Chapter Text
It wasn’t enough.
He doesn’t see much of the battle, only the enemy in front of him and the elves beside him, but all the more of the aftermath. Argon is once again, quiet and peaceful, but from this slumber he won’t wake.
Aredhel kneels beside him, her stoic face only betrayed by the tears running down her dirtied cheeks, all while she pulls arrow after arrow from her youngest brother's body. Then binds the wounds with the few pieces of colorful clothes she has left, pretty embroidered ribbons she used to wear in her hair when they were back home. A strangely vibrant and strong contrast of color peeking from beneath the bloodied fabric of Argons brown and grey clothes and furs. The color of most of their clothing has faded. So slowly, he hadn’t realized until now.
None of them even had any real armor. None of them were ready for any of this.
Glorfindel takes one of the once-golden ribbons out of his hair. It’s beige now, the metal embroidery faded. He offers it to her as he kneels beside her. She barely looks at him, but takes it to tie another piece of cloth around her little brother. Glorfindels mind is numb and terribly empty, he doesn’t know what to say and simply stares at Aredhels hands. It takes a while until she speaks, and when she does it’s so far from her usual loud and bold tone. Glorfindel knows he can count the times she whispered on one hand, knows he never heard her voice break.
“He ran into the enemy's lines. Away from us, I couldn’t see him anymore. He- He got their captain.”
And saved us, Glorfindel thinks, his own wounds reminding him harshly enough of what the battle took from all of them. The sharp pain in his side is new and unwelcome. He’s been just a moment too slow to not get cut. It’s not deep but it bleeds and stings with every movement. He shifts his weight and tries to focus on something else. He takes a jeweled pin from the inside of his clothes, a small golden flower with a white diamond in the middle and pins it to Argons collar. Why did I even take this with me?
“He shouldn’t even have been there.” Glorfindel finds himself saying.
“He was where he wanted to be. He should just have had warriors by his side.” Aredhel counters sharply. Glorfindel looks over to where his spear lies. Yes. He should have. And maybe he would still be alive if he had. And Argons words from so long ago echo back in his head, And maybe you’re unreliable, just as Aredhel says, “If only father hadn’t kept him from training. He’s never liked the bow.”
“He was too young for battle.” Glorfindel says instantly, words tasting foul even on his own tongue.
“Was he really? How do we decide who is? This is not Valinor, this is not safety and bliss, Laure. Don’t insult me.” Aredhel basically spits and Glorfindel bows his head.
“You’re right. It’s not safe.” He agrees. “Exactly why we should be careful. We need to be wiser, protect ourselves and not search for a fight bigger than we can handle.”
“There will always be a bigger fight!” Aredhel yells suddenly, alight with all the fire he can not bear to look at, “And I will not dishonor my brother's bravery by hiding away. I will hunt every single one of them and I will make them pay. Listen closely, Tuluhkastaz ,” she says sharply, and there's a terrible cadence to her voice in the words of the valar, “ I will make them pay. I will hunt them and they will suffer for what they did to my brother .” Her eyes are shining brightly, silver sparks dancing over her skin as she swears her hatred to the orcs. The heavy vowels of valarin weaving like a blanket around them and settling into a stifling bind, almost choking him.
Glorfindel watches her helplessly, Aredhels fury has always scared him. It’s a wildness he yearns for and everything he fears to become. I can’t. I’m so sorry, he thinks, not quite sure to whom, but nods at her. “I have no doubt.” He says, yields, and when she continues to stare at him, he adds, “And you’re right to do so, cousin.” Before he stands up and leaves, unable to suffer her fury and anguish any longer, when his own grief makes its way up his throat.
Idril is far away from the battle.
Ecthelion is not. He has to find him. I have to find him.
He walks almost numbly through the rows of elves, spotting his uncle's banner in the distance, knowing he’d be close to him, this other warrior he likes. Elemmakil, he surely would be there.
“Laurefindele!” A shout, a familiar voice cuts through the field, all of his attention zooming in on Ecthelion, who’s running at him like mad. Ecthelion. His image is like a cold slap to the face, shocking him awake. Ecthelion! He’s feeling strangely awake but disconnected from his body, sees and feels Ecthelion run into him, pull him so terribly tightly, as if he’d anchor them to another, and something in Glorfindel breaks. His wound tears, Glorfindel winces and a noise escapes him.
“We did it,” Ecthelion says, voice almost choking, and Glorfindel digs his fingers even deeper into Ecthelions waist, clings, partly to get the pain back under control.
You’re here.
You’re here, he thinks, and a sob shakes his body. It hurts, but it's nothing compared to the relief of seeing Ecthelion well.
