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In an immortal life, how long is ‘temporary’? That, Glorfindel would like to know.
Lord Elrond had promised him the impairment would be temporary. The wound had the potential to be fatal, and yet by grace and skill had only maimed. Only.
Could anything be suffered so long as it was temporary? Glorfindel was also interested in knowing that.
Cool wind brushed his skin, but in his eyes the caress felt like claws scraping across his flesh. He hissed through his teeth and bore it, feeling the sting while knowing it was only temporary. The wind felt good in his lungs, anyhow. The air in the Halls of Healing wasn’t nearly as filling or fresh-tasting as the breeze upon the balcony.
The sun was out in force, and though he could not see it he could feel its touch upon his skin. He could be grateful that light did not need to be seen to be known.
He thought briefly of never seeing the sun again and his breath caught in his throat. He released it again in a shuddery sigh. Temporary.
“Glorfindel.”
The voice that called him carried in from the room behind him. His ‘sick room’, it had served as.
Glorfindel settled deeper into his chair and tied any response behind his lips. Footsteps reached the door to the hall.
“Glorfindel.”
He gripped the sides of his chair and, silently, shifted both it and himself a handful of centimeters to the left. A knock resounded, but it was gentle. In case whoever was in the room had managed to grasp a scrap of sleep.
A few seconds passed, then the door opened.
“Mellon nin? ” He could hear Erestor step lightly through the threshold, then practically heard him do a double take. “Glorfindel!”
From Glorfindel’s chest, a giggle fought to burst through.
“Glorfindel! Damn you, not again.” The last four words were muttered with righteous indignation.
Glorfindel counted three seconds, then opened his mouth and called, “Out here, Erestor.”
He made sure he had an impish smile on his face when Erestor stormed through the room and ripped open the curtains to the balcony. He heard more than a little relief, and more than a little irritation, in Erestor’s huff.
“Good morning, Glorfindel,” Erestor bit out. “Wouldn’t you like some help out of bed?”
Glorfindel chuckled a little harder. “Certainly, if you’re offering.”
“You’re going to earn yourself another bruise.”
“I’ve been in this room for three days, perhaps I should be offended that you think I don’t have the place memorized.”
“Unless I’ve moved the footstools.”
Glorfindel tilted his head back and glazed his sightless eyes over where he knew Erestor’s face would be. “Did you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I’m safe.” Glorfindel planted his hands on his knees and rose from his comfortable chair, ignoring Erestor stepping in closer. He held up his hand. “Please. In case you’ve moved a footstool in my path.”
Erestor grabbed his offered hand and led him off the balcony.
“What time is it?” Glorfindel asked as he was brought back into the room.
“Just before breakfast,” Erestor replied. They stopped at the foot of the bed, by Glorfindel’s guess. “Elrond’s interested in moving you back into our rooms.”
“Oh?” Glorfindel perked up.
Erestor made a noise that sounded smug. “I hoped that would lift your spirits.”
Glorfindel would have rolled his eyes if the movement didn’t cause striking pain.“My spirits don’t need lifting.”
“I presume that’s why you’re hiding on the balcony.” Erestor was moving around the room as he said this, first to the standing armoire in the corner, then back to the balcony to draw the heavy curtains. It made no difference in the light in the room once he did.
Glorfindel snorted. “I was also not hiding.”
“No. Merely sitting intentionally out of view in silence.” A pile of fine fabric was shoved into his hands. “If you run off again I’m going to tell Lord Elrond you’re feverish at night.”
The fabric stack unfurled in Glorfindel’s hands into a robe. He did not know what color it was.
Temporary. Only temporary.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would do it in a heartbeat. I was the one who disagreed that you were ready to be moved. The injury is still too new.”
“Blessed am I that you are not my healer!” Glorfindel tossed the robes Erestor had handed him on the bed behind him and began to unbutton his nightshirt. “How do I look?”
Erestor was nearby, he sensed, and approached. He left about a meter of space between them. For a moment, neither spoke.
“Tor?”
“Healed,” Erestor said in an oddly tight tone. “Fantastic, really, save for your eyes.”
Glorfindel had to resist touching them, feeling that even the skin around them was too tender to graze. “Am I allowed to know how they look now?”
