Why hello there gentle readers. I am sick. So today, I sit on this couch, watch CSI reruns and type out this chapter for you. WARNING. ERESTOR IS GOING TO ENGAGE IN SAD THINGS. Get. yourselves. safe. k. SAFETY. Message me if needed OK. I have some of my own ideas of allies for Rivendell, so if they're made up I apologize. Also, I am making some characters up that may possibly have come from other Fanfictions, and if I accidentally stole your name or what have you I am so so so so so sorry, I've read SO MANY fanfics, that sometimes those random fringe characters get mixed up. Please tell me if I'm stealing or if you've read them before...LET ME KNOW because it's honestly not intentional. I own nothing. 'cept that dog I keep talkin' 'bout...Tolkien owns elves. Huzzah. ELROND ADMITS HIS FEELINGS! (in a rather out of character fashion..) *gasp* ENJOY
It was during the breakfast hour when Elrond heard Erestor nter his office setting down his books and tea, sorting out new reports and letters. Once his things were neatly in place, Elrond could count out the six seconds it took his best friend to get to his own office door, and he heard the customary four knocks that asked for entrance to begin the day.
"Enter " the elf lord called out, eager to see his councillor and to question him alone.
"Good morning my lord" Erestor called out respectfully, giving a cursory bow before he took his customary seat across from the half elf.
Elrond appraised him with careful trained eyes and something snapped within him. He felt suddenly as if he had never seen Erestor in real light before. His long dark hair was brushed back and tightly braided out of his eyes to hang down his back-his hair was fairly short in comparison to his own, cut to just below his shoulders.
His face was as pale as ever, his brown eyes-so often sharp with clarity and un-ending knowledge were a little dull.
Now that Elrond actually took the time to truly appraise his councillor he noted the heavy greyish-blue bags that hung low under his eyes. Surrounding the once sharp colour of his eyes was a deep and extensive web of red, his eyes were so bloodshot if it had been anyone else Elrond would have questioned their sobriety-and for the first time he wondered how long Erestor had gone without sleep.
His dark lips were chapped ever so slightly and his cheeks were sallow, sunken in. Erestor was very thin and again, if it had been anyone else Elrond would have thought he was very ill.
"My lord?" Erestor's lips were moving and at long last his gentle voice broke through.
"Yes Erestor, please forgive me. What were you saying?" He asked gently.
"I was just telling you that I have letters for you-two from Lord Celeborn, one from the lord of the woodland peoples near Bree. One from the Steward of Gondor and one from a small village on the western border of the mark" he explained, sliding the letters onto Elrond's desk –read and summarized with important parts highlighted in various different colours.
"Ah thank-you" he said, glancing at them-everything was so different this morning. And he had no idea where the change had come from. Regardless of where the change had come from, it pervaded everything in his morning.
Instead of seeing the hard work his councillor had done, he saw the councillor himself within the work. Every stroke of the pen was as if Erestor was speaking to him-he could see when he had blotted something on the page, when he had given pause, when he had to refill his pen, when he had been angry or exasperated about something, or someone.
Brushing a strand of hair behind one pointed ear he looked up and blinked with a nod "I will look them over much more carefully later, as I am sure you have more for me to do in that little pile of yours" Elrond teased with a soft smile.
Watching his face Elrond began to feel as if something of an other worldly nature had taken over his body. Because his 'new' eyes saw a pained flash in Erestor's eyes, he saw an exhausted, forced smile take the dark lips and Erestor's nod held no energy. He placed a small sheaf of papers on his desk and Elrond once again, forced himself to pay full attention.
"Yes. A few requests for food and supplies from small outlying villages-and a request from a settlement on the otherside of the Bruinen-apparently a rogue pack of wolves have banded together with a small group of Goblins and thinking they are the next great warg riders, they have crept ever closer to their borders, the lord there is concerned that they will be overrun, which of course holds large consequences for us. The matter is not threatening yet, but they require extra men to bring them down before the threat is real" Erestor said putting the most important document on the top.
Elrond's brows knit together and he felt a brief spasm of relief –in spite of the worrisome situation- that his mind seemed to at least be back to some semblance of normality. "I truly hope this pact between goblins and wolves does not become a trend" Elrond commented, the worry was only in the back of his voice as he was quite confident that Glorfindel would address the matter appropriately.
Erestor inclined his head in momentary agreement and Elrond almost flinched, as he perceived something in Erestor-a soft sigh of relief. Apparently he was aware to some degree of Elrond's acute scrutiny up to now, and was also quite relieved when the conversation had returned to the way that it ought to be.
