Title: Secretly Possess You
Author: Vesta/IgnobleBard
Rating: R (tried to make it all pg-13 but it didn't work *sigh*)
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor
Genre: AU!!!!
WARNING: Psychological disturbance, mind control.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. Song snippets belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber from Phantom of the Opera.
Beta: My wonderful IgnobleBard (Mike)
Summary: Glorfindel suspects that Erestor is falling into darkness.
A/N: Mike and I collaborated on this fic when I showed a desire to
actually write just a pwp, he convinced me to write more. I write
this and release it in honor of the Phantom of the Opera coming out
in theatres on December 22nd, with Gerard Butler playing the Phantom and Emmy Rossum as Christine Daae.

GLORFINDEL'S POV!!!!



Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation
Darkness wakes and stirs imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses
Helpless to resist the notes I write
For I compose the music of the night

When did I first notice the transformation within myself? I cannot
say. All I know is that my feelings for him were not sudden, nor was
my attention abruptly focused upon him, but rather I was gradually
drawn, like the spying of an abyss within a mountain crevasse draws
one to look down into the darkness to try to discern what lies below.

He had always been an enigma, even to those who knew him well,
exuding a quiet, studied darkness - dark hair, dark eyes, dark
robes. Always was he observing, always watching, always knowing,
taking everything in but revealing nothing in return. But the most
intriguing of his secrets was his mask, a black mask that covered
the right side of his face from forehead to chin. No one seemed to
know why he wore it, and never did he speak of it. It was whispered
that it hid a terrible disfigurement, though whether one borne from
disaster or accident no one knew. I tried to speak with Elrond on
this, but he would only say it was not his tale to tell.

Despite his cool, detached mien, ever had I held a deep respect for
him - for his abilities as Chief Councilor to our Lord Elrond. Yet
we had never been close, nor did I think we ever would be. We both
served Lord Elrond and those of the Last Homely House and that had
ever been the extent of our relationship.

So when did this dark, enigmatic beauty work his way into my mind?
At first it was only our daily contact in the business of Imladris
on which I attended, but gradually I found myself thinking on him at
odd hours of the day or at night when I wandered the gardens. I
began to notice him more often, how he moved, how he spoke, and my
fascination grew. And then I became aware that his long hours spent
in the library hid a fascination of his own.

Entering the archives to look for a tome on Gil-Galad I wished to
reread, I found him replacing a book upon the shelves. He turned and
saw me standing there and I could see something pass through his
eyes - anger, guilt? I could not say the look fled so quickly. He
passed me, nodding a greeting and I greeted him in kind, but when he
had left, I saw the section of the library he was browsing was the
one where books and scrolls of dark and arcane lore were kept. It
was a section of the library off limits to all but those of Elrond's
council and there would have been nothing particularly unusual about
Erestor looking in that section had it not been for the look in his
eyes when he saw me.

Moving to the shelves, I could easily tell which book he had been
perusing by the lack of dust upon it. I removed it and found it fell
open to a page containing a history of the Wizard's Council,
specifically their assault on Dol Guldur. The reason it was in the
section on dark lore was that it was a copy of the history written
by the Mouth of Sauron, pages that had been salvaged from the rubble
of Mordor by one of Faramir's men. Why would Erestor be interested
in such a history and why would he not want another to know of his
interest?

The thought plagued me for the next few days, to the point where I
even considered taking up the matter with Elrond. I decided against
it when I realized there could be any number of reasons Erestor
might seek out such a history, including doing research on Elrond's
behalf. The fact that the Lord of Imladris had not discussed the
matter with me was not, in itself, reason to suspect Erestor's
motives.

Still, I felt the matter bore observation and so I started to watch
Erestor more closely. I observed him when he thought he was alone,
watched as he went about his daily business, managed to make his
every notice of my closeness seem only an accidental overlap of our
respective schedules, noticing how often he frequented the library
and slyly checking after he had left to see which books and scrolls
he had accessed.

And all the while my thoughts were troubled, my dreams haunted, as
though I were falling under a spell. Elrond noticed my distraction
and questioned me briefly but I could not tell him of my suspicions,
not yet, not without more evidence.

I became obsessed with discovering his secret and so tried to get
closer to him, to befriend him, but he remained as cool and
impenetrable as ever. The less he gave, the harder I pushed and
found he then started to avoid me, changing his routine, making it
more difficult for me to keep track of his whereabouts and
activities without risking his detection. I wish I could say that my
obsession was born solely of my sense of duty to land and Lord, but
it was more. It was him that filled my thoughts, dark desire for the
touch and scent of him that dismayed and mystified, even as I fell
under the dark spell of it that wove its way around me.

Then the day came when I chanced to see him leaving the library with
a scroll and book in his hands, glancing secretively around to see
if any were watching. Fortunately he failed to see me from my
vantage point on the landing above. Waiting until he was out of
sight, I slipped down into the library and went to the shelves of
dark lore. There was, indeed, a scroll and book missing from the
shelves, though another book had been put in its place, a book of
general history. Now I had my proof, I thought with excitement, for
it was forbidden for any, even Lord Elrond, to remove dark lore from
the library. A word now would surely mean banishment! A jolt of
triumph shot through me - but just as quickly turned to gloom.

Banishment - and he would leave Imladris and I would not see him
again. As soon as the thought came I felt sick, wretched. An
irrational urge gripped me, an urge to chase him down and warn him,
beg him to return the items lest Elrond find out. Then I realized I
was the only one who knew. If I told no one, he would not be sent
away. If only I could have found out why he was studying such
dangerous subjects, if only he would have opened up to me I could
protect him now... I shook off these thoughts. Elrond had to know,
there was no other way.

I left the library, intending to seek out Lord Elrond, but found
instead my steps had taken me to the garden. Ithil shone full and
high above and a soft breeze, scented with the night blooming
flowers of the garden, ruffled my hair. I breathed deeply and
exhaled slowly trying to resolve the conflict between what I knew to
be right and my reticence to act upon it, knowing the consequences
for the Councilor. I stood for a long time, thinking and weighing
each possibility before I finally made my decision. I strode
purposefully into the Last Homely House and took the corridor to
Elrond's chambers. Rapping lightly on the door, I was greeted by a
familiar voice.

"Enter."

Elrond was in his study as I entered, sitting at his desk even at
this late hour, working.

"My lord," I said, "I have an urgent matter that begs your
attention."

At my tone, Lord Elrond raised his head and looked at me with eyes
that seemed to pin my guilty thoughts to my troubled soul, as a
butterfly is pinned for display.

"What is wrong Glorfindel?" he asked.

"It... it is Erestor, my lord, I fear I have some troubling news
about him."

Elrond put down his pen and sat back folding his hands and looking
at me expectantly.

"Go on."

"He has something in his rooms, something forbidden. I saw him take
a book and scroll from the dark lore section of the library tonight."

"Tonight?" I fear that can not be possible Glorfindel, for Master
Erestor was here but a moment ago and he gave me this." Elrond held
up a book that was lying beside him on his desk. "He told me he took
this from the library tonight, he thought I would find it
interesting and brought it by for me. There is a section here on the
Maiar he recommended. This must be what you saw him take."

My eyes popped to see the book Elrond held. It was the history I had
found misplaced. Mumbling an apology, I all but ran to the library.
Upon the shelf I found a book, previously missing, with a title
written in an archaic form of Quenya. There also, in its assigned
place, was the scroll Erestor had taken.

I felt a wave of dizziness engulf me. He must have known I'd spied
him, how I could not fathom, and replaced the evidence while I
debated his fate. Who was this Erestor and what dark powers did he
possess that allowed him to sense the danger of exposure? I was more
determined than ever to find out.

And so I waited. For days, weeks, I did nothing, I returned to my
routine and ignored him as much as my tortured thoughts would allow,
waiting for an opportunity. Finally fortune favored me when I saw a
page running a message to Erestor's rooms. I stopped him and offered
to take it myself, telling him it was on my way. The page handed me
the message and I looked it over; it was sealed with Lord Elrond's
seal. The hour was late and I knew Erestor was unlikely to be in his
office.

I would simply take the message and leave it on his desk and if he
happened to enter, I had a plausible excuse for being there. This
would give me the chance I had been waiting for. I knocked lightly
and receiving no answer, I slowly pushed the door open and called
out his name. He was not there.

Looking around, I spied a stack of books that had been placed to the
side of his desk, which were covered in black cloth. My stomach
clenched in excitement and fear that I was perhaps close to
uncovering his secret at last. I slowly removed the cloth and
frowned at what I saw.

The books were not from the library as I had expected. They were
bound in leather, leather that was stiff and peeling with age. They
were tomes of immense size and the runes upon the front were as
archaic as the books themselves.

Something told me I did not want to see what was inside, but I could
not help myself. I felt as if a spell was once again weaving its
dark fingers deep into my mind. When I touched the cover, I recoiled
as if burned, but not from heat. A burn of the deepest, darkest cold
was upon my skin, but I could not pull away. I had to see.

I opened the first one randomly and started to read the ancient
runes - runes that had not been used in millennia. My breathing
became rapid and my eyes stared unblinkingly at the page. Horror
gripped my soul and my breath froze in my lungs. Single words seemed
to catch my attention as I read. Single words that filled me with
terror, but there was one word that I could not tear my eyes from as
memories washed over me - Balrog.

************************************************************

Fetid stench as blazing horror fills vision. A challenging scream
and an answering bellowing roar. Fiery stench of noxious corruption
fills the nostrils as white heat rends flesh, the flaming whip
sundering, flaying living muscle and bone. Shriek of horrific pain
as sword plunges to the core of flame and shadow.

Flesh melting from bones like an ice crystal in a candle's flame.
A
final cry of triumph as creature falls into the abyss and then
weeping eyes widen in horror as fire-scorched golden hair is
grabbed. Screech of un-imagined, blistering, soul-shriveling pain -
death.

********************************************************

When I was at last able to rip my eyes from that horrific page I
stumbled backward and hit the wall, sliding down to cower in the
corner. I know not how long I was there before the silent whispers
finally died within my head, but when they cleared and I came to my
senses, I knew I had to get out. Swallowing the gorge that rose in
my throat, I made my way back to the book. I had to leave things as
they were when I had found them. Using a boot dagger, I closed the
tome and then covered it once more with the cloth, relief flooding
through my soul when it was finally hidden from my sight.

"May I help you Lord Glorfindel?"

I yelped and spun around, my heart pounding in my chest at having
the masked Elf appear so suddenly. Guiltily I lowered my eyes and
mumbled, "I have a missive that arrived from Mirkwood. Lord Elrond
asked it be delivered to you."

He nodded and held out his hand and I almost flinched away,
forgetting for a moment that I bore the message in my hand. I handed
over the sealed parchment and watched as he broke the seal, read it,
and nodded. He looked up at me and I could not help but notice the
quick glance he sent over to the books.

Again I felt my stomach twist to realize he knew I had looked, I
could see it in his eyes. My stomach clenched in terror and I hoped
he would not notice my fear.

"Is there anything else Lord Glorfindel?" he asked coldly.
I shook my head and quickly left his offices, my heart racing within
my chest.

Once outside his office, I ran. I ran through the halls and out into
the gardens. I ran further still until I reached the safety of the
woods - and then I retched.

As I spilled the contents of my stomach onto the ground, it purged
me of my terror. It took from me the horror I had felt at reading
the contents of the huge book, and it gave me a new resolve. I had
been brought back to Middle Earth to serve the family of Earendil
and Elwing as their protectors. I was there to protect Lord Elrond
and his children, and protect them I would. I would discover what
Erestor was doing; why he was reading books that dripped with evil,
why he was reading the diaries of Morgoth himself!

I went to my rooms and tried to calm my shattered nerves, but rest
would not come so I sought solace within the rose gardens. The
blooms, so beautifully vibrant in the light of Anar, looked bleak
under Ithil's silver beams, the color of old blood, of funerary ash.
Yet their gentle fragrance remained, blissfully so.

Seeking my favorite bench I was dismayed to find someone else
occupying it. Not being in the mood for company, I stayed hidden
within the shadows as I watched him. The being was perfect. He was
dressed in tight black leggings and a shirt that was left open to
show a pale chest. His feet were unshod.

I watched him with fascination and surprise for he had not the body
of someone used to a sedentary life, but that of a honed warrior. A
warrior who was battle hardened and ready to take up arms at a
moment's notice. I watched as normally unbound hair was tied back
into a long thick plait that hung down to the tops of his thighs. I
grew curious as he stood and picked up two twin fighting blades. I
had to contain my laughter, for this would be amusing to watch, but
soon my eyes grew wide once more.

He was magnificent.

He was grace in motion as he went through a simple set of exercise
routines, but he was pure liquid mithril when his fighting positions
became more complicated, more balletic. His form was exquisite, and
I had never seen another so well in tune with their fea, so in tune
with the blades. Not unless they had undergone special training -
the training of an assassin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Knowing I could not hide my interest in Erestor's actions, I resumed
my watchfulness hoping the fact he was being watched would deter his
dark schemes. Then I became aware that, even as I watched him, he
was also watching me. I could feel his dark eyes following me
everywhere I looked, everywhere I went. I felt my eyes drawn to him
continually, our eyes constantly meeting and holding until I looked
away with a flush on my face. He was weaving a spell around me. This
I knew in my heart, I could feel it, and I was powerless to stop it.