Seven days ago, there had been a skirmish with orcs in the HInterlands. A rogue band, maybe, but a pox regardless. Glorfindel of course had insisted upon being at the helm of the riders sent out. The trip was productive, if the desired production was orc blood. And it was. But it was possible to kill a thousand orcs and still not be infallible when confronting the thousand and first.
From what he’d been told, this thousand and first orc wielded a rusted and serrated blade. A ragged red line bridged across Glorfindel’s nose, healed quite miraculously from what ought to have been a filthy scalping.
Right across the eyes. Glorfindel hadn’t been awake but five days now, and the first two were spent in pain. On his first day of lucidity, he recalled that he opened his eyes and saw nothing and felt only fire and tasted only miasma. He’d begged for a light, then for a mirror, and resorted to pleading with Elrond to describe the injuries so he’d at least know why he was in so much pain. He’d been refused.
Now that Glorfindel was not only awake but ambulatory he had been making it Erestor’s problem, though his vision had yet to return. Aside from being able to feel the bump of the gash across his nose bridge, he had no knowledge of the progress of his injuries.
“The scar is healing quite well,” Erestor remarked with some hesitation.
Glorfindel manipulated his arms through the sleeves of his robes and at once Erestor jumped in to adjust it.
Glorfindel stood still as Erestor adjusted his robes, fighting the urge to swat away the helping hands. He knew Erestor meant well, but each touch felt like a bit of salt in the wound.
"There," Erestor said, stepping back. "You look presentable enough for breakfast."
"Only presentable?" Glorfindel forced a smile. "Is the scar so bad the clothes can’t save it?"
Erestor was silent. Glorfindel imagined the look that must be creasing his friend's brow and felt a pang of guilt. He reached out, his hand finding Erestor's arm after a moment of groping.
"I’m joking, mellon. Thank you for the help."
"Of course," Erestor replied, his voice softer now. "Shall we go to the dining hall?"
Glorfindel nodded, allowing Erestor to guide him. As they walked, he concentrated on memorizing the path, counting steps and noting turns. If he could just learn the layout well enough, perhaps he wouldn't need to rely on Erestor so much to lead him.
The dining hall buzzed with quiet conversation as they entered. Glorfindel felt the weight of unseen gazes upon him. He imagined the pity in their eyes and he straightened his posture, determined to appear as composed as ever.
Erestor led him to a seat, describing the table's layout and the food available. Glorfindel listened, grateful for the information but chafing at the necessity of it.
"The porridge is just to your right," Erestor explained. "And there's fresh fruit in a bowl at your ten o'clock."
Glorfindel reached for the spoon, his fingers fumbling slightly before finding it. He dipped it into what he hoped was the porridge bowl, bringing it to his mouth carefully. The warm, familiar taste was a small comfort.
As he ate, he listened to the conversations around him, piecing together the goings-on in Imladris that he'd missed during his convalescence. Elrond's voice carried from nearby, discussing trade agreements with visiting dignitaries. Glorfindel longed to join in, to feel useful again.
"Erestor," he said quietly, "what's on your agenda for today?"
"I have some correspondence to attend to," Erestor replied. "And a meeting with Lord Elrond this afternoon about the upcoming festival."
Glorfindel nodded, an idea forming. "Perhaps I could assist you with the correspondence? My ears still work, after all. I could listen and offer advice."
There was a pause before Erestor answered, his tone cautious. "If you feel up to it, that would be welcome. But Glorfindel, you needn't push yourself. Your recovery is what's important now."
"I'm not an invalid," Glorfindel snapped, then immediately regretted his harsh tone. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Forgive me. I just...I need to feel useful, Erestor."
A warm hand covered his own. "I understand," Erestor said softly. "Very well, we'll work on the correspondence together after breakfast."
The rest of the meal passed in relative silence. As they stood to leave, Glorfindel reached for Erestor's arm, only to misjudge the distance and knock over a goblet. The clatter seemed deafening in the sudden hush that fell over the hall.
"It's fine, it's fine," Erestor said quickly, his voice tight as he cleaned up the spill. Glorfindel stood frozen, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"Perhaps we should return to our rooms," Erestor suggested gently. "We can work there."
Glorfindel nodded mutely, allowing Erestor to guide him out of the dining hall. As they walked, he could hear the whispers starting up behind them, and his grip on Erestor's arm tightened.
Back in their rooms, Glorfindel sank into a chair, his head in his hands. "This is intolerable," he muttered.
