A new picture.

Title: A new picture.
Author: Fishy (fishyz9@yahoo.com)
Beta: Kei.
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor.
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Glorfindel’s walk proves to be missing something, Erestor needs something beautiful to look at.
Notes: This is just weird but…..well, I wrote it *shrugs*

At times sleep would evade him. It was no great burden, there were simply nights when his body was restless and so very far from weary. During the summer, the air was warm and hazy, gorgeous in its poignant scents of the oaks and budding blooms that surrounded their home. At those times he would pad the quiet halls bare footed, wearing the most informal of breezy clothing, much as he had as a child so very long ago in his own halls.

In the winter the air was fresh and cool, misting as you breathed, sharp in the throat and invigorating as it cut through the body and senses like a transparent blade. He would treasure the feel of wrapping warm furs around him, a warmth that radiated from within as he realised in those precious times that he was content. The world was not safe, yet hope was infallible; content. Frost covered grounds, yet summer bloomed in his heart; content. Nothing was certain, but he was happy and again, above all, content.

Imladris was in the midst of winter, so it was that he walked the halls not bare footed and hair loose, but wrapped warmly in his favourite heavy cloak, which was lined with the softest of furs. After treading quietly down what seemed to be every hall of the house, he came to the final stop on what had become his regular route, an open balcony, looking out upon a peaceful and slumbering Imladris. A smile crept into the corners of his mouth as he looked over the tree tops to the waterfalls in the distance. So perfect, so very perfect in its stillness and beauty.

Now usually after coming to stand in his most favourite of all places he would feel ready to retire, but he frowned as this time it was not so. Always he had walked with an amiable restlessness, in a manner that was easy to sustain and afforded him a keener eye and longer breath to appreciate all that he had around him. He had thought this time special, something only for himself, and never craved a diversion or an upset in his nightly walks. But tonight, he felt almost…impatient. The waterfalls were as beautiful as they had always been, and the tree tops just as high and homely, but this night his serenity felt as though it had been intruded upon.

More? There was more than walking by the rooms of young Elladan and Elrohir? Listening to their soft, sweet breaths, and knowing that the innocent walked in pleasant dreams? There was more than walking through the empty kitchens, which were usually so busy during the day that at night it seemed as if he mischievously trod somewhere he ought not to be? The remnants of warm bread, still wafting through the air as he made his way the library. Was there more than the library, which seemed so much larger without the light of even a single candle? That seemed older and, in a strange way, reassuring in its order and formality, yet, in the dead of night, was great and kingly in its high stature and dark shadows. There was more than that? More than his walk, more than his home, his balcony and favourite view?

Evidently.

It was more than an odd nagging now. He turned with a frown and looked around as though he could find whatever it was his mind was telling him to search for. Intuition leading him, he headed towards nowhere in particular, and down a hall he had already travelled, positive that he had missed something.

Now this was a strange thing. The gallery; he felt compelled to walk the gallery. In truth it was merely another hall, but this one, this one held painting after painting along its walls, and had thusly come affectionately to be so named. He headed towards that hall and knew with a certainty that he had not been alone during his nightly walks when he heard something, someone not far away.

Uncertainly, and with what felt an almost ridiculous coyness, Glorfindel looked around the corner. He knew this elf, it was Erestor. He frowned as he watched the advisor mutter, shake his hands and quickly walk from one painting to another, only to seemingly become even more upset and turn to yet another painting with an almost anguished expression.

“Oh, oh dear,” he was rambling. “No, please, just something, anything, please…”

“Erestor?” Glorfindel called gently as he moved into view.

But Erestor did not see, not until he turned and bumped into Glorfindel’s far larger frame.

Glorfindel was even more surprised upon seeing the dampness of Erestor’s cheeks, the glassiness of his eyes. Erestor was truly distressed.

“Erestor, what is wrong?”

Agitated, Erestor sidestepped Glorfindel as if he were a piece of furniture.

“My favourite one, it must work…”

“Erestor, wait, what…”

Glorfindel watched, quietly and sadly, as he saw Erestor finally go and stand before one painting in particular and fall silent. His shoulders slumped and, unnervingly, the sound of soft sobbing now filled the hall.

He did not know Erestor at all well. He knew of him, of course, he had even, on occasion, spoken with him, but he had never seen anything such as this, nor would he ever have imagined that he would see Erestor thus. He looked small, small and helpless. He stood clad in nothing but a light sleeping gown that reached only down to his calves. It was white and thin, loose, with long sleeves that covered his hands. His hair, which was incredibly mussed, reached almost to his waist and swayed slightly as his shoulders moved with his small and pitiful hiccups. Glorfindel had never felt so shocked or inappropriately intrigued, nor so saddened or moved as he now was by such tragic and gentle beauty.

He placed a hand upon one of those trembling shoulders and frowned as his fingers touched a small patch of bare skin, unveiled by the gaping neckline. Erestor’s skin was cool to the touch, and he suddenly felt like a giant as he stood, wrapped in his warmth, next to this smaller and more delicate creature who shivered in the cold night air. He immediately sprung into action and pulled his thick cloak from his shoulders to place about Erestor’s. The big cloak drowned him, but the action finally gained Erestor’s attention. He looked up at Glorfindel then, his large eyes fearful and wet

“Glorfindel, it isn’t working,” he whispered.

“What, what is not working?” Glorfindel asked softly, and ever so gently pulled Erestor’s long, dark hair from beneath the cloak and let it fall once again down his narrow back.

