Glorfindel pulled Asfaloth to a stop half a mile away from his destination. Asfaloth would remain here, and wait patiently for him to return. His return was certain, and yet the battle ahead of him was unknown and beyond his experience, and he had no concept of how long it would take.
Meneldir, the captain of the border patrol which had temporarily expanded their radius, dropped soundlessly from the tree in front of him.
"My Lord" he said with a small bow.
"Meneldir, is he still there?" Glorfindel responded, in the same soft tones but getting straight to the point.
"He is, my Lord. He set up camp a week ago as best we can tell, and as you know, he is a mile outside the usual outer patrol radius. He seemed… lost in some way. I did not think our approach would be welcome, as had he desired company he would have proceeded into the Valley as usual. So I sent a message to Lord Elrond, and we expanded our patrol to keep a loose perimeter. I would not want to leave him vulnerable to attack in such a state."
"You did the right thing, Captain." Glorfindel reassured the elf. "Although I think your message was not needed, Lord Elrond was already aware of his presence."
Glorfindel found his thoughts returning to the previous evening, when he had come across Elrond on the balcony, the sky dark and stars obscured by clouds, and his heavy velvet robes almost soaked through by the light misty rain which had been falling steadily for hours. Elrond was very, very worried.
In truth, so was Glorfindel, though he had less insight into the situation. Estel was dearer to him than any of his house to come before, and how could he not be? Glorfindel had been a teacher to all the Dunadan Chieftain's who had been fostered at Imladris, along with Elrond, Erestor and the twins. But Estel was the very first Elrond had loved as his own son, the first the twin's had called their brother.
It had been a decade since the last time he had seen Estel, who had taken the name of Thorongil and ridden off to lend his sword to Rohan's army at the suggestion of Mithrandir, leading the Dunedain by appointing a steward, and a scarce exchange of letters. A decade was nothing to an elf, but he did not know how much Estel would have changed. How much would be left of Estel, how much would be Aragorn, or Strider, or even Thorongil, each name clinging to the man like a title and carrying their own set of responsibilities and attitudes.
And now Estel had returned, almost but not quite. Returning to the north almost a decade earlier than planned before returning to the southern kingdoms of men and entering into the service of the current steward of Gondor, Ecthelion. Word had reached them from the Dunedain weeks ago, that he was flitting through the settlements, checking in with his people, rarely staying more than a night anywhere, his speech clipped and even amongst his closest friends and companions he kept his words solely to the business of the Rangers.
Then he had come to Rivendell, a matter of a few short days ride on a horse, but though he had a very fine, Rohirric steed with him, he seemed to have walked the whole way, travelling swiftly on foot as was his custom, but stopping, inexplicably, just beyond the borders of Imladris.
Elrond had known of his arrival in this small clearing from the moment it happened, but he had hesitated, the wise and ancient Elrond Peredhel brought low by indecision. He could sense there was something deeply amiss with his human son, but he did not think he would be welcome. So he stayed. He meditated, and he eventually sent his twin son's on an errand to the south that would occupy them for a few weeks, so as not to overcrowd Estel when he did arrive, and still Estel did not come.
Glorfindel had long been his Lord's confidant, and offered, the previous evening, to seek out Estel, sit with him, speak with him, and attempt to draw him back to the comfort of Imladris, of his family. To Glorfindel's immense relief, Elrond had allowed it, but not without heavy words of warning.
"I sense that my son is changed, and his fea badly wounded, although how this occurred I do not know. He can heal, but I think a gentle touch is needed, and yet I fear that he would push me away in shame."
Glorfindel had pressed his Lord for more details, but none were forthcoming, and so he had packed his Saddlebags, and set off with Asfaloth at first light. It was now early evening, with two or three more hours of warm summer sunshine ahead of him. Glorfindel returned his attention to the warrior before him.
"Is there anything else you would like to tell me of his condition?" Glorfindel asked.
"We have not been observing him closely, Lord Aragorn" for the elves of Imladris outside Elrond's inner circle had taken to using this name for the human, or simply calling him Dunadan, "seemed to choose where he did out of a desire not to be observed, so we have secured the perimeter and kept our distance, but he has not wandered far, and as far as we can tell, he has not hunted or replenished his provisions so may well be running low." Meneldir added, worry for the young man colouring his tone.
