Title: Touch of Night
Characters: Glorfindel/Ecthelion
Prompt: 35 - He felt as if the whole dark
world was turning upside down.
Word Count: 389
Rating: PG
Summary: Glorfindel has nightmares…
Blood,
fire, death. They wrapped themselves around him and took hold,
refusing to let go, though he fought them with all he had.
He clawed desperately, trying to escape, shouting out his
refusal to give in to the creature that tried to ensnare him.
Yet
it was hopeless and he became more and more entangled the
more he fought, until at last there was nothing left to do
but fall.
With
a thump, Glorfindel hit the bedroom floor, his eyes flying
open as the shock forced the nightmare to release him. He
gasped for breath, hastily pushing away the sheets which clung
to his body like a shroud. Trying to calm himself, he put
his head in his hands, forcing down the bile that rose in
his throat. Outside it was still night and he felt as if the
whole dark world was turning upside down. He dare not close
his eyes though, for fear of the visions returning.
Instead
he rose, lighting all the candles he could find, filling the
room with a soft light. Once that was done he poured a glass
of miruvor and settled into a chair by the window, waiting
for the dawn.
*************
When
at last morning came, he rose and blew out the candles before
washing and dressing. It felt good to bathe, as if the act
of washing his body could cleanse his spirit of the nightmare.
It could not, of course, but for a moment he was able to cling
to the illusion.
It
was with some reluctance that he left his rooms, knowing that
his cries would have woken his neighbours. Sure enough, as
he walked down the hall, he heard the mutterings.
“He
screamed again last night,” he heard a voice say. “He
must have been dreaming of his death again. It is dreadful
that he should suffer so!”
Glorfindel
tried his best to ignore the comments and walked on. There
was no point trying to explain that it was never his death
he saw in his dreams. That was an event he barely remembered.
No, it wasn’t his body he saw entwined with the balrog’s
flames and it wasn’t his own cries he heard echoing
in the night. It wasn’t his body that he saw fall, taken
into the murky depths of death.
Not
his. Never his.
End
So
Many Ways To See You
