Title: The Jewel of Gondolin

Type: Fictional, slash

Author: Andrannath Mírdaneg, andrannath@hotmail.com

Rating: PG13

Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor

Disclaimer: If they were mine, would I waste my time writing about them?! Heck, I'd be BETWEEN them every freaking minute!!!

Beta: NONE!

Timeline: FA 510

Notes: This is actually my first work of slash ever. As it was horrible horrible horrible, and I've been told this has a potential (as being one of the first Gondolin ficcies ever *cough cough* please, let me have my 15min of glor(f)y :P) so I've decided to completely demolish and repair it and do something of it until I was satisfied (who'd say 15 min are all it takes?! :P)

Summary: The preparations for the Festival of the Summer begin.

Another note: There's loads of Sindarin and Quenya in here, as I've tried to show Erestor losing his sanity by slowly turning towards the language of his youth (a.k.a. Quenya). I've decided to place the meaning of every phrase in the brackets by the phrase. The literal meanings and all necessary information can be acquired under the "translations" section.







"He is not to be yours, Erestor!" He paced nervously up and down his small room. "You have no right thinking these thoughts. He is your lord, you are a servant; no less, no more," his voice became more nervous. "Be happy to have this honour, to serve such a great house." The words echoed the small room, and its owner could only hope no one could hear them, for now, he was far too occupied with his own battle to think of anything else. Why did he feel what he did? Was it normal, for any elf, to worship a great master and a lord, to love him in such manner?

His light grey robe danced around him as he moved, creating wonderful art of light on the surrounding walls. He always had the eye for simplicity, just the way he decorated everything he touched.

Silver embroidery on the bed covers, silver purged and made by him, during which process the only thought that ran through the artist's mind was how he would like to know if gold looked good with silver. He had imagined it too many times to admit, and the work had to be perfect. For he was a jewel smith of the House of the Golden Flower in the fair city of Gondolin.

Silver was his colour and he adored it. From the very first day his father showed him how to melt and cast it to the very last time he had made a ring for a noble woman or few buttons for a lord. He was the best at what he did, no one doubted that.

The mirror above the dark desk was cast out of one large silver plate, flowers intertwining around it, and all he wanted to see is his lord's golden hair reflect upon it.

"Birds and flowers," Glorfindel would say with a grin. "Of all the smiths we could find, the house of the Golden Flower chose the one who fascinates silver!"

"I am sorry, lord Glorfindel, I. if I, if you want, I can change." Erestor remembered his body trembling while gazing at the golden beauty.

"Master Erestor, I wouldn't wish you to change at all." The lord smiled. "My, you are an elf of rare skills and I am grateful for you." Glorfindel's voice was too serious for his form and Erestor could not help but blush like a child. He excused himself and left, to save that little dignity he had.

Once his lord had called him to repair his golden armour, and he spent days and nights touching it, mending every flaw, cleaning it, moving his fingers through every curve that followed its owner's body. As he closed his eyes, he could almost feel his chest, his skin, his muscles.

With a ferocious blow, the armour fell to the floor as Erestor opened his eyes and tried to gather his senses. He got up quickly and walked outside. He had to get to the cold midnight air, or else he would burn.

And there he was, walking peacefully, his golden hair so perfect in the starlight. Why was he so perfect? Erestor could not stop staring at him. Why was he so beautiful? Everything he touched turned to pure gold and jewels; everything he did, he did with love and such grace that not even the ones more noble than him possessed.

Erestor tried to be invisible. He was certain no elf would hear him standing there, in a perfect town, surrounded by mountains, whose peaks brought fear to any wicked blood. Above, a net of stars, each reflecting on Glorfindel's hair, each so wonderful, yet imperfect. All imperfect; all lesser when compared to the beauty of this creature standing there.

There was no light in the city, rare were still awake, except few guards marching the boundaries. Everyone was asleep and yet this beautiful elf came to take a slow stroll through no other place than this.

The smith gathered all his strength too keep his breath, for nothing should disturb the Jewel of Gondolin, his Jewel. He walked slowly, such grace in his every move; such simplicity in every note, and yet a spirit far more beautiful than the body, if something more beautiful than the body existed. He wore simple robe with no decorations, colour of his skin, while Erestor was in yet another shade of grey. This hidden garden was near Erestor's working chambers, and he wondered why his lord walked there with worried face. He thought no one liked "the smith's bushes" as they called this place, a place where Erestor would go to seek peace or inspiration.

