“How long have you been here?”
“Since this afternoon.” Erestor wrung out a cloth in a bowl of water and pressed it to Glorfindel’s forehead. “You slept quite soundly, except for a fever the last few hours. Anglin was here twice looking to speak to you, but you slept through his being here.” Erestor smiled and used the cloth to cool Glorfindel’s cheek as well. “I was concerned about you, so I stayed here to keep watch.”
Glorfindel yawned and stretched. He was stiff and a little sore. The wound on his hand had healed, but a scar remained from the knife. “Thanks.” He sat up and rolled his neck from side to side. “Does the healer need to dismiss me, or am I free to go?”
“He said you could leave whenever you awoke. The burns are not as bad as they were, but rest your shoulder and take care not to infect it again.” Erestor dipped the cloth into the water again, but by the time he had wrung it out, Glorfindel had moved to the other side of the bed and swung his legs over the side.
“How are you?” asked Glorfindel as he stood up shakily and hastily started to get dressed again. He left his shirt off to keep from irritating the wounds he had suffered.
Erestor held up his arm, displaying the bandage. “Broken wrist, some nasty bruises. Not bad for a hard day’s work on the battlefield.”
“Good that you were not hurt worse,” said Glorfindel as he retrieved his boots. “Do you know where Anglin might be?”
“Maybe you should give it a little while before you chase after him. We could find something to eat, have a meal together, perhaps talk a little?”
Glorfindel laced up his boots and shook his head “I need to see Anglin right away. Did he say where he would be?”
For a moment it seemed as if Erestor might not answer, but when Glorfindel looked at him he curtly replied, “Probably out near your tents.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you.” Glorfindel hurried out of the healing tent, leaving Erestor sitting upon the stool staring at the now empty bed.
Erestor clenched the cloth he was holding so hard that the water began to trickle out of it onto his knee. He drew back his arm and threw it hard into the bowl of water, splattering the bed and everything else in the room. For good measure he knocked the stool over as he left and stormed out of the tent.
A group of younger soldiers became victim of Erestor’s rage as he pushed through them and almost knocked three of them over. They said nothing to him, but mumbled among themselves. When he passed Ecthelion he did not return the greeting offered to him and simply walked past. It was Duilin who happened to see this and he cut through the encampment in order to eventually block Erestor’s way. “Going somewhere important?” he asked, keeping his arms outstretched so that Erestor had to pause for at least a moment.
Erestor snorted like an angry bull and pointed his finger at Duilin. “I am not happy with you right now,” announced Erestor, his finger dangerously close to Duilin’s nose.
Duilin flinched, but as Erestor turned and walked away, he rushed to catch up. “What the fuck?” When Erestor did not answer, Duilin put his hand on the other captain’s shoulder. Erestor slapped him away, and Duilin gave Erestor a shove. It slowed the older elf and made him turn and look upon Duilin with angry eyes. “What the fuck did I do, Erestor?”
“Just leave me alone.” Erestor continued on his path and exited the clearing, finding his way blindly through the forest. He slowed down to kick at rocks and swat at overhanging branches. As he stopped at the trunk of a dead tree and slammed his fist against the bark, he felt someone behind him grab his collar. He choked and was yanked backwards, found his feet dangling, and then was thrown to the ground in a heap. As he coughed and grabbed his throat, he looked up through watery eyes to see Rog standing over him.
“If I have to explain to anyone else why my herald is being a jackass, then you will not need to worry about whether or not you can ride a horse with a broken wrist because I will kick your ass all the way back to Gondolin. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Erestor, still trying to catch his breath.
He made an attempt to stand up, but was pushed back down. “Who said you could get up?”
Erestor snorted again and tried to make himself comfortable on the ground. There were pine needles sticking him and pinecones every which way, which he tried to toss out of his way without hitting Rog.
