Chapter Five

It was impossible, he told himself as the corridor passed him by. He made himself slow down to a more natural speed. The mirage that had appeared, the shining wraith that had walked in had turned his whole world on its head.

Glorfindel was dead. Erestor knew that. In the centuries of darkness and wandering the world alone that was one of a collection of solid facts that he had fallen back on. A list of names. His parents, his sister, Ecthelion and Glorfindel. Later others had added their names to the ever growing list but it was the same. The pillars that had been his life in Gondolin, the lights that were all he remembered, were dead. With the exception of his sister, Erestor had seen them all fall. Glorfindel last of all, and the only one they had had time to bury.

Glorfindel was dead. Yet there he was, speaking, smiling, holding Isowen as if he had done nothing more than disappear for a few years. To Erestor's mind it made sense, the Valar had the power to reunite spirits with their bodies, it would only take a ship to bear someone back to Middle Earth. It was his heart that did not want to believe that the golden figure in the council chambers was real. Glorfindel had died, Erestor had seen him die every night in his dreams. They had finally stopped, less than a month ago and he had believed the trauma behind him.

Yet he wanted it to be true. To have the golden elf returned to him after so long apart. More than that, he wanted hope. If Glorfindel was sent back, could Ecthelion or his family follow? Erestor had not felt as if one elf had walked in, brilliant with a spirit inside him the likes of which he could dimly remember from another realm, but as if his whole city had suddenly returned, all the memories and grief flooding back at once.

He found Nairn standing in the Hall of Fire, Laiken talking with her. He did not need to try hard to guess their topic of conversation.

"Is it truly him?" Nairn asked quietly.

"Find an empty set of rooms." Erestor found it easier to order his deputy around than answer difficult questions. It was Glorfindel, he knew that, and by the sheer radiance of his being it was clear that the elf had been in the presence of something more than Middle Earth. Nairn nodded and she was gone, ever perfect in her duties. Erestor did not even need to specify that Glorfindel was to be given more than just a guest room.

"You are not pleased, mellon nin?" Elrond asked him once Erestor had returned to the now devoid of golden lords council chamber. "Erestor?"

"I buried him, Elrond. Isowen and I, we built a cairn over his body. Forgive me, but I do not know if I am pleased or not." He turned away from the look of sympathy or pity on Elrond's face. "Are there arrangements I should be aware of?" Simple matters, rooms, rotas, that was what he needed. To occupy himself so that his subconscious had time to think and process the apparition.

"Just a room. He is to become one of the guards, he refused a higher position. Will that be- too close?"

"It will be just fine, Elrond. If that is what you deem appropriate. Of course, you must be sure he is telling you the truth." Elrond smiled at him.

"Really, Erestor? It is him, you know that better than I."

"Perhaps, but people do not come back!" He had dropped the papers he had been gathering carefully. "Tell me, if you saw Galdor of Gondolin or another lord who perished at Sirion, what would you do?"

"I would smile and be grateful I could see a friend again," answered Elrond. "Erestor, is there aught else I should know?" Erestor shook his head. There was nothing else Elrond needed to know, nothing relevant. Of course, Erestor had never, could never forget the night Gondolin fell. The evening before was also etched firmly into his mind and it haunted him as well. "Erestor?" He had been staring into space, he realised.

"If you will excuse me, Mellon nin. Cutting meetings in half creates more work immediately after." He tried to give Elrond a smile but it fell short and he left.

As he sat himself back down in his office, surrounded by inanimate papers rather than shockingly animate people, he sighed. He had managed to protect Isowen since their city fell, well enough he thought. She would be happy to have her brother back, but Erestor was worried if it was not another threat. To have someone back only to lose them again. Erestor stared down at the page blankly, the runes making little sense to him, words that stood out but refused to turn into sentences. He gave up and clamped his eyes shut at the force of the memories. First the torches had come over the hills, then ordered panic as they prepared for battle. The torches soon turned to flames and just as they thought they were free, Glorfindel was snatched from him down into the darkness with the monstrosity of flame whose brother had slain Ecthelion. Glorfindel's beautiful face had never changed, still younger than it should be and hiding a smile just underneath. He looked wiser now, somehow, but if he closed his eyes Erestor would easily mistake him for the broken body that had been borne up from the abyss, for there had been no sign of death on his face, only its angle to his body.

Glorfindel, he knew, had never been dead to him. For centuries he had followed him in his dreams, looking over his shoulder along with his family and Ecthelion. Isowen had buried him, as much as she could a brother but not Erestor. He found it impossible to let go.