Five Little Words

Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle Earth, by J.R.R. Tolkien, all characters belong to Tolkien and the Tolkien estate. I write these stories for my own pleasure, and for those who like to read them. I make no money from this work.
Relationship: Ecthelion, Lord of the Fountain, and Glorfindel, Lord of the Golden Flower

All characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien

Author’s note: in the original Secret Agent Elve story, when Ecthelion returns from Mordor to Imladris, all turns out well. I often write ‘what if’ stories in this Universe also. This is a ‘what if’ all did not go well on Ecthelion’s return to Imladris. The story takes place at the beginning of the Third Age.

Five Little Words

Chapter One – Living at the Falls

He was back from Mordor. Back from the indiscretions and the unfaithfulness. Back from all the things I knew he had been doing there. It had given the phrase ‘sleeping with the enemy’ a whole new meaning. He had become Sauron’s lover. And not just Sauron’s, but the King of Harad’s too. Sauron, the King of Harad, and who else? Oh, we had heard reports. And I could imagine all the things they left out. I had forgiven him in the past, but I had hoped that the years in the Halls of Waiting had changed him. It hadn’t and I wasn’t sure that I could forgive him this time.

It was good to be back home, in Imladris, for it was truly my home now and had been for many long years. We, I and the twins that is, had arrived late one warm spring evening, and as soon as we crossed the Bruinen I knew he was back. I could feel his presence as surely as I could feel the beating of my own heart. I found him sitting by one of the fountains in the garden. He turned at my approach, and I guess he could see the hesitancy in my eyes. He knew that I knew. That was what came of loving someone. Knowing without words. He did not run to me, as he always did, did not throw his arms around me, did not kiss me. Instead there were only the five words.

“Do you hate me then?”

“I could have answered ‘No’,” but I didn’t.

He took my lack of response as a ‘yes’, and the look in his eyes said it was what he had expected. Shrugging his shoulders as if it didn’t matter, he turned then and left. He went to live up at the High Falls. He had been there during all the spring, and the long hot summer and the fall. And now it was freezing winter, and there was snow on the ground. In all that time we had not spoken again.

Chapter two – Watching

He could be stubborn. I knew how stubborn he could be. But I could be stubborn too. I wouldn’t go to him. I wouldn’t give him an answer. I wasn’t ready to relent, because I knew my answer was ‘No. How could I hate you? I love you.’ In my heart of hearts I knew that was true, but I was letting my mind rule me.

I often stood on my balcony and looked up at the High Falls. I could just see him, a small black object against the white snow. I knew he was watching me too. He often did. He couldn’t have missed my golden hair among all the dark-haired inhabitants of Imladris. But his heart would have told him exactly where I was, even had I been invisible. He loved me, as he always had.

Elladan came into my room to ask some question or the other and saw me standing there watching. He walked out onto the balcony and looked up too. “He must be cold up there,” he said.

“Well, he could come down here where it is warm,” I curtly replied.

Elladan looked at me in surprise. “Glorfindel,” he admonished me. “You have been making yourself miserable ever since we all returned from Mirkwood in the spring. What happened between you two?”

It wasn’t the first time I had been asked that question, nor was it the first time I hadn't answered.

“You could at least take him some blankets and food. I bet he is hungry. There isn’t much to eat up there this time of year.”

I ignored his little speech. “You had a question?” I asked instead, changing the subject.

“I just wondered if you were coming down to the Hall of Fire this evening. You haven’t been for ages. We miss you.”

“Yes. It has been exactly nine months, three days, thirteen hours and twenty-seven minutes,” I said, “but who’s counting?”

He gave me a look like one of his Adar’s. “Who’s counting indeed? And how many seconds has it been, mellon-nin? And the two of you have not spoken a single word to one another. And you haven’t been a part of life here since you last spoke to Ecthelion.”

“I haven’t felt much like singing, but thanks anyway,” I said in dismissal.

He put a friendly hand on my shoulder. “You know we are all here for you, mellon-nin.”

“I know,” was all I said, and he left, closing the door softly behind him.

Chapter three – Ride to the Falls

I stood there for a few more minutes, and then I relented. I would take him some blankets, and food too. I dug two soft warm woolen ones out of the closet and put them in a saddlebag. Then I went down to the kitchen to raid it. There was half a left-over ham and some chicken. I put them into another saddle bag, along with some bread and cheese, lembas and tea, and a small bottle of miruvor. Then going to the stables, I mounted Asfaloth and rode toward the falls. The winter days were short, and the sun was already low in the sky. I knew it would set before I got there, but I had ridden the path many times and I trusted my horse to know the way too. It was a ride of at least a couple of hours.

I finally arrived to find him sitting on a rock in the snow in front of a burned out fire. He didn’t acknowledge me. I dismounted and said “You look cold, and hungry.”

“I’m fine,” he said, but I could see he was not.

He was not going to make this easy. Did I mention how stubborn he is? I looked around at the almost empty clearing. “Where have you been sleeping?” I asked curiously. He lifted his head and pointed with it at the large oak tree behind me. I turned and looked at it, and could see a tiny flet on one of the lower branches.

“I brought you some blankets, and food.”

“Take them. I don’t need them. I don’t want to be indebted to Elrond, nor to you, for anything.”