"A beautiful night, master Erestor. A pity to spend it working, would you not agree?" Glorfindel spoke without even disturbing his glorious dance.

Erestor was shocked, speechless, far away from desired peace. He couldn't move; he couldn't talk. "I." he stuttered, obviously exhausted with strain. "Please, forgive me, herunya [(Q) 'my lord'], I couldn't. I didn't know you are here." He felt Glorfindel's eyes observing him, from his feet up, and he immediately looked down, closed his eyes, he couldn't face him, not now. "I will leave at once." He turned around and barely managed to whisper, "Gobacktowork."

"Master Erestor, would I come to your bushes, seeing the light from your workshop, not knowing you were here?" A soft, friendly smile appeared on Glorfindel's lips. "Tolo, aphado nin. [(S) 'Come, follow me.']" He signalled with his hand "You would do me pleasure."

Oh, yes, he would do him pleasure. He would spend nights and days bringing all the pleasures of this world to the perfection standing only few steps away from him. He shivered. "Ni. [(Q) 'I']" was the only thing he managed to stutter.

"Unless your work is too important to abandon it this sudden." Glorfindel added; a glance of disappointment in his voice.

"I." Erestor tried to make a step, to turn around; but instead, he set forward, "I am sorry. ÁÁvatyara nye [(Q) 'Forgive me']." He quickly disappeared behind the door. The fire was hot in there, and yet he was trembling.

Now recalling, was that a sign? Did, perhaps. "No!" His fist hit the palm of the other hand and he stopped pacing.

These thoughts were too strong. They would come and dwell in his brain, taking all his strength to fight them, and still, they would return, much stronger, stronger every time, slowly breaking him. "You cannot love your master. A servant is just a servant!" He sat on the bed, his hands touching the soft velvet.

Is this how he feels, he thought. His skin as soft as it looks like and his long and experienced fingers would slide upon it, gently teasing, only to make his master pleasure. Could he stroke his hair, hold his back firmly to help him in his ecstasy? His fists grabbed the cover, skin turning pale, his eyes closed, body trembling of mere thought of his love.

"No!" He opened his eyes in an instant, pushed the cover and got up. Even the bed betrayed him. But this escape was to no good, for he saw his drapings; light, almost white, with silvery shade. He had bought so much of that cloth. A high price, but beauty of no match, but one, of course. He was sitting in his room, cutting them, sewing them, measuring and repairing, so occupied by his work until a voice dragged him back to reality.

"Embroiding silver I understand, smith master, but sewing is another thing. Should I fire the seamstress and pay you more instead?" A golden head appeared behind the door.

Erestor was lost. In a hurry to stand and bow, he had tangled all the strings. Finally, as he set himself free, he bowed. "Please, I am sorry, my lord. What grace brings you here?"

"Master Erestor, why, always so formal." Glorfindel's voice was soft, like a father talking to his elfling. He was always so soft. "Do I need a reason to see a friend?"

"You are most kind, my lord," Erestor said humbly and bowed again.

"Master Erestor, I beg you, we are all just elves, and, for a thousandth time, do you not like my company?"

"My lord, how could you think that of me?"

"For I enjoy your company outmost." Glorfindel continued his talk not noticing the interruption.

"My lord, do not play games with me." Erestor chided himself for sounding so desperate. But he could not help it!

"Erestor." He walked closer, although not much is needed in something that small as Erestor's room. He could smell him; feel his breath, unequal, disturbing. He moved his hand to Erestor's chin, so they were forced to look at each other. "Erestor dear. So frightened of inexistent enemy. And all you have to do is relax, feel the world. A protocol is something I disagree with." Their bodies were so close they both felt something pull them near and Glorfindel just smiled "It would do me great pleasure if you would consider me equal."

