Chapter summary: Glorfindel returns from patrol changed, and Erestor must get to the bottom of why.

When Glorfindel returned from patrol, even Erestor could not help but stare at him.

There was a gauze wrapped around his head, utterly drenched red on one side with an ever-growing stain. Erestor could not remember the last time that Glorfindel had returned home hurt. But stranger still was his hair. When he had left, it had been down to his hips. Now it was haphazardly chopped, reaching nearly to the bottom of his shoulder blades on one side; on the other, the curls dangled at the level of his ear.

"Glorfindel?" Erestor said, and he could hear the shock in his own voice. Glorfindel flinched. His gaze when it landed on Erestor was sharp and guarded.

"Are you all right?" Erestor searched Glorfindel's face for a sign of his feelings, but there was nothing to be seen; Glorfindel was usually open, but when he closed his heart it was absolute, and he was utterly unreadable now.

Glorfindel glanced back to the rest of the patrol, who were slowly making their way into the House to report to Elrond.

"I have to go with them," he said dully.

"You're hurt," Erestor pointed out. "Protocol would have you go to the healers first."

"It's nothing." By the amount of blood on the bandage, Erestor could tell that it was most certainly not nothing. The bloodstain had grown noticeably, even in the few short minutes since Glorfindel's return.

"Don't lie," Erestor said. His eyes narrowed.

Glorfindel's jaw clenched, and he looked away.

"It's still bleeding—" Erestor began.

"Would you just leave it?" Glorfindel snapped, and suddenly his blazing eyes were on Erestor again. "I don't need help."

Erestor's chest tightened. His instinct was to snap a retort for the harsh words, and already his tongue itched with the desire to speak hurtful things.

But that would do neither of them any good.

He looked up at Glorfindel, who looked more like a caged animal in this moment than anything else, with his bared teeth and the terrible tension in his shoulders. Erestor felt a swell of pity. He cleaned his fist and forced his tone to level and calm.

"I'll come see you when you're done reporting," he said. "Okay?"

Glorfindel turned and followed his patrolmen without a word, and Erestor watched him go.

Glorfindel was not happy when Elrond told him he would need to get his ear stitched up, even though he had expected it from the amount of blood. He was not reluctant because it would hurt—though it would, for his ears were sensitive—but because the thought of anyone staying that close to him for any length of time when he was so on edge made him want to vomit.

Glorfindel was not sure how he convinced Elrond to let him stitch it up himself. But here he was, sitting in front of the mirror, a needle and thread by his side as he unwound the bloodied bandage from his head.

There was a knock at the door. Glorfindel flinched away just as Erestor came in, and it made his ear throb.

"I brought tea…" Erestor said. His eyes went wide as he took in the sheer amount of blood that was streaming down Glorfindel's neck now that there was no bandage to hold it in.

"What's happened?" he demanded. His hand raised and Glorfindel flinched back, one arm coming up in front of his face as he turned sharply away. He could feel himself beginning to tremble, and his fists were clenched tightly.

Glorfindel heard Erestor step back. Slowly, Glorfindel drew himself up and out of his protective stance, though he was still shaking.

"I'm sorry," Glorfindel said. He choked on the words, and his face burned. "I—I need to stitch my ear. You will not want to watch."

"Let me see."

"You do not want to see—Erestor, stop. All right? Please just let me do this. Please."

Erestor drew away. Glorfindel at last turned back to the mirror, taking a long breath to steady his hand ere he took up the needle.

His ear was still bleeding profusely; it was cut down the side and across the top, and the tip was missing completely. It was replaced by a harsh, flat edge of bloodied flesh. The tip would grow back, but the sight of it still made Glorfindel's eyes water.

He pressed the wound closed and pressed the needle through, over and over. It hurt, but he stayed steady and still even as his tears fell and blurred his vision.

When he was done, he put the needle over the fire to sterilize it again and sat down on the couch. Erestor was pouring tea for him, and he pressed it into Glorfindel's hands. They sat there in silence until Glorfindel's cup was half-empty.

"Will you please tell me what happened?" Erestor said softly. "How could anything get close enough to hurt you like that?"

"They didn't. You know me better than that." Glorfindel managed a small smile.

"Then how…"

"I did this."