“I don’t think Elrond is going to miss a couple of blankets,” I said, smiling, putting my heart into the smile, and hoping it would say what I still couldn’t.

“Whatever. I don’t need them.”

“You could come down to the house. It’s warm there,” I pleaded.

“Warm? In your bed, Glorfindel?”

“Or wherever you wish to sleep, Ecthelion.”

“How could someone with such a cold heart have a warm bed?” he asked. His eyes were grey icicles, but I could see the hurt in them.

He stood up then, and just stood there staring. This was not going well. It surprised and hurt me to see how thin and bedraggled he looked. I wanted to grab him and shake him until he came to his senses. I wanted to hold him, and kiss him until we were both breathless with desire. I wanted to beg his forgiveness for my pigheadedness. Then I wanted to make love to him, right there in the snow. But I didn’t. I just stared back, my smile turning to a look of sorrow. How had we two, who had loved so much, come to this point?

“You hate me,” he said, and before I could stop him, he took the knife from his belt and stabbed himself through the heart.

“Nooooo!” I heard myself scream. I felt my heart break as he slumped to the ground, and I stood staring at his too red blood staining the very white snow. “No.” I knelt down beside him, knowing it was too late. He was dead. I kissed his still warm lips and whispered “No. I still love you.”

I took the two blankets from the saddlebags and laid them carefully on the ground. Then I wrapped him in them, tying him securely with a length of rope. Lifting his body gently, I walked over to the precipice and threw it into the falls, thinking the river would take him to the sea, to a watery grave befitting the Lord of the Fountain. But before his body landed a giant hand came out of the falls and caught it. Lord Ulmo had taken his little protégé home.

I got on Asfaloth and looked down at the house. The Last Homely House. My home. I knew I couldn’t go back there. Not yet. It would be long before I could return to the sympathetic stares and the emptiness of a world without him. Even one where he was only a black speck on a faraway mountain.

So I rode on east toward the Misty Mountains. Then I crossed them in the dead of winter with the snows swirling around me. I rode blindly through the frozen landscape, seeing nothing but the look in his eyes everywhere I turned. It was a long, sad journey of almost two months. And at last I came down into Mirkwood, where I again spent the winter. I knew Elrond could live without me until I decided to return. Messenger birds could deliver the message of my whereabouts to him.

Chapter four – Healing in Mirkwood

I had always enjoyed spending time in Mirkwood. The King’s halls were warm and safe, and the people there pleasant and welcoming. I knew many of them quite well, having spent much time there over the centuries. But I guess it was obvious that my heart wasn’t there this time. Thranduil noticed my melancholy mood and finally insisted I go talk to the healer.

“I’m not sick,” I told him, but King Thranduil was not one to take ‘no’ for an answer.

“I insist,” he bluntly told me in his most imperial manner.

So I went. And I talked. And they told me it would help if I wrote about my feelings. Wrote about them? Wrote about them! What good would writing do? What I needed was enough wine to obliterate the image of my lover which haunted me day and night. But the healer insisted, so I wrote.

Lost

You stand there
staring at me
torn between love and hate,
torturing yourself on the knife edge
of a sword

wanting, needing, desiring,

speechless.

No words convey
the thoughts in your mind
but your eyes betray the
longing inside;

I stand there
staring at you,

torn

reaching, hoping, willing you
to the safety of my
encircling arms,

Between us two steps
To healing, forgiving, loving;

You stand there
staring,
lost between hate and love,

motionless,

one tear betrays
your iron-willed self-control,

until trembling
you raise a hand
and plunge the knife
deep into your heart,

And I stand there staring –
lost

The healer read it in silence and made no comment. I left, and she never asked me to come back. Thranduil never brought it up again either. She must have told him I was okay. He came to me one night not long after that, and I found there were other ways of healing in his arms. We were Bonded in the spring before I returned to Imladris. It wasn’t an easy life, but we managed to spend as much time together as possible, and I have never regretted it.

Epilogue – Fourth Age, 120

It is winter, and I am sitting up here at the High Falls. I haven’t been here in many centuries, I haven’t been here since Ecthelion died. This is our last winter in Imladris where I have ruled for the last one hundred and twenty years. Elrond sailed with most of the populace at the beginning of the age, right after the wedding of Estel and Arwen. He is King Elessar now, but I still think of him as little Estel, our hope. I stayed in Middle Earth along with Legolas and Gimli and Thranduil, to serve Estel, the last of Turgon’s family, to which I was oath bound.

Estel passed from this earth last week, and my oath to Turgon is completed. His descendents will be fine without me. So we sail to Valinor in the spring, Thranduil and I, Legolas and Gimli, and any of the last of our people who wish to come. There will be no more ships after this one. But I digress. Take it as the ramblings of one who feels ancient. Who is ancient.

Today I am sitting at the Falls, and thinking of my once beloved Ecthelion. I wonder what he is doing now. I heard he was remade, and is living on the beach in Valinor. I hope he has moved on. I hope he has found happiness with another.

Valar, who am I kidding? I know he has not. I know he sits on the beach looking toward Middle Earth and wondering when I will sail. I know he still loves me. And I know he is waiting for the answer to his last question, ‘Do you hate me then?’

I should have answered ‘No, I still love you.’

Five little words. Will they remain forever unsaid?