It was in the beginning when there was only darkness that the Valar sensed a need in the hearts of the elves. Nienna wept after the destruction of the trees, her tears attempting to cleanse the filth, however, she also wept for the elves and what she could see in their future.
It was the vacuity in their hearts that was one of the causes for her grief and tears, a void she was unable to fill even for those who wandered Arda and found their fea mate. Many years she pondered her options as her tears fell endlessly, answers she sought, counsel and comfort she wanted to offer to the children, Eru, her father, had gifted with eternal life.
The dark elf wandered alone into the large building, his footsteps echoing in the immense hall with vaulted ceilings. Arched windows on each side allowed some of the late morning light to filter in, and the immense gray marble pillars were adorned with intricate carvings, but the walls were bare of any decoration. His own image was reflected on the polished floors. Not knowing where it was he had arrived he stood in the center of the hall, and a deep sense of peace and calm he had never experienced before overcame him.
At the end of the magnificent room he could see a set of steps leading to what he believed must be a door. When he got closer he distinguished a beautifully ornamented chair, and he blinked trying to focus. Where an instant before he was sure there had been an empty chair now sat a tall magnificent figure hooded with a gray cloak.
His heart bid him to get closer; his senses told him he had found the source of peace and comfort he had sought. Once he stood before her he instinctively fell to his knees and bowed his head, and without a sound she stood and walked to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder as she spoke. “My child, do not hide your face from me, let me look into your eyes.”
As he lifted his head she pushed back the hood of her cloak. Before him stood a magnificent being, her beauty rivaled only by the kindness reflected in her steel gray eyes. When he saw tears fill those eyes and spill down her porcelain skin he felt the void in his heart disappear, his worries dissipate. His search had reached its end.
“I have waited for you long,” she whispered, “my messenger, my child, my priest.”
Erestor’s memories of his first time in Nienna’s halls were interrupted as the last of his parishioners left what was now a worship center. For thousands of years he had worked to share the solace, comfort, and guidance Nienna had provided him to anyone and everyone who needed it. Throughout the years the temple had become known and elves came from far and wide to worship and in search of answers.
He noticed a lone elf stood at the end of the now empty hall. Without even realizing it he nervously started twirling the large ring on his left hand - the large sapphire cabochon that Nienna had gifted him as a symbol of his high standing always brought him comfort. He knew it was time to talk to him, elevating a silent prayer he asked for the strength to do what he must, but he stepped back into the shadows as the elf slowly approached the altar.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sitting at his desk in Imladris, Glorfindel listlessly sorted through the various work orders and summons that had begun to pile upon it. He balled up an invitation he had forgotten to respond to and tossed it in the direction of the waste basket. It bounced and hit the floor.
Unamused, Glorfindel growled and stood from his seat, glaring at the offending paper. Approaching it while offering it a few choice phrases one would not repeat in the presence of their Naneth or Adar, he picked up the paper and threw it forcefully into the canister. For good measure, he kicked the bucket as he turned to return to his desk, but the garbage bin revolted and tipped over, spilling the remnants of this morning’s breakfast and various waste papers across the floor, along with the shells of the peanuts he had been eating the night before.
Cursing again, he bent down and began to pick up the waste, not wishing to call a maid and have to explain why the mess was made in the first place. A knock came upon the door as he was crouched before it, scooping up the shells into the basket. Though he did not ask, he assumed it was Lord Elrond, and he reached up to fumble for the handle of the door to let him in.
“You’re having a bad week,” the elf lord said after taking in the entirety of the room and Glorfindel’s scowl.
“I’m having a bad life,” he snapped back. After a moment contemplation, he bowed his head and said, “I’m sorry, my lord, I-“
Placing a hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder he shook his head. “Do not worry yourself.” Elrond motioned that Glorfindel should stand. “Come. There is something I think will help you.”
He led Glorfindel down the hall, stopping a maid along the way. “I accidentally tripped over the waste basket in Lord Glorfindel’s study,” he told her. “If you would be ever so kind?” The maid curtseyed and headed down the hallway.
“You didn’t have to do that,” mumbled Glorfindel as they continued out into the courtyard, alight with the late morning sun.
Elrond smiled. “It’s my house. I get to do whatever I want.” The rest of the journey was silent, taking them down a path that Glorfindel had seen others travel, yet he had never felt the need to take the road himself. As the trees parted, they came into a clearing, and standing amid beautiful gardens that rivaled the ones he knew in Gondolin was a building more perfectly constructed than the Last Homely House.
“What is this place?” questioned Glorfindel as they came to the marble steps that led to high wooden doors that framed ornamental glass images depicting the awakening of the Eldar. “Are we still in Rivendell?”
