Resurrection 31

Resurrection

Part 31

Posted: January 26, 2007
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: The truth is known.

*****

Erestor awoke in Gildor’s arms, his cheek pressed against his lover’s chest. He listened to Gildor’s slow, steady heartbeat, and tried to concentrate on the rising and falling of Gildor’s chest as he breathed. How had things gone so awry? Glorfindel and Lindir were going through the motions as lovers; though there was no doubt that each cared deeply for the other. As for he and Gildor – his lover was devoted to him, but somehow, for some reason, he seemed to have withdrawn a little since his experience in Eregion. It was as if Gildor were waiting for Erestor to reveal how he felt about Glorfindel; indeed, it was as if Gildor were almost baiting him to do so.

He cared about Gildor, of that there was no doubt, and hurting him was the last thing in the wide world he wanted to do. Gildor had always cared for him, been his friend and staunch supporter, and been a most generous and excellent lover. Despite all that he had with the warrior, he still yearned for Glorfindel’s arms, for his lips, for the taste of him, the smell of him. ‘I am truly wretched,’ he thought to himself, even as his fingers softly caressed his lover’s chest.

The warriors of Imladris would leave that afternoon to travel to Mordor, and Erestor did not know if he would ever see any of them again. He had come across Celebrían in the garden a few days prior; she was clearly worried, but despite her fear, she put on a brave face. Galadriel had returned to Lindon, to bid farewell to her husband before he rode off to war. She had tried to convince Celebrían to go with her, to await their fate in the Havens, but Celebrían, being of like mind and strength, refused; she wanted to wait for Elrond in Imladris. Erestor had taken it upon himself to befriend the lady; indeed, it was no hardship. She was bright, witty, and most interesting to talk to, so he had encouraged her to spend time with him and Lindir in the library.

Gildor stirred beneath him, drawing a deep breath, then slowly blinking as he woke. A slow smile curved the warrior’s lips and he drew his hand down Erestor’s back, bringing it to rest upon the curve of his buttocks.

Giving them a gentle squeeze, he murmured, “Good morn, my love.”

Erestor placed a kiss upon his lover’s chest. “Good morn, my warrior.”

“Mmm… I am not feeling much like a warrior this morn, given the treatment you bestowed upon me last night.”

Erestor smiled and chuckled softly. “Aye, I rode you right well, did I not?”

Gildor laughed. “Indeed you did, my lusty librarian, indeed you did.”

Erestor laughed aloud. “Ai, Gildor, you always know just what to say to make me laugh.”

“That is because your laughter lightens my heart, Erestor, and I aim to bring pleasure to myself with it,” Gildor murmured into his lover’s hair.

“I love you, Gildor.”

“And I love you, Erestor.”

Gildor bestowed a smack upon Erestor’s bare bottom. “Come, you wicked elf, we need a bath and there is much to do.”

“Can we not stay here, forever?”

“I fear that love alone will not sustain us, as tempting as that is.” Gildor tilted Erestor’s chin up so their eyes met. “I know you are afraid, I am as well. Nevertheless, we have no choice left, Erestor. We cannot abandon all hope. Elrond knows of a way to destroy him, and we must try.”

Erestor nodded. “I only wish I could go with you.”

“I will fight much better knowing you are here, safe.”

“But I will not sleep for worry of you.”

“Ah, but sleep is where we can meet, my love; in dreams we can be together even if we cannot be in body.”

Erestor took Gildor’s face in his hands. “I do not know what I have done to deserve so rich and full a love.”

Gildor slid his hand around the back of Erestor’s neck. “You are you. You need do nor be anything else.” He drew his lover down into a kiss.

* * * *

The house was bustling with activity. The kitchen staff was rushing to and from the pantries, stocking the wagons with provisions to get the regiments as far as Gondor. Gildor was supervising the loading of weapons stock while Glorfindel and Erestor were in council chambers with Elrond.

