thegreatmcmidget:

Part 1 of a drabble that I wrote at like eleven last night

He remembers when his name wasn’t Erestor, chief councillor of Imladris. From Before. When his name was feared by Elves and Orcs alike. When the Enemy would flee from the sight of his very face. When he was a brother, a son, an uncle, a nephew and a cousin.

Now, almost nobody fears him. Erestor rather likes that. He never wanted to be feared, hated, abhorred. That was never him. Now the only people who fear him are those who make mistakes. One of the few things from Before that remains in him is an intolerance for mistakes. His father – his fiery, caring, fierce, loyal, rash, foolish father – had instilled that in him.

“Mistakes are inexcusable,” he remembers his father saying from across his anvil. He hardly remembers what he had done but he remembers the look that Atar had on his face. It was similar to how Atar looked at his brothers – no, half, they were always his half-brothers. “It is below our station to make mistakes.”

Everyone used to say that he favored his mother. With her hair, nose and coloring. He remembers Finno – bright, happy, brave, valiant Finno who Erestor had loved like no other – tugging a curl straight bemoaning his own plain dark hair. Erestor remembers laughing and remarking that that must be why he braided gold ribbons into his hair, earning a playful shove in response. But that was Before.

Now no one says that to Erestor – Erestor with his dark curls and dark eyes. No one knows what Erestor’s parents looked like. As far as anyone cares, his parents died at Alqualondë. That usually stops others from asking more questions.

There is no way he would be Teleri. One look and they know he’s a Noldo. And since none of those who fought for Fingolfin and Finarfin know him that leaves only one reason why. He never denies his role in the Kinslayings. It is his burden to bear. But it means he’s lonely. No one likes talking to a former Fëanorian supporter. Even in Imladris, a haven made up of refugees and lost souls, very few of the inhabitants wore an eight pointed star into battle. The few that did, Erestor makes a point of  avoiding. It would do no good for them to spoil his new life.

It was surprisingly easy to become Erestor. He’s lucky he had cruel cousins who gave him a cruel moniker. Atar used to brag that his eldest was going to be tall. He was tall – as an Elfling. He was the second shortest of his brothers. Now he’s the shortest. Even Morgoth and his racks couldn’t do much for his height. Haradrim wash from the south for his distinctive hair. He has no idea how Elrond – wise, believing, caring Elrond who never gave up on him even when he begged for it – gets it delivered in directly to Erestor, but he doesn’t complain. Elrond’s done too much and risked too much for him. He always wears black robes and black gloves over the silver hand Telpe – little Telpe who had dreams of becoming the greatest smith and achieved them, only to be betrayed by one he trusted – made for him ages ago. He can’t stand to wear the red and gold and blue that he used to wear. When he looks in the mirror he’s reminded of Moryo – fierce, angry, trusting, brilliant, brash Moryo with his red-brown hair and red face – who always wore black but at least he had hints of red and gold in the sleeves. Erestor just wears black and grey. Glorfindel once remarked that it wouldn’t kill him to change his color scheme once every thousand years or so. The look Erestor gave him could have frozen a balrog.

He still doesn’t understand why Glorfindel likes him. Elrond swore that no one knows about Erestor’s origin other than Elros – young, brave, dead, bold Elros who he loved as a son, Telpe and himself.

Glorfindel has no reason to like Erestor. Glorfindel is a hero, a balrog-slayer who died defending Idril and her human husband and the rest of Gondolin, died and returned from the Halls of Mandos. He crossed the Helcaraxë because of Atar’s actions and lost his king’s brother at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. He has no reason to like a former supporter of the Sons of Fëanor whose only friend is Elrond.

Yet …

He makes an effort to talk to Erestor and to find out more about him. It doesn’t matter to him about who Erestor was, what Erestor did or didn’t do. He says he enjoys Erestor’s company but that’s a lie. Even Before, very few people enjoyed his company. Most of them are now dead.

Glorfindel asked once why he always wore gloves even in the summer heat. Erestor told him that he badly burnt his hands during the War of the Wrath and even with the skill of Elrond they’re still scarred. It’s not a complete lie. He doesn’t mention that if he took them off, someone might put it together.

After all, how many of the Noldor are missing their right hand?

Interesting concept.