They were so close, Erestor couldn't think of the time he was closer to his desire, and he thought he would faint. His knees would forsake him, and he felt blood running wild. He would burn unless he grabbed Glorfindel hard and started kissing him until he lost breath, breathed again, and continued doing so until the elf screamed. So close, Erestor could smell the apple his lord ate, water he bather in and flowery scent his hair had; he could just reach his arm and hold him tight, run his fingers through the golden hair until they would bleed of strain. So many images ran through his mind, memories he had tried to forget, over and over again, for this was his lord, and he could not even dream.

Glorfindel's fingers touched his hand.

"I." Erestor turned away "My lord Glorfindel, what do you say of the drapes? Should seamstress aid me? I bought this cloth, all they had, for you rarely see something as perfect." He grabbed the silky drapes with his hands clumsily, showing it to Glorfindel.

"Rare things are," Glorfindel added, although Erestor didn't notice the intrusion in his tenseness.

". for I will not need most of it, and, see," he pushed the drapes almost straight to Glorfindel's face, "rarely is something this perfect, and, maybe, I thought, you could. it is a good cloth." He was shifting it from one hand to another. "I didn't mean to insult you, herunya [(Q) 'my lord'], I just."

"Erestor," he calmed the elf with his hand, holding the palms with the cloth still "I am pleased to receive such wonderful gift. I thank you for this honour." He took the cloth, turned around and gracefully left the room, leaving Erestor with his thoughts and punishments.

He had to close his eyes, for everything reminded him of his beloved, but the memories and fantasies were stronger that way. He sat to his working chair, opened the desk drawer where he had placed three stones, one bigger than the other two. He looked at them, not believing how much they had reminded him of his master's eyes. The eyes he wanted to see happy, and if a worry would fall upon them, he would cure it in the evening. He would look into his eyes every second, see them turn dark with lust and gain satisfaction again, losing the veil of distress.

He held the stones in his hands, got up and went for the door and, as a command, once more repeated, "He is your master, you cannot love hi."

He opened the door with the free hand and met the most caring and warm gaze from two most beautiful blue eyes he has seen in his life.

There he was, in the twilight air, holding a candle in his hand; not that he needed one to see, but Erestor was grateful for the light of it, for it played marvellously on its bearer's face. He wore simple white robe and shone like a star. There was a veil of distress that was always there, one way or the other; but a gentle smile on his lips played another game. If it was possible, lord Glorfindel looked better than he usually would. Erestor bowed.

"My lord, what good brings you here in this hour of rest?"

"Is there anything better to do before sleep, but to enjoy your free time with dear friends? If they had time for you, that is." A slight and confusing smile played on Glorfindel's lips. Beautiful lips, wonderful lips, soft lips.

"Why would you not enter? Or knock? You must know I am always at your service."

"There were strange sounds in your room. First I thought you were asleep, then, it was just curiosity," Glorfindel added with a grin.

"Herunya [(Q) 'My lord'], how long have you been standing here?" Erestor asked in fear of his secret being discovered.

"My dear master Erestor, if you must know it, quite long." The face was so calm, so gentle, and the voice friendly, but a strange tint played in it.

There was a long silence after that, where Glorfindel peacefully waited for any response, any reaction, and Erestor just thought how his secret was discovered and his world would end. Finally, he managed to speak. "Luckily, we have all the eternity, so quite long is not much."

Silence. Glorfindel smiling.

"Now, master Erestor, if you could spare some time, would you do me pleasure and join me for a walk before bed?"

"Mal [(Q) 'But']." Erestor was holding his hand in a fist, until the jewels ached and reminded him of their presence "I was just on my way of installing these to your circlet."

"Very well then. A walk to your workshop." He showed Erestor the way with his hand, making enough room for him to stand beside him.

The two elves walked gracefully through gardens, whose light colours played with shadows of Glorfindel's candle. Erestor couldn't help glancing secretly to the calm figure beside him, watching the hair dance on the gentle breeze. Did he really know? Has he heard? Did he pretend now because he was embarrassed, or angry, or happy? No, he was everything but happy, he was embarrassed; trying to find words which would not hurt him and tell him he must leave. That would kill him.

"Master Erestor," he finally started, with strong tension in his voice, and Erestor felt like weeping, like begging, "Why are you so stubborn?"

Erestor was confused, for a silence came, and he knew not how to reply. He did not wish to guess the reason of that question.

"I'm sorry, my lord?" he finally spoke. Confusion was the mask he decided to bear.

