"You pulled him out of the fountain?"
Erestor nodded solemnly as Haldir felt his eyes begin to burn. "Oh, Erestor…I am so sorry. I can't even imagine…"
"I would think you could, penneth. It is part of your life, everyday. I have great respect for those like you. You, Glorfindel, anyone who goes into battle, anyone whose job it is to lead others into peril. When I left Gondolin," he said, handing Haldir his handkerchief, "I couldn't do it anymore. Fifteen years, that was enough for me. There was only one other time that I fought, and it was a time when it was unthinkable not to."
"Dagorlad," guessed Haldir. "I believe Valarda mentioned that Lindon and Imladris were practically emptied for it."
"I led the cavalry from Imladris - I was master of the stables then, it was expected of me. When we returned from the war, I gave up my post and locked myself in the library. War is simply not for me," he said as the cloth was handed back to him and he touched it to the corners of his own eyes. "Too many lost. I have not the stomach for it."
"No one truly has the stomach for war," replied Haldir. "Not those pure of heart, at least. There are days when I wish nothing more than to sit in the trees and sing songs while my brothers write and whittle, but if someone does not keep watch-"
"Penneth," said Erestor, holding up his hand, "you are a brave one, and though some may think I hold those who are warriors in a lesser regard, the truth is I think you all, from the highest Captain to the lowest of the scouts, to be worth more than the elf who hides away in his study for fear of orcs and death."
"Erestor! Stop that!" demanded Haldir. "Do not speak so lowly of yourself."
Shrugging, he said, "You are the ones who keep safe the dwellings of those who sit in trees and sing and write, while we appear to think little of the great freedom you grant us."
"Yes, but Erestor, we have to have something to protect," said Haldir. "Much as I love the trees, I love those who live in them even more. I am not much of a musician or a poet, but I enjoy the singing of the minstrels within Lorien and the words recited by the maidens who walk below my talan in the evenings. I am proud to be the one they see fit to have protect them."
Erestor was silent for some time, and then continued to speak the tale. "After pulling Ecthelion's body out of the fountain, I knew we were doomed. If he had fallen, there was little chance for the rest of us. We decided to flee, as you've heard before I'm sure. At first we thought we might evacuate easily. Then it came."
"A balrog."
"The balrog. The orcs. There was panic - we had so many children with us, Haldir, my first thoughts were of them. As I scrambled to keep them together, from running back, I was struck by the worst pain in all my life." Erestor rolled up the leg of his pants, displaying his ankle. All of Haldir's previous times in seeing it had been but brief glances, and he studied it more carefully now.
Haldir saw first the twined leaves of green and golden flowers, but beneath these markings made with ink, he saw another mark. It was pale, yet dark, an angry and evil looking thing. He felt compelled to touch it, and Erestor did not pull from him as he traced two fingers around the scar that encircled Erestor's ankle. "I do not recall seeing such a scar on an elf before," said Haldir.
"It is from fire, and those of fire do not fade," Erestor told him. Sadly, he added, "You may have one yourself, penneth. On your back, where your wound was cauterized."
Moving his fingers from Erestor's scar to his own, Haldir shuddered as he noted for the first time the length and width of it. "It never goes away?" he asked.
"Perhaps yours will," Erestor said, "for mine was not made by fire alone, but from flame and shadow."
"It was the balrog that made this?"
"I was an easy target with my back to that demon, and he lashed his whip around my leg. I thought I surely would be pulled into the abyss. In that moment, I had a thought." He shook his head and gave a somber sort of laugh. "I thought, 'Not me. Anyone but me.' I was so selfish, I did not care who it was, as long as I left with my life." Stopping suddenly, Erestor bowed his head and drew a hand to his face. It took Haldir some time before he realized that Erestor was crying, and his chest ached at the sight of one of the strongest elves he knew trying to hide his tears.
Pulling himself up enough to crawl the few feet to the counselor, Haldir leaned himself against Erestor and put an arm around him. "Please, Erestor, forgive me," he whispered. "It was wrong of me to ask you." Haldir's free hand reached down to push the cuff of the pants back over Erestor's ankle, but a hand stopped his own.
