“Maybe he did find an eagle to take him back.” It was the first thing Rog had said to Erestor in many days.
“Thank you.” Erestor came across terser than he planned to, but after several hours day after day of enduring accusing glares and muttered insults he felt less than vindicated.
The task had been a weary one, but not quite as horrible as imagined. Instead of staggering soldiers, the most they had found were bodies littering the way home. They had burned them all and left no evidence in their wake, but since neither would speak to the other until now it had been taxing.
The break was short-lived. “He might have also been eaten by wolves,” added Rog.
Now it was Erestor’s turn to glare. When he turned back, however, he stopped abruptly. “No, not wolves.”
“Maybe not wolves, but there are always...” Rog frowned, for Erestor was now running towards the city, which could not be seen but was not far away. He looked beyond Erestor and saw a familiar figure hobbling on ahead. Raising his gaze into the skies, Rog said, “He must have the favor of one of you.”
It was easy for Erestor to catch up to Glorfindel, who was pulling himself along using a tree branch to lean on. “Here,” offered Erestor in an attempt to put his arm around Glorfindel to aid him. Glorfindel stumbled away and shook his head.
“I can... do this.” Glorfindel grunted with every step and panted heavily. His shirt was soaked through front and back with sweat and his hair was matted. To be honest, he hardly looked like himself, but Erestor had known it was him. “Almost... there.”
Erestor nodded and though he did not aid Glorfindel, he walked in step beside him in case he should fall. “We were worried when you left. You must have walked night and day to return ahead of us.”
“Not... sure.” Glorfindel took a moment to wipe the sweat from his forehead before it dripped into his eyes and then continued. “Cannot... remember.”
“You must have been delirious,” reasoned Erestor. Glorfindel stumbled and hit the ground with one knee. He used the branch to bring himself back to his feet. Again, Erestor reached forward to help the other warrior, but Glorfindel shook his head adamantly.
“No.” He closed his eyes as he caught his breath and then stepped forward. “My... battle.”
Before Erestor could protest, a hand fell heavily upon his shoulder. “Hold back. He needs to get there ahead of us.”
It was painful for Erestor to watch as Glorfindel continued forward while he and Rog stayed far back. “What if one of us went ahead and brought out a healer.”
“Not until he gets into the city. He is gravely injured, there is no need to hurt his pride as well. We have time.”
Erestor nodded, thankful for this small blessing from Rog. Technically, if Rog had still been set on the mission Turgon had given him, he could have killed Glorfindel even so close to the city. Erestor busied himself by rereading the letters he had collected while still keeping a watchful eye on Glorfindel in case he should need to intervene. Perhaps that was why Rog had allowed this deviation – if Rog tried anything now, Erestor was sure that he would protect Glorfindel by any means necessary.
“Did he say how he managed to get back? Any eagles involved?”
Rog’s voice startled Erestor, and he quickly put away the note he was currently reading. “No, not from what little he said.” They were now within the gates. Each time a warden at one of the towers would begin to climb down to aid Glorfindel, Rog would signal for them to return to their posts. “He seems not to remember very much.”
“It will come back to him,” answered Rog. “I doubt your eagle theory.”
Erestor wearily rubbed the back of his hand against his eyelids. “Fine. Maybe it was the raccoons.”
“What raccoons?”
“Nevermind.” They continued their slow march behind Glorfindel, and when he made his first step onto the green of Gondolin, both of them hurried forward.
Rog reached Glorfindel first, his entire attitude seeming to change as he gently slid an arm under Glorfindel’s and took the branch away from him. He looked over his shoulder at Erestor and barked orders. “He needs to see a healer. Go find one. Now.” Rog helped Glorfindel to sit down just inside the final gate while Erestor dumped the gear he was carrying so that he could run faster. “Congratulations. You made it.”