Then there were the dreams, dreams which shamed and horrified me,
dreams I knew he shared with me from the look in his dark, depthless
eyes and the sensual smile upon his masked face, dreams that filled
me with a sinister lust, a dark longing to be his.

I followed him, lurking out of sight, hiding in shadows as he
passed. It had become a game, for I knew my presence did not escape
him, though I noticed it seemed to reduce the time he spent in the
library.

I stalked him out of my sense of duty to protect Lord Elrond, to
protect Imladris, or at least that is what I convinced myself. It
had nothing to do with my obsession for him. It had nothing to do
with his dark beauty or the way he made me feel when he looked at
me.

My secret thoughts, erotic and disturbing, were just that, a secret
that no one need know. I did not love him. I did not want him. My
only interest was for my duty.

The dreams continued, and they grew darker. I was filled with a
dread I could not name. I dreamed of fire and shadow, of sensual
lips, dark eyes, and soft skin. I would wake screaming in terror,
covered in sweat, my thighs steeped in the vestiges of my lust. I
felt as though I was being pulled into a dark abyss and could not
claw myself back to safe ground. I needed this to stop, but I was
weak. I had become addicted to him, to my lustful thoughts, to my
dreams.

I awoke with the ghost of a song on my lips, fading swifter than my
dreams, dark, seductive, indecipherable. I felt like one haunted by
a memory of something never experienced, a trace of an unformed,
ominous thought. What is it that drew me, leading me to act in ways
heretofore counter to my nature? What was it that lingered just
beyond the border of thought? It was not the memory of my death, not
entirely, of that I was sure. Yet I knew not what name to give my
fear, my steadily growing compulsion that seemed somehow centered
about the arcane power of that mysterious Elf.

I avoided my rooms, for I found no peace there. Instead I went into
the forest to meditate. Choosing a place where I was least likely to
be disturbed, I opened a phial of healing scent and settled into the
position, legs crossed, hands palm up and opened upon my thighs. I
focused within, searching out the island of calm in my tempestuous
soul. Finding it had become more difficult of late, but I eventually
reached the place I sought and felt a sense of peace spring up from
within. For a long while my mind sought gentler paths, and I
followed them willingly, roving farther and farther until...

A sound close by and I was on alert at once, up on my feet, my hand
close to knife. I stood listening for a long while but heard
nothing. My peace was shattered, my troubles flooding me like a
torrent loosed from a spring-warmed mountain peak.

For long moments I waited, straining to hear the sound again but all
was silence. I pocketed the oil quickly and drawing my weapon as a
precaution searched the surrounding area for a time. No trace of Elf
or other creature could I find and I finally gave up.

My mediation interrupted, I found myself in a wearied and irritable
mood. Stalking back to the Last Homely House I sighed and headed for
the Hall of Fire, thinking a lively tune or humorous poem would
surely lighten the heaviness of my thoughts. On the way I saw Lord
Elrond coming along the corridor from the other direction. He seemed
agitated and hurried to speak to me.

"Have you seen Master Erestor, Glorfindel? I have been searching for
him for several hours but no one seems to know where he is."
I shook my head curtly. "I do not keep up with Master Erestor's
whereabouts," I said, a little more brusquely than I had intended.
Elrond narrowed his eyes and looked me over as I hastily
replied. "But if I see him I will tell him you are seeking him, my
lord."

Elrond did not speak for a moment and I had felt his gaze pierce me
and the small twinge I felt whenever he used his ring of power to
penetrate my thoughts. He never used the ring to invade the privacy
of others or seek what was hidden, just enough to tell if one was
troubled or had something they were trying to hide. In my case it
was a bit of both.

"You look tired," he had said at last. "Is there something I..." he
hesitated and I knew what he meant, was there something for which I
needed counsel or healing.

I quickly shook my head. "I am going to the Hall of Fire to see what
new songs Lindir has composed for this evening. A bit of light
entertainment is all I need, my lord." I bowed and took my leave.
I had spent several hours at the Hall of Fire listening to
Lindir's sweet voice and the tales that were told, but they did nothing to
soothe me. My mind was ever on Erestor. Where could he have gone? It
was odd for him to be missing for so long. Sighing in resignation,
knowing I would find no peace here either, I got up to make my
rounds of the house before retiring to my rooms.

I frowned when I reached the family wing where my rooms, as well as
Erestor's chambers, were located. Sitting outside his door were his
boots, waiting to be picked up for polishing, covered in mud and
leaves. I felt something twist in my gut but I could not figure out
exactly what it was. I went to knock on his door to talk to him, to
tell him Lord Elrond was looking for him, when I heard it. My
stomach clenched in sickening tightness and my hands flew to my ears
to block out the evil words.

Erestor was chanting...

`Dragulur ob ghaash -izg urdanog lat u zo.
Nudit dragulur ob Morgoth ghaash -izg urdanog lat u zo.
Futhurz!
Daggog u izg urdan!'

I slumped to the floor, unable to move, to run, pain stabbing
through my ears like knives. Unwillingly I heard him repeat the
chant over and over. It took all my will not to cry out in terror,
in agony. My tortured thoughts were bent on warning Lord Elrond,
telling him of the traitor who dwelt within the house, but I was
fixed to the spot. Slowly, excruciatingly, I stood, swaying.

Darkness engulfed me and when next I awoke, I found myself lying in
bed, blood trickling from my ears. I had been moved to my rooms.

*****************************************

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor

Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender

Hearing is believing, music is deceiving

Hard as lightning, soft as candlelight

Dare you trust the music of the night


I looked around in confusion, knowing something was wrong, and then
I remembered. My stomach roiled at the mere thought of what I had
heard, and my head throbbed painfully. I put a hand to my ear and it
came away red. I leapt to my feet, then immediately regretted the
action as a wave of dizziness washed over me.

I grabbed the bedpost to steady myself and waited until the feeling
passed. When it subsided, I staggered to Elrond's chambers and
pounded desperately on the door. He bade me enter and I did so, the
door banging against the wall and startling both Elrond and myself.
I closed it, and leaned upon the thick wood for support. My lord was
watching me with concern as I made my way to him at last and
collapsed into a chair.

"Elrond, as Captain of the Guard, and your Seneschal, it is my duty
to inform you of an evil in our midst." I blurted, accepting the
cloth he handed me to dab at my ears. Elrond's face was grim, one
eyebrow raised in his typical fashion.

"What has happened Glorfindel?"

"Lately I came across, quite by accident, some books Erestor has
secreted in his office..." I paused. How to explain the lapse
between my discovery of the tomes and my reporting of the discovery?
I could not tell Elrond how the discovery had nearly unhinged me,
how the words I'd seen haunted me still, so I hastened on, hoping he
would not broach that particular subject.

"The books contained dark lore, my lord." I pressed. "I know the
possession of such is forbidden and would have come to you
immediately, but seeing the words, excerpts from Morgoth's own
diaries!" I halted, realizing I was nearly shouting. Composing
myself, gathering my thoughts, I went back to the beginning...

"Erestor has been researching the dark sections of the library, my
lord, and I have been watching him to see why. Do you recall the
night I came to you, saying he had taken one of the books? Well, he
replaced it, he knows I've been observing him, he's been covering
his tracks, but now I have proof and you must see. He has them in
his rooms and his rooms must be searched at once. Morgoth's diaries,
my lord, do you understand? They are written in an ancient form of
the Black Speech! I could not read them fully but the words I could
make out were... evil." I was ranting now, I could hear it, but I
plunged on, needing to get it all out. "And last night as I was
walking my rounds, I saw mud on his boots. He was in the forest,
watching me, spying on me. I know it! I heard him speaking and
listened at his door. I could hear him inside, chanting."

"Chanting?" Elrond asked with a frown.

"Aye, my lord, the... the Black Speech of Mordor." I spat out with
disgust.

"So you suspect my most trusted advisor of treason. You have been
spying on him but say it is he who is spying on you. Your evidence
is finding books of forbidden lore in his office on "accident" and
hearing him chant in the Black Speech. Have I left anything out?"
Elrond's cool demeanor puzzled and agitated me. It was almost as
though I was the one under accusation. "No, my lord," I said
tersely, "all you have said is true. If you will but search his
rooms you will find the evidence for yourself... unless he has
hidden it or denies it."

"And if nothing is found, if he denies any evil intent, what would
you have me do?" Elrond asked, getting up and pouring us both a
glass of wine.

I looked at him, stunned, then shouted "Question him, use Vilya if
need be to uncover the truth! Even if his only intent is research,
what he is doing is dangerous; it can bring ruin to your house, to
Imladris. You can not risk it my lord."

Elrond sighed and sipped his wine. "Glorfindel, Erestor is a lore
master even as I. What better way to defeat evil than to study it,
to learn its ways?" He looked at me with a penetrating gaze. "Vilya
senses evil within Imladris at all times, not just upon my will. If
there was danger here, I would know it."

My jaw had dropped. "But my lord, you do not mean to say that you
condone him chanting in that cursed language for all to hear, and
what of the books he has secreted? There is a reason those books are
forbidden, is there not? It is you who crafted the law."

Elrond's eyes flashed. "Thank you, Seneschal, for reminding me of
the law. I will look into this matter, but I will not deny Erestor
the freedom to research what subjects he will. As for
the "chanting", I will speak to him firmly; tell him to be more
discreet."

"Discreet!" I cried. "But my lord...!"

"That will be all Glorfindel." Elrond broke in. "You are dismissed.
I thank you for your service in reporting your suspicions." He
walked to the door and opened it, looking at me pointedly.

I sat for a moment staring at him in astonishment, then rose and,
with a curt bow, took my leave. If Elrond refused to act upon my
word, he must also be under Erestor's spell. I shook my head at the
thought. No, Lord Elrond was right, Vilya would warn him, protect
him, unless... Could Erestor's dark influence have grown so great as
to subjugate a ring of power?

The thought made me reel. If Vilya was compromised, then I was the
only one to stand against Erestor. It was imperative that I stop him
before he brought the Last Homely House to destruction. As Captain
of the Guard I would do my sworn duty to protect this valley and the
life of my liege lord. To do this I must investigate Erestor, find
out where he had come from, what his ties of land and family were
before his arrival in Imladris, for no one I had spoken to seemed to
know anything about his past.

I would uncover the truth about why he was so interested in the dark
arts of Morgoth. I would find out why it was that, when we Elves
find it painful to hear the Black Speech, Erestor could speak it
freely. To conquer evil one must study it, Elrond had said. Well
study it I would!

Resolving to cast off the darkness that had grown in my thoughts,
the fear and revulsion that haunted my rest, I returned to my
chambers and lay down, working out my plan of attack. I knew it was
useless to question the inhabitants of the Last Homely House, or
indeed any Elf in Imladris, for no one knew anything about him -
with the possible exception of Elrond himself - and I knew now that
would prove a dead end.

Instead, I would look in the archives. I knew they must contain
records of him, as surely they did of every Elf, a trail that could
be followed. All I had to do was find these records in Elrond's vast
collection of histories and family trees. As I lay thinking upon
these things, I drifted...

*********************************************************************
*********
Fire without illumination, darkness without night, torment without
comfort - a shadowy creature clawing its way through a soul of
brightest light, leaving the blemish of darkness showing through the
tatters. Darkness engulfing a soul as black eyes and an emotionless
mask flash before tormented eyes. Cries of torment as darkness seeps
into veins, slowing blood flow, turning blood to ice.
Warmth displacing cold as grasping fingers tear and rend flesh,
causing blood to flow anew. Flesh and spirit torn - torn between
light and dark. Black eyes drawing me one way as darkness draws me
another, then melding together. A tortured cry rips from me as pain
and lust, grief and love warp into a shattering, all-embracing
despair.

********************************************************

I jolted upright, the smell of burning flesh in my nostrils, the
burning of desire in my loins, staring around me in panic and shame.
My darkened room was empty and silent - save for the pounding of my
heart in my ears and a few bars of a nameless tune that lingered at
the back of my thoughts. I swung my legs over the bed and buried my
face in my trembling hands. What was happening to me?

Calming a bit, I went to my bathing chamber, drew a hot bath, and
then rang to have some tea brought to my room. By the time I had
finished, the pot was waiting for me upon a table in my bedchamber.
I dressed and took the tea out onto my balcony. Watching the sun
rise over the valley, I sipped the tea and listened to the birds
sing. The peace of the new day lifted my spirit and I breathed
deeply of the clear air, tranquility gentling my thoughts for the
first time in months. Suddenly I was struck by the normalcy of my
actions and I felt a sudden longing for these simple, everyday
things that I had cast aside in the throes of my obsession with the
dark Elf. For a time all darkness left my thoughts and I at last
relaxed into dreamless reverie.

When I came to myself, I rose with a clear head and a sound purpose.
Making my way to the archives, I began with writings of Lord
Celeborn, going back to the earliest days of the Eldar. Slowly,
painstakingly, I worked forward over the next six weeks, spending
every hour I could set aside to search for clues to Erestor's past.
From time to time, I would find Erestor in the library reading a
variety of material, including his usual interests. He treated me
with courtesy and respect though I felt his dark eyes bore into me
often as I went about my business. I tried to fight the shudder of
dread, the shiver of want, which played along my spine whenever I
felt his eyes upon me. Fighting the inexplicable compulsion I felt
to stride over to him, seize him, and beg him to devour me.

