To Lose Hope, is To Give Up

A/N: As always many thanks to my beta Erulisse.

Chapter 10: return to normal?

Five days later most of the debris had been cleared away and nearly all of the inhabitants had returned to their restored rooms. Items from the burned interior were brought outside and inspected to determine if they could be reused. Many items could be cleaned and renewed, others were lost forever.

The greatest damage was in the kitchen area. These rooms were undoubtly where the fire had started and were completely destroyed. Lives in Rivendell slowly returned to normal, or so it seemed.

Glorfindel and Erestor sat in silence in Elrond’s study, trying desperately to wear down the mountain of paperwork piled high at the desk. Both elves worked efficiently but wondered inwardly how the Elf-Lord managed this day-by-day on his own. Glorfindel hated sitting here. He felt he was betraying his friend with every paper he reviewed. Looking into Erestor´s face, he saw that his friend was fighting a similar internal battle. Nonetheless, it could not be helped; the work had to be done.

Looking up when the door opened, Glorfindel smiled at Celebrían who was entering holding a tray with hot steaming teacups. It was just the break he needed right now. However, when he looked again at his Lady, his face sobered. Despite her smile, she looked pale and appeared frail. The worry for her husband was draining her and seeing the two elves sitting here in his study didn’t help her mood either.

“Thank you. Will you stay with us?" he asked as he took the tray from her with a grateful smile.

“No thank you,” she answered. “…You know… Elladan…. I can’t leave him for long.” Glorfindel nodded and without another word she turned and left. Erestor closed the door behind her.

While sipping his tea Glorfindel looked at the dark haired councillor sitting opposite him, but Erestor was again lost in thought and was not aware of the gaze. Returning his focus to the papers, he contemplated what Celebrían had just said. Something was wrong with the child. He had been ill for the last three days. It was extremely rare for elves to become ill and even the healers could not discover the underlying reason for the child’s sickness. He did not eat, had a slight fever and was unsteady on his feet.

His brother fared little better and Glorfindel doubted that it was only the trauma of the fire catching up with them. They had been shielded from the drama which had befallen their father and the destruction the fire had caused. The elflings’ room had been restored first, and any necessary changes had been as small as possible.

The reason for their ailment had other possible sources of course. The boys missed their father and sensed the depression all around them. As young as they were, they felt clearly that the unnatural cheerfulness toward them was nothing more than a façade.

Two days ago they were allowed to see their still unconscious father, yet they couldn’t understand what had happened to him. They had only seen the unresponsive Elf-Lord and had thought him already dead. All attempts to convince them otherwise had failed. Glorfindel sighed, fearing that the children’s’ impressions might not be wrong. Elrond´s body was alive, yes, but his mind had retreated. He was like the dead; unreachable for the ones around him.

Glorfindel didn’t know how long he could endure this state, but what could he do? Should he beg the Lord of Mandos to complete his task, or perhaps he could beg the Valar to send Elrond back? But would he be restored as before?

…………………………………………………..

Later that day Glorfindel slipped into Elrond´s room. The healers had transferred him here, when his injuries had healed enough so that he did not require permanent attention. Centhar had hoped that the familiar surroundings would trigger a reaction. Until now his hopes had been in vain. Celebrían spent as much time as possible at her husband’s side, but was forced to leave often to look after her sons. Their condition did not worsen, but neither did it improve.

Glorfindel was relieved to find the room empty of other visitors. He briefly glanced at the bed, a habit that had become routine and then he turned toward the balcony door gazing towards the mountains. His thoughts ran in circles. What if…? What would become of the valley? What would happen to the rest of the little family without the Elf-Lord? What if…what if…what if…?

Sighing he knew that he was tormenting himself. He was someone used to acting. This suspended state made him crazy and the situation was becoming almost unbearable. He did not know how much longer they could go on like this.

After some time, he turned sighing and nearly tripped over a chair in shock, as two steel grey eyes looked back at him. He quickly regained his balance, the outer more easily than the inner and blinked not to succumb to an illusion or wishful thinking. Then he rushed to the bed overjoyed at the sight.

“Valar, Elrond,” he breathed, “You are awake!” Worry quickly replaced his relief as the Elf-Lord did not respond. He looked confusedly at the warrior, as if he did not understand what was said.

An icy hand grabbed at Glorfindel´s heart, as Centhar´s warning came back to him. ‘We fear that the lack of oxygen will do damage to the brain’. No! His mind screamed that this could not be. This was worse than death.

Fearing his legs would not support him any longer, he quickly sat on the edge of the mattress, taking the Elf-Lord’s hand in his. “Elrond…can you hear me, my friend?” he asked softly, quickly banishing all worry from his face. He gazed intently at the grey eyes.

“Glorfindel?” was the weak, but nonetheless clear reply. And with the reply the damage was done and the golden haired warrior could not hold back his tears any longer, knowing that Elrond had recognized him.

“Yes it’s me,” he choked. “Welcome back, my friend. You gave us quite a scare.”

Squeezing Glorfindel´s hand slightly Elrond tried a weak smile. “Not my intention,” he whispered.

Not trusting his voice Glorfindel only nodded, too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought.

They sat there simply looking at each other for several minutes. Finally, when Glorfindel was able to stand, he held a cup to Elrond’s parched lips, guiding him to drink.

Leaning back the dark haired elf nodded gratefully. “Thank you… so tired,” was all he could manage, before he closed his eyes again.

This time he would only sleep, Glorfindel thought, heaving a grateful sigh. Pulling the blanket up to his friend’s chin, he quickly left the room to find Centhar and inform Celebrían.

To be continued……………………..