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Cold
By : Cheysuli
Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male
Views: 3182 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: 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. - Chapter List
A/N: When I started this, I had a pretty good idea what I wanted this fic to be about. My idea has now changed slightly so those of you who knew where I was going with this, you'll hopefully be surprised.
______________________________________
Chapter 3
Glorfindel stood in the middle of the room, staring vacantly at the destruction that surrounded him. He had come here after taking Elladan to the healer's to be treated for shock, hesitating only for a moment at the door that led to where he could hear Elrond working on Erestor. He wanted to see how Erestor was doing, how badly he was hurt, but realized he would only be in the way.
Which led him here.
Glorfindel took a deep breath and focused on the remains of Erestor's rooms. He had never been here; Erestor highly valued his privacy. If he ignored all the... blood, it looked to be a beautiful place to live. 'I would have thought it to be dark here, given how he dresses,' he thought, studying the various shades of greens throughout the room. 'It's like forest and sunlight. And blood,' he realized, finding his gaze once again drawn to the pool of blood on the floor. And walls...
Elladan was right; there was blood everywhere. 'He tried to run,' Glorfindel thought, studying the blood smears. 'He fell here, crawled towards... no away from the door.'
Glorfindel frowned, kneeling to get a closer look at a pculacular stain. 'Why go away from the door? Why not go for help?' Glorfindel shook his head, standing and turning towards an overturned chair. 'He fell into the chair,' he thought, moving closer. 'No, he was thrown. This is like the chair I have in my rooms; it's much too heavy to fall from someone simply stumbling into it.'
Glorfindel leaned to the side, placing his hand on the floor and wincing as he came into contact with something thick and wet. 'More blood.' He sighed, glancing down to find his hand resting in a small smear of blood and hair. 'He hit his head,' he realized, looking back at the chair and noticing more blood and hair on one of the legs.
Still studying the chair, he failed to notice the door opening and the sound of someone making their way carefully through the room. He started to lean closer to the floor, noticing something trapped just under the chair, when a large hand landed on his shoulder and turned him roughly around.
Glorfindel paled slightly and silently wished he hadn't come here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elrohir sighed, dipping his washcloth in the bowl of red tinged water before continuing his task of cleansing Erestor's long hair of dried blood. He had felt so useless before, so far out of his depth as he watch the more experienced healers rush to Ere Erestor's life. At least now he was doing something, even something as unimportant as washing hair.
Elladan didn't have that luxury. The elder twin was sedated and resting in the other healing room, the one for those with less serious injuries. Elladan had never been able to stomach the dark red of Elven blood. A fact that Elrohir would usually tease him about, but he could find nothing amusing in this situation.
Elrohir gently pushed a lock of Erestor’s hair out of the unconscious elf’s eyes and gazed sadly at the pale face. Erestor looked so peaceful, so young, in his relaxed state and Elrohir briefly wonder exactly how old he was. Erestor didn’t look much older than he and Elladan at the moment, though he knew the elder elf couldn’t be that young.
He shook his head, dismissing the pointless thoughts and turned to re-soak his cloth. He paused, staring in shock at the bowl and quickly dropped the washcloth onto the floor. “Ada!” he shouted, watching as black tendrils swirled amongst the red of the water.
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