A love returned 1/?

Title: A Love Returned

Website; http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon/
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel and Éomer/Legolas.
Rating: NC-17

Summary: Erestor decides to visit Helm’s Deep to say his final goodbyes to Glorfindel and makes a startling discovery.

Disclaimer: These characters are all Tolkien’s.
Warning: AU.
Author’s Note: All mistakes are all mine; yeah, I am greedy! And remember; this is AU! Many thanks to Ford of Bruinen for brainstorming with me. Unfortunately not beta read.

A Love Returned

Part 1

/I finally made it here. Helm’s Deep lies before me and my heart cringes at seeing the scattered remains of the ones who bravely fought here, defending the Keep. Although they tried to bury most bodies in one mass grave, they failed to collect all bones, and who can blame them? When this battle took place, chaos ruled.

Looking down, I stare at the stones, still sporting weak imprints of the blood that was spilled here. Legolas told me that this was where Haldir fell and I take a moment to remember this noble and valiant warrior. I thought I heard sorrow and remorse in Legolas’ voice, but I cannot be certain. Legolas has grown quiet and even private since we began this journey.

Several weeks ago I finally made up my mind. I had been staring at Glorfindel’s sword for hours and finally realized that I needed closure. I needed to come here and see for myself where Glorfindel had fallen. I needed to pay him my last respects, so I could forgive myself for not admitting I loved him earlier. If I only I had told him before that fateful night! We might have had some happy years if I had. But no, I had kept silent, and so had he.

Elrond had given me a shocked look at hearing I wanted to visit Helm’s Deep. For one moment he had stared at me in a fashion that suggested he believed I had finally succumbed to madness. But I had not. I had not felt that clear-headed since Glorfindel had passed away.

Traveling here took us several weeks. We also had to detour to Edoras because Elrond insisted Éomer was entitled to know we were passing into his land and heading for Helm’s Deep. The welcome had been friendly and warm and Éomer had offered to guide us. Legolas had first argued that it wasn’t necessary, as he was perfectly capable of finding the way, but Éomer had insisted.

Reluctantly, Legolas had eventually given in. Legolas’ reluctance to allow Éomer to be part of this undertaking surprised me somewhat. Legolas probably had his reasons for avoiding Éomer, but his motives eluded me. Éomer struck me as a brave and intelligent Man, although flawed by his mortality, of course.

I had asked them to wait for me in the courtyard, as I had wanted to enter the Keep alone. I needed this moment of privacy to sort out my feelings. Both Éomer and Legolas had appeared worried at my request, but had allowed it, knowing I had every right to say my goodbyes to my lost love.

Looking out over the grounds, I tried to imagine what it was like, being part of such a terrifying fight. Legolas hadn’t told me many details about the battles itself, and I hadn’t pushed him, seeing the memories had caused him pain. But I knew it had been raining heavily that night and thunder and lightning had greatly added to the ghostly atmosphere./

Slowly, Erestor made his way down to the spot which Legolas had pointed out to him. This was where Glorfindel had been seen last. This was the spot where his love had died.

Erestor managed to maintain his composure, knowing that Glorfindel wouldn’t want him to cave in and burst out in tears. The warrior’s passing, and his remembrance called for a more dignified and controlled goodbye.

Kneeling, he placed his fingers on the earth. The grass was still moist from the dew that had settled over the land during the morning and he sucked in a deep breath, trying to control his pain.

“I wish I had been here that dreadful night. Maybe I could have blocked that blow, or have taken it for you.” But he wasn’t a warrior like Glorfindel. Aye, he could hold his own if necessary, but lacked the necessary battle skills that had made Glorfindel such a valuable asset in this battle.

“I miss you, Glorfindel. Legolas brought back your sword… And the moment I saw it I realized I would never see you, talk, kiss, hold you or make love to you again. Your soul has returned to the Halls of Waiting and we will be reunited the day I die. But do not worry,” Erestor added with a slight chuckle. “I won’t take my life. I know you would not want me to do that. That is not the way of a warrior.”

Unsheathing Glorfindel’s sword, he reverently placed it upon the grass. “I should leave it where you released your last breath, but I am unwilling to part from it, as it was an essential part of you.” Having it near made him feel closer to Glorfindel. “I will go on, I guess. I will continue to serve Elrond and when the time comes to sail for Valinor, I will stand by his side. I won’t desert him.”

Smiling fondly, Erestor ran his fingertips down the blade. “Arwen and Estel were married the day before I left Gondor. They are happy.”

But he wasn’t. “Damn it, Glorfindel, how do you expect me to continue without you? Did you ever think of that when you allowed yourself to be slain? You defeated Balrogs and Fire Drakes, but could not stand your ground against Orcs and Uruk-hai?” Angry, he slammed his fist into the earth. Ouch, that hurt, and the pain reminded him of his resolve not to break down. “I will be strong for you.” But being strong was so damn hard!

