Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love
--L Cohen r11; dance me to the end of love
The sky was heavy with rain and a cold breeze blew in from the east. Camp was breaking up little by little and the elves and men who survived this battle were slowly making their way home to reclaim their lives. This should have been a time of happiness, after all the war was won, evil overthrown, and the Dark Lord Sauron had perished. But in the heart of all the elves this was a dark time after all. They had lost their leader Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldo, who had fallen in battle. Erestor, his only living kin, had set the funeral pyre; it had burned throughout the night. And here at dawn only two were left, Erestor and the young master Elrond.
Erestor was lost in thought, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the cinder on the ground before him was all that was left of his cousin. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Blinking, tired, he took a casual look down at himself and saw the bloody and dirty uniform he couldn't wait to remove. He was tired of war, tired of fighting. All he wanted now was to take a long bath and journey home. Erestor looked up again and this time his gaze was fastened on the horizon. Home... home was gone. Beleriand had ceased to exist. Yet in all the time he had spent with Erenion's army, the reality had not fully had time to sink in, that he had nowhere which to return. His house with the light blue corridors and the little fruit garden r11; all gone, and all he had now was this uniform and a worn tent with his few personal belongings stowed inside.
"Lord Erestor?" someone said.
Erestor turned his head and saw Elrond bend over and pluck something from the cinder.
"Yes, young master Elrond?" he said softly, smiling at the young elf who he vaguely thought looked just as war weary as he.
"Forgive me for prying," Elrond said as he slowly stood, brushing the ashes from an object that shimmered in the morning sun, "but have you made up your mind yet?"
"Excuse me?" Erestor said, looking from the silver gadget to Elrond's stormy grey eyes
"Your home, Lord Erestor, where will you go from here?" for a second Erestor saw something that resembled a wistful smile in the grey eyes, and then as he slowly shook his head, Elrond continued, his voice thick with emotion, "The king is dead, and our home is gone." the half-elf said softly, "Whither shall you hail from this day forth, my friend?"
"I...I don't know, master Elrond." Erestor said with a sigh. "Maybe my time here in Middle Earth has just come to an end." The black haired elf laid a friendly hand on Elrond's shoulder, "And you my friend? What about you? You lost so much more than I."
"Not true," Elrond said, "We both lost what was left of family, the link that reminded us of who we were."
Erestor squeezed Elrond's shoulder and smiled sadly. "You do not have to be brave, young master." Elrond looked down at his feet and Erestor continued in a mere whisper "You have been brave enough for millenniums to last."
Elrond smiled and looked up at Erestor as he clapped him on the shoulder as well. "Come with me, Lord Erestor, I can give you a home and a purpose once more."
"To where?" Erestor heard himself say.
"The mountains." Elrond answered. "There I have built a realm, a realm called Imladris where I had always thought to see Erenion rule... but as he is not... it is just me."
Erestor smiled, "You are more than capable of that, my friend."
"You are too kind," Elrond said as he removed his hand from Erestor's shoulder. He opened his other hand where the silvery thing from the cinders lay. It seemed almost an offence to see this beautiful piece of jewellery against the dirty, rough leather glove. "Take this, it is rightfully yours."
Erestor looked down at the buckle with the stars on it. "That was Erenion's..." He looked up at Elrond, "You should keep it."
"Nay," Elrond said, "You can return it if you wish when you join me in my new realm." The war-clad elf bit his lip and said, "I need you there."
Erestor took the buckle and looked at Elrond with a suspicious squint. "Why do you need me? What skill do I possess that could be of interest to you?"
Taken a bit aback by the harsh tone in Erestor's words, Elrond took a step back. "I have always valued your council." he said honestly.
Erestor smiled a strained smile. "Are you offering me a place at your side as a councillor?"
"Yes," Elrond said, "and I sincerely hope that you will take my offer." Erestor said nothing. He just looked at Elrond as if he were trying to sort out what it was the young half-elf was really saying. "With all due respect, Lord Erestor," Elrond said with a more steadfast voice than before, "I need an experienced councillor, and you need a home. Why do you not see that we need to stand by each other in these dire times?"
Long moments of silence followed and in the end Erestor said, "I do not know, Elrond."
Then Elrond bowed courteously and said, "You have my offer, Lord Erestor. I shall be leaving tomorrow at dawn."
"Peace be with you, Elrond." Erestor said, and he bowed as well. Elrond nodded and left.
Erestor walked back to his tent, and with a sigh he unclasped the heavy breastplate and let it fall to the floor at his feet. What should he do with such an offer? Go with Elrond to his new realm and live life there peacefully as an advisor? It sounded tempting, and as he kicked off his boots and sat down heavily on a chair, his entire body yearned for a life of peace, filled with dusty scrolls and good food.