"It will get easier," Erestor said, his voice closer than Glorfindel expected. He felt the brush of Erestor's robes as his friend came beside him. "You must be patient with yourself, mellon nin."
Glorfindel laughed bitterly. "Patience has never been my strongest suit, as you well know."
"Then it's fortunate you have me to be patient for both of us," Erestor replied, a smile in his voice. "Now, shall we begin with those letters?"
For the next few hours, Erestor read aloud various correspondences, and Glorfindel offered his insights. It felt good to be engaging his mind again, to be of some use. But as the morning wore on, Glorfindel found his concentration wavering, a dull ache building behind his eyes.
"Glorfindel?" Erestor's voice cut through the fog of pain. "Are you alright?"
"Just...tired," Glorfindel admitted reluctantly. "Perhaps we should continue this later."
"Of course," Erestor said, and Glorfindel heard the rustle of parchment being set aside. "Why don't you rest? I'll return after my meeting with Lord Elrond."
Glorfindel nodded, allowing Erestor to help him to the bed. As he settled in, he felt Erestor's hand briefly touch his shoulder.
"Rest well, Fin. Please, don’t go anywhere without assistance," Erestor said softly before departing.
Left alone with his thoughts, Glorfindel found sleep elusive. He tossed and turned, frustrated by his inability to find a comfortable position and the disorientation of the darkness every time he opened his eyes. Eventually, he drifted into a fitful slumber.
He awoke some time later, disoriented and with a pressing need. For a moment, he forgot his condition and opened his eyes, only to be met with the same impenetrable darkness. Panic clawed at his throat before he remembered.
Temporary, he reminded himself. This is only temporary.
Glorfindel sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He knew the layout of his rooms well, having spent centuries here. Surely, he could make it to the adjoining washroom without assistance.
He stood carefully, one hand outstretched as he took tentative steps forward. Three steps, then turn right, he thought, recalling the path. But as he turned, his foot caught on something- a rug, perhaps, or a damn misplaced footstool- and he stumbled.
Glorfindel threw out his hands to break his fall, but misjudged the distance to the floor. He landed hard, pain shooting through his wrists and a cry escaping his lips as his head struck something solid.
Temporary. Temporary. Damn temporary.
For a moment, he lay there, dazed and hurting. Then, to his mortification, he heard the door burst open.
"Glorfindel!" Erestor's voice was thick with panic. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
Gentle hands helped him sit up, probing for injuries. Glorfindel winced as Erestor's fingers found a tender spot on his forehead.
"I'm fine," he insisted, though his voice wavered. "I just...I needed to use the washroom. I thought I could manage."
Erestor's hands stilled. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully controlled. "You should have called for help. What if you'd been seriously injured?"
"I am not a child, Erestor," Glorfindel snapped, pulling away from his friend's touch. "I should be able to perform such a simple task without supervision."
There was a long pause, and when Erestor spoke again, his voice was tight with an emotion Glorfindel couldn't quite identify. "No, you're not a child. You're my dearest friend, and you're hurt. Can you not understand how it pains me to see you struggle? To know that you're hurting and I can do so little to help?"
Glorfindel's anger deflated, replaced by a wave of shame. "Erestor, I—"
"No," Erestor cut him off, his voice breaking slightly. "You don't understand. When they brought you back, when I saw you lying there so still, I thought-" He broke off, and Glorfindel heard him take a shuddering breath. "I thought I'd lost you. And now, to see you in pain, to see you struggling...it terrifies me, Glorfindel. The thought that this might be permanent, that you might never-"
Erestor's voice cracked, and Glorfindel heard a muffled sob. Without thinking, he reached out, his hand finding Erestor's shoulder. He pulled his friend close, feeling Erestor's body shake with suppressed tears.
"Oh, mellon nin," Glorfindel murmured, his own eyes stinging. "I'm sorry. I've been so caught up in my own frustration, I didn't consider how this was affecting you."
Erestor's arms wrapped around him tightly, shaking him. "I don’t want you to apologize for anything. You deserve to feel however you’d like to feel about this, and damn how I feel about it. I feel selfish even saying this. I've been trying to be strong for you," he admitted, his voice muffled against Glorfindel's shoulder. "But the truth is, I'm scared. I'm scared for you, and I'm scared of a world where you can't see the beauty in it anymore."
