Chapter Ten: Home
Elrond exited the room and gently closed the door behind himself. Mírhael was at his elbow.
"Milord? Will the lad recover?" asked the apprentice healer, worry creasing his forehead.
"Yes, he will recover. His most serious injury is a broken arm, and it was well-splinted, so the bone should mend quickly. He is exhausted, but a few days' bed rest will remedy that. I am more concerned about his message."
Mírhael swallowed. "Do you think it is true, then? I thought that perhaps he was delirious when he gave it."
Elrond sighed. "I wish I could believe that, but my heart tells me otherwise. Something evil happened to them in the wilderness."
The healer's face fell. "What can we do?"
"For now, watch Rasaras and alert me when he awakes. I will send a messenger to his family. A room should be prepared for Erestor, since Rasaras said that he was wounded, and I will tell the guards to watch the borders for any sign of Glorfindel."
Mírhael bowed. "Yes, milord." He went back into Rasaras's room and shut the door.
Elrond found a messenger a few minutes later and sent him to Eltathar's house, with a short message that Rasaras had returned with minor injuries and he was being tended in the healing halls.
He paused for a moment before a large window in the hallway. Snow was falling again outside, and the sunset had faded into night. Imladris had lost so much… they could not lose Glorfindel and Erestor as well.
Elbereth, he prayed silently, protect them. Guide them. Bring them home to us.
The starless sky was silent.
Rasaras lay for a few seconds in the dreamlike state between sleeping and waking. The room around him was warm, and it smelled fresh and clean. He could hear the sound of a fire crackling in the hearth. His pillow was so soft that his head felt like it was floating, and the blankets were tucked around his chin. He took a deep, contented breath.
"Rasaras?" The voice barely penetrated his tranquil state.
"Just a few more minutes, Nana," he murmured, lifting his left arm to wave away the person that he was sure was his mother coming to wake him up for morning guard duty.
There was a moment of silence. "I am not your mother," said the voice with a note of surprise and unease.
The unfamiliar voice and the sudden jolt of pain through his arm made Rasaras jerk fully awake. He stared at his surroundings, then at the strange person standing beside his bed. "Where am I, and who are you?" he asked.
The stranger turned away from Rasaras and began fumbling with items on the table beside Rasaras's sickbed. "I am Mírhael Laiquerillion, an apprentice healer to Lord Elrond of Imladris," he said in a distinctly male voice that held a distinctly Noldorin accent. This Elf was definitely not Rasaras's mother. "You are in Lord Elrond's halls of healing. Do you remember how you came to be here?"
Memories came slowly back into focus. The departure… the Númenóreans… the battle… the wolves… stumbling into Imladris…
"Yes," he finally said.
Mírhael paused in his task of mixing a small dish of ground herbs. "Lord Elrond said to fetch him when you awoke. I will return momentarily." He quickly left the room.
Rasaras sighed and stared into the fire. So much had happened in the last few days. It was hard to believe that Captain Belegon, Arandur, and Malchathol were really gone, but they were. They had died for… for what? There was no reason. No grand cause. No history-shaping battle. And why did the Númenóreans attack them? There was no reason. No purpose. Just wasted lives. None of it made any sense.
The door opened and Lord Elrond strode into the room. He was dressed in his green healer's robes and he was carrying a small kettle of water, but he gave Rasaras a kind smile as he walked in. "How are you feeling this morning?" Lord Elrond asked.
Rasaras paused—there was no way he could bow to his lord, or show him any sign of respect, since he was stretched out on a bed in the healing chambers. "Much better, milord."
"I am glad to hear it," said Lord Elrond sincerely. He put the kettle on the fire and stirred in the ground herbs that Mírhael had mixed.
"Have Lord Glorfindel or Master Erestor arrived?" asked Rasaras, half dreading the answer.
"Not yet," answered Lord Elrond with a sigh. "But the border guards are keeping watch. If you wish, I will have someone let you know when they arrive."
Rasaras nodded. "Thank you."
There was a moment of silence while Lord Elrond stirred the contents of the kettle. "If you do not mind," he said, his back to Rasaras, "I would like to know what happened in the wilderness."
Rasaras swallowed. "We were attacked by Númenóreans."
Lord Elrond froze. He let go of the spoon and turned around, his keen gray eyes full of surprise. "Númenóreans? Are you certain?"
