Glorfindel looked at the bare walls, small cot, and tiny windows of the room Erestor had called his quarters.
“We will get a bed for you,” Erestor said quickly, “and you can place your belongings here,” he said, pointing to a simple chest that was the only piece of furniture in the room besides the cot. “Although, you won’t need much. Perhaps it is better if you leave your belongings at the Last Homely House.”
Glorfindel simply nodded and followed him out of the room. To him everything still seemed unreal, it had happened so fast.
After Erestor had asked him to join him in serving Nienna, Glorfindel had returned to speak with Lord Elrond. Although he knew his long time friend doubted his motives for becoming a priest, Elrond was supportive of him and made the necessary arrangements to have someone take over his duties as soon as possible. In less than a week he had taken care of all his unfinished business and packed all of his possessions.
Taking one last look at the rooms where he had spent so much time and fearing a last minute change of mind, he closed the door behind him. He would not risk his only opportunity to spend his life with Erestor.
Gone were the elaborately embroidered tunics, his boots and the sword he had wielded in more battles than he cared to remember. The dark robes he now wore contrasted sharply with his golden hair, his bare feet made no sound as he walked the pebbled path that would lead him to his new home.
As he approached the large building at dawn he could see two tall figures waiting by the door. He immediately recognized the high priest in dark robes, but he was sure he had never seen the tall one in the gray cloak.
“Welcome, my brother,” Erestor said as Glorfindel stopped in front of them.
When the cloaked figure uncovered her face Glorfindel immediately fell to his knees. “My Lady,” he whispered as she placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Allow me to look into your eyes,” Nienna said.
Rising to his feet Glorfindel looked at her. He could feel as if her gaze pierced his very soul. There were no secrets hidden from this powerful being.
“I see your motivations,” Nienna said coldly. Glorfindel held her gaze levelly. “I can also see your determination and strength.” With a sigh she turned to look at Erestor. “Tell me, has Erestor explained to you what you are giving up? What your vows mean?”
“Chastity, humility, obedience. To aid and protect those in need,” Glorfindel said in a monotone.
“Do you understand what this means?” Nienna asked.
“It isn’t much different from the life of a warrior, my Lady.” His reply had been terse, his words polite and his tone of voice humble. It was the undercurrent to his words that upset Nienna, for she knew this was a proud being: One used to achieving success. One who would fight to his death for those he loved, and fiercely loyal, that he had proven.
“Very well, then. We shall proceed with the ceremony.”
Silent tears slid down her porcelain cheeks as they walked down the aisle of the large cathedral following her high priest. ‘He would die for me, he would die for his kinsmen. Will his love for Erestor be their redemption or their death?’ Nienna wondered, knowing she could very well loose them both if she denied Erestor’s request.
The ceremony was a simple one; much like a betrothal except standing next to Glorfindel was not his beloved, but a Vala, a powerful being to whom he was now bound for life. He was given a similar ring to the one Erestor had. The simple gold band with the fiery ruby on his hand left hand weighed heavily on his heart; unknowingly he found himself twirling it around much like Erestor as he remembered the day’s events and helped Erestor move the small bed into the sparsely furnished room that he would now call home.
~*~*~*~*~
“I still don’t know why they made me come,” shouted the irate elf, pointing accusingly at a very worried Lady Galadriel and a stoic Lord Celeborn. “Don’t they know that I hope to fade? That I want to die?”
“Is it truly what you want?” asked Erestor, trying to place a hand soothingly on the young elf’s shoulder.
“Yes!” he spat back, shoving the priest backwards. He thrust a hand towards the weeping statue and cried out, “She has no compassion! No concern! None of them do!”
Off to the side, Glorfindel was polishing the smooth wooden benches and cleaning the wax from the floor beneath the candles, two of his early morning duties before parishioners arrived. This morning, Lord Elrond had entered, followed by the keepers of the realm of Lothlorien, practically dragging with them a very distraught elf who was cursing in ways even Glorfindel had never thought to do prior to his joining the priesthood. No one had told him why the elf was here, but he knew – he knew from the anger, from the tears, from the fury in which he fought back, that something grave had happened to someone this elf loved deeply, and now he wanted nothing more than to be swept away by the sea or blown by the winds. Not to think, not to feel, not to live.
His bonded was dead.
“Haldir!” Lord Celeborn said reproachfully, “Is this what she would have wanted you to do? To leave your young daughter an orphan, to cause your family even more suffering? Renien’s death was-“
Haldir shrieked and covered his ears, falling to his knees. “Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it,” he pleaded in a soft voice. “Don’t say her name, don’t say it.” He drowned himself out with sobs and piteous wails, and even Erestor looked at a loss for what to do.
Setting down the box of fresh candles, Glorfindel silently approached the group and after looking to Erestor for guidance and receiving a nod, knelt down next to the elf. “Haldir?” Glorfindel waited again until the young elf began to run out of tears to cry and sniffled against the sleeve of his tunic. “Haldir, my name is Glorfindel, and I’d like to help you in this difficult time.”
Haldir snorted. “You can’t help me, nobody can.”