Lindir managed the loading of goods, checking items off his list as they were placed into the wagons: supplies of water, miruvor, tea, lembas, dried fruits and meats, tents, pots, lanterns, small tables with folding legs that Erestor had designed, maps, parchment, quills, ink pots, everything that they might need to set up camp for extended periods of time. It was like overseeing the moving of a small city. It was when he and Nestagar took inventory of supplies for the infirmary that reality set in. There were surgical tools, bandages, small folding cots of similar design to Erestor’s tables, various herbs to ward off infection and to provide anesthetization; all these things and more would probably be needed before it was done. Fully two-thirds of Elrond’s healing staff, the best trained and most experience healers in all of Elvendom, would travel with the army, leaving behind only enough healers to tend to whatever bumps, bruises, or possible births might occur in the Hidden Valley.

Elrond and his advisors emerged from the chamber, and he found Celebrían waiting for him on a small bench in the corridor. Without a word, he took her hand and led her away, as the rest of the council dispersed. Erestor and Glorfindel stood near the doorway to the chamber as the others left.

Glorfindel drew a deep breath and released it. “The time has come,” he said softly. “He will fall, or we will.”

Erestor reached out and clasped Glorfindel’s hand tightly. “Please, do not say it like that.”

Glorfindel smiled wanly and turned to face Erestor. “You have changed so much over these long years, Erestor. You have grown into your own and I am so proud of you. I remember the first time we spoke, in the healing tents, remember?”

“Aye, I remember,” Erestor whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“You were so lost, so unsure of yourself and what was to come. Now look at you – you designed this house, you have built the finest library in all of Elvendom, and you have become Lord Elrond’s most trusted advisor. I knew when I first saw you that you would accomplish great things…”

“Stop it. Stop saying goodbye. You are coming back; you have to come back.”

“I wish to leave nothing unsaid, my raven.”

“Then say what I long to hear, my lion,” Erestor whispered.

“I have loved you these many years, though I could not prove that to you in the way you needed me to. I love you now and will always love you. You are the keeper of my heart,” Glorfindel whispered.

Erestor squeezed Glorfindel’s hand. “By the Valar, how I love you, Glorfindel. I have loved you since I first saw your smile and heard your laugh. I have been so foolish, so cowardly; I let you go when I should have fought for you. I withheld my heart when I should have given it freely. For that I will always feel regret, but for loving you, I shall feel none, and I shall love you until I draw my last breath.”

Erestor turned to look into Glorfindel’s eyes then he reached up and touched the warrior’s face. “If you die, then I die, how that happens is unimportant.” He gasped quietly as Glorfindel swept him into his arms and kissed him deeply. They embraced, their mouths moving against one another, trying to convey all that they felt in that kiss.

Gildor withdrew around the corner before he was seen. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall, he felt his heart sink. He had known all along; he had known that Erestor loved Glorfindel since the day Lindir was attacked. He knew it when he made love to him the first time, and he had known it every day since. Now, what he knew in his heart to be true was proved in the seeing. He felt no malice toward Erestor; they had promised one another long ago that friendship would always come first. What he felt was regret for not trying to do something to put them together. That cold autumn afternoon, he made a solemn promise: he would protect Glorfindel with his life, he would see that the Elda returned to be with Erestor, even if that meant he did not. He loved them both so much.

He turned and trod silently down the hallway, descending the stairs and making for the courtyard.

* * * *

Lindir had to take but one look at Gildor to know what the warrior was feeling. The look in the Noldo’s eye was one that had stared back at him in the mirror for many long years now. He walked toward Gildor slowly, trying to think of what to say – what was there to say? As he reached the warrior, he opted to say nothing; instead, he placed a supportive hand upon the warrior’s arm and just looked at him.

Ah, there it was. As Gildor looked into Lindir’s eyes, he recognized that expression of calm acceptance that things were not as one would have them be and never would be that way. Gildor knew that the minstrel felt what he felt, knew what he knew. “How did we get to this place?” he asked quietly.

“By following our hearts,” Lindir answered.

“It is not something I have done before.”

“Nor I. But just because our hearts led us astray this time, does not mean they always will.”

Gildor tucked a braid behind Lindir’s ear. “How did you become so wise?”

Lindir smiled sadly. “By having my heart broken.”

Gildor drew the minstrel into his arms and held him tight. “We will get through this, Lindir. That I promise.”

“Aye,” Lindir murmured into Gildor’s ear. “We will get each other through this.”

*****

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