"Yes," whispered Rasaras. "Their leader was named Morazôn. There was a blizzard, and we took shelter in a cave, but the Númenóreans were already there. They invited us to stay, and were very kind and generous, but then that night they attacked us. We did nothing to provoke them." He took a deep breath. "We were victorious, but Captain Belegon, Malchathol, and Arandur died in the battle. Master Erestor was hurt badly, and Lord Glorfindel sent me ahead so that I could warn you and you would be ready."
Lord Elrond swallowed, then resolutely turned back to the bubbling kettle and took it off of the fire. "What do you remember about Erestor's injuries?" he asked, his voice taut.
Rasaras grimaced as he recalled the ordeal of trying to sew the cut on Erestor's shoulder closed. "His ankle was broken, there was a cut on the back of his head, and we had to put stitches in a long cut on his shoulder."
Lord Elrond thought for a moment. "Was there a lot of blood?"
Rasaras flinched. It seemed like that had been all there was in the cave. Blood on the weapons, blood on the floor, blood on his hands… "Yes," he breathed.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. It was not a quiet knock, as Rasaras would have imagined that it would be if of Lord Elrond's assistants had arrived. It was loud, fast, and insistent.
Lord Elrond strode to the door and opened it a crack, then turned to Rasaras with a small smile. "You have a visitor." He stepped back to let the Elf in, then left the room.
Eltathar practically flew to Rasaras's bedside. He was still wearing his cloak, there was snow clinging to his clothes, and his hair was a bit messy. He looked as if he had come in a hurry.
"Father," Rasaras said weakly. He had never been so overwhelmed by the sight of his father before. He had been terribly homesick for the first few days on the journey, but everything that had happened had pushed that to the back of his mind. Only now, finally seeing his father, did he remember how much he had missed him.
Eltathar pushed a few loose strands of hair out of Rasaras's face. "I am here, my Rasaras, I am here," he murmured. "I came as soon as I received Lord Elrond's message."
Rasaras reached with his uninjured arm and clasped his father's wrist, holding the hand to his face. "I missed you." More than I ever thought I would, he wanted to say.
Eltathar sat down on the side of the mattress and bent forward to kiss his son's forehead. He had not done that since Rasaras was an Elfling. "I am sorry that we sent you on that journey," he said. "I never thought that it would be so dangerous."
"They all died, Father," Rasaras said. "Everyone but me, and Lord Glorfindel and Master Erestor. Everyone else died."
"I know. Lord Elrond told me that my son is a tried warrior now." There was a note of sadness in his voice.
Rasaras closed his eyes. "I killed them. The Men. One of them tried to kill Lord Glorfindel… I didn't stop to think about what I was doing. I killed him. It was so easy to kill him." He tried to keep his voice steady. "He looked—startled—there was blood on my sword and my hands—so much blood."
Eltathar pulled Rasaras up against his chest. "You didn't run away."
"I couldn't," he choked. "They needed me. Malchathol and the others. I tried to help them, but they died anyway. They all died."
"Hush, Rasaras," breathed Eltathar, gently running his fingers through Rasaras's unbraided hair. "You did nothing wrong. You stood your ground like a warrior and did everything you could." He held Rasaras to himself as tightly as he could, being careful of the broken arm. "I could not be more proud of you."
Rasaras could stand it no longer. Feeling more like an Elfling than a warrior, he buried his face in his father's shirt and cried.
Glorfindel gritted his teeth. They were so close. So very close.
He was soaking wet, since he had given Erestor his cloak, and even though the snow did not chill him, it was hardly comfortable. His muscles were sore from the hours of riding at breakneck speed, and he cold tell that Súlfëa was tiring. And Erestor… Glorfindel was afraid to check his pulse for fear that he wouldn't find it. He would rather just believe that the advisor was still alive. He tightened his grip on the Elf, hoping that perhaps sheer willpower would be enough to keep him alive until Elrond could help him.
It was strange, he reflected as Súlfëa flew over the drifts. He couldn't figure out why he was so intent on keeping Erestor alive. It wasn't about proving anything to Elrond—the advisor's wounds were serious enough that it would be understandable if he died because of them. It wasn't about placating Belegon or Arandur—they were dead. It wasn't about duty—he was doing that already, and duty didn't require him to care. But he did. He cared very much.
