Grey Wood.
For the rest of the ride to Minas Tirith Glorfindel and Erestor were silent as ever, only now their silence was no longer uncomfortable, but contemplative. Both Elves seemed quite lost in thought. Several times others noticed Erestor looking sideways at Glorfindel as the Balrog-slayer slept at night. Often was Glorfindel seen outright staring at Erestor as the Chief Advisor read peacefully. Everyone was highly impressed with what the twins had conjured up, for once they had managed to come up with something which would serve a good purpose. Now it was just a matter of waiting until their work came to fruition.
The last camp before they reached Minas Tirith the next evening was made in Grey Wood. That night Glorfindel offered to join the watch, the Elves being still somewhat cautious so close to Mordor. The seneschal strolled along away from the camp while most of the other Elves walked only the paths of the dreams gifted to them by Lórien.
Erestor, however, did not sleep. His thoughts kept him from any restful sleep. Could it have been true what Elrond and the twins said back in Halifirien? Could Glorfindel really love him, but be afraid to say so for fear of being outwitted?
Glorfindel. There was a name that conjured up in the dark-haired Elf a maelstrom of emotions that was unreal. And a host of memories as well. Things that Erestor had never shared with another living soul.
How many years had it been? It was ages since Gondolin and the Balrog fell, taking Glorfindel with them. Most of those who had escaped, Erestor himself included, fled to Arvernien and then to the Isle of Balar. Erestor had not always been the strictly regimented, sharp-tongued Elf that he was famous for being, and in Gondolin he was known (by those who knew him at all) as a quiet, bookish Elf who's way with words was unmatched. But Erestor was never exactly considered well-organized, some even went so far as to refer to him as a lazy Elfling.
Nor was Erestor what one might call a "social butterfly." Some of the elleth variety had taken note of him, charmed by his relaxed but shy ways, but he ignored them, much to their dismay. There was, however, one who had caught Erestor's eye and more. A tall, blond, statuesque warrior who was Lord of the House of the Golden Flower. For years, Erestor did what he could to be in the presence of said Lord, hoping that Glorfindel would take interest in him on his own. Nothing ever happened though, other than the few glances he received from the noble Vanya. Still, as time went on, Erestor's heart told him more and more insistently that Glorfindel was most certainly the one.
One evening a grand festival had been held in Gondolin and it was that night that Erestor decided that it had been long enough. He had to at least try to tell Glorfindel all that beset his heart in the warrior's name. It took every bit of the Noldo's courage to walk up to Glorfindel as guests mingled about the King's grand halls. "Lord Glorfindel," Erestor said bowing respectfully, "might i have a moment of your time?" he managed to ask debonairly.
"Certainly, good -" Glorfindel paused, trying to think of what he had heard the dark-haired Elf called, but never had a chance to recall it as suddenly an attack was raised against the Hidden City. Survivors fled Gondolin and warriors continued to fight to clear their way along the narrow pass at Cirith Thoronath. It was there that the Balrog met Glorfindel who valiantly battled the beast, and it was also there that Erestor watched helplessly as Glorfindel was taken down into the rocky abyss with the demon.
It was years later when Eärendil came into his own that Erestor was brought on as his advisor and they quickly became dear friends, as often do those who have shared common struggles. Erestor confided in Eärendil, as he later would Elrond, that he had lost someone very dear at Gondolin, and there were many times that Eärendil and his son had both comforted Erestor in his hysterics. In the years after Glorfindel's death and, subsequently, Erestor's advisory appointment, that he began to take life more seriously. No longer a poetic, "lazy" Elf, Erestor sought to bury his love for Glorfindel and pain at losing him under a mask of efficiency. Before long, it became a lifestyle for him.
When Eärendil sailed West and won the breaking of the curse of the Noldor, Erestor was taken on by Gil-Galad and became famous for his competency. After the Last Alliance, from which Ereinion Gil-Galad did not return, Erestor was hesitant to follow the son of Eärendil to the settlement he had established in the valley of the Bruinen, feeling that all whom he loved and served were cursed by his loyalty, the one Noldo who was not granted a reprieve from Mandos' doom.
Elrond practically dragged him along from Lindon though, as Erestor was to Elrond one of the last real links he had to his father. It was there in Rivendell that the Valar took pity on one lonely Elf, and when one day a Lord Glorfindel came to Imladris, looking as perfect as he always had in Tumladen. Suddenly, Erestor had been given a second chance, but something was different this time and Glorfindel seemed more unapproachable than ever before. A light of Valinor shone about him, stronger than the natural light of the Eldar.
This time, Erestor refused to allow his emotions to run away with him again. He was not the same Elf he was all those years ago and he would not succumb to such foolishness. When Elrond asked Glorfindel to become his second-in-command, Erestor only acted colder to the blond Elf. Damn it, he would not trifle with love again, no matter what kind of defenses it took. When Glorfindel had first noticed Erestor, some several months after arriving in Imladris, he was convinced he knew him from somewhere, but Erestor flatly denied it, insisting that there were many Noldor at Gondolin and surely it was another he remembered. Erestor also refused to allow himself to get close to Glorfindel because he feared that he would fall prey to the curse Erestor still believed he carried, though that may have been Erestor's excuse to himself for just not wanting to get hurt so deeply again.