And Argon is dead. Ektelion, Argon is dead. Another sob and he muffles a quiet cry with Ecthelions shoulder. The sadness comes so suddenly and sweeps him away. Frome one second to the other he knows he will not stop this. He's crying when Ecthelion pulls away, no please, please hold me, hold me, just- hide me - and frames his head, I'm so heavy, please, hold me, and Ecthelion looks at him, stricken and helpless even through the tears, and Glorfindel reaches for him again, closing his eyes, burying his head against Ecthelions neck, another sob going through his body. Ecthelions arms close around him, he clings and cries, and somehow, somewhere he thinks he should hide this, not show it, but he needs Ecthelion now and not in an hour when they're back in their tent, he needs the comfort now, to be hidden away from the world for a terrible moment before he's able to face the truth.
"Argon is dead". He's not sure when the words pass his lips, how much time passed, but eventually, they spill over. "He's dead."
"I'm so sorry." Ecthelions voice is muffled as he squeezes him tighter and Glorfindel feels as if he can barely breathe, yet hangs onto him, and a terrible idea unfolds in his mind. Hold me, just hold me, the thought and need is so loud, it's so easy to fall back into old habits, and he finds himself pulling Ecthelion with him, face set on the goal.
Stop me, a quiet voice in his mind calls for Ecthelion, the small part that knows he's about to ruin something. Stop me, please, the voice says again, strangely disconnected from the body that walks briskly to the edge of the forest, drags Ecthelion with him, to the spaces nobody will look.
Don't let me do this to you, they breach the first line of trees, leaving the sounds of the battlefield behind them, and Glorfindel feels his body slow down, come to a stop in the darkness of the forest around them, empty of any animals, eerily quiet.
Do it, take him, screams the void in his chest, don't destroy this, begs the quiet voice of the small, beautiful thing he's carried around for a while now. Just do it, I will hurt less, the void screeches, pulling him in with the promise of another wound, one in whichs shadow Argons death will pale, one that will numb the raw edges of what's been ripped out.
Be done with it, coward, the void sneers and Glorfindel turns to Ecthelion, hands placing themselves on his chest, pushing slowly, and Ecthelion moves with him, letting himself be pushed back until he collides with a tree. Do it, the voice sneers again and he looks up as his hands slide down, something menacing settling in his mind, fingertips falling onto the leather of the belt, come on just-
"Don't." warm hands close around his wrists, stopping him from reaching further and he looks up, Ecthelions eyes are soft and kind and just so full of trust, it feels like a slap to the face and it makes him furious.
Why are you like this?
Where's your anger where's your rage where's-
He feels his lips peel back into an ugly snarl, a noise of frustration and anger and fury escaping his throat, and he rips his wrists out of Ecthelions hands, when another voice cuts through the quiet around them and the raging storm in his mind. " Tulukhastaz ."
It's Fingon, damn you, i hate hate hate hate you-
He sees Fingon approach them and the air between them shifts enough to feel the tension, he barely realizes Ecthelion shifts uncomfortably, and steps back, facing Fingon.
There's black blood all over him and his braids are a mess and he radiates violence. " Maxansata " Glorfindel turns around, the valarin vibrating through his whole body as it rolls off his tongue, taking a step towards Fingon, come here .
"You, Leave us." Fingon says evenly, yet not even looking at Ecthelion, but fully focused on Glorfindel.
Glorfindel reaches for his weapon, fight me, come on, hit me, dropping low, whole body ready to throw himself at him, easily falling in step to circle each other, Fingons blue eyes alight with cold silver. His eyes flicker down to Fingons fist, gauntlet black, the subtle flex of his arms and the rush in his veins has him grinning with the promise of another wound, another pain to numb the loss, try it, I fucking dare you, do your worst .
Ecthelions voice is barely a whisper on the side of his consciousness, drowning in the yearning for a fight, "Leave us." He repeats, focused on Fingon who drops his knives and sword on the ground around him and Glorfindel throws away his spear and knives too.
The old way, just us.
He sees Fingon get ready and somehow the formal stance makes him even more furious and he jumps at him, throwing him to the ground.
"You're a coward and you know it." Fingon spits at him as he throws him to the ground. Glorfindel aches, gasps for breath as his lungs block.
"What's it to you anyway?" he presses out, of course I know.
"I've watched this for centuries, all your Eru-forsaken pining!" a punch to his face rips his head to the side, you watched! WATCHED!
"We can't all fuck our cousins and call it a day." Glorfindel spits back, your father is the reason I couldn't have what I wanted, receiving a second one to the other side and his vision swims, pain exploding behind his temples as the wound beneath his clothes tears.
