Heart hammering hard against my chest, I subconsciously reached for the stray pieces of copper toned hair that hung loose near my ears. Twirling the strands around my finger nervously, I forced the lump that had made it's way inside the back of my throat down with an unsounding gulp. It'd been nearly two years since I'd stepped foot within the walls of Rivendell - so much had changed since the day that I left to join up with the rest of the elven forces that fought to protect Imladris from the wrath of Sauron's army. For better or worse, I had yet to determine. I certainly could not deny the near completeness that I now felt, but before I could afford to allow myself the satisfaction of feeling whole now that I was finally home, I had to first confront Erestor.

Dropping my hand back to it's natural position at my hip, I shrugged the pack that felt ready to fall from my shoulder back to the crook of my neck and took a step. Though hesitant at first, I managed to obtain a steady stride.

As I neared his room where I hoped I would find my old friend, my steps faltered and tears surfaced. Wait, wait, wait! How could I just all of the sudden show up, dressed in next to nothing (rags), with only my bow and rough-sack? Before I could stop the torrent from overtaking my mind, questions that demanded answers suddenly bombarded my cerebral, and my breath hitched. There was no way he'd ever accept an apology from me, not when I said such horrible things upon my departure. No, he would take one look at me and send me away, like a man would a stray dog. Nearly laughing at the irony in the comparison, I grasped for composure over my rampant emotion. Surely I looked crazed.

Wiping a hand across my face to clear it of the falling salted tears, I set my jaw with determination and reached to open the door to his room. Despite the urge I felt to tuck tail and run back to the battlefield where I did not have to face consequences of the past, I took hold of the door knob with a tight grip so that I would not have to suffer the fact that it was shaking and turned it till I heard the soft clicking of the lock give way.  Applying the slightest of pressure, I eased my way in, the whole time sending silent prayers up to the Valar. Not at all sure of my voice, I simply cleared my throat, my eyes downcast and unsearching for his whereabouts within the room. I felt his presence, that was all the conformation that was needed. 

Erestor

Erestor closed his eyes and listened to the rustle of papers being ruffled by a gentle breeze. It was late evening and, had Erestor chosen to look out of his window at that very moment, he would have seen the last rays of the sun sink below the horizon. He knew that he should be resting, recovering from a long day but, for the life of him, he could not bring himself to be torn away from the piles of paperwork he had been slaving over all day. It was for this very reason that, after having been ushered to is room by a concerned Elrond, the dark-haired elf had waited a few minutes before creeping back down the hall to his study, collected the pile of unfinished documents that lay on his desk, and carried them to his room so that he might finish his work in the secrecy of his chambers. Elrond would not have approved of his actions had he known of them but Erestor comforted himself with the knowledge that, should he not complete the paperwork then and there, it would never get done. He had no choice but to go against the elf-lord’s wishes. Erestor would admit that his excuse was perhaps a little contrived but, in all seriousness, he was loathe to leave a day’s work unfinished especially when it had been so close to completion.

There was only one problem; the words which Erestor had to carefully read over and analyse every little detail of were beginning to blur on the page. Every time he cast his gaze over the tightly packed scrawl the words seemed to distort and blur. Erestor knew it was merely because he was both stressed and tired but the fact that he couldn’t do as he was supposed to do meant that he became even more stressed and the words blurred even more. It was a vicious circle that was dangerously close to defeating the stubborn elf.

Perhaps he really should take a few minutes, rest his mind and his eyes.

The winding rustled the paper once again. Erestor opened his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and tucking a stray curl behind his ear before turning his attention back to the page he had been reading for the past hour. The words seemed to melt in front of his eyes, dripping like candlewax down the page and smearing together.

No, a rest would do him no good.

The source of his troubles was something that he could not escape, it would plague his thoughts no matter what he did.

His childhood friend, one of his only friends if he was being truthful, was back in Rivendell. Of course Erestor knew she had returned, it was his duty to know every little happening within the walls of his home and he was hardly likely to let the return of his childhood friend slip his notice. He’d even caught glimpses of her as he had gone about his duties, seen her walking through the halls before he’d slipped into the shadows to avoid her notice. Erestor was no coward but he had no desire to face her; her return was a bittersweet relief. A sweet relief because her return meant that she was alive and, as far as he could glean from a few stolen glances, unharmed. It was bitter because her return meant that he was reminded of all that he lost every times he walked through the halls of Imladris.

Their last words had been anything but kind, each one barbed and carefully crafted in order to cause the most damage.

With a sigh, Erestor rose from his chair.

The paperwork would have to wait for another day.

With a quite swish of his robes Erestor made his way over to his balcony. The garden looked peaceful, as beautiful in the night as it was during the day. Perhaps a walk in the gardens was what he needed, his flowers never failed to bring a smile to his lips, even in the worst of times.

He stood on his balcony, lost in his thoughts, when there was the sound of his door being pushed open pull him from his reverie. The swish of material as someone entered his room. There was no doubting who it was, only one person entered his quarters without knocking.

She cleared her throat.

“Falyon.”

Erestor was rarely lost for words but, for the first time ever, it was all he could bring himself to say.