"Thank you, Meneldir, you may return to your post." Glorfindel stated simply. He turned to Asfaloth, and gently caressed his horse's nose, before turning to the saddlebags. He had not been entirely sure what to bring but he was aware that Estel was as stubborn as his forefathers and could easily be as stubborn as Elrond if the mood took him, and Glorfindel was well aware that he may not be returning for some days. With that in mind, he assembled his saddlebags into a light pack, including a bed roll, trail rations, and no small amount of fresh food from the kitchens, including several favourite cakes, pies and pastries from Estel's childhood, and as a last minute addition, a flask of soup.
The soup was certainly an unusual choice to take into the wild, but he had brought some bowls and a pot to heat it up in, and whenever the young Estel had been fighting off a cough or a cold or some other minor human ailment, this had been the food of choice that Elrond had had served. Unfortunately Glorfindel knew well that whatever was amiss with the man would not be solved as easily as a cough or a cold where you had a few days in bed, plenty of fluids and then he was well again. But he hoped the soup would help a little.
Pack sorted, he set off on the short ten minute walk to Estel's campsite. He wished he had a clearer idea of what to expect, or even what Estel knew about his current situation. The Estel who had left ten years ago would be fully aware of the patrol who had rearranged themselves to protect him, but the Estel who left ten years ago would have greeted them and would not have lingered for a week just outside Imladris. This Estel, this wounded human soldier, Glorfindel could not say for sure what he would or would not know.
Glorfindel arrived at the campsite both too quickly and not nearly fast enough for his liking. He lingered at the edge of the clearing, some twenty paces away from the man. The years that had passed showed on Estel's figure more than his face. When he had left in his mid twenties, the coltish slenderness of youth still clung to his limbs, and while as a Numenorean he would never fill out to the extent of other men, the man before him, sat cross legged and hunched over, would never now be mistaken for a boy. Glorfindel waited a moment longer to see whether or not he would be spotted, and when it became apparent that Estel was dangerously lost in reverie for one in the wild, he called out a greeting.
"Well met, Estel."
Estel was startled, although only those who knew him, as Glorfindel did, would have seen the split second of fear and surprise for what it was. Then Estel's eyes found him and the tension in the man's body shifted. There was relief that it was Glorfindel and not a stranger that came upon him, but there was also the unease of being seen by someone who knew him and might ask him to confide in them.
"Glorfindel, it is good to see you my friend." The words were fair, and the warmth behind them didn't seem feigned, a good start.
Glorfindel crossed the clearing and Estel untangled his limbs and stood up, a touch unsteady as though he had pins and needles, and met him halfway. Glorfindel drew him into a firm embrace, taking in how the young man momentarily froze before allowing himself to relax into the embrace, and then guiding him back to his small campsite.
"How did you know I was here?" Estel asked, floundering for a second for the words as though in his long journey home he had forgotten how to make conversation.
"Though your education is long past, you are still my pupil and I know you well enough that you can work out the answer to that yourself." Glorfindel prompted, gently as he divested himself of his pack, and urged Estel to sit back down next to the cold fire pit.
"Ada." Estel replied, emotion flitting across his face too quickly to be read reliably, but with the love there was fear perhaps, perhaps shame.
"Your father's far sight let him know you had arrived here, but that was not my only source of information." Glorfindel responded, and then saw Estel's face pale, then redden in quick succession.
"A patrol. They spotted me and sent a report back." Estel replied. "They set a perimeter too, didn't they? It's why I have been so untroubled since I have been here. I should have realised earlier, clearly I am not a very able pupil anymore." The self recrimination in Estel's voice was impossible to mistake.
"Estel, the patrol kept their distance because they thought you wanted privacy, they protected you because of their love for you and for Lord Elrond. He does not know what has happened to you, neither do I, but he sensed your spirit had taken a grievous hurt, and we would help you heal, if we can." Glorfindel kept his words gentle, he had not intended to come to the point quite so quickly or so bluntly.