“The paintings, they….they always make me feel better, but…I still feel…”

“What?” Glorfindel asked as Erestor stared back at the painting before him. “What do you feel?”

Erestor reached out and let his forefinger follow the sharp edges of the frame.

“Lonely,” he whispered.

“You are lonely?” Which seemed a most absurd thing to say, to repeat, while seeing Erestor standing thusly before him.

“I take walks at night, Glorfindel.”

“You do? ‘Tis a wonder we have not crossed paths.”

“I only come here, to the paintings.”

“Why?”

“Because, when I look at these,” he began as he continued to follow the sharp edges of the frame, “…I feel better. When I am reminded that such precious and beautiful things exist, I feel calm. And then I do not feel so….so alone. Within these frames, these four corners…” he explained as he shakily reached out with both hands to touch the frame, the cloak slipping from his shoulders but caught and held in place by Glorfindel, “…I feel better knowing that it…it’s alright that I am alone, because….well look…” He gently touched the painting as if in explanation. “But tonight…” His voice cracked and he drew his hands away. “…tonight I woke up feeling…empty, and I knew that if I were to just see something beautiful, something wonderful, all would be well. But… not even these paintings, not even these straight lines and secure corners bring me peace. Nothing! I feel nothing. These paintings are stale to me!”

Glorfindel was shocked to say the least when his arms were suddenly filled with a slim figure that shook in his grasp. Instinctively he made small shushing sounds, in an attempt to calm and soothe Erestor.

“Well, well you just need something new to look at. The river, the bridges. I know, there’s a balcony that is...”

“No!” Erestor shook his head against the broad chest as he continued to cling to the bewildered warrior. “It’s too….too big, too much.”

“Alright, shh, alright,” Glorfindel murmured softly as he rubbed his hand up and down the slim back. “Ah…I ahm, oh, oh I have a… Erestor, will you come with me?”

Large wet eyes looked up at him, and he hesitantly lifted one of his hands, which now felt monstrously oversized, and gently wiped at an inexplicably soft cheek. “Come with me, I will give you a new picture to look at,” he said softly.

“But...”

“Shh, I’ll make it better. Come with me."

Putting a careful arm around Erestor, he guided him through the empty hallways, a hand gently cupping his elbow, the other holding his trembling hand. He smiled as his cloak dragged along the floor behind Erestor, creating a rustling sound that echoed through the silent hall.

“Glorfindel, where are we going?” Erestor asked worriedly.

“You’ll see.”

When they approached Glorfindel’s destination, his favourite balcony, Erestor began to pull away.

“Glorfindel, no, it’s too much. I told you, I can’t….”

“Shh now, just close your eyes for me, it will all be better soon,” Glorfindel said, and his hand gently covered Erestor’s eyes. He only took it away and stepped back when he was certain that they were, indeed, closed.

“Now wait here, do not open your eyes.” he said, moving away to find what he needed, leaving Erestor standing with eyes closed, waiting

When he returned, he took a moment to look at Erestor. He was beautiful. He stood there alone on the balcony, silhouetted in the moonlight, his eyes tightly closed and with the warrior’s cloak pulled tightly around him. Suddenly, the restlessness Glorfindel had experienced earlier, the nagging feeling that his balcony felt somehow incomplete, left him. With Erestor standing there, enveloped in his cloak, all was perfect. Erestor frowned as he heard Glorfindel huff, followed by a few other odd noises, but he kept his eyes shut.

“Alright, Erestor, open your eyes.”

Erestor did as he was bidden, blinked, and smiled. He looked down the hallway from which direction the odd noises had come, and noted the discarded painting that had been lifted down from the wall. He looked back to where Glorfindel stood, holding up the empty frame before him, and felt comforted. There was a new picture before him, a picture of his home, absolutely beautiful and framed securely between those four points that Glorfindel held in place for him. He sank to his knees, and crossed his legs beneath him as he pulled the cloak closer around him.

“Thank you, thank you,” he whispered shakily, wiping at his eyes even as he smiled.

Glorfindel smiled, but though his strength was great, the frame was very large and heavy, and he found that the effort of holding it up and to the side for Erestor soon caused it to begin to shake in his grasp. “Glorfindel, sit with me?”

Glorfindel looked around him, searching for something that would hold the frame suspended. Suddenly an idea came to him.

“Erestor, would you close your eyes for me again, just for a moment?”

Erestor nodded and closed his eyes, his lips still smiling.

Once again Glorfindel momentarily disappeared, again Erestor frowned, but smiled also as he listened to odd, scraping noises.

“Alright,” a rather out of breath voice said. “You can look.”

When Erestor once more opened his eyes, he laughed. Glorfindel had retrieved a trunk and what seemed a very small chest of drawers and had propped the large frame between. From his seated position he could look upon the valley perfectly. He turned his head to look when Glorfindel came to coyly sit cross-legged beside him.

“Stay warm with me,” the advisor said, drawing back the cloak from his form and holding out an arm. Glorfindel readily moved closer and was both surprised and delighted as Erestor set himself in his lap, wrapping the cloak about them both. He held him around the waist, while Erestor wrapped his arms around the warrior’s shoulders and rested his head against Glorfindel’s.

Perfect. There was no longer any disturbance nor anything amiss on his usual path. Glorfindel’s balcony was once again perfect, only more so. And Erestor had his new picture that would never, in thousands of years to come, fail him.

The End.