Resurrection 24

Resurrection

Part 24

Posted: December 8, 2006
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Gildor recovers and Imladris receives a visitor.

*****

Gildor’s recovery was long and arduous. Erestor was at his bedside day and night until he had enough strength to rise and get around on his own. Only when Gildor was ambulatory did he return to work.

Things between Erestor and Lindir were strained, but he saw hope that their friendship might survive. He knew that Glorfindel had confessed, but he did not know the circumstances surrounding the admission, and he dared not ask. The entire house knew that Glorfindel and Lindir had a falling out, for the minstrel had moved back into his old quarters, that consequently were right next door to Erestor’s.

As for Glorfindel, the Elda found many excuses to be away from the Last Homely House – patrols, hunting trips, excursions into the wilderness surrounding Imladris. This latest excuse was to provide escort to one Prince Thranduil Oropherion.

Everyone in Imladris knew of the special bond of friendship between Oropher and Glorfindel, so it came as no surprise that Oropher would request Glorfindel himself to train Thranduil in the more advanced methods of warfare. What was surprising was that Oropher requested that this training take place in Imladris, rather than their own home of Greenwood.

It was a warm summer day when the Crowned Prince of Greenwood arrived in the Hidden Valley. It was unusually warm for so early in the season, and even though Elves tolerated extreme temperatures well, Erestor was still fanning himself as he stood in the bright sunlight, waiting to receive the prince. Gildor stood beside him, a supportive hand upon his lower back.

“As usual, everything is perfect, my love,” Gildor murmured.

“Are you sure you should be out here? It has only been three months since…”

“Only three months? Do you realize how long three months can be when you are flat on your back for reasons that are less than titillating?”

Erestor snorted. “Gildor! We are about to receive the Crowned Prince of Greenwood and you are playing the baud.”

Gildor grinned. “Is it not comforting to know that some things never change?” He winked.

Erestor shook his head then straightened up as they heard the party approach. “Here they come.”

Glorfindel and Thranduil rode through the gates, followed by the few guards that had traveled to Greenwood and back with Glorfindel. Oropher had not sent a Greenwood escort, owing to his implicit trust in his good friend Glorfindel.

Erestor was impressed with the young prince’s bearing. He was of age, but still young, yet he had the look of one who had already seen much in his life. He was quite tall for one of his years, with bright, pale golden hair the color of summer wheat. He was most fair, with large sapphire eyes, soft lips, and an aristocratic nose. He was gentler in appearance than his father, who had the sharp look of one who did not suffer fools. In this regard, Erestor imagined the prince must take after his mother, who was widely considered the most fair of the Silvan kindred.

Thranduil took his hand and smiled gently, bowing his head though his own rank did not require such an expression of respect. Erestor bowed in return, welcoming the prince to their land.

“Is Lord Elrond present?” Thranduil asked quietly, walking up the stairs beside Glorfindel after having greeted Gildor in a friendly fashion.

“I am.”

Thranduil looked up to the top of the stair and smiled. As they arrived on the landing, he knelt before Elrond, as was the custom of his people.

“You need not kneel, prince,” Elrond answered, lightly touching the prince’s shoulder. “That custom is not required in Imladris.”

Thranduil smiled and rose to his feet. “Not required, perhaps, but freely offered,” he answered, “as a measure of the respect I have for you.”

“It is most appreciated,” Elrond answered with a smile. He placed his hand upon the prince’s shoulder. “Come, tell me of how things are in your homeland.” He led the prince toward the entrance to the Last Homely House, noticing the way Thranduil’s eyes lit upon Lindir and lingered as the minstrel played his lyre. “That is Lindir, my Chief Minstrel,” Elrond said softly as he motioned to the prince to step inside. “He has the most beautiful voice I have ever heard in all of my long life.”

“I look forward to hearing it,” Thranduil answered, prying his gaze from the lovely Noldo and returning it to his host.

“And you shall, we have a welcoming feast prepared this eve; Lindir will perform, as is customary when we receive honored guests.”

Thranduil smiled and bowed his head slightly, then followed Elrond into the house and toward his study.