"Have I treated you badly? Have I."

"Lau, herunya [(Q) 'No, my lord']! Never! I am sorry if I hurt or disobey you in any manner, I." Erestor interrupted, frantically creating pleading words.

"Then why do you call me by my title? Why do you see me as a master, while all I wanted of you is friendship?" Glorfindel turned around and those wonderful sea-blue eyes pierced his very soul.

"But. your title. your position. you. please, forgive me." Erestor wanted to burn with anger, but all he managed to do was stutter and once again hide into his little black shell.

"Master Erestor," he stopped Erestor's babbling with a smile. "My title is just a word. A word I dislike and never use myself. A word that has no meaning to me, for I do not deserve it."

"But, my lord, you have earned it; it is a respect for your deeds."

"Please, master Erestor, I beg you, that title is of my dislike. Do not use it with my name."

"I cannot change that, herunya [(Q) 'my lord']."

"Glorfindel! My name is Glorfindel! My name was given to me for others to use."

"Just as your title."

Glorfindel looked at him with serious face, then smiled, and softness filled his gaze. "You are stubborn, master Erestor, very! I have underestimated you. But I think us equal, I think us friends. Please, I beg you, say my name!"

"Then I have one demand, too." Erestor repeated with a smile. All of a sudden he felt humbled, although the words he had just spoken were far too open for someone of his position.

"Na iest líín, mellon níín [(S) 'As you wish, my friend']." Glorfindel grinned.

"Do not use my title, either."

Glorfindel's face turned back to serious expression. "But, master Erestor, you have earned your title with skills yet to be unmatched!"

Erestor had to laugh. It was a sound laughter, voiceful, singing, and gave such bliss to his face. Laughter which made Glorfindel smile in return and Erestor only prayed this elf to smile more often.

"Very well. Erestor. we have a deal."

"We have a deal. Glorfindel." Erestor barely pronounced the name that was holier than a sanctuary to his heart.

With few flashes, candle light faded and the two friends found themselves surrounded with darkness in front of Erestor's workshop. So many thoughts ran through his mind, he would take him, defenceless, here in the darkness, or play with him inside with the roaring fire this warm evening. So many ideas, so many possibilities, and none were allowed. Thankfully, that very dark that gave him ideas hid his blushed face from embarrassment.

"Is this work important, Erestor?" Glorfindel spoke with a wishful voice.

"I am installing these stones to your Festival circlet, remember? This must be done, and you will have it by the morrow, if you agree." Erestor started backing away from his lord.

There was silence and Erestor could see Glorfindel trying to make a response as his eyes flew from one side to the other and he bit his lower lip. Finally, he breathed out to say something. Erestor dreamed those words to be "Forget the circlet now, and finish me instead! Alas, all Glorfindel said was, "Fine, I will see you in the morrow. But do rest for I need you bright at the Festival." With a smile, he turned away and left. Not a word followed.

Erestor started his work shaking again, touched more than he ever remembered, he closed the doors so no one could disturb him, started a fire, and, waiting for it to burn, sat on the small wooden chair. He opened his hand holding three precious jewels, shaking as their holder, he looked at them for a moment, trying to fight the tears wanting to escape, and the last wave just broke him. The stones fell to the ground as he pulled his hands to his face, to weep in peace, as his body trembled with every sigh, he lost all the control, bathing in the emotions that took over his body.

This little world he managed to create for himself was tearing apart. His heart refused to listen to him. His heart! The very heart that was always cold and distant in any situation. The heart that allowed him to do any task, no matter its graveness. The heart that managed to keep him still and unhurt for so many millennia. That very heart decided to open up in front of an elf worthier than any jewel ever found in the caves surrounding the city.

And as he was finally done with mourning, he realized the time was passing and the job had to be done. He took the stones from the dirty ground and cleaned them, staring at his lord's and master's eyes once again. Oh, he would love to have him!

"Every year, on every Festival, you are dressed the same, my lord - your old robe and the House circlet. Yet, you always refuse change," Erestor remembered saying as his lord had called him to a meeting.

"Erestor vell [(S) 'dear']," Glorfindel laughed. "When you come to my age."

It was Erestor's time to laugh, which freed him of his bounds. "Do I have to remind the elderly lord that we are of similar age?"

