Chapter Twenty
Like blossom the snow carpeted the grass softly, a dusting that settled finely on every surface. Imladris was not built for harsh winters, it could shut itself up and retreat to the fireside but it was an open place, long colonnades and too many balconies instead of insulated corridors. In the shelter of the valley the snow never formed drifts; many winters had passed them by almost unnoticed.
Erestor noted each flurry, watching as the snowflakes drifted past his window to collect on the balcony and coat the apple tree. The snow barely covered the ground, giving it a threadbare look and only the stone work was idyllic in its frosty cloak. There was no wind to turn it into childish swirls, each flake falling exactly where its predecessor had landed. It would be a different story in the mountains. For the guard the snow would be heavy, great sheets pelting their faces as their feet were dragged out from under them. The wind would tear at their cloaks and soak them as their bodies melted what stuck to them. They would be forced to climb over drifts, leading frozen horses down lethal slopes.
He knew the cold, it was his childhood companion, it walked with all of those who had crossed the ice and no fire could lift it from their memories save that of revenge. Ice and fire had shaped the first adult thoughts he recalled, before that a hazy light that was half an infant's dream half a long vanished reality. Fin would know the cold too, he would remember the sorry marching songs they had tried to muster up before lapsing into silence. Somewhere, far to the east, Oropher would still remember the chill of the sunless day when darkness crashed down and stole their world from them.
The guard had not returned. Every second the snow fell stretched out for eternity yet passed all too quickly so that before he knew it two days had passed and still no one returned.
"Elrond," he said quietly as he heard the gentle footsteps come up to his door. He did not need to ask if there had been a rider, he would have seen any that had come.
"I must ask you a question, Mellon nîn," murmured Elrond. All without either of them taking their eyes from the road he sat down at the chair Erestor pushed out for him. "I admitted Glorfindel on your word alone, it is time you told me who he is to you." Curiosity at the time was understandable, to be expected and Erestor had headed it off when Glorfindel first arrived. Now, Elrond had a new reason for asking.
"Has he not proven himself many times over? With the power he showed over the river could he not have wreaked what havoc he wished long before now?" Elrond place a calming hand on his elbow and Erestor sighed somewhat ruefully, noting that rise in tension in his voice.
"I do not doubt him, not now if I ever did. I have seen-" Elrond trailed off just as he caught Erestor's full attention.
"What have you seen?" he asked, turning to his friend. "Elrond?" A troubled frown sat heavily on the Peredhel's brow and for a long time he did not answer. Erestor sighed.
"We were close, in Gondolin," he told Elrond quietly. "Even that is not the correct term. I loved him. It was as if my soul was ripped away from me when he fell into the fire, I had lost so much that day, he was all I had left then they took him as well." He straightened his shoulders, aware that whilst talking he had folded in on himself. Elrond looked thoughtful rather than consoling.
"And now you look for his return again," he murmured.
"Second chances never come in this world, Elrond, for them we must wait or go west to seek them out." He was not ready to admit anything to Glorfindel just yet, when he still looked at the blond elf in surprise, amazed that such a miracle was possible. It was not through confusion that he looked away more quickly than he liked, it was fear. A deep rooted and in his mind perfectly rational fear of losing that which has once been taken from him.
"What have you seen?" Worry clawed at his stomach a beast he had swallowed that was now fighting for its freedom. Elrond's gift of foresight had an unnerving accuracy that demanded to be heeded, all whilst being as imprecise as a drunken arrow.
"A battle, where or why I cannot say." It seemed all the Peredhel saw were battles and death and they wore down his strength, the gift becoming a curse as he saw the darker times ahead without being able to walk freely in what sunlight they had left.
"We will be ready," Erestor said firmly. They had done nothing but prepare for the war they knew was coming even as they fought the existing one.
"Erestor!" Elrond jumped up, both of them turning to the window for a split second. Two scouts, one the valley guard and one in soiled armour had ridden in. Almost as one they rushed down to the courtyard, meeting the two scouts as they came up the steps.
"The company are returning," one of the scouts said. "There is a rear guard under the command of Glorfindel and the archers, the peloton is an hour behind us with many wounded." Elrond immediately turned towards the grooms standing ready.
"Prepare to ride out," he called to the chief healer. "Erestor, ready the infirmary." Elrond would ride out to meet and possibly save the guard riding towards them, offering them protection as they neared the valley whilst Erestor arranged the House to allow the wounded to be treated as quickly as possible. Glorfindel's leading of the rear guard did not surprise him, he only wished he could shake off the cloud that descended on his thoughts as he cleared the Hall of any errant elves, easily finding them tasks or simply telling them to get out of the way.
