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Scarred Fate	By : Massanie Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2052 -:- 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
- 51
- 52
- 53
CHAPTER 52: Awakening

CHAPTER NOTES

SCRIPTS:

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

Orange.

Through closed eyes he saw the sun that shone brightly onto his face and his mouth curved into a gentle smile. Grass brushed his cheek and he could smell its earthy but fresh odour.

OPEN YOUR EYES, CHILD

The voice was so full of warmth, so affectionate and it seemed to suffuse his whole mind and body, more a *presence* in his mind than a voice in is ears, rather like the farspeech Galadriel and Elrond were capable of, but at the same time so much *more*; it put him at ease and he obeyed to look into blue skies, only sparsely streaked by feathery clouds, and the beautiful face of a brunet elleth. He frowned for a moment as something struck him as odd, but he could not place it.

Tilting his head he looked closer, seeing a depth in the compassionate amber eyes that spoke of more wisdom than any elf could possess, of knowledge far beyond that of Illúvatar's children. Startled he sat up.

"You are a Vala!"

Sweet laughter answered his exclamation but he stood nervously and suddenly uncomfortable. Averting his eyes he bowed to the now solemn being in front of him, not daring to unbend again.

RISE, ERESTOR!

With a thundering heart the black haired ellon looked up but kept a bent position. Erestor was terrified, not knowing what the Valie in front of him wanted, nor did he know which one he was talking to. Why had they brought him here into Lord Lóriën's garden - for he guessed that this was where he was - he was a kinslayer after all.

DEAR CHILD, PLEASE RISE.

The Valie tilted his head up with gentle fingers and slowly Erestor straightened. Immediately he found his gaze caught by the twinkling amber eyes before him. He found it impossible to break the eye contact, but it calmed him. He felt the peace of the beautiful garden seep into him and slowly he relaxed, wondering briefly if he was being enchanted. He couldn't bring himself to care.

For some timeless moments the past weeks' happenings seemed to drift into the distance and he felt so detached from it all, as if they had nothing to do with him. Only belatedly he remembered his own part in it, his own grave mistakes.

"Forgive me, my lady."

FOR WHAT? FOR BEING SUCH A STUBBORN KNOW-ALL, IGNORING EVERY ATTEMPT OF HELP? OR FOR CAUSING THE GREATEST CHAOS IN THE YOUNGER HISTORY OF MIDDLE EARTH, PERHAPS?

Blushing furiously Erestor lowered his gaze once again. What was he to answer to that anyway? 'For everything' stroke the core, he guessed.

I UNDERSTAND, ERESTOR. YOU DO NOT NEED TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

Taking heart, Erestor encountered her gaze. "My lady Este?"

WHY DO YOU THINK I AM ESTE?

"We are in your husband's gardens."

BUT NIENNA IS SISTER TO IRMO.

"But you are a friend of Olórin. I am a kinslayer, my lady. No other but a friend of my father would have reason to welcome me with such kindness." Bitterly he looked down again.

AH, AND THERE IS THE CORE PROBLEM.

YES, I AM ESTE; BUT NOW I SEE THAT IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN BETTER HAD I BEEN NIENNA: YOUR WOUNDS ARE DEEP.

Erestor frowned; apparently Este had not only taught Mithrandir compassion but also how to avoid specific statements and to speak in riddles – or had it been the other way round?

The beautiful Valie tilted her head, smiling down at the smaller ellon. Slowly she drew her white arms around him, pulling him close before she began to whisper words of comfort and consolation against his black tresses.

YES, WE DO NOT NORMALLY MEDDLE INTO THE AFFAIRS OF THE ELVES IN MIDDLE EARTH. BUT YOU ARE THE SON OF A VERY DEAR FRIEND.

LISTEN CLOSELY, CHILD: YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO SAVE THOSE IMLADRIAN ELVES, ERESTOR; MY GOOD BROTHER'S WIFE HAD LONG WOVEN THEIR DEMISE IN HER TAPESTRIES. IT WAS MEANT TO HAPPEN. NO ACTION OF YOURS WOULD HAVE CHANGED THAT. AND THE OTHER FIRSTBORN AND SECONDBORN THAT WERE KILLED BROUGHT THEIR FATE UPON THEMSELVES.

Gently Este released the ellon from her embrace and took his head between her hands to look into those impossibly dark eyes.

