Beyond Canon
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From his post at the top of the tower of the fifth gate, Glorfindel had a better view than any of the other guardians. His towers were taller than Ecthelion’s, and he could see past the first gate. Behind him, he could see back over the sixth gate and into the city. Except what the palace and some other large buildings hid, Glorfindel saw it all. What he did not see he needed only walk around the ledge of the silver walls to complete the circuit around the realm.

More and more often he had taken to walking the wall, for he took to pulling double shifts to keep his mind off of anything that could lead to mischief. He had not been told the circumstances surrounding Gildor’s abrupt departure after reaching the city two months earlier. Ecthelion had only made mention of it in council that the party from Doriath had respectfully declined the invitation.

When he questioned it, Glorfindel was given the same answer by both Ecthelion and Erestor. “Gildor decided it was in his best interest to return to Doriath as soon as possible.” It was only when he accidentally overheard Rog telling Erestor that he still had to watch his temper and that killing Gildor would not have been an ideal solution that Glorfindel realized fully what the trio had done. Had done for him, one of the voices in his head reasoned, but the other voice sneered that they had done this to him. Torn between love and hate for their actions, Glorfindel concerned himself more and more with his work.

Secretly he took up a partial apprentice with Enerdhil. Not to learn the mysteries of the taming of metals, but to learn their properties, to learn the secrets of the chemist, of the mathematician, and the scientist. Most of the realm had a phrase for Glorfindel he assumed they thought he did not know: Cute, but not too bright. Now that he had the knowledge of the written word, he found it easy to soak up things it took others years to study.

Finding his feet had carried him to the south tower, Glorfindel paused and looked down at the training fields. It was difficult to tell who was who, but one figure was easy for him to recognize.

Erestor motioned for another pair of soldiers to attack, and defeated them both within minutes. Wiping his brow with the back of his wrist, he walked to the bucket of water and lifted up the ladle to take a drink. “That was better,” he remarked to the soldier that had managed to last longer, who nodded. As the ellon passed by, Erestor caught a glint of silver above and shielded his eyes from the winter sun, made all the brighter from the snow that covered the trees, houses, and ground. Glorfindel. Watching again.

They had barely spoken in the last few months, but Erestor had worried about Egalmoth’s ability to reason things out. He had come up with a plan within a few days, but his fear was that putting it into action too soon would alert the Lord of the Arch. Then again, waiting gave Egalmoth longer to think things over. Grabbing a rag to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck, Erestor lifted it up and waved it until he caught the blond’s attention.

Looking down from his post, Glorfindel watched Erestor make a number of discrete signals to him that were used by the guards to silently speak to each other in the midst of battles. Message-for-you-private- was what Glorfindel understood, so he swiftly walked into the tower and told the guard there to take over the watch. Without wasting time, Glorfindel took hold of the rope that lead to the ground and climbed down.

“Sergeant? A word with you, please,” said Glorfindel curtly, walking past and simply expecting Erestor to follow. As was protocol, Erestor pointed to his second to take over the training and fell in step with Glorfindel. They disappeared down into the little room that Erestor had used to hide in recently when he would be required to do the laundry of the officers. Immediately, Glorfindel’s demeanor changed. “I hate you like this,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “You cut your hair again.”

“I only trimmed it to keep it tidy. It was sticking up in the back, and I brushed and brushed to no avail. Besides, I am enjoying this, for now,” admitted Erestor. “All of it.”

Not wanting to argue, Glorfindel asked, “What did you want to discuss?”

“I have a solution to your troubles. Well, in part.” Erestor removed the gloves he was wearing and tucked them into his belt so that they hung over the side, then leaned against the wall. “Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“Aye,” replied Glorfindel eagerly.

“Good. Come to my rooms in the palace,” said Erestor.

Glorfindel blinked. “I thought you had to stay in the barracks.”

“I live in the barracks. There are no rules governing where I eat at the moment,” Erestor reminded his friend. “Better make it later; I am sure I need to clean them up a bit.”

Nodding, Glorfindel asked, “Did you know that Rog is training Salgant for the games? To box?”

“I know,” answered Erestor. “I asked him to.”

Open-mouthed and confused, Glorfindel pointed at Erestor. “You? You asked him to?”

Erestor confirmed it again. “I asked him to be sure that Salgant would not simply fall on his ass the first time I hit him – like he did the last time. I want to get a few punches in before he bleeds.”

“Once again – I am glad we are both on the same side.” Glorfindel paused. “What about you? Salgant used to box back in Nevrast, and from what I am told, he was a formidable opponent.”

To this, Erestor grinned. “During the winters in Valinor, I needed something to do. We would be snowed in for months at a time – like here, only imagine, I spent my winters at an inn, with only perhaps a hundred or so others. I was employed by Oropher – not to tend the bar or to play the music, or to greet the guests or clean the hall. My job was making sure no one started a fuss. If they did, I made sure they knew not to the rest of the winter.”

“You beat up troublemakers,” said Glorfindel.

“I persuaded them not to-“ Erestor stopped. “Alright, yes, I beat up troublemakers. But only if I had to. We would go for years without a problem, and then something would happen, someone would get upset, someone would have too much to drink, and I would end up shoving them out into the snow and knocking them on their drunken asses. Only if I had to.”

Glorfindel paced the tiny confines of the room, sorting this out in his head. “There are so many times that you leave out some details in what you tell me. I believe this is one of those times.”

“How so?” questioned Erestor.

“How did you learn to fight in the first place?” Glorfindel watched as Erestor sighed and sat down upon the table. “Not going to tell me?”

“I knew an elf with a temper worse than my own- maybe some of his fire burned me and that is where I got it from,” wondered Erestor. “Anyhow, most of the time as you know there is a large gap between siblings. Well, this poor child lost his mother and when his father remarried and had five other children in very quick order, he felt in some ways as if his father thought he was inadequate.”

“Feanor,” guessed Glorfindel, and Erestor nodded.

Putting his gloves back on, Erestor said, “When we were children, we only somewhat got along together. As adults, we were even less compatible, but most others our age were not as tall. He came to me one day and said that he was so angry he just wanted to hit his younger brother – I do not recall which it was at the time. He just wanted to hit something; anything. I knew what he was asking- if he revealed this weakness to his friends, they would think ill of him. We began fighting; secretly, in Orome’s forest or anywhere else secluded. No weapons, just our fists. We learned from one another how to fight.”

“Sounds like a normal coming of age sort of thing,” said Glorfindel, without mentioning that he himself had never had a desire to fight, and that when chided by his friends once he covered his face and ran to his mother with tears in his eyes.

“Except it was Valinor,” Erestor reminded Glorfindel. “We were not to fight with one another, and especially not like this. I had to come up with so many stories as to how I returned home with a bloodied nose or cuts on my face. Everyone thought I was a klutz. But do not worry; I beat him more often than he beat me. Beating Salgant will be easy. He is no Feanor.”
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