The gentle tone did not work, a flash of angry indignation worked across Estel's face before it gave way to resigned sullenness and Glorfindel found himself transported back twenty years, to the many times he would approach the sullen teenager, cross that his brother's were able to ride out and he was still deemed to young, where that exact sequence of expressions often gave way to the words "I suppose you're going to make me talk about it now."
Those words were not forthcoming today, to Glorfindel's relief, making Estel talk about whatever had hurt him so would do nothing here, not when the wound was so fresh and so grievous, Estel would confide when he was ready and not before.
Silence fell across the clearing but for the ambient sounds of the wood, it was not awkward, but it was not entirely comfortable either. Glorfindel reached for his pack.
"Right, young one, you're going to light a fire, and then I am going to heat up some of this soup I brought with me. I'm sure it must be days if not weeks since you've had anything more than trail rations and proper food seemed to be called for."
Estel quirked a curious eyebrow at Glorfindel before starting the fire again, perplexed. Glorfindel was not usually one for fires, or for a food as impractical as soup when sleeping beneath the stars.
The fire was made, the soup was heated, and before long Estel felt like he was ten years old again 'camping out' in the woodland next to the gardens with his brother's and Ada and Glorfindel, as he sat cradling a warm bowl of thick, aromatic soup, and held in his hand a large, soft, fresh, brown bread roll with herbs and seeds bedded in.
Estel asked about Imladris, and Glorfindel was happy to oblige, telling playful tales about some of the elves who lived there, and more heartfelt updates about his father, brothers, Erestor, Lindor and others. The meal ended gradually, and as the sunset Glorfindel sang a sweet melody. Darkness began to fall and the low flames of the fire took on a magical glow. Estel was leaning against the trunk of an ancient tree, looking drowsy and lost in reverie. There was still the sadness he had seen when he had first glimpsed the young man earlier that evening, but some of the tension and fear had drifted away. The final notes of Glorfindel's song drifted away into the twilight. Yesterday's rain had cleared the clouds from the sky and the stars were clearly visible. It was peaceful.
Estel broke the silence.
"I know you must have questions my friend, that you did not come up here just to share a meal and keep me company for a few hours."
"I did not, yet if I have eased your heart even a little by doing so, I will count the day a success whether or not my questions get answered." Glorfindel replied, lightly, careful not to push too hard.
When Estel next spoke his voice sounded as though he was holding back tears.
"I do not know how in the world I became so blessed as to count you as a friend, Glorfindel. Ask your questions, but I cannot promise to answer all, and what answers I have may be little to your liking."
The hour was late, and the human seemed exhausted, but this exhaustion could be productive, as human's tended to be less guarded when they were tired, if it was paid for by being more easily confused and quicker to anger.
"You seemed to be coming home, then you stopped here for nearly a week and made no attempt to either continue on, or return to the world of men. What held you here?" Glorfindel asked.
"I do not truly understand myself, but I will answer you as best I may. Near the end of my service to Rohan and Thengal King, I was briefly captured, along with a soldier under my command by a Dunlending tribe. The hurts I took there haunt me. I thought to find healing at home, before returning to the south and fighting for Gondor, but as I drew closer I found myself dragging my feet, eventually I made camp, and just never got going again the next day. How could Ada, or you, or my brothers, comprehend an experience so uniquely human enough to help me heal, I thought, and a strange kind of inertia kept me here. I found no motivation to continue on, or return to the Dunedain, or Gondor, or even to hunt or forage and restock my dwindling provisions. It is as though much of my surety in myself has been drained. When I returned to the Dunedain I found myself questioning everything, second guessing every decision I made and yet I was afraid to show weakness."
Glorfindel's heart ached for the young human. Prisoners of war were rarely treated well, even if held only for a short time, and by the sounds of it, Estel had been treated very badly indeed if he had left the service of Rohan and fled home shortly after.
"I am sorry to hear of your troubles, and hope only that I can be of some company and guidance, perhaps even a protector, as you work out where you want to go." Glorfindel responded.
"I thought you would insist on bringing me back to Imladris?" Estel murmured, softly. A warm laugh spilled from Glorfindel.