Once or twice he even offered to help me locate books or scrolls
when he saw my uncertainty as I looked for a title or seal, but I
turned him away politely. How would he have taken it if I had told
him that it was he about whom I was seeking information, that it was
he who was under scrutiny? Perhaps he did know, he seemed to know
everything, but he did nothing to hinder me. Whether it was because
he thought I would never find his name among the musty records or
whether it was part of his twisted plan that I find out only so he
could somehow stop me from revealing the truth to Elrond I did not
know.

Then, one day, as I was reading of the history and houses of
Gondolin late one evening and the words had begun to blur before my
weary eyes, a name jumped out at me - Erestor.

I looked across the room to see him writing upon scroll and my eyes
narrowed with anger. I felt a growl well up within my throat and his
head snapped in my direction, startled. His darkling eyes met mine
and widened at the antipathy he saw.

"Glorfindel?"

I barely heard the whispered word as memories swept me away.

*******************************************************

Shouts of warning from the watch as demonic fire blasts the city's
gates. Elves scrambling to arms, preparing for battle. The Lords of
the Houses calling out to their panicked, fleeing people, crying out
commands for order, trying to direct them to safety.

And failing.

Watching as fire drakes, Balrogs, and Orcs breach the defenses of
the outer seventh wall, coming closer, breaking through the others
one by one until the foul armies marched into the inner sanctum of
the hidden city.

The house of the High King falling, the flaming death of loved ones.
Sounds of weeping, screams of pain, and the ring of metal upon metal
as the battle rages through the courtyards. Cries of horror, anger,
remorse - cries of failure.

Echthelion!

Watching the dark-haired warrior battle a Balrog, a screech as the
Balrog is pierced upon helm. The hissing of steaming water, boiling
into froth, as both fall to their deaths within the fountain.

Echthelion of the Fountain, the great love of the golden one - dead.
A gut-wrenching cry as love witnesses death of love, pain-filled
screams of a warrior who fights to save the loves of others as he
could not his own. Finding Idril, wife of Tuor, upon a parapet,
trying to save the life of her son. Watching as husband saves wife,
as father saves son.

Scream of victory at witnessing the fall of the traitor Maeglin.
Escorting terrified Elves through escape tunnels. Cirith Thoronath -
The Eagle's Cleft. The shadow gaining on those fleeing before it,
turning to block the pursuit, to protect his charges, turning into
the face of shadow and flame. A challenging scream and an answering
roar. Flesh of arm dissolving as sword plunges into the belly of the
beast.

Excruciating agony as fiery flail wraps around torso. A scream of
mindless rage. Watching as the beast overbalances and falls to its
death. Turning away in breathless, suffering triumph. Eyes widening
in horror as golden hair is suddenly seized. Final vision of a flash
of black hair - Echthelion?

Cry of horror - falling, plummeting...

Oblivion.

*****************************************

"Glorfindel?"

I growled at Erestor as he approached, my teeth bared in the manner
of a feral animal.

"Do not touch me!"

I watched as Erestor's eyes widened in surprise and then as his brow
came together in a scowl. He came closer and I shrank from his
touch, even as, deep within, I craved it.

I ran.

Tears of pain and horror filled my eyes as I stumbled to the
gardens. This is what he was hiding, the fact that he was a traitor.

He had been an apprentice archivist in the House of the Mole, the
house that had betrayed my beloved city, at least indirectly
responsible for its destruction, for aiding those who had taken the
noble life of my one love. Erestor - an exquisite, seductive
traitor, cloaked in darkness and mystery, a dark beauty who I
yearned to have claim me, to take me - to possess my soul.

I sat within the peace of the gardens for hours, the painful
memories wringing the tears from my eyes, the scar that encircled my
torso throbbing with the fiery heat of so long ago - from the day I
was killed. Darkness filled me, like a spell I could not break, but
it brought no dread or shadow, but rather a gentle, soothing comfort.

I looked up at the almost imperceptible sound of robes brushing the
ground and met the pewter eyes of my Lord. I nodded to him, and he
sat next to me. I could feel Vilya probe my mind. Instinctively I
fought the intrusion then relaxed into its healing comfort. I sighed
deeply and looked into Elrond's worried eyes.

"Glorfindel, you have been in the libraries." he said, and I could
tell he wished I had not.

I nodded.

"You must stop this before you lose yourself. I have told you that
there is no evil within these borders. Let it go."

I stood and glared at him, shaking my head. "I have the evidence
now, my lord. Evidence you can not ignore. Erestor is of the House
of the Mole. Did you know this? He is of a house of traitors who
betrayed Gondolin, Echthelion - and me, to destruction and death."
Elrond sighed. "Erestor was but an apprentice, Glorfindel. He worked
in the archives, nothing more. He was not responsible."

I glanced at Vilya then met Elrond's eye wearily. "You think you are
protected from evil, my lord, but it has seduced you. This is how it
transpires Elrond, not through a sudden destruction of your will but
an insidious, creeping darkness that invites itself in. And you give
in willingly, even come to crave it, until it possesses you." I
pointed to Elrond's hand. "This will not protect you, my lord, but I
will."

I stood and walked away.

"Glorfindel!"

I stopped, but did not turn. I could not face him now.
"Leave it be Glorfindel. I do not need protection and you are not
the one to do it. You do not understand the consequences of your
actions. Erestor is not our enemy. Leave it be."

My jaw tightened at his words. "Is that a command, my lord?" I asked
him in a clipped tone.

"It might be."

I left without looking back.

Despite Elrond's warning, I refused to leave this be. I was the
Seneschal of Imladris, a duty I had sworn upon my life to uphold.
Erestor was of the House of the Mole and could not be trusted.
I reflected on the thoughts I'd been having, of fire and shadow, of
flame and darkness. Reveries of sable hair wrapped around my
fingers, a hot mouth wrapped around rigid heat, ruby lips claiming
mine, thoughts of eyes glittering behind a dark mask as he lay
between my thighs.

I made my way to my rooms quickly and, with thoughts of him burning
in my head, surrendered to my desire.

Now that I had found out one of Erestor's secrets, I wanted to know
everything. Further research turned up nothing, however. I pored
over the archives into darkest hours of night. But I could find no
record of him after the fall of Gondolin. It was as though he had
simply disappeared, or died. Yet he was not a reborn Elf, I knew
that, so where had he gone? An entire millennia had passed since
then but nothing more of him was recorded until he had shown up in
Imladris some three hundred years ago. As my curiosity grew so too
did my compulsion. I had find proof that Elrond would find
irrefutable to prove this dark Elf's treachery.

My thoughts in turmoil I again went my favorite glade to meditate.
As I began the exercise of grounding and centering myself my
thoughts went again to him - to Erestor. A darkling Elf, masked and
clad in black. Piercing black eyes floated past my mind's eye and I
groaned. Darkness, warm and soothing, wrapped me in a blanket of fog
and shadow through which I glimpsed glossy black hair, creamy skin,
and cherry-red lips.

I had to get him out of my mind.

***********************************************

Close your eyes and surrender
to your darkest dreams!

Purge your thoughts of
the life you knew before!

Close your eyes,
let your spirit start to soar!

And you'll live
as you've never lived before...

How could I get him out of my thoughts when every time I closed my
eyes I saw his face - that mask - those eyes? Sighing, I stood,
pulled my sword from its scabbard and took a few practice swings. I
started to do a slow dance of meditative exercise, moving through
the graceful sword positions, concentrating on their intricacy,
focusing... yet still dark eyes filled my vision.

1. With a shouted curse I thrust my sword into the ground and fell
to my knees, gasping, my eyes tightly shut. Was there no escape from
the darkness that blackened my soul? As I knelt with my eyes closed
and my head bowed, the soft night breeze caressed my sweating body
and I slowly tuned in to the sounds and scents all around me.

Swaying branches could be heard overhead as well as the sounds of
small animals and birds moving through the foliage, insects flying
and making their small chirping and whirring noises. Fragrances
floated on the breeze, leaves and sap, perfume and petal.

I looked around, seeing, really seeing, for the first time the
moonless night, noticing how the nighttime seemed to sharpen,
heighten each sensation, the darkness waking, stirring my
imagination as I knelt upon the cool grass. I relaxed, allowing my
senses to abandon their defenses as I listened to the music of the
night that surrounded me. For the first time I felt the restlessness
within me ease even as a half-remembered tune floated through my
mind.

Now the tune came to me clearer, seeming to waft upon the very
breeze, a reflective, voiceless melody that wove its way into my
mind, lacing itself through my thoughts like a gentle caress.

Slowly, gently night unfurled its splendor, and my trembling hand
reached out as though to grasp it, to sense it, so tremulous and
tender. I turned my face to the lightless sky where neither moon nor
star shone, and the tune grew within my mind, urging me to turn away
from the garish light of day, to turn my thoughts away from cold,
unfeeling light. Yes, light was cold and unfeeling, only the
darkness was warm, soothing. Only within darkness could I find
myself, only by listening to the music of the night.

My eyes drifted closed once more. I felt the soft tendrils of
ghostly fingers touch me, caress me, and I did not resist, marveling
at the way the weightlessness of it seemed to be real and not real
at the same time, like coming out of reverie to a lover's touch.
This darkness I had felt as a stain upon my soul no longer felt so.
Now it felt true, right, and I opened my eyes to see a black-cloaked
figure standing before me.

I gasped as I looked up at him - it - the figure, and I heard the
song within my head now issue from the black robes, a faceless cloak
with a heartbreakingly sweet voice, a sweet, seductive voice. I
blinked, unable to fight the need to follow the voice down into the
darkness, darkness deep as a Balrog's lair, deep as the foundations
of the earth.

"Close your eyes," the voice sang, "for your eyes will only tell the
truth and the truth isn't what you want to see. In the dark it is
easy to pretend, that the truth is what it ought to be."

I obeyed, and behind my shuttered lids saw the glittering black eyes
that so captured and enchanted me. Erotic words pulled at my fea and
I gave myself over with only the barest resistance. Darkness pulled
me further into its embrace, taking me to places I did not wish to
go. Taking me to places I had infinitely longed to go...

'Hearing is believing, music is deceiving, hard as lightning, soft
as candlelight. Dare you trust the music of the night?'

Ah, sweet deception. A dark spell from which I had no will to free
myself. I swayed slightly, a sudden stab of dizziness and nausea
making me reel. 'Trust the music of the night', the voice in my head
soothed, and the feeling passed. I let myself be lulled, my senses
benumbed by the melody that wove a blissful web around me.

And then I felt it, the first touch upon my body, no longer a mere
phantom caress but one of substance. A touch of delicate passion -
light but demanding.

As the fingers skated warmly down my breast I felt also a touch
within my mind. My brow furrowed. I tried to open my eyes but found
I could not. My thoughts were brushed by tendrils of darkness as his
voice brushed my ears. Softly, deftly, the music caressed me. I
could both hear and feel it secretly possess me. I opened my mind
further, to my most deeply guarded fantasies - fantasies of him,
letting them unwind, setting them free without shame. A part of me
said I should not give in, but I wanted to give in; I wanted to lose
myself in the darkness that I knew I could not fight.

And as he laid me bare before him, physically and psychically, the
presence in my head wandered the murky corridors of my troubled
mind. It skirted the mundane thoughts of everyday waking, questing
deeper, into places even I feared to tread. Darkness swirled and
eddied within me, welling up as from a hidden spring within my soul,
and I welcomed it, invited it to take me.

Into this darkness I plunged, down into the prison of my mind, and I
went deeper within myself than I had ever gone before, faintly
hearing the gasp of pleasure from my lips as I arched beneath lithe,
teasing hands.

He delved deeper, releasing my darkest dreams, and I surrendered to
them. Dreams of him, of his lips, his eyes, raged through me like a
flash fire, burning me with my own unspoken, hidden desire. I saw
him hovering over me as clearly as if my eyes had been open, his
fathomless black eyes, and his sensual lips now drawn into a
triumphant sneer. Suddenly, terrifyingly, his features darkened and
shifted. Flames filled his eyes, smoke and shadow replaced his aura,
and I froze in horror, my mind seizing up at the vision of doom and
death before me. The scar upon my body from the Balrog's whip lashed
me with blazing agony and my nostrils filled with the scent of my
own seared flesh. Memories of pain and loss burst from the depths of
my soul, but the blackest stain I saw was not from my past, and the
desire that burned within me was not for him.

I would have lost myself then, willingly locked the door of my mind,
imprisoning myself for eternity in the blackest, foulest, most
malicious darkness undreamed of by the race of Elves except...

The music forced its way through once again; purging my thoughts of
the life I'd known before, rendering the horrific dreams of my
former death, and most recent possession, faint echoes that
resounded immaterially in the halls of my thoughts. And now my
spirit, released at last from the true darkness that had claimed me,
started to soar, promising a life such as I'd never lived before - a
life free of overreaching shadow and pain.