Glorfindel stroked Erestor's back soothingly, his heart aching at his friend's pain. "The world is still beautiful, Erestor," he said softly. "I may not be able to see it right now, but I can feel it. In the warmth of the sun, in the song of the birds...in the kindness of a dear friend who puts up with my stubbornness and occasional bouts of idiocy."
Erestor gave a watery chuckle at that. Glorfindel felt Erestor shift closer, and then a warm hand cupped his cheek. The touch was so tender, so intimate, that Glorfindel found himself leaning into it without thought.
"Promise me you'll be more careful," Erestor said, his voice still thick with emotion. "Promise me you'll ask for help when you need it. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."
Glorfindel covered Erestor's hand with his own, a lump forming in his throat. "I promise," he said solemnly. "And...thank you, Erestor. For putting up with me."
“Glorfindel, it is my pleasure to put up with you. I would do it every day of my life with gladness and singing.”
They sat there for a moment longer, the air between them charged with something Glorfindel couldn't quite name. Then Erestor cleared his throat, his hand slipping away. "Well, then. Shall we get you to the washroom?"
Glorfindel chuckled, allowing Erestor to help him to his feet. "Yes, I think that would be wise."
As the days passed, Glorfindel found himself slowly adjusting to his temporary condition. He learned to rely more on his other senses, to ask for help when he needed it (though it still chapped him at times), and to find new ways to be useful.
Erestor, true to his word, remained a constant presence. He read to Glorfindel in the evenings, describing the illustrations in ancient tomes or reciting poetry. Sometimes, they would simply sit in companionable silence, Erestor working on his correspondence while Glorfindel listened to the sounds of the quill scratching on parchment.
One evening, as Erestor read aloud from a collection of ancient love poems, Glorfindel found himself less focused on the words and more on the timbre of Erestor's voice, the way it seemed to caress each syllable. He wondered, not for the first time, what it might be like to have those words directed at him, to be the subject of such tender verses.
"Glorfindel?" Erestor's voice cut through his reverie. "Are you still awake?"
"Yes," Glorfindel replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "Just lost in thought. The poem...it's beautiful."
"It is," Erestor agreed, and Glorfindel thought he detected a note of wistfulness in his voice. "It speaks of a love that endures through ages, through trials and tribulations. A love that sees beyond the physical, to the very heart of a person."
Glorfindel's breath caught in his throat. "Erestor," he began, his heart pounding, but before he could continue, Erestor stood abruptly.
"It's getting late," he said, his voice suddenly brisk. "We should both get some rest."
Glorfindel nodded, swallowing his words. As Erestor helped him to bed, he couldn't help but wonder if he had imagined the lingering touch of Erestor's hand on his arm.
One evening, about two weeks after the incident, Erestor suggested a walk in the gardens. "The air will do you good," he insisted, "and the flowers are in full bloom. I can describe them to you."
Glorfindel agreed, curious about experiencing the familiar gardens in a new way. As they strolled along the paths, Erestor's arm linked with his, Glorfindel found himself hyper-aware of every sensation: the crunch of gravel under his feet, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers, the warmth of Erestor's body close to his, the smell of him.
"There's a bench just ahead," Erestor said. "Would you like to sit for a while?"
Glorfindel nodded, allowing Erestor to guide him to the seat. As they sat, he felt something being pressed into his hands. "What's this?"
"A book," Erestor replied, a smile in his voice. "I thought...well, I thought perhaps it might please you for me to read to you out here. Somewhere besides your bedroom."
A lump formed in Glorfindel's throat. "I would like that very much," he said softly.
Erestor began to read, his rich voice painting pictures in Glorfindel's mind. It was an old elvish epic, lines of poetry meandering with adventure and romance, of brave deeds and tender moments. As Erestor read, Glorfindel found himself leaning closer, drawn in by the story and the soothing cadence of his friend's voice. He rested his head on Erestor’s shoulder.
The sun was setting as Erestor finished the chapter, its warmth fading from Glorfindel's skin. "It's getting late," Erestor said, closing the book. "We should head back."
But Glorfindel was reluctant to move. This moment felt...significant, somehow. He looked towards where Erestor’s face was, wishing desperately that he could see his expression. How the light of the setting sun would make the profile of his face glow with orange and pink. "Erestor," he said softly, "Would you describe the sunset to me?"