Looking over his shoulder, he made out Legolas’ form in the distance. Éomer and Legolas had built a small fire and were waiting for him to return, but he wasn’t ready yet to return to them. They had made camp in the courtyard of the Keep, allowing him to wander off and he appreciated their thoughtfulness.

“What do I do now, Glorfindel?” Briefly, he felt like he had gone mad at last, speaking his thoughts aloud, almost expecting the warrior to answer him. “How do I go on without you?” The tears that he had been fighting back for weeks now escaped his eyes and he angrily wiped them away. “Why did you have to die?”

Unable to remain in this spot any longer, he sheathed his sword, rose from the ground and marched toward the woods. These trees had murdered and devoured the Orcs that had dared to flee there, but they had long grown peaceful again and they would never hurt him.

Dwelling in their shade restored some of his peace of mind, but he remained restless. When he had first suggested visiting Helm’s Deep to Legolas, it had seemed a good idea, but now he wasn’t so certain any more. Why wasn’t the emotional pain lessening? His heart still felt like it was breaking apart!

Caving in, though he had vowed not to, he went down onto his knees, sobbing and softly calling out for Glorfindel. But his beloved was dead and would never return.

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“Do you think we should check on Erestor?” Éomer sat near the fire, and turned the rabbit they had caught earlier above the flames. He worried about the dark-haired Elf with the large, sad eyes.

Legolas shook his head once. “Nay, he needs his privacy.” Realizing Erestor’s façade might be crumbling right now, he wanted the advisor to have all the privacy he could wish for. Erestor would feel ashamed if they saw his despair. “He will return to us in time.”

Éomer shivered against the cold and pulled his cloak tighter around his body. “I don’t like being back here. The ghosts of the dead still linger here.” He felt haunted, paranoid even, remembering how many had fallen here. Boys, old men, and warriors alike.

“Then why did you insist on escorting us?” Legolas, who had been watching Erestor as he disappeared between the trees, now turned to look at the King.

Éomer shrugged his shoulders once, feeling much too old and tired for his age. “I couldn’t let you travel here alone, not knowing what you would find. I still haven’t had the time to restore the Keep to its former state and not all the dead have been buried yet. I didn’t want you to face this horrific sight alone.”

Legolas’ eyes narrowed. “You are concerned for us?”

“Aye.” Éomer nodded and averted his eyes, not wanting to see the expression in Legolas’ blue ones when he spoke next. “I know you lost many fellows and, even more importantly, a dear friend.” He had watched Legolas closely when they had buried the dead and had seen the shock and pain in the azure eyes upon tending to Haldir’s corpse. “And I also worry about him.” Éomer inclined his head in the direction Erestor had left in. “I saw the anguish in his eyes when he stood before me in the Golden Hall of Meduseld, requesting permission to cross my lands.”

Legolas’ eyes remained emotionless, but Éomer’s observational skills impressed him. “Erestor lost his mate. Glorfindel and he were lovers.”

Éomer sucked in a deep breath and took the plunge into the deep. “And how about you, Legolas? Did you lose a lover at Helm’s Deep as well?”

Legolas’ eyes narrowed further, revealing disbelief that Éomer had asked such a question. “What makes you say such a thing?”

“I was wondering about Haldir.” Éomer finally looked Legolas in the eye. “I saw the expression in your eyes when you held him in your arms and sang that last lament.”

“He was a good friend,” choked Legolas out, his voice raw and unforgiving.

“It is none of my business, of course,” soothed Éomer, “But this is the very reason why I wanted to accompany you on your journey. Erestor already grieves over Glorfindel and you… I wanted to make certain that no one else died on these fields – and certainly not another Elf.”

Legolas’ eyes flared. “Did you just say what I thought you said?”

“Sometimes, when we lose a loved one, we stop thinking rationally. Taking your life might seem like a solution, but it isn’t.” Éomer slowly rose from the ground and stood in front of the Woodland Elf. “I don’t know you very well, Legolas, but we fought side by side in the past. I feel a duty – an obligation – to do everything that I can to see the hurt healed.”

Legolas’ anger, which had flared brightly a moment ago, now dwindled. “I thank you for your concern, but do not worry. Neither Erestor, nor I will end our lives.”

“Are you certain about Erestor? Have you seen the longing in his eyes?”

“Longing?”

“Aye, he longs to be reunited with Glorfindel.”