The anger and worry that had been with the half elf for most of the morning had dissipated almost completely now and where he had before been quite eager to question Erestor further about Estel and last night-now he just wanted to send his councillor back to bed, but since he knew he couldn't he felt Erestor at least deserved the comfort of his own office and the solace of his own company-where Erestor was quite obviously happiest.
"Is there anything else?" The lord asked quietly, eyes already turning to one of the letters, determined to try and move past this strange bout of psychic empathy.
"Not as of now" Erestor replied, breathing another half sigh of relief-apparently Elrond had nothing to say on the matter of last night.
"Thank you then, Erestor" Elrond said with a warm but distant smile and a friendly but dismissive wave.
Erestor managed a smile and left the office, feeling very confused and a little surprised that he was a little disappointed that Elrond didn't notice.
He pulled the door between their offices closed and sat very slowly in his chair. He clamped his eyes shut and felt the slow black ilk of his sheer disgusting unworthiness creep slowly up his body, spreading through his veins, he cleared his throat quietly, desperate to rid himself of the tears that threatened to fall. "Stop. Enough." He hissed quietly. Glancing quickly at his letter opener, he reached out and trailed icy fingertips over the colder blade. Slowly upwards, in a darkly sensual dance he caressed the soft decorative curve of the simple black and red handle. A moment later, and three deep slashes in his left arm and he felt the blackness inside him freeze cold in its tracks. He straightened himself in his seat, reared his chin and set to work with a new and angry vengeance.
As the day went on Elrond began to feel better, as if everything was going back to normal. Erestor came in and out of his office, Estel came to Erestor for lessons and they went on as they always did. The older two gallivanted around causing trouble and being general nuisances-as they always were.
Glorfindel reported to him at lunch that no-one he had talked to knew of any injury Estel might have sustained, and as Estel moved through the day apparently unaffected by anything, Elrond didn't care.
Elrond had spent most of his morning greeting people as they arrived, talking with dignitaries and hearing of their kingdoms, worlds, or people. Celeborn and Galadriel were happily among those who had arrived and Elrond spent a great deal of time in discussion and reminiscence with him.
So, with everyone greeted and settled in for rest and friendly visiting he finally set to work on his desk. He made it through the letters and set to work, making notes in his own hand-noting passively that he could always rely on Erestor to make his notes in a blue or red ink, because he himself always used black. He acknowledged and signed off on one request for Erestor to draft the final agreement for. Then he questioned the second for further discussion, he was considering the third one, smooth healing fingers stroking idly down the page, when he felt three small lumps near the bottom. A small series, they were all lined up in a row. Out of curiosity he looked down and removed his fingers to see.
His heart froze and he felt an electrical surge all through his body. 3 small round drops of blood, lined up in a row, at the very bottom of Erestor's summary page. The edges of the dots were sort of scalloped, with little fingers stretching from the centre of each drop. Whoever was bleeding had been standing over top of the paper as the blood fell.
He traced each small drop with the very tip of his finger, worrying at the inside of his cheek, his eyes grew out of focus as he drifted into thought and the pieces came together.
Estel had gotten blood on him when he and Erestor had been together. And since the little boy had no conceivable wounds that anyone could detect, it was fair to jump to the conclusion that the blood had come from another source...but Erestor?
That coupled with the way that Erestor had been effecting him that morning, it hadn't been worry for Estel, or his undue affection for his beautiful councillor. It had been a deep and clarion call to the healer inside of him. Erestor was in pain and needed help.
But it brought it again, to the blood. That was the part that eluded Elrond. There was a lot of blood on that handkerchief- a disproportionate amount for something like a paper cut, or a gouge from a too sharp quill.
He knit his brows together and gave up on any more work on his desk, in an attempt to solve the new problem at hand.
He started on the problem by mulling over everything he knew about Erestor. He considered Erestor to be his finest friend in the world. Erestor was old, but he really did not know exactly how old. The councillor had no family or friends from his past, no one who celebrated his begetting day, and beyond that he himself didn't set aside any particular day that might indicate it was a special day to Erestor.
Elrond knew vaguely about his background and how highly the councillor had come recommended by Galadriel. He knew that Erestor was sharply intelligent, wickedly capable and extremely competent.
He excelled on his own, delegating tasks to and from his underlings. He found real enjoyment in paperwork, he efficiently without complaint and delay planned feasts, festivals and councils. Which seemed to be his ultimate forte. His silver tongue danced circles around all and everyone. People rarely dared to challenge him.
