Chapter 13: hopes we never wanted to lose

Sighing deeply the Master of Imladris rose from behind his desk. He had to check on his Troop commander. Two days had gone by since he had successfully removed the Nazgûl’s presence from Glorfindel’s mind.

Only minutes ago he had let his senses roam around and beyond his valley. He had followed the course of the mighty Bruinen, had traced along the borders, had followed the breeze, communicated with the trees and listened to the surrounding song. To his satisfaction he could no longer detect anything threatening. All seemed in order again.

Earlier, warriors sent out to inspect the area where the patrol had been slain, had also returned with glad tidings. No trace of the Nazgûl could be found nor any sign of roaming orcs. With the destruction of the Nazgûl’s spirit, the bodily presence had vanished too.

Of course he had looked after Glorfindel in the past two days but every time he visited, the warrior was asleep or pretended to be asleep. He was not sure what to make of this. The removal of the evil presence was obviously not enough to let the warrior heal.

His mind was too traumatised to wish to go on. Erestor, his sons and many others had reminded him of the fact that Glorfindel needed time to recover even if his physical wounds had long healed.

As if he did not know this best.

Yet he could not even detect if the warrior had made any steps toward his recovery. Glorfindel had been avoiding him purposefully. The healer wondered how long this would go on.

He was willing to give the warrior all the time he needed to come to terms with what had happened, but this shutting himself off was contra productive.

Elrond sighed. He had wracked his brain for a way to pull the warrior from his shell. Never before had his experience left him so utterly helpless. Should he confront his friend directly and address his pride or duty, or should he let him brood until he came around on his own?

Neither way met his approval. He had to find another course to reach his much-loved friend and missed member of their community.

Two times already the little son of Thalan had asked him for permission to visit the best friend of his father. With a heavy heart the healer had declined with the excuse that the warrior was still recovering. The boy had accepted this, but not without the promise of being allowed to visit his idol as soon as possible.

Thalan’s wife did not entirely understand the reluctance of her Lord. Her husband and the Troop Commander had always been close friends beyond their professional ranks. She did not know about the outcome of the meeting between Galaeron and his chief.

The captain had obviously not told her and Elrond had no intention of telling her either. Yet he was loath to subject the lovable elfling to the same unpleasant experience.

Even though he could not believe that Glorfindel would be this cruel to a little elfling he would take no chances.

The pleading eyes of the little boy however made his resolve crumble the minute he had crossed the threshold of the house the elfling and his mother resided in.  

“Master Elrond, can I go visit Glorfindel today?” the boy asked and looked up at him with hopeful brown eyes. The elfling grieved deeply for his father, yet the prospect of meeting his most beloved “uncle” always cheered him up.

Lifting the boy up with a smile the Elf-lord greeted the warrior’s wife with a nod. His attention returned to the youngling a moment later by his imploring eyes and unanswered question.

Making a quick decision the Elf-lord looked at the elfling smiling. “Yes, you may, Elenion. You can come and visit Glorfindel soon. Would you like that?”

The short disappointment for not being allowed to come with the healer instantly was replaced a second later by the joy of being allowed to visit at all.

“Oh, yes!” the boy cried already wriggling to be set down. As soon as his feet touched the ground the elfling was out of the door and out of sight.

Liriel smiled after her son and gestured the Elf-lord to sit on the couch. Elrond obliged and gently took both of her hands in his own. He looked into her eyes and was satisfied; despite still seeing deep grief, there was also a resolve to not fade.

She returned the gaze bravely while swallowing a sob. “I’m glad you’ll let him come…finally,” she replied the slight lack of understanding in her voice not lost on the healer.

Elrond knew he had to explain something. The whole truth however he would withhold for now. There would be another time to tell it.

“Glorfindel has not been himself of late. I only wanted to protect your son but maybe his visit will do some good.”

She looked at him with a frown. Why should the healer want to protect her son from the one elf she would trust with her son’s life without question?

Was there something besides the horrible wounds and trauma the Troop Commander was recovering from that Elrond had not told her?  