Pulling off the heavy gloves and then his tunic, he leaned back in the most uncomfortable chair and closed his eyes. Imladris, it sounded like a pleasant place, a serene haven in the mountains, and most of all, Elrond wanted him there. He of all elves...
No, he could not go, no matter how much his body yearned for comfort and his soul for peace. He would not find it in Imladris. If he were truly honest with himself, he knew that peace would not come to him in the mountains.
Elrond.
There was no way he could live out the rest of his eternity next to him, feeling this torment deep within. He would have to stand by, watching the young elf he used to know grow into a capable leader, an admired soul; and he would beam within knowing that he helped this happen, as one last homage to his cousin. Erenion would have loved to see his young lover succeed in life without him to lean on. But in time... in time Elrond would feel alone, and then he would acquire a new lover. Then Erestor would have to stand by and watch his protégé profess his love to some other lucky elf. And he would, yes he would do that. He would help raise Elrond's children as if they were they his own, he would love Elrond's mate as if she were family - even as his heart broke. Could he do this to himself? Live a half existence in the shadow of Elrond's love for another?
Once, Elrond had been a young elf, with fire in his eyes and an unruly spirit, much different from the elf he was now. Back then Elrond had enthralled him at first sight. Erestor smiled to himself as he relaxed even more in the uncomfortable chair.
He remembered this young elf, always lurking in the shadows of his family's house. What he, back then, had thought to be shyness, he now knew was love -but not for him as he had once believed.
Elrond son of Eärendil had never caught the taste of the sea breeze as did his father. No, Elrond would rather snoop around in the corridors of the High King's court. Erestor had thought at the time that Elrond considered himself destined for greater things than being a mariner, as his father had been. Eärendil had more than once stopped Erestor, asking him what his son was doing there all day long, but Erestor had no answer for him other than he seemed to be the king's shadow. This did not sit well with Eärendil, and Erestor wished now, as he had wished back then, that Elrond had chosen another direction in life.
Back then Erestor had not realised that he was slowly falling in love with the young elf. That, in itself, was incredibly stupid. Silly infatuations were for young elleths, not for adult elves. At least Erestor had considered himself adult back then, but looking back he knew this was not so. Somehow those fiery grey eyes had captured his interest and begun to fill his dreams, both sleeping and waking.
When Elrond came to him, Erestor did not think much of it. The Peredhil had asked the elder elf to please walk with him, saying he had something on which he would like his opinion. And of course Erestor had felt somewhat flattered and amused. He was, after all, the king's advisor, and here this image of untamed beauty stood, looking at his feet like a fool, asking his advice. This he could not resist, so he chuckled softly and took the young elf's arm.
The path led them to his patio doors, and Erestor guided Elrond to the bench that was placed up against the outside wall. Listening to Elrond's worries, he had to use all the self-control he could muster to not get lost in the moment, and this was when it hit him for the first time that he had fallen in love with Elrond. When had that happened? Lost in own thoughts, he did not even notice when Elrond leaned in and softly kissed him.
Feeling those soft lips on his, the thing he had wanted - without knowing he wanted it until this moment - startled him, and he looked up at Elrond, completely astounded, and asked him why. But Elrond had just blushed and dropped his eyes. This had pushed aside every argument Erestor might have had against his next action, and he grabbed the youth's chin with his hand and leaned in for yet another kiss.
He shouldn't have done that, he knew it... But this taste of forbidden fruit tasted too sweet, and his mind had a hard time comprehending that it was, in fact, Elrond who was squirming impatiently in his arms.
The eagerness in the youth's kisses soon had Erestor dragging them both into his private chambers. They had left the patio doors open, yet no sound did he hear except Elrond's soft breaths and passionate moans. For hours it was as if no one else even existed, there was only the two of them in the whole universe. He did not mind that Elrond fumbled, and he waited patiently for the young elf to loose his clothes with sweaty, shaking palms. The times Elrond's teeth clashed with his in the younger elf's excitement he thought charming, because it was all for him. Elrond was with him, responding to his touch with such enthusiasm that Erestor had a hard time believing it was not a dream.
And before he knew it, before he wished it, it was all over. He opened his eyes, looking at the beautiful youth who now lay there in his bed, short of breath and with a flustered expression. Erestor had found his release; something within him had broken loose and spread, giving him a sated feeling throughout his body. Had he found this release though intercourse? Had they talked before or after? He did not remember. He only remembered the dark brown hair that clung to the fair brow, and the lips slightly parted, breathing in little puffs of air.