He thought back over the conversations he had had with Erestor, and the times when he had observed the advisor without Erestor knowing it. There was something different about him. He was acrimonious, yes, and he distrusted almost everyone. At first he had reminded Glorfindel of Maeglin, the traitorous son of Eöl that had been responsible for Gondolin's fall, and he had almost felt justified disliking him. But the more he was around Erestor, the more he realized that perhaps he had misjudged him. Maeglin would not have looked genuinely repentant if rebuked, Maeglin would not have thanked Glorfindel for a kindness, and Maeglin would not have asked about his safety right after a battle. But Erestor had done those things.
Arandur had said that Erestor was not being vindictive when he lashed out. At first Glorfindel had dismissed the idea, but now that he thought about it, he had to admit that it was possible. Anger is a secondary emotion, his father had told him once. It always stems from something deeper. Learn to look behind anger, and judge the reason before you judge the person who is angry. Glorfindel had taken his father's advice to heart, and had become very good at figuring out what made people angry. Usually it was fear, or wounded pride, or frustration. Sometimes it was even love, when people would become furious on behalf of a loved one who had been wronged. Glorfindel always dealt with the cause of the anger, and because of that had been widely regarded as a good 'people person.' It was certainly a useful skill.
Now he considered all the times that Erestor had become angry with him, trying to see what might have been the cause. Erestor had seemed angry when he had first seen Glorfindel at Elrond's dinner… but that was an easy one. Erestor always looked uncomfortable and slightly bored at official dinners. It had probably had nothing to do with Glorfindel at all. Erestor had been angry when Lindir had decided that he would rather work with Glorfindel… that one was easy, too. Erestor had simply been hurt. He had tried to do something nice for Lindir, and his offer had been soundly and unceremoniously rejected. Erestor had been angry when Glorfindel had made the joke about his appearance and limp… obviously that anger stemmed from hurt as well. Erestor couldn't help looking like that, and he had been limping because he had injured himself on the ice.
Glorfindel glanced down at the pale Elf. His eyes were still closed, and his shallow breathing was barely enough to make a visible cloud around his mouth in the cold air. He looked vulnerable. It was obvious how precariously he was clinging to life.
Fear found its way into the pit of Glorfindel's stomach. It would be so easy for Erestor to die. Even if he did make it home alive, there was no guarantee that Elrond would be able to help him. Grief for his friends' deaths had weakened him considerably, and the injuries were serious enough that they could push him off the edge.
Glorfindel couldn't let that happen.
He couldn't remember a time when he had so seriously misjudged a person, or been so blindly prejudiced. Erestor had to stay alive… if only so that Glorfindel could have the chance to apologize.
Imladris came into view with all the suddenness of a bolt of lightning. They were minutes away from home.
Súlfëa seemed to come alive at the sight of the stables. She flew down the path like a thing possessed, her legs a blur against the snow. Glorfindel shouted encouragement to her as she neared the bright House.
Finally they arrived. Súlfëa came to a stumbling halt, panting and wheezing. A stable hand ran up as Glorfindel slid off her back and then eased Erestor off as well.
The stable hand shouted something to Glorfindel, but he did not have the time to listen or answer. He had to reach the halls. He had to reach Elrond. The limp Elf in his arms depended on him.
He ignored the pandemonium that his arrival created in the main hall. The Elves had good reason to be surprised at the sight of a wet, bedraggled Elf-lord rushing into the House of Elrond with a Chief Advisor who looked for all the world like a corpse, but there was no time to explain anything to them.
Elrond met him in the doorway to one of the healing chambers. No words of greeting were exchanged as the lord gently took Erestor and placed him on one of the sickbeds. There was already a fire in the hearth, a stack of fresh bandages on the table, and a change of dry clothes nearby.
Glorfindel's job was over. Everything was in Elrond's hands now. He had accomplished his duty, both to his lord and to Erestor.
With that thought in mind, Glorfindel collapsed into one of the empty sickbeds nearby and immediately fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Author's Notes
seeing-spots: You and your incredible reviews! Yes, Glorfindel is a wonderful character, and the more I read (and write!) about him, the more I love him. When am I going to get to read more of "From the Ashes"? It's been a while since you updated… ;) And "Scarlet Leaves"… thank you! I think I'm going to have to expound upon Erestor's departure, especially that one particular image that I cannot get out of my head… but we'll see. Thank you so much for all of your lovely reviews!
