Anor was slowly rising, as though she wanted to avoid the morning. Eärendil appeared on the horizon blessing the sleeping world. None awoke. None at all. Besides one.

He opened his eyes slowly, his head pounding. Too many tears were shed last night. Too many tears over nothing. He would remain.

He turned around to greet his sleeping lover, the one he needed the most.

Nothing.

His shining body was not present. His gentle hands were no where near. His beautiful face did not rest upon a pillow. His golden mane did not cover his chest.

He jumped out of the bed looking around. His sword was gone. Frantically, he dug through parchments, books and clothes. His riding cloak was gone. He searched for eternal minutes until he stopped in the middle of the shattered room, his eyes filling with tears, his lips whispering but one word, over and over again.

"Glorfindel…"

He was running through the corridors, yelling but one name, waking everyone up, making everyone respond. But one. He opened every single door and broke those who were locked. He did not care for the frightened elves that ran away from this wild creature in a sleeping shirt, intruding their rest. He did not care.

All the warm candles extinguished long ago and yet not present Anor created a mist of illness in the air. His maniacal figure with eyes burning with haste seemed as a ghost to others. His untangled hair flew through the air as the cloak of the night.

A creature of the night. A demon. That was him. A demon in a rapid search for his loved one.

His swift pace brought him straight in front of his Lord's working chamber and its double massive doors. No one should be in. No one should be awake in this hour. Not in this hour cursed by all that was good.

~*~*~*~

He tucked the slender body to sleep, pretending he was resting himself. He kissed him over and over again. He tangled their fingers and kissed each one. That lean body deserved peace. His gentle lover deserved rest. He hugged him hard as he heard his breathing ease.

Strong words spoken just few moments ago rang in his mind.

"Do you know how many times I saw you die?!"

Tears appeared in his eyes just to the memory of the emotions he saw in his lover's face, in his usually warm dark eyes, after those dreadful words. It took him so many songs and kisses to calm the restless body after those words. Those dreadful words.

Truthful words. He saw it himself. In his dreams and in his wake. The choice was given to him in his young days. He could have stayed in Valinor and let others fight. The choice was set upon him; even Manwë spoke. He had seen fractions of his future lives before the choice. He had seen it. He had seen them. He had seen him.

The fairest of them all. The most beautiful creature alive. The lonely one. The pale long face that never smiled. Long dark hair that always danced in the wind as he rode, alone and oblivious.

He closed his eyes to the feeling. Manwë was so kind to let him feel that love. The black hair moving upon his skin; long fingers dancing, soothing his sprained muscles. Those soft lips resting upon his chin, cheeks, lips, neck, chest… Those lips smiling. He could feel that lonely soul all the way in Valinor.

"Erestor," he whispered with need as Manwë asked his choice. Even if he died, he would meet him; he would know Erestor.

He had seen his task and death, over and over again. Death over love. Love. Love forever; always love.

But this day has come, and his decision was hard. He knew what to do and yet love was too strong. His love for Erestor.

"I cannot let you go."

Why did he speak? Why did he say those words? He had but one task and a mere word from Erestor's mouth pained his heart so much. Made him curse all else.

He kissed the swollen lips; lips swollen with tears. He made a promise which he would now break.

"Goodbye, my love" were his final words. Erestor sighed in his dreams, surrendering to the kiss. Glorfindel wiped his tears. He would forgive, he thought. He hoped. Although, he knew they would not meet again in this world.

He turned around quickly, before his heart would break, silently searched through his things. Through their things. He took his sword, cloak and boots and walked out of their room.

Elrond awaited him in his study with all other necessities. He had arranged it all last night.

~*~*~*~

"My friend," Elrond touched his hair in the most intimate gesture shared between those two elves. Vilya changed her colour showing her master's distress. "Please…" A tear escaped the grey eye.

Emotionless face. Elrond's emotionless face showed emotions, or at least tracks of them. His grey eyes usually looked straight through those present, but maybe for the first time Glorfindel noticed those eyes looking at him. Watching him. Knowing…

Glorfindel's head fell into an embrace between two old friends. A friendship that lasted through millennia. And maybe for the first time did they react in any way.

"You know I have seen it, my friend," Elrond whispered calmly. "Why do you hasten your death?" Elrond's voice was sad, and yet so calm; as though he tried not to upset the other; as though he thought he could talk Glorfindel into staying.

Glorfindel broke the touch. "My life is mine to live." He sighed. "My reasons are mine to bear."

"There is no need to justify before me," Elrond answered calmly. Not one more tear escaped his steady gaze.

"My lord…" Glorfindel's voice was trembling and words were hardly coming out. "… Elrond, why do you wish to make it worse?"

