gondolin_noble | (no subject)

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It's a peaceful evening in the valley - maybe a little too quiet, with Celebrian and her two sons gone to see her parents in Lothlorien. Now that the sons are both well-grown and trained to Glorfindel's standards, he felt comfortable letting them take command of the guard on that particular journey.

It helps that he's personally been over that pass quite a few times this season, and hasn't found any signs of trouble. Not that he'll ever tell the twins that, of course.

Still, it's a very nice evening, a good one to sit with a book and listen to the water (and the never-ending minstrels).

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The tireless training of the Imladris guard pays off again - Glorfindel doesn't have to pull away to divide the remaining soldiers, assign duties, or worry about how they will all get home again. He makes a mental note to reward them later when elves appear to help the injured and exhausted Peredhil onto horses, to bring Asfaloth and make him kneel in the blood-soaked mud so he can mount without shifting Celebrian again, to burn the bodies of the orcs and bring home their own dead with honor.

Instead he can sing to his lady, and ignore the baleful stares of the twins, and make sure Elrond doesn't fall out of his saddle.

His face is white, with pain and worry, but that is the only outward sign of his inner turmoil.

He does reach out to his sons though, torn between wanting to comfort them and to stay close to Celebrian.
The latter urge wins out in the end, as his own world narrows from pain and blood loss.

He stays in the saddle though. He only needs his legs for that.

The ride back into the valley is more unending than the ride out - now he has the time to count every hoofbeat, every heartbeat, every cry, every drop of blood.

He would honestly prefer another balrog.

It ends eventually as all things must, and when they clatter into the courtyard a veritable army of healers await them, warned of their coming by the scouts posted at the borders of the valley. They surge around the returning warriors like a rising tide and Glorfindel does not interfere - they take his silver queen without so much as a by-your-leave, and he trusts that while they'll listen to Elrond for a time, they won't let him do anything life-threatening.

It is a testament to just how worried and worn Elrond is, that he snaps at the healer that comes to assist him get off his horse.
Elrond who is kind and patient and rarely raises his voice. In his own hall.

Everybody takes notice thereof.

He follows the healers and it is late evening before Glorfindel sees him again. Bandaged and pale and leaning against the balustrade of the balcony outside of Celebrian's chamber.
This is obviously as far as they've managed to make him go.

Glorfindel appears on the balcony before too long, also using the architecture for support (in this case, a wall). He's managed to get out of his armor, and has been given a once-over by the healers - he's been warned he will be hunted down eventually, but for the nonce bandages and a warning not to do anything stupid will suffice. He may be every color of the rainbow, but he didn't manage to garner anything life-threatening.

Though he is more battered than last he saw Elrond - he had been in the healer's wing when the twins were finally cornered. Elladan had been fairly easy to sedate, but Elrohir had fought tooth and nail, and hadn't taken kindly to being restrained.

Glorfindel doesn't ask how Celebrian fares - actually, he's surprised the poor elf hasn't fled for Mandos already. He's seen those less grievously wounded succumb faster. Clearly, Celebrian is at least as stubborn as her mother.

"How are they?"
Elrond sounds even more worn than he looks. And he looks very worn indeed.

"Angry. Sedated, for the time being. They need rest and neither was particularly inclined to take it." Glorfindel doesn't have it in him to be sorry to have forced the issue. They would have only ended up doing something to make the grief of today worse.

He sighs and rubs his face with his hands.
"I will talk to them when they wake up," he says.

His fingers are shaking. Just a little.

"Or when you wake up." Glorfindel suggests, with deceptive mildness.

He almost saw an end to his oath today. He perhaps can be forgiven for a tiny bit of overprotectiveness.

Or a whole heck of a lot of overprotectiveness, because that's what's coming.

"I can't sleep,"comes the reply.
Either he is too distraught and exhausted to see beyond the deceptive mildness. Or he ignores it.

"You must." His voice is soft, but inexorable. It's the voice some of the younger guards call 'the voice of doom', which usually makes Glorfindel roll his eyes and find something unpleasant for them to do. "If you collapse, you will only be creating more work for the healers, and they won't let you come near her, you know they won't - they would fear you would give too much of yourself away. I will watch her, while you sleep, and you needn't go far - there's an empty bed in the next room."

He pauses, and then adds, softly:

"Or have I lost your faith in this?"

"No," Elrond says, closing his eyes.
"But she will -" His voice breaks.

"She stands upon a knife's edge - your pain may hinder just as much as your love will aid, Elrond." He reminds his lord, gently. "Regain some of your own strength so you can help bring her back to us."

Elrond sighs, and bows his head, his hair shrouding his face.
He looks like he can hardly stay on his feet.

He steps forward cautiously - he has already fought the twins down today, he has no desire to do the same for their father.

If anything, because Elrond hits harder.

"Come sleep, mellon. One watch only - You have my word I won't let them keep you away after."

"On a pallet, in her room," Elrond replies. Slowly.
"I can't - she is slipping away, Glorfindel. I have to be near her."

He knows Glorfindel has a different perspective, but he has an Elros shaped hole in his life. Partings are very difficult for him.

And he is failing her. He should be able to make this better.

"And you will rest? Truly rest - I will know it if you will not." Glorfindel bargains, raising an eyebrow.

"I will close my eyes."

Counter offer.

"Two watches then, but I will rouse you if anything changes, for good or ill." Glorfindel would have considerably less patience if he didn't know Elrond, and if he didn't love Celebrian.

He nods. Silently.

Accepting it, because he can feel the distance from the world brought about by exhaustion.
And because he trusts Glorfindel to keep his word.

Grateful this will not become a battle, Glorfindel steps forward to guide Elrond back inside. The healers watching over Celebrian look ready to gear up for another fight, but now that he has a path that he deems acceptable, Glorfindel is implacable.

Eventually a bed is found and brought in, and Glorfindel practically stands over Elrond until he is in it.

He lies down, his face turned toward Celebrian's bed, one hand next to it, Palm up.
Ready to hold her hand if she needs him to.
Wants him to.

His eyes drift shut.

Glorfindel takes a seat near Celebrian and does his best impression of a great golden ornery elvish mule, forcing the healers to leave Elrond be and work around the pair of them.

The healers, being well used to this mood from Glorfindel, don't pay him much mind at all. They're just thankful they don't have to treat him at the moment.

Little changes through the long watches of the night, but Glorfindel doesn't mind.

At some point Elrond opens his eyes, but he stays so still that the healers at least do not notice.

He listens to her. Her breathing.
And there are tears in his eyes.

It is near time that he'd rouse Elrond anyway, but when Celebrian shifts, so does he - forcibly rousting his lord from his bed and lending what strength he can to make sure Elrond is alert and coherent.