Love. It had been the fiery flames of love he had felt fill his entire being. Back then he had not been sure, but now he was. He had been love struck right there and then. Oh how sweet that feeling had been, so sweet he had searched everywhere ever since to experience it again, no other elation was like that. But he had never found it. No lover had given him the same shivers, no matter how tender their touch, no master, no matter how rough their mating might had been, had made him want to beg for more. No mead, no pipeweed... nothing in the entire world would ever bring him that sense of satisfaction, this was Elrond's doing alone. Only Elrond could make him feel the sweet sensation that set fire to his blood.
All he really remembered was waking up, not even being aware that he had fallen asleep, and finding the other side of his bed cold and empty. Elrond had slipped out the open patio doors in the dark of night. At first he had not known what to think, but was still full of hope. Hope for what? That Elrond would return? He waited as he ate his breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but the young elf did not return that day. That night his bed seemed cold and alien, and he knew that he had secretly been waiting for that well known slender shadow of the young elf that used to be ever present. But though he waited, hours turned into days, days into weeks, and Elrond did not come back to him. Erestor became worried and he finally asked his cousin if he had seen the young elf. Much to Erestor's dawning horror he learned the truth right there and then, the reason for Elrond's absence was that he had found himself comfortable in someone else's bed. Standing there listening to Erenion, Erestor could almost physically feel his heart crumble. When would he learn not to be so trusting? He had bowed his head to his king and left.
Then years followed and he watched the young elf turn into a mighty warrior and a most handsome elf. He watched Elrond become the High King's trusted mate, no longer the fumbling youth that had found his way to the king's chambers. And now... now he watched a broken elf mourning the death of his mate. Could he really do this again?
Erestor decided that he would have to sleep on it, and he dragged his worn body off to his sleeping pelts, almost falling face first upon the soft furs.
The grey light of dawn seeped through the cracks in the tent and Erestor woke, and groaned. How could it be morning when he felt like had not slept at all? All night he had battled with nightmares, Erenion haunting his steps, warning him, coaxing him to do what he was so afraid to do.
The raven-haired elf got up from his warm resting place and pulled on his only leggings and a clean tunic, on his way out he grabbed a warm coat. He should not feel the cold, he knew, but he did this day, a cold that went through bone and marrow, the fear of being alone and useless.
As he got to the spot where Elrond's tent had been he saw it was now just a trampled area of scorched grass and dirt. Elrond and his company had already left for the mountains. Erestor felt his heart sink. Once again he was standing silenced by circumstances. And the empty space seemed to mock him with its emptiness. Erestor sighed and wrapped the fur coat closer around him as a pathetic excuse for the embrace he really needed, and he turned away, returning to his tent. Once more Elrond had taken his decision from him.
Months had gone by, and now Erestor was on his way to Elrond's valley realm at the foot of the Misty Mountains. Erestor had spent all this time debating what to do, and now he had made his decision. It was spring and the gentle breeze, the new life growing all around had inspired him. Yes, he could live with being the ghost behind Elrond. After all, this was what he had always been. He could no longer deny that Elrond would remain his first and only love. And though his love would never be returned in kind, it simply did not matter anymore.
Or maybe things would be different after all.
Riding over the bridge to Imladris, Erestor was bone weary from the long journey. Looking at the valley from the ridge above, across the Bruinen and over the leafy trees and waterfalls, he had to admit that this was a most magnificent place Elrond had made for himself, most fit for an Elven Lord. He pulled back his black hood and felt the breeze, cool with the spring and the mist, hit his face. A little light danced before him and at first he wondered what it was, but then he realised it was the buckle, Erenion's buckle, which a smith had made into a brooch and which he now used as a clasp for his cloak. The silver caught the rays of the sun, dancing in front of him on the road as though showing him the way.
Erestor smiled to himself, hoping this was a sign. Riding into the courtyard, he heard a voice call his name. He looked up and there was Elrond, smiling at him in welcome.
'Don't worry, dear cousin,' Erestor thought, the sharp longing in his heart dulled to a wistful ache, 'I will take good care of him until the sea calls us home, and he is once again yours.'
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Dance Me To the End by Azzy
Story notes: I AM aware that Erestor and Gil-Galad are not related in any way, I just thought it would be funny for this fic to make them cousins, and to use the challenge that Mer gave me as well, since I did promise her to write a Elrond/Gil fic. This is maybe not exactly what she had in mind... But, hey, muses work in mysterious ways! r11; thanks to EJ for jumping on my plotbunny, be sure to read her fic too (insert link) since they are made in different pow's over the same plot. This fic is written for the Library of Moria forum's first time challenge -
Beta: Ignoblebard
Has a companion piece: The Teacher.
