Resurrection 34

Resurrection

Part 34

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

Summary: The truth is spoken; a new age dawns.

*****

“Gildor!” Erestor cried as he ran down the steps. His lover caught him in his arms and held him tightly. “I am so glad you are home,” he whispered, showering the warrior with kisses.

“I missed you,” Gildor said softly, holding Erestor close. He knew he would have to let him go, but he did not have to just yet.

“I am sorry,” Erestor murmured. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Gildor made no reply, he merely nodded and buried his face in Erestor’s hair.

“Come, you have traveled long and must be weary.” Erestor took Gildor by the hand and led him up the stairs toward their chambers.

* * * *

Glorfindel entered Elrond’s old chamber to find his lord standing on the balcony, his gaze turned westward.

“’Tis strange to be back in Lindon after so many years,” Elrond murmured. “I only wish it were under happier circumstances.”

“Aye,” Glorfindel agreed. “My old rooms look just as they did when we once lived here, long ago.” He stepped forward and placed his hand upon Elrond’s back.

“You should have left me; you might have saved him.”

Glorfindel closed his eyes. “My sworn duty is to protect you; you know this.”

“And mine was to serve him. I ordered you to go to his side, yet you disobeyed me.”

“You were quickly becoming surrounded, I could not leave you unprotected.”

“And now our king is dead.”

“You blame me.”

Elrond closed his eyes and sighed. After a moment, he answered. “No. No, I do not; forgive me, my friend. I am angry and I have no one left to be angry with. Isildur has taken that cursed Ring with him to Gondor despite all good council and warnings to the contrary; the Dark Lord is beyond the reach of my sword; and I can find no more orcs to kill. I suppose I am now lashing out at whomever I can reach.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Then take your anger out on me, my lord. I shall bear it for the both of us.”

Elrond shook his head. “Nay, you do not deserve it.” He turned and looked thoughtfully at his old friend. “Of all the elves and men I have ever known, you are without a doubt the most selfless.”

“Why say you, my lord?”

“You gave up everlasting peace to protect me; you have stood by and watched Erestor love Gildor all these years despite your love for our councilor; and then there is your loyalty to Lindir. While I know that you love Erestor, and indeed, Lindir knows it as well, you have stood by the minstrel and cared for him. Never have I known one to put others ahead of himself like you do.”

“Perhaps it is not selflessness as much as cowardess,” Glorfindel replied.

“And you have never been comfortable accepting a compliment.”

Glorfindel smiled a little. “True.”

“I am most grateful that you are my friend, Glorfindel.”

“And I am honored to be such, my lord.”

They stood in silence and watched Anor sink beneath the horizon.

* * * *

The funeral of a king is both a solemn and extraordinary event. The streets of Lindon were filled to capacity with the faithful and with nobles who had traveled long and far to say farewell to the last High King of the Noldor. The king had no wife or heirs, and by rights and blood his mantle would have passed to Elrond, had the peredhil accepted it. However, Elrond would not – Vilya had passed to him and that was enough. Whether Elrond accepted the title or no, the Noldor that remained in Middle-earth would look to him for guidance.

Lindir composed a funeral dirge that was sung by the best musicians and singers in Imladris and Lindon. Their voices rose in a chorus, floating upon the air, bringing tears to the eyes of the listeners. Soon, more voices joined in and all those who had loved Gil-galad, the star of radiance, sung his praises to the heavens. Glorfindel watched the Eagles soaring overhead, their cries piercing the high winds as they sang their own song of sorrow.

The ceremony concluded with the internment of Gil-galad’s body in a tomb beneath the castle in Lindon. There his body would lie until the world changed and the last of the Elves departed the earth.

* * * *

Four old friends who had known one another for nearly an age came together on a veranda of the former king’s home. Erestor and Glorfindel each sat at a table in silence: Erestor’s gaze focused on his lap, Glorfindel’s blankly directed at the tabletop. Gildor leaned against a tall railing with his back to the Sea, and Lindir stood with both hands upon the railing, watching the ships slowly rock back and forth while they were moored to the docks.