Floating, falling, I felt as one intoxicated. Gentle hands touched
me and I trusted them, savoring each new sensation they wrought. A
new dream began to form in my mind, a different dream of him but one
even more powerful, more pure, than the one I'd held in the shadow
of my thoughts. I let my darker side give in, but now the darkness
was not of evil but of passion. I reached for him, silken skin
gliding past my fingers; the coolness of it as a balm upon the heat
of my need. My arousal surged and the music flowed through my soul
once more, this time in a cleansing torrent, the rich and powerful
music of the night.

'You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of
the night.' his voice whispered inside my mind and that is the
moment I knew his desire matched my own.

My eyes fluttered open like one awaking from a long sleep and I
found myself looking into the black depths of his eyes, the mask he
wore ornamenting rather than detracting from his mysterious beauty.
Pale skin, red lips, and black waves of hair filled my vision, and I
added my own music to his in the form of a needful moan.

His lips curled in a smile of triumph, just as within my dreams, and
I opened to him as he moved upon me. Those lips I had seen in my
mind so many times lowered to take mine and their taste was the dew
upon roses from the darkest hour before dawn. A tender pain and heat
filled me again but now altered to meld into the growing ferocity of
my desire.

I seized his shoulders, digging my fingers into the hard flesh of
his collarbone, and he tightened his grip upon my hips, meeting, and
outstripping, the fury of my need with his own. He raised his face
above me once more, his eyes veiled, his face and hair moist with
effort as his hard, powerful body drove me into the soft grass
beneath. I shuddered, my keenness building apace with his, until I
could see and feel that we had both reached the point of no return.
His lips shadowed the swells and curves of my bosom and belly and
his voice whispered in my mind...

'You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of
that wish, which till now has been silent, silent...'

"Yes!" I gasped aloud, the sound of my voice nearly breaking the
spell of our coupling. 'Yes.' I repeated in my mind. I felt his
satisfaction in my thoughts even as his touch brought a soft gasp to
my lips.

'I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge - in your
mind you've already succumbed to me dropped all defenses completely
succumbed to me - now you are here with me: no second thoughts,
you've decided, decided . . .'

'I have, my lord, mind and body.' I admitted with a moan.

'Past the point of no return - no backward glances: the games we've
played till now are at an end . . . Past all thought of "if"
or "when" - no use resisting: abandon thought, and let the dream
descend . . .'

'Is this but a dream?' I wondered with a stab of sadness, and he
chuckled softly against my quivering flesh and I knew it was not.

'What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its
door? What sweet seduction lies before us . . .?'

At those words, 'what sweet seduction lies before us?' I nearly lost
myself in thought of further surrender to this beautiful dark Elf. I
arched up, crying out in frustrated disappointment at my lack of
control, but he moved to stay my release with a deft, painful
movement and I lay panting in the sudden pause between. He lifted
his dark eyes to mine, chiding me tenderly, then he gathered my
wrists in his hands and pinned them on either side of my head as his
voice wafted through my thoughts.

'Past the point of no return, the final threshold - what warm,
unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return . . .'

'You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that
moment where speech disappears into silence, silence . . .' I
murmured dreamily in response.

'And you have wanted this." he said. 'Willingly have you come and
willingly surrendered yourself to me, my golden warrior. Long have I
wanted this and long have you fought your desire for me, but no
more, no more...' His breath stole over my cheek, soft lips brushing
my ear as his words stole into my mind.

'I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why . . . In my mind,
I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent -
and now I am here with you: no second thoughts, I've decided,
decided . . .' I panted as he released my arms and began to move
again. 'Past the point of no return - no going back now,' I thought,
responding with a small whimper of encouragement to the touch low
upon my body.

'Our passion-play has now, at last, begun . . . Past all thought of
right or wrong - ' His careful, slow-building pace was driving me
mad and I grasped his hips and pulled him to me as I rocked my own
up into his downward movement.

'How long should we two wait, before we're one . . .? When will the
blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will
the flames, at last, consume us . . .?'

He roared in surprise and finally I heard his deep voice in my ears
instead of my thoughts, sweeter and more melodious in his passion it
was than the voice of Lindir at his most heartfelt. His black eyes
closed tightly and I gazed on his face, the mask that so fascinated
me, and was struck by a sudden overwhelming urge to see what lay
beneath, to know his secrets as he now knew mine. What caused this
compulsion I knew not, a last bit of the darkness he had purged from
my soul perhaps?

Whatever the reason, I had to know. I reached out with a trembling
hand, hesitating just before my fingers came to grasp it. No, I
would not. But it was too late, a convulsion of rapture swept me in
its wake and my hand caught the edge of the mask, tearing it away
even as I passed the point of no return...

'Past the point of no return, the final threshold - the bridge is
crossed, so stand and watch it burn . . . We've passed the point of
no return . . .'

His eyes flew open wide, his gaze piercing me as sun pierces shadow,
the dark depths of them aflame with passion and infused with
betrayal. I gasped, writhing in horror, even as a flash of lightning
lit the cloudy sky above, illuminating fully the face I had so
longed to see. The shock to my embattled mind was too much, but
there was now no stemming the bliss of release - and I fell into the
abyss, swallowed up by a darkness with no dreams, no sensation; the
darkness of my revelation.

*********************************************************

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you

Hear it, feel it secretly possess you

Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind

In this darkness which you know you cannot fight

The darkness of the music of the night

I awake with the sun shining across my face and I stretch
languorously upon my bed, the sheet covering me sliding low. I smile
at the warm breeze that caresses me from the open window, my heart
soaring at the singing of the birds. As I stretch, a dull pain arcs
through my body and I sit up, frowning in surprise and confusion.

I do not remember taking a lover last night, or more to the point, I
do not remember allowing a lover to take me. I look to my bathing
chamber thoughtfully, wondering if said lover is within and who it
might be. I arise and pad across the room to look, feeling more
myself, lighter in spirit, than I have felt in many months. Passing
the full length mirror that stands next to my wardrobe, I stop when
I see my reflection and memories, realization, suddenly flood me. I
am horrified.

There is a dull throb deep within me as I gaze upon the scar with
which the Balrog's flail marked me as I died. The scar has seemingly
dimmed, its color paled to a thin pink line circling my torso and
trailing down my hip. I stumble, nearly falling to my knees as I
remember... I remember and I know what has been hidden...

The traitor... Erestor, who has been the object of my obsession, the
dark Elf who speaks the Black Speech, who works dark spells, was not
the traitor... It - it was... is...? Me!

All the time I had suspected him, spied upon him, shadowed his
movements, yet it was I who betrayed Imladris with every dark dream,
every memory that I thought was of my past but was not...

Shaking, I fall into a chair and cover my eyes, my elbows upon my
knees. What will Lord Elrond do? What will I do? I must go to him,
throw myself on his mercy and beg his forgiveness. What my fate will
be I know not. How could I have been so blinded that I could not
see, not feel in my being, what was happening to me. The thought is
followed as quickly by another more alarming one. Erestor knew it,
that is why he came to me, that is why he... why we...

'No!' I moan to myself. 'It cannot be.' But my heart tells me
otherwise, and I know I must go to Lord Elrond so that he may decide
what is to be done.

I dress quickly and go to the door, hesitating for a moment before I
gather the courage to open it. When I do, I am brought up short by
the sight of two guards blocking my passage. I gasp and step back
into the room as they move to stay me. Lord Elrond knows of my
betrayal and I am now prisoner. The power of Vilya that I dismissed
so lightly has led him directly to the source of the danger to his
realm... me.

Then, before I can collect my wits, Lord Elrond sweeps past the
guards and into the room. My eyes go wide at the look of anger on
his face, and as he enters the guards close the door behind him. I
wonder at this for a moment. Does Elrond not fear that I might do
something desperate in my current state? He knows how irrational I
have been. Then I realize he does not fear me, for the thing that
had possessed me is now gone.

His steel-grey eyes bore into mine and I find myself leaning upon a
table for support. "You would not leave it alone." he states
flatly. "I asked you, nay, ordered you, to let me handle the
situation but you refused to do so!"

"My Lord, I did not know, I swear it. But I was not myself, I can
see that now. I thought only to protect you and Imladris, but
instead it is I who has betrayed you. Please tell me the damage is
not irreversible; please tell me this can be made right!"

His look tells me the situation is dire. I can no longer meet his
gaze and I hang my head in sorrow and shame. I have broken my oath
to my lord and failed to protect my people. 'Oh, would that this day
had never come.' I think miserably.

Elrond heaves a sigh of disgust and sits heavily in a chair, bidding
me to sit also. "Do you realize, even now, the extent of your
betrayal?"

I cannot sit, and I begin pacing the floor in my agitation. "Yes, my
lord, I wish I did not. I have been far-speaking a Balrog of
Morgoth. I was possessed by the thing, how I do not know, and the
dreams I thought were nightmares of my past have been, instead, me
calling to it, inviting the invasion of Imladris by the dark powers.

Elrond nodded. "There are events in motion that are part of an
ancient prophecy, Glorfindel. I have been keeping close watch on the
situation and have been working to ensure that when the time is
right, the matter will be resolved. You have nearly undone all that
I have worked for these past seven hundred years. Fortunately for
you, and for Imladris, Erestor was able to remove the stain upon
your fea left by the Balrog's whip when you were murdered in
Gondolin."

At the speaking of Erestor's name I flush and lower my eyes once
again. First from the sudden arousal the name invokes, then from the
shame. With a jolt of surprise, I find my desire for him is undimmed
by the knowledge he only seduced me at the behest of Lord Elrond.
Yet the shame I feel to know he has taken me, is not in the taking
but in the fact that my hazy memories do not allow me to fully
recall the experience of our first time together. And then the
memory of his face, what I saw behind his mask, sends a shudder
through me. How horrible to have to live with such a mark, to live
with the corruption and twisting of such beautiful features into...
into the thing I saw. Then my own mark tingles in sympathy and I
feel a stab of regret for exposing that which he had not chosen to
share freely, his face.

These musings are interrupted as I Elrond's words sink in, and I
look up with a frown, "Ancient prophecy my lord?"

Elrond notices my distraction and fixes me with a glare beneath a
raised eyebrow. "Yes, my dear seneschal, a prophecy of the awakening
of evil, an evil bent on the destruction of Imladris and the seizing
of Vilya. While the power of the ring has diminished, it still
carries the ability to protect this realm from those who would
destroy us, the last Elves left in Middle Earth. I have been aware
of this for a long time, long enough to have planned for the day
when Morgoth would seek to cast his shadow upon us one last time. It
is why I study the dark lore, and why I have forbidden its study to
all save those I trust."

"All you trust?" I shoot back, angered by his words. "Am I, your
seneschal, not worthy of your trust? Do our years together, my
service to your house, mean nothing? You have known of this all
along, known darkness was working through me and yet you did not
tell me. Why? Why did you not trust me with the truth?"

By this time my voice is raised to an almost fever pitch and I halt
in my pacing as the door opens and the guards look in, concerned.
Elrond waves them away, but before they can close the door, Erestor
enters. I drop my gaze at once, flushing again to remember the night
before. I avoid his beautiful dark eyes, hoping he can no longer
sense my desire, and look instead at Elrond.

Elrond glances at Erestor, who acknowledges him with a nod. "I could
not tell you Glorfindel," Elrond says calmly, "for I did not know
you were possessed until Erestor told me. It is he who spoke for
you, vouched for you, offered to research the spells to free you. He
offered to do whatever was necessary to remove the evil that was
trying to capture your mind," he paused, and my heart stopped for
fear of what I knew he must say, "even to the point of binding
himself to you."

"No!" I shout instinctively, my eyes flying to Erestor. I instantly
regret my outburst when I see Erestor's eyes flash, then empty of
emotion. "I - I mean... how is that possible? I have no memory..." I
trail off, taking a chair at last when my legs threaten to betray
me.

Elrond rises and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I'm
afraid it was the only way, Glorfindel." he says gently. "You were
deeply under the Balrog's spell by the time Erestor stepped in.
Another week, two at the most, and we would have lost you forever."
I know his words are true, but how can I accept this? The one Elf I
would have chosen as a lover was now my bonded mate, the one Elf I
had feared would discover my secret longing and exploit it now knew
my innermost thoughts and desires. He had saved me but what would
happen to me now? He had saved me by making me his life mate, our
fea's bound for eternity. I moan softly at the thought.

"And this... bonding has restored me fully?" I ask. "There are no
lingering effects of my possession?"

"That is what I have asked Erestor here to determine," Elrond
said, "to examine you for evidence that the Balrog has relinquished
your mind." He lifted my chin and looked me squarely in the
eye. "Otherwise, stronger measures will need to be taken."

I can see past Elrond's seriousness to the pain beneath, but I
respect his position, and the integrity with which he discharges his
duties to all those under his protection. I know exactly what his
words mean.

"Yes, my lord." I say bravely. "I would expect no less."
I look to Erestor and saw the briefest look of pain flicker in his
eyes, a look I had never seen within them before.

Still, a part of me bristled at the idea that Elrond's trust could
only be restored through the dark Elf who had been complicit in the
concealment of the truth, in binding with me in a way that would
affect both of our lives without my knowledge of him doing so. Then
I think of him, what this bonding might mean to him. Perhaps he is
as confused and frightened by it all as I. I look at the mask
covering his face, covering the grotesque travesty of his beauty,
and the last piece falls into place.

