Resurrection 30

Resurrection

Part 30

Posted: December 29, 2006
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: The refugees from Nûmenor arrive, Elrond finds love, and Erestor hangs on by a thread.

*****

Their arrival was a solemn one. Gildor came first through the gates, followed by those warriors who remained loyal to Elendil even if it meant losing their lives. The eldest of the warriors clasped Gildor’s shoulders, and then led his men to the barracks where they would be housed until lodgings that were more permanent could be arranged. There were hundreds of them, loyal, brave soldiers who were now without a homeland. Elrond followed, riding between Glorfindel and Elendil; the man’s sons followed.

Erestor embraced Gildor as his lover reached him, and he held on tightly. It was so good to have him home, so good to have him in his arms again. He smiled sadly at his lord, as Elrond led the men up the stairs to the Last Homely House, then watched as Lindir embraced Glorfindel. His old friend looked so tired, so downtrodden, so unlike the Elda he had known and loved these many, many years. He turned his worried gaze to Gildor as Glorfindel and Lindir departed.

“How bad was it?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“The island is no more,” Gildor answered. “Galdor saw their ships coming and far off in the distance he said he could see a black cloud and smoke. A tumultuous storm approached, lashing the shores with the tallest waves he had ever seen. It was a few days before pieces of timber and cloth, and worse, began washing ashore. It was several weeks later that Isildur and Anárion came from the south. In the storm, they were driven to Pelagir.” Erestor closed his eyes and sighed. He felt Gildor’s hand on his face and he opened them again, gazing into his lover’s eyes. “The Eagles came again when it was through. Glorfindel said that they told him the sea opened up and the cliffs of the Pelóri fell, and all the men who had sailed to Aman were lost.”

“What of Sauron?”

“His corporeal form was destroyed with the island; the Eagles believe that his spirit has fled back to the East.” Gildor caressed Erestor’s cheek. “The best we can hope for is to hold him at bay; there is no destroying him.”

“All those people who died,” Erestor murmured. “There were women and children on that island; there were those who did not choose nor seek the evil that befell them.”

“They are in a better place now, my love. They are far from the darkness and hatred in this world, and for those envious and wicked who brought this doom, they will spend an eternity reaping their reward.”

Erestor wrapped his arm around Gildor’s waist as they slowly climbed the stairs. “’Tis good to have you home,” he said softly. “I have missed you.”

Gildor pressed a kiss to the side of Erestor’s head. “And I missed you.”

* * * *

Lindir helped Glorfindel out of his tunic and tossed it in the laundry basket. As his lover sat on the side of the bed, he climbed onto the mattress behind him and began removing his braids, working a brush through his golden locks once they were freed. Neither said a word; Glorfindel stared blankly at the wall, and Lindir hummed softly as he went about his work. After a few moments, Glorfindel reached up and caught the minstrel’s wrist, then turned and gently pulled Lindir to lie in his lap. He caressed his lover’s face, tracing fine cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs.

“You give me such comfort,” he said quietly. “Your touch can erase all the ills of the world for me.”

Lindir smiled sadly. “I am sorry, Glorfindel. I know you cared deeply for the Dúnedain.”

“So many of them died because of the evil of a few; so many women and children; so much smoke, fire, and death. I know what they went through; it must have been like the fall of my beloved city.”

Lindir wrapped his arms around Glorfindel’s waist and pressed his head to the Elda’s stomach. “You have seen too much. You have been asked to bear too much.”

Glorfindel stroked Lindir’s hair. “I chose this, sparrow, and I would choose it again.”

“That is because you are brave and you seek to help those you love. It is why I love you, Glorfindel.”

He bent down and kissed the crown of Lindir’s head. “And I love you, sparrow.”

“Come, let me draw you a bath.”

Glorfindel nodded and allowed Lindir to rise before removing the rest of his garments and following his lover into the bathing chamber.

* * * *

Elrond gave shelter to the men of Nûmenor for several months, allowing them time to regroup and recover from the traumatic loss of their homes and kinsmen. In the autumn of the year 3320 of the Second Age, Elendil traveled to the north where he founded the realm of Arnor; his sons, Isildur and Anárion traveled south and founded the land of Gondor. There the men of Nûmenor would keep vigil over the Dark Lord in his shadowed land.

They could all feel the slow turning of the tide as Sauron gained strength again. Bolstered by the destruction of Nûmenor and many of his enemies of old, the Dark Lord refortified his desolate fortress of Mordor, and the Dark Tower. His form had been destroyed as the island collapsed in a tumult of fire, smoke, and ash, and he would never again be able to take a form that could be borne by the eyes of Men or Elves; rather, he became the physical manifestation of evil, with a great fiery eye that kept malicious watch over his land. So terrible was this visage that few could bear to look upon it; indeed, few ever survived to tell the tale. His dark borders were patrolled by orcs and rank with poisonous fumes that erupted from Orodruin. The Nazgûl withdrew to Mordor at the command of the Dark Lord, where they also grew in strength; they were Sauron’s most deadly weapons.