“Thank you.” Glorfindel relaxed against the cool stones and ignored the pain as much as he could. Officially, he was back in Gondolin, and although the thought should have comforted him, it seemed not to. It was a nervous moment when Rog held a flask to his lips, but he drank even with the thought of it being poison on his mind. He was falling asleep again by the time Erestor returned with one of the healers, who looked worn out and in need of rest herself.
“Oh no... Lord Glorfindel!” The healer dropped down to her knees beside him, and even in his delirium Glorfindel recognized her as being the young lady who had previously been employed by Enerdhil.
“I think I hurt myself,” explained Glorfindel while the healer tore open the front of his already ragged shirt to get a better look at his injuries. “Big dragon. Hit me with his tail. Broke some stuff I might need later.”
“My word... did you walk back like this?” The healer looked from Glorfindel’s face, to his arm, to his chest, where the bruises were fading but still visible from his collarbone down to his pelvis. There was no doubt she was having trouble deciding where to begin. “You should really be in the city. The light is poor out here and I need more supplies than I have with me.” She looked up at Erestor and Rog. “Can one of you carry him?”
“No. I made it here on my own, I will make it to my sick bed on my own.” Glorfindel winced as he pulled himself up from the ground. “You lead. I will follow as fast as I can.”
“At least let me aid you a little, Glorfindel,” offered Erestor, but Rog put his hand on his son-in-law’s shoulder.
“Leave him. He wants to do this on his own. Let him.”
Glorfindel almost reconsidered after the first step, but the thought of walking into the city being supported by someone else was not appealing to him. Others would see him and he had some notion that he had to appear strong to the people with all that had happened. Step by step, teeth clenched the entire way, Glorfindel made it up the road, through the emptying marketplace and into the courtyard. It was then that he remembered the steps, all seven flights of them to the floor he lived on.
“How are things in the tower?” asked Erestor, having the same thought as Glorfindel at the same time. “I imagine it is hectic to say the least.”
“Indeed,” admitted the healer. “If you can avoid going there, I would suggest it.”
Erestor nodded. “We have a friend who lives nearby.” He turned to Glorfindel and said, “Perhaps we can use his house for a few days until you recover.”
“Ecthelion lives the other way,” said Glorfindel as Erestor turned around and began to walk back toward the market. “He is also nearly a mile down the road.”
“I was not thinking of Ecthelion.” Erestor pointed at the house nearest to the tower, whose spires of silver and black contrasted with an odd beauty. “I very much doubt there is anyone in his house who is in need of a bed at the moment.”
Glorfindel might have objected when he considered who he might find there and the odd parting they had had, had he not been so keen to lie down. “If you think Salgant will welcome us, then yes. Let us go there.”
The trip to the doors of Salgant’s house was easier than climbing the stairs would have been. The large silver knocker made their presence known and when Thrangorn opened the door he took hold of the silver cord without saying a word and pulled it three times. A bell rang, and the butler made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Do come in. The master will be down in a moment.”
A moment, for Salgant, was really closer to ten minutes, during which time the healer tended to the wound on Glorfindel’s cheek. She had to slice it open again and apply a poultice, for although the wound had healed yet again it was now badly infected underneath. “I fear this is going to leave a scar for a while,” she said quietly as Salgant made his way down the steps.
“My comrades, you have returned! I hear rumors that the war was not so glorious despite the king’s official statements to the people, and I wished to consult with others who were there about—“ Salgant stopped when he saw the state that Glorfindel was in.
“I am certain we will have time to speak later. At the moment, I must make request that you allow Lord Glorfindel a room within your home, preferably upon the ground floor. He was gravely injured in battle.”
Erestor’s plea to Salgant sounded much more sincere than his speech had been to the people mere months ago. Salgant simply nodded and looked at his butler. “I assume we have a guest room available and ready?”
“Of course, sir. Right this way, if you please, your lordships.” Thrangorn hurried down a hallway, pausing frequently to allow for the others to catch up. Double doors were pushed open with flourish, and a suite of rooms was displayed to them. “The master bedroom is located straight ahead. I will have fresh towels brought in immediately, and anything else that you might require.”
