Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Scarred Fate	By : Massanie Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2051 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 50
- 51
- 52
CHAPTER 51: Consolation

CHAPTER NOTES

SCRIPTS:

'Thoughts'; ~visions~; **mind speech**; -l-Letters-l-

Erestor entered the healing wing, feeling exhausted and numb, and let the healers handle him, let them guide him to a soft bed with white linen sheets.

"Please disrobe, my lord." A healer bid him and he looked around.

Blond, why did all those elves here have to be blond? It was a rare colour for Imladris and it had made him feel better, safer. Thinking about it there had never been a dark haired elf who had directly or indirectly tried to really harm him. Even Faelon had only openly despised him for his quick promotion.

Eru, he did not want to have to disrobe in front of yet another blond, being stared at with *that* look once again. His arms twitched as he fought to keep them from drawing around him, he could not afford to show weakness; certainly not while that man was observing his every move.

Could he simply refuse?

The healer must have felt the other's discomfort as he patiently smiled at Erestor. "We need to see to your injuries, lord Erestor. In here you are my patient, nothing more, nothing less."

The healer's gaze was clinical but stubborn, which oddly reassured and troubled Erestor at the same time. This man had obviously no further interest in him than that of a healer, but that interest was strong and unyielding, it seemed. He was obviously set on having his way. For a moment Erestor contemplated his chances of refusal once again, but he felt so damn weary already.

And then, he thought, it was not as if that healer had any reason to see him as anything more than a patient. After all it was not as if anyone else besides Fiondil had ever wanted to claim *him*, not even his father, and Fiondil was insane and therefore didn't count.

That made him feel less nervous, but not any better.

Nodding curtly, the black haired ellon loosened the cord of his tunic – Thalion's tunic to be accurate – and pulled it over his head, revealing his scarred chest and abdomen.

"They have closed. Lord Elrond healed the internal damage." He murmured.

"May I?" The healer inquired, careful to not upset the already spooked advisor further, and waited for the hesitant nod before he proceeded to probe the half-healed wounds and scar tissue.

"Please inform me if you are in any pain."

Erestor observed the ellon tending to him, noting how his jaw clenched as the scars told him their story and Erestor knew that this one was familiar with such injuries, had seen his fill of battle wounds.

He had expected pity, but not that angered frown, that indignantly pursed lips, and somehow it left him shaken, though he knew not why. But then it was gone, and there was the observant, clinical healer again, a professional.

"It might be better not to bath but to wash only, so your cardiovascular system is not strained further. We do not want to risk a collapse." He had seen his patient sway on his feet, exhausted from their short walk through the stony halls and corridors.

"I will help you and after that I will apply an ointment to help heal the scars and keep them soft."

"I would prefer to do this myself." Erestor all but hissed, indignant at the notion of being thought too fragile for a task that simple.

Keeping his bearing calm and his voice clinical, the healer raised both eyebrows. "My lord, you simply lack the strength to ..."

"I do not!"

Sceptically the blonde looked him over. "You can hold your arms up for some time to wash your hair without exhausting yourself? I doubt that very much, you still suffer from severe blood loss. Now: are you in any pain? Do you need a pain reliever?"

Erestor would have proceeded with his protest had not Celairdúr entered the chamber in that very moment, grinning at the advisor that stood defiantly in front of his healer, once more refusing help at any cost.

"Just bring the water. I will help him. And if you bring me that ointment, I'll apply that, too. Would that be agreeable to you, tôr?" Thalion, his brother and their friends had always teased Erestor that the abbreviation of his name was also what he was to them: a brother.

A lopsided grin appeared on the darkling's pale face, his expression a mirror of the doubt and hope he was feeling now that one of his most trusted friends had come after him after the debacle earlier. "As long as I am that still ... your brother I mean."

"No power in Arda could change that."

The healer silently left to get what would be needed, leaving the two elves alone. Celairdúr approached Erestor quietly, pulling him into his arms. For long moments they stayed that way, relishing the brotherly closeness they had developed during the eight long months Erestor had spend under the protection of Thalion.

At least it seemed that Celairdúr had not abandoned him, even if everyone else had ... which lead to another question, a painful question, one that made him stiffen at once in the comfortable embrace.

"Why did no one tell me that a Maia was my father? You knew ... everyone knew! I could see it in their eyes! I have never felt that foolish, Celairdúr, so utterly foolish."

"You're angry." No judgment, no comfort, just a statement.

Erestor drew back in irritation.