He bears upon his countenance, what I bear upon my body, the mark
from the fiery tail of the Balrog's whip. I see my death again, my
last moments as I hover on the brink of the abyss...

****************************************

Final vision of a flash of black hair - Echthelion?

****************************************

It was him! It was not my beloved Echthelion I had dreamed in my
feverish and pained state that tried to save me from falling with
the demon. It was Erestor.

But he was of the House of the Mole. Why would he have run to my aid
when even the warriors of the city fled before the creature, he who
had neither the training nor battle experience to fight?

I look at him, awestruck, but he shakes his head fractionally and
pulls me forward so that our foreheads are touching. I close my eyes
and feel the gentle brush of his mind against mine, relaxing when I
feel his forgiveness for my earlier dark thoughts of him.

The purity of his soul dazzles me and once again I feel shame for my
actions, even if they were induced by the darkness that consumed me.
I feel him soothing my thoughts, calming my fears, and the true
beauty of him is known to me, not merely his outer appearance before
he was struck by the Balrog's flail, but the beauty of his soul.

Again my thoughts of tearing away his mask disgrace me and I know he
can sense my shame, but he also knows that my revulsion for his
disfigurement runs only upon the surface, deeper within is the
respect I have for him and deeper still is my desire, my...love. I
feel myself redden but he does not linger upon the thoughts I do not
try to hide from him, and so at last he reaches the place where the
stain rested upon my soul and discovers it is no more.

I open my eyes and look into his, still a bit dazed from the
encounter. An affectionate smile briefly touches his lips but after
a gentle brush of fingers upon my cheeks, his eyes become hooded and
he is the Chief Councilor of Elrond once more.

He stands and turns to Elrond with professional detachment. "He is
no longer in the Balrog's thrall, my lord." he says with a bow.

Elrond nods and stands also. "I am satisfied councilor. Glorfindel,
you are no longer confined to your rooms. Erestor, let us take our
leave and discuss the path before us."

I am relieved at his pronouncement but also troubled to once again
be denied full knowledge of how Elrond and Erestor seek to defeat
the dangerous creature.

"Lord Elrond," I say quickly, "with all due respect, do you not
think I deserve to be part of your plans? I am informed that Erestor
has bound himself to me and that I am no longer under the Balrog's
thrall yet you expect me to go back to my routine and let others do
my fighting for me? I deserve better, do I not?"

"Glorfindel it is better if you do not..." Lord Elrond begins.

"No, my lord it is not better," I break in, my voice rising
slightly. "It was using me, casting its shadow into my mind and
causing me to betray all that I know and love. Erestor bound himself
to me to save me from this horror, to bring me out of the darkness
that was consuming me. I am your seneschal Elrond, I am already
involved, and I deserve to know!"

Elrond stops to consider this. He looks at me and then at Erestor,
who inclines his head slightly.

"Very well, Glorfindel. Perhaps you are right; perhaps it is time to
bring you into our plans." A ghost of a smile flits across his
features and he says, "Indeed, it seems that you will not rest until
you find out anyway. Join us in my office in one hour's time."

I bow as they take their leave. Erestor's eyes meet mine before he
turns away, and I call to him softly.
"Erestor?"

He turns back to look at me but, seeming to know what I would ask,
shakes his head and murmurs, "We will talk later Glorfindel." And
then he is gone.

I pour a glass of wine and drink it down in three swallows then sit
in my chair by the balcony and look out upon the gardens, my
thoughts a muddled mess. The sun shows it to be less than an hour
since I awoke to the discovery that I had been possessed by a Balrog
and, through Erestor's intervention and binding of our feas, was
possessed no longer but was now life mate to the mysterious dark
Elf.

'My long existence completely changed in so short a time,' I think
miserably.

Yes, I admit I desired him, that I desire him still, but I know him
only through his touch, his roving within my troubled mind. Never
had I considered what would happen should I act on my desire, should
we be bound in this way. Yet twice he had sought to save me. The
first time had marked him horribly, and this time... Well, how was
he marked now? I wonder.

And how was I marked? No longer carrying the stain of evil that had
followed me in death, what did I now carry within me as a result of
accepting Erestor? I could have rejected the binding, refused him, I
thought stubbornly. But I knew I could no more have done so than I
could have fought the Balrog's possession alone. In a way, I
suppose, we were bound long before Erestor took me in the forest,
for I desired him even before I knew him.

I thought upon these and many other things until the time came to
meet with Elrond and Erestor. Perhaps the answers I sought could be
found in Elrond's study. At least I might be able to lessen the fear
that I had brought ruin to Imladris and the Last Homely House.

Sighing, I make my way to Elrond's office and lightly knock on the
door. I enter when I am bidden to do so and my eyes seek out those
of Erestor. I see something flash in them before they go impassive
once again. I hear Elrond clear his throat and I look to him.

"Shall we begin?"

I nod and take a seat next to Erestor, waiting. I glance at Elrond
who sits silently, and then turn to look at Erestor as he begins to
tell his tale.

"Just past my majority I was sent to Gondolin to start my training
as an apprentice archivist," Erestor began. I was sent to Maeglin's
house, the House of the Mole. This was long before he started to
lose his mind and became obsessed with making Idril his own. Most of
us from the house escaped when we heard of his betrayal of the city,
and when he tried to take Idril by force and kill Earendil."

He looked at me for a moment, a brief glance to check my reaction,
then turned his face forward again and continued.

"I knew who you were, but did not know you personally. When the city
was attacked, I ran with all the others and that is when I saw you
upon Cirith Thoronath battling the Balrog. I screamed for someone to
help you, but no one would. You were fighting so bravely, so
valiantly and I could do nothing but follow my heart and try to
help.

I grabbed a kinsman's sword and ran to do battle beside you, but I
had never wielded a sword before. You were too busy with the
creature to notice me, but the Balrog was not. When I struck at his
side, his whip lashed out, catching my face with a glancing blow,
burning me with a dark agony I had never felt before, or since. You
had already delivered the fatal blow and had turned away, triumph in
your eyes, as the Balrog started to fall, and then..."

He pauses and lowers his eyes. I knew what happened then, he did not
need to speak it. On impulse I take his hand in mine and give it a
light squeeze, watching with sudden awkwardness the emotions which
play across his face as he tries to compose himself. I nod and
encourage him to go on.

"I felt darkness overwhelm me and when next I woke, I found myself
being tended by Elven healers in strange dark robes. It took me many
months to recover from the wound on my face, for my hair to grow
back, and many more months to discover where I was and who the Elves
were - the guardians of an ancient prophesy. When they saw I had
recovered sufficiently in body, if not entirely in spirit, they
revealed my true destiny to me."

Again he stops his tale and I turn to Elrond as he picks up the
thread:

"A prophecy was revealed to Erestor, one that would change his life
and intertwine his fortunes with those of Imladris, and you."

"This is the prophesy you spoke of in my rooms." I say with
understanding, "What is this prophesy?"

Erestor starts to recite it, almost in a whisper, as his eyes glaze
over in memory.

"Fire and shadow, arising in might, slayers to come in the darkest
of night. Both will be marked with Balrog's flail, and in their
quest they must not fail. Leading them both, the one with dark hair,
will call the Balrog from his lair. Armed with sword and armed with
spell, to defeat the demon grave and fell." His dark eyes clear
slowly but still he does not look at me as he continues.

"You found nothing about my life for a thousand years Glorfindel,
because nothing was recorded. I stayed within that house of healing
and spiritual wisdom for a millennium, training under the tutelage
of the Order during this time. I was trained not only in the arts of
diplomacy, my education continuing, but in the arts of war. I was
trained as an assassin, trained to be a Balrog slayer."

My head is reeling at what is being revealed to me as I listen to
Elrond continue.

"The Order sent Erestor to Imladris when his training was complete.
He came as councilor but that was only part of his purpose. I was
familiar with the prophesy, for reasons I cannot reveal to you, and
for the last seven hundred years Erestor and I have been watching -
waiting."

"And then I came along and when the Balrog awoke, began to far-speak
it."

Erestor turns to me and places a hand upon my arm. "You were not to
know the curse of being touched by a Balrog, Glorfindel."

"Curse?" I ask, nervousness knotting within my stomach.

"Those who are touched by a Balrog retain part of its essence
within. That is how the beast was able to possess you. You were not
only touched, but died with this foulness inside you. When you fell
into shadow I..."

I watch as he lowers his eyes and cannot stop myself from reaching
out, lifting his chin with my hand. "You pulled me back. You bound
our feas to save me from this." I murmur softly.

He nods.

"I am most grateful." I say with a gentle smile.

My heart sinks as I watch his eyes hood over again and the stern
Councilor returns once more.

"Glorfindel," Elrond says, drawing my attention from those dark
eyes, "Through no fault of your own, you have become drawn into
this. The Balrog has returned and his eyes are fixed upon Imladris.
Erestor has prepared for this day for over a millennium, and now you
must prepare also. The prophecy speaks of two. We have ever wondered
who the second was to be but now we know."

I frown. "But how do you know it is to be me?" My stomach is
starting to clench in fear. They are asking me to face shadow and
flame once again.

"We know the prophecy speaks of Erestor, but another is also
mentioned. You have faced and defeated a Balrog before, admittedly
at great cost, and you have been marked by its whip, also as the
prophesy states." He looks me in the eye and says bluntly. "And now
that you have this bond I am afraid you have no choice, you must be
the second."

I gasp and look to Erestor, unable to read the emotion in those
obsidian eyes as I gaze into their depths.

*****************************************************

Close your eyes, start a journey to a strange new world
Leave the thoughts of the world you knew before
Close your eyes and let music set you free
Only then can you belong to me

Knowing I must again face my most formidable nightmare sends an
uncharacteristic stab of terror through me. I am to be Erestor's
second in this battle, a battle with a creature like unto the one
who had taken my life so long ago. I had insisted on knowing what
was going on, had spied and insinuated myself into the situation,
but now, knowing I must again test myself against the evil that had
taken everything from me once before, I found a part of me wishing I
had not been so demanding in my insistence to be told.

I try to hide the emotions my thoughts stir in me but I can see,
with a glance at Erestor, he knows of my fear and doubt. His eyes
meet mine and I think on how he alone rushed to my aid in my peril.
Now he has prepared to face this creature alone and my heart fills
with admiration and resolve. If he, an archivist who had never
picked up a sword, could find the courage to face down a creature of
such evil how could I, a warrior who had betrayed my land, refuse to
do my part?

I look at Lord Elrond, holding his perceptive gaze steadily. "What
must I do, my lord?"

***********************

And so my training began. For the next three months, for twelve
hours each day, I trained with Erestor, learning the meaning of the
spells he would use, following his movements as he trained with his
sword, sparring with him as I learned, too slowly I thought, the
ways he had practiced for better than a millennia. He was an
exacting master, pushing me to limits I did not know I possessed,
yet never to the point where I would give up, or fail to learn what
he sought to teach.

The most difficult skill I had to develop, the one that nearly broke
me, was to wield my sword while Erestor recited his spells in the
Black Speech. At first I could not remain on my feet through the
first few words, but gradually, with Erestor's persistence and
patience, I came to the point where I only experience a queasy
roiling in my stomach at the sound of the hideous words.

Through all our training and the time we have spent together,
Erestor has not spoken of our bond, has said nothing of what he went
through when he used the darkness to free me. Neither have I felt
him out, or even directly asked him for details. I know we are
bound, and our fighting seems to be uncannily synchronized due to
this fact, but I do not feel it. I do not feel his fea when I am
with him or the searching of his spirit for mine. In fact, most
times when we are together, I am so absorbed in planning for our
quest I do not even think of him as my mate.

Instead, I have learned what it is to fight side by side with
Erestor, learned what it is to have him at my back, for me to be at
his. It is good what we have, though within the depths of my heart I
long for more.

Yet we have gotten to know each other in other ways, simpler ways.
The everyday things of which wines we prefer, which books, which
arts, has shown us to be closer in many ways than I would have
imagined. These small things are not a result of our bond, nor are
the flashes of affection that I see sometimes in his eyes, an
affection which disappears the instant I take notice of it. Once I
overheard him tell Lord Elrond that he trusts me implicitly with his
life, and my heart filled with a pride I have not felt since I was
reborn and found my new body remembered fully the ways of the sword
and bow.

Now I lie upon my bed thinking on these things and staring at the
ceiling as I try to meditate myself into reverie. Our quest begins
tomorrow, all packing and preparation complete, our route decided,
our weapons polished and sharpened to a deadly gleam. It will be a
week's ride to our destination with only brief rests for meals and
meditative reverie and I find myself wondering anxiously if this
rest within my chambers will be the last I will know. I wonder also
what Erestor is thinking and if his thoughts are of me as mine are
of him. The mask he wears makes his expressions difficult to read,
and his concentration on the quest, understandable in light of what
we face, shows little of his true feelings. Facing the days ahead
would be easier if I knew whether our bond carried any special
significance for him.

A few more moments of doubt and anxious anticipation fill my
thoughts, but at last a quiet calmness steals over me and I am able
to slip into a spirit rejuvenating reverie.