"You are not a child anymore, Aragorn, even though to me you will always be Estel. You are a man grown, and a leader of your own people. I can offer you counsel, and what wisdom I may, and yes, my heart aches for your suffering and I would like you to return to Imladris so that you can return to the world fully healed, but the choice must be yours. If you choose differently, I would ride with you and be your protector for as long as you allow it, after all, it is plain you are not fully well, and certainly not fully aware of your surroundings, and I would keep you safe until such time as you are able to do so for yourself. But I will not choose for you, nor will I force my company upon you when it is not desired."
The speech which had started in a teasing, reassuring tone, ended with heartfelt earnestness.
"Thank you, Glorfindel." Estel replied, the rough edge coating his voice as though he was holding back tears once again.
"I have been around for millenia, Estel, and spent more than the lifetime of a man around the wars and battlefields of humans. There is not much they do to each other that would come as a surprise, although it would grieve me to learn that any of these torments had been enacted upon you, I ask you, what happened in Rohan?"
"I lost my honor." Estel said simply. "I do not know who I am anymore, or how I can return to my father's house having done what I have done."
Glorfindel's eyebrows shot up.
"That is a very grandiose statement, young one, that offers little to no clarity on the situation. The man sitting before me has honor, so help me understand what has occurred, and in return, perhaps I can help you find a path forward."
"Young one? Not two minutes ago you were telling me how I am a grown man who makes my own choices." Estel evaded Glorfindel's question just a little.
"And so you are, however I helped raise you since you were a young child and no matter how dignified, or wise you become, you will always be little one to me." Glorfindel shot back, before softening his tone again. "Estel, you said you were captured by Dunlendings with a young soldier under your command. What happened?"
Several seconds passed and Glorfindel wondered if he had again been too clumsy and whether Estel would answer at all, and then Estel spoke.
"It was towards the end of the campaign, much, but not all, the danger had passed. There was a very young boy among my men, he was only fifteen, far too young in my mind to be at war but not too young to train and join the Rohirrim. I was scouting the perimeter and took him with me. He had sharp ears and a good mind but I had underestimated the danger and overestimated his abilities. When we came across a party of easterlings, I pulled him away to hide, but he made noise and gave us away. There were too many of them, and I could not fight them off without the certainty they would cut Edric's throat, so they captured us."
Estel seemed lost in the realm of memory and Glorfindel was unwilling to breathe a word lest he interrupt the retelling irreparably.
"We were disarmed, bound, and taken to their camp. They questioned us about the movements of the Eored, we did not answer, although Edric was scared, he stayed firm in this. He had heard the monstrous tales all armies like to tell about enemy armies, and knew, I think, that he would be killed if he gave them the information they sought. So he kept quiet, despite his fear. I was very proud of him at that moment."
"He was so young, Glorfindel. Fifteen might legally be an adult according to the Rohirrim, but no fifteen year old human is fully grown or mature enough to be considered one. I wanted to protect him as much as I was able. When the commander finished asking questions we were taken away to another part of the camp…"
Estel's voice trailed off, and he took a swig of water, as if steeling himself for the next part of his tale.
"There is a… technique, an act of brutality used often by human soldiers upon their prisoners to quickly break an enemy soldier physically and mentally, although the physical wounds are usually minor compared to the mental ones. Do you know of that which I speak?"
Estel's tone was suddenly cagey, cautious, as if he would protect Glorfindel from the reality of what he spoke of should Glorfindel not know of it. Glorfindel studied Estel's face which had gone carefully and deliberately blank.
"You speak of rape." Glorfindel replied, watching the minute flinch flicker across Estel's face, but unwilling to let metaphor and ambiguity get in the way of understanding. Estel's muscles were completely tense, almost painfully so.
"I do, and also I do not. Edric, for his youth, had been singled out as the one likely to break first. There were ten of them, making lewd comments and he was terrified. I did what I could to persuade them to spare him, I think they enjoyed my desperation. Eventually a leader stood forward and promised they would spare Edric that fate if I would take his place without fighting or resistance. I agreed. There were ten of them. They took turns. And when it was over and I was in too much pain to move, they slit Edric's throat anyway. It was all for nothing."