“If you refuse help, then you are correct. We cannot help you. But I’d like to try.” Glorfindel sat back on his feet and said, “You probably think none of us knows your pain. But I do.” Again, Haldir made a noise of discontent, his hair obscuring his face and head bowed to the floor. “I wasn’t always a priest, I used to be the Captain of Imladris, so I truly know what it’s like. To be a fighter. To be a warrior, charged with the safety of others, to come to realize you have no control over the lives of those you love. So you do what you can, you compromise, and you try not to have regrets. Do you have regrets?”
Haldir looked up at Glorfindel, the shield of hair falling back and revealing his confusion. “No,” he finally said, shaking his head. “No, I loved her, but I love the forest and it was my duty to protect it. I don’t regret a single moment, how can I? I just… I feel so empty... how am I to live without her?”
“Comfort yourself in knowing she has a chance at rebirth, that Lord Namo is keeping her safe, and that Lady Nienna soothes her soul. She does in Valinor what we try to do here. I cannot make the pain go away, but I can perhaps lighten your burden a little. Will you pray with me?” Glorfindel asked, holding his hand out to Haldir.
Again the young elf looked confused, but something made him nod, and he was helped from the floor and led to the gate that encircled the altar. Here Glorfindel bowed his head and knelt upon the stone. After staring at the weeping statue for a few seconds, Haldir let out a deep sigh and dropped down to one knee, bending his other to rest his folded hands upon and looked around the altar, obviously ill at ease.
“Lady Nienna,” Glorfindel spoke softly, not often voicing his prayers aloud, but feeling the situation called for it, “help us to comfort this child of Eru in his time of grief, to guide him, and to care for him, and for his daughter. Keep safe his beloved wife within the halls of your brother, and let her find neither pain nor sorrow there. Help him see the happiness and joy in his life and with his family, and give him the hope of the future to come. Namar.”
“Namar,” repeated the rest of the elves in the cathedral, including Haldir, who was still staring at the great statue.
“You have a daughter,” said Glorfindel as he turned to face the calmed elf, who was more composed, but looked a bit stunned. Haldir nodded. “You should go to her, be with her at this difficult time. You may find that you can aid one another.”
Haldir considered this and then nodded, standing up as Glorfindel did. “Thank you,” he said, looking down at his hands.
Glorfindel gave a nod, and then after weighing the possibilities, stepped forward and gave Haldir a hug. The young elf was caught off guard, but relaxed as Glorfindel stood back again. “Have you expressed your grief in front of your child?”
Haldir shook his head. “No. I did not want her to see me like this.”
“Have you expressed your grief before today?”
There was another negative gesture, and Haldir admitted, “I haven’t really at all, not before today. I distanced myself from everyone, friends and family, hoping I would just forget. But the memories gnawed at me, and I could no longer...” Haldir sighed. “Four years. I thought I could make myself forget, but when the pain caught up to me, I just didn’t want to go on.”
“But you have so much to live for. And your daughter, that’s why you have held on, is it not?” asked Glorfindel. Haldir nodded. “Then go to her, and let her know your feelings. If you’ve kept this inside, perhaps she has kept her feelings to herself as well.”
A dawning came into Haldir’s eyes. “I can’t believe I’ve been such a terrible father,” he suddenly said.
Glorfindel shook his head. “You were being a very good husband. I am sure you are a wonderful father.”
Not knowing how to respond to the compliments, Haldir looked to those who had brought him. “I must return to Lothlorien,” he said with urgency to Lord Celeborn. “I must return now.”
Celeborn nodded and he and Haldir swiftly made their way from the cathedral as the first rays of sunlight began to touch the windows. Galadriel stayed a few moments longer, observing the hall one last time before thanking the priests and Lord Elrond and following her husband and the marchwarden out the door.
“Remarkable,” said Elrond after the door shut.
Glorfindel slowly looked to him and tilted his head. “What is?”
“Had I not seen it with my own eyes...” Elrond smiled. “My dear friend, there is something you can heal that I cannot. I am, as I always am when I come here,” he said, glancing to Erestor, “most humbly impressed.” Lord Elrond bowed to them and left the cathedral.
~*~*~*~*~
‘A minute. How long is a minute? Eternity gazing into the eyes of the one you love can seem too short, but a minute in a sleepless night can seem eternal.’ Careful not to make noise Glorfindel turned once more, with his back to the wall and facing Erestor’s bed he tried to relax and find rest.
The days were not a problem, between parishioners and his obligations he kept himself busy. Concentrating on others helped, physical labor helped too. Talking to Erestor did not. Watching him sleep peacefully only made matters worse. To Glorfindel it seemed the high priest’s head barely touched the pillow every night when he was already sleeping. ‘How I wish I could sleep like that,’ he thought as he turned again.
His eyes were fixed on the mortar that kept the large stones forming the wall in place. In the past few nights he had not only found patterns in the way the stones had been lain, but also in the small grains of sand that protruded from the mortar filling. Still his mind always wandered back to the elf not three yards from him.
With a quiet sigh he turned once more, and lying on his back stared at the ceiling. Only the stars above provided some pale light that filtered through the window. Erestor’s kind eyes, his hands, the light reflecting on his raven black hair, the kindness he showed to all around him, his velvety voice. All those details had been memorized; however, that was not what kept him awake night after night.