Seeing the deepening frowning on her face Elrond squeezed her hands tighter to get her attention back while sending calming emotions toward her.

“Peace, Liriel. All is fine. I will make sure that your son is perfectly safe.” Reluctantly she nodded still not sure what to make of this cryptic statements.

Elrond rose after he had made his farewell. He was sure he had made the right decision. Glorfindel had been aggressive and offensive while still possessed; but after the removal of the evil presence only desperation remained. Maybe the little boy could show him the way back to the light?

……………………………………………….

Elladan retreated deeper into the shadow of the corridor; forcing his brother right behind him to take a step back too. The twins were just on their way to meet with their father when the healer emerged from Glorfindel´s suite.

The older twin laid a finger across his lips to silence the question on Elrohir´s tongue. His brother’s irritation however did come through their bond clearly. *Why are we hiding, brother?*

His reply not completely formed yet, Elladan gasped when he caught a glimpse of his father’s face. The soft corresponding gasp from behind told him that Elrohir had seen it too.

The emotions that flittered across their father’s face could only be described as crestfallen. This display of emotion was a rare sight and only possible because the healer was not aware of being watched.

The warrior had apparently again rejected the Elf-lord. This was not the first time and had been going on for days now. Every time Elrond wanted to get through to the grieving warrior Glorfindel blocked these attempts. The legendary patience of the healer was wearing thin but never had he responded with anything but kindness and understanding.

Elladan observed this with growing worry. His father looked worse from day to day. He had never complained but you had only to look to know how the Troop Commander’s rejection weighed on the healer’s mind.

And now he had done it again. Elladan loved the warrior dearly but this had gone too far. All of the elves caring for him had reached the end of their patience. This had to stop now. The warrior had to pull through or depart to find healing in the West. It was as simple as that.

Feeling the strong emotion of irritation from his twin Elrohir grasped his brother’s arm. Even though he felt the same he first had to pacify his agitated brother otherwise the situation would get completely out of hand.

Elladan whirled around with a stormy expression on his face. “How far out of hand will you allow this to go?” he asked with a barely restrained voice. Elrohir narrowed his eyes. He was not responsible for this mess and did agree with his brother, but first Elladan had to calm down.

However, before he had the chance to reply he felt a strong grip on his arm forcing him back further down the corridor. To his surprise Elladan was being pulled along in the same manner.

When he discovered who was dragging them so forcefully away from the warrior’s rooms Elrohir took a deep breath, fully knowing what would come next.

Erestor stopped right under a torch and looked from one twin to the other. “Stop sneaking around like thieves. And stop making rash decisions that won’t make anything better.”

Elladan looked aghast at the dark-haired councillor. “Rash decisions, you say? Erestor, this has been going on for days. Father is wearing himself down. We will not stand by and do nothing until he collapses. Glorfindel has got to come to his senses!”

Not displaying any emotion on his face Erestor released his hold on the brothers. “I agree with you,” he said in a controlled voice, “but it’s not your place to do this.”

Elladan raised an eyebrow. “And who do you deem is the right one for this?” the twin asked with a challenge. Having dealt long enough with the older twin’s temper Erestor returned the mocking gaze unimpressed.

“Elladan, Elrohir, listen to me. Glorfindel needs to be pushed out of the dark chasm he has not been able to leave by himself, but it must be done by someone who is as old as he; someone who is a long-time friend, someone who is a mental equal. Your father is too close and you two are too young. There will be only one chance to try. Either I can get through to him or we will lose him forever.”

After the councillor had ended Elladan lowered his eyes and the younger twin swallowed. Erestor was right. His judgment was sound. They had nearly made a possibly fatal mistake.

“Erestor,” Elladan replied while raising his eyes, “you are right. Please excuse my words spoken in anger and frustration. We consent to your proposal.”

“Never mind, I will do what I can. Now go and please keep your father occupied.” With that, the elf turned and strode determinedly down the corridor. The brothers looked after him with matching troubled hearts.

Now all he had to do was to convince Glorfindel, and that would be much harder.

……………………………………..