Tears were sliding down Estel's face now.
"I was able to reassemble what clothes I had after I left, and a few hours later, some of my men came and raided the camp, they left none alive. When the campaign ended, I requested a recommendation from Thengel King to the steward of Gondor so that I could serve there, and then I fled to the north like a coward."
Estel took in a shaky breath.
"So you see Glorfindel, it was and it wasn't. I never wanted it, and yet I agreed to it to try and save the life of a boy they killed anyway. I sold myself like a whore only for the promised payment never to come, so you see why I tell you that I have lost my honor."
Estel was sobbing truly now; loud, ugly sobs of unbridled emotion, shame and anger and regret. Such extreme displays were wholly out of character.
"Don't tell Ada. Please. I could not bear it if he knew what I had become." The plea fell from Estel's lips and Glorfindel could restrain himself no longer. He crossed to Estel's side of the fire and took the young man into his arms, cradling him against his chest and dropping a tender kiss to his unwashed hair.
They remained there for a long time until Estel's sobs had died out and he had no more tears left inside. Eventually Estel was lying on the ground, his head in Glorfindel's lap as he gazed into the dying embers of the fire. Now, in this moment of stillness, Glorfindel chose his moment to speak.
"I will not tell your father what you have revealed to me in confidence Estel, not now, and nevermore unless you decide you wish for him to know and could not bear to tell the story again. But in your grief and anguish you have allowed your emotion to twist some of the facts. What happened to you was rape, it was against your consent, no matter that you chose to hold still in the attempt to save a child's life. There is no ambiguity there Estel, and none, I would venture to guess, in the minds of your captors either given that they went to such extreme lengths to keep you compliant. You are a man, and I honor you for that, but rarely until now have I had the opportunity to be grateful for it, as being a man you will someday pass beyond the circles of this world and that parting is a bitter one. But today I am grateful as you know as well as I do that what you suffered would have killed an elf, and the parting would have been so much sooner. I thank the Valar that you have returned, and I promise you that you are capable of healing."
Hot tears slipped anew from Estel's eyes.
"It was not your fault Estel, nor was it the fault of Aragorn, Thorongil, Strider or any other name you choose to go by, and none would blame you for it. The shame you feel is misplaced."
Glorfindel could hear Estel's ragged breathing as he attempted to calm himself enough to speak again.
"It happened two months ago, and yet everytime I close my eyes I am back there. Everyone who was there aside from me is dead, and you are the only other person in the world who knows what happened. How can I return home a shadow of what I was, flinching at shadows, plagued by nightmares and unable to bear the thought of Ada, or Elladan and Elrohir knowing why. It would give them so much anguish that I could not ease."
"You honor me with your trust Estel." Glorfindel murmured. "But you underestimate your father, he is not counted among the wise without cause. He knows that your soul has suffered grievous hurt, although he does not know how. He would rather have you home and healing, so that when you return to the world of men you are at the height of your strength, even if the cause of your wounds is never revealed to him. The anguish of your suffering would affect him wherever you are in the world, and he would desire to be near you, so that he could offer what comfort he could"
Estel's breathing had calmed again, but Glorfindel knew the young man was wide awake and thinking.
"We will remain here tonight, you will sleep, and I shall watch over you to chase away nightmares, and then, I hope, you will return to Imladris with me in the morning, to remain as long as you wish to."
Estel was quiet for a long time after his words, and for what felt like the tenth time that evening Glorfindel worried that he had pushed the young man too far and that he would run. But then, eventually, he murmured his agreement.
Glorfindel leaned back against the tree behind him, and let his body relax into a watchful sleep, after all, with a patrol keeping a broad perimeter they were in no real danger, and listened carefully to the soft, even sound of Estel's breathing. Twice in the night he was able to gently pull Estel from nightmares with comforting words murmured in Quenya, but when the morning came Estel looked somewhat better rested, and less haunted than he had the previous evening. They packed up the campsite together, Glorfindel summoned Asfaloth with a whistle, and then he took Estel home.