Chapter 8: words we never wanted to utter

Silently opening the door, Elrond entered the room his Troop Commander had been transferred to. It was a special chamber for patients needing tranquillity yet who were not recovered enough to release them to their own rooms.

These rooms were arranged with more privacy but within the vicinity of the infirmary. Moreover, it was within quick reach of the healers should help be required.

The healer hovered a moment inside the door, but before he could determine if his patient was awake Glorfindel´s deep voice answered his question.

“I’m not asleep, Elrond. Please come closer.”

The Elf-lord raised an eyebrow. This he would have done, even without an invitation, and regardless if the warrior was asleep or awake; but it was not the words that surprised him, it was the tone. Gone were the cold steel in the voice and the contempt in the words. He could almost hear resignation, even pleading, and this was as alien to Glorfindel as his former behaviour was.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts Elrond stepped up next to the bed and observed the warrior closely. The wound in his side had healed to his satisfaction and the other injuries appeared only as red patches on the pale skin soon to be forgotten. Nonetheless, the warrior would be in a considerable amount of pain until all of the internal bleeding, ripped muscles and strained sinews had healed.

Yet the healer was determined to examine the wounds to the spirit, to judge the consequences of the trauma the fëa had suffered.

He would search the warrior’s mind without his permission if necessary to get the answers he searched for, but his Troop Commander surprised him a second time.

With a jerk Glorfindel turned his head and looked at his Lord with the piercing blue eyes they were all accustomed to. Elrond looked steadily back carefully guarding his thoughts. He would be wary, yet open enough to hear the other out.

Sensing his friend’s restraint instantly the warrior took a deep breath.

“Elrond,” he began while the healer took a seat. “I was not myself two days ago and I deeply regret what I said to you and the twins not to mention the words I spoke to Galaeron. I do not know what has come over me….no let me continue…” Glorfindel said quickly when the healer was about to interrupt.

“My thoughts are confused yet I do not have to tell you how grieved I am about the deaths of my men. Everyone is telling me that I am not to blame but I cannot stop blaming myself even if you tell me a thousand times otherwise. I cannot even think about going to Thalan’s widow and her little son, or to the other relatives left behind, and asking for their forgiveness. I was in charge of the patrol; I had the most experience, but those orcs outwitted us as if we were elflings. This is not easy to bear.”

When the warrior had ended, silence descended and the two elves looked at each other for a long time. Elrond was all too willing to forgive; if there was anything to forgive, and to help the warrior to cope with what had happened but the dark presence he had been confronted with twice still gnawed at his mind.

What if the warrior was still being controlled and was forced to tell him what he wanted to hear? Elrond sighed. How could he tell his most trusted friend that he doubted him? Glorfindel´s state of mind and body were too fragile and such a confrontation would do him no good.

Glorfindel might have been devastated but he was still as sharp-minded as ever and he instantly recognized the hesitation of his Lord. “Elrond,” he began anew never leaving the other’s gaze. “I can sympathize with your doubts and I know what is troubling you; but be assured I’m restored now and even if I will need time to come to terms with what has happened I will manage.”

The healer took a deep breath. Had he seen things that did not exist? Had he wronged his best friend? Elrond’s trust in his friend was absolute and had been earned by Glorfindel by hundreds of years of his loyal service.

“The Nazgûl no longer has power over me. He influenced my ability to protect my comrades but no longer.”

The Elf-lord’s head jerked up after he had briefly lowered them to control his emotions. He narrowed his eyes. He had been right! The presence he had felt was nothing other than a ring-wraith. If Glorfindel and his patrol had been directly attacked by this menace it was no wonder that no one escaped alive. Yet Glorfindel had survived; even if barely. Had the warrior managed to repel the evil in the end? He was after all born in Elvenhome and the light from Valinor shone in his eyes.

Seeing plainly that he still had not convinced his Lord, Glorfindel struggled to sit upright with a groan and grabbed the hands of the healer quickly and firmly. Before Elrond could even be surprised, he was carried away by his friend’s overwhelming presence dragging his fëa into a world the healer had experienced with other elves only a few times. Glorfindel opened his mind and released all restraints.

Elrond gasped, while still being held firmly, when the emotions, fears, hopes and memories of the warrior’s mind were laid bare before his inner eye. Glorfindel held nothing back and the healer nearly fainted before the intensity of the other’s fëa. He had a vague idea now why the elves born in Valinor still shone with the light Eru Ilúvatar had kindled in them. It was nothing compared to the elves born in Middle-earth.

When his first nausea had abated, Elrond carefully navigated through the elf’s mind and, to his utter relief, could detect nothing that was not Glorfindel. However, he treaded carefully, almost tentatively, trying not to intrude into parts even he was not allowed to see, nor did he want to.

As quickly as the journey had begun, it ended. Glorfindel slowly released his hold on the cold hands and closed his mind up again. Again, the two Elf-lord’s stared at each other; still reeling from what they had just experienced.