“Turgon is not pleased with your performance, and frankly, neither am I. If it was up to me...” Rog only glared and shook his head. “Be glad it is not. The king was clear with what your punishment was to be. There is a very irritated healer, and you are to clean the entire healing tent for him. There are some very confused soldiers, and you are to apologize to each of them. As for Duilin, I am not entirely certain what you can do there. Turgon wanted to make you speak to him, but Duilin said he does not wish to see you right now, so you will need to figure that one out on your own terms.”
“Now can I get up?” asked Erestor, sounding very bored.
Rog looked long and hard upon the other elf. “I thought after all these years you might have learned a little humility. When we return, I am rescinding your captaincy. You are too much of a liability for me to worry about. If you want to stay in my army in order to honor your agreement with Turgon, you will do so as a common soldier. Arrogance has no place in the ranks.”
It seemed for a moment as if Erestor might protest, but instead he shrugged. “Fine. Yours is not the only army in Gondolin. Besides, I did this as a favor to you. You want to demote me? Do it; I quit.”
“For someone so intelligent, you are highly irrational at times. We will discuss this when we return to Gondolin.” Rog walked away, returning to the encampment, while Erestor sat in the woods, alone with his thoughts.
Meanwhile, Glorfindel came upon his part of the camp and found the numbers more than doubled since the day before. Near the supply tent, he watched his brother quietly directing a small contingent as they packed and readied their horses. “You waste no time preparing, but I do not think Turgon plans to leave until the morning.”
Startled by the voice of his brother, Anglin turned around and after instructing someone with what they should do with an armful of extra arrows saluted Glorfindel. “Is there somewhere we might speak privately, Lord Glorfindel?”
“Of course,” replied Glorfindel, but he already knew whatever was going to be said was going to be something he did not like. They walked from the camp into the forest and when they were a suitable distance away, Glorfindel said, “You are leaving.”
“I must,” answered Anglin. “Someone needs to lead those who are returning to the Falas. My family is there and I must see them to safety if Morgoth’s forces reach the shore. The soldiers who wished to go back to Hithlum to try to evacuate those who remained there left at nightfall. We are preparing to leave before dawn. I came twice to see you, but you were asleep and the healer tending to you would not allow me to wake you up.”
“That was not the healer,” chuckled Glorfindel. “Erestor is a very good friend of mine.” He stopped there, not sure how much he wanted to say. Dawn would come soon, and with so many questions unanswered and things left unsaid, he carefully chose his words to make the most of the time he had. “Will you try to bring your families back to Gondolin?”
“If we knew where Gondolin was, perhaps.” Anglin smiled. “You have to remember, most of us have no idea where you are.”
“What about Gildor?” questioned Glorfindel. “He knows the path.”
“He reveals it to no one,” Anglin answered. “When he brings people to your home, they are blindfolded, whether on horse or on eagle. He twists the trail each time in order to confuse those he brings.”
Glorfindel nodded. “I can see how that could be a problem. What of those who are remaining behind? What of their families?”
“Those who are staying with you for the most part are young and none have the responsibilities we have. There are no husbands or fathers in the soldiers you will lead, no wives or children for them to worry about.” Anglin offered his arm out to Glorfindel, who gripped it with his own. “I wish we had had more time, but I think that someday our paths shall cross again.”
“I hope they will. There is so much more to talk about.”
“Then let us not say goodbye, brother, but farewell, until next we meet again.” Anglin pulled Glorfindel forward and hugged him and then before returning to his duties removed a chain from around his neck. An emerald hung from it, the likes of which Glorfindel had seen only among those jewels which were called Feanorian. “Do you remember this?”
“It belonged to father,” said Glorfindel. “I recall the day mother gave it to him; she had worn it in her hair, and then he used it to fasten his cloak.”
Anglin gathered up the chain and the jewel into his palm. “Somehow I have managed to keep it with me all this time. It should go with you now.”