THE FIRSTBORN ARE SAFE HERE IN MY GOOD BROTHER'S HALLS AND WE WILL HELP THEM UNDERSTAND THEIR WRONGS AND THEY WILL HEAL – SOMETHING THAT WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE IN MIDDLE EARTH. AND SOME DAY THEY MIGHT WALK ON THE SHORES OF ARDA ONCE AGAIN.

NO FAULT LIES WITH YOU! DO NOT LET YOURSELF BE WEIGHTED DOWN ANY LONGER AND LIVE, LIKE YOU WERE MEANT TO BE.

Hope filled eyes locked with the bottomless wells of wisdom and compassion. "I am acquitted, then?"

DEAR CHILD! YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN CHARGED!

With a last gentle smile the Valie released his face and stepped back, her face becoming serious. A change that was lost on Erestor, who had his eyes closed, trying to keep the swirl of joyous emotions in check that threatened to reduce him to tears in front of Este.

YOU HAVE TO AWAKE NOW, ERESTOR.

Questioningly, Erestor looked up, something in the Valie's voice alarmed him. "My lady?"

THERE IS SOMEONE IN YOUR ROOM, ERESTOR. YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP AND SCREAM FOR THE GUARDS.

With a sudden start Erestor sat up in his bed and looked around hastily, frantically, searching the small room with the stony, naked walls, sparsely furnished; but no one else was there with him, he was alone in one of the many small chambers in king Thranduil's healing wing.

'What a mad dream!' he thought not really convinced, his heart still hammering in his chest; it had all felt so real. "Hello?" he whispered, not quite able to get rid of the feeling that he was indeed not alone. But there was no answer, no sound. "Just a dream, Erestor." Yet speaking the words did nothing to make him believe them.

Looking around one more time, Erestor forced himself to lie back down, fighting to close his eyes and calm down again, but apprehensively he continued to gaze ahead, listening for the softest noise. His elven senses were still dulled, he knew that; but were they dulled enough so that he would not notice an attacker close by? Had it been a dream, or a vision?

In a way he didn't want it to be a dream, needing the knowledge that he indeed had been forgiven, but if it had been real, then it meant that he was in serious danger.

He drew in one trembling breath after another, as he imagined hearing a soft rustle of clothing. 'Get a grip, Erestor, you are alone!'

Feeling vulnerably exposed the way he was lying on the bed the young advisor carefully pushed the bedcover back and stood as silently as he was able to. Even though he told himself that he was being unreasonable and childish he knew he would not get any rest before he had assured himself that he was indeed alone and safe.

With a slightly shivering hand that made him frown angrily at himself, Erestor straightened his nightgown and tiptoed to the wooden door. He knew that there were always lights burning in the hallways and by now he was so nervous that he felt almost desperate to let some light fall into the dark room.

He approached the thin line of light that shone in from the threshold and reached almost blindly for the doorknob. As his fingers felt out the polished metal, he hesitated, a wave of dread washing over him. And then he screamed in the sudden knowledge of not being alone.

Immediately a hand over his mouth silenced him and he was hauled into the air. Erestor's hands grasped the strong arm surrounding his waist, trying to dislodge it as he was thrust back in time, to when Annael had held him in a similar position, dragged him away from the safety that Glorfindel's presence had promised, into the nightmare that was the spider infested Mirkwood.

'Not again!'

And then he was thrown onto the floor, his fall accelerated by the amazing strength of those cruel arms. With a horrible thud his back impacted with the stones and all remaining air was forcibly pushed out of his lungs. Helplessly Erestor gasped for breath, looking at the masked, oppressive figure towering over him with wide, terrified eyes.

Then the men was on him, taking his chin in a cruel grip, the gloved fingers pressing into his cheeks, forcing his jaw open painfully.

Erestor groaned whimpered, his hands closing around the arm that kept his head in place. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he tried to dislodge the fist around his jaw. Something glistened in the darkness above him – the shimmering glass of a crystalline bottle. With a fluid movement his attacker raised the bottle to his own lips, tearing the cork out with a quiet pop.

'Oh, Elbereth, no!' Erestor begged in his thoughts, his struggle gaining the force of desperation. Violently he managed to jerk his head away and screamed out once more.

A moment later the large oaken door flew open and banged against the stone wall, the sound echoing through the hall; and suddenly Erestor was free, scrambling backwards. Wide eyed he watched as a guard stood in the doorframe, his massive form a dark shadow against the pale light of the torches, one hand clasping a long knife, ready to attack.

Crying out in rage, the soldier strode into the room, charging at the lord advisor's attacker with cold fury. Behind him, more darkness veiled figures streamed into the corridor and into the room.