"Oh, Erestor, please, don't! Am I already that old that I have forgotten laughter?"

That argument calmed Erestor, and Glorfindel cursed his tongue. "I guess you have every right in that, herunya [(Q) 'my lord']."

Glorfindel could see the wall the elf started building around himself, just as he thought he would finally know him without the mask.

"Erestor, mellon [(S) 'friend']." Erestor's eyes looked back up. "I trust you the most for I know you always mean well. Please, it would be my honour to have something of your making for the Festival. Will you be so kind and do as you wish?" He had to be careful with words for he wished not to hurt this friend so dear.

Erestor had spent days trying to find perfect jewels among the miners, trying to cut them in perfect shapes. He had molten the finest silver he possessed and finally, this night, the work would be done. The dark elf had made the best piece of art in his life. As the circlet was finished, he wiped it few times with his robe to take a good look at it.

The silver shone better than mithril and it was made perfectly. Every curve and every leaf and detail was right where it was supposed to be. The tiny leaves encircled the stones which seemed as though they were emerging as a berry from a small bush. It was perfect. It was beautiful.

It was barely good enough for Glorfindel to bear.

Erestor moved the fingers slowly, for the curve was of his lord's head, and he could almost feel the golden hair under his fingers. He could almost feel his fingers going down and touching the blue eyes, beautiful cheeks, soft lips. He could almost kiss him. Almost.

He noticed the first rays of Anor appear behind the sharp peaks of the mountains. The fire had extinguished long ago and the room started filling with the morning mist and chill. And only the light reminded Erestor that it was time for him to go to bed if he wanted to be reasonable enough for the tonight's festivity.

He hurried to his lord's chamber and left the circlet safely covered in his cloak as a small bundle in front of Glorfindel's door. For a moment, he pressed his ear to the heavy wood and heard soft sighs emerging from the room. Oh, how he wished for more courage, so he could open the door and join the beauty in his bed. Oh, how he wished and prayed for his hand to hold the knob and open it. But that did not happen.

Like a lonely wolf with his tail under his legs, Erestor walked dimly to his room and the deserved rest.

~*~*~*~

He woke up to a cheerful song, and realized he had overslept the day of preparations. It was evening and elves started gathering to celebrate the morning with songs and dance.

There was a knock on the door and a young voice spoke with hurry. "Master Erestor? Master Erestor! Lord Glorfindel sent me to gather you for the feast."

Erestor got up as soon as possible and yelled for the elf to leave without him. He searched through his belongings until he found the perfect garment he had bestowed many centuries ago. The wonderful velvet belonged to his father and this day he would wear it with pride for the first time. For the first time in his life he would cover his body in rich black fabrics with silver strings and lines.

He walked swiftly through the room and the gardens; through the streets, until he reached the main square filled with elves, some laughing, some talking and some singing gentle evening songs. More would join the singing later, now it was time for talk. But, he didn't see Glorfindel. He rushed among the crowd, watching carefully, and he was nowhere to be found; until, he saw him, and almost fainted.

Erestor's hungry eyes could feast upon the strong body for millennia. Glorfindel was. breathtaking. He was standing upright and straight as a pole, his perfect golden hair falling like water down his back. The only thing that restrained the golden tresses from falling over the perfect face was the silver circlet on his head. And what shocked him most was the fabric his robes were made of - the silvery white silk that he had acquired many ages ago, and gave to his lord. The silvery silk decorating the small window of his bedchamber. He could not believe that could be true. And yet his eyes would not stop staring at it.

"Erestor vunwain, estel níín [(S) 'Erestor dearest, a salvation']!" Glorfindel smiled upon noticing his smith. "One of the bad things of my position is that every father wants his daughter married to me," he spoke nonchalantly while walking away from the young maiden that kept him company only a moment ago.

"I cannot think of a better fate." Erestor looked him in the eyes "I mean, for the elleth [(S) 'Elf maiden']."

"Obviously, they share your view of facts, Erestor; but I have different thoughts than marrying for position," Glorfindel responded with a sigh.

"A position. I doubt that is the case, for the ellith [(S) 'Elf maidens'] admire you. Gerir veleth alle [(S) 'They love you']."