“How can I—“
“I have many things to remember them by,” interrupted Anglin. “My bow is one that father made for me; there were many things which mother gave to my wife which she still has. You should have this.” He held it out, and Glorfindel reached forward. The emerald dropped into his palm and the chain slithered down after it. “Now farewell, for I fear I shall not be able to part if I do not go now.”
“Farewell to you, brother, and safe journey.” Glorfindel resisted the urge to follow when Anglin walked back to the camp. Instead he took a deep breath and wandered along the edge of the encampment, keeping inside the forest. As he traveled further south, he found something of a path that had been recently treaded.
Fearing it could be orc scouts, Glorfindel silently tracked the way into the forest. He was very surprised to come upon Erestor. “Oh, good, you are not an orc,” he said as he sat down beside his friend.
“There are some who may beg to differ,” he huffed.
“Are you on patrol out here?” asked Glorfindel. He leaned with his hand against the dead trunk, but pulled his hand away from it a moment later as if it had bit him.
Erestor appeared not to notice. “Do I look like I am on patrol?”
“Sorry for asking.” Glorfindel turned to leave, but realized that it was not a good idea for either of them to be in the woods where they were unaccounted for. He went back and said, “You know, we should really be in the camp.”
There was some mumbled cursing on Erestor’s part, but he stood and brushed himself off. Grudgingly, he followed after Glorfindel, who kept checking to make sure Erestor was still behind him.
When they reached the clearing, there was a little more activity. The sun was getting ready to peak over the horizon and already a haze of light was chasing away the moon. There was a gathering of the elf-lords by Turgon’s tent, and he made a motion to join them.
His signal, however, was for Glorfindel alone. “Sorry, Erestor, this is meeting for the houses,” explained Ecthelion. Duilin, who was standing behind the fountain lord, made a shooing motion at Erestor, who looked like he was unconcerned. He whispered something to Glorfindel and then left in the direction of the horses.
“Good thing that you have been found,” remarked Egalmoth. “We are at an impasse.”
“What is the question?” asked Glorfindel.
“We need to decide which path to take,” Turgon said. “We can continue through Dorthonion or we can take the Sirion back the way we initially came.”
“Or we could go to the Sirion to restock our water supply and come back to the forest.” Duilin seemed convinced of this being the best choice, but the rest of the lords were shaking their heads.
“We have to keep on the Sirion. Our needs for water are great. If we keep dodging back and forth it will be easy for the enemy to see what our true path is,” argued Ecthelion.
“The forest is safe,” stated Galdor. “The trees are helping to hide us and the eagles are patrolling. They cannot do that over the Sirion; they are too vulnerable. We would be too vulnerable.”
Penlodh laughed. “We are vulnerable no matter where we are. Our injured as especially in need of water, and our supplies are very low.”
“If your injured cannot make the journey back through the forest without more water, then do you really think they will be healed when we reach Gondolin? You prolong their suffering, Penlodh.” Rog’s position was not popular, but no one dared speak against him. He had an angry look on his face and did not seem to be one who could be reasoned with.
Voronwe sighed. “The horses need water. They are hearty creatures, but we cannot expect them to survive these conditions. The stream they were using is nearly dry now.”
“Then turn loose the horses and they will find water,” Egalmoth suggested.
Turgon rolled his eyes. “Great. Then the enemy really will know where we are as he watches horse after horse trot its way down the Sirion back home. We are not letting loose the horses.”
“Which way are you siding, Duilin?” asked Glorfindel. He had assumed the positions of the others, three on each side, and Turgon would only vote to break a tie or if he had a very strong conviction. When Duilin shrugged, Glorfindel said, “I do not mean to make enemies of any of you on this matter, but I have yet over a hundred horses and they are thirsty. I have in my charge many weary soldiers in need of water as well. If we expected the trees to protect us, we should have hid among them and not in the widest clearing we could find.”
“Your vote is for the Sirion?” asked Turgon to be sure.
“Yes,” replied Glorfindel.
Turgon looked at Duilin. “Do you wish to side with the forest?”
