Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the characters. I am taking liberties with them.
Rating: PG-13.
Author's Note: I am determined to finish this story before taking off to Korea, since I will be gone for two weeks. I thank all of you who reviewed for the previous chapter, and though I hate to skip the personal responses, I will add them onto my next story after I get back, seeing that I am only three hours away from flying and don't have the time. I hope you enjoyed this tale!
I thank those of you who encouraged and supported me through my little period of doubt, and also give my sincere thanks to those who accompanied me on this little adventure of mine.
By Kasmi Kassim
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Tears of Yesterday
Chapter 12: Beloved
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Unlike earlier that day, Erestor slumped heavily in the balrog slayer's arms as the two entered his room. His slick hair was damp, clinging to his now-immaculate robes, and his body was clean, bathed fresh of the foul stench of blood. And twice as weary.
He leaned back against the door, and the gentle sway of the black crystal around his neck stilled.
A lone candle threw a long shadow across the wall.
Without a word, Glorfindel approached the candle, and lifted it to transfer the flame onto another candle. The speck of light burned into the filament with a spark, and each candle in the room came to life, joining in the glimmering dance. And Glorfindel moved onto the next candle, and the next, a golden shadow gliding around the darkened hush of the room, lighting soft breaths of gold one by one.
Erestor's dulled eyes narrowed, watching the silent chamber fill with glowing warmth.
After lighting the last candle, Glorfindel put down the bronze holder and approached the bed. Damp blonde hair clung to the cloth of clean blue robes, outlining the frame of the tall elf in a gentle touch of light.
Seating himself comfortably on Erestor's bed, the blonde elf turned his head toward the elf by the door. Erestor stared back expressionlessly.
Glorfindel held out his arms.
Wading through the golden warmth of the room, a swirl of black glided slowly toward the bright-haired elf. Erestor stood before the bed, watching mutely as Glorfindel took his hands into his own and peered down.
In the tranquil silence, Glorfindel's fingers slowly explored the contours of the thinned hand, the bones that stood strong and prominent among dry flesh. Stroking the pale hands with his own, Glorfindel watched the dry surface crinkle under his touch. His eyes swirled a dark blue, a tumbling sea of sorrow.
The night was deepening.
Erestor watched dully as golden hair spilled around his hands, the warrior's face descending toward them. Warm lips pressed against cold skin. He swallowed, averting his gaze. A hushed whisper breathed softly against the tired bones.
"Aiya, Erestor...when have you become so thin?"
A violent tremor suddenly rose from his throat. Erestor pulled away, black hair rippling with ember sheen in the fire. The black robes swayed gently in the candlelight, devouring the pale form underneath in their cavernous mouth.
Glorfindel watched the retreating elf, the haunted gleam in the bottomless black eyes. His hand reached out and gingerly touched the black crystal that trembled against the elf's heart. Its edges burned with the gold of the fire.
"Can you now, dear Erestor?" murmured Glorfindel, eyes lowered, hand traveling up to a pale cheek. And the quiet voice dissolved harmoniously into the gentle dance of the flames.
Erestor inhaled deeply. The black pendant shifted, the blaze of the fire burning from the edges to the heart of the crystal. The black depths were penetrated, dancing in a dark shade of ruby onto the elf's heart, a blood red glimmer.
Glorfindel looked up at Erestor's face. A silver sheen thickened before the elf's black orbs, and a shimmering smile lit across his face. Glorfindel bit his lip. The black seas of his eyes were shining, a rich sparkle of fathomless depths.
Erestor laid a weary hand over the larger one, and, leaning his forehead against that of his friend, closed his eyes. A silent tear slid down his cheek, and then another, landing heavily upon the upturned palm of the golden elf. And breathing deeply, shakily, Erestor's smile shone a pale silver light.
"Aye, my friend," he said quietly, a hush of a whispering breath- "but I would rather smile."
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Everything was so dizzy. Hazy. Unstable. Hot.
No matter how deeply he breathed, how much he willed his head to clear, the world did not stop spinning. Sighing, Elladan shook his head and dipped it underneath the warm water.
But nothing changed. Everything was still hot, hazy. Suffocating.
He emerged from the water, and leaned back against the wall of the tub. The golden chandelier pained his eyes, threatening to haze his vision further.
Too bright.
He closed his eyes wearily.
He had lost control. He had to be strong for him, and yet he had lost control. And he had hurt him. He had vowed to protect him, and Arwen, and he had hurt him. How could he face him again? Answer those trusting eyes, the reassuring smile?
What would Ada say?
His heart felt as if it would burn, smolder into simmering ashes inside his ribcage. Breathing deeply, he shut his eyes and submerged under water again. But he soon reemerged. He was too tired to escape. He had to stay, and face the consequences.
The consequences...
Watching the water ripple around his raised knees, he blinked, willing the bloody images to go away. Willing the roar of the rain to leave his memory, willing the cry of his brother to fade.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
He took another deep, albeit a bit tremulous, breath. Erestor and Glorfindel would make it all right. Elrohir would heal, and all would be well again. Ada was recovering, and would return to his daily activities soon. Everything would return to normal...wouldn't it?
He shut his eyes.
Everything would not return to normal. Nothing would ever return to normal again. Nana was gone. And she was not coming back.
Viciously biting down the tightness in his throat, he brought wet hands up to his face, letting out a shaky sigh. He pressed tenaciously against his eyes, silently willing the tears to stop flowing. The warm water mingled with salty tears as the gentle droplets slid from his hands, slid down his face. Sniffling, he quickly dipped his hands in water again, and brought up a handful of warmth up to bathe his face once more. He pressed the wet hands against his eyes, and rubbed in frustration. So many tears. They didn't stop. Why didn't they stop flowing?
Gritting his teeth, he rubbed and pressed fiercely, splashing more water onto his face. He couldn't cry. He couldn't cry. He wouldn't cry.
He gasped, shoulders suddenly encircled by strong arms. And he was enveloped in a nest of warm fabric, a soft beating heart. Long dark hair spilled into the bathwater. Elladan's eyes flew open, his body pulled into a tight embrace.
"Ada."
Gentle gray eyes smiled into his. His father kneeled by the tub, long sleeves rolled up, a wet cloth in his hand. His skin was radiating with lingering fever.
Disregarding Elladan's startled stare, he lowered his eyes and dipped the cloth into the warm water. Elladan's pupils dilated frantically at the memory of what had transpired while his father was ill.
"Elrohir-"
"I have been to him." His father wringed the cloth and gently began to run it down the skin of Elladan's raised knee. His eyes were focused on the marred skin as he tenderly washed away the rough coating of stiffened grime and blood. Water droplets cleansed and slid over the aching wounds, the bleeding gashes, and trickled gently into the warm pool of water.
And swallowing hard, Elladan bowed his head. His eyes remained frozen on the slow and diligent hands on his wounds.
"You need to bathe more often, Elladan."
The soft voice broke forth a fresh wave of sobs from the young boy's lungs. Elladan bit into his slick hand, muffling the ragged breath that caught in his throat. And new tears slid down his face, mingled with warm water. And the father continued to bathe him, rubbing and washing gently, as his wearied child remained still, raining tears into the womb of warmth that embraced his broken body.
And under the golden light of the night, the warm waters embraced them both, dancing, lapping, kissing the tears away.
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The End
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