For lackam: A Full Season's Grief (Elrond/Glorfindel; G)
Note from the mods: In the process of assuring everyone had a story at the time of the reveal, a few participants ended up with more than one. This story is a little extra something for lackam. Her primary story is here.
Title: A Full Season's Grief
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Pairing: Elrond/Glorfindel
Rating: G
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I have a vivid fantasy life, but I do not pretend to be JRR Tolkien, nor do I pretend to own his characters.
Summary: For Elrond, this time the loss is too great.
Notes: A little something extra written for lackam for lotr_sesa. Among other things, she requested a story of Fourth-Age Elrond, tired of having to give up everything. I hope I've managed to do the prompt justice. Happy Holidays!
A Full Season's Grief
By Galadriel
Elrond looked out his casement window at the Gulf of Lhûn, watching as the ships bobbed gently in their moorings. He shook his head, shaking off the despair that threatened, and turned from the window, back to his room. His eyes swept across the furnishings, stopping onto to rest on the trunks that cluttered the corner near the door. He knew the contents of each, knew they were nothing more than clothes, books and keepsakes, yet they gave him a certain comfort he failed to find in the world outside these walls.
Caught in his musings, he did not hear Glorfindel's approach until the Elf's arms were about his waist, his breath sweet against his cheek. "What thoughts furrow that wise brow, now, my love?" he murmured as he brushed his fingers over Elrond's forehead. "The time for rest is almost upon us, and there is no longer any need for care."
Elrond smiled, stroking the back of Glorfindel's hand, leaning into his embrace. He nodded, allowing himself to relax a little more, drinking in Glorfindel's warmth and strength. "I am glad you are cheered by the thought of our departure. Truly, it will be a joy to see Aman with my own eyes, and yet..." He sighed and patted Glorfindel's forearm. "No matter."
But Glorfindel was never one to be so easily dissuaded. He nuzzled his way up Elrond's neck, murmuring in his ear, "Unload your troubles on me, my lord. My shoulders are wide. I can carry their weight."
Elrond shivered at the light press of lips beneath his ear, the smile he could feel curving against his skin. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, an ever-present reminder of all that weighed him down. "I find myself surprisingly attached to this place, and cannot comprehend its loss." He gestured at the window, taking in not just Mithlond, but the lands they had already traversed and left behind.
Glorfindel nodded, licking lightly at Elrond's skin. "We have lived here for long enough that it has become home, no matter what calls us from across the sea." He brushed at Elrond's hair, baring the nape of his neck and continuing his attentions there.
"Indeed." Elrond stifled a small shiver as Glorfindel found and teased a sensitive spot with the tip of his tongue. "But it is more than just that." Regret tinged his breath as he exhaled. "I have given up so much over the long years of my life, and now I am being asked to give up once more."
"Ah." Glorfindel paused in his attentions, resting his cheek against Elrond's own. "Your children. Of course."
Elrond nodded. "I did not think Elladan and Elrohir would choose to stay behind. I can feel their loss already in my breast," he touched his chest, the pain there blossoming as he spoke the words aloud, "although I know I will see them once again." He wet his lips, afraid to speak the rest.
"But the Lady Arwen," Glorfindel murmured gently, "you fear is lost to you forever."
The lump in Elrond's throat grew, threatening to block all speech. "She has been given the same choice of all of my line, and has followed my brother down the path of Men. She will never see the shores of the West, and I shall never enter the Halls of Mandos. We are forever dissevered." His knees buckled as the pain became too great, and Glorfindel guided him across the room to sit at the foot of the wide bed. He blinked away the tears that threatened, concentrating instead on the simple act of breathing in and out, and the steadying strength of the arm about his shoulders.
They sat there for long moments, nothing but the gentle rustle of curtains in the breeze and the faint creak of seaworthy wood far below to punctuate their silence. Glorfindel took to rubbing slow circles across Elrond's back, an oddly soothing motion better suited to inconsolable youths not yet out of their first hundred years, and yet Elrond appreciated the gesture more than he could say.
Eventually, Glorfindel cleared his throat. The care was obvious in his voice as he murmured, "I think you do not give the Valar proper credit, my love." He hesitated, taking a deep breath before he spoke again, "I believe you to be beloved of Nienna, and while the blessings of the Aratar are great, hers comes with an equal price. You have been beset by grief your whole long life, but Nienna is wise, and does not forget her favourites." Glorfindel stroked Elrond's cheek, coaxing him closer and gifting him with a gentle kiss. "Do not forget that she travels to Mandos' Halls more often than any of her kin, and I am certain she will not keep you and Arwen divided forever. You may weep now," his fingertip caught a tear Elrond had failed to wipe away, "but she has pity in her heart, and from your grief will bloom fruit and flowers. You only have to weather the winter for a short time more."
Those words settled around Elrond like a cloak, enfolding him and soothing his hurt, banking the fire that fuelled so much of his regret. It was a small hope, but a hope all the same, and he was chagrined that Glorfindel should have faith where he did not. Perhaps all these years amongst Men had taken away more than he had suspected. Perhaps along the way he had lost a little of his long sight, and in losing that, he had mislaid the ability to see possibilities yet unborn.
He would have faith. He would board the White Ship with Glorfindel at his side, and even as he looked back upon the lands he was leaving, he would bid his heart to lightness, for if Nienna was watching over him, if any of the Valar still had pity left for him, he would see his daughter once again. Turning to his companion, Elrond smiled. "Thank you," he murmured, brushing his lips across Glorfindel's cheek.