My next awareness is of the pale light of dawn stealing across my
open eyes. I blink and sit up, stretching my unused limbs as I rise
and, with one final look at my rooms, take up my pack and head for
the stables. My eyes open wide when I reach the courtyard, finding
Erestor already mounted upon the midnight horse he calls Shadow
Runner. Next to them stands Asfaloth, stamping impatiently as the
groom holds him ready for me. I feed him an apple I have hidden
within my tunic and while he is contentedly munching, I tie my pack
onto him. Erestor and I both carry very little, just lembas and
water, having agreed to hunt and fish for the rest of our provisions.

Erestor is a startling, darkly engaging sight, sitting upon his
ebony horse dressed in unrelieved black. His leggings and tunic hug
his warrior honed body and his boots fit snugly about his strong
muscular calves. His hair is worn loose as always, and his mask just
enhances his dark beauty all the more. I can see the play of muscle
beneath the fabric of his clothing and cannot stop myself from
staring a beat too long.

His black cloak is held in place by a brooch centered with a blood
red ruby, across his chest is the harness holding his quiver and
twin knives that are strapped to his back. The arrows within are
ebon tipped, the handles of his knives made of obsidian.

On his right thigh is strapped a sheath holding a mithril handled
dagger, a dagger which matches the twin ones sticking up from his
boots. He is deadly grace and raven beauty and I feel my face flush
even as a deeper flush heats my loins. My eyes meet his and I see a
twinkling gleam flash within, making me lower my gaze at once.
Feeling my face burn, I quickly mount Asfaloth and look to where
Lord Elrond stands, having come to see us off. He hands Erestor a
scroll and nods to us. Giving him a nod in return, we both rein our
horses around and we are off.

We head south along Hithaeglir, what the mortals call the Misty
Mountains, following the same path as that of the Nine Walkers. The
first two days are uneventful but the third brings an Orc ambush.
The fighting is swift and brutal but we are fortunate in that the
numbers are not overwhelming. We dispatch the creatures swiftly, but
not before Erestor takes a minor wound to his upper arm. I feel his
anger and frustration span our bond as he removes his tunic to allow
me to bandage the cut. I do so without comment and we ride on until
it is time to make camp.

Our journey is swifter after the skirmish, for we do not know if the
Orcs we killed were spies or merely a scouting party for a nearby
colony. Pushing our horses and ourselves to our limits, we sight
Caradhras within the next two days and follow the surrounding hills
to its base, sighting constantly upward for signs of attack from
above. Upon the steep westerly face of the mountain, with the light
of Anar waning fast, we decide to make camp before going further,
planning to attack the summit by the next midday. We take the packs
from the horses and let them graze on the stubby vegetation and I
offer to go seek water and game while Erestor sets up camp and
watches our mounts. Looking up at the rocky path before us, I force
aside a twinge of trepidation then leave Erestor to go scout around.

Moving stealthily I walk along the mountainside until I hear the
sound of running water and, following it, come to a stream fed by
the snows high above. The stream has many fish and I am soon proudly
holding my prizes as I make my way back to camp. Looking around for
some herbs with which to flavor them, I find some wild thyme and
reach to pluck some, not noticing the stinging nettle until my hand
brushes it. With a gasp, I snatch back my hand and head back to
camp, hoping Erestor has managed to heat some water so that I might
soak my hand to remove the irritating barbs.

Erestor surprises me when I arrive by immediately reaching for me.
He takes first the fish and lays them aside before grasping my
hand.

"What did you do to yourself Glorfindel?" he asks with concern.

"It is nothing," I say, "just a nettle I was careless enough to
mistake for thyme."

"Not an easy mistake to make, I'm sure." he says, a small smile
quirking his lips. "I am sure we are lucky it was a nettle you
mistook and not deadly nightshade."

He has never made a joke before and I find myself a bit nonplussed
as he peers closer at my hand and then takes a healing balm from his
pack and begins to administer to swollen flesh. The balm immediately
removes the sting and when he has tended me, he goes about preparing
my catch, refusing to let me help him. After we have both eaten our
fill we sit and start to talk softly like we have done every night
since all had been revealed to me.

We make small talk for a time and then Erestor offers to take first
watch so that I may meditate and rest. I thank him but he can see
there is something I would know and so he says, in the soft way that
is his wont, "Glorfindel? Is something amiss?"

I cannot help but look at him curiously. "How did you know I had
injured myself Erestor? Is... Is it our bond? I tilt my head and
await an answer.

His black eyes meet mine and he grants me a smile and nod. "Aye
Glorfindel, it is our bond. It is something we shall always share
now."

"I... do not feel this bond as I thought I would." I say softly. "I
felt it a bit when you were wounded but... I do not feel it always."

"It is because you do not open yourself to it." Erestor said, his
eyes softening. "You have to make the choice to tune into it."

I swallow and meet his eyes hopefully, hesitantly. "I would like to
feel it." I say. It is a difficult admission for me and I see the
flicker of want in his eyes as he slowly reaches toward me.

My breath catches in my throat to feel the warmth of his hand so
close to my cheek, as my eyes are held captive by his. But, before
his fingers make contact, he flushes and lowers his head. When he
raises it again, his eyes are once more hooded and he goes to the
fire. "Rest Glorfindel, I will let you know when it is time for your
watch."

I nod and lie down, my heart beating rapidly in my chest as I watch
him put out the fire and pull his cloak around him, standing tall
and watchful nearby.

I try to rest but all I can see, all I can feel, is Erestor pulling
away just before his fingers touched me. I find I am not opposed to
the idea of his touch, after all he is my bonded mate, but he had
touched me intimately once before and... I wonder if his hesitation
is due to what he discovered within me as he plumbed the depths of
my mind.

The next thing I know it is morning, my reverie having lasted all
night. I push aside the blanket with which Erestor must have covered
me in the night and stand. He offers me a packet of lembas and hands
me my water skin. I look into his eyes, feeling myself drown in
their depths before he finally looks away.

"Why did you not wake me for my turn at watch?" I ask him.

"You needed your rest more than I Glorfindel. My training allows me
to focus deeper and longer than I was able to teach you in our short
time together. We face our enemy today, if the spells bring him
forth as planned. We must both be at our peak."

I accept his answer without question and the rest of the morning is
spent in going over once more what is to be done. We break camp and
ride as far up the mountain as we are able, then dismount and walk
our horses, leaving them some half mile from the summit. We climb
the rest of the way in silence and as we reach the top, Erestor
turns to me and I see for the first time true concern in his eyes.

"Glorfindel... I must remove my mask for this." he says.

My stomach clenches in fear and I know he can see it, feel it
through our bond. I nod wordlessly, watching as he removes all of
his weapons, save his daggers, and reaches for the mask...

I suppress my gasp as he uncovers his ravaged face, averting my eyes
as I take up my position. He moves to the peak, standing upon the
precipice and I stand about thirty feet behind him and to his left.

I watch as he grounds himself and then slowly raises his arms above
his head, his legs spread. I had forgotten until this moment the
wound upon his arm but he shows no sign of discomfort as the winds
rise and begin to lash around his body as if a small whirlwind
touches him. He is dangerous and fell as his hair is lifted to whip
around his unmasked face. His cloak snaps in the wind as a pennant
would when a heavy breeze tears at it upon a parade field.

"Dragulur ob ghaash -izg urdanog lat u zo."

I feel myself pale and grow sick at the sound of the black speech
and I shake myself angrily. I need to focus.

"Nudit dragulur ob Morgoth ghaash -izg urdanog lat u zo."

I watch in awe as his body starts to glow a dazzling white and the
ruby on his cloak brightens like a small sun shining at his throat.
The wind increases sharply, rising to almost gale force and he
stands within the heart of the storm, his cloak snapping with the
crack of a thunderclap. He is deadly beauty, a creature of light and
darkness such as I have never witnessed, as his voice rings out in
command.

"Furthurz! Daggog u izg urdan!"

My stomach clenches in horror as I hear the first screaming roar in
answer to his summons, feel the foundation of the mountain on which
we stand shake nearly knocking me from my feet. Erestor stands
unmoved, continuing the summons as he waits for the creature to come
to him from the depths. A length of time I cannot reckon passes as
Erestor holds his position, the chant never wavering as the wind
screeches around us.

Then, a blaze of orange fringed in black smoke flickers from below
the rim of the precipice on which Erestor stands, like the light
from a great bonfire. The pure white energies crackling around
Erestor grow brighter still until I can no longer see his black clad
figure within.

The malefic demon rises from the rim of the mountain and I hear
above the storm my voice ring out a terrified cry. The creature's
enormous wings beat once, the stench of fire and brimstone fills my
nostrils, and I fight to remember my training, to feel the trust in
Erestor, as the Balrog rises impossibly high above him, its face a
black abyss of evil with two flaming, soul-rending eyes fixed
maliciously upon the white light that is my husband.

Through the howling wind I hear Erestor continue his chant.

"Ghaash u lutaum ghaash
izg krampum katu skug kul barzuga
dagulur ob ghaash -izg katu u zaduk lat!"

The great beast bellows out his challenge, making me quake in fear,
but Erestor stands fast. I watch in horror as the demon's fiery
flail is raised and just as he starts to bring it down Erestor cries
out, "Shield!"

The whip is deflected by a shimmering white shield that glows about
him. He repeats his chant and is met a shriek of rage.

"We are here at the altar of your undoing - fire to battle fire,
beast of flame. We will do our sworn duty, we will destroy you! You
will not have Imladris!"

The Balrog lashes out again, the whip crashing into the energies
protecting Erestor but visibly weakening them. Now I can again see
Erestor and his wounded arm is trembling as he fights to maintain
the shield around him.

I watch as the demon unsheathes his sword of fire and my limbs come
to life as I scream my own battle cry! I run forward, my fears
forgotten, and my roar of challenge is swallowed up by the winds.
The air crackles with energies which flood through me, giving me
strength as I engage the demon.

Steel clashes with fiery steel when our swords meet and I scream as
horrific, searing heat floods my being. I can feel the blistering of
my skin as I parry the creature's blow, barely registering the fact
that Erestor continues to chant, the rage of the beast permeating
the air as I fight on desperately.

The energies Erestor is creating steadily flood my being and I fall
to the ground at Erestor's shouted command. An explosion of heat
singes the top of my head and I hear the Balrog bellow in pain as a
blast of his own foulness is deflected back to him by the dark
spell. I roll immediately to my feet and use the Balrog's
distraction to my advantage, driving my blade deep into his gut,
screaming at the pain that races up my arm and ignites my soul. I
let go of the sword and stagger back, watching as the Balrog's feet
scrabble for purchase on the lip of the precipice, its wings
crumpling as it begins to die.

Gasping, tears of pain streaming from my eyes. I turn to Erestor
with a grimace of triumph. His face fills with horror and I start to
turn, but before my eyes leave his, I feel my hair grasped by a
huge, fiery claw.

"No!" I scream, my voice a mere whisper in the whipping wind, as my
feet leave the ground. 'Not this time,' my mind pleads, but there is
no one to hear. I feel our bond at last as the pain and regret that
spans two Ages wrenches our souls apart.

*****************************************

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication

Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation

Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in

To the power of the music that I write

The power of the music of the night


He falls, following the lifeless body of the Balrog over the edge of
the mountain, and I look on in dazed horror, my mind unable to grasp
what I have just witnessed. When the realization comes, I find I am
screaming, that I have been screaming for some time, in pained
agony. I scramble to the edge, cradling my wounded arm with my
uninjured one, trying to sight him - but I can see nothing. Jagged
rocks block my view of the bottom and only tendrils of wispy smoke
mark where they fell.

I stagger back from the brink, falling to my knees, curling my body
until my head touches the stony ground, ceaselessly screaming and
pleading for it not to be so, not now, not when our bond has finally
been forged. Pain sears through my chest, through my brain, as the
cruel images replay themselves over and over in my mind.
I wail piercingly at the memory of his horror-filled eyes, eyes that
met mine in that last moment before he fell, eyes that told me he
loved me, that begged my forgiveness. I shout my love for him into
the whipping wind, a love I knew fully only at the moment it was
ripped from my grasping hands.

I lose all concept of time, lying in torment, my mind befogged by
misery. The urge to cast myself over the precipice and join him in
death is powerful but I know we can never be reunited if I do so,
for Namo will not allow it. I beg Namo to spare me the devastation
of my spirit and take me to his halls, to bring me peace, to reunite
me with the one who holds my heart. Receiving no reply to my fervent
plea, I curse him; I curse all the Valar in my grief.

Only peripherally do I register the turning of the days as I lie
upon the mountain's gusty summit, continually pleading and crying
and raging until I am drained of everything except the bitter tears
that flow without shame and with little abatement down my weather
chapped cheeks. Eventually even the tears stop and I lie in spirit-
deadened silence, the darkness of my soul wrapped around me like a
shroud.

In the end I know I must quit the mountain. I cannot spend the
entirety of my existence on this peak, and the seed of an idea has
formed in my thoughts. Perhaps Elrond can help me. Perhaps he can
use his gift of foresight to see if there is a chance my love and I
will find each other again. I rise, not knowing what else to do, and
begin my lonely trek down the mountainside, the black mask held
loosely in my hand. My heart throbs miserably, like a fresh wound,
and my body aches with bone numbing weariness from the energies
expended in battle and grief. I release the finality of my anguished
tears in a solemn farewell, refusing to say good-bye.

