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Istari Love
Disclaimer: this installment is for the sole purpose of entertainment both the author and the readers.
I do not intent to make money of it, so please don't sue me.
All characters unless noted otherwise are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien.
Pairing: Gandalf/Saruman, Glorfindel/Erestor, Glorfindel-Gandalf-friendship
Beta-read by Cara, all remaining mistakes are intended and for the amusement of the valued reader.
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“Now, where is he?” Glorfindel muttered under his breath. He had searched the whole house, even the unlikely locations of the highest turrets. Unthinkable that Erestor would take the pains of mounting so many steps. Not with those feet. //Or with what is left of them.//
So the golden-haired warrior made his way into the gardens, methodically searching the vicinity. He was about to give up and ask the stable-hands if the Counsellor had ridden off for some reason, when he heard a light ringing sound that was not of natural origin. It reminded him of glasses brought together in cheerful company and in this remote part of the vale, it seemed very out of place.
Following the sound to its source he found the dark Noldo sitting in a small clearing, his upper body leaning against an ancient oak.
“Erestor! We were missing you at the dinner-table. Without your tongue present the knives seemed sharp all of a sudden again.” Glorfindel grinned, awaiting the acid retort he was sure would come in no time.
“Get losssht.” Erestor mumbled, not even bothering to glance up.
Glorfindel cocked his head. The comment was not only very unlike Erestor in its blunt simplicity, it sounded… strange. “What was that? Did the fresh air blow away your polished command of the Noble Tongue? Do you even start to speak like ordinary elves in the end?”
When there was no answer, Glorfindel took a few steps closer, sensing that there had to be something wrong with Erestor. It was when his foot made contact with a hard, smooth object that he smelled the alcohol. The bottle he had nudged in the grass rolled against another one, producing that ringing sound that had led him to this place in the beginning.
Erestor was drunk?!
Glorfindel could not remember having ever seen the Noldorin Counselor in such a state before! He squatted down in front of the other elf. “Erestor, are you drunk?”
“Yesss. Why donn you leave me alllone?” Erestor slurred. He was in the rare, blissful state of drunkenness when the mind almost fully disconnected from the body. The Counsellor attempted to push Glorfindel away, but he missed broadly and would have fallen to his side had not Glorfindel forseen such. His strong arm darted out and stopped the fall.
“Easy, friend.” He said calmly. With both hands on Erestor’s shoulders he righted the other elf and leant him against the trunk once again.
“How much did you drink?”
“Hmmm?” Erestor squinted as if his impaired vision would clean up then. His mind had been wandering and he had not understood what the other elf had asked.
“How many bottles did you drink?” Glorfindel clarified his question.
Erestor stared at him, head moving about like an owl fixating its prey. “’Lorrrfinnelll?”
“Yes, it’s me, Glorfindel. By the Valar, Erestor, you are royally drunk! What happened?” By now the reborn elf was truly concerned about his harsh friend’s well-being.
“Hurss.”
“What?” by the Valar, Erestor’s mumbling was barely discernible! Glorfindel crept closer, catching a whiff of the Counsellor’s alcoholic breath. //My, this is enough to get drunk only from breathing!// ((*Just seems to read better like this...))
“OW!”
“Did I hurt you?” Glorfindel quickly looked around to see if he had accidentally knelt on Erestor’s long mane.
“Me. Allll offff…. Mmme.” He hiccupped.
“Are you sick, Erestor?” Glorfindel was at a loss for the moment.
An elegant hand reached for the buttons of his heavy formal robes with unbecoming clumsiness. Erestor bared his chest to Glorfindel, revealing the ugly criss-crossing of old scars “Thisss hurrrrss you dull…. You shonnnofannnorc…” The Counsellor’s curses trickled off into some unintelligible muttering.
Glorfindel stared.
True, he had once undressed Erestor, but he had tried not to look because the other elf had been so incredibly uncomfortable exposing himself. So now it was the first time he actually took a good look. To actually *see* what had been done to the elf was shocking, even to a battle-worn elf like Glorfindel. The times of harsh battles had long gone and Glorfindel – as well as most other elves – was no longer used to seeing such. Blood and gore were things gratefully forgotten in the mists of myths.
After a long silence Glorfindel stood. “Let me take you home, old friend.” He said softly.
Erestor snorted deprecatingly. Even if he were whole, in his actual state he was absolutely incapable of walking anywhere. Plus, he felt quite nice here under the canopy of trees.
Without further ado, Glorfindel bent and gathered the much lighter elf in his arms. Erestor’s unintelligible protests were blandly ignored and soon the Noldo gave up. Glorfindel carried the elf to a rarely used side-entrance. There was no need to stoke the never-ending gossip by showing some chattery elves the inebriated Chief Counsellor of Imladris being carried to his bed!
By the time they got there, Erestor had dozed off – or fallen into a stupor. Glorfindel could not tell.
“That is good, my friend. Let me care for you.” He undressed the sleeping elf and tucked him in. His next move was to inform his Lord that he had found the missing elf. For Erestor’s sake did Glorfindel not mention the details of the state Erestor had been in. That done, Glorfindel fetched the jar of salve Gandalf had made on his request long ago. A tentative sniff told the Balrog-slayer that it was still usable and so he returned to Erestor’s room and bared the elf’s body.
At first the blond was at a loss as to where he should start. When he decided one scar was as good or bad to choose as any other, he focused on Erestor's chest where a ghastly red welt split a nipple in two.
Erestor jumped at the touch - he had forgotten what it felt like to be touched by somebody else and the contact pulled him from his stupor.
"Shhh. It is fine. I won't hurt you... there..." Glorfindel calmed the mutilated elf.
Very slowly Erestor relaxed and became able to actually enjoy the very gentle touches. The salve seemed to really reduce the dull, ever-present pain of the old scars. He closed his eyes. Glorfindel’s touch was very light on his body, something the dark Noldo had not expected from an elf with hands calloused from constant combat-training.
"What issssis?" Erestor eyed the jar suspiciously.
“I once asked Gandalf for a salve that would lessen your discomfort. This is what he gave me.” came the calm reply.
“For me?” Erestor’s voice dripped with incredulity.
"Aye." Glorfindel answered absent-mindedly. He had been immersed in his actions. The scar he tended to was a knotty welt the breadth of a thumb, uneven and pink. Yet the skin that covered it was very delicate and silky.
"Why?" The blonde must have lost his senses, Erestor thought. Why in all of Arda would anybody want to do such? Wasn’t he trying hard enough to keep everybody at a distance?
"Because I had done so many stupid things to you. And to show you I am serious and that I do want to be your friend!" Glorfindel looked up to meet Erestor’s incredulous gaze for a moment.
“I am doomed!” Erestor groaned and then slowly drifted off again. Glorfindel chuckled softly before he recommenced his ministrations.
TBC...
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