Archive of Our Own

The first thing they did was to teach them how to block the other.

Over the years, they have learned it as most couples do, to read one another's thoughts, know one another's feelings. Over time, when the fights came more often, when feelings cooled, they learned how to hide their thoughts, so that over time it was only a faint presence that remained, easily pushed to the back of one's mind, forgotten.

It was Estë who taught them the tricks of the mind. It was she who showed them how to build a wall such that nothing of you could escape for the other to sense. This would be temporary, she said, until such time that they would be asked again to make the parting permanent. Not all requests to sever marital bonds, after all, were granted here in Aman.

For a long time, Glorfindel thought he no longer noticed Erestor's presence in his mind. It was only now, in this, when Estë waved her hand in front of Erestor's face and he closed his eyes to let her, was Glorfindel reminded of what silence truly meant.

All became quiet and dark, like shutters being pulled down to block the Sun. It took some time to adjust, but Glorfindel stood his ground, refused to let the effect of it show.

But truly, the winds of Aman can grow cold after all.

Long had Glorfindel been witness to Erestor's many interactions with others around him. However, he had always also known the contents of Erestor's mind, and so he had taken that security for granted, and never questioned him.

The first time he saw another touch Erestor's arm after the severing, such fire seemed to blaze within him, especially when Erestor did nothing to deter the lady's approach, or when he returned her smile. With nothing of his thoughts visible to Glorfindel, he could not read Erestor's true sentiments anymore - what he intended of her, how he saw her.

He was struck by how badly he wanted to go there, to take Erestor aside and demand what he thought he was doing. It took several moments for him to remember that Erestor had every right to interact with whomever he willed now, without Glorfindel's permission. Such was their agreement the moment they stepped upon the shores of Aman.

Glorfindel therefore turned his back to them, and ignored them, for that was what he was supposed to do. Caring about such things, after all, were likely but remnants of a past life, back in Middle-Earth, where all things were left behind. 

One day, Glorfindel thought to leave. 

It was better this way, he told himself. Anyway, he had spent many happy years in Gondolin, and it was said that they built a city much like it here, just a short ride away from the main city in Valinor.

There he saw old friends. Ecthelion, Rog, Egalmoth and Galdor, they were all there, most with their own families, a new life established here after the peace of Mandos.

Glorfindel spent some time there with them, and things were good at first. He built a cottage beside Ecthelion's, for he found the area suited to his needs, and anyway, he spoke with Ecthelion most often, given their long history of friendship.

"Glorfindel, why don't you marry?" Ecthelion asked him one day. "I even thought you would have found a mate by now, so long did you stay in Middle-Earth. Did no one catch your fancy?"

Memories of a time long ago quickly passed through Glorfindel's mind. He remembered a face jumping out to him in a sea of counsellors, sharp-eyed and beautiful in Gil-galad's court.

He turned back to Ecthelion, and he shook his head. "No," he told him. "I have no mate."

Not anymore. 

Days passed one after the other. That was something he had forgotten here in Aman. When days of peace were expected each and every day, one could easily forget how long it had been, and days and months and years could all seem as though they were about the same.

Glorfindel often took walks, long walks from city to city. He never returned to the main city, but he did grow to learn its outskirts and the other minor cities surrounding it.

Lórien became a favourite for him, once he discovered it. There he would often lie, fully able to wile an entire day in the comfort of those gardens. There in that place, the shadow in his chest would often lighten, and there the sound of birdsong would fill the silence in his mind.

He would visit the gardens whenever he was able. Some days, when he was most tired, he would even stay there and would not rise. Anyway, some days he thought that there was no reason to, for there was no one waiting for him at home, and everywhere Aman was the same, cold wherever one went.

He did not know if it was that he grew not to care, or if it was all that time spent lying in Lórien, but the wall in his mind suddenly became visible to him one cloudy day. He never realised how flimsy he had built it, but there it was, all weak and paper thin.

Everyday Glorfindel would watch it, looking at it in a detached sort of way and wondering if any of his thoughts ever came through to Erestor. It was a bad-looking wall, after all, so perhaps some stray thought could escape. He wondered if Erestor ever thought about him since their parting, and if he ever wondered where Glorfindel went.

Glorfindel did nothing to strengthen that wall, and so the day came when Estë's wall finally cracked. Glorfindel did not care; he was tired, and it was tiring to keep it up anyway. What did it matter if Erestor could read him? After all, that Elf had a talent for ignoring things, so this must not pose as too much of a problem. 

"So this is where you have been."

Erestor was beautiful amidst the light of Lórien's fireflies. Glorfindel expected he would be.

Finally he came, an Erestor formed out of Glorfindel's daydreams, which truthfully came much too slowly for Glorfindel. But, he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and really, any Erestor would do. At least here in this garden of dreams, Erestor would be kind, and here perhaps he would even love Glorfindel again.

Erestor's face came closer, frowning directly down at Glorfindel, having approached him where he was lying on his back under a tree.

"I am no dream, Glorfindel."

This time, it was Glorfindel who frowned up at him. What a cruel detail for Irmo to make. Then again, what was the big deal, for dreams to not admit that they were dreams? All dreams were lies, and perhaps this was for the best. This way, Glorfindel could even believe it, learn to think it all real.