“I will need water, some warm and some boiling,” said the healer. “If you have any bandages, and silk thread, I may be in need of those as well.” The butler bowed his head and disappeared once again.
Salgant entered the room just after Glorfindel and the healer. “I will have a maid come in to open the curtains and freshen up the sitting room.”
“He needs the bed more than the sitting room right now,” replied Erestor pointedly.
Salgant rolled his eyes and stopped, blocking the way for Erestor and Rog. “Not for him, for you. Unless the two of you are going to leave him here and collect him later on.”
“Actually, I do need to go. My wife will wring my neck if I do not seek her out, now that Glorfindel is in capable hands.” Rog expressed his thanks to his cousin before bidding farewell.
This left Salgant and Erestor alone at the doorway. “Should I forgo calling for a maid, or will you be staying?”
“If you would allow me, I would like to stay for a little while at least. Sorry,” apologized Erestor. “I misunderstood.”
“Hmmph.” Salgant waddled into the bedroom, where the healer was instructing Glorfindel to lie down upon the bed. “I will have the maid bring fresh sheets as well. I have a notion that you are about to bloody up the ones that are currently on the bed.”
“I shall try my best not to,” promised the healer, sounding quite weary. “Now, if everyone would be so kind to clear out of the room, I would appreciate it.”
Glorfindel disliked being left alone with the healer, but the alternative of continuing to hurt did not appeal to him either. He did as he was told as he was prodded and poked and answered the question ‘Does it hurt when I do this?’ more times than he could count. Eventually, he found himself propped up in the bed, with his injured arm bandaged and in a sling, bandages wrapped around his chest, and a headache that attacked every time he turned to the right.
“If you can sleep like this, it will be better for you than sleeping flat on your back,” explained the healer. “It probably feels a little uncomfortable, but this way you will not have to sit up every time you need to eat or drink or speak to someone. It will help with the healing to keep you stationary as much as possible. You have a lot of broken ribs. More than I have seen one anyone who could still walk. Do not take that the wrong way; it is not that I think you are going to die because of it. I think, because of your strength and determination you stand a good chance of pulling through.”
After thanking the healer, Glorfindel took the sedative he was given and promptly fell asleep, finally at ease in his reverie for the first time since the battle.
As the healer exited the bedroom, she found Erestor pacing and mumbling to himself. “Excuse me? If you wish to see him you can, but he is resting and I would advise not waking him. Only a few minutes, though. He needs the rest.”
“Of course.” Erestor hurried into the room and stopped at the foot of the bed. He approached slowly. There was a chair in the corner which he carried around and set next to the bed on the side that Glorfindel was sleeping.
He did not sit down. Instead he stood over Glorfindel and watched the labored breathing that appeared to be the direct cause of Glorfindel’s distress. When he finally dared look at his friend’s face, he saw that Glorfindel’s mouth was open slightly to aid in breathing. His eyes were closed, which concerned Erestor greatly. He reached down and drew his fingers through the mangled mane, but when they snagged he withdrew so that he would not wake Glorfindel.
Erestor checked to be sure no one had followed him in before he knelt beside the bed. Glorfindel’s right arm was uninjured and draped over the blanket. Gently, Erestor slid his hand under Glorfindel’s, and sadly sighed when Glorfindel’s fingers curled weakly around his even in reverie.
“I want you to get better,” he whispered. “I need you to,” insisted Erestor. “If you... if something happens to you...” Absently his thumb was caressing the back of Glorfindel’s hand. “I would go absolutely insane without you.”
In the adjoining room, Erestor could hear the door open and the rustle of linens. He lifted Glorfindel hand and pressed his lips against the cold, pale flesh. “Sleep well.” He stood quickly and left the room before the maid could witness the scene.
---
The next morning, Glorfindel found that his arm hurt less, but now his neck was sore. The throbbing in his head was less, but painfully constant. His stomach was sour, and there was an acrid taste in his mouth.
“Good morning, m’lord. Is there anything I can get for you?”