"Stop whining," Fingon tells him, fuck you , "This is all you ow-" Glorfindel pulls on his arms, pulling him forward, folding himself and getting a heel around Fingons neck, turning them, but Fingon rolls away from him before he can lock him in.
You worm, fight me like you mean it!
They're both back on their feet, stumbling and bloodied. The edge of Glorfindels vision is black and blurred, Fingons nose still drips, that's what you deserve.
"Got enough?" Fingon asks and Glorfindel charges at him, landing a knee to the stomach, grinning triumphant, before Fingon lands his elbow in the middle of his face, knocking him back down.
"Never." fuck you, Glorfindel spits out the blood, ducking as Fingon reaches for him and kicks his feet away under him.
Fingon shouts, almost roars at him and scrambles for him, grabs his leg.
Glorfindel manages another good kick against his chest before Fingon is on him, one hand holding his collar, the other colliding with his chin.
"Why do you have to be like this?" he presses out, landing another one and Glorfindel cries out.
"You're like this too!", welcoming the pain that spreads through his jaw, blinking away the tears.
"I know what you wanted to do!" Fingon shouts, and another punch blurs Glorfindels vision, "You fool! You ignorant, selfish fool!" something cracks in his jaw, or maybe neck, he's not sure.
Go on, go on, come, punch me harder.
"You want pain? You can have it." Fingons voice is thick and Glorfindel blinks as the next punch fails to come, blinking to see Fingon with tears streaking down his face.
Don't. Don't cry on me now. Fuck. Glorfindel pushes himself up, urgency giving a last bit of strength, headbutting Fingon in the chin, throwing him off him.
"Stop it, Laure, damn it!" he spits.
"You stop it, don't start with fucking feelings now!" Glorfindel bites back, raising his fists again.
Fingon bares his teeth, a white-red mess.
"HE WAS MY BROTHER!" Fingon shouts, voice cutting through the silence around them, and for a moment Glorfindel reels in the pain of his words, feels Fingons pain as clear as his own.
NO, I don't want that, not this, not this, NOT THIS - He jumps at him and with a roar Fingon knocks him out for good.
Fingon shakes him awake and he sees the same exhaustion on his face that he feels, bruises on his dark skin, circles under his eyes. He pushes him, a silent get moving , and Glorfindel feels a deep kind of gratitude for Fingon intervening and a deeper shame at the thought of having come so close to destroying the most valuable relationship in his life.
Eru, I just hope he's not… That this wasn't too much already.
The way back to their people is endless and impossibly short at the same time, Fingon leaves him at the edge of the camp that was set up a few minutes away from the battlefield, Glorfindel looks around, searching for his tent. Our tent, I hope.
He spots Fingolfin and Turgon and wanders through the rows until he spots the familiar fabric and furs that make up their small space. He can't quite keep his feet from speeding up like his heart, beating up to his throat while his stomach makes a turn, please be there, please, please, please, and he spots him, Ektelion, Ektelion, sitting in front of his tent.
Their eyes meet and it's as if his feet drag through ever deeper mud, suddenly incredibly heavy, and there's something in Ecthelions gaze that has him hesitating. I must look worse than Fingon, considering how he wiped the floor with me.
He slowly comes to a stop before their tent, before Ecthelion, searching his face, finding wariness and worry. "Please." he finds himself whispering, barely loud enough for the other to hear, hiding his hands in the expanse of his cape, "I'm s- tired." I'm so sorry, I'm so very sorry, he reaches for the tent flap, holding Ecthelions gaze as long as he can, I'm so sorry, you were right, I'm so sorry, before ducking down and crawling into their small space. Sitting at the far end, curled around his legs, fingers clinging to the fabric of his pants, he waits for Ecthelion to follow.
"I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." he says, closing his eyes and burying his face against his knees. "I won't try your trust like that again." he can't stand looking at him although he knows he should, he deserves an apology. And someone who can be better, someone who isn’t tied up in so many problems.
As if he’s heard, he feels Ecthelions hand over his, once again careful and warm and Glorfindel looks up, trying to swallow down the unease the far too soft touch causes him.
“I am alright, you haven’t hurt my trust in any way, It was I who failed you when I left.” Ecthelions tells him and Glorfindel frowns, fingers twitching under Ecthelions hands and he can’t stand it any longer, and pulls his hand away.
“No.” He presses out, looks away, “No you didn’t. And it’s not.” It’s not alright, it’s never alright, I shouldn’t put you through this but I can’t help it I’m just- “No.” He repeats, drawing further in on himself. “I des- needed that. Don’t- Please don’t.” Don’t get mixed up in that. Please just let me be the better version with you, let me keep this out of what we have. Isilme, please.