No pleasantries were provided for Nienna’s priests, no tub filled with warm water for bathing, nor scented oils. Instead their day started with a quick bath in the cold stream that ran behind the cathedral. Every morning before dawn they walked together and cleansed themselves in the semi privacy of a secluded pond.
Those images were the ones in Glorfindel’s mind as time slowly trickled by. The first time he had seen Erestor naked and his trim but well defined body showered in moonlight would forever be etched in his memory.
That first morning it had taken him several minutes to be able to join Erestor in the water. His body’s response to the sight had been immediate and sometimes he feared not even the bone chilling water and semidarkness would be enough to keep him in check. If Erestor had noticed anything, he was too kind and polite to mention it and Glorfindel was forever grateful.
‘Love is not a sin, it can not be!’ he finally thought before allowing himself to indulge in his fantasy. Closing his eyes he lifted the blanket and caressed himself. In his mind it was Erestor who was touching him, murmuring loving words in his ear as his hands slowly slid down his chest, further down to where his body ached for release. Clamping his mouth and burying his face on the pillow to muffle any sound his body arched as waves of pleasure washed through him.
Even if his lips did not utter a sound, his mind yelled Erestor’s name. ‘Am I a sinner?’ he wondered as he finally fell asleep.
Erestor’s eyes fluttered open once he was sure Glorfindel was deep in reverie. He knew exactly what had happened, and he was shocked by the shivers he was still experiencing, by his carnal reaction to Glorfindel’s sinful actions in the house of Nienna. He could understand Glorfindel was barely adjusting, still had not cut all ties with a previous life, with his physical desires, but him, a high priest, this was not a mere sin. One word slipped into his mind: Peccatiphilia.
So it was that Erestor’s turn to find patterns in the mortar walls started.
~*~*~*~*~
Time passed. Seasons changed. The two priests worked to comfort the suffering of their kin. Years flew by.
It was in the early morning hours so many years later when Glorfindel was roused from sleep by the sound of someone entering the cathedral. Though he was far from the entrance, back in the small, bare room he and Erestor shared, he was already pulling his robe on as he headed to the door before Erestor had opened his eyes. “Someone sneaking in, I think,” he whispered as he pulled the door open, shivering as the cold night air entered the room.
“All are welcome in the temple of Nienna,” yawned Erestor as he stretched his arms up over his head and began to push himself out of his own tiny bed.
Glorfindel smiled and nodded, but just in case, took his walking stick with him as he headed down the hall to the altar. On the other side stood Lord Elrond, panting heavily, and sweat on his brow. “Forgive me for intruding so late,” he said, bowing his head.
“You do not intrude,” assured Erestor from behind Glorfindel. The blonde turned and stepped away to allow Erestor in front of him. “What is it we may offer you?”
Elrond stood silently for a short time, glancing at Erestor, but looking mostly at Glorfindel. “I would not ask, but we are in a most desperate situation.”
Glorfindel shifted his gaze to Erestor, whose lips had drawn into a tight line and whose brow was now furled, and then to Elrond, palms up as if begging for forgiveness before asking, but then, hadn’t he already asked? “Surely, you have soldiers capable of... whatever it is that threatens Imladris,” suggested Glorfindel, though it was not his place to talk with Erestor there.
Elrond shook his head. “This is beyond Imladris, Glorfindel, we need you.”
Glorfindel started to apologize, but Erestor raised his hand. “Go,” he said.
“But my oath-“
“-is to bring peace and comfort, and if you can do that outside these walls, you will be welcomed back when you return.” Erestor turned to Glorfindel and took his hands into his. “Use your hands to defend,” he said softly, kissing the back of the right one, “when they are not folded in prayer,” he finished, kissing the left. He let go of Glorfindel’s hands and placed his own on Glorfindel’s shoulders. As Glorfindel bowed his head, Erestor kissed the top of his golden crown. “Remember your vows, remember your heart. Return to me when you are done, Brother Glorfindel,” he whispered, and then reached down to untie the gate.
As it swung open, Glorfindel looked at Erestor and nodded to him, and then looked to Elrond before walking down the aisle to the exit. He took one last look back to the altar, and at the door bent down upon his knees, bowing to the stone statue that wept, and then silently rose and left the halls.
Lord Elrond watched as Erestor solemnly retied the gate closed. “You said ‘return to me’.”
Erestor looked startled suddenly. “I meant ‘us’,” he said quietly.
“He loves you, you know,” Elrond said, reaching out to touch the priest’s hand, and then drawing back.
Erestor nodded. “I know.”
Elrond nodded back. “Thank you,” he said, and received no reply. He bowed his head reverently and walked back to the entrance. Just before exiting, he looked back and asked, “Are you ever going to let him know that the sentiment is returned?”
Erestor looked aghast. “I have taken vows of-“
“I didn’t say you had to make love to him,” admonished Elrond, “but you can love him.”
Erestor watched as Elrond left, blinking back the tears in his eyes. “I do love him,” he finally admitted to himself. “I do.”