It was only another winter, and the snow would always give way to the spring.
END
(December 2010)
Title: A Full Season's Grief
Author: Galadriel (caras_galadhon)
Pairing: Elrond/Glorfindel
Rating: G
Feedback: Always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I have a vivid fantasy life, but I do not pretend to be JRR Tolkien, nor do I pretend to own his characters.
Summary: For Elrond, this time the loss is too great.
Notes: A little something extra written for lackam for lotr_sesa. Among other things, she requested a story of Fourth-Age Elrond, tired of having to give up everything. I hope I've managed to do the prompt justice. Happy Holidays!
A Full Season's Grief
By Galadriel
Elrond looked out his casement window at the Gulf of Lhûn, watching as the ships bobbed gently in their moorings. He shook his head, shaking off the despair that threatened, and turned from the window, back to his room. His eyes swept across the furnishings, stopping onto to rest on the trunks that cluttered the corner near the door. He knew the contents of each, knew they were nothing more than clothes, books and keepsakes, yet they gave him a certain comfort he failed to find in the world outside these walls.
Caught in his musings, he did not hear Glorfindel's approach until the Elf's arms were about his waist, his breath sweet against his cheek. "What thoughts furrow that wise brow, now, my love?" he murmured as he brushed his fingers over Elrond's forehead. "The time for rest is almost upon us, and there is no longer any need for care."
Elrond smiled, stroking the back of Glorfindel's hand, leaning into his embrace. He nodded, allowing himself to relax a little more, drinking in Glorfindel's warmth and strength. "I am glad you are cheered by the thought of our departure. Truly, it will be a joy to see Aman with my own eyes, and yet..." He sighed and patted Glorfindel's forearm. "No matter."
But Glorfindel was never one to be so easily dissuaded. He nuzzled his way up Elrond's neck, murmuring in his ear, "Unload your troubles on me, my lord. My shoulders are wide. I can carry their weight."
Elrond shivered at the light press of lips beneath his ear, the smile he could feel curving against his skin. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, an ever-present reminder of all that weighed him down. "I find myself surprisingly attached to this place, and cannot comprehend its loss." He gestured at the window, taking in not just Mithlond, but the lands they had already traversed and left behind.
Glorfindel nodded, licking lightly at Elrond's skin. "We have lived here for long enough that it has become home, no matter what calls us from across the sea." He brushed at Elrond's hair, baring the nape of his neck and continuing his attentions there.
"Indeed." Elrond stifled a small shiver as Glorfindel found and teased a sensitive spot with the tip of his tongue. "But it is more than just that." Regret tinged his breath as he exhaled. "I have given up so much over the long years of my life, and now I am being asked to give up once more."
"Ah." Glorfindel paused in his attentions, resting his cheek against Elrond's own. "Your children. Of course."
Elrond nodded. "I did not think Elladan and Elrohir would choose to stay behind. I can feel their loss already in my breast," he touched his chest, the pain there blossoming as he spoke the words aloud, "although I know I will see them once again." He wet his lips, afraid to speak the rest.
"But the Lady Arwen," Glorfindel murmured gently, "you fear is lost to you forever."
The lump in Elrond's throat grew, threatening to block all speech. "She has been given the same choice of all of my line, and has followed my brother down the path of Men. She will never see the shores of the West, and I shall never enter the Halls of Mandos. We are forever dissevered." His knees buckled as the pain became too great, and Glorfindel guided him across the room to sit at the foot of the wide bed. He blinked away the tears that threatened, concentrating instead on the simple act of breathing in and out, and the steadying strength of the arm about his shoulders.
They sat there for long moments, nothing but the gentle rustle of curtains in the breeze and the faint creak of seaworthy wood far below to punctuate their silence. Glorfindel took to rubbing slow circles across Elrond's back, an oddly soothing motion better suited to inconsolable youths not yet out of their first hundred years, and yet Elrond appreciated the gesture more than he could say.
Eventually, Glorfindel cleared his throat. The care was obvious in his voice as he murmured, "I think you do not give the Valar proper credit, my love." He hesitated, taking a deep breath before he spoke again, "I believe you to be beloved of Nienna, and while the blessings of the Aratar are great, hers comes with an equal price. You have been beset by grief your whole long life, but Nienna is wise, and does not forget her favourites." Glorfindel stroked Elrond's cheek, coaxing him closer and gifting him with a gentle kiss. "Do not forget that she travels to Mandos' Halls more often than any of her kin, and I am certain she will not keep you and Arwen divided forever. You may weep now," his fingertip caught a tear Elrond had failed to wipe away, "but she has pity in her heart, and from your grief will bloom fruit and flowers. You only have to weather the winter for a short time more."
Those words settled around Elrond like a cloak, enfolding him and soothing his hurt, banking the fire that fuelled so much of his regret. It was a small hope, but a hope all the same, and he was chagrined that Glorfindel should have faith where he did not. Perhaps all these years amongst Men had taken away more than he had suspected. Perhaps along the way he had lost a little of his long sight, and in losing that, he had mislaid the ability to see possibilities yet unborn.
He would have faith. He would board the White Ship with Glorfindel at his side, and even as he looked back upon the lands he was leaving, he would bid his heart to lightness, for if Nienna was watching over him, if any of the Valar still had pity left for him, he would see his daughter once again. Turning to his companion, Elrond smiled. "Thank you," he murmured, brushing his lips across Glorfindel's cheek.
It was only another winter, and the snow would always give way to the spring.
END
(December 2010)