He hears shifting over the furs and feels Ecthelion move away, looks back up when he hears him say “I really am sorry.” and Glorfindel feels his stomach turn further, blindsided by the realization how strange it is that he doesn’t look at him, looks at his dirty ring instead. No, don’t do that, please- “ I should have given you what you asked for.” He continues.
No, no, you were right, you were absolutely right, please don’t think that I would- I was just angry, so terribly angry and I should never have reached for you, never should have tried to use you like that, never- “Ektelion.” sounding just as miserable, wondering how he’s even speaking anymore when everything is so heavy and his bruised ribs and face hurt with every movement.
Please don’t make yourself less than you are, don’t let me make you into something less than you are, he thinks, I don’t want your guilt, or pity, I wanted you for so long, I don’t know what I would do if- if you’d regret- if you turn- please. I don’t want this, all of this between us, this sadness and frustration, please just let it go, It’s my fault, please just let it go, let it go, let it go-
“ No. Don’t ever say that again. Please, just-” He’s not quite sure what he’s even asking for, sighing sadly before he tucks his legs under him, hissing as his knees protest and he almost falls to the side, barely catching himself, damn . He looks over at him, trying to catch his eye, “You did nothing wrong.”, he says, “Please believe me.”
Isilme, please, he adds, voice as soft and steady as he can manage. He sees Ecthelion take a sharp and shaky breath, I’m sorry, I never wanted to make you feel like that. You’re so important to me, I never wanted you to feel inadequate.
“Well apparently I didn’t do anything right either.” Ecthelions head snaps up and for the first time he finds himself glared at, none of that softness in his blue eyes, but sharp and cold like ice and Glorfindel has nothing to save himself from that, has never really feared anything like that from Ecthelion, and maybe therefore it hits so much deeper. What?
“What?” The sentence is so ridiculous, the thoughts leave his mouth without filter and he stares at him.
To his utter confusion Ecthelion crosses his arms, his cold blue eyes pinning him and Glorfindel finds himself unable to move as Ecthelion rants, “When I try to stop you from doing something stupid as I did in the forest you push me away to do something even worse instead. And when I do as you say and leave you come back black and blue and unwilling to let me comfort you. Now, tell me how was any of that right?”
How was any of that not right? Didn’t you see that the only reason we’re talking in any way is Findekano? Sees his arms and shoulders flex, anger in his posture and voice clearer and louder than he’s ever heard it. I’ve never known you like that, flickers through his mind, as he continues
“And while you are at it why don’t you explain to me why you are saying we shouldn’t have done that first thing all of a sudden when I have literally seen you throw yourself at others in the same situation?” and Glorfindel feels as if the tent shrinks in on them, Ecthelions presence and anger filling the air in a way he’s having difficulties to breathe, as if he’s backed into a corner.
It’s more instinct than anything else to raise his defenses, feeling as if the floor was swept out from underneath him, why you , “Oh now you’re angry I didn’t use you?” He spits, leaning forward. Ecthelion might be stronger, but what is another bruise? “Angry that I care about you? I thought you’d care.” His voice turns as bitter as the taste on his tongue. “Do you really want me to do that? Throw myself at you? Is that why you’re here?” Is this what you want? Hurt? A fight? A fuck? He might have gotten a little louder than he wanted to, and when he realizes, he closes his mouth abruptly, sitting back down on his heels.
It’s so easy to cling to anger, no matter how much it hurts to see him like this, anger keeps him going, anger keeps him from crying and all the other useless emotions. He bares his teeth, hands shaking, voice sharp, aiming for the last strike, needing to make it before he can’t hold the tears anymore, “I’ve tried to apologize but now I’m wondering whether that was even necessary.” Maybe it’s the hollow laugh he gets in return that does the job, that finally makes him unable to keep the tears at bay. And even if without that, his words surely would have done it.
“You haven’t done anything but use me. Or do you have a different word to describe keeping someone around until you get enough of their presence and push them away?” Ecthelion is loud and with every word and tear he feels a little more hollowed out.
This is it? This- This is the end? Am I to mourn my cousin and my love at the same day? I really should have stayed. Elenwë was right. I wouldn’t have known any of this.
“I care alright, Eru, I care so fucking much I held you through every terrible thing that happened for years now.” he continues but it helps little, the flame already too small under the tears, and he falters, bowing under it, eyes unfocused somewhere on the floor.
I needed you, I still need you. Fuck. I don’t want this. Don’t want your anger. I can’t- I can’t handle this. Please. Just- throw me out if you’re that angry.