"No, I'm confused! I was the only one there with the right to know yet I was the only one that had been left in the dark!" Erestor exclaimed tartly before he added defensively after a moment "Yes I ... I guess I am angry; and rightfully so!"

"*My patient* should rest!" The healer sternly reprimanded Celairdúr from behind them. He stepped into the room and set down a tray with food, some herbs and the ointment he had promised, three servants following him with hot water and wash utensils.

"Maybe it would be best if you left ..." the healer eyed Erestor's self-proclaimed brother warily.

"Let him stay, please." Celairdúr marvelled for a moment how Erestor could voice a plea like an irrefutable order.

"Would you be so kind as to leave us alone? I will not exhaust myself." He added as he saw that the experienced healer was about to protest.

At last the elder blonde nodded reluctantly and bade the servants to set their burden down before all four elves left the room.

Finally alone, Celairdúr grasped Erestor's shoulders and turned him around, a wistful smile playing on his lips. Then, with his deep soothing voice Celairdúr bid Erestor to bow over the washbasin, starting to wash his hair with gentle hands.

For long moments there was silence between them, as the blond allowed the younger elf to calm and relax under his touch and Erestor pursued his own thoughts."I missed you so much. With you and Thalion I have always felt safe."

"I take it this was not the case in Imladris?"

"I entangled myself hopelessly in half-lies, Celairdúr. I always feared they would overtake me one day or another."

Warm water poured over his head, washing away the fine soap.

"Correct me if I am wrong but Elrond seemed to be the kind of elf to me that had understood your reasons if you had but told him."

"I feared he wouldn't ... I ... I killed Dírhael."

The gentle touches stopped. "How can you say that?"

Immediately the bitter words stumbled out. "I suppressed my dreams ... I could have prevented the attack had I seen it beforehand. I killed four elves and had lady Celebrían tortured and almost killed!"

Almost harshly Celairdúr turned Erestor around to face him, not surprised at seeing fresh tear streaks running over the pale cheeks. "You're *not* responsible! Bad things happen, Erestor, and you cannot change them all! Elrond is a seer, Galadriel is a seer. Maybe the Lady of the Golden Wood should have whiled away the centuries in front of her mirror, never looking away! Maybe she could have changed it, too."

Erestor's voice was thick with tears as he replied in exasperation "Celairdúr, that's absurd!"

"Just as absurd as your self-accusations."

The darkling fell silent. Would there have been a way for the other known seers to increase the frequency of their visions? Was it their duty? He had never seen it that way, before. "Maybe you're right " Erestor admitted softly but obviously not convinced as his eyes glazed over with tears again.

"... but it matters not: I am a kinslayer because more than twenty elves were killed by the avalanche I caused and by those Orcs, following me into the trap *I* designed for them ... and the Imladrian soldiers dying to protect Elrond on the High Pass ... I am responsible for all their deaths ... "

For a moment, Celairdúr was rendered speechless as he watched Erestor bursting into tears, the small frame being shaken with violent sobs. Valar, he had never known the younger elf to be one for hysterics.

"Erestor stop!" he demanded harshly, staring at the younger elf with a stern expression.

"Even my father forsook me!"

"ERESTOR!" Celairdúr exclaimed angrily, the loud voice echoing from the rocky walls.

Shocked into silence, Erestor wrapped his arms around his waist and hung his head.

"Are you quite finished?"

With gentle fingers Celairdúr tilted Erestor's head up to look in those unnaturally dark silver-grey orbs.

"Will you promise to listen and not to interrupt until I'm done?"

"Yes." Came the soft, small whisper as a reply.

Celairdúr grasped both of Erestor's shoulders in a firm grip, willing the young elf to keep eye contact.

"No one blames you for their deaths, tôr, okay? What you did you did to save lives and everyone knows that.

They care for you: Galadriel immediately travelled to Imladris to save you when she saw what would happen; Elrond turned on the High Pass with Glorfindel to come here as swiftly as possible; Elladan and Elrohír directly risked their lives for you; and Gandalf ... I have never seen anyone in such a frightening, angry mood. I heard he threatened king Thranduil and directly ordered him to help him free his son. He would have attacked the camp all by himself if he had thought he had a chance to get you out alive."

The blond felt and saw how Erestor's breathing sped up and hitched as the darkling tried to calm his raging emotions, to stop the tears that once again threatened to spill.

"They care deeply for you, tôr. And every soldier that was out there that day was out there for *you* and not because they had been ordered to ... don't throw this away, tôr. You owe your life to them; do something good with it and by the Valar, stop your vapours!"