Imladris was sheltered for a long while from the growing darkness, but the Eldar knew that war would come in time; so in secret, they prepared. Elrond communicated via messenger with Gil-galad and Círdan in the west, and Amroth, the Lord of Lórien, and Oropher in the East. He also kept communication with Elendil and his sons, and the Dwarven kings that dwelled beneath the mountains. Sauron would once again seek dominion over the earth, and they all knew that no less than a combined effort of all free peoples would be able to mount an assault on Mordor and defend their home. So, as Sauron’s power grew, Elves, Men, and Dwarves prepared for war.

Lindir continued to exchange letters with Thranduil; their friendship had grown strong despite the miles between them. Each letter from the prince caused a smile to curve his lips as he read about Legolas’ latest exploits, or how he climbed his first tree. Thranduil was as proud of his son as any father could be, and it warmed Lindir’s heart to know that what begun as an arranged marriage had become such a source of joy to his friend. Other than talk of how his wife was an excellent and doting mother, the prince did not speak often of his princess. Yet, Lindir had to wonder if this was the way love was supposed to be; if real love was but a shadow of what he wrote in poetry and song.

Erestor immersed himself in his daily life. His responsibilities on the council had greatly increased. He had grown into a trusted and wise advisor to Elrond; indeed, the Lord of Imladris relied on him often. He also kept in close contact with his old friend Galdor. While plans for war were never shared in missives, owing to the danger of their plans being found by Sauron’s spies, the states of their realms were often discussed. Galdor often told Erestor how proud he was of him and how he had grown into his own as an advisor. Erestor had to admit, he was proud of himself too; he had earned the right to be such.

Gildor and Glorfindel increased patrols and stepped up the training of as many new recruits as they could muster. Each of them knew what was coming and they were determined to meet the challenge.

The Lady Galadriel traveled to Imladris, bringing her daughter, Celebrían with her. Upon meeting Celebrían, Erestor noted he did not recall ever meeting an elleth who was so utterly disarming. She was tall, like her mother, with a generous fall of flaxen hair and large blue eyes. She had a quick wit, a gentle disposition, and wisdom that was beyond her years. Elrond was completely enamored. It gave Erestor great joy to watch the budding romance between the Lady Celebrían and his lord. Elrond deserved happiness.

It was a cool spring afternoon when Erestor stepped outside onto the veranda that joined the library to get a breath of fresh air. He had been cloistered in his office since before Anor rose and his thoughts were muddled from pouring over rosters and ledgers for hours. He placed his hands upon the stone railing, breathing in the cool, fresh air and feeling Anor’s rays upon his face when he heard soft laughter, akin to bells ringing in the clear air.

Celebrían ran out onto the grass, barefoot, with her gown flowing behind her and her hair billowing on the soft breeze. Laughter of a deeper timbre followed, and Erestor spied his lord following the lady into the garden. They stopped beneath an arbor draped in flowers, and he gently took her into his arms. Erestor had never, in all the years he had served his lord, seen Elrond smile like that; it caused warmth to flood his chest and tears of happiness prick at his eyes. His lord gently cupped the lady’s cheek and softly drew her in for a kiss, after which she smiled and laughed again, throwing her arms around Elrond’s neck as he lifted her into the air.

“It gives one hope, does it not?”

Erestor turned to find Glorfindel standing behind him.

“It gives me joy to see him in love,” the Elda said quietly. “I feared I would never witness such.”

“Aye, it makes me happy as well. He deserves the best that love can offer.”

“We all do,” Glorfindel murmured.

“When will you be leaving?”

“As soon as the weather clears. We are to travel south to meet Gil-galad, Elendil, Celeborn, and Círdan, before turning east. Oropher and Amroth will ride south and meet us south of Greenwood before heading toward Gondor.”

“I do not understand why I cannot come with you; you could all use my help, and Galdor will be there, will he not?”

“Nay, Galdor will remain behind at Círdan’s request. He must prepare the ships at the Havens in case we do not succeed.”

“What happens then?”

“Then all Firstborn must flee these shores or die.”

“And what of the Edain and the Dwarves?”

“I imagine the Dwarves will seek shelter beneath the mountains where they will defend their homes, and the Edain will fight until there are none left standing.” Glorfindel stepped up to stand beside Erestor. “You must prepare for the worst, Erestor. If we do not return, if we do not succeed, then you must take our people and travel to Mithlond, from there you must board the ships and sail to Aman.”

“What if I do not want to sail without Gildor . . . or you?”

“I cannot force you to do what you will not. Nevertheless, if Gildor and I do not return, then our spirits will have already fled this earth. Perhaps, if this comes to pass, we will meet again, in Aman. If you stay, you will die a gruesome death – I could not bear that, my raven.”

Erestor closed his eyes. “What have I done, Glorfindel? I have tried to do what I thought was right, but…”

“You have done what you thought was right, and you have done right by Gildor. I expect nothing less from you.”

“Do you still love me?” Erestor whispered.

“Every day,” Glorfindel replied.

Erestor felt the Elda’s hands on his shoulders, then Glorfindel kissed the top of his head and left him alone on the veranda.

*****

previous | Chapter Index | next

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