Not a one of them spoke for a long time. It was the end of an age and the world was changing. They had all heard talk in the streets of leaving, and indeed, many elves were. The Queen and Queen Mother of Greenwood arrived the day before the funeral, escorted by the king and prince. They were sailing into the West where the queen mother would grieve the passing of her husband; many of her folk traveled with her. Thranduil’s wife sailed as well, it seemed that a marriage of arrangement could not survive the toll war took upon it. The princess found herself to be a queen, and her husband was not the same elf she had wed now that the war was done. It was not only the Sindar and Silvan folk of the east who were leaving; many Noldor were leaving as well.

Lindir had seen Thranduil and they had a subdued reunion. He too could see the change in the Sinda, but it was one he did not mourn. Thranduil had grown into an introspective king with a proud bearing. But beneath that pride was a strong, noble, and valiant heart. He had already heard enough tales about the war to bear out what he saw in his friend’s eyes. War had changed him, but perhaps for the better.

Gildor looked first at Lindir, then at Glorfindel, then finally at Erestor. He had been governed by a sense of numbness since he left Imladris to go to war, and suddenly he found himself filled with a sense of urgency.

“What are we doing?” he asked matter-of-factly.

Erestor looked up first. “We are grieving,” he answered softly.

“No. I mean what are we doing,” he stressed, “all of us.”

Glorfindel and Lindir both looked at him. Lindir nodded and turned to face his friends.

“It is clear to each of us here what the truth is, yet still we persist in living a lie. I, for one, have seen too much death to live one more day in a lie.”

Erestor slowly stood, his heart pounding hard in his chest and his palms beginning to sweat. “Gildor, what are you talking about?”

Gildor looked at his lover. “You are in love with Glorfindel; you always have been. And Glorfindel is in love with you.”

“What are you talking about? Why are you saying this?” Erestor stammered, dumbfounded.

“Erestor, stop lying to protect me. I love you for it, but I cannot live like this.”

“Nor can I,” Lindir joined in, reaching out and clasping Gildor’s hand in support.

“Sparrow?” Glorfindel also began to rise, despite the growing sensation that his legs might give out.

“We both know that you and I are together out of some sense of familiarity and a desire not to be alone. I cannot do this any more. Familiarity and companionship is not love, not the kind of love that lasts through the ages,” Lindir responded. “I want a love that lasts; I want a love that makes me breathless, that makes my hands tremble and my knees weak, I want…” his voice trailed off and he fell silent.

“I will not do this one more day,” Gildor replied to Erestor, “and I will not aid you in doing this anymore either.” He stepped forward, meeting his lover as Erestor began to walk toward him. Taking Erestor’s face in his hands, he pressed their foreheads together. “Friendship first, remember?” he whispered. “This is what friends do for one another.” He kissed Erestor softly on the lips, then left his stunned lover standing on the veranda.

Glorfindel reached out for Lindir’s hand, then lowered it as his lover refused to take it; it was time to let him go. He watched in sorrow as Lindir followed Gildor into the house. “I am sorry, sparrow,” he said softly, his voice drifting out to sea on the gentle breeze.

“Sweet Elbereth,” Erestor murmured. “Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods…”

Glorfindel quickly stepped forward and steadied his friend. “Erestor.”

“My life is coming undone, it is unraveling, I…”

“Erestor.”

“I have to stop him; I cannot let him leave like this, I cannot let him believe that I never loved him!”

“He does not believe that,” Glorfindel said softly.

“I have to talk to him. I have to make him understand…”

Glorfindel turned Erestor to face him and gave his shoulders a gentle shake. “Understand what? That you do not love me? That is a lie and you know it. Erestor, our lovers just did what we could not find the strength to do. They let us go. They let us go so that we can be together.”

“Together?” Erestor murmured. “You and I?”

Glorfindel began to smile. “Aye, you and I, together.”

“Oh gods, oh gods, Glorfindel. What have we done?”

“We fell in love,” Glorfindel answered. “Now let us hope our friends love us enough to forgive us.” Glorfindel took Erestor into his arms and held him close. “I am never letting you go again,” he murmured into Erestor’s ear.

*****

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