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The Wrong Path	By : Erviniae Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 4082 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 16
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Title: The Wrong Path
Author: erviniae
Chapter 17/?
Prompt: #45 �The Wrong Path�
For the Hall of Books challenge
Pairing: Erestor/Ecthelion, Glorfindel
Rating: PG to eventual NC-17
Warning: AU, Angst, M/M
Disclaimer: All belongs to the esteemed Tolkien. I make no profit
in having fun with his wonderful universe.
Summary: Sometimes the wrong path is often the
Right one.
Feedback: If you would be so kind.

Sorry it has been so long since my last chapter. :(

Melpomaen rode with Lady Celebr�an to her yearly excursion to the city of Tirion. Here she would make trade agreements for textiles not available to the vale of New Imladris. The wool of the vale�s sheep was much sought out for the suppleness of its fleece: for there was none finer in all of Valinor.
Nigh a week they spent in the complete comfort of her husband�s grandparent�s home. Idril and Tuor relished the visits with Celebr�an as she constantly delighted them with stories of their grandson�s life in a way that was much more intimate than in any written word available inside the great Library of T�na. Their luxurious house was located in the center of the very city itself. A city that thrived of old yet mingled with new: Elves born upon the White Shores dwelt with those bred within the lands of Middle Earth. Each division lending equally to the governing of Valinor.
Tuor took an immediate liking to the young Elf. He saw all that was good in him: his innocence and his keen mind. �What a comely combination that came from being nurtured in peace and love,� he thought. Not from the tumultuous times he tried to raise his own son in. At dinner their second night there, Tuor led Melpomaen to the terrace whereupon he smoked his pipe while sharing a glass of warmed brandy with the young Elf.
�So Master Melpomaen, tell me of your parents, I do remember them vaguely�after The Fall�� his words trailed off even as his eyes became lost in memories. Melpomaen gave him a few moments to his thoughts before speaking.
�My father became Chief Advisor to Lord Elrond, and along with my mother, they dwelled in Imladris after following Lord Elrond to the vale.� Tuor then looked at Melpomaen, now intent on his guest�s words.
�Lord Elrond is everything legend has made him and so much more, my lord. He is wise and kind and very brave. It was an honor to serve his house and to continue to do so in Valinor is quite humbling.� Tuor could not deny the sincerity in this Elf�s eyes nor in his words.
�Tell me of my grandsons. Did you know them well?�
�Aye my lord, I knew them well. Though older than I, they often showed interest in my education, and along with Lord Glorfindel, taught me the basics of weaponry.� Here Melpomaen laughed out loud. �Oh they were pranksters, often lending havoc to any they deemed worthy of their mischief! Lord Glorfindel among one of their favorite to taunt. I do believe it was because he was such a good sport about it. I remember the time they knocked on Lord Glorfindel�s office door and ran away quickly only for Lord Glorfindel to begin stamping out a smoldering pile of horse dung left before his threshold!� Tuor joined in Melpomaen�s laughter at the memory of his grandson�s antics.
Melpomaen suddenly became quiet. �What is wrong?� Asked Tuor in concern at the change in the young Elf�s mood.
�I was just remembering how hard they took their mother�s capture and the years they spent avenging her.� Here Melpomaen shook his head. �They were unstoppable. They would listen to no one and lived as Rangers until they sated their bloodlust. Elrond was near inconsolable until after they returned. He suffered so much�� He trailed off and glanced up into the closed eyes of Lord Tuor. �Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you any pain.� He whispered.
�Nonsense, pain is but a part of life. Sometimes it is the pain that makes us all that we are�. come�� Tuor gestured for Melpomaen to follow him inside.
Melpomaen faltered. �My lord, might I ask something of you?�
�Of course, ask.� Tuor waited.
�Do you know where Lord Ecthelion of the Fountain resides? Is he here in Valinor?�
Tuor nodded, �he lives but two houses over to the left of mine.�
�Thank you.� Melpomaen stated simply, offering no other information.
Tuor did not pry. �Come my young friend, you must regal the flaming manure

