I know I am switching between characters quite frequently but I want to build suspense and it's hard to leave any of the Rivendell elves out I love them all. If it's confusing let me know I will make sure to go back and do any editing to make this story an easier read (but if you have read Tolkien ((especially the Silmarillion)) I pray to the Valar my writing isn't so horrible that you cannot understand it) I hope you are enjoying this so far and now here we have the loveable yet cold Erestor. Enjoy:)
Erestor has not been outside of Imladris for some time. Sure he's strolled the paths with Lord Elrond and gone on a few rides with Glorfindel but he has not traveled as far as they intend to now in nearly three years. It is not that he does not like venturing outside the Last Homely House, it is more he sees no reason to. He is perfectly happy walking the paths he knows and always being near his desk should new paperwork need looked over. That does not mean he is foreign to the skill of a sword and the perils of traveling in the wilderness. He would gladly give up his pen and favorite garden bench for blade and horse if it means he can help save those he cares about.
He's always been fond of the twins, despite the various pranks they always seemed determined pulling on him. They are also serious when need be, even now the young Pederhel rides his brother's horse quietly beside his father too somber with the pressing darkness of night surrounding them to talk. In fact, there truly isn't a sound to be heard aside from the clinking of armor and soft footfalls of near seventy horses. Once news spread that Elladan returned wounded with Elrohir and Glorfindel missing the near entirety of the guard and scouts had offered their assistance. Although some had to stay behind to ensure Imladris remains safe. Lindir had been left in charge who, while is still quite young, is a fully capable ellon who will surely handle the position with ease.
Erestor has no worries about his home behind him or even his own safety as again he listens to the sheer amount of warriors surrounding him. Elrond had requested sixty and that is what he got, and while it may end up being more of a number than they need he's relieved to know they'll easily stand against any orcs they come across. He truly hopes it doesn't come to that and they wind up stumbling across Glorfindel and Elrohir first, riding with smiles on their faces laughing when they see the extent the Lord of Rivendell went to when he heard of their disappearance. Although the advisor knows that will not be the case and will not fool himself to believe so.
He hopes they are simply injured somewhere waiting for them to come find them in some comfortable grass bed that they always have the keen eye of spotting and not dead or in the hands of the filthy orcs. His thoughts stray towards Lady Celebrian when she was taken by orcs so many years ago. She had been gone for weeks and when the twins finally found her it was much too late to mend not just her physical wounds but the ones of her soul as well. The family was only able to spend one day with her before she made the trip to the gray havens and sailed to Aman. Rivendell had been quiet and grieved the loss of their beloved lady for years that followed, even the ever-brilliant Glorfindel did not smile for some time. Of course, it affected Elrond the most who had lost his other half far before he was ready. He was left behind with a kingdom to run and three children to raise, without the help of his friends it surely would have been a much darker time. He, Glorfindel, and Lindir had teamed up to make sure everything ran smoothly while the elven lord grieved giving him time to mend his spirit until he had finally been ready to step up into his position once more.
Erestor can't imagine what would happen if Elrond lost his son as well. It would surely break him and everyone else in Imladris would feel the loss keenly. Elrohir for all his quirks is a kind soul who has spent many hours in the healing halls learning from his father and helps any he sees in need. He holds onto the hope that his lord would truly be able to know if his son were no longer among them on Middle-Earth but wandering Mandos Halls. Although this simply turns his thoughts to his close friend who had once walked those very Halls and been given the chance to live once more.
They do not know anything and it bugs the advisor more than he'd like to admit. All they truly know is Glorfindel had stood up like the mighty warrior he is to defend the injured young elf. Eretor knows the golden-haired elf is equally stubborn as he is himself and would not allow anything to happen to Elrond's son if he could allow it. As young as he may look, the ex Lord of Gondolin is much wiser than he seems and likely just as aware as the advisor what the death of his son would cause. Erestor just hopes he has not done anything reckless. He would never say it aloud in fear of breaking etiquette or causing offense, but his heart thumps hard with fear for his golden-haired friend alone. A part of him knows it's because Glorfindel would fight until his dying breath to keep Elorhir alive, it's been proven once before. He doesn't want to see that happen. Not when he's found someone he finally trusts with his deepest secrets aside from his own lord. Not when he's found a brother.
