Title: Enchain

Author: Pentangle

Warning: Child abuse. Torture. (later chapters)

Characters: Everybody in the Happy Valley but no Legolas

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Glorfindel Second

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On a lovely morning one week after Erestor's attack, Estel came careering around a corner in the Last Homely House. He was hurrying because he had promised to play a game of chess with Erestor and had forgotten the time. Though to be sure, forgetfulness was only part of the reason for the speed since it was often said of him that he had only two gaits: a dawdling amble or a frenzied gallop.

The elf that carried a towering stack of bed linens was doomed from the moment he entered the corridor. He, Estel, and the linens went tumbling across the floor. Estel was appalled at what he had done and, while still struggling to get to his feet himself, tried to pull the hapless elf up with him. Thus they began a dance of rising and falling, slipping and staggering. Eventually the elf was on his feet, white hair wildly disordered, and looking at Estel as if he were a wolf about to consume him. Estel offered apologies and explanations as he darted about gathering the linens into tangled armloads.

"I am so sorry! Here, let me…I was hurrying…the sheets are…Valar! They take up more space all unfolded…are you hurt? I am so very sorry!" In spite of his original fear of this crazed human, the elf smiled shyly as he took from Estel an armload of twisted linens.

"I am not harmed, though the sheets may never be the same."

"Where were you taking them?" Estel asked as he turned to go with the elf, his own arms loaded with what had been crisp linen sheets.

"To the healing rooms. But I do not think…they have been on the floor and they are very…"

"I have an idea."

"What is that?"

"Find a wardrobe, stuff them in, and pretend we have never seen a sheet in our entire lives!"

The elf gasped, scandalized, but then his mouth twitched. The twitch became a snicker.

"It would serve you right if I just covered you with them and walked away!"

Estel nodded vigorously. "Yes, it would! You ought to do it! Then I can stuff them somewhere and you will not know anything about it!"

The elf laughed outright. "Who are you, some evil spirit sent to plague this house? No, wait…" He sobered. "You are the foster son of Lord Elrond." He dropped his sheets and bowed deeply as Estel gaped at him. "Forgive me; I should not have been so familiar…."

"Do you think my father will be angry with you? Why? He is like to be angry with me—very angry—you are the third person I have knocked down this week." Estel laughed ruefully.

"You do not fear his anger?"

"Elbereth, yes! He can go on for hours; he is terrible to behold!"

The elf peered closely at the young man's face. "You are not frightened of him—I would know by your eyes. Why do you pretend to be?"

"I am frightened of him! Anyone would be when he is in a rage!"

Surprisingly, the elf became angry. "You are not! You have never feared him a day of your life! You could not speak so if you were truly afraid! You love him!"

The last was said accusingly and Estel began to be uncomfortable. There was an odd light in the elf's eyes. Mistaking the cause of the elf's distress, Estel said soothingly, "Do not worry; I will be punished, I promise you. Severely!"

At that the elf gasped fearfully and put out a hand as if to touch Estel's arm. As though to comfort him. Even more uncomfortable, Estel stepped back and picked up the sheets again. "Shall we go? I need to visit my tutor who is not well, so I will help you and then be on my way."

They took the sheets back to the laundry where Estel explained what he had done and was roundly scolded. He meekly accepted his due and then turned to bid a polite farewell to the elf he had collided with. As he left the cavernous laundries the elf stared after him, completely at a loss for what to make of him.

Estel walked slowly toward Erestor's room, searching his memory for the elf's name and history. The elf was often in the family wing, padding silently along with his face turned a little away from anyone he met. Estel thought it odd that he did not know the elf's name. The elf had not been upset until they spoke of his Adar. Estel thought of the odd gleam he had seen in the pale blue eyes and felt a prickle along his spine.

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That evening…

After a day on the training grounds, an unusually tired Glorfindel walked slowly into his office in the armory. He had not rested well since Erestor had been assaulted because his mind would not stop circling around and around, trying to pry some bit of truth from endless conjecture. The investigation was not going well. Erestor remembered nothing that occurred between having his late tea and waking in the healing wing. The objects found in his room were common household items except for the bottles of spirit and even those had not been locked away. A fifteen minute walk would procure the reed. The situation was frustrating in the extreme.