Glorfindel was not far behind them, and he could not help but notice the way the prince looked at Lindir, or the way Lindir returned the prince’s gaze. He would have thought that it would have made him feel good, to see this interest; instead, he felt jealousy prick at his heart. He had no right, he admonished himself, no right at all to feel jealous after what he had done, and Lindir had every right to pursue happiness without him. He wondered if he would feel the same if Erestor had followed suit and left Gildor for him. However, the counselor did not, and despite Glorfindel knowing that Erestor did indeed love him, he could not deny that the love and affection he saw in Erestor’s eyes when he looked at Gildor was genuine. It was a cruel truth that one could really be in love with more than one other.

He smiled at Lindir, who smiled in return, albeit sadly, then he entered the house, following Elrond and Thranduil toward his lord’s study.

* * * *

Erestor frowned as he unbuttoned the clasps on Gildor’s tunic. “You have overdone it again,” he grumbled. “Look at you; you are pale and perspiring.”

Gildor sat on the edge of their bed, trying valiantly to hide how weary he felt. He did not like it when his lover worried so. “I will be fine, my love,” he answered softly. “Leave me to this. I know you have duties to attend to.”

Erestor shook his head, his jaw set in determination. “No, I will stay here with you and ensure that you rest.”

Gildor sighed and lifted a weary hand to Erestor’s cheek. “You are too good to me, my love.”

Erestor smiled and swallowed a lump in his throat. “I am not nearly good enough,” he answered.

Gildor caressed Erestor’s cheekbone with his thumb. “None of us is perfect. If I had to recount my past transgressions to you, I doubt you would think so highly of me.”

Erestor closed his eyes briefly and pressed his face into Gildor’s hand. “I have finally learned, at long last, that beauty does not lie in perfection; it lies in all that is imperfect, for that is what makes us who we are.”

Gildor slid his hand around to the back of Erestor’s neck. “Well said, my love,” he murmured, before drawing Erestor’s lips to his own in a kiss.

Erestor savored the long, slow, soft kiss his lover bestowed upon him. Gildor’s gentleness never ceased to surprise him. As they parted, he smiled a bit and whispered, “I love you.”

Gildor looked at his lover’s face. Erestor’s eyes were still closed and there was a hint of a smile playing upon his lips. “Rest with me.”

“I will.” Erestor opened his eyes and slid Gildor’s robe from his shoulders. He then helped his lover stand, noting the slight tremor in Gildor’s legs, though the warrior tried to play it off by joking that the kiss made him weak. He pulled the robe out from underneath his lover, and turned back the covers. As Gildor sat once again, he removed his shoes and lifted his legs up onto the bed.

Gildor could not help but sigh in relief as he came to rest. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was still weak and it frightened him a little. He had never had so much difficulty in recovering before. He knew, and Elrond knew, that essentially he had been dead for a very short time. It was not everyday that one died and returned – his best friend could attest to that. He remembered Glorfindel’s account of his death and rebirth; while the Elda’s experience had been more drastic, Glorfindel was the only other one who knew what Mandos’ Halls looked like.

He had been given a choice and he was not sure why. The Vala, in cryptic fashion, had laid his choices out to him. He knew when he returned what lie ahead, and he chose to return despite the fact that his life in Aman would have been free of death and war. It was Erestor that he returned for; his lover was not ready to let him go.

Now, as he held his dark beauty in his arms, he wondered if he had made the right decision. This was prolonging the inevitable, and he knew that it would be easier if he just left and did not return. Perhaps, he would find the strength to do so, but now he was too tired and too weak. As Erestor snuggled against him and sighed, he knew that the time was not right; too much had happened.

“Do you remember what we promised one another that first night?” he asked softly.

“Aye,” Erestor answered. “We swore we would always be friends, above all else.”

“Does that promise hold?” Gildor murmured.

Erestor swallowed. “No. Forgive me, but I love you too much for you to be my friend above being my beloved.”

“Can I not be both?”

“Of course, but one holds sway over the other. Do you not feel the same?”

He could not lie. “Aye, I know of what you speak.”

Erestor propped himself up on one elbow. “Do I make you happy, Gildor?”

Gildor smiled. “More than anyone ever has.” He caressed Erestor’s face. “But the question is not my happiness. It is yours. When we started this, I did not know we would end up this way. I wanted you, yes. I cared deeply about you as well, but I suspected that you were in love…”

Erestor placed his fingers on Gildor’s lips. “I am where I want to be. You are the one I want. You are the one I have and will continue to devote my life to. I love you.”

Gildor nodded and cradled Erestor’s head. “And I love you, Erestor.” He closed his eyes and Erestor leaned in for a kiss.

*****

previous | Chapter Index | next

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Larien Elengasse