-Chapter Ten-
Fire.
The flames would not die down, nor would the screams stop. Erestor felt the pressure of people all around, some shouting, some crying, some cursing, some angered and others fearful. He lost himself in the crowd. Too many people, too much emotion, too little time.
That was when it appeared. It was said that Gothmog was Lord Balrog, and that might have been true, but he was lord only for his connection to Morgoth, whatever that might have been. The accepted answer was that Morgoth had sired the feared balrog who now lie dead at the bottom of the fountain in the courtyard, slain by brave Ecthelion in his own final moments.
Gothmog might have been dwarfed beside the beast that rose up from the pit of hell and cracked its whip across the side of the mountain. Few balrogs had wings, but this one had wingspan to spare. She was fierce and frightening, and had within her the wrath of Morgoth himself, and the desire for revenge, for all of the other balrogs who had joined her on this mission had since perished in the fighting. Her shadows cast over the crowd standing against the mountain and everything froze.
She scanned the crowd as fire spit and flames jumped from her body. Then, she found it – found the one she was looking for, and Erestor took a step back towards the mountain.
He fought, not by choice, but for survival. He fought, in fear, and not for long nor well. He fought, and he fought not to look at those who were watching him, for he hoped they did not see the look of fear on his own face.
And then, he fell, but not far. The dust was in his eyes and the shadow was cast over him. Then, suddenly, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was washed away. A bright light, pure and comforting, enveloped him, and Erestor looked up and saw before him Glorfindel in all his splendor. Armor gleaming, sword raised high, and foot upon the band of the whip, Glorfindel held the whip from being retracted. His boot burned, and the stench was almost unbearable as the fumes of burning flesh reached Erestor’s nostrils. He feared for what would come next, for what was fated.
And in that moment, as he looked up and saw Glorfindel for that final time, Erestor finally saw him for what he was. Beautiful and dangerous, kind and wonderful, strong and giving and forgiving, and glorious, in looks and in mind and spirit. He felt the loss before it came, the grief before the grieving, and he knew he was looking upon him in his final moments. As Glorfindel leaped forward and gripped the horn of the beast to steady himself, Erestor began to weep for a loss he had never anticipated.
He awoke to the sounds of his own sobbing, and found his pillow was damp, his hair stuck to his face. There was someone touching his shoulder and rubbing his back, and Erestor turned his head to see a figure in the darkness, with blond hair that fell over his shoulder in waves. “Glorfindel... do not leave me, Glorfindel...”
“I...” Anglin sat down on the edge of the bed. “I am sorry, Erestor, you are having a bad dream.” Anglin helped Erestor to sit up. “You were shouting and crying – I did not want to wake you up too harshly, but I was worried that you were going to scare the others, or even make the guards come up here to check on things. Are you alright?”
Erestor sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I think so. Just... just a nightmare.” He swallowed hard and rubbed his eyes. “I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten or upset anyone. I hope... oh... what am I talking about? I probably said some pretty upsetting things before I woke up.”
“No, nothing to worry about,” lied Anglin.
Erestor gave him a sideways look.
“Nothing I am going to share with anyone. I really think you need not be so harsh. It was a nightmare; you have no control over your dreams.”
“No, but you might think that Irmo would be a little kinder to me, all things considered.” Erestor sighed. “How much did I say?”
“Enough for me to know that I am thankful I was not present during the fall of Gondolin.” Anglin continued to rub Erestor’s back. “Did you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” Erestor stared at the wall. “Your brother saved me, you know. I mean, he saved all of us, but I was next to him when the balrog came.”
This piqued Anglin’s interest. “You fought beside him?”
Erestor bowed his head. “I was a coward,” he whispered.
“You ran away?”
Erestor shook his head. “I was injured. The balrog engaged me first. I fell, and then he appeared.”
“That is hardly cowardice,” Anglin assured Erestor.
“I could have done more.”
“We all say that.” Anglin made himself comfortable and adjusted the pillows against the headboard so that they could sit back against it. “There were things I might have done to help my father that I never did. There were places I might have gone for help. In the end, we must live forward, not back, or we will never reach the future.”
“I need some fresh air.” Erestor tossed the blankets down to the end of the bed and swung his legs off to one side.
Anglin looked worried. “It is late, and I doubt Verdev is up for being an escort at this hour.”
“The balcony is available,” stated Erestor as he padded across the room to the door. “If anyone asks, I will just claim it was an emergency.”
Anglin waited a few minutes before donning a robe. He quietly climbed the steps to the third floor, where he found the door to the balcony had been left ajar. With little effort, he slipped outside and saw Erestor sitting on the balcony with his back up against the side of the house. With the railing up as high as it was and the lack of light on that side of the building, it was unlikely anyone would notice them. Anglin did not shut the door all the way as he emerged from the house and crept over. “Mind if I join you?” he asked softly. He kept a hand over the metal tag that hung from his collar, not wishing moonlight or starlight to glint off of it and alert anyone below.
Erestor looked to the empty spot beside him and gave it a pat.
“Thanks.” Anglin moved closer.
“Sorry about earlier.” Erestor was looking out over the city, not watching any one particular person or thing. “I did not mean to startle you like that.”
“No worries. I understand.” Anglin eased down quietly next to Erestor. “You must have been close to him.”
Erestor gave a slight nod.
“You knew him for a long time.”
“I did.”
“May I ask something personal?”
Erestor sucked in his breath, already preparing for the question. “About me, or about him?”
“A little of both, actually.” Anglin chewed his lip, and then asked, “Were you ever his lover?”
A long pause followed, which was eventually ended when Erestor said, “I think he wished that I would have been.”
“Ah. And... you were... you felt more like a brother or something?”
“I...” Erestor shook his head, still looking straight ahead. “No, I... I could not do it again. There was no way that I could.” His voice was extremely soft, and he closed his eyes, thinking back to days long past. “When he told me, I tried to distance myself somewhat. I kept finding myself drawn back to him. He was... so kind and innocent and... and so beautiful, not just physically, but spiritually as well. But I... in Gondolin, it was bad, but in Valinor...” Erestor opened his eyes, and looked at Anglin. “Valinor was worse.”
“You had a male lover there.”
“For a short time.”
“You were ostracized there.”
“I was almost killed for what I was doing there.” The words and memories were bitter. “So I forced myself to be ‘normal’. Found an elleth. Almost got married. People forgot. I forgot. I felt like I did not care, not in Doriath nor for a while when I was here. Then, he began to seek me out. It... we...” Erestor ran his hand through his hair and sighed as he turned back to monitor the barren city.
“You never told him.”
Erestor’s chin trembled. “No. I never did.”
Anglin leaned closer and wrapped his arms around Erestor. “My father made a similar mistake.” The blond sat straight again when Erestor gave him an incredulous look, despite his tearful eyes. “He loved Glorfindel, even if it seemed like he did not. He was very tough on him, but I know why now, if Valinor was as you say. He wanted to make sure that Glorfindel was strong enough to stand up to the abuse he was certain to face later, and he hoped that Glorfindel would find a way to keep his preferences discrete. He went about it all in the wrong way,” admitted Anglin. “But he loved all of his children, and that includes his first-born. Whenever my cousin Gildor would come to deliver messages, father would always ask before anything else ‘What news of my son?’. He would say it with such pride, and such regret. I had hoped that they would reconcile before... well, I suppose now they will be able to discuss it while they wait.”
They sat on the porch until the sun began to peek over the horizon. “I should have told him,” whispered Erestor regretfully.
Anglin stood up and stretched before helping Erestor to stand. “Knowing my brother, he probably knew.”
Unforgivable by Zhie