Erestor stiffened. His brows came close over his eyes.

"What—why?"

"An orc grabbed my hair. Tried to pull me back on its blade." The memory made him shudder. "I panicked."

Erestor was quiet for a long moment. His eyes were as unreadable as always as they drifted across Glorfindel's face to his ear, and then to his haphazardly-cut hair. Glorfindel's throat tightened.

"That's why you've been so jumpy," Erestor said. Glorfindel nodded, and after a moment he turned his face away.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier," he said quietly. "I was wrapped up in it."

"It's all right," Erestor said, but Glorfindel knew it was not.

"Do you want…" Erestor's voice drifted off, and his gaze was fixed on Glorfindel's face, apparently not content with his earlier examination. Glorfindel stayed still until Erestor drew back to sit more comfortably in his chair and the intensity of his gaze eased.

"Do you want me to cut your hair? It's quite uneven." Glorfindel knew that Erestor was teasing, even though he did not smile.

"Not right now," he said. "I'm still…jumpy, as you put it." He smiled a little. "Maybe tomorrow. Certainly before I leave my room."

"Okay." Erestor said. His gaze was still on Glorfindel, and after a moment Erestor shook his head.

"It's a pity. Did you bring back the hair?"

"I did. For bowstrings," Glorfindel said. Erestor nodded.

"You'd get a pretty price for it if you decided to sell it, you know."

"And what do I need money for?" Glorfindel said, laughing and feel his heart lighten just slightly. "I don't need money. I have shelter and food. I do not take any money from Elrond, even. You know this." Glorfindel had worked for Elrond as his Master of Arms since Imladris' founding, but he had never accepted anything from his lord except lodging and food and clothes when he needed them. He found no joy in riches.

"You could get something nice for yourself," Erestor said, shaking his head and looking quite exasperated. "Some new boots, perhaps; yours are nearly worn through. They could be embroidered, even…"

"If I want boots, I ask for them and Elrond gives me the money. He gives me quite enough for something nice."

"You get the same ones every time!"

"I do not want anything ornate. Only functional, and long-lasting." Glorfindel chuckled at the look of irritation on Erestor's face, for Erestor appreciated material beauty in a way that Glorfindel did not. His love for the material had diminished even further after his rebirth, with the awareness of his task and the fact that everything was temporary.

"You've greatly helped my mood," Glorfindel said as he finished his tea. "Thank you."

Erestor did not smile, but the look in his eyes made Glorfindel nearly as pleased.

Erestor brought Glorfindel his dinner and spent the night sleeping on his couch, for reasons that lingered unspoken between them. Erestor had already been sleeping restlessly out of worry for Glorfindel when that reason was manifest in a loud scream. Erestor shot upright and darted into Glorfindel's bedroom.

"It's all right. Listen to my voice," Erestor whispered, grasping at Glorfindel's trembling fists. Glorfindel was sobbing, shaking, screaming from pain. "You're safe now."

"I d-don't want to d-die," Glorfindel sobbed, looking up at Erestor with wide eyes.

"You're safe. You're safe."

"I don't feel s-safe." It was a moment of utter honesty, unabashed. Glorfindel's cheeks were flushed red, and in the low light his tears shimmered on his face. "I never feel safe."

"Glorfindel." Erestor's heart cracked in two. "Breathe, okay? Breathe. Just focus on that for now."

"Can't stop thinking about it," Glorfindel whispered, but his breathing was beginning to calm. "Did you know that Elrond looks like Turgon? He does, more than I thought he could. And the twins have Earendil's smile." He was rambling, but Erestor let him, because talking seemed to help him calm down.

"It could end in a day. Everyone can die in a day, Erestor. I want to protect everyone, but I—I could die. I don't want to die again." He was calming down, as if the fears had so thoroughly ruined his heart that speaking them aloud was a respite.

"I know they're coming, even when they're not. Every time I think that we have to be safe this time, I remember that I—I thought we were safe." He slumped fully against Erestor's chest, and his voice faded to a wavering breath.

"I thought we were safe."

Erestor released Glorfindel's hands and Glorfindel raised them to cover his face, shuddering once, twice more and then falling still. After a long moment, Glorfindel drew his sleeves over his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Glorfindel whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Erestor said