Before I can depart I must seek out the horses, who have wandered in
my absence in search of food and water. Finding them down the slope,
at the site where we had made our camp that first night, I call them
to me. I grasp Shadow Runner's reins and hook the mask to his
saddle, casting myself outward as I try once more to feel him
through our bond.

Nothing.

No emotion at all, no pain, no sadness, no longing save my own. I
lean upon the horse's neck, clinging to him, crying out the agony
that is solely my own to feel. The horse shies and I pull away,
patting him reassuringly. I mount and take the other horse's lead,
starting the long journey back. I leave all else behind.

Stopping only long enough to let the horses take water, eat, and
rest, I make my way back to Imladris, a place that once was home but
which no longer holds joy for me. My heart is still upon the peak of
Caradhras with the howling wind, still at its jagged base with my
husband's scattered ruin. Numbness invades my soul, shame filling me
at the knowledge that I will have to tell Elrond that we have
failed - that I have failed - in securing our mission and returning
us both whole and alive.

I look down into the waterfall-and-rainbow-filled valley that has
been my home for nearly an age, and once again feel my heart
contract in painful grief. Riding along the bridge that spans the
Bruinen, I am greeted by an escort who sees my heartbreak and simply
leads me on in grieved silence to the courtyard of the Last Homely
House.

I raise my head, and my tear-filled eyes meet those of my lord. I
can see that his gift has shown him this possibility, but I can also
tell by his stunned expression that he did not, until this moment,
know which of us would be lost. His face falls, his eyes welling
with despairing tears as I dismount and go to meet him. He walks
toward me stiffly, our streaming eyes twin mirrors of suffering, and
then suddenly I am sobbing in his arms and he in mine. His tears wet
my tunic and despite all those gathered about, we sink to our knees,
clinging one to the other as we give voice to our sorrow.

Those who witness our heartbreak show their respect by hanging back,
and yet none leave. They share their silent tears with us, the whole
of Imladris mourning the loss of one so loved by their Lord.

Elrond finally pulls back, looking deeply, searchingly, into my eyes.

"Tell me everything Glorfindel."

I lower my head, unable to look at him in my shame, and say
brokenly, "I failed him my lord, and this time I have lost something
dearer than my life."

We stand shakily, he helping me to my feet and I helping support him
as we repair to his chambers. I sink heavily into a chair by the
fire and watch as he pours two glasses of miruvor. I take mine with
an unsteady hand and wait until he is seated before I drink, the
invigorating liquid infusing my exhausted body with a bit of much
needed strength.

"When you are able..." Elrond says softly, his grey eyes misty with
tears.

I look at my glass as he moves to sit next to me, his arm going
around me in silent support as I begin to speak.

"On our way to Caradhras we were attacked by Orcs. Only a bit of
sword work, but Erestor's arm was wounded. We hastened our travels
and reached the mountain without further incident. There we made our
way to the summit and prepared for battle as planned. Erestor called
forth the demon and the Balrog answered his summons. I have never
seen anything like the sight Erestor presented, standing upon the
peak chanting the Black Speech as the foul beast appeared. We
fought, Erestor wielding the spells, I the sword. The Balrog was
weakened by Erestor's chant and I saw an opening. Rushing to the
edge of the cliff, I drove my sword into the creature, killing it.

My sword arm was burning, my lungs seared by the heat, but I felt
triumph and joy nonetheless. When the beast started to fall, I made
the same error as the first time, Elrond; I turned away, only
realizing my mistake for what it was when I saw the look of horror
in Erestor's eyes.

It was like being in Gondolin again and I relived in that instant
the horror of my first death. I felt my hair snatched, felt myself
being pulled to my doom once again. My eyes met Erestor's and I saw
rage fill them. He reached down swiftly, his movements a blur to the
eye, and hurled a dagger. Even as it left his fingertips he ran
toward me. I felt the dagger shear my hair and I struggled to keep
my balance on the ledge, my feet slipping on the rocky shelf. But
before I fell, he was there. He reached out and grasped the front of
my tunic, jerking me away from the precipice to safety."

I stop long enough to take a deep breath and down my miruvor in one
go. Then I continue with the painful tale as Elrond fills my glass
once more.

"I gasped in relief, thinking our ordeal over at last. Then I saw
it. The tail of the Balrog's whip snapped upward with a life of its
own, catching Erestor's wrist. The last I saw was the ripple of his
hair as he was pulled to down to his death."

"I have failed him Elrond, failed in our mission, failed my
husband ... I failed our bond," I choke.

"No, Glorfindel." Elrond says firmly. "You and Erestor did not fail.
Erestor did what he had trained for a thousand years to do. You did
what you were reborn to do, to save the realm you have sworn to
protect. The creature is dead, Imladris is saved. You and Erestor
have secured the future of your people." He grasped me by the
shoulders and shook me gently. I looked up into his eyes, blinking
hard as the tears threatened to fall again. "Do not let your grief
blind you to the fact that Erestor took this risk with full
knowledge of the possible outcome, as did you. It could as easily be
Erestor here telling this tale. Do not seek to place blame where
there is none to be found."

I close my eyes and nod, knowing his words are true. But my grief is
not solely for the time Erestor and I will never have, but also for
the time lost through my reticence in acknowledging our bond. I open
my eyes and look up at Elrond with the last bit of hope left to me.
"My lord, I have never asked you about your gift of foresight..."
"I cannot help you, Glorfindel. What you seek is not known to me."
Elrond says sadly.

"Then you have lost your seneschal as well." I whisper as the tears
come again.

**********************

A memorial service is held, the whole of Imladris singing a lament
for their fallen warrior, and afterward I spend the night in his
chambers, wrapped in his blankets and clutching his pillows,
shedding tears of sorrow, tears of pain, tears of rage, shearing off
my warrior's braids in mourning of a love lost. The following days
bleed indiscriminately together and I walk through them a spiritless
body, a shell animated only by the base needs of survival, to
breathe, to eat, to drink.

I cannot relinquish the thought that he was taken from me before I
truly got to know him, taken when our bond was so new. But as the
days slip one into the other, I find my grief does not ease, nor do
I find myself fading from my perpetual sorrow. Elrond worries for
me, fears I will follow Erestor to the Halls of Waiting, but I do
not. This puzzles me and I wonder if this means he yet lives. Elrond
tells me that if the bond was not true, I will not fade, but I knew
at the moment of his death the bond was true, and I feel the
strength of it still - though my attempts to reach him through it
are met with nothing but empty silence.

For weeks afterward I plan a trip back to the foot of Caradhras to
try to find his body or some sign he might still be alive. Elrond
discourages me, saying the winter is coming on and the passes are
too dangerous. At first I refuse to hear him, but then there is an
early snow and I am forced to abandon my plans. I am inconsolable
and spend the winter planning to go at first thaw and studying maps
and checking the weather patterns. My patrols suffer and Elrond
threatens to remove me from the rotation if I do not quit my
obsession with going back. After that I force myself back into my
routine, spending every extra moment continuing my plans.

Elrond fears I may again carry the Balrog's stain within and I allow
him to probe my mind with Vilya. He pronounces me free from the evil
that Erestor had removed from my soul and I feel relief. I walk in
forest that night to the place where we had our first and only
physical encounter and the longing for his touch, the wish to feel
his brush against my mind again, brings me sobbing to my knees. I
send out a plea for him not to give up hope.

"I will come for you, Erestor. If you live, open yourself to me and
I will find you," I beg silently.

At the first sign of spring, I pack for my journey. Elrond insists
on accompanying me along with his sons, for support he says, though
I think it is through fear I might harm myself. But if I did not
follow Erestor into the abyss a year ago I will not do so now. Now,
giving up hope seems to me the worst thing I could do.

The passes are difficult, but clear, and our journey brings no
ambush as we feared. At the base of the mighty mountain we search
the jagged rocks for Erestor's body or for any clues that will tell
us his fate.

Upon our second pass I hear Elrohir call out and I go to him. He is
holding a broken dagger, the dagger Erestor had used to save my
life. I hold it like a sacred object, fingering the mithril hilt as
I see in my mind's eye Erestor throwing the dagger, feel a phantom
brush against my head at the memory of my hair sheared, smell the
brimstone of the Balrog's flame, taste the bitterness of loss when
Erestor falls. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and sink to my knees,
clutching the dagger's hilt to my heaving breast. Cruel is the fate
that returns to me the object of my salvation while keeping hidden
its possessor.

I sit by the fire that night, fingering his mask which I now carry
with me at all times, the broken dagger by my side, lost in my
thoughts. Elrond and his sons have not said so, and I cannot bring
myself to speak it, but there is no reason to try again tomorrow for
we have found no other sign the mighty battle ever occurred. When we
returned to camp, we packed our belongings for the journey back
without a word, each of us knowing the truth.

Elrond silently comes to me to treat my sword arm, its continual
pain having grown worse in the past few days. Whether from the
lingering cold of winter or the proximity to the mountain I cannot
say.

Elrond says nothing for a long time but finally speaks, "You could
not expect to find him after all this time, Glorfindel." he says
softly. "He is gone, you must accept this."

I nod absently, not actually willing to take his advice but hoping
to stave off further comment. He falls silent, knowing my apparent
assent hides a willful heart, and I am left with my thoughts of
Erestor.

I see his scarred face that day as he fought, see the midnight waves
of his hair as he plummeted over the precipice, see the look of
regret in his tortured eyes. Reliving the horror I had witnessed, I
now knew how he felt that day long ago when I fell. My head falls
forward and I swallow the sob that rises to my throat.

'I will see you again, Erestor, I promise you this upon my life.'
We make the journey back, forced to skirt a gang of human outlaws
and two companies of Orcs before we reach the safety of the valley
at last. In the following days, my obsession with finding Erestor
does not abate, but I find I have no idea what my next move should
be.

I once again take up my duties, but again my patrols are marked by
careless indifference to my own safety and Elrond is forced to
remove me from the rotation and, eventually, to appoint a new
seneschal. I am saddened at first but then find that the removal of
my responsibilities allows me to indulge my obsession, my obsession
to find my love.

Elrond's attempts to steer me from my path only make me more
determined. He tells me it dishonors Erestor's memory to let my life
slip by in fruitless hope but I do not listen to his counsel. I am
the one who is bonded to him, I am the one who knows if he lives and
my heart tells me he does. I know it is so for I would have faded if
he were truly dead. Not even the Lord of Imladris can make me see
the folly of believing a thing that cannot be and so I begin to
search for him. I go out on my own, leaving the safety and
protection of the valley, searching, ever searching.

The Elves of Imladris are as saddened by the change in me as Lord
Elrond. Some try to speak to me, to urge me to come back to my life,
but I simply cannot. Eventually all leave me alone, for my only
conversation centers around the places I have been and the places I
have yet to search.

And as the years slip away, as Arda changes around Imladris and
Elrond's power dims, I see it not for I have but one purpose. The
seasons change and I mark them only as they relate to my quest -
winter when all travel must cease but when much reading and planning
may be done, spring when the thaw comes and my melancholy gives way
to excitement of the coming chase, summer when the days of travel
are plentiful and the trees sing their songs of promise, and then
autumn when the days grow short and my memories of him turn to
bitter ash as the fires of the Last Homely House blaze away the
dying nights.

Then, one day, Elrond comes to me. He looks at me gravely and
says, "It is time Glorfindel."

"Time for what, my lord?"

"We are the last, Glorfindel, we are becoming as ghosts on these
shores. The time has come to make our way to the Havens."

"NO!"

Elrond sighs and places a hand on my shoulder, looking deeply into
my eyes, making one last try reach me through reason. "He is dead
Glorfindel. Let him rest in peace. Perhaps one day the Valar may
allow him to be reborn. If you sail with us, you may be reunited."

"Reborn?"

"Aye, Glorfindel, reborn. You will not find him on these shores.
Isn't it time you sought him elsewhere?"

"Then why did I not die with him? We were bonded, Elrond."

"Then why has he not sought you? If your bond were as strong as you
believe, he would have come back. Remember how once he saved you
from an obsession, and that obsession was for him. He is no longer
here to save you from yourself, Glorfindel. You must be strong in
this, strong enough to let go. You have your memories, and your
love, they will have to be enough."

I lowered my head and wept silently. Elrond waited until I looked at
him once more. "You are wise, my lord. The time has come to say
goodbye at last."

Elrond squeezed my arm and nodded. "We leave in a fortnight."

I made one last pilgrimage to the place where our battle was fought,
to the place where I had lost him once and was now prepared to lose
him again, this time forever. I relived my most painful memories of
him but also found a kind of healing in the decision to move on. For
too long had I held on to what could never be, and in the process I
had lost myself as surely as I had lost him.

What a poor homage to his memory it was to have surrendered to grief
when he had refused to surrender me, even in his final moments, to a
Balrog of Morgoth. I throw a fresh bloomed rose over the side of the
mountain, a rose I had brought from the gardens in Rivendell, to
mark where he fell. I take the broken dagger and cut my hair, as he
had done on that day, then I plait it into a braid and tuck it in
the pocket of my leggings. I will carry it to Valinor and make a
place of honor for it, his dagger, and his mask. I will sing a song
of lament and then I will at last be free. I will keep his memory
within and stop seeking for him without.