“We stand before the doors of Nienna’s home in Middle-earth,” explained Elrond. “This is a place of comfort, of quiet and reflection. The priest, her messenger, is a goodly elf. He can help you to find the calm within your soul.”
“Right...” Glorfindel said, more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Lord Elrond gave him a rueful smile. “I doubted his abilities at first, but she has gifted him with great powers to soothe the souls of those who enter.” He took hold of the wooden bar and pulled one of the doors open. “Will you enter and pray with me?”
Glorfindel gave Elrond an odd look, and then shifted his gaze to the inside. There was a pleasant smell that wafted out of the door, and at the very least, it would keep him away from his desk until lunch. “Why not?” he answered and entered the cathedral.
*~*~*
Glorfindel stood next to Elrond and observed him as he kneeled down and silently prayed to the cold stone statue. After a few minutes he, too, knelt down on the cold hard floor, but no words came to him, no prayers, no comfort. Saddened and confused, he waited for his friend in silence. His tension and discomfort was obvious to anyone who observed.
When Erestor quietly walked in through a side door it was Glorfindel’s demeanor that first caught his attention. In all his long years serving Nienna, never had he seen someone look so uncomfortable in her halls.
Glorfindel’s broad shoulders rippled as he fisted his hands. As a trained warrior he could be immobile for long periods of time. He could control his breathing to appear dead; he could spend hours perched up on a tree or on a rock outcropping waiting for the enemy. It infuriated him that he was having such a hard time remaining motionless in such a peaceful place. ‘Perhaps peace is not for me. War, fierce enemies, closeness to death, danger in its purest form is what I know.’ His own thoughts angered him and increased his frustration at not being able to find peace as Elrond apparently did in this place. The muscles of his clenched jaw twitched from the effort he was making.
The trained warrior sensed a presence and looked up to see a tall elf dressed in simple black robes walking towards them, his bare feet visible under the robes as he walked. His long unbound black hair hung below his waist, and the silky tresses swayed with every step he took. His piercing eyes met those of this new elf for a second.
When Glorfindel’s sapphire blue eyes looked at him, Erestor immediately reached for his ring. He had never seen this elf in his halls before but in the brief instant their eyes met he felt a surge of electricity travel down every nerve in his body.
Elrond concluded his prayer and looked up as well, smiling he rose to greet the high priest.
“Lord Elrond, a pleasure to see you. I hope you have found peace and comfort within our walls.”
“Erestor, Nienna’s halls and your counsel never fail to bring solace to the grieving heart and hope to the wounded soul.” Turning slightly, Elrond looked at the tall blond elf standing next to him. Glorfindel stood stock still, his eyes wandering from Erestor’s face to the ring on his left hand. “May I introduce Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, my seneschal and dear friend.”
“Mae Govannen, Lord Glorfindel,” Erestor said in a soft and richly textured voice. “I have heard many times about you, it is an honor to finally meet you.”
Slightly bowing his head and placing his right hand above his heart Glorfindel responded, “The pleasure is all mine.” There was an undercurrent to his words that was not lost to Elrond or Erestor, however, all three elves remain expressionless.
“I hope you shall find what you seek within our halls.”
“I will,” Glorfindel said. “I have,” he added after a pause.
*~*~*
The starts still shone bright in the early morning hour, and as he had done every day since his first visit to Nienna’s halls Glorfindel walked the silent path on time to watch the stars fade and the sky grow lighter as soft hues of pink, orange, and mauve announced the birth of a new day.
There were no other parishioners at such an early hour and he was used to seeing Erestor starting his day by cleaning the altar and lighting fresh candles and incense as he walked in.
The first few days he would kneel down and pray as he observed the priest go about his duties. Normally no words besides morning greetings were exchanged between them. After a few weeks, he hardly prayed and just observed. For a while that had been enough for him. Erestor did not appear to notice that Glorfindel’s gaze never left him and that his lone worshiper’s lips hardly ever murmured prayers anymore.
When more elves started arriving, Glorfindel would usually leave. His thoughts throughout the day were mostly dedicated to his late afternoon visit to the Cathedral. His job was performed efficiently, but his mind and heart were elsewhere.
It had not taken him more than a couple of days performing discreet surveillance to figure out the priest’s habits: There was nothing hidden in his life and he seemed content with a daily routine. One of his discoveries had been Erestor’s nightly walk through the gardens once his duties were performed. He would carry a cup of tea with him and after a stroll would sit on a secluded bench where he appeared to observe nature and relax.
It had not been hard for Glorfindel to time his visits so he would arrive as the priest concluded his daily duties. After a few nights when Glorfindel left the Cathedral at the same time as Erestor walked out with his cup of tea, he was invited to accompany him on his nightly stroll. A few more nights, and the priest started appearing with two cups of steaming tea. Soon both were used to the companionship and it became part of Erestor’s routine.