story to my wife��
***
Melpomaen had decided to utilize his time in Tirion to see to the task that his father had given him. The very next morning Melpomaen arose early and after a light breakfast, he bathed and dressed. Tucking the letter his father had given him into his pocket, he began the short walk to Lord Ecthelion�s house. While not as grand as Lady Idril and Lord Tuor�s own, this villa was quite appealing in its own right. A small courtyard led to the front door where upon Melpomaen rapped lightly on the door�s silver knocker, which was shaped like a shining star. A servant answered promptly. �Yes?�
�Is Lord Ecthelion at home? I have a message for him.� He felt suddenly nervous. This was the Elf that his father had loved�no�the Elf that his father still loved. He wondered what kind of Elf he would be? Would he be receptive of him?
�And whom shall I say is calling?� Asked the small Elf who led him into the entryway.
�My name is Melpomaen and I have a message from an old friend of his.� He watched as the house Elf walked down the hall and opened a door that led to a garden. He heard the sounds of exertion along with the clanging of metal. Surely he would be interrupting the lord�s morning routine. He suddenly became very nervous at the sound of abrupt silence. The house Elf came back down the hall and showed Melpomaen to the garden.
Upon entering the large grounds, Melpomaen was led to a smaller area that served as a training ground or exercise yard of sorts. There he saw an Elf turn to look at him in interest. This Elf had brown hair and a pleasant face; his very build screamed that of warrior. Then the Elf with the braided black hair turned around and smiled gently in interest at him. This Elf was surely Ecthelion, for he was beyond fair and his eyes were full of confusion.
�Lord Ecthelion?� Melpomaen inclined his head in greeting.
�Yes?� answered the dark-haired Elf, �Do I know you?� Ecthelion thought he looked familiar�like he should know that face.
�No, my lord, but I come on behalf of one with whom you were well acquainted.�
�Is that so?� Ecthelion was beyond curious now and came closer to stand before his visitor. He stood near a head taller than Melpomaen did. Ecthelion looked him over, �lovely,� he thought to himself. Eyes that were somehow recognizable stared back at him.
�Yes, I come on behalf of my father, Erestor of Imladris.�
For a few seconds Ecthelion did not react. He just stared at Melpomaen with blank eyes. Two things began to register with him: Father and Erestor. He stumbled back a step, then sat down upon the ledge near him, almost missing it. Torech was immediately by his side. �What is wrong?�
Ecthelion was visibly shaking now. �My lord, I have this letter from my father.�
�Who�who is your mother?� Came the shaky question.
�Her name is Lothwen, my lord.�
�Lothwen�.� Ecthelion whispered to himself. �You�you look like her, but you have your father�s eyes and mouth.�
�My lord?� Melpomaen again tried to hand the letter to him.
With shaking hands and so many questions he needed answered, he took the letter gingerly. Fear and anticipation welled within him. Torech went towards him but Ecthelion shook his head from side-to-side. �I have sudden need to be alone.� Melpomaen inclined his head and before he left Ecthelion called after him.
�Where may I call upon you if need be?�
�I am a guest at Lord Tuor�s house, my lord, though but for one day more. Then I shall leave to reside once again in New Imladris with the Lady Celebr�an. �
�Thank you.� Ecthelion nodded once and watched as Melpomaen left.
Torech once more moved towards him, but he held up his hand. �Please, I have need to be alone�now� if you would be so kind.� Ecthelion sighed with a trembling voice.
Though unhappy about Ecthelion�s sudden change in demeanor, Torech retreated into the house, though not without looking back a few times over his shoulder; a sudden worry wrinkling his brow.
When he was sure he was alone Ecthelion ran his finger over the fine script that sprawled his name. Holding the letter to his nose he inhaled deeply. The faintest scent of his long-lost lover gently infused his being. He let out a sudden gasp as memories of Erestor overwhelmed him. Ever careful, even with his shaking fingers, he broke the seal and opened the letter to reveal more of the recognizable script inside:

Dearest Ecthelion,
My heart cannot comprehend that you may be reading this letter. For so long

I have lived my life with the largest part of it missing: Your presence.
In all the years we have been parted, my love for you has never faltered.

I took none into my heart or my bed. Save for one act that begot me my

Beloved son, for whom I am blessed to have: I have tainted myself with no one.
Who could compare to what we have shared? You have my heart completely.

And if you so desire it still, I willingly give it to you once more upon reaching

The white shores of Aman. When my Lord�s tasks here on Middle Earth are

Fulfilled, we shall be together once more.
Forever Yours,

Erestor

Tears fell upon the parchment, the ink beginning to smear. Hastily Ecthelion patted the letter dry, swiped at his errant tears, and folded the parchment into his pocket. He suddenly fell to his knees in grief. His breathing ragged, he then whispered out loud, �Erestor, what shall I do?�

TBC�
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The Wrong Path