The assassin looked back for a moment, caught Erestor's gaze. With a terrified gasp the dark advisor watched as the light in those eyes dimmed, flickered and finally was extinguished before the guards had a chance to reach him. They halted in their movements, swords still drawn, as the veiled man sank down to his knees, a small knife protruding from his chest.

Tears streaming down his pale face, Erestor tried to stand on wobbling feet. "Sweet Elbereth!" he whispered, ignoring the hands of various healers that tried to steady him.

He needed to get out, out of here. Away from the dead body of the man that had surely tried to poison him.

"Este." He whispered, feeling his way along the comfortingly cool stone wall to the door. The lady had been right. His legs felt like jelly.

Hands grasped him tightly. "Don't strain yourself, my lord. Are you injured?"

"Let go! I need to get out of here! I can't breathe..."

He needed fresh air, away from the darkness and narrowness of these halls. But the hands wouldn't let him, they took his arms, steering him from the chamber into the hallway.

"You, my lord, need to lie down."

It was the same healer that had tended to him the evening before, he noticed, recognizing the calm, soothing, yet assertive voice. Still trembling, he focused his eyes on the blonde healer, trying to let the other's calmness seep into his own shaken mind. His jaw hurt terribly from the iron grip of his assailant and his back fared no better, forcing his breathing into agitated gasps.

"He wanted to poison me." Erestor exclaimed somewhat confused, still looking into the clear green eyes.

The healer nodded, though he did not seem to listen carefully to his words and moments later he found himself pressed down to sit on a feathery soft mattress. "Did he make you drink something?"

"No, but ... he ... killed himself!" It seemed so incomprehensible to him, such a waste of immortal life.

The healer turned for a moment to speak with a younger assistant, before he turned again to the black haired advisor. "Are you injured, my lord?"

Erestor took a moment before he answered, honestly contemplating the question, while the assistant ushered the other healers out of the room. "He threw me down. On my back." Why had he done that? "Did not use his knife on me, but ..." He didn't understand. Why not use the knife, why trying to poison him when he noticed the attacker? Even if the poison proved to be undetectable, his body would have shown the clear signs of the attack. Everyone who cared to look would have known instantly.

"Are you injured, my lord?" The healer repeated patiently, interrupting his patient's scurrying thoughts.

"No injuries! Leave me alone!" Erestor murmured, suddenly feeling tired as the shock wore off. He would sport some nasty bruises soon on his stiff back, but otherwise he was fine. He certainly felt so as his breathing returned to normal again.

"Would you let me remove that nightgown to see for myself?" The healer asked with a slight frown, though his voice was smooth, professional.

"I'd rather not. And I assure you that I am uninjured."

He would not undress at any rate to let the healer press his fingers onto freshly forming bruises.

The healer merely pursed his lips indignantly. Would they have this discussion every time now while he had to tend to the chief advisor?

"Lord Elrond will surely examine you himself, if you'd rather have a familiar person do it."

Erestor's head whipped around to see the smug half-smile on the healer's handsome face and clenched his teeth in frustration. But the threat of Elrond tending to him once again had him comply wordlessly. It had pushed him to the limits of his endurance to have the Half-Elf's hands on his body in front of everyone else and keep him from embarrassing himself. All the worse because he knew that it was only a healer's interest for his lord, nothing more.

Hesitantly he pushed himself up from the mattress and started to pull the nightgown over his head, wincing as he strained his already stiffening muscles. Immediately the healer was at his side to assist him and had him lay face down on the bed.

For some moments Erestor followed the noises of the healer rummaging through the cupboards, his mind again wandering to the corpse in the room adjacent to his. Why had this ellon been as desperate as to kill himself rather than be caught and trialled for it? He did not know what Thranduil would hand out as punishment, but surely it would not be worse than death?

But then Erestor hesitated. He himself had thought death better than a future at Fiondil's side, still thought it. Was it better to flee to lord Námo's halls rather than being outcast, wandering the rough, withering landscape of Middle Earth alone, between mortals, dying a little bit with every passing day in a dying world? There was no need to answer that question.

He was startled from his dark musings as cool ointment drizzled onto his back and was gently massaged into his skin. "It will ease the bruising." Came the softly spoken comment.

Erestor felt himself drifting away as his muscles relaxed beneath the skilful hands and sighed. Maybe he should just ask Elrond and Thranduil to send them west, where the Valar would either reject them or take them in. Had that not been Este's advice as well? To let the Valar deal with the culprits and make them see, make them understand their wrongs?