Glorfindel looked up, squinting to see if it was someone he knew. “Who are you?”
“I am Neralien. Lord Salgant asked me to keep watch over you until you awoke, and told me that I should fetch you anything you required.”
“Where is my wife?” It was not the question that Glorfindel wanted to ask, but it was the one that seemed most appropriate, considering how long he had been in the city and not seen Tauniel. It was also quite possible that Tauniel would be with Aranel, and Aranel with Erestor, and potentially lead to discovering what he really wanted to know.
“She was here last night for a long time. I believe she was going to return this afternoon, along with your tall friend. You know, that actor everyone is fond of. I hope he plans to do another play now that the war is over. I really meant to ask for his autograph, but last night seemed the wrong time and place.” Neralien moved to the windows and pulled back the drapes, allowing the light to flood into the room. The master bedroom, learned Glorfindel, was much more spacious than the bedroom he and Erestor shared. What was more, there was a cat nestled next to his feet. When he wiggled his toes, he was swatted playfully. The cat rolled onto his side and curled his paw over one of Glorfindel’s ankles. “I hope you do not mind the little ones,” said Neralien when she saw what Glorfindel was looking at. “They tend to run the place.”
“No, they do not bother me.” Glorfindel blinked until his eyes adjusted to the light, and shook his head when Neralien made the offer to bring something to him. “I think I just want to keep resting.”
“Should I close the curtains?”
“No... I think I would just like to... think.” Glorfindel laughed to hear himself say this. “Do you know what I mean?”
“You wish some time with your thoughts. Lord Salgant requests the same often, usually when he is composing. If you decide upon something, please ring the bell that is on the table. It will fetch me immediately.”
“Thank you.” Glorfindel let out a sigh once she had left, though his time alone was short. Salgant appeared in the doorway not long after. Glorfindel made his apologies before Salgant could even say good day. “I am sorry about intruding unexpectedly. It was Erestor’s idea.”
“It is not an intrusion, really. I help you, you help me.” Salgant entered the room and checked over the items there. He made sure that the water in the pitcher was adequately cold and that there was a supply of clean bandages for the healer to use later if she needed to change the dressing on Glorfindel’s wounds. “Everyone returning had been avoiding me and my house, since from their perspective we did not join in the war. I have been called traitor and coward and various other names since the day everyone left. They seem not to realize that someone had to stay here, to protect them and to protect Idril. Your coming here showed that you at least have some faith in what I did, even if it really was just Erestor’s idea for you to stay here.”
“You are correct. Someone had to stay here. If it had not been you, it would have been someone else.”
“Exactly, and Enerdhil has been useless. He carried on as if there was no war at all. You should have been here for the midsummer scandal,” added Salgant with an air of displeasure.
Glorfindel craned his neck to the side and reached his right hand around, rubbing it unsuccessfully. “Scandal?”
Salgant sat down on the mattress. “Mmmhmm. Nasty bit of business that did not fall well with the king. Sit up and let me help you with that.”
Abruptly, Glorfindel paused and gave Salgant an odd look. “Uh...”
“I give very good massages. You can ask Duilin if you doubt me. Duilin!” Salgant waited until the slender ellon appeared in the doorway, reading and eating an apple at the same time. It seemed that he had likely been in the sitting room their entire conversation. “Tell him what marvelous things I can do with my hands.”
Duilin looked over the top of his book, one brow cocked upward as he took another bite of his apple. “Must I? We shall have our own scandal on our hands.”
“Massages, you pervert. Let him know how gifted I am.” Salgant looked back at Glorfindel, seemingly forgetting he had prodded Duilin to answer the question. “Playing harp has helped immensely. I can give such soothing rubs. Let me help you sit up a little more and I will show you.”
“Uh...” Glorfindel gave Duilin a worried look. The Lord of the House of the Swallow turned on his heel and walked back into the sitting room. “I think maybe Duilin would rather you do not. He seems particular about who you touch,” he added, recalling the incident in the theatre with Erestor and Salgant.
