Drops of dried blood covered Glorfindel’s arms by the time Turgon had given him the signal to hold. Terrible trails where the whip had left its mark marred Erestor’s once smooth, tanned flesh, and his long braid was draped over his shoulder, caked with blood. Sweat glistened on his skin, mingling with the rivers of red, but now as he panted heavily, he realized he had endured it all. Though worse than the last time, he had managed to keep his senses and not pass out. His eyes sought out Turgon with a defiant gaze. "You can break my body, but my spirit can never be broken."

Turgon stepped down from his throne and stood before the Noldo now, shaking his head. “I sincerely hope in some way that this was worth it.” He did not look at Glorfindel as he passed by, but paused when he reached Ecthelion. “Leave him there, for three days. Lock the doors when you go.”

Ecthelion bowed as Turgon continued to the exit. In a panic, Glorfindel started after the king, but he was stopped by Ecthelion. The dark-haired ellon waited until the door had closed before he spoke. “What did I tell you about your actions, Glorfindel? Did I not say this is not the time nor the place to explore your personal feelings? Now look at what you have done.”

“You told him,” ground out Glorfindel, and Ecthelion made a sort of snorting sound in the back of his throat.

“You think I told him? You have so little trust in me that you think I would have told him? How long have I known? How long?” Ecthelion’s words rose up and echoed off of the high walls. “Damn you, Glorfindel. I treat you like my son, and you accuse me of such a thing.”

The blond had bowed his head shamefully, small sobs beginning to come from him. “I- am sorry- Thel, I-“

“Do not tell me you are sorry.” Ecthelion roughly grabbed hold of the younger elf’s arm, half-leading, half-dragging him to where Erestor was still strung up. “Tell him you are sorry,” he demanded, shoving Glorfindel down at Erestor’s feet.

“Erestor...” Glorfindel looked up into the tired brown eyes whose gaze was upon him. At once, he was brought to tears. “Erestor, I am so sorry, so very, very sorry,” he choked.

“I forgive you, Glorfindel, but you have no need to apologize. What I did I did freely,” responded Erestor between long drawn breaths of air.

“Tell him what it felt like, Erestor. Tell him what the whip he wielded did to you.” Ecthelion was still staring down at Glorfindel unsympathetically.

After a few pants and a gasp for air, Erestor lolled his head from side to side. “No, Thel. Not now.”

“Tell him,” growled Ecthelion. “Tell him what you felt each time the lash kissed your flesh.”

Again, it seemed as if Erestor was not about to respond. As if sensing this to be the only way to make Ecthelion leave, he answered slowly, “It was... hot, like... when you touch an iron in the forge... that has not been cooled. A sudden heat, and then... then you pull away, but still... it burns. Please, Ecthelion... do not make me continue," begged Erestor, looking up from the whimpering ellon on the ground at his feet to the warrior standing before him.

“Glorfindel.” When Ecthelion addressed him, the young elf looked up. “I have been instructed to lock the doors for three days. For three days, he is to hang here on the order of the king. If you cut the ropes or untie them, you will be punished publicly and he will be thrown from the Echoriath. Is that clear?”

Saying nothing, Glorfindel managed to nod as he shuddered, thinking how horrible it would be for one to fall to their death. Giving Glorfindel one final look of disgust, Ecthelion left the council chambers. A loud click sounded as the doors were locked.