Outside of the council chambers Erestor never chose to use his considerable skills. Elrond knew from being married, from having children and from his own youth that someone as impressive as Erestor could select from a very large group of beautiful women, or even men, but Elrond didn't even know which Erestor preferred.
The councillor didn't dress himself to attract any sort of attention whatsoever. Celebrian had offered Erestor a few beautiful robes in various colours which would only serve to enhance his features and natural colouring. And while Erestor had been unendingly grateful-he never wore them.
Erestor chose black. Not slimming silhouetting black robes, but large and billowing, they did succeed in making him appear taller and broader from a distance or from across the council chamber, but did nothing to flatter his figure-which Elrond abashedly realized he didn't even know what sort of figure that was, exactly.
He began to realize in that moment that in spite of his deep and growing lust and affection for his chief councillor, he apparently knew nothing, absolutely nothing about Erestor whatsoever.
In the midst of his musings on his councillor he heard a knock on the door, looking up he felt an odd rush of guilt as that very elf appeared in his doorway.
"Erestor" Elrond said suddenly, blinking twice and inwardly cursing himself as he felt a soft, guilty blush rise up his high cheek bones and a lump formed in his throat as his grey eyes swept over the over draped, exhausted looking figure that stood there.
"My lord?" Erestor asked, he himself feeling badly as if he had done something wrong.
"Yes, Erestor? What can I do for you?" he asked lightly, trying to put a more natural tone in his voice.
"I was just wondering if you had had a chance to get through any of the reports or things I left you this morning?" the councillor asked quietly.
Elrond's guilt increased as he looked at his desk "Well, there have been so many visitors arriving today" he trailed off with the guilty grin that took his features whenever he wandered from his duties enough to not get it done.
Erestor rolled his eyes and the easy feeling they had so long cultivated between them pushed its way back to the surface, making things seem for both of them, a little more normal-at least on the surface.
"So you have done?" Erestor trailed off, questioningly.
"2 letters" Elrond replied with a cheeky grin.
"For crying out loud Elrond! Am I supposed to run this city by myself?" Erestor said with a friendly chiding tone.
"Well! I think we should take some time off for the next three days" Elrond said slowly, feeling a soft twinge of guilt, compassion and worry as he saw a brief glimmer of terror and indecision in Erestor's eyes. And he backpedalled desperately.
"As much as we can at least, with everyone arriving at different times it is extremely disruptive to me. Particularly because now much more important leaders are arriving, as well as close personal friends..." he began, feeling that instead of mandating and dictating as a lord, he needed to convince and cajole him as a friend and would-be lover.
"And with Silinde here, certainly you have more to occupy your time then paperwork" Elrond continued in a quiet, gentle tone.
Erestor inclined his head and gulped lightly. "True enough. And with people coming in so quickly it will be easier to face the upcoming council meetings if I gather all the paperwork and everything together all at once as well as the fact that I have people to room, feed, and see to the needs of. Perhaps if I did not have to be in my office all day it would be a little more helpful" Erestor said in a quiet, defeated tone of agreement.
Elrond looked at him and smiled gently, reaching across the desk he grasped Erestor's shoulder "and you might just consider having a little fun between now and then" he said, though he felt tears building in his eyes as he realized that under the layers of fabric was nothing but a jagged bone.
Erestor nodded his head and pulled his body gently away from Elrond, as he stood up and slid neatly back into his office.
As he sunk into his chair looking at his hands, he wondered what it was that was making Elrond act so oddly, the lord was looking at him as if he was ...broken? Yet the other man said nothing. Was it pity? He couldn't deal with pity, it would be too much, he began to shake ever so slightly as he recalled every word that Elrond had said-and shuddered whole heartedly at the knowledge that Silinde-Lord Celeborn's chief councillor was on the grounds.
The two chief councillor's had always gotten along, but whenever someone elses councillor was there Erestor felt like he was even more in hiding then he usually was around his own people. As a chief councillor, someone who had the very same job as he did, it would be easier for them to see the black tar in his veins.
He felt the thickness start to creep up him and he shook his head, frantic for it to be gone, he ground his heel into the floor, keeping his head up as straight as he could, the door wasn't closed between their offices, he couldn't risk stabbing it away right now, but he couldn't seem to get control over himself enough to cause it to stop.
Gulping thickly he pulled his chair back up to his desk and bit his bottom lip, staring off out the window he took a long, deep breath trying to repress the sticky poison that crept ever closer to his mind.