"I felt something jerk me toward the edge, and then, it stopped. When I turned, I saw Glorfindel with one foot atop the whip of the balrog, holding it down. He brought his sword down, slicing off the end of the whip, freeing me. Do you know what his last words were?" Erestor paused and took a deep and ragged breath. "Of course you do not know. He said, 'I am Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower and Lord Guardian, Warden of the Sixth Gate. I am chief protector of this city now. You have to fight me first.' The next moment, he had somehow raced up the whip and jumped across it, up to the foul creature, and he-" Erestor's voice cracked, and it was some time before he began again.
"He always makes it sound like a simple duel - a glorious battle between elf and demon. He never mentions the smell of flesh burning or singed hair, of all of the blood that was spilt. I don't know if he remembers that part of it, or if he intentionally forgets it, but it stays in my mind, clear as a calm lake in the summertime. As he fought, the rest escaped, but I was frozen in my place. I think I might have run, but I could not. My ankle was so badly wounded that I could barely crawl. So I hid best I could, and I watched." The emotional storm seemed to have passed for the counselor, and Haldir withdrew himself slightly now that Erestor was looking at him once more as he spoke.
"Do you recall that I said previously to consider the source of information? There is a chapter in the Quenta Silmarillion - a book that, contrary to popular belief, was not written entirely by one elf. I am fairly certain of the validity of the majority of Chapter Twenty-Three, because the words are my own. It is… mostly accurate."
"Mostly accurate?" pressed Haldir.
"Mostly in that 'they' who buried Glorfindel was really 'me', because how stupid would it have been for everyone to have stood around while Glorfindel and the Eagles took care of the balrog and the orcs instead of fleeing. I was too weak to walk, but when Thorondor brought up Glorfindel's body, I could not have it left for scavengers to find, and so I piled rocks over him best I could. He does not know that is how it happened.
"I asked then to have them fly me back into the city before being taken to what was left of the elves of our city, and did the same for Ecthelion, though instead of rocks, I placed over him the stones that had been knocked away from his fountain. I wish it could have been more, but it was the best I could do. It was a very bad day," reflected Erestor at last. "I still do not know how they could fight them, how they found within the courage and strength to battle such foes."
Unsure of what to say, Haldir took hold of Erestor's hand and squeezed it, hoping to offer comfort. He received a small fleeting smile before he was told, "You are the first who has heard the entire true account of the Fall of Gondolin, or the majority of it at least."
"I am honored that you have shared the tale with me," said Haldir.
"If you look carefully you will see blue lines beneath the flowers, those are meant for the fountain," said Erestor, pointing to the markings on his ankle, "and in them, the swirls of 'water' spell out their names as a reminder to myself. So many times they saved my life, so many things they taught me. It was a difficult loss."
"But Glorfindel came back," said Haldir.
"Yes, yes he did," said Erestor. "He is not exactly the Glorfindel I once knew, but yes, Glorfindel came back, and Ecthelion will come back, if he's not already running around Valinor and stomping on the flower beds of unsuspecting elves." He paused, and said, "Yes, elves come back."
Not particularly liking Erestor's tone, Haldir asked, "What are you trying to tell me, Erestor? You have hidden something in your tale."
Erestor pulled his hand from Haldir and stood, walking then to the pile of correspondence that was stacked on a bench close to the mirror. Pulling his handkerchief out again, he blew his nose once, twice, and deposited the cloth on the bench before pulling a fresh one from his pocket. "Not many days ago, a rider came from Rohan. I did not tell you at the time, because I did not think you were ready for the news that was brought." He picked up a scroll and carried it back to where they were sitting.
"It isn't Valarda, is it?" questioned Haldir with alarm.
"No, she is safe, or as safe as can be expected. She is alive, at least, for she wrote the document which I hold. The list of the soldiers that you brought with you to Helm's Deep," said Erestor, helping Haldir back to his nest.
Sighing, Haldir rested back down again. "I have such a list, it is in my office. I had meant to have it brought here so that I could begin a list of kin to speak with and give my condolences to." Erestor was crouched next to Haldir, lips pressed together and thinking very hard on how he planned to respond. He stuffed the cloth back into his pocket and moved once more to the tree and the scroll.
"I think," Erestor said, unfurling the scroll as he sat, "I should read this to you."