Celairdúr shook the slim shoulders once for good measure, letting his words sink, before he continued somewhat gentler.

"If you feel now that you have been betrayed because no one told you about Mithrandir being your father then know that they only sought to protect you. You were so utterly weak at first and I could see how it all taxed you ... don't you deny it!" he added as he felt Erestor stiffen beneath his hands.

"Mithrandir directly ordered us not to tell you because *he* wanted to do it and he wanted to do it the right way not in the open with you injured like that and in front of thirty nosy ellyn."

Erestor stayed quiet for awhile, letting the words sink. It was true, they had all risked their lives to save him and Celairdúr's explanation sounded reasonable well enough...

But he *had* killed those elves.

"You know what Thalion always said? There is no shame in falling, but in keeping lying on the ground. Many elves here would reach out to you, help you ... you've only got to let them."

Erestor raised one hand to Celairdúr's face to brush over his cheek. "I love you, brother. I am sorry for my hysterical fit." He tried to smile, knowing that he failed as he saw the blonde's compassionate gaze.

"Better?"

Looking down embarrassed, Erestor nodded weakly.

The sponge appeared in his field of vision along with a teasingly smiling Celairdúr. Wiggling his eyebrow suggestively he asked "Do you think you'll manage from here on or shall I continue?"

Snatching the sponge Erestor grumbled ill-humoured and finished washing while Celairdúr busied himself with his share of the bread and beef soup on the hour later Erestor had calmed considerably, now clean and replete and tucked away between soft linen bed sheets. Celairdúr had applied the healer's ointment on the largest of his scars and the old healer himself had bound them so he would not smear his clothes or the sheets before leaving them alone once more.

Celairdúr sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at the young black haired ellon he had come to think of as a brother.

"Before I forget: Do you think you'll be up to meet Gandalf? I'm afraid I left him waiting in front of your chambers more than two hours ago..."

Appalled, Erestor looked at the grinning ellon in front of him. "He is waiting out there for well over two hours? How could you, Celairdúr. He..."

"…deserves a little reprimand. Oh tôr! Don't look at me like that … So, will you let him enter now or shall we let him dangle for a while longer?"

"By all means, beg him in!"

The blonde bowed forward to place a soft kiss on Erestor's brow. "I'll come to check on you later then. Be good!"

Smiling at the nervously fidgeting advisor, Celairdúr left the room. Only moments later Mithrandir appeared in the open doorway, leaning on his crook; but he did not enter, merely awaiting some form of reaction from Erestor, letting him decide if he would meet the wizard.

Not quite ready to meet the Maia's eyes, Erestor pretended to concentrate on his balance while standing. If he had, he would have seen how weary and stricken Gandalf looked, almost frightened as if he feared to be rejected by his son; maybe an understandable worry considering Erestor's earlier detached reaction.

But Erestor himself was nervous at the upcoming confrontation: Mithrandir was an elvellon, an elf friend. Not only that, he was a Maia, a member of the White Council, a friend of the Great Eagles; damn it, he was a friend of Este, a *Valie*. It would not do to alienate someone like that, Elrond would surely not stand for it and Erestor's reputation was damaged enough by his humiliating performance during the last weeks.

Therefore, though he certainly did not need someone waltzing into his life, thinking they had the right to meddle, he was unable to simply ignore him, or tell him to mind his own business. He only hoped the old wizard had realistic expectations, otherwise he was not sure how to tell him off without causing a huge scandal - something he wanted to avoid at all cost.

He straightened his nightgown deliberately and finally met the wizard's eyes.

"Please, Mithrandir, forgive my lapse. I did not know you were waiting outside, Celairdúr must have forgotten to tell me."

Taking that as permission, Gandalf entered somewhat relieved.

"You seem much better."

Erestor almost cringed. Yes, he felt better, having been able to wash and eat and being enveloped in warm and foremost clean clothing … but the Maia – who was many times his elder and a being of so much renown - still stood in front of him in his dirty and ragged cloak, weary and probably hungry.

"I am, thank you. I am so sorry you had to wait. Please do not feel obliged to stay, we could reschedule our meeting until you have rested …"

That would also grant him some hours more to come to terms with his father's identity.

Unaware of his son's turmoil, a sad smile ghosted over Gandalf's face as he contemplated the words; this was only a meeting for his son, a formal meeting to be scheduled. "No, no. Just sit down Erestor."