"Erestor," I say, "now I have only my few memories of you but I
treasure each of them. I hear you say my name; I see your smile,
feel the warmth of your embrace. There is nothing but silence now.
Without you I am lost and this silence is a pall upon my spirit.
Forgive me for sailing without you, but it is time for me to say
farewell."

I leave the mountainside for the last time, my heart aching with
loss but my eyes clear and full of a new strength of purpose.
Perhaps Elrond is right, I think to myself, perhaps Erestor and I
will be reunited on the shores of Valinor. I hold the thought all
the way back to Imladris, where I find the bustle of Elves busily
making ready to depart. My eyes meet Elrond's across the courtyard
and I give him a small smile as I dismount and go to him. He smiles
in return and claps me on the back, glad to see I have come back in
better spirits than when I left.

"We have all of your things packed Glorfindel, his too. We will take
his possessions with us as a reminder of our love for him."

"I understand it now, my lord; he is gone, truly gone. I cannot feel
him within my mind or within my heart. I am ready."

"Everything happens in its time, Glorfindel. You will find peace in
Aman my friend."

I looked searchingly into Elrond's eyes. "Do you think there is that
hope, my lord?"

He smiled. "There is always hope."


***************

We have been on the road for a week and my heart once again grows
heavy, not only to be leaving my quest but to be leaving this world
as well, a world of such life and beauty that I had to return to it
as soon as possible after my rebirth. Only one more week and we
would reach the Grey Havens and take ship to Aman.

As we took the oddly winding paths of the Old Forest, an odd feeling
overcomes me and I draw Asfaloth to a halt, looking into the
darkness of the dense trunks beyond the path. An urge, nay a
compulsion, to leave the path and wander among the tall old trees
takes hold of me, and I slide from Asfaloth as he snorts in
confusion. Patting his neck reassuringly, I bid him stay and walk
from the path.

Elrond rides up and calls to me. "Glorfindel, do not go in there,
the paths are dangerous and changeable. The trees still do not
suffer strangers, not even Elves, to wander unmolested beneath their
branches."

I turn to him briefly but my gaze is drawn to the forest again.
Shaking off the feeling, I turn and start toward Asfaloth. Yet the
feeling washes over me once more, stronger and more insistent.

"I will catch up with you, my lord." I say offhandedly "I only wish
to look around for a moment, and I fear no tree upon Arda. All will
be well. Pray continue and I will return shortly."

Before Elrond can speak, I walk quickly off the path and into the
forest. The trees are abnormally silent, as though watching me, but
I feel no evil. On the contrary, what draws me on seems to evoke no
malice from them as I walk between trunks so dense I must at times
turn my body to squeeze through. For a time I am so intent on merely
making my way through the trees I lose all sense of time and
distance.

Then the trees suddenly thin out, the way becoming easy and
unobstructed, and I break through into a large clearing, the sight
before me causing me to gasp in surprise.

Before me stand the crumbling ruins of a large building of Elven
design. The stones of its broken walls seem to seep into the
surrounding earth, while those still standing are overgrown with
moss, grass, and weeds. Walls, once strong but now decaying badly,
struggle to support a sagging roof which in some places has caved
in. I pick my way through the worn, uneven stones of what was once a
large courtyard, seeing at its edge a garden gone to seed, a few
flowering weeds providing small spots of color in the green-brown
grasses.

Strangely, seeing this place gives me feelings of both belonging and
foreboding, though why I cannot understand for I have never been
here before. I did not even know this place existed.

I slowly make my way inside, choosing my path carefully due to the
state of disrepair of the structure. My heart quickens, my breath
coming harsher. I know not why, but somehow I feel my destiny lies
within this building.

Exploring the rooms, I see the inside is quite austere, almost like
that of a holy place. Few objects are left, a bed in one room, a
broken mirror in another. One room contains a kitchen area and a
large dining table toppled on its side, one leg missing and another
splintered. As I pass through the building, I touch the walls, the
dusty furniture thoughtfully, wonderingly. Was this what I was meant
to find? Is this why the forest drew me here?

At last I come upon the innermost sanctuary, an inner courtyard with
a large oak tree still growing, still living, within its center.
This garden mirrors the layout of the one in the outside courtyard,
the weeds here also choking out plants that cling to a life from
long ago.

But what catches my attention, makes my heart clench, is the
familiar image depicted on a mural upon the back wall. Through the
peeling, faded paint, I see two figures standing on a stark cliff
face. One has waves of dark hair and is standing with his back to
the viewer, light emanating from his form, his arms raised, facing
down a creature of shadow, a Balrog! The other figure is in shadow
but carries a shining sword.

Fragments of words are written over the picture and I study them
closely, realizing they are part of a verse of some kind. I piece
them together slowly, trying to make sense of them.

"Shadow arising...slayers...Balrog's flail... demon...grave and
fell..."

My voice falters as I remember the prophesy and suddenly, as though
the years are rolled back, I hear Erestor's whispered words...

"Fire and shadow, arising in might, slayers to come in the darkest
of night. Both will be marked with Balrog's flail, and in their
quest they must not fail. Leading them both, the one with dark hair,
will call the Balrog from his lair. Armed with sword and armed with
spell, to defeat the demon grave and fell."

This was the place of spiritual healing to which Erestor had been
brought, where for a thousand years he was trained in the arts of
the assassin, trained in the spells and techniques that allowed him
to wield and control them, trained to what he was foreseen to do.
The place he was trained to fulfill the prophecy that brought us
together.

I gazed, awestruck, at the mural, tears flowing unabashedly down my
cheeks as memories swept me into a maelstrom of despair. When
finally I am able to tear my gaze from the mural, the sun has moved
across the sky, the dying rays striking a small altar set to one
side of the wall, an altar I had not noticed until now.

There upon the altar lay a single flower, a golden rose. I tilted my
head, amazed to see the fresh bloom in a place abandoned, forgotten
by the world. I touched the delicate petals with trembling fingers
and then slowly lifted it to my nose, inhaling its still fresh
scent. Someone had placed it there not long before. I stared down at
the golden blossom and then froze.

Golden flower?

My mind spun, it was not the flower of my house and yet...

"Erestor." I whispered.

"Erestor!" I shouted.

Clutching the golden rose in my hand tightly, I run from the
building and out into the weed-filled garden.

"Erestor?"

With the blood pounding in my ears, I fight to center myself, to
focus within, open the link to our bond. Faintly I hear an answer, a
tremulous wisp of pain that almost as quickly fades. But it was
there, there is no doubt!

"Erestor!"

I run into the surrounding forest, concentrating on keeping the link
open, calling his name as I dash headlong through the trees, not
even watching my footing among the gnarled roots at my feet. I call
his name wildly, begging him to let me in, begging him to make
himself known to me. The trees seem to part, easing my passage and I
follow the path they set, stopping when I hear the sound of a brook
nearby. Breaking through the trees, I see a meadow of golden flowers
with a stream running through the center. There before me is a black-
clad figure. His body is bent, his arm twisted at his side. With
head bowed, he stands beside the brook, his long hair hiding his
scarred face.

"Erestor." I whisper reverently.

Slowly he raises his head to look at me, his face a grotesque mask;
the scars that mar his features are deeply red, like a fresh burn.
His ebon eyes bore into mine and my spirit fails me, for I see no
welcome there.

"You should not have come," he rasps.

"Why did you not come back to me?" I blurt out. If our end is to be
here, then I must know; I must hear from his own lips that he has
renounced our bond.

"Return to you as this... a broken husk, an empty shell?" his voice
is angry but cracks with emotion held in for a very long
time. "Before I was merely scarred and what I saw in your eyes when
you looked upon me was nearly my undoing. I cannot bear to have you
look upon me now, to see in your perfect eyes horror, or worse,
pity. Leave me! Go back to Imladris and forget me. I am dead and
should have remained so."

I go to him and reach out to touch his mottled face. He flinches
away, averting his eyes and a single tear slips down his cheek.
"Look into my eyes," I urge him gently, "and if you see aught but
love within their depths I will leave, though I cannot return to
Imladris for the last of us, including Elrond, sail from the Havens
within the week."

I can see he is startled by this and he raises his eyes to search
mine. For a moment, his guard lowers. For a moment I see both love
and wild hope flare within his eyes like a shooting star blazes
across a night sky. Then, as quickly as that same star burns out its
glory in seconds, I see the look die.

And part of my soul dies with it.

"Then you must sail." he says flatly and turns away from me.
I watch how he struggles to straighten his twisted body, despite the
obvious pain it causes him, and I reach out though the bond, forcing
my way past the barrier he raises even as I reach out to him with my
words.

"I searched for you, my love, for all the years since you fell.
Never did I give up hope until the last when Elrond convinced me to
replace one hope with another, the hope I would find in Valinor what
countless years have denied me - you. Could you not feel my attempts
to reconnect us through our bond? Could you not feel my sorrow? I
hesitated to fully accept our bond at first, I do not deny it, but
when I saw the flail catch your wrist, when I saw your eyes, when I
felt..."

Overcome, I touch his shoulder and turn him to me, looking into his
ruined face pleadingly. "Why, Erestor? Why could I not feel you all
this time? Why would you not allow me to find you, to help you?"
He looks at me but cannot hold my pleading gaze. Before he looks
away I flinch from the anguish I see in his eyes as he begins the
tale.

"When the flail caught me and pulled me over the cliff, I felt
you... us... truly for the first time even as the soul-rending pain
of the fiery whip drove me toward unconsciousness. I refused to give
in, knowing I could yet save myself if I could maintain the shield
spell. I tried to focus, to draw upon the energies but the next
thing I knew I was lying broken among the rocks at the bottom of
Caradhras. The spell had saved me, but left me shattered in body and
spirit. I lay at the foot of the mountain for days, the pain beyond
anything I had ever mastered, unable to move or send myself to you
through our bond.

Inch by excruciating inch I crawled into a hollow between two of the
great stones, existing on lembas and the water that dripped from the
walls as I fought to hold on, to use my meager store of herbs and
energies to heal myself. Through the pain, through days and nights
of willing myself to survive, my thoughts of you were all that
sustained me. Thinking of your beauty, your perfection, the love I
felt for you since the first moment I had seen you in Gondolin,
bolstered me as I drifted between this world and the Halls of
Waiting. At last the turning point came and I was fully in the world
again. I reached out to you through our bond but what I felt nearly
ripped away my fragile spirit."

Here he paused and looked at me, and what I saw in his eyes tore at
my soul.

"The agony of my body was bearable, Glorfindel, but your grief
across our bond was not. I had to close off the bond from my side. I
had to let you go. I knew I could never return to you this broken
thing when your thoughts of me were of the strong warrior you had
known..." Erestor's voice broke and he gazed at me, his eyes no
longer guarded or severe but openly filled with a pain so vast the
whole of Arda could not fill its span.

"I do not have the strength to lose you again," he said
quietly, "but I am too diminished in body and mind to sail. I beg
you with what is left of my shattered spirit to sail with the
others, to take with you the fragment of me that remains in you to
Valinor and use it to heal your heart at last, to live the life that
was returned to you, to live for the both of us."

"NO!"

He looks at me, shocked by the force of my denial. I feel anger well
up within me and then the soothing touch of his spirit against mine,
calming me as he had done before.

"Glorfindel, I am beyond the sight of men or Elves, so faded is my
soul. If it were not for our bond, you would not even know I was
standing before you. It is too late for me, but not for you. Leave
me, you must."

For the first time I see the truth in what he says, the darkness
which now surrounds us, the blackness of his clothing, makes him
appear almost an apparition to my eyes.

I seize him in a fierce embrace and he stiffens. Then his arms come
up hesitantly, almost fearfully, to clasp me to him as hard as he is
able with his all-but-paralyzed arm.

"Through all these years I have searched for you, my love." I say as
I move to stroke his hair. "We are bonded, we are one, and I will
not leave you. If your fate is to fade beyond the sight of men and
Elves then I too shall fade at last and our houseless spirits shall
roam together until the ending of the world, when we shall both be
made whole and new and never be parted again."

"How can you love me?" he asks. "I am nothing, I am monstrous, an
Orc spirit in an Elf's body."

"Just as you have loved me before my fall, I have loved you since I
came to Imladris." I smile, looking into his eyes. "I tried to deny
it, I fought it, but it was always there, my desire for you, my love
for you. I know you felt it when you bonded with me to save me from
the taint upon my soul. If you could love me, with such evil
staining me, how could I fail to love the purity, the selfless
strength in you?"

"You...you love me?" he asks, as though he does not dare hope to
hear me say it again.

"I love you Erestor," I smile, "my savior... my husband."

Gently I claim his lips and the kiss is as sweet as the dew upon
roses at the first hour of dawn. The memory of our bonding comes to
me and I feel, as though for the first time, his cool touch upon my
fevered body. Our spirits join each to the other and we walk into
the forest, the trees opening a path before us, our fingers
intertwined as a soft swirl of music fills the air. The haunting
melody that captured my heart the day Erestor and I had made our
soul-pledge.

Somewhere upon the altar of a crumbling holy place lies a black
leather mask with a single golden rose upon it, a rose as fresh and
unspoiled as the houseless spirits of two faded lovers.

You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night.

THE END