Conversations about philosophy, history, art, and the goings of Arda were the subject of their discussions at first. Erestor was happy to have someone of equal intelligence and knowledge to spend some time with. There were other times when neither of them spoke, but it was never an uncomfortable silence.
For too long had Erestor kept himself emotionally distant from his followers. He was there for them, but had never expected anyone to be there for him. Spending time with someone when he was not being a priest was welcomed change. At least, that was what he thought, until that night.
Glorfindel had carefully thought this out. He was certain what brought him here was not his devotion to Nienna or the comfort others found. He was also certain the feelings were mutual, or at least that Erestor was not completely averse to him since he had readily accepted his company.
Once they were both comfortably seated on the wooden bench Glorfindel carefully placed his porcelain cup on the bench next to him, and then he took Erestor’s cup and placed it next to his. A strange and seemingly amused look from Erestor was his only response.
“Erestor, my life has changed since we met. I want to thank you for this,” he said looking into Erestor’s black eyes.
“There is nothing to thank me for my friend, I am also grateful that you have found the peace you searched for. My lady’s generosity knows no limits.”
Taking Erestor’s hands into his, Glorfindel explained. “It isn’t just that, it is your friendship, your company, that bring solace to my soul.”
Standing up and taking a step away from the bench, Erestor commented, “Friendships are to be treasured.”
Glorfindel nodded. “Erestor, I would like to be more than just your friend.”
“And you are,” Erestor said quickly, but averting his eyes.
Standing up and taking a step closer to him Glorfindel asked, “What am I?”
Erestor looked up and met his eyes. “You are someone who seeks comfort and love, a purpose in life, understanding of things.”
“I meant what am I to you?” Glorfindel asked sincerely.
“You said it yourself, you are a friend, and you have my love.” Making a pause Erestor looked into those beautiful sapphire blue eyes. “As do all who come here to seek peace and comfort.”
Shaking his head, Glorfindel turned around. After a minute in silence he asked, “What is it that you seek? Do you not need to feel loved in return, do you not seek comfort and understanding as well?”
“I am loved in return, I have been given comfort and understanding by my lady.”
“Yes,” Glorfindel said sadly, “you are loved in return, in more ways than you might know. However, the comfort and understanding I speak of is not one your lady can give, it is not hers to give. Apparently, it isn’t mine to give either,” he said with a tone of finality.
“You misunderstand,” Erestor said.
“Then explain to me!”
“I have duties to fulfill, all that was gifted to me also came with a price, you must know there is nothing in this world that comes without strings attached.”
“Erestor, my friend, you are being cryptic. I also have duties to fulfill. I have also paid a price for everything I have, that I can understand. Why do you refuse me?”
“I do not,” Erestor said sadly. “As I said I treasure your friendship, my halls are open to you, as is my heart.”
Once more Glorfindel tried to approach him but Erestor took a step back. Looking into his eyes Glorfindel nodded. “I understand,” he said, turning around and walking down the dark path.
Erestor sat on the bench and held the now cold cup of tea that had been Glorfindel’s, placing his lips where his had been before silent tears slid down his cheeks.
Once he was back in his room Glorfindel worked on sharpening his sword. He had much to ponder and spent most of the night pacing his room. Erestor’s words confused him, but his heart told him he was right, and he finally decided to return to the cathedral the next morning. The Balrog Slayer would not give up this easily, and if he could not have his love he would at least have his friendship; his company or the mere sight of him were a hundred times better than the void his life had been before.
*~*~*
There was a knock upon the door to Glorfindel’s office. “I didn’t see you at breakfast, so this may be short notice, but there is going to be a gathering of sorts in the Hall of Fire tonight.”
“Thank you, I shall have to excuse myself,” apologized Glorfindel.
“Oh?” Lord Elrond looked his seneschal over, slightly concerned. “Not that this is necessarily my place, but your social calendar used to be booked, and now it seems all you do is work, sleep, and occasionally eat.”
“And pray,” added Glorfindel. “I regretfully will not be attending the gathering here, for I have found something... not to insult the entertainment of the halls, but my nightly activities are much more... spiritual now.”
“Oh!” Elrond’s look changed to one of surprised pleasure. “I was not aware that you had returned after our first visit.”
“Every night,” admitted Glorfindel after a pause. He neglected to add “Every morning” as well.
Suspicion narrowed Elrond’s eyes. “Glorfindel, he is a servant of the Valar. I took you there to heal your soul and dispel your grief, not so that you could bed the priest.”
“I haven’t,” replied Glorfindel much more calmly than he would have at a previous time. Again, he held back his thoughts, this time the addition being, “Yet.”