"They do not know me. They see what they want."

"They see what is right." Erestor's thoughts slipped his mouth.

"Why, it is a compliment. worthy of my admiration." Glorfindel laughed soundly and merrily.

"You are most kind, Glorfindel." Erestor smiled upon using the name.

The pair walked without thinking, letting their feet decide the way, enjoying each other's company. Glorfindel realized with joy that Erestor was slowly opening up; but he also knew he had to keep the conversation, for he feared Erestor's constant hiding.

Their slow voyage brought them to a small clearance, as they started reaching the far-out parts of the city, with less streets and houses, and more trees and parks.

"I have to admit it, Erestor, you are a true master," Glorfindel said with a smile. "I am glad you talked me into agreeing about the circlet." He paused. "You have out mastered yourself with it," he added with a grin.

"It was my pleasure," Erestor mused not really caring what he was saying. They have reached the deserted parts of the city and his mind had a hard time focusing on the things to be said, for it had a constant job of warning him of the decency of his behaviour.

"Who would say one could find so much pleasure in things of silver and gold," Glorfindel continued the meaningless conversation smiling even more.

"One could easily find pleasure in making things for those he loves," Erestor spoke and his face paled the moment his mind understood the words. A long and sharp silence followed.

"Erestor." Glorfindel finally spoke with a pleading voice which broke after that single word.

"Lau. ni. sa, tan náá. raica. [(Q) 'No. I. it, this is. wrong.']" Erestor wouldn't stop stuttering, obviously embarrassed ". Umin. [(Q) 'I do not']"

Glorfindel had to hold him by the shoulders to calm the elf down, for Erestor was disappearing behind one of his defences. And finally, as the elf stopped shaking and moving uncontrollably, he removed the tight grip and moved one hand to Erestor's chin, so their eyes had to meet. Although darkness and trees surrounded them, they could both see each other well.

Again, Erestor did not hear the songs that surrounded them. All he could hear were their breaths. He did not see the lights playing somewhere in the distance, for he had eyes for Glorfindel only. He did not sense the smell of the flowers, only Glorfindel's hot breath.

"Erestor," Glorfindel whispered eagerly. "There is no one who can hear us, no one to see and judge, only I, I alone and, as a friend, I would never judge you." He paused and sighed. "If there is anything you wish to tell me, please do! Iest gerin, si pedo! [(S) 'Please, speak']" Glorfindel's voice was full of emotions, many which escaped without him realizing, and all Erestor wanted to do was kiss those lips Although only the blind would miss the invitation, Erestor's veil of misjudgement deceived him. To him, it was a friendly gesture. Friends only. Friends. Nothing more.

"Herunya, ni. tan náá. meldo . [(Q) 'My lord, I. this is. a friend.']" He spoke no more, for the voice was stopped by the other elf's lips. A quick and soft kiss, just an invitation, not a demand, which lasted but a second and eternity all in one, and before Erestor realized the bliss he received, it was all gone. Glorfindel's sweet lips were backing away, as were his hands, which were gently caressing, one his cheek and other his neck.

"Erestor, you have to forgive me!" Glorfindel was frantic now, for he felt he betrayed all they have built for ages. "This will never happen again, you have to forgive me, it is a lack." Now he was stopped with a kiss, not the inviting but the demanding one. His wild hands that were flying madly through the air were now restrained with Erestor's body. His body was feeling the warmth of the other as he was holding his grip. Erestor's hands ran through his hair, carefully, not to move the circlet, and Glorfindel released his and placed them to his lover's cheeks. This kiss was far from a perfect one, but the emotions hidden behind it were obvious to both of them.

Slowly, Erestor's hand moved from the hair and touched Glorfindel's ear, which made the other smile, so their kiss was broken. Glorfindel kissed the other's nose and they both smiled.

"What fools we were," Glorfindel said with a smile, his eyes shining brightly.

Erestor wanted to run away for he could not believe it to be true. He wanted to speak also, but his lips would not form words. The only thing that suggested that he was present were his hands gently caressing Glorfindel's cheeks and the soft smile playing on his lips.

"Such fools," Glorfindel continued moving his wide palms to cover the long fingers of the other. He smiled again, showing his teeth.