Glorfindel crossed the room and quite uncharacteristically thumped clumsily into his chair. His elves were all dismissed to baths, meals, and beds, but he, knowing he would not be able to rest, had decided he might as well complete the next rotation's roster. Glorfindel's adjutant, Taurnil, was somewhat worried about his commander and sent someone who was hanging about the kitchen to take Glorfindel some refreshment.

Two hours later Taurnil returned to see if his commander had eaten anything or could be convinced to retire. He carried a stack of scrolls which flew in every direction at the sight that met his eyes. He shouted desperately for help as he slid to his knees beside Glorfindel's unmoving, bloody form. His shaking hands hovered over his lord, unsure what to do as he gave a keening wail of grief and rage.

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In the healing wing hall, Lord Elrond ducked a flying vase and in a long-practiced move, came up under his son's guard and grasped him by the shoulders. He shook him roughly. "Stop it! Stop it at once! He will recover. Elladan! I promise you he will be all right!"

Elladan's furious eyes stared unseeing and he struggled for a few more moments before his father's words finally penetrated. He drew short, gasping breaths as his eyes focused on his father. Glorfindel's blood, acquired while helping to transport him, covered Elladan's hands and tunic. His father still grasped his shoulders, but now more gently, offering support and understanding.

Elrond continued more moderately, "I know exactly how you feel, ion nin. But rampaging around like a wounded oliphaunt will not help him. I need you to go and speak with Taurnil; see what he knows, what he saw. I cannot do this myself for I will be working all night. But Elladan, have a care! Take Elrohir with you; none of us can be alone until we discover what is happening. And go easy with your brother—you know he feels it as much as you but will not let it show."

"Ada…his face! Are you sure…? Who could do that to his face?"

"I will not know how well he will be…restored…until I have finished. In any event he will not leave us; his life is not threatened. And no doubt in time the scars will fade. He heals amazingly fast since his rebirth. As to who?" The elf lord's voice hardened. "Someone who hates. Who will shortly learn that hatred can be returned!"

Elladan grasped his father's shoulders in turn. He smiled a little, even in the horrid circumstances. "Now who needs to calm down? You go and do for him what you can, while Elrohir and I try to get something useful from Taurnil. He will need some soothing, too; he has served Glorfindel for many years. Then we will wake Estel and tell him before he hears about it some other way. He will be distraught and will make my rampaging look tame!"

Elrond smiled as he turned toward his operating room. "That is well thought, my son. But do not forget to cleanse yourself before you go to Estel or he will be rampaging indeed. I will see you when I have finished." He drew a deep breath as he walked into the room and as he crossed the threshold he was no longer the lifelong friend of the elf that lay on the table being prepared for surgery by the healers. His mind locked such feelings away and the body before him became a puzzle to be solved, a work of art to be recreated. For he could not look on this horror and think "Glorfindel" without losing the cool nerves needed to save his friend from pity and averted eyes.

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It was late. Most elves were retiring to enjoy reverie in their rooms or walking out to stroll the gardens that were washed with moonlight. The elf writing in the windowless room was very tired. He had put in a long day with many exhausting activities. His hands shook. But he had to write a little in his journal; just a little, then he could rest. He was not so driven tonight that he must cover page after page. In fact, he was enjoying the closest thing he ever felt to peace of mind. His entry was brief and satisfying.

Fear and dread shall rule your hearts.

Who next? shall rule your thought.

Never regarded, never known;

You gaze on nemesis and see naught.

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The foremost healer of Middle-earth took several breaks during the long night, drinking strengthening tea and pacing up and down the hall while swinging aching arms and stretching cramped fingers. Then he would return to his battlefield, armed with Power and skill. He did the finest suturing he had ever done or ever would do, reassembling the face of his golden seneschal.

Dawn had broken when he opened the door for the last time that night. He leaned exhaustedly on the door frame, looking nearly every one of his many years. His robe, which he normally changed before leaving the surgery, was sodden with blood. Elrohir, Estel, and Elladan were sitting on the floor and sprang to their feet. Their questions died on their lips as they gently grasped their father's arms and led him to his quarters. They cared for him as he had for them when they were small: filling the bath, taking his defiled clothing, and tenderly pushing him into his tub. Their father leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His sons waited silently, in terrible suspense. After a long while, he began to speak.

"He will do well, I think. Although not strictly necessary I have bandaged him completely, to protect his dignity. There is no reason for anyone but the four of us and my assistants to know how extensively he was damaged. By the end of the week most of the swelling and discoloration will be gone. The scars will take longer, but eventually I believe he will be our beautiful Glorfindel again. Fortunately whoever it was used a sharp dagger. The cuts were clean-edged and fit together well. Most importantly, the eyes were only superficially injured—his eyesight is not in jeopardy." He straightened in his bath and with shaking fingers began to undo the single plait that had confined his hair.

Elrohir sat on the marble ledge of the bath. "Let me, Ada." He began to work loose the braid, gently untangling the long, dark strands that were nearly identical to his own.

Estel was white-faced and silent. He had not seen what had been done to Glorfindel but Elladan's carefully abridged description had been sufficient to leave the boy frightened and furious. Elladan put his arm around Estel's shoulders and the boy leaned against him, although he shed no tears. Elladan asked his father, "Shall I tell you what we learned from Taurnil?"

Elrond turned his tired mind to the pressing issue of what the hell was happening in his house. "What did he say?"

"He said there was a strong man-smell there." Elladan glanced apologetically at Estel. "He thinks men did it."

Elrond narrowed his eyes. "What do you think of that idea?"

Elladan shrugged, "It is preposterous and Taurnil knows it. He does not want to face what we believe: it was an elf that did this, and an elf from Imladris."

Elrohir added, "There are often men here and everyone knows how things go missing when one travels! The assailant had only to collect something from two or three guests and keep them hidden until he was ready to…to –" he stopped and darted to a washbasin, heaving. Elrond sighed. One twin threw things and shouted, but the other contained anger and fear tightly until his body rebelled.

Elladan went to Elrohir and gathered his hair back, smoothing it in his hands. "He will be our beautiful Glorfindel again, little brother. Do not think of what was done. Think only of how we will catch him, whoever he may be." Elrohir, still leaning over the basin, tipped his head to meet his brother's eyes shakily and nodded.

Elrond had left his bath and put on his robe. He crossed the room to comfort Elrohir and on the way gathered Estel with an arm around him. "I will make us all some tea. None of our stomachs are particularly steady at the moment."

When all four were settled before his fire, cups in hand, Elrond had further questions. "Who was the last to see him before the attack?"

"That elf that runs your messages sometimes. The quiet one who never meets your eyes."

"Valendil?"

"Yes. He took a tray to Glorfindel at Taurnil's request."

"We need to speak with him. Elrohir, will you question him tomorrow and bring me a report?"

Before Elrohir could answer, Estel had cut in. "I do not like him! He is everywhere, moving silently about…"

Elrond reproved him gently, "He is everywhere because we have found no true place for him and so he runs errands, helps in the kitchen, works in the laundry, and whatever else he can find to do. I must say he is very uncomplaining about doing the least agreeable chores."

Estel frowned darkly. Someone around the Last Homely House needed to keep an eye on that elf and it looked like it would have to be him.

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The next day Elrond and his sons held a council of war. Erestor, still unable to speak, had chosen to guard Glorfindel. He sat by his old friend's bed with a huge sword that made Glorfindel roll his eyes. The marshal's bruised and swollen eyelids were islands of black, green, and yellow in a sea of white bandages.

Elrohir reported on his interview. He said disgustedly, "He saw, heard, and smelled nothing. He is absolutely terrified and I would be very surprised if you could get him to leave the house now! His main concern seems to be that it was only chance that spared him and took Glorfindel. He was quaking like a leaf."

Elrond had an arrested expression in his eyes but it quickly faded. "I am getting desperate! For just a moment I thought…But it is absurd. Whoever attacked Glorfindel must be cunning and have nerves of steel, for anyone might have interrupted him. It is impossible to picture our culprit as a little wisp of an elf like Valendil."

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End Chapter 2

Next week: "Then Elladan"