The King stared at the sight before him as Glorfindel began to disengage slowly. Erestor turned slightly ashen when he realized that Estel was looking at him as though he was no longer the same efficient, organized, competent Elf he once was. Suddenly, a thought flashed across Erestor's mind... he was behaving like Glorfindel. At that he dropped the sword from his hand as if it burnt him.
Aragorn had grown up watching Glorfindel go blade to blade with many other Elves, mostly as exercise or friendly competition. A few times he and Elrond had even contested each other. It was Aragorn's personal opinion that Glor' had the best sword handling abilities in all Imladris, if not in the entire north kingdom. The Man had learned everything he knew about swords from this Elf.
Yet, here it was before his own eyes, Glorfindel in imminent danger of being beaten by, all of people, Erestor. Though Aragorn had learned much from Erestor and had almost as much respect for him as he had for his foster-father, never did he think that this Elf had any real weapons ability to speak of. In his mind, Erestor was simply not a warrior by any measure, though he was probably the best associate to be found in the Elven realms.
Aragorn, for once in his life, was rendered utterly speechless. He wanted to say something about not wishing to have another kinslaying on his hands, but he figured that wouldn't go over too well at the moment. Erestor was the first to regain composure, nodding to the Man and saying simply, "Welcome home, Estel," as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
Aragorn arched a brow, nodded in return, and began to look around at the astonishing mess the Steward's study was in. He cringed when he thought of what his own would look like.
"You look road-weary, mellon," Glorfindel said, attempting his own recovery. "If you had but sent word, i would have gladly ridden out to meet you."
Aragorn looked a little confused. "Maybe i am weary.... I did send word, though, Glor'. A week before i left, in fact." His eyes widened in fear. "Don't tell me the lad never made it this far!"
"He made it, Estel," Erestor said, sounding very tired. "The last week i have been trying," said with a strong look Glorfindel's direction, "to get this place in order for you."
Glorfindel returned Erestor's stare in full and then some, his fingers growing a little tighter around the hilt again. "Why, then, mellon," he said, voice laden with sarcasm, "did you not tell me of Estel's impending return?" The Balrog-slayer spoke through clenched teeth as through fitting a losing battle with his temper.
Erestor laughed sardonically, his voice raising a pitch or two. "Right, so you could ride off to meet him and leave me stuck with those Naugrim? Not in ten thousand years!"
Glorfindel swiftly made a move toward Erestor but Aragorn judiciously blocked him. "I really had thought that at some time in the last several thousand years the two of you might have worked through your differences."
"I have tried!" Glorfindel all but shouted.
"You have tried?" Erestor countered.
For a few moments they simply glared at each other before pointing accusing fingers. "That Elf is the most intolerable being i have ever encountered!" they said in perfect synchrony, momentarily stunning each other. The effect didn't last long and even Aragorn couldn't keep them separated. They were mere inches apart, shouting things at each other that even the King of Gondor did not understand.
Aragorn quietly picked up the two swords, Glorfindel having dropped his in shock that Erestor would dare use the same words he had, at the same time, no less. He left the study entirely unnoticed, handing the weapons to the nearest guard and instructing him to not let any Elf touch them unless they were leaving the city. He, himself, decided to head to the kitchen. A nice meal and a tall glass of wine would suit him very well.
ooo
The day Aragorn departed from Edoras was not a happy one on several different fronts. Éomer had reopened his wound trying to calm one of the horses who apparently had not gotten work that he was King now. Éowyn was feeling particularly unwell with morning sickness, and when Faramir had gone to offer her athelas she refused it and they ended up in a terrible argument over where he had been all night. When Faramir explained that he had only gone outdoors toward the end of the party for some fresh air and had begun to think about his brother, Éowyn accused him of living in the past.
That struck a serious nerve with him that no one had ever provoked before, not even Denethor. Drawing himself up and away from Éowyn his gaze hardened. "Do not dare to blame me of that," he said in a low tone.
Éowyn became indignant that he should even begin to tell her what to do. "Do not dare to speak to me that way!" she shouted back at him.
Faramir was severely tempted to tell her something along the line of 'if you would keep your insensitive comments to yourself...,' but he thought rather better of it and said nothing. Suddenly he hated himself for not speaking his mind. He knew it would actually be healthier for them to argue it out, but he was returning to old habits of going quiet in the face of criticism.
She took his silence for guilt and, since she really did not believe that he had spent the entire night outside just thinking of his dead brother, she began hotly questioning him. "If you wanted to be with another, more delicate lady you should have told me that a long time ago," she cried.
"Those were never my words, nor my feelings. If you do not have trust in me you should have me that a long time ago!" Faramir said, anger forcing him out of his quiet.
"Maybe not your words or feelings, but what about your actions? Even i have heard the tales of your brother's actions, and if what you tell me is true, your mother's actions as well. I suppose it must be in your blood," she spat, not realizing how terribly hurtful her words were.
Suddenly rage drained out of the Steward, replaced by shock. No one had even mentioned his mother in a long time, and certainly not so disrespectfully. Faramir shuddered in deep sadness. He tried to find words, but none came to his mind or heart, there was only the feeling of having made an awful mistake. The only thing he muttered as he left the room was, "Goodbye, Éowyn."