He’s not done, “And do you really think that’s what I’m after? Do you know me so little? I literally just pushed you away because that’s not what I want. I just wanted to do whatever kept you from letting yourself get hurt by others. And you initiated it, you reached for me. How can you suddenly think I’m the one just wanting you for things like that when it’s you? You who asked that from me? You who kissed me and replaced me with someone else.”
Ecthelions words pierce right through him and he feels like he’s trying to grasp phantom knives, all hurt but none can be caught and why can’t I think , why- I never kissed-
He hasn’t thought about Caumano in years now, but feels as if he’d just seen him yesterday, sees him in the anger of Ecthelions face, silver not blue, different features, but a replacement nonetheless.
“Why were you insisting that it’s you fault then? Why didn’t you let me apologize for pushing too far?” He looks back up, hating how ugly his voice sounds when he cries, this feeble, quiet thing, weak as he never wanted to be. Fuck. “I’ve always trusted you, you’re my only friend and I’ve just- I don’t have anyone else. Not like- like this. And I’ve tried to tell you, it was a mistake, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else- I don’t remember kissing you, but if I did, I’m sorry for that too.” He pulls his cloak higher around him, fingers digging painfully into the fabric and flesh below, but he forces himself to hold his gaze, not because it hurts more, he’s feeling so exhausted and numb, there's not much more to take, but because he’d much rather just fall down where he sits and Ecthelions eyes have always been intense.
He sees a series of emotions in Ecthelions eyes as he speaks, one of them surely anger, and then he too has tears in his eyes and Glorfindel watches numbly how he’s almost surprised by it, and wipes his face with a curse, and there’s restlessness that scares him.
Please, don’t. Don’t leave. Not you too. He faintly hears the memory of the day Elenwë died, how he told him I don’t know what I would have done had you died, and realizes he doesn’t know it either would he leave. I never thought you would. I never thought you would decide to. What else can I say? I just want you to stay. I need you.
And even now he’s sure that nothing they had wasn’t real, is sure that Ecthelion cares, there have been way too many emotions. It’s not a conscious realization, more a thought on the side, one that pulls on the last of the threads that held him together, that held the thoughts inside his treacherous mouth.
“I need you.”
His voice is quiet and even to himself he sounds strange, but he can’t summon enough energy to care anymore. He’s got his heart anyway.
Ecthelion hides his face and there’s a sound behind his hands that sounds far too much like a sob, and the small thing inside Glorfindels chest cracks a little more. The tone of Ecthelions voice makes it and the words it carries even worse.
“Why? Please, I want to believe you just- Give me one damn reason why out of all the people it’s me that you trust and call a friend, and need. What do I have to give if I can’t even be there for you right now?”
“Because you’re good.” Falls out of his mouth before he can even think about it, “You’re kind. You’re compassionate. Loyal, caring, soft despite everything sharp around you.” He feels the small thing in his chest sparks, his heartbeat speeds up and it’s beating up to his throat, and he’s scared, so very scared, but he can’t keep the words inside, dropping his hands from out of his cape. “You’re good and you’re strong and I feel safe with you, in so many ways. You take care of me and let me care for you and I feel stronger with you. Better, when you’re around, when I know you at my side. That is why I call you my friend. And why I need you.”
And why I love you.
He keeps looking at him, just looking and hoping he won’t tear his fragile heart further apart, Please. You must know. Please. And every second feels like an agonizing eternity, waiting on any kind of sign, anything, please, anything.
And Ecthelion swallows, what is it? Words? He’s hoping for kind ones despite everything, something to pull the stitches back together, something good, not daring to hope he would welcome him any time soon, not with everything between them. And still, he can’t help himself, the restlessness running underneath his skin, hoping for the comfort he craves, to just throw himself in his arms and forget, tune the world out and-
Ecthelion lifts his hand with hope in his eyes. Yes, please, yes. Nothing short of sudden unconsciousness could have stopped him from falling forward, from finally crossing that awful space between them, from following his wildly beating heart and crashing into him, no care for the dirt they both carry as he slings his arms around his neck, pressing himself as close as possible as they tumble.
Isilme.
Holding him close in armor is only half as rewarding, Glorfindel instantly misses the warmth and familiar lines of his body, wishing he’d had thought about that, panicking at the thought of letting go, afraid to provoke more conflict when he asks to let go and undress, of all the wrong signals it would send, so he holds on.
Ecthelion hugs him tight enough, and he’s glad armor makes movement difficult when he hears his voice close to him, a quiet “I do need you too.” that sounds far too heavy. Far too full to not make that terrible thing in Glorfindels chest scream loudly,
i love you, i love you, i love you,
and the armor keeps him from just kissing him then and there.