“I do not care if he touches you,” shouted Duilin. “I just do not want Erestor touching him.”
Salgant aided Glorfindel in sitting up with his back straight, and then repositioned himself to better get his hand around the back of Glorfindel’s neck. At first, Glorfindel was uneasy about the entire idea, but Salgant’s fingers truly felt magical and he relaxed soon after. “See? What did I tell you?”
“Mmmhmm.” Glorfindel closed his eyes, trying to imagine it was Erestor and not Salgant soothing his aching neck. It was difficult, since Salgant’s hand, though roughly the size of Erestor’s, was soft and pudgy instead of being strong and firm.
“When Neralien returns, I shall have her bring some shears.”
“What for?” asked Glorfindel, his voice soft and relaxed.
“Have you taken a good look in a mirror lately?” Salgant continued to rub Glorfindel’s neck, but used his other hand to lift up a chunk of blond hair for his viewing. “Something charred the ends terribly bad. It reeks, some of it is beyond brushing, and I fear it is not very fashionable.”
“Oh, fuck.” Glorfindel mourned the state of his brittle mane, watching as some of the ends broke off between Salgant’s fingers. “I suppose Rog will get his wish after all.”
“See what Neralien can do before you write it off as a total loss.” Salgant concentrated his efforts once again on making Glorfindel relax now that he was more nervous than before.
Neralien returned, left after receiving Salgant’s instructions, and returned again with the healer who had stopped in to check on Glorfindel. Bandages and dressings were changed, and she left after leaving a supply of painkillers with Salgant in case Glorfindel should have need for any. While Neralien changed the sheets, Glorfindel was helped into the sitting room, where Duilin did what he could to salvage the majority of Glorfindel’s namesake.
In the end, after twenty minutes of tedious and careful snipping, Glorfindel permitted it be cut straight across to the point where the last of the damage reached. He flinched when he heard the sound of the metal blades scraping against one another. Great clumps of burnt hair fell onto the floor. Each successive pass made Glorfindel more anxious, until he was gripping the chair he sat on. The cold metal touched his neck, and briefly he panicked at the notion and almost called for them to stop, but the scissors were moved lower and closed before he had the chance, chewing through another chunk of blond and burned mane.
Duilin cut straight across to the other side this time, and after finger combing through, set the scissors down. “It will probably seem shorter than it really is, Glorfindel. I did not realize how wavy your hair is.”
“He needs a higher fringe in front,” said Salgant. “It is going to look awful and untidy the way it is now.”
“I would rather not have any more cut off,” pleaded Glorfindel, but Duilin was already reaching for the scissors again.
“Hold still for just another minute,” said Duilin. He parted Glorfindel’s hair and then quickly, but evenly (which Glorfindel was thankful for) trimmed away the hair that hung down into Glorfindel’s eyes. “You are right, Salgant, that does look much better.”
As Neralien entered the sitting room, she tisked at the trio she found there. “Next time, put a towel down, or at the very least roll up the carpet. This is going to take forever to clean up, my lord.” Out she disappeared again, only to return with a broom in hand. “The sheets have been changed, if you would like to lie down again, Lord Glorfindel.” Neralien at once began to sweep up the shorn strands, dumping them into a waste bin near the door.
“Thank you.” Again, with the aid of Salgant and Duilin, Glorfindel made his way across the room and back into the bedroom. “Will you be offended if I slept again?”
“Of course not. When you wake up, though, I am sending Neralien in to feed you. Part of your trouble with not healing is that you were forced to sustain yourself on nothing more than that dry waybread. You need better nourishment than that.” Salgant motioned for Duilin to close the draperies again, leaving the room dark except for the slits of light that peeked through now and again at the sides of the windows. “Sleep well.”
Glorfindel spent the next two hours restlessly trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Every time he readjusted himself, he found that something else hurt more. When he spied the medicine that had been left on the table, he poured a glass of water and took all three doses that had been set out. He was asleep in minutes.