"My lords-" the scout continued just as they had turned away. "Captain Maethor is dead." The world seemed to fall away somewhat at that, the bustling courtyard froze and Erestor blinked.
"Who leads the peloton?" Elrond asked quietly.
"Isowen." Erestor flicked through a mental list of candidates and sucked in a breath. Cûinath would be leading her archers with Glorfindel in the rear guard, which left Hesten unaccounted for. Isowen was far down the ranks, too far to merit leadership.
"Grieve later," Elrond told him. "Open up the second wing." Erestor left the courtyard, blinking heavily. Maethor had never been a friend, he was the closest to a political rival Erestor could have had in such a small settlement.
"Open up the second wing," he ordered as he entered the infirmary, watching the healers scatter about their duties like well-ordered hens.
The scout found him whilst he was counting out rolls of bandages to be put out.
"They are here," she told him, her face pale. She had someone in the guard, someone she was waiting for as well. He summoned what confidence he could. With Isowen leading the peloton he had little need to worry for her, which relieved him somewhat. It also allowed his entire mind to focus on her brother who was still far behind in the mountains.
The healers had lined themselves up, almost in ranks and began to carry in the wounded straight from the horses that had carried them. Erestor had summoned the grooms as well who cleared the courtyard as more horses arrived. Sweat, blood and the stench of orc wafted through the courtyard.
"Erestor!" Isowen came up the steps, a prone figure in her arms. Erestor took a hold of their head, recognising Hesten's face beneath his hands. They were only one group among many who carried the wounded towards the infirmary.
The supper hall was quiet, mostly filled only with the guards who had returned unscathed and those who had no intention of letting them out of their sight. He was half glad to have missed the rush to extract a list of confirmed dead that would have taken place as soon as the peloton arrived. He had no appetite, it was only habit that made him wander into the dining hall at all. The groups he would have once sat with were diminished and quiet, or in some cases non-existent.
They were waiting and there was nothing he could do. He gave Elrond fresh bandages, carried water and made lists yet there was nothing he could do to bring the rear guard home.
"Sit," Nairn said wearily. He had retreated from the empty hall to his office only to find it occupied by the unofficial scout posted at his window. An hour of his pacing had worn even Nairn's patience thin.
"Is this to become a routine?" she asked him.
"Half of the guard getting waylaid in the hills? I hope not."
"You going out of your mind every time he leaves." Erestor stopped dead on his way to the chair. "There is no point in denying it." He stared at the papers on his desk, feeling the red warmth of embarrassment creep up his neck. It seemed Pengolodh never ceased to speak the truth and any sentiments he indulged served no purpose but to let him make a fool out of himself. Nairn's boots padded softly over to him and her face slowly dropped into view as she crouched down.
"He will come back, is that not the whole point?" Her smile jumped across to him and he lifted his head ever so slightly.
"You are over simplifying," he told her gently.
"And you over-complicate. Symmetry at its finest." She perched on the desk so that she hid the window from him and he had to look up to speak to her, seeing her satisfied smile from underneath.
"Does he know?" Erestor gave her a rebuking look at that.
"Do you think I would say anything?"
"You should learn to speak, Mellon nîn, there is no use in having friends if you lie to them." He turned his head to her sharply at that, seeing the hurt for the first time. Isowen and he had been less than open about their origins and now he saw that Nairn was not unaffected by that.
"We lost our protection when Idril left, far better to be of the house that was welcomed by Thingol than Fingolfin's folk."
"Pengolodh never hid," she murmured.
"Pengolodh was braver than I could ever be." And gave him the name Erestor, follower, for a reason. "It is easier not to have a tale to tell than have a past your friends skirt around." Nairn shook her head almost violently.
"Not if they then find that all these years they have been hurting you!" Her voice mellowed as she sighed. "We look back and see how many times you turned away from us, how many stories and songs must have hurt you. We did not know therefore we had no decorum. We never meant to hurt you." He managed a thin smile as her hand rested on his shoulder. Gently he took it.
"No reminder is as painful as the burn." They lapsed into silence, Nairn giving in to curiosity and swivelling around so that they could both look out.
"You are aware that he glows," she murmured after a while. "Is he aware of this?"
"I have told him, he appears to be in denial." It was a strain, to be light-hearted when the snow piled up on the tree and still the courtyard was empty.
"Erestor?" Isowen appeared at the door, her hair loose around her face as if she had just woken up. Without another word she sat by the fire place, silently building it up until it gave off a cheery light.
"A scout!" Nairn called, jumping up in a hurry, knocking over the neat piles of papers as she did so. She let Erestor stand at the glass, looking over his shoulder as Isowen butted in for a glance. Elrond was still busy with the wounded, it fell to him to find out what had become of the rear guard.