Undomearel Ithilien: It made you cry? Wow, thank you!
kenzimone: Wow, what a review! It's an incredible honor to think that you love this story so much. I agree, there's definitely not enough non-slash Erestor-and-Glorfindel stories! It's depressing to read through the list and want to gag at the summaries. I'm glad you like the characterization… Glorfindel pretty much writes himself for this story, but I'm always hesitant about Erestor, since he's so much like me that I run the risk of making him a strange species of self-insertion. I love angst too… well-done angst seems to deepen the characters, somehow. I hope the wait wasn't too long! And as for "Scarlet Leaves"—Pippin and Erestor are two of my favorite characters, and it's fun to watch them interact. Sam's mallorn is one of my favorite parts, too. ;)
LOTRFaith: Thank you very much! I'm glad that I ended up posting "Fallen to Ashes"… when I wrote it, I never intended to show it to anyone else, but I'm glad I finally did.
Vana Tuivana: I'm really overwhelmed by the response to "Fallen to Ashes"! It's such a depressing story that I didn't know if anyone would even like it, and I'm amazed that so many people have! I couldn't imagine that Celegorm would have had a peaceful death—since he made sure that so many others had miserable deaths—but at the same time, I could never get it out of my head that even though he was a vicious kinslayer, he was still Maglor's baby brother. Thank you so much for your review!
Ellie in ElfPajamas: Well, so far he's alive… so far… muahaha… ;) Just kidding. This is a non-slash fic, and I'm a non-slash person, so there's no way he's going to be gay in this story! And I don't think liking angst is sadistic… I have yet to figure out why people (like me) adore angst, but I don't think it's sadism. Thank you so much for your review!
SilverWolf7: Gracious, that does sound like a strange dream… did he seem to recognize you, as if he might have had the same dream? Glorfindel definitely has a lot on his plate now! Yes, I like that description… one relatively whole piece. That pretty much describes poor Rasaras! And thank you for your review of "Scarlet Leaves"! I wanted this one to be a little different… Post-Quest Pippin wasn't quite as merry and jolly as Pre-Quest Pippin, but it was good that he and Erestor could cheer one another up. Thank you so much for all your reviews!
Scott: Elves are indeed challenging to write, for that very reason, but even though they're hard, I'm addicted to them. :) I'm glad you like my portrayal… nothing I do is perfect, but I'm honored that you think I did well. Thank you for your review!
Elfique: Thank you! Death scenes are interesting to write, because they're a delicate balance… there is constantly the danger of overdoing it in one aspect or another. I'm glad you enjoyed (sort of) "Fallen to Ashes"!
Annie789: Wow, what a review! I didn't realize how much people would like this story before I posted it, especially since almost everyone hates Celegorm. Thank you so much for your review!
Ellfine: Thank you! I didn't really think about the technical aspects of the story while I was writing it… I just let it flow, and then went back later and edited it until I was satisfied with the way it sounded. I'm so glad that you enjoyed it! And you printed out all nine chapters of "First Impressions"! That's incredible… I think you're probably the only person that has a hard copy! I know I don't… our printer is a sad little machine. Sorry that this update took a while, but I've had a pretty hectic few weeks. And as for "Scarlet Leaves"… Pippin and Erestor are fun to write together, because they seem to balance one another out. Pippin is young and merry, and Erestor is ancient and thoughtful, but both are willing to learn from one another. Thanks for your reviews!
jilian baade: Thank you for your review… yes, it was sad to write, and whenever I reread it I was always pretty depressed for a while. But I'm glad that you liked it!
Neige: Having never had a broken arm myself, I have to guess what it's like, but I can imagine that it is indeed very painful! By the way, I don't fault you for adoring Glorfindel… he's definitely adorable! I just have an extremely soft spot for Erestor. This chapter is called "Home," yes… but will they be all right? Muahaha. You'll see. And thank you for your review of "Fallen to Ashes," too! It's hard to hate the Sons of Fëanor… especially Maglor. I love him dearly. I think the idea that started this story was that, yes, Celegorm was an awful kinslayer, but he's still Maglor's little brother. And we older siblings can never forget a thing like that. :)
kel: Yes, poor Erestor. :hugs Erestor: Yes, they are almost home… but "home" doesn't automatically mean "out of danger"! Thanks for your review!