There was a pause, and then Erestor's voice came, low and gentle. "It's beautiful," he began. "The sky is awash with color. Brilliant oranges and pinks streak across the horizon, fading into deep purples and blues. The clouds are lined with gold, as if Anar herself had painted their edges. And the trees...their leaves seem to glow in the fading light, each one a tiny flame."
As Erestor spoke, Glorfindel felt something shift within him. The beauty Erestor described, the care in his voice as he painted this picture for Glorfindel's benefit...it stirred something.
Without thinking, Glorfindel reached out, his hand finding Erestor's cheek. He felt Erestor's breath catch, but his friend didn't pull away.
"Glorfindel?" Erestor's voice was barely above a whisper.
“Erestor,” Glorfindel muttered. “Would you describe me? What do you see when you look at me?”
For a moment, Erestor was silent, and Glorfindel could hear the soft catch in his breath. When he spoke, his voice was low and filled with an emotion Glorfindel had never heard from him before.
"What do I see when I look at you, Glorfindel?" Erestor began, his words careful and measured. "I see strength, not just in your body, but in your spirit. Even now, though your world is dark, you shine with an inner light that no injury could ever dim."
Erestor's hand came up to cover Glorfindel's where it rested on his cheek. "I see golden hair that catches the light of the setting sun, turning it to molten gold. I see eyes that, even clouded now, still hold the memory of summer skies."
Histouch reached Glorfindel’s cheek and landed there, thumb brushing gently over Glorfindel's cheekbone. "I see the scar that crosses your face. Pink now, though it used to be red. It doesn't mar your beauty, Glorfindel. It only adds to it. I look at it and I see your strength."
Erestor's voice grew softer, more intimate. His thumb skated lower to brush at the corner of his lips. "I see a mouth that curves into a smile that can light up a moonless sky, and which has said some of the most infuriating and beautiful things my ears have ever heard. I see hands that are strong enough to wield a sword, yet gentle enough to tend to the most delicate of flowers."
He paused, and Glorfindel could hear him swallow hard before continuing. "But more than what I see, Glorfindel, I feel. I feel warm in your presence. I feel as though nothing could ever hurt me. I feel proud, and grieved, and…and…"
Erestor's voice trailed off, and Glorfindel could sense the tension in him, as if he was on the brink of saying something more, something that might change everything between them.
Glorfindel's heart was pounding, his breath shallow. The world seemed to narrow down to this moment, to the warmth of Erestor's skin under his palm, to the gentle caress of Erestor's thumb on his cheek, to the words hanging unspoken between them.
“And?”
“And I feel…” Another swallow. “I feel as though you could ask anything of me and there is very little I wouldn’t readily give to you. I feel helpless when I see your face. It tears my soul to pieces. I feel as though I’m madly in love with you. In every year I’ve been alive there’s never been another so entrenched in my heart as you are.”
"Erestor," Glorfindel murmured, "May I...may I kiss you?"
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, "Yes, please," Erestor breathed.
Glorfindel leaned in slowly, his other hand coming up to cup Erestor's face. He was glad to hit the mark, and not put his thumb in his eye. Their lips met softly, tentatively at first, then with growing passion. Glorfindel poured all his gratitude, all his affection, all the unspoken feelings of so many years into the kiss.
Erestor's hands moved to tangle in Glorfindel's hair, pulling him closer. Glorfindel responded in kind, one hand sliding to the nape of Erestor's neck, the other resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. The world around them faded away, leaving only the sensation of each other's touch, the sound of their mingled breath, the taste of centuries of unspoken longing finally given voice.
Their lips moved against one another, a sweet little sound popping out of Erestor’s lips as he shifted even closer, practically in Glorfindel’s lap now. Glorfindel had never been more glad that you didn’t need eyes to kiss, though he wished regardless that he could see how Erestor’s face looked when they parted. How the glow of the sunset would be matched by the flush of his cheeks and how his lips would be red and damp.
When they finally parted, both breathing heavily, Glorfindel kept his eyes closed, savoring the moment. He rested his forehead against Erestor's, unwilling to let go just yet.
