I do not own Glorfindel, Erestor, Feanor, or the Valar. I also don't own Valinor, Arda, Imladris or Elrond.

This story is for entertainment purposes only. So please read and be entertained. :)

Glofindel stared into Erestor's face even as the other elf stared off into his memories. Then he broke into the steward's thoughts making him meet his gaze. "I think each elf who received one of you and Narkal's creations decided what to do with that gift themselves. And whether you made them or not, Feanor would have continued making his, which even more so helped us hurt our fellow elves."

Erestor thought briefly and nodded. "Yes, that is so."

Glorfindel sighed and decided to leave on this victory. Rising to his full immense height first, he then bent down slightly again to clap the shorter elf, lying abed, on the shoulder. "Get some rest, we've much to do before leaving together on your quest."

. . .

Mellolaes crept up the stairs. Erestor had been assigning various elves to making preparations for his absence and journey, from his bed, for the last several days. This was the last day Elrond had ordered his steward to stay abed. He would have been up even earlier save Glorfindel had told Elrond he intended to test Erestor's skill with a sword before accompanying him on such a dangerous journey. With such rigorous activity before his patient in mind, Elrond had ordered another day of strict rest beforehand. Now, on this last day abed, Erestor had sent for her.

The Silvan came to the hall, crept down it, and peaked through open door. Erestor was sitting up, something he'd not been able to do when she had first come and begun to tell him her story, Sarnhael's story, Narkal's story? The elf she had known almost her whole life as an ancient trusted hero of her people ... Did Imladris' steward actually know him better?

Mellolaes could not say she was surprised to see the Noldo fingering a shining knife about half the length and a third the width of his forearm. He looked up from the weapon to meet her gaze sadly. "Come in young one."

She did shutting the door behind her. He kept his firm gaze upon her as she then simply stood before it. "Come look at this."

She walked over to stand beside the bed, his sitting form in it, and the blade he held. The weapon, she saw was made of mithril. It's sides were perfectly symmetrical. The hilt rather than bound up with a leather grip was also metal with grooves forged in it to match perfectly to the fingers of a single hand it seemed, one with long thing fingers.

Mellolaes nodded to herself and to the ellon holding it for her examination. "It's beautiful, simple, but beautiful."

"You are looking upon what might be have been the first knife made to be concealed in one's clothing til brought forth to stave off an attack made in Valinor."

Mellolaes jerked back. Her eyes widened. Had she ever been in the presence of an object, rather than an elf, so old before? There seemed to be something sacred about the blade made in that land lit by the Two Trees and ruled openly by the Valar themselves where only the immortal could dwell.

Erestor nodded at her reaction wrapping his fingers around the blade's hilt showing they aligned perfectly with its grooves. "I designed it, with input from Narkal, for myself. If we both were to make such an object, we thought the Valar would not approve of, I wanted as much of the blame as I could get for it. Of course, once we had been successful making one for me, we worked together to make one for him, and then one for each of his brothers. This one ... is the only thing besides the clothes I was wearing at the time, I was able to bring with me from Valinor to Arda. I took it off the ships and onto the shores. I took it into the fort I helped design, and out of it to Melian's kingdom, and from there to Sirion, and so on till I brought it here. I have not left Imladris since Elrond's sons were small. So, it has stayed here that long with me."

Mellolaes blinked at it. "Where are those other blades? His and his brothers?"

Erestor ... Curuteith ... shrugged as he dropped the blade into the flat of his empty hand. "I know not of his brothers' blades. They might have been buried with them as far as I know, or perhaps they got rid of them out of guilt after he was first captured ... or after they refused him entry to the fort along with Caranthir. Narkal had his with him, when he was captured by the orcs. I imagine they stripped him of his weapons ..."

Mellolaes flinched. "I'm sorry."

"I am not! I hope he and his brothers got great use from them against our foes right before they could use them no more."

Mellolaes gave a sad smile. "Why are you showing yours to me?"

Erestor bowed his head and closed his eyes. "I want you to understand no matter how my visit goes, you letting me know what happened to him, what truly happened to him, is a gift I could never have expected to receive, or hope to repay. This blade we made together was all I had left of him ... until your story. I know now he lives, and I can meet him again even without sailing. This knife is nothing to that."

He looked up with tears in his eyes to meet Mellolaes' now also wet gaze. "I hope ... after my journey, I will have so much more of him again than one trinket from the distant past. But even if I lose my life here in Arda seeking that ... I will consider it worthwhile to have learned the truth from you!"

What do you think?

God bless

ScribeofHeroes