oook, this one got a little bit long for flash fiction, but hey! Who cares!
Note: this is not meant as Glorfindel/Erestor slash, though may be interpreted as such if the reader so desires it. I wrote this as close friendship, but am not against slash and would not be offended if you took is as such. :))
On the Brink
"And," concluded Erestor, neatly packing the stacked papers together with his pale hands so that no corners stuck out of place, "tomorrow we can make the rounds on horseback as usual to document the current situations and general prosperity of Imladris' population."
"But Erestor!" Glorfindel whined, feeling his bandaged side gingerly as he spoke, "I am still badly wounded, how can you expect me to get on a horse!"
"You will be fine, Glorfindel." Erestor replied dismissively, pulling out a new crisp white sheet of paper and beginning to cover it with his elegant, flowing script.
"But what if I had died? I might have, you know. But you kept your pretty little nose stuck in some book somewhere, you wouldn't have known of my suffering and close call with Mandos." Glorfindel protested bitterly, for his wound was truly no laughing matter, ruffling the fur on Erestor's cat's compliant head for emphasis.
"But you did not die, Glorfindel, you cannot die." Erestor sighed as if explaining a a simple fact to a confused elfling, not even lifting his eyes from his work.
"Of course I can die, Erestor! I have died once before, and I can certainly do it again." he grumbled, not noticing as Erestor's writing became nonsense, his flowing script became illegible, his eyes lost their focus.
The horrible memories flooded in before Erestor could stop them, of that horrible day not a fortnight ago, when Glorfindel had been carried back bloody and unconscious by the surviving members of his patrol in the middle of the night, as he had been rushed to the healing ward.
"Let me in! Let me see him! What is the matter with him, what are you not telling me? Let me in, I must see him! I must!" Erestor cried frantically, his voice rising higher in pitch and in volume with every word as he pushed through the bustle of anxious healers and into the room in which they had lain the hero of Imladris.
Erestor was suddenly silent, and a small gasp escaped him as he saw Glorfindel, Glorfindel the invincible, Glorfindel the unbeatable, Glorfindel the protector of others lying unconscious on the cot, his golden hair spread out in disarray about his deathly pale face, the face that always held so much joy and will to live. He barely breathed, and there was blood everywhere.
Too much blood.
The healers had given up.
"Erestor," Glorfindel ventured quietly, head turned away, focusing intently on the wash-basin sitting at the other side of the room, "would you have been sad if I had died?"
The pen stopped its meaningless scribble completely, Erestor gripping it so hard that his knuckles turned white.
"Glorfindel! No, please, you cannot die! You cannot leave me here alone! Please!" Erestor choked, his usually carefully controlled voice becoming so raw with emotion that it sounded as if it might break as he gently brushed the bloodied hair from the unnaturally pale face, feeling more helpless than he ever had in his entire life.
Elrond stood, a shadow in the doorway, watching sadly as the usually reserved advisor laid his head down on Glorfindel's chest in defeat, quaking with gut-wrenching sobs.
He wondered if there would be more than one life lost for Glorfindel's valiant deeds which had saved so many, but would hurt so many more if the elf lord could not make it through the night.
"Oof!" Glorfindel gasped, the air being knocked out of him as he was body-slammed by Erestor, who was clinging to him desperately in the manner of a baby being wrenched from his mother, small body shaking against Glorfindel's own.
A choked sob escaped the advisor, and Glorfindel held him close, leaning his face down into Erestor's soft dark hair.
Elrond stood, a shadow in the doorway, smiling as Erestor made Glorfindel promise never to be so foolish and valiant ever again.
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