Title: Gone too Far Away
Rating: PG-13 for self-mutilation (sorry if you aren't into that)
Author's Note: As you saw in the summary, this is very very very dark. I was in a really bad mood when I wrote this and it probably shows. There is also non-canon character death.
It was late fall, what used to be his favorite season of the year. The colors made everything seem so perfect. The wind was now beginning to pick up, sending the leaves in vibrant patterns around Imladris. It was just starting to cool down, which made it intensely pleasant to be outside. The sky here was nearly always cloudless. The smell of snow was just beginning to infect the air and catch everyone's breath from time to time. Fall had always been his favorite time, ever since he had been an Elfling.
Now he hated it. No, worse than that. He loathed it. Loathed it with a passion. Every gust of colorful leaves brought on another wave of unquenchable grief. Every leaf that departed from the tree reminded him of what he had lost. Every time someone smiled or laughed, even if they quickly stifled it in his presence, made him want to do something unspeakable. Still, the few Elflings around here couldn't help it. For most of them, this was their favorite season, and despite the fact that most of Imladris was grieving right now, they were oblivious to it.
No one knew how terribly melancholy he felt. No one understood the pain he was going through. All of Imladris had grieved the death. Only it was worse for him. They hadn't lost a best friend, a lover; his better half. They hadn't been the ones to see the always coolly stoic elf break down and cry, sometimes for entire nights at a time. They had never been there at every single rage he got into to calm him down. They had never been there all the time. And he had. Every single instance, every time they had been together, had been running through his mind for the past week.
He had not allowed himself to say his beloved's name in all that time. It would, he was sure, just end whatever restraint he had managed to summon up. So, although he had been asked to say a few words, he had declined. He had closeted himself up to cry. He, too, was not one to cry in public. Never had been. Still, all the rage and sorrow and despair was bottling up in him, building up the pressure. He wasn't sure how much more he could take before it all became too much.
He had come out this morning because Erestor had forced him to. Erestor, who had done his valiant best to keep a smile on his face, even though he was in mourning. Erestor had woken him up this morning and told him that he couldn't stay inside anymore.
"It's safer in here."
Erestor had smiled sadly. "You have to leave sometime."
"I'm not sure I do. Look what happened to him when he left."
"That was a fluke. How many times had he been out there before? It was what he did. It was what he was suited for. It was part of him. Just like you."
That started the tears up again. He furiously wiped them away, but Erestor sat beside him on the bed and held him until the sobs subsided. "You'll never get over this unless you face it," said Erestor primly. "So you're going outside. I want you to go sit in the gardens or something. Think about anything else. It's the only way you're going to survive."
"I have lost too many…I can't go on."
"Stop being ridiculous. Of course you can. And you will. I'm not giving you a choice. We need you alive and well around here, now that he's gone."
He had done as Erestor said. Erestor was stubborn enough to be able to convince anyone to do anything. That was why he was wandering aimlessly down the paths. The brisk wind whipped around his face, forcing him to close his eyes. That was a mistake. His beloved's image appeared before him. Stumbling back, almost falling, he opened his eyes. Breathing heavily, he leaned against a tree. Looking down, he saw that his hands were shaking. Consciously, he calmed himself and stood still until the tremors wracking his body had stopped. Only then did he feel it was safe to continue.
At the next available opportunity, he fairly collapsed down onto a bench. It was cold beneath him, but the cold seemed to take away the fantastical-seeming outlook on everything. Nothing seemed quite real. It was though he was looking at everything through a fog. Nothing was clear, and he had the dismal feeling that nothing would ever be clear again.
I love you a voice seemed to whisper in the wind. I will always be with you. I love you forever, meleth-nin.
"Liar," he said, "liar." He recalled that this was what his lover had said the first night that they had slept together. Not even wanting to close his eyes, he could still imagine it. It was completely improbable that they had ended up as lovers; they were both surprisingly shy when it came down to romance, and they had been sidestepping each other for decades.
Lying in his beloved's arms, feeling complete for the first time in his life, as his lover continued to trace gentle kisses down his neck and chest, licking the perspiration from their rather frantic lovemaking, biting him in certain well-located spots so that all of Imladris would know he was claimed, he knew there was no one else he would ever be happy with. Millennia of bliss had followed. They were elves, they were both relatively immortal. There was no reason they ever need be parted. With a sad smile, he recalled that they had been planning their bonding ceremony only last week.
Tears started to trace down his cheeks, and he did not even have the energy to brush them away. Feeling the sting in his eyes as the cold air hit the salty liquid blurring his vision, he took a deep breath and rose to his feet. He had been out here too long.
You are the most perfect elf I have ever known.
He smiled bitterly. That had been the note on his gift their hundredth anniversary. They had been fighting but that had deftly ended the fight. He remembered finding the note on his desk that morning. All work forgotten, he had immediately gone to see his beloved and they had made love right in his office. They hadn't cared if anyone saw or heard them. That didn't matter. All that mattered was that they had been in love.