As happy as the healer was that his friend was not possessed by something dark, he was shocked at what it had done to the other’s soul. The devastation went deep, and the elf would have to find a way to forgive himself and forget, or rather to remove the incident from his conscious state, for the remainder of his life.

Glorfindel had seen much sorrow in his life and he would manage this also. Elrond was sure of that. But every wound to the soul would irreversibly change a part of this stunning elf.

Glorfindel smiled. He could nearly see the wheels turning in the Elf-lord’s head. Clearing his throat when he became aware of the scrutiny, Elrond rose. “Thank you, my friend. I was wrong to doubt you, please forgive me,” the healer said while grasping the other’s forearm lightly.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Glorfindel replied and sank back into his pillow. Satisfied that the warrior was resting now, Elrond turned and left the room quietly. With his back turned he could not see the strange smile on his Troop Commander’s face.

………………………………….

For the third time that night, Elrond was ripped from his slumber and he did not make another attempt to return to sleep. Briefly he searched the bond with his children, making sure that all three fared well and that they were not the cause for his restlessness.

He wondered what had caused him to feel this uneasy. He was at times disturbed by visions or dark images of the future, but this was nothing like those previous times. Threatening whispers hovered at the edge of his mind but at every attempt to grasp them they disappeared like smoke mocking him while vanishing.

Irritated he flung back his bedcover, rose, and donning a robe over his night clothes, finally abandoned all hope of rest for the remainder of the night.

He decided to take a stroll through the garden in the hope of finding peace for his mind. Maybe he would be able to detect what was troubling him.

Just as he was about to open the door to the corridor a knock came from the other side. He halted his hand, already hovering above the doorknob, in surprise. The first idea that came to his mind was that only one of his healers would disturb him at this late hour.

His heartbeat increased because the only patient at the moment apart from Glorfindel was an elfling who had broken his wrist while playing. The boy would hardly require his presence in the middle of the night.

With a furrowed brow, and realizing that he would not solve the question by just standing there, he opened the door with a determined jerk, surprising the visitor who had just raised his hand to knock a second time. He was looking into the face of his advisor, Erestor.

Erestor quickly lowered his fist. “I hope I’ve not woken you, my Lord, but I saw the light and wondered if you could spare a minute?”

The Elf-lord raised an eyebrow in surprise. Erestor had appeared in the same half-clad state he was himself and seemed equally unable to find rest.

“It’s an uncommon time to seek council, my friend,” he countered, gesturing the dark haired elf inside. The councillor made no remark at the comment, which was most unusual. He simply walked past his Lord with a curt nod and stopped in front of two comfortable chairs. Frowning Elrond closed the door while he observed the other’s rigid back.

“Sit down, Erestor,” he invited while stepping closer, “and tell me what I can do for you.”

Erestor sunk into the cushioned chair and waited until his Lord had also taken a seat. Seeing the questioning eyes he leaned forward. “I’m here to talk about Glorfindel. He’s acting extremely strange.”

Elrond sighed while leaning back. He had guessed as much. His reassurance that the warrior was slowly returning to himself had fled within seconds. Yet should they not give him more time? It was after all only a few days since the attack.

“Erestor,” he began, “we should just practise some more patience…” he stopped when Erestor rose from his chair and started pacing the room. After a few rounds he stopped and looked at his Lord with an expression Elrond could not place.

“I’m sorry, my Lord, but we are not talking about a few misplaced words.”

Frowning, Elrond was not sure what to make of this. Erestor had never been at a loss for the right words, and the legendary quarrels between him and Glorfindel had always been equally matched. He was sure Erestor was more than able return a rude remark. What was this about?

Seeing the frown on his Lord’s face Erestor took a deep breath. “Elrond,” he began and the healer tensed in anticipation at the grave undertone, “you should appoint a guard on Glorfindel. Through I was surprised, I could repel him. But if he catches someone unaware or untrained…”

Elrond was standing now too his back rigid. “What in the Valar’s names are you talking about?” he said sharply. Erestor’s sharp mind and clear words had always impressed him; this fumbling around was unnerving.

Narrowing his eyes and calming his quickly rising ire Erestor took a deep breath. “As you wish, my Lord, then I will be blunt. Glorfindel attacked me not more than half an hour ago!” He opened his tunic and revealed a prominent bruise on his chest and shoulder already blooming dark blue.

The healer stared in disbelief at the injury. In his irritation he nearly forgot to breathe. Was his advisor telling him that his Troop Commander had consciously hurt him?

He briefly closed his eyes. Glorfindel had not only deceived him by telling that he had recovered but had attacked one of his subjects. Erestor was right. Had it not been a trained elf like Erestor the attack could have been much more disastrous.

Now Elrond was sure that Glorfindel was still controlled by the Nazgûl’s will. The warrior had become a safety risk for Imladris and he had to act accordingly.

To be continued…………………………..