Lord Elrond nodded. “I truly hope your intentions are pure. That you are entering the temple of Nienna without lustful thoughts.”
For a moment, Glorfindel fought not to slam his fist down upon the desktop. Instead, he smiled and said, “Yes, Ada,” as he looked up at Elrond.
Smiling back, Elrond shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just feel very protective of him, in some ways. No one really knows where he came from, why he does this, just that he does. He has helped me through much grief, and others rely upon him. For some who despair, his skills at listening and healing souls are what keep them from fading away.”
“I understand,” Glorfindel said, solemn once more. “I would never do anything to harm that relationship.”
Elrond took a step into the room and closed the door. “Glorfindel, I’m not sure you understand. He has taken vows, chastity among them. It would be very wrong of you to pursue him.”
Glorfindel blinked up at Elrond, dumbstruck. “That can’t be.”
“There are others, not just that. Poverty, humility, and reverence to the Valar – I am sure there are some even I do not know.” Elrond smiled sadly and said, “I am happy that you are at peace, that you have found your calm. But he is not meant for anyone, not even one as brave and noble as you.”
Once Elrond had gone, Glorfindel left his work abruptly and headed to the door. He left the house swiftly, and as soon as he was far enough away that he no longer saw the glimmer of candles in the windows, he began to run down the path that took him to Nienna’s hall.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
As his destination came into sight, Glorfindel could see the parishioners leaving from the nightly services that were held. He did not often attend these group sessions, for he did not want others to become wise to his reason for coming. As the few remaining elves trickled out, he went to the doors, greeting those who greeted him cordially.
The cathedral was silent as Glorfindel entered, the sound of the door closing behind him the only interruption. In one corner, many candles were lit and their light flickered against the dark walls. He walked down the main aisle, past the wooden benches to the front altar.
There was a divide here, a fence had been erected so that those who came to the front of the hall to pray as he and Elrond had the very first time they had come were still separated from the statue of Nienna and the pulpit that he had many times now watched and listened to Erestor speak from. When the priest was in the halls, Glorfindel’s heart was lightened, and his fears and doubts vanquished. Each time he left, no matter what he did between visits, it was simply time spent waiting until the next time he came.
What had he hoped to find here? He hadn’t hoped for anything, but indeed, he had found something. He had found hope. Elrond’s words had crushed that hope, sent him running in anger and despair to a cold stone building that did not give him the comfort he sought.
Glorfindel fell to his knees and wept, his hands clutching the rail that was built around the altar, that separated him from Erestor, that separated his world from the world of the one his heart ached for. He did not feel the cold, stone ground, nor the chill of the night air that blew through the room. It was not until he felt a hand upon his head that he came to know that someone had heard his sobbing.
Erestor stood on the other side of the barrier. “Good child of Eru,” he asked, stroking back the hair from Glorfindel’s face, “why do you weep the bitter tears of my mistress when your soul should be singing?”
It was the first time Glorfindel had been touched so informally by the priest, and he did not answer at first for he was shocked that he felt neither joy nor lust at the action, but calm. A great calm that washed over him, that slowed his breath and stopped his tears. “I am... I think I love you,” he admitted.
“Many love me,” answered Erestor. “I am a bringer of comfort, and a warrior against pain and grief.”
“No,” Glorfindel said, shaking his head. “I long for you. To be near you. To be with you. That is why I have come here, every night, and many days. I fear I have become ecclesiolatry for the wrong reasons.”
This seemed to either amuse or intrigue the priest, or perhaps both. “I have seen your devotion to Nienna and have listened to your prayers. Are you so certain your faith is false?”
Again, Glorfindel had no immediate answer. Finally, he said, “My initial intention was to see you, not to give thanks to a Vala.”
“And now?” questioned Erestor. “What do you feel now?” He let Glorfindel think on this before saying, “Perhaps I was only a means to an end, and to a beginning. Consider this, blessed child of Eru. Is it not possible that I was used as bait, to lure you to this temple, to show you the life of worship, so that you might choose this path?” Taking his hand from Glorfindel’s head, Erestor continued. “You have tempered your anger. You have found peace within yourself. Help me to find peace for others.”
“How?” asked Glorfindel.
“Join me,” Erestor said simply. “You say you wish to be with me, to be near me. Terrible times are upon us, and my work is too great for only one elf. Join me, child of Eru, and fulfill your own destiny.” Erestor reached down to the small gate that separated the altar from where the many elves would come to prayer and pulled the cord loose. The door swung open, out toward Glorfindel, very slowly. Then, Erestor turned and walked to the main altar, to the great statue of Nienna that was knelt, head bowed and hands to her face in perpetual mourning. He knelt down, and leaned forward to touch his head to the ground before rising once more and reciting a prayer, and then disappearing into the shadows once again.