Duilin frowned. To side with staying would cause Turgon to break the vote. All onus would be upon him. An undecided position placed the responsibility on Glorfindel. “I abstain,” replied Duilin.
“Sort of thing I expect from Salgant,” muttered Egalmoth to Galdor. Duilin turned and glared.
“So be it. Make ready for the Sirion. We leave at high noon.”
As the group disbanded, Glorfindel recalled the request made by Erestor and approached a small group of soldiers who were sitting together drinking meager cups of tea and coffee. “Excuse me,” he said as he reached them. “I was asked by Captain Erestor to request your presence at—“
“Glorfindel!”
The sharp barking of his name startled him, and the blond turned to see Rog marching toward him. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
Glorfindel blinked in confusion. To be honest, he had no idea why Erestor wanted to speak to this group. They were soldiers of Ecthelion’s house for the most part, so the fact he had been asked to direct them to the healing tent to speak to Erestor seemed rather odd now that he considered it. “Erestor just asked me to—“
“Erestor has to do this himself.” Rog steered Glorfindel away from the little group of soldiers and said, “You are not his servant, to do his work for him. This is his responsibility. Go tell him that.”
As Rog began to walk away, Glorfindel suddenly became angry himself. He hurried forward and came to stand before Rog to block his path. “No! If I am not his servant, surely I am not his keeper, either. I have no idea what any of this is about. If you want to give a message to him, then go and give it yourself.”
“I would, but that would more than likely lead to me knocking him on his ass again.”
Glorfindel shrugged. “Well, if you hurt him, he is in the right place for it. He told me he would be in the healing tent.”
“At least he got that part right,” said Rog.
“What is going on?” demanded Glorfindel. “Both of you are out of sorts, apparently bickering like a pair of old women on market day.”
“Well, he started it,” growled Rog before he could stop himself.
“And these, they say, are Gondolin’s finest.” Glorfindel took his leave, saying nothing more.
Rog massaged the sides of his head, feeling a migraine approaching. His first thought was to appeal to Ecthelion to deliver the message to Erestor, but he realized he would only be doing what he was specifically forbidding Erestor himself to do. Instead, Rog went to the healing tents, finding the chief healer was leading Erestor around and explaining what needed to be done.
“Your first priority will be to clean all of these instruments and return them to their proper places. They must be completely disinfected so that they do not contaminate the rest of the equipment. This is very important to keep infections from spreading. When you finish with that, the empty beds need to be stripped.” The healer pointed to a box off to one side. “Stuff the used sheets into the sacks and stack them outside the door. When you are done, find me, I may have another task for you.”
As the healer moved away to tend to one of the injured elves who was still in the tent, Erestor began to gather up the various tools that needed to be cleaned. A basin of boiled water, a bottle of alcohol, and some clean linens were set up along the work counter in the back. The sheet was still up on one side, but the one that had served as a door was now down. Rog followed Erestor into the area and waited to be acknowledged.
When, after ten minutes, Erestor said nothing, Rog spoke. “Glorfindel will not be arriving with those other soldiers.”
“I assumed as much when I saw you walk in.” Erestor wiped out a jar and set it aside after swirling the alcohol around in it. “I only thought to speed things up a little. This is going to take me most of the morning, so I certainly will not have time after that to speak to each of them individually.”
“You will find time,” Rog said sternly. When Erestor did not respond, Rog bent down to set the stool Erestor had knocked over earlier upright. He sat down on it gingerly, not wishing for it to break under his weight. “Why must you be so difficult?”
“It is just how I am. I can hold my emotions back for a time, but eventually I am like a dam with too much water rushing behind it, and I burst.” With the glassware done, Erestor began work on the sharper and more delicate items.
“I guess I thought you had managed to change,” said Rog as he stood and continued to watch Erestor work diligently at his task. Before leaving, he added, “I would never have given my consent for you to marry Aranel if I knew you were still like this. I sincerely hope you have been treating her better than you have your fellow comrades at arms.”