He took long, deep, calming breaths and his eyes flew all around the room, at last his eyes settled fully and completely once more on his only hope for redemption. The letter opener that sat innocently on his desk at all times. With shaking fingertips he reached out to touch it, maybe just touching it would be enough.
He touched it for a long moment, letting the tip of his finger drag along the blade ever so slightly not hard enough to cut, but hard enough to be assured of its sharpness. He sighed heavily and sat back in his seat, defeated.
He couldn't do it, even if he wanted to of course-but he couldn't, which meant he would be taken to the dark place, taken immediately by the sullied filth that ran through ihs veins.
After a sallow, bitter moment of self pity he sat up and set to the minute amount of work on his desk top, the dark cloud rose in his mind and his writing got straighter and darker, more rigid and severe.
While part of his mind got clearer and more direct, focussed entirely on his work, making certain that it was good enough in spite of his inherent incapability. The larger part of his mind however, descended to the black, to the dark place, and he began to review in more detail how the day had gone. Inevitably...the voice started, the voice that reminded him what exactly, he was.
'You foolish creature. You should have hid better from the boy-he is a ranger not some moronic child, he certainly isn't you. I'm not surprised that you couldn't hide it, your disgusting stupid ilk wouldn't notice if a simple tree uprooted and walked in here. Too weak to handle your emotions on your own, you screw up and get caught intentionally, in desperation that someone else will notice-perhaps so they will understand and help you. But you are nothing but an imperfect, disgusting, twisted creature why would anyone want to help you? Beyond your twisted, distorted emotional state look at how you work! You have no ability to focus on more than one thing at a time. You work so terribly that your own Lord wants nothing to do with you. And now! he wants you to spend time with Silinde, in desperate hopes that eventually you might be able to do something of worth. You are nothing but an over rated scribe, a rundown school teacher. Elrond recognizes it, you are nothing but a well used quill to him, over used, a complete eyesore, your tip is ground down to nothing, your feather is threadbare and stiff, but you are too comfortable and pathetic to throw away'.
The voice nattered onwards in his head, speaking to him the things he had long believed to be the truths about himself. It wouldn't stop as he hammered out the last report and turned his attention to unnecessary notes on the final set of feasts and festivals upcoming in the next week-even though he already had everything in the world planned down to the last emergency contingency plan. The voice never stopped-it never did, it moved on after the first ten mintues from its original material, and began to draw upon the things that he had done over his entire miserable life, all the things that had created the horrendousness that was him today.
The first time he had ripped his clothing in his youth, the first time he had disrupted his father, the first time he had angered his mother, the first time he had made a mistake in class, the first time that he had made a mess of his office, the first time he had attempted a date-all of these had proved to him once that he was unworthy of anything, especially love.
Over the years he had done his best to freeze himself completely on that day-and though he had worked endlessly to keep himself frozen-and when anything in him unfroze ever so briefly-the black tar oozed through, threatening to infect everyone around him, everything he cared about. Any moment that he unfroze ever so slightly the silence gripped him and he fully realized what kind of a thing, a beast, a creature he truly was. The only thing that could ever break through the thick black bubble was the blood. His blood. Shedding his own blood served three purposes.
The first was that it showed him, imprisoned (though the dark voice reminded him it wasn'[t a prison, but his proper place in life) behind his bubble that his physical matter was not black poison, that at some level he was a living elf, somewhere, somehow. The second purpose was that he could punish himself, show the dark voice that he was extremely sorry. That he knew how very unworthy a creature he truly was. The third and final purpose, was really more of an off shoot of the second-once the voice saw his self punishment, saw how much he was trying to rectify the mistakes of his condition, and once it did the voice would leave him alone, at least for a time.
When he couldn't bleed, for whatever reason-he was in council, or Elrond was overly present, that black bubble grew larger forming a silent barrier, a mechanism that defended him from any sort of discovery, punishment allowed him to be calm, but when he couldn't bleed the silence meant that no one would see inside him. He became an austere and silent statue. No one would ever know, no one would be able to see his flaws. Of course it came with the drawback of not being able to feel anything at all.
His reports and paperwork were long finished and he still sat there, he glanced down at this hands and wondered why they seemed so far away. He screwed up his face and forced on of his heavy as lead hand up to his face to feel for the change. He was aware of the change, aware of his cold fingers on his cheeks and lips, but it didn't feel real to him.