Again, Erestor could not speak, but his hands moved gently over his lord's delicate face, trying to absorb every inch of the velvety warm skin of his flushed cheeks, perfect nose, soft lips, long eyelashes and strong forehead.

For only a few moments did they manage to share the gentle touch, and then all was stopped with the forceful blow coming from the other part of the city.

"My sweetest, are they putting fireworks for us?" Erestor's mocking voice whispered.

"This is no firework, nor is it good," Glorfindel answered with a horrified voice. He instinctively searched for his sword and, trying to gather his senses, ran towards the sound, followed by confused Erestor.

They were approaching the main square quickly. What waited there was far from all they had ever dreamed of, but they both knew they could not neglect their duties.

The hidden city was found and, unbreakable or not, it was doomed.

The skies turned to a dark shade of fiery red with black clouds ripping the dreadful light apart. It all happened in mere moments as the firedrakes and the beasts landed on the main squares, their horrible wings breaking the white towers.

Erestor was terrified. He knew he would be a burden to them all, but he did not know what to do or where to go. His mind was having a hard time processing the terrors happening before his eyes alone.

The hidden city was doomed.

They were all doomed.

"Follow me," Glorfindel's calm voice soothed him. His strong hand gripped his own and started pulling him. He became frantic, but he knew he had to follow. He knew he had to listen to his lord or else they might all end up dead.

Dead.

In a few moments they found themselves in the armoury and soon Erestor was fully equipped, although he was certain he could never use half of the weapons bestowed upon him. His eyes simply observed Glorfindel getting ready as quickly as possible.

"This is not happening," Erestor lamented, whispering every word with a fright that chilled everyone's heart. His lips spoke the words everyone thought of. "This is not happening."

Erestor followed his master as a fool. Everywhere Glorfindel was going, Erestor kept on following by the foot. No words were spoken. None were needed. They all knew the troops had to be assembled.

~*~*~*~

"A Eruchîîn, úú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas [(S) 'Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none']," Erestor listened to Glorfindel speak the words of encouragement to his troops. The soldiers nodded in their fright and continued with their work, spreading slowly as they marched through the beasts to save what was worth saving for.

And Erestor could not. His eyes followed his lord mostly and his body could not move. Every now and then, he would wield his sword, but the target was mostly missed. He could not believe that he had survived this long.

The towers were slowly falling one by one. The clear wells were boiling of the heat and he already felt like cooking underneath the heavy armour. His arms were gripping the heavy sword as though his life depended upon it. And he could not move.

And then all stopped. All the sounds stopped. All the movement stopped. All the eyes looked up to the burning skies to see them.

Balrogs.

Beasts.

Shadow and flame.

All hope was lost.

In their deadly dance through the burning and crushing stone, the main tower fell. Turgon fell.

"Nan barad [(S) 'To the tower']!" Erestor heard someone screaming, but he did not care. The heavy smoke and mist took control of his already beaten up body.

"Togo hon dad, Erestor [(S) 'Bring him down, Erestor']!" He heard another scream, and this time he was certain it was from his beloved lord. But the fright and the madness kept on growing.

All was lost. All was gone. Nothing remained.

The hidden city was discovered. The unbreakable nation was broken.

"Dago hon [(S) 'Kill him']!" The same voice spoke once more. This time it seemed as though he was so near. So very near. Erestor smiled.

Then all went black.

~*~*~*~

The endlessness of the darkness. The emptiness of the void underneath. He kept on screaming like a madman. He kept on begging for release.

He did not know where he was. He did not care. Endlessness. Eternity. He had never felt this way before. He knew he had a life. He knew it was somewhere. Somewhere far away. He knew there had been a past to accompany this past, but this past was bigger, longer. The eternity of emptiness was longer.

He heard a voice by his ears, if he had ears. Dark, foul, empty. "You are mine," it screamed. "You are mine," it whispered.

He looked around with whatever that was that he could call eyes. The ruins. The stones. The fire. The mist.

Death.

Amidst the destruction and darkness, he could see one trace of hope. And he knew it. He knew him. He prayed for him.

"Telitha i lûû dîîn [(S) 'His time will come']," another voice spoke. This one was calmer, more peaceful. "His time will come," it repeated. "Hebo estel [(S) 'Have hope']."