Having reached the door of Glorfindel´s suite Erestor briefly hesitated before he raised his hand to knock. He had recited what he wanted to say many times and every so often he had discarded the words. He would do what he knew best: to let his intuition rule his actions.

After knocking he waited, not really expecting an invitation. He was just about to knock again when he heard a soft “enter”. He raised an eyebrow in surprise but quickly masked his features when he opened the door.  Maybe this was going to be easier than he had anticipated?

Yet his hopes vanished the moment he crossed the threshold. The warrior was sitting on the windowsill. His gaze was directed out of the window. He did nothing further to acknowledge Erestor’s entry.

Erestor narrowed his eyes. What had happened to his friend? He had suffered a great trauma, yes. He had experienced a heavy loss, but never before had he seen the great warrior so utterly and completely lost. This was not like the Glorfindel he knew of old. His friend had suffered much greater tragedies in his past and every time he had recovered. This devastation was unlike him.

Even though his confidence was shaken Erestor decided to plunge in head on. They could only gain ground and make progress. His current state was no longer acceptable.

“Glorfindel” he said with a carefully controlled voice. “I must speak with you.”

He received no reaction at all.

Forcing himself to remain where he was Erestor waited. Glorfindel could be incredibly stubborn, maybe he was testing his patience but he could be as stubborn as his long-time friend.

As if sensing that ignoring Erestor would not achieve the desired effect, Glorfindel turned his head. Erestor’s face was like a mask. Glorfindel had to react now – one way or the other.

Erestor narrowed his eyes however when the warrior looked at him with a mixture of disinterest and arrogance.

With a voice devoid of any emotion Glorfindel snapped. “But I have no desire to speak with you, Erestor. Please leave!”

Erestor did not move. If he could not get through to his friend now he never would. They would lose the warrior to a slow fading. Choosing his words carefully the dark haired councillor stepped closer.

“Glorfindel, my friend, listen to me. We are worried about you.” When Glorfindel half-turned towards him, Erestor quickly stepped closer.

“Not long ago we thought we had lost you. Our hearts were devastated when word reached us that you had been killed by the orcs. We rejoiced all the more when we discovered that you survived.”

When the warrior fully turned his back on the councillor, Erestor stiffened.

“I survived, yes. But many good men died that day,” Glorfindel said angrily.

“Yes, but that was their job, wasn’t it; to protect their home and to guarantee the safety of their loved ones? Glorfindel, they died with this in mind, do not make their sacrifice worthless through your self-loathing.”

Before he could blink Erestor found himself suddenly inches away from the angry face of the warrior.

“Erestor, you do not know of what you speak. I do not question their bravery. They died because of me, because I was unable to defend them, because the Nazgûl had forced me into submission and made them surrender. I was supposed to protect my men, not the other way ‘round.”

Erestor swallowed when the light of Valinor flashed in the other elf’s eyes. Yet outwardly he remained calm and controlled. Now they were getting to the core of the problem. Maybe he could push his friend a bit farther.

“Glorfindel, I can imagine how terrible it must have been for you. But you must make amends otherwise you will not only destroy your own soul but a few others who love you, who depend on you, who hope that you will return to them…..”

The dark-haired councillor was unable to finish his sentence. A hand was clamped around his neck and again he was forcefully pushed against the wall behind him.

“Stop this, Erestor. I have had enough of it. I was responsible for the death of twenty-five good warriors. I did not have the strength to repel a Nazgûl. I have become the greatest threat to the very valley I have sworn to protect. I’ve betrayed my land and my Lord. I’ve failed in all the duties the Valar entrusted me with. I have no desire to go on with this shame. Have I made myself clear now?”

With that, the warrior released his grip and turned. Before Erestor could even think of a reply the warrior had left the room hurriedly.

Rubbing his sore neck Erestor stared at the door that had banged shut. Now he had accomplished the complete opposite of his intentions. Instead of guiding his friend back to them he had ultimately pushed him away. Now Glorfindel was out of reach.

Middle-earth would be bereft of a mighty presence, Imladris would lose its most competent protector and he would lose his best friend.

To be continued……………………………….