This was most definitely the worst place to be-when all his body felt heavy and far away-none of it felt real, nothing in the world felt real. He dropped his hands to his lap and flinched at the sound in the tomb like silence of his head. His eyes glanced desperately towards the letter opener again-the only thing in the room that seemed real and whole. The letter opener could pierce the bubble and bring him back to reality. He watched his hands creep across the desk seemingly of its own accord, long ink stained fingers going for the handle with a need and a desire that encompassed everything in his soul. Then he was distantly aware of some unidentifiable female voice.
Turning his head he appraised the speaker, to others this stare had been labelled the cold and condescending look of Councillor Erestor. To Erestor it was because he was seeing life through a long, dark, inescapable tunnel. The person was a room attendant, with a story of something being wrong with one rooming section that he had originally picked out for arriving dignitaries. "We need four more rooms My Lord" she muttered nervously, afraid of his sharp tongue.
"Very well" Erestor replied, turning slowly in his chair, distantly aware of his icy fingers catching his rooming plan and inventory folder and he stood to his feet, whisking down the hallway with the attendant in tow. Erestor felt as if he was moving through mud, or even solid stone, to the attendant however it was stark and mechanical, as if she had interrupted his day. Erestor saw her frightened look and felt her desperation to keep p with his steps, but he resigned himself to that perception-it was too dark and difficult to fight against.
Elrond, after dismissing his miserable councillor, sat alone in his office for a while before he got up and went to join his family in the smaller garden outside.
Galadriel was laughing, smiling, and playing with Estel on the span of lawn, hemmed in by fruit trees and rose bushes.
Celeborn sat with Elladan and Elrohir discussing battle strategies, rangers, orcs, old wars, everything the boys found fascinating that they could share with their Grandfather.
Elrond sat with Arwen under the trees catching up with his beloved daughter, simply enjoying the time with his family. "I have missed Imladris" Arwen was saying, "But I do not think I am yet ready to stay" she admitted softly.
"I know, and that is alright my darling, I and your brothers miss you truly, but you must be well in your own right before you can submit to our whims." Elrond said lovingly.
"And what of you Ada? I know you are lonely-mother would want you to be happy...and I know that look in your eyes, I know you see something that which you desire greatly" she said, mimicking her grandmother ever so slightly.
He laughed and stroked her face "I am happy enough my darling, and I will not deny that my eyes have been drawn to someone as of late, but I am still struggling with the problem of how to attract the attention, or in the very least transmit my interest" he said with a shrug of shoulders.
Arwen laughed lightly and piled her long dark hair over one shoulder, "well whenever you are ready Ada, the proper way will come to you" she said with a warm smile.
He nodded his head and their conversation moved to other things, they talked of Loth Lorien and the sure beauty of the coming season. When all of a sudden a great cry rose from the other side of the lawn.
All heads turned to the sound of the cries and Elrond was on his feet-those were cries of genuine pain, already being coaxed to silent by caring grandmotherly hands, he arrived seconds after Estel's tears were stopped up by Galadriel pressing a handkerchief to little Estel's leg. "It is nothing, Ada you worry too much" the elf lady said with a twinkle in her all knowing eyes.
"Nothing but a scratch I assure you" she said, pulling the handkerchief away so that Elrond could see how little the wound truly was. But Elrond was not looking at the small, insignificant scratch on the little boys leg.
His grey eyes were riveted on the handkerchief that Galadriel held in her hand, one small blotted line of blood lay there. In a neat, un-smudged row. As he nodded his head distractedly, she pressed the handkerchief back to Estel's leg, cooing comforting words to the sniffling mortal. When she pulled it away the bleeding had basically stopped and Elrond saw another single blotted line, slightly below the first, another neat un-smudged line. "You will be fine Estel" his father said distractedly, and with only cursory words to Arwen about leaving something in his office he all but ran back down the hall.
He took the corner towards his office at a ridiculous pace, when seeing no one was in that hall he actually took off running, without bothering to knock or call out a warning he grasped the handle to Erestor's office door, turned it, shouldered the heavy, ornate thing open and stopped dead in his tracks.
Erestor sat at his desk, back half way to his once closed door. His right arm was sleeveless, held out over the floor, from his position, Elrond could see blood running down his pinky finger, dripping down to the small pool already on the floor. Crystalline tears formed two steady tracks down the councillor's pale cheeks, splashing steadily on the front of his baggy black robes. His left hand weakly grasped his simple letter opener, it was stained with blood and poised to cut again. Without moving, Elrond stood there, hair half in his face, breathing slightly more heavily then was necessary, shock flew over his spine and tingled down his whole body. "Erestor...what are you doing?" he asked, in a soft, pained voice.