"Glorfindel," Erestor whispered, his voice filled with wonder and a hint of uncertainty. "I...I've wanted this for so long. But are you sure? I don't want you to feel-"
Glorfindel silenced him with another soft kiss. "Erestor, meleth nin," he murmured against his lips, "I have never been more sure of anything in my life. You’ve been with me in everything, and I wish for you to be there forever. I must have been blind to see how much I craved your presence even before this."
Erestor chuckled softly at the unintentional pun, and Glorfindel felt the vibration of it against his chest. "And here I thought I was being subtle all these years," Erestor said, a smile in his voice.
"Oh, you were," Glorfindel assured him, grinning. "I'm just exceptionally oblivious. It took losing my sight to truly see you, it seems."
They sat there for a while longer, trading soft kisses, languishing in each other’s presence. As the evening air grew cooler, Erestor pulled away.
"We should head back," he said, though he seemed very reluctant. "It's getting chilly, and I don't want you catching a cold on top of everything else."
Glorfindel nodded, but made no move to stand. Instead, he took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes.
At first, there was only the usual darkness. But then...a flicker. A hint of warmth. Gradually, shapes began to form, hazy and indistinct but undeniably there.
"Erestor," Glorfindel gasped, his heart racing. "Erestor, I...I think I can see something."
Erestor's hands grasped his, squeezing tightly. "What? What can you see?"
"It's...it's still very blurry," Glorfindel said, blinking rapidly, eyes darting. "But I can see light. And shapes. I can see the outline of the trees against the sky."
He looked back towards Erestor, and though he couldn't make out his friend's features, he could see the general shape of his face, the dark fall of his hair. "I can see you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Erestor made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. "Oh, Glorfindel," he said, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Oh, thank the Valar."
“I can see you,” Glorfindel whispered, gripping Erestor back just as tightly.
Erestor pulled back cupped Glorfindel's face in his hands, seeming to study him intently.
"Your eyes," he said softly, "They're focusing. Following movement. Oh, Glorfindel, this is wonderful. We must tell Lord Elrond at once."
Glorfindel nodded, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the blurry outline of Erestor's face. "In a moment," he said. "I just...I want to look at you a little longer."
Erestor's thumb brushed over his cheek, wiping away a tear Glorfindel hadn't realized he'd shed. "We have all the time in the world, meleth nin," Erestor murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."
In an immortal life, how long is ‘temporary’? As it turned out, it felt like barely a second.
As the weeks droned on, Glorfindel's sight came back in bits. Slow influxes of light, then shapes, and soon color returned. But with Erestor he found that a week passed like a day, and a day like an hour. He found himself falling even deeper in love with Erestor, if such a thing were possible. He rediscovered the world through Erestor's eyes, marveling at colors and textures as they were described to him as if seeing them for the first time. And in turn, he watched as Erestor's face lit up with joy at each new milestone in his recovery.
The funniest part of the aftermath of the garden was how little everything changed. He and Erestor’s routines were barely interrupted, as they were already spending as much time as they possibly could by each other’s sides.
What did change were the small moments. The gaps in the hours, where they only had each other for company. Erestor’s touches liked to linger now. He liked to come up behind Glorfindel and hug his arms around his waist, tucking his nose into the side of his neck. He liked to lean in close to Glorfindel’s ear and describe all the little things that he hadn’t been before, such as the color of the clothes he chose to wear that day or how much he enjoyed the way Glorfindel’s trousers hung on his hips.
Glorfindel, in turn, loved to monopolize Erestor's time. Where once he resisted Erestor's guiding hand, he now demanded it at every opportunity, reveling in the closeness it afforded them. He would often ask Erestor to describe the most mundane things, not because he couldn't see them himself as his vision improved, but because he loved the way Erestor's voice softened when he spoke just for him.
Their evenings took on a new rhythm. Where once they sat in companionable silence, now they found themselves drawn together, limbs entangled as they shared the same chair in front of the fire. Erestor would read aloud as before, but now his free hand would absently card through Glorfindel's hair, sending pleasant shivers down his spine.
As Glorfindel's sight returned more fully, he found himself captivated by the little things he'd never noticed before– or perhaps had never allowed himself to examine. The way Erestor's brow furrowed in concentration as he pored over documents, the elegant sweep of his hand as he wrote, the soft smile that played on his lips when he caught Glorfindel watching him.
Whatever things were temporary passed quickly, here in a moment, gone in the next. With Erestor, though…
Erestor felt permanent.