"Who are you?"

"Nuru ar cuilëë, alca ar morniëë [(Q) 'Life and death, light and dark']," the voice responded. "Fear not."

"Náámo?!"

~*~*~*~

He woke up screaming like he was mad. He had to leave! He had to warn him! He had to find him!

He had to go!

Two pairs of strong arms stopped him and he tried to escape, but he could not. Two gentle female voices spoke soothing words to his ears. He had to escape, but he could not.

"I shall not give you this life! This one will live!" he screamed. He wanted to escape, but he could not and all he had left were words. "This one shall live!"

"ÛÛ-osto [(S) 'Fear not']," the wind whispered.

"He shall live!" Erestor screamed in return, frightening the maids that tried to take care of him.

Then all went black.

~*~*~*~

From time to time he would wake up and fall asleep again. From time to time he would be sane enough to say a word or two, but he had lost track of time. He did not even care about it. There was something inside him that kept on ripping him apart and he could not understand what it was.

In rare moments of his sanity, the same peaceful voice would whisper soothing words to his ears. But he did not understand why.

Until one day, morning or night - he did not care - a woman sat by his side and spoke gently. "Are you well?"

He hand was soft and soothing and yet demanding. The hand of the kings. He opened his eyes slowly to meet the beautiful face of Idril Celebrindal, whose soft eyes brought hope to his heart.

"Are you well?" she repeated the question. "You are well," she commanded at last.

And he was well.

All of a sudden, his past returned to his mind. He remembered the dark, the flames, the fog and the heat; he remembered the sadness and the fear, and he even remembered the enormous beast approaching him as he could not move of fright.

He remembered the beast speaking to his mind. "You are mine," it said. He could not move.

"Togo hon dad, Erestor [(S) 'Bring him down, Erestor']!" He remembered hearing a voice behind him. He also remembered he should know that voice, but he could not be certain how or why.

"Dago hon [(S) 'Kill him']!" the voice repeated. And he also remembered the burning wound and the smell of the roasting flesh as a sharp pain ran through him.

Last thing he saw was the face of Ecthelion of the Fountain saving his life.

"Glorfindel?!" he twitched with pain as the memory awoke inside him.

Idril closed her eyes and a tear escaped through the lid and started flowing slowly down her cheek. Her hands holding one of Erestor's started twitching in gentle sobs running through her body.

"Morn [(S) 'Dead']," she spoke.

"Qualin [(Q) 'Dead']," Erestor whispered and closed his eyes with a wish that they never open again. "Vanwa [(Q) 'Lost']," was the last word Idril Celebrindar heard.



Sindarin translations:


Tolo, aphado nin - Come, follow me

Na iest líín, mellon níín - By your wish, my friend

Erestor vell - Erestor dear

Mellon - Friend

Erestor vunwain, estel níín - Erestor dearest, my hope

Elleth - Elf maiden

Ellith - Elf maidens

Gerir veleth alle - They hold love for you

Iest gerin, si pedo - I have a wish, now speak

A Eruchîîn, úú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas - O Children-of-Eru, don't show the mercy to them, for nobody will-show you mercy (TTT movie, by David Salo)

Nan barad - To the tower (TTT movie, by David Salo)

Togo hon dad, Erestor - Bring him down, Erestor (TTT movie, by David Salo)

Dago hon - Kill him (TTT movie, by David Salo)

Telitha i lûû dîîn - His time will come

Hebo estel - Have hope

ÛÛ-osto - Do not fear

Morn - Dead



Quenya translations:


Herunya - My lord

ÁÁvatyara nye - Forgive me

Mal - But

Lau, herunya - No, my lord

Lau. ni. sa, tan náá. raica. - No. I. it, this is. wrong

Umin. - I do not.

Herunya, ni. tan náá. meldo. - My lord, I. this is. a friend.

Nuru ar cuilëë, alca ar morniëë - Life and death, light and dark

Qualin - Dead

Vanwa - Lost



Andrannath Míírdaneg
Owner of Erestor's hunting knives, Keeper of Lindir's harp, Wielder of Elladan and Elrohir's *cough* hidden *cough* weapons and their love, Official Guardian of Enismirdal's smile and Gwyllion's pastels.