/For a mere Man you are awfully observant,/ thought Legolas. Had he misjudged the Man in the past? He respected Éomer as a warrior, but realized he didn’t really know the person behind the warrior. The wind played with Éomer’s bronze curls and the tanned face looked kindly at him. There had been a spark of interest and attraction when they had first met, and he vividly remembered aiming an arrow at the Man. He had felt it back then – the tightening of his groin, the desire to bury his fingers in the wild mane – but he had held back, knowing pursuing a love interest was impossible in times of war. But the war had ended and he was still trying hard to keep his distance and not to get entangled in a web of love and attraction. He wasn’t ready yet to take such a step.

“Erestor will never take his life,” Legolas said eventually. “He knows Glorfindel would condemn such an act.” After pausing, he added, “You were right, Éomer. I cared about Haldir, but we were never lovers. He hails from the Golden Wood, whilst I call Mirkwood home. We were distances apart. But… There was a mild attraction and when he died…” Legolas swallowed, convulsively. “I did not want to return here either, but now that I am here I believe Erestor made the right decision. We need to let go, Éomer. We all do. We witnessed unspeakable horrors that night and we have to let the memories go. An age of peace has begun and we need to change with it.” *He* needed to change as well. Back at Edoras, he had desperately tried to keep Éomer from joining them on this quest, afraid his desire would flare again. And it had. The attraction was still there and he didn’t know how to act on it.

Éomer smiled, encouragingly. “Taking such a step demands a lot of courage.”

It was definitely time to change their subject, as Legolas wasn’t inclined to discuss Haldir or personal matters further at this point. “You are a King now,” said Legolas, smiling sorrowfully, realizing only too well that Éomer had suffered a great loss when Théoden had died. “And you have become a good ruler.” He recalled the self-doubt Éomer had failed to hide when he had been proclaimed King. For some reason the Man had been convinced he wouldn’t make a good ruler, but his subjects loved him.

“I try my best,” said Éomer, fighting a blush at hearing such praise. Maybe he had a chance to win Legolas’ heart after all.

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Oh, he didn’t want to do this! Angrily, Erestor wiped at his tears and pushed stray strands of hair behind his ears. He had wanted to be strong for Glorfindel and instead he had broken down! Drawing in a deep breath, he buried his fingers in the earth, trying to find something that would calm him down and give him the strength he needed to return to his companions.

Erestor began to rise from the forest ground, but then something hard collided with him and knocked him off his feet. Erestor didn’t have the time to panic as a sliding pain washed over him; only now did he realize that he had been flung through the air, and the back of his head had made contact with the hard trunk of an old oak tree. Whilst growing unconscious, he managed to catch a glimpse of long, dirty hair and shredded clothes. Everything then became dark around him as he slid into unconsciousness.

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What was this strange creature doing here? He had never seen him here before and he smelled alien as well. Crouching cautiously near the strange being, he stuck out a foot and prodded the now still body. When no motion was forthcoming, he grew slightly bolder and extended an arm, pushing the stranger further away from him. This being was an intruder and presented a danger to him, so he had to deal with this threat. Ignoring the pain that cut through his chest and head, he grabbed hold of the intruder’s clothes and began to pull him toward his hide-away.

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“I no longer see Erestor,” said Legolas, concerned for his friend’s well-being. “I lost track of him after he entered the forest.” He had sought out a higher point and now methodically scanned their surroundings.

“Can you still hear him?” Éomer came to a halt next to Legolas. The Elf’s enhanced senses would certainly lead them to the elusive advisor.

“The trees are whispering,” muttered Legolas, absentmindedly. “And I cannot make much sense of their murmurs.”

“There is no sign of Erestor then? How can that be?” Éomer opted for action and descended the stairs, walking toward that part of the forest in which Erestor had been last seen.

“The only thing I can think of is that he is hiding from us. But why would he do that?” Legolas followed Éomer, and found himself smiling at the way the wild curls moved against Éomer’s shoulder. For a mortal, Éomer was extraordinary attractive.

“We must search for him,” decided Éomer. “Too many Elves already found their deaths here.” Accusingly, he glared at Legolas. “You said he didn’t plan on taking his own life.”

“He never would,” said Legolas, steadfast. “Erestor is stronger than that. Something else must have happened.”

“These woods are safe,” said Éomer, still convinced Erestor had suicide thoughts.

“Maybe… Maybe not.” The trees continued to whisper, but Legolas was too worried and distracted to concentrate on what they were saying.

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What should he do? Tie the intruder up? But he didn’t have any rope and his clothes were already too shredded to use as restraints. Sitting on his heels, he studied the strange being. The long, ebony hair obscured the intruder’s features, and growing curious, he lifted part of the dark mane. He startled, finding chocolate, brown eyes staring back at him. For one moment he thought the stranger was awake, but the breathing was still too deep and slow for the intruder to be faking his condition. His prey was still unconscious.

Nervous, and fighting down a growing panic, he bit his fingernails, trying to come up with a solution. Did the stranger mean him harm, or not? It wasn’t the first being he had seen since he dwelt here, but he had never before been so close to one of them.