BanbieBunny: I wasn't trying to write an "angst" story, really, but I guess that's just how it happened. I wondered about the scene, and then I wrote it. I agree a lot of angst isn't really sad… but I'm glad that you liked this one. Thank you so much for your review!
Evenstar Elanor: Thank you! You really think that this is the best death scene that you ever read? Wow, what a compliment! Thank you so much for your review, and I'm glad that you enjoyed it!
Naz: It made you cry? Wow. I'm glad that you thought it was so moving! Thank you so much for reviewing!
Avalon Estel: What, you mean you don't want me to have Erestor injured beyond recovery? How strange. I wouldn't want Glorfindel to be my doctor, either… I hope he's a better warrior than he is a healer! And thank you so much for your review of "Scarlet Leaves"! The Elves' leaving always seemed to be so awful to me, too, but writing this story seemed to make it a little clearer to me, too. As far as the trees, the leaves die, and life goes on. In Middle-earth, the Elves depart, and life goes on… not quite as beautiful, but not wholly desolate. Erestor is wonderful no matter what he's doing, and Pippin… Pippin just makes everything that much better. :) And wow, thank you for the review of "Fallen to Ashes"! Maedhros and Maglor are my favorites, too, but I always felt strangely sorry for Celegorm. I mean, he was always described as "Celegorm the Fair," and it seemed awful to me that something so fair could have fallen so far. To Maglor, he was just little brother Tyelkormo. Yes, don't forget your sisters! Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews!
Lady Elwen Iluvalatari: Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews! I'm glad that you liked "Fallen to Ashes"… I wasn't sure how much sympathy anyone would have for Celegorm, since he does some pretty awful things in the Sil, but I had to pity him when I looked through Maglor's eyes. I can't imagine that even Fëanor's family was always ruthless and nasty. It almost made you cry? Wow. And as for your FI review… yes, it's easy to get attached to OCs! I've come to adore Rasaras, and I have an almost maternal desire to protect him from anything, so don't expect to see his death scene anytime soon. No, I don't think Dr. Glorfindel is going to start practicing medicine… though the mental picture of him in a lab coat is interesting. As for killing off Erestor… did I mention that this story is AU? ;) And I have to direct your grammarian's comments to my beta, who is and always will be the very best of betas. Yes, ErestorI mean you! ;) Thank you so much, and I'm glad that you like this story!
Lutris: Thank you! To me, a lot of writing is just intended to capture feelings, so I'm glad that you enjoyed that!
Rhys: Wow, a review for "The Endless Sun"! It's good to think that people still enjoy that one, even if it's months old! I'm honored that you think it's so good! Thank you so much for your review!
Mithrilside: Oh, yes, they think it will all be fine… aren't they wrong! Yes, Glorfindel can be annoying, but I think he's great, too. :) Will Erestor's suffering ever end? Thank you so much for your review!
Ice Ember: Yes, Middle-earth isn't the same without the Elves… but at least they'll be happy in Valinor, right? Pippin still has Merry, and eventually he'll have a wife and son, so he still has reason for joy. :) Thank you so much for reviewing!
my-fool-of-a-took: Thank you so much! I was trying to paint a bittersweet picture, and I'm glad you liked it!
Athena Diagon Cat: LOL, are you so sure that Erestor will end up all right? ;) Thanks for your review!
Erestor: Okay, how am I supposed to reply to this review! I can't sum it all up… you are incredible, my friend. You are simply incredible. That's all I can say. I can't even try to start thanking you.
kingmaker: Wow, what an honor! I never thought about comparing my fics to St. Augustine… but I'm flattered that you have! I don't think my work would even begin to compare. I'm glad that you liked the sentence structure… that was the reason that I wasn't so sure about "Scarlet Leaves," because it didn't sound the same. I consoled myself by remembering that Pippin had changed over the Quest, and even though his parents still treated him like a young hobbit, he really wasn't one anymore. I love that t-shirt idea! I can't imagine that Erestor would find it fun to go knock his head on a few ceilings… he's going to find peace, not bruises! ;) I'm glad you thought it was worthy of "Afternoon Tea"! And you went all the way back to "Snowballs"! Wow! That piece was a lot of fun to write… Erestor is a fun character to "get into." Thank you so much for all of your reviews!
Coming Soon: Chapter Eleven: Waiting