The wizard pulled an arm chair near and sat down while Erestor settled down on the bed again.

Long, deafeningly silent moments stretched into minutes, only filled with unasked, poisoning questions.

"Forgive me." Gandalf whispered, his words being so much louder for having broken the silence that had enveloped them.

Erestor narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge the old wizard, the stranger claiming to be his father.

"Whatever for? I do understand why you didn't tell me."

Grey eyes, glistening with unshed tears, captured Erestor's dark ones.

"For not being there."

A taut silence spread between them again for some moments as Erestor looked away. Yes, that was the sore point, wasn't it? He could easily forgive the earlier incident, that he hadn't been told his father's identity, especially with Celairdúr's explanation; that didn't mean that he could forget that Gandalf had simply and utterly *failed* in his duties as a father up to now.

"And why weren't you there? Why did you leave my mother?" Yes, there was bitterness in that question, rooting in all the deep emotional wounds his family had caused him and that he could have been spared from.

"I wanted to come back …"

Erestor narrowed his eyes dangerously. He should have known that Gandalf was too involved with the fate of the whole of Middle Earth to really care about a single individual, or to take responsibility for the consequences of his ... escapades.

"You left her pregnant!"

"I did not know!" Mithrandir cried out, pleading his son to understand. He was encouraged as he saw Erestor shutting his mouth and drawing back, mirroring his behaviour from earlier, when Thranduil had let it slip that Mithrandir was his father. It seemed the advisor was honestly shocked; that must mean he believed him.

"I did not know." He repeated calmer. "I loved your mother dearly for she was a gentle soul and compassionate and … I have never seen the light of Eru shining so bright without burning … like it did with Feanor."

He paused, looking at the black haired ellon sitting on the bed before him, pale and frail like porcelain. "Just like you but unrestrained by grief and shadow."

"There is a reason for that!" Erestor exclaimed angrily, not really knowing why. None of the elves that looked upon him understood! All they saw was a depressed ellon that was somehow different from them and their sudden compassion poisoned him just like their earlier dislike had. He did not need that.

"I know. I will never forgive myself for I could have spared you that."

Gandalf turned his gaze to the wrinkled hands on his lap, suddenly thinking that he would have recognized Erestor as his son much earlier would he not have shed the appearance of the black haired ellon in favour of the illusion of the old man he was now.

"I wanted to bring her to Imladris but I had some things to take care of first. In retrospect none of that was important enough to explain why I left her alone for three years more. And when I came back Brandon told me that Lalaith had drowned in the Enchanted River."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath Gandalf looked up. "I did not know that she had given birth to you and I only came to know of your existence when I read your letter to Lindir, where you mentioned Lalaith.

I was devastated … Lalaith was the only one I have ever loved and I did not question her brother's motives."

Erestor felt his throat contract. He had never met his mother and though he had often wished to have known her, he had never really *suffered* from the loss. For Gandalf, who had known her and obviously loved her deeply, it must have been painful. He felt his conscience making itself known as he thought about the accusations he had thrown at the wizard.

"I am sorry." He whispered awkwardly, for a loss of better words, wishing he had more skill in comforting someone.

"I ventured to Mithlond then and would Círdan not have convinced me otherwise, I would have left for Aman to find my love again in Mandos' halls."

"I am sorry for your loss, Mithrandir." Erestor murmured gently again, helplessly staring at the folded hands in his lap. And he had thought him fickle.

"You truly are your mother's son. Only ever giving, never taking. But it was your loss also, child."

Reaching forward Gandalf took one of the slender hands in his wrinkled ones, heartened that Erestor was not pulling back.

"Forgive me for doing nothing to uncover Brandon's lies and leaving you behind in his keep."

For a moment Erestor was inclined to tell his father that he needn't explain nor beg his forgiveness but seeing the grey eyes he knew that this was a lie; at least Gandalf needed to do this.

"You are forgiven." He whispered, grimacing slightly as he saw the gratitude lighting Gandalf's face. Valar, now it would be so much harder to keep the old wizard at a comfortable distance. Half an hour later Gandalf left with a bittersweet feeling. Erestor seemed willing to give his father the chance to be a part of his life, or at least he wasn't pushing him away, but he grieved for the damage done to his son. A shadow had darkened the young one's soul and he hoped that it could be lifted. "Elbereth, help my son!"

CHAPTER END NOTES

ellon ~ male elf

ellyn ~ male elves

tôr ~ brother

elvellon ~ elf friend
- 50
- 51
- 52
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Scarred Fate