He reached out to him, this idea with his husband's face. It was all right to still call him that here, was it not? Anyway, it was only a dream.

Erestor laid himself beside Glorfindel and welcomed him in his arms, and Glorfindel could not help but close his eyes at that old familiar touch. Fingers in his hair, tips lightly rubbing against the side of his face - it dawned on him all of a sudden how long it had been, how much he missed this. The breath hitched in his chest and his eyes grew hot, so he shut them tight, and knowing naught what else to do, he turned to him, this version of Erestor, and he buried his face in his robes.

Too long did the days seem - or had it been years now? - since that day on the Western shores and Glorfindel agreed to turn his back from this embrace. Regret filled his heart, as it often did these days, thinking that were he to be given a chance to do it all over again, he would have fought him more, refused him harder. He would not have let him go.

Overhead, the birds began to sing their love songs. Glorfindel kept his eyes closed. He wanted to keep on dreaming.

"Why do you come here, Glorfindel?" asked Erestor.

Lórien always seemed to have around it a faint mist, no matter the time of day.

"I find I am tired of a lot of things," Glorfindel told him, slowly and tiredly. "I come here to rest."

Erestor's caresses were gentle, fingers just sifting through Glorfindel's hair. "You can rest at home. Why don't we go home?"

Glorfindel did not understand why Erestor kept saying these things. He was not even sure that Erestor would not disappear if they leave these gardens, where waking and dreaming were much like the other, and memories walked like real people.

Estë came on yet another misty day.

Glorfindel leant back against Erestor, seated as they were under a tree. He did not know how many days it had been, for he had long given up counting them.

"I have come to fulfill your request to the end, if that is still your wish," said the Vala when she reached them. She sat in front of them and addressed Glorfindel. "Child, do you still mean this request?"

Glorfindel stared up at her, all light and grey and foreboding. She was the one who separated them that first day, the one who listened to Erestor's case and built those walls.

Glorfindel shook his head at her, no.

No, no, he did not want it. He never did. It was Erestor who no longer wanted it; it was he who said he no longer loved Glorfindel, and it was he who brought their request to the Valar.

"I lied," said a voice behind him. It was Erestor who spoke as he tightened his arms around Glorfindel. "I lied. At the height of anger and in my pride, I said what I thought would hurt you the most. It is not true, and I did not expect for you to agree. I am sorry, Glorfindel."

How beautifully was this Erestor made, and Glorfindel briefly thought of telling Estë that, as a message to send to her husband. Glorfindel had been having more pleasant days ever since Erestor awakened in his dreams.

"It is not in the way of the Valar to sever ties, nor do we look kindly at being so deceived," said the lady. "You both stood before us wanting the opposite of what your mouth speaks. How is it that you would stand before us that way instead of telling the other the truth?

"And you," she said, turning to Erestor. "You have brought your mate to this, caught within a waking dream. Do you realise what you have done? No one is supposed to endure pain in Aman, and this is poor reward for someone who did Manwë a favour by returning to Middle-Earth as his emissary."

"How come he cannot hear me?" Erestor asked her. "I have long put down my walls, but he does not hear me."

"He is elsewhere, young master, and even we of the Valar do not know everything there is about Elves, or how you love, nor can we heal your wounds in an instant. Many of the hurt ones just tend to come here in these gardens."

"Can you bring him back?" Erestor asked again, though Glorfindel knew not what he meant.

The Vala looked at Erestor for a long time, and then shook her head. "His mind is his own. It is his decision whether he wishes to stay here or to return with you, or even if he would wish to return to Mandos, wherein he once was able to find peace."

Those arms tightened around him again. Glorfindel sighed, content.

"I am not returning him to Mandos. Glorfindel belongs with me."

Estë smiled. "We shall see."

Most of the time, Glorfindel would just sleep. Erestor slept with him, and together they would wake, there in the grass - sometimes under Arien's light, sometimes under Varda's stars.

"Have you woken to me yet, Glorfindel?" Erestor would often ask him.

Glorfindel did not always understand what he meant, and so he would just shake his head. But he would take Erestor's hand, hold it tight, and bury his face on Erestor's chest.

Erestor would kiss him then, and he would say, "Take your time." 

Glorfindel woke to a day that felt a bit different. Erestor held him still, but his presence was not merely around Glorfindel. There was the whisper of an old presence in his mind, a voice saying things he could not at first understand, but they brought him warmth the likes of which he thought he had already forgotten.

The grass around them looked so vividly green.

"Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel blinked, the Sun seeming too bright. He squinted a little as he turned, and found he had to work to focus his eyes on Erestor. "Good morning," he greeted him.

At first Erestor did not respond, for it seemed as though he stared at Glorfindel for a very long time. Then, a smile spread slowly on his face. It stretched widely, and looked a touch hopeful. "Good morning, Glorfindel."

My Glorfindel, my darling. I am sorry. Have you returned to me?

Glorfindel heard these, too, though Erestor's mouth spoke different words.

"Are we going home today?" asked Erestor.

Glorfindel looked at him, and then the gardens around them again. Today felt warm - too warm, in fact, for it was already high noon. Was it summer now? Everything looked sharp that it almost hurt his eyes.

He looked again at Erestor, who looked wary but beautiful still, under the shade of that tree. Glorfindel looked at him, and nodded his head.