As his horse shifts beneath him, he finds himself adjusting in the saddle as well when the hilt of his sword sticks uncomfortably into his side. The heavyweight of the blade reminds him of the reason he and Glorfindel even became friends in the first place, the last time he actually used a sword. They had in fact been adamantly ignoring each other for quite a long time when the Vanya first arrived until Elrond's meddling nearly got them killed. He sent them out together along with some other elves to deliver a wagon of rations to a nearby village struggling in the middle of winter. They hadn't talked the entire time until halfway through the week-long journey when they found a group of men following them from afar. Glorfindel had declared they split up and he would stay behind to defend the wagon while they hurry to the village. Erestor annoyed with the plan argued the golden-haired elf could not always stand-alone and ended up staying behind as well while the others made haste ahead. He had been a little more familiar with his blade at the time, but even then he did not wield the skill he once had that now feels like ages ago.
Nonetheless, he and the returned warrior had fought furiously when the bandits had finally attacked. Glorfindel had obtained a nasty leg wound and the advisor can still feel the ache of the broken arm long since healed he received during the battle. They were quite the pair when they returned to Imladris, Erestor's smaller form riding behind the golden-haired elf on his large white stallion as he had long since passed out from blood loss. The days he had spent in the chilling cold of the wilderness with Glorfindel slowly bleeding out beside him will forever be ingrained in his memory. Though now he is glad it happened because it is what broke the tension hanging between the two and allowed the strong friendship they now hold to blossom. He does not want to see his friend like that ever again. A shiver runs down his spine as he remembers the mumbled words of a lost past blurring with the present passing shaking, blue lips.
He shakes the thought away trying to bring forth happy memories to push away the stifling darkness that is gripping his thoughts just as it grips the forest around him. Another memory, more recent and not nearly as depressing comes to his mind. He had woken up late after a nightmare, stumbling out to the garden to get a breath of fresh air when he found Glorfindel already sitting upon his favorite bench. It sits beside a deep pond that reflects the stars and moon above with a peaceful stillness that has always helped calm his racing heart after a nightmare.
He had approached slowly and been shocked to find tears rolling down the fair Vanya's face. A smile that betrayed the sadness in his eyes had drifted across his features as he looked up into the tired dark ones that had looked down at him. "I dreamed of Gondolin again," he had said quietly at first, looking away as he released a deep breath. "This pond, I can not decide if it is a beautiful or painful reminder of the past."
Erestor had sat beside him contemplating on what to say for some time before finally speaking quietly, "I find we run into those things more often than we'd like." Glorfindel had chuckled beside him a more genuine smile crossing his face that made his eyes glow before it faded away once more as he gazed at the still water.
"Have I ever told you of Ecthelion of the Fountain?" the warrior had asked; almost a whisper, startling, it had been so unlike his usual loud exuberant self.
"You have not no, but I have heard the tales and songs nearly as often as the ones written about you."
That had caused the older elf to laugh his wavy locks bouncing freely as he shook his head while fiend disgust had flittered across his face. "Oh, you know how I truly hate those overdone stories, they can never know the truth of the words they say," he had exclaimed repeating words he's said nearly a hundred times since returning from Mandos, "They try so hard to impress any willing to listen that their words always end up ridiculously overexaggerated."
"Well then tell me of Ecthelion of the Fountain, as you truly knew him," he had returned seriously with a comforting smile when a fond but griefed look had passed over his friend.
Those deep blue eyes had gazed at the pond for such a long time Erestor had thought the warrior was not going to speak when his smooth voice had suddenly risen through the air, soft and gentle like a warm breeze. There was sadness but also deep love and joy as he spoke, "This pond reflects the stars just the same as Echetlion's marvelous fountain but it will never hold the same splendor nor memory. I like to gaze upon it and pretend I am sitting beside him once more in the center of Gondolin. If I close my eyes I can at times still hear his gentle harp and exquisite voice singing a song of old while we sat under the stars." The golden-haired elf's words had broken off as he sang the same tune quietly. The melody was not fast nor slow and was fabricated around the strength, deadliness, yet beauty of water. When Glorfindel had finished he laughed shaking his head with a large smirk. "I do not nearly do the song justice. I have not heard another voice as fair as Echetlion sing it as he was the one who wrote it and it was one of his favorites. I find it is the one reminder that truly brings me joy as the melody and words have always been meant to lift one's spirits."
Glorfindel has only spoken of his long passed friend a few times since and never again has he sang another one of the long-forgotten songs written by the lost elf. Erestor has always wished he would because just as Glorfindel had said those many years ago, the tune truly can brighten one's mood in the worst of situations.
Straightening in his saddle Erestor forces himself to focus on the present, he can not let himself be lost in thought if he wants to be of any help to his friend. But as he continues riding through the near pitch-black night, he finds the darkness much more tolerable if he quietly hums the soothing river song.