"I wish only to help you." He was telling the truth. Somehow, Glorfindel knew it. His words brought pure truth, and pain.

The two friends exchanged worried glances until Elrond finally spoke. "Erestor?"

Glorfindel's eyes darkened in an instance, he was visibly shaken by that one word. That one and painfully strong word. He sighed. "He will live," he whispered through waves of pain. "If I stayed…" He was losing the fight with tears so he closed his eyes. Nonetheless, Elrond knew what bothered him. But he did not know how to help. Rare were occasions in which he felt helpless, and this was one of them. "I could not bear to see you die!"

"You know more?" Elrond asked and Vilya trembled warning them to haste.

Glorfindel searched through his pockets, not bothering to answer his Lord's question, until he found a crumbled piece of parchment. "Give this to him," he finally spoke, giving the paper to Elrond as he was surrendering a rare and precious jewel. "He should understand. You will live. He will live. I will see it happen." Glorfindel turned around, preparing to leave.

"And what about you?" Elrond asked with worry. Glorfindel stopped.

"Please," Glorfindel finally answered, trying to hide his trembling, "help him through."

~*~*~*~

Erestor opened the door swiftly to look into his lover's sad eyes. "Glorfindel…"

"No!" his voice yelled and he pushed Erestor aside, not finding enough strength to face him now.

Erestor ran after him, yelling. "Liar! You promised!"

He had to act cold. He had to be cold. For Erestor's life. He did not even look at the dark elf on his way towards the stables, Asfaloth and escape. "You cannot understand."

"Make me! I don't care!" Erestor frantically screamed following the strong warrior, scaring everyone residing within the walls of the House.

Glorfindel kept on walking steadily, ignoring his lover, ripping the need to kiss his tears away from the inside, painfully tearing himself apart.

Erestor continued yelling, oblivious of the worried faces others pointed towards the strange couple. He continued crying and accusing, pleading, begging, pulling, making Glorfindel lose the fight, making him drown in the strong emotions.

Muscular arms pushed him to the wall, painfully piercing his chest and shoulder. For the first time Erestor saw the fire in those blue eyes. They were burning, they were dreadful. He seemed twice of his size. His hair was like fire of Mordor, his breathing dark and strong. He was powerful. He was… what he was supposed to be. That child has killed before. That child would kill again, much more. "Erestor…" those gentle lips sobbed, "… let me go…"

Strong hands released him and he fell to the floor, crushed and confused with what had just happened, still not believing the strength in those gentle hands. He looked towards his frightening lover once more. He was gone.

~*~*~*~

The pale stallion noticed his master's distress. The animal protested for a moment, not connecting the distress with his kind master; but soothing words and pats calmed him. Glorfindel called his horse and he responded with few steps towards him.

He ordered the stallion to walk outside and eyed the long stables for Morwen, Erestor's black mare. He feared Erestor would follow him and wanted to take the mare with him. She knew how to come home, but he could not deny Erestor anything if he followed.

She was nowhere to be found. He hurried outside towards Asfaloth, thinking how perhaps Elrond acted sooner.

But calm Morwen was outside, her master already on her.

"You forget, my love," Erestor smiled victoriously, "I know the House far better than you.

"No!" Glorfindel yelled and jumped on his hose. "You will not go!"

"I will…" Erestor had to win this fight. He ordered to stand besides Asfaloth.

"I cannot defend you," Glorfindel's eyes turned dark with sorrow and distress.

"You don't need to defend me," Erestor's hand touched Glorfindel's. "You don't need to…" his whisper was broken with a sob. "Please…" His head moved towards Glorfindel's and their lips joined.

"Melethen," Glorfindel whispered through tears, "do not ask me things that you know I cannot deny you…"

Erestor sighed deeply, still not letting go of that golden hand. "Tell me to go. Look me in the eyes and tell me to go now, and I will leave; lie in our bed and stay there. I will not move until you are back. My love, just tell me to go."

Glorfindel looked at him. He closed his eyes to simply feel that touch of a hand. Like that long day back in Valinor. His beloved, lonely, perfect Erestor. He could feel their mutual desire to die in each other's hands. And he did not want to be alone, never again.

He smiled sadly. Maybe if together, they could look after each other, take care of one another. Maybe Erestor would save his life. A small hope, but a hope.

But he remembered Manwë's words. "It is your destiny, if that is what you choose. Your burden, yours alone."

He opened his eyes to face Anor's warm rays playing with Erestor's dark hair.

"No," he whispered, feeling his heart break as he squeezed that thin hand, "I cannot let you go."

Sindarin translations:

Melethen - My beloved