5. Erestor ponders his place
I bear obvious signs of Ñoldorin blood, and that is all most see in me. The haunting, black-swathed shape of Elrond's chief counselor - is he a remnant of Eregion? Gondolin? Lindon? Is he Avarin? I ignore them. Those closest to my heart - my lord and his family, Glorfindel, Lindir - they know who I am and where I hail from, and that is enough. It is the rumors of vampirism and blood relation to Thuringwethil from sour elements that endlessly amuse me, and drunken words connecting me to Fëanor and his sons sometimes even trigger a smirk. They do not know how close they are.
"Erestor, perhaps if you clothed yourself in lighter colors and actually approached sunlit halls, visitors would not faint of fright. Perhaps if you laughed more freely, you would receive more smiles and generosity. I do not undervalue the respect you command, but relationships aren't built solely on such things. Awe and love, yes. Fear and rumors, no. You are imposing! "
"Glorfindel, it is your job to be loved, Elrond's to be respected, and mine to be paid attention to. Nothing more, nothing less, and if I hear another word out of you about it I'll wallop you with your own journal!"
His golden friend only stared sadly, as if Erestor was missing out on something very important.
"Truly, I understand what you are saying. But please, Glorfindel. I have all the love and respect I need right here," he strode closer and tapped his friend's chest, "from you. Stay as you are, and that alone will be more than I require."
I have lived in Rivendell since its foundation, by the side of Elrond and his family. Lurking, as some would have it, but I simply go where I am needed, whether that be at desks in dim offices or the backs of great lords of elves and men. My role contents me, and I know that my actions influence many without seeming to. I have importance in this valley and culture, far more so than ever before. I have true friends, people that support me and ask only what I can give, not what their legends write me capable of.
"My friend, once again you have been a pillar of support. I know that I have not been very helpful to you in recent times, and I must thank you for keeping Imladris whole and hale in my- depression."
Erestor started. "Elrond! I would never presume to force you to keep working, with the condition that you were in. You needed time and rest, not the problems and responsibilities of a ruler. Do not thank me for doing my job!"
His lord sighed and moved a braid over his shoulder, leaning on the oaken desk for support. "Erestor, what you consider your job, most would consider to have taken over their life. Do my worrywart conscience a favor and go have a picnic with Glorfindel, would you? I am fully recovered and more than capable of dealing with anything that arises today. You, on the other hand, have been doing the work of two for a period of months and have bags under your eyes so large that even a Man would notice. Go rest. Relax. Enjoy yourself. Relearn how to not work – Glorfindel's quite good at that, I'm sure he'll give you a hand." He looked up and smiled. "I don't want to see you in this office for at least three days, more if you can stand it. No records, no archiving, no meetings, no inventory. Take a well-deserved and long-coming break." Raising a hand, he made a shooing motion and waited expectantly for his advisor to exit.
I think that I am loved, and by the people whose opinions mean the most to me. Is that not what Laurë meant, once upon a time? Is that what he wanted me to understand?
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.