A fresh stream of tears coursed down his face. Leaning back against a tree as he started to be overcome, he sank down to the ground and clutched his knees to chest, hugging them tightly. He didn't care if anyone saw him in this undignified position. That wasn't important.
Nothing, he realized, was important anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. There was nothing that would spark any interest in him anymore. It was all gone. Every spark of life was gone out of him. He was a shell of who he had been, and nothing would be enough to convince him to pick the pieces up again. His self had been scattered to the wind.
Pulling himself up, he knew it was time to go to be alone. He had broken down again and it was at times like this that it was necessary for him to be alone. He couldn't bear for anyone, even Erestor, to see him like this. This was just about as bad as it got.
Every gesture reminded him of his lover. When he pushed his long hair out of his face, he was reminded of how his lover liked to play with his hair after they had had sex. A bitter smile appeared on his face at that one. When he heard the gentle tread of footsteps echoing behind him, he was reminded of how his lover would sneak up on him and ambush him in some secret places. He had lost count of the places they had made love. He had scolded his lover once, only half in jest, "We are among the most important elves on Arda. What would you say if someone caught us acting like Elflings?"
"I don't care," his lover had replied. "I don't care. I love you. I don't care who knows that. Nothing will convince me to stop this."
He began to hum a song to try to get his mind off of things, as Erestor had suggested. It took him about fifteen seconds to realize that he was humming his lover's favorite song. Once he realized this, he ran inside, not caring who saw him or what anyone thought of him. He had to be alone, he had to get away.
Then he made the mistake of going to his lover's rooms. That had only brought more tears. Ever since he had received the news, he had moved back into his rooms. Finally making it back to his room, he collapsed down onto his bed, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. He didn't hear Erestor enter the room, didn't notice his presence until the slender dark-haired elf embraced him. "Shh," Erestor murmured in his ear. He did not tell him it would be okay, because they both knew that this would never again be okay. Erestor was smart enough to understand that.
"Go away."
"I'm not leaving you alone. You're not well, and everyone here, myself including, cares about you too much. I'm sorry, but I can't leave you alone."
"If you care about me at all, you will."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not going."
He pinned Erestor face-down and drew his dagger. He pressed the tip lightly against the back of Erestor's neck. "You will leave now."
"You'd have to let me up first." Erestor knew when he had taken it too far and wasn't going to press the issue. As soon as the blade of the dagger was removed, Erestor slipped off the bed. "You know where to find me if you need anything. Anything."
"Go away." He buried his head into a pillow until he heard the gentle click as Erestor closed the door behind him. He waited for a minute to make sure that Erestor was really gone and then rolled onto his side.
He didn't want to hurt Erestor. Erestor had done nothing but comfort him. It was wrong of him to snap at Erestor and he would apologize later. There was no need to take out his agony on Erestor.
Then he realized that he was still holding the dagger, could feel its cold weight in his hand. It was, he realized with another sad smile, another gift from his beloved. It was beautiful, with an ornately carved hilt decorated with two rubies. Incomprehensibly impractical, it was still beautiful, and he had never taken it off his person.
Almost before he realized what he was doing, the dagger was poised expectantly at the soft skin on the inside of his forearm. Applying just a little pressure, the cold steel bit lightly into his arm. A thin stream of blood appeared. It was funny, but it didn't hurt, not even a little. Pressing a little harder, the blade sank a little deeper. A little more blood trickled out.
He knew that he was not in control of himself now and deep down he knew that he should call Erestor. Erestor would take care of him and stay with him until this fit of madness that had suddenly possessed him stopped. Only he couldn't stop himself. The slightly lightheaded feeling that passed over him approached calm and collected. It was the first time he had felt that way since he had heard the news. Seeing his lifeblood leave his own body seemed to be a repayment. A life for a life.
Wanting to close his eyes, but keeping them open in morbid fascination, he began to seriously work on his arm. Quick, vigorous slashes produced the ever-calming lifeblood, dripping off his arm and soaking into the sheets of the bed. It wasn't long before he could no longer see most of his arm for the blood that coated it. His slashes were not random, they were clear and meaningful.
He dared not pause for the feeling that he might lose his nerve. Some of the pain was starting to become evident. Now he was having to bite his tongue to continue. This had purged the madness out of him, but he wasn't finished yet. He couldn't stop yet. By the time he was finished, he was gasping in pain. The dagger dropped from his suddenly seemingly nerveless right hand to land on the bed. It was covered in blood, from the tip of the blade all the way to the hilt. The rubies were the only part of the dagger that seemed to benefit from this. It was as if they had drunken in the blood and that made them shine ever more radiantly.
Now that his madness was completely gone, he stared at his arm objectively. With a completely clear mind, he rose and walked to the bathroom to wash the blood off, leaving a trail of red behind him. The crimson liquid soaked into the sleeve of his shirt, dripped onto and soaked into his leggings.
It took several minutes of washing to clean the blood off and rinse it down the sink. It took longer than that for the blood to stop flowing. When it was all done, before he took out the clean white gauze and wrapped away his shame, he stared at what he had done.
'Elrond,' it read.
Glorfindel closed his eyes as, once again, he began to weep.