It would be good not to have to deal with them any longer. Just returning to Imladris, to his familiar life, to Lindir. Yes, to Lindir, his most loyal friend. The minstrel had saved his life by handing the letters to Glorfindel. A small smile lit his face as he thought about that twist of fate.

In the back of his mind Erestor registered the door opening with a low creak, followed by soft footsteps.

"How is he? Was he injured?" he heard Elrond's low voice whisper.

He tensed, suddenly very aware of his half naked state. "I am awake, my lord." He murmured hurriedly. "It's nothing but some bruises."

A third hand, cool and so very gentle, was laid just below his shoulder blades and he felt a warm, tingling sensation spread from the slim fingers into his abused flesh. The other healer retreated a few steps.

"You need not exhaust your healing powers, my lord. I am fine, really."

The fingers remained on his skin and he felt glad that his face was turned away from the two healers, hiding his dark blush.

"This is hardly exhausting for me, Erestor."

The advisor laid still and silent at that. He heard the Silvan healer leave the room and for some minutes his whole existence focused on the soothing touch of his lord's hand until Elrond's voice once again shook him from his stupor. "What happened?"

Erestor released a trembling breath. He did not want to speak about all of this now; especially not while the feathery touch of his lord's hand ghosted over his naked back, unsettling him in a way he had never known before. Dangerous and ... exciting.

"I was attacked. I thought it was rather obvious." He snapped.

Elrond raised a delicate eyebrow at his advisor. "I know. But do you know how he entered, who he was? He might have accomplices."

"I am sorry, my lord." Since his captivity he found his self-control alarmingly lacking, all his feelings written in his face for all to see, and showing in his actions. How he yearned for some re-establishment of normality, of sanity to his life.

"When I woke, there was someone in my room. He attacked me and tried to poison me, but the guards and healers arrived before he could. Neither do I know how he got in, nor why he did it, nor who he is."

Erestor felt the fingers retreat, leaving a hollow feeling behind and he tried to swallow the lump of emotions that were trying to choke him. He sat up, surprised at the absence of any pain and looked for a short moment at the compassionate face of his lord. Then he lowered his gaze again, unable to meet the grey, wise eyes for long. They always seemed to stare right into his soul, unveiling whatever hid there.

"Can we not return to Imladris, my lord?"

He felt the mattress dip down as Elrond sat close to him with a sigh. "I am sorry that you were attacked, Erestor. But I assure you that guards have been stationed in front of your chambers. It will not happen again, you are safe."

Frustrated, Erestor wrung his hands. That was not what he meant. "I don't wish to stay for the trial, my lord."

A reassuring hand squeezed his shoulder slightly. "It must be done, Erestor, such deeds cannot go unpunished."

Both remembered the time Elrond had said that very sentence before, the day he had first met Erestor; when he had first heard of the abuse the young ellon had suffered at the hands of his previously unknown family. Erestor bit his lips, still feeling the sting of the half-lies he had told then.

"I don't want them to be cast out; I don't want them to die. If you demand it of me, I will tell you exactly what happened, ..." or at least a rough outline of the major events, "... but I do not want to be the cause for their demise."

Finally understanding, Elrond drew a deep breath. For a moment he had thought that Erestor was simply too scared to face his uncle once more, afraid what he could do to him even though he was now in custody. That Erestor merely did not want blood on his hands pleased him, as it meant that the elf would not bear mental scares away that were too severe to heal. An empathic being still after all that he had experienced.

"Erestor, Brandon did not only attack you, but also me and my sons. Elladan and Elrohír could have died ... I would indulge your wish, if I could. But attacking the ruling family of Imladris made it high treason! Elves died because of him. He needs to be punished if only to make a public example."

Curtly Erestor nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Your father, Glorfindel and king Thranduil are waiting outside. I told them I would see how you fared, first." Closely Elrond looked into his advisor's eyes, searching for signs of discomfort or weariness, finding both haunting the silver eyes. It would take a long time until Erestor would feel comfortable in the presence of others now that everyone knew of his past.

"I will tell them you fell asleep, then."

Surprised, Erestor looked up as his lord stood and turned to leave with a small smile.

"Sleep, Erestor." The velvety voice murmured, before Elrond left with the creaking sound of the oaken door.

CHAPTER END NOTES

elleth ~ female elf

ellon ~ male elf
- 51
- 52
- 53
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Scarred Fate