For moons now had he lived in this forest. He survived on berries, nuts, and occasionally he managed to catch a rabbit, which he ate raw as he had no means of creating a fire. As a result, he had grown thin, pale and very dirty. He had no recollection of his former life and only knew this existence.

Cautiously, he pressed a fingertip into the intruder’s abdomen, feeling the stranger breath. The heavy fabric of the riding cloak felt warm and he envied the stranger for possessing it. It could grow cold in the woods during the night. Maybe he should just take it? But no, then the other being would be cold.

Unexpectedly, a groan escaped his prisoner’s lips and he curled his fingers tightly around a large and heavy branch, ready to defend himself if necessary.

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Oh, what had just happened? And why did his head hurt? The memories returned in a rush and Erestor remembered being thrown off of his feet and being sent against a tree. Blinking once, he tried to focus his gaze, but a sliding pain erupted from behind his temples.

The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer beneath the open sky. He was looking up at some sort of ceiling and realized he had probably been dragged into some sort of cave. Groaning in pain, he tried to push himself into a sitting position, but violent growls coming from his right made him reconsider and he remained immobile instead. Of course, someone had knocked him off of his feet; but who? And why?

Another aggressive growl sounded from his captor, and he slowly turned his head to look at him. Who had abducted him? An Orc or Uruk-hai, who had survived?

His heart missed a beat, finding someone crouching next to him, holding a large and potentially dangerous branch in a very dirty hand. Hand, not a claw. So he ruled out the possibility of having been abducted by an Orc of Uruk-hai. Was it a human then?

“Peace,” he said softly, extending his hands, palms turned upward toward his captor. “I mean you no harm.” He got another look at his abductor and realized there was lots of dried blood and dirt in the matted hair. His eyes narrowed, taking in the origin of the clothes his captor was wearing; definitely Elven made. Could it be an Elf? Or a Man who had come upon a corpse and had robbed it of its clothes? Erestor couldn’t rule that out either.

Another growl sounded, but softer this time and the branch swayed precariously, as if keeping it up high was paining his captor. “Are you injured? I am no healer, but maybe I can help?” Erestor didn’t know what urged him to reach out to this being, but he did.

An angry hiss, a violent growl, and his captor lost his balance, tumbling backward. His attacker quickly lifted the branch once more in order to defend himself and from behind the curtain of dirty hair a pair of unfocused eyes blinked uncertainly at Erestor. “I mean you no harm,” Erestor repeated in a gentle tone. “I want to help.” Keeping his hands, palms upwards toward his attacker , Erestor crept closer, cursing the fact that the cave was too low to stand.

Now that Erestor was fully conscious and alert again he could literally smell the fear on his abductor. For some reason he terrified his attacker! “I am a friend.” But his words had little to no effect as his captor tried to crawl away from him. But his attacker’s back was already against the wall of the cave and the cornered abductor had no way left to go. “I won’t hurt you. It looks as if you have been hurt in the past though. Maybe I can help?” Extending his hand farther, Erestor tried to curl his fingers around his attacker’s wrist, but his captor pulled away, emitting soft noises, which clearly showed distress.

Then, after another fruitless attempt, Erestor finally managed to get a hold on his captor’s wrist. His attacker tried to twist away, but failed. “I just want to help.” But the words didn’t seem to register with his captor. “You can trust me.” Erestor ran his thumb soothingly over the inside of his attacker’s wrist and now reached forward, catching another hand in his.

His attacker tried to squirm away from him, but Erestor didn’t allow it. Erestor finally had a tight hold on his attacker’s hands and rubbed them in what was hopefully a reassuring manner. But then Erestor’s breath caught. Beneath the dirt, he found his captor was wearing a ring. A ring, which was awfully familiar to him. Erestor used his nail to clean off the dirt and then released his attacker’s hand in shock. His eyes widened, as he had recognized the family heirloom which he had given Glorfindel that morn before the Captain had left.

“Nay, this cannot be!” This wretched creature must have found Glorfindel’s corpse and had then taken possession of the ring!

Panic stared back at Erestor from the depths of those unfocused eyes. Blue eyes, he registered with a shock! Could that be? No, Glorfindel was dead! Legolas had returned the warrior’s sword to him! Glorfindel couldn’t be alive! It was impossible!

“I need to know for certain!” Paying his captor’s distress and growing terror little heed, Erestor grabbed him hard and pulled him into the weak sunlight that made it inside the cave. Resolutely, Erestor brushed the dirty mane away from the face. His heart thundered madly in his chest, as he definitely recognized the face, the eyes, and the scent buried beneath the blood and dirt. “It cannot be you!”

But it was… It was Glorfindel.