A Midnight Conversation

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's note: As I fully immerse myself into my most recent obsession, here you have it. A conversation between Erestor and Glorfindel pre-Fellowship of the Ring assemblement.

"Will you go?"

Glorfindel turned around. At the threshold stood a familiar figure, one near and dear to him. He turned back to the window, staring at the stars in the sky, remembering the glory of the lady Varda.

"You are asking me this as if you do not know my answer," he replied, after a short pause.

The bed sunk beside him as the dark-haired elf sat next to him. His pale skin shone in the moonlight. "I do, but still, I hope that I am proved wrong."

He smiled at the ellon's optimism. It was almost humorous. "You will not be," he answered. "Like always."

"It is not wise to go on such a mission," his friend persisted. Suddenly, a rage that rarely bubbled in him rose up, and he snapped back.

"You are one to speak of wise, the one who says that we throw the ring in the sea! It is not a silmaril, Erestor. It shall certainly end up in the dark lord's hands. That being a wise choice is like saying that Sauron will come down assuming his fair form and trick the elves of Imladris." As soon as he said those words, he regretted them. Erestor's face was filled with sadness, as well as an anger, and nostalgic as well for his old abode of Eregion.

"I go too far," Glorfindel said after a short pause.

"Yes, you do," Erestor's voice was deceptively calm.

"I am sorry," he said, and the sincerity in his tone would be clear to even a dead dog.

Erestor sighed. "I accept your apologies. But still, you have already died once, Glorfindel, and this mission shall be perilous, perhaps may even end in your death."

"I do not fear my death, Erestor! If I do not die, many shall die instead of me!" Memories of fire and pain rose within, and unbidden, his hand went to finger his golden hair, loose in the wind. The balrog had been a mighty foe, a fallen maia, once of the same kindred as the Enemy in the East. He had no doubt that the Dark Lord would be twice more deadly.

"Have you thought of those who will be left behind?" Erestor had raised his voice. He winced as the voice carried in the silent night. Erestor raising his voice was a bad sign. He almost never shouted. "Have you thought of Lord Elrond, of Elladan and Elrohir and-," the elf faltered. His voice was low as he sounded out the next two syllables. "And me?"

"I never knew you cared so much."

"Well, now you know," Erestor's voice was indifferent.

"I still shall not be dissuaded," he continued. He had always been stubborn. It was a mixture of that stubbornness and bravery that led to him fighting the balrog instead of fleeing with the survivors. Or perhaps, it was the fact that all his dearest friends had been slain by the creature of flame and shadow that led to it.

"You are selfish then."

The words shocked him. "What?" he exclaimed. How was laying down his life for his friends considered selfish?

"You are selfish then, to not think of others than yourself," Erestor repeated, and in his dark eyes there was a flame, that he had never seen before.

"What do you mean?" he asked, standing up, nearly avoiding bumping his head on the curtain rod.

"Have you thought that your existence could lead to more deaths?" Erestor stood up. "Sauron has a personal grudge against you, Glorfindel, and he will surely try to kill you. You shall be second in hit list, after the hobbit." They were both in each other's faces, and he hid a wince as the words of the Noldor elf rang true in him.

"I do not understand," he said, and his voice was calm. He didn't. He didn't understand the sudden compassion that the dark-haired elf showed for him. He wasn't willing to admit that Erestor was right, again.

"Of course you don't!" Erestor shouted, and an owl fluttered off from an nearby tree, twooh-who-ing in annoyance. There was a short pause as the shorter elf panted, his face red. Then, he seemed to calm, turning around and dusting off his robes.

"Excuse me, Glorfindel, it is late, and I am tired. Goodnight." With those words, he opened the door, and went out, the hem of his robes fluttering at his heels.

"Wait, Erestor!" he exclaimed, rushing to the door to call the elf back, to say that he was sorry, just sit down, and explain to him what he meant. But his friend was long gone.

Turning back to the window, he sat down, his head in his hands as he thought. The war had been coming for a long time, and now it hit in full force. It was time to get his strategic mind back into shape.

Hope you like it, please do remind me if I get something very serious wrong. I normally check my facts most of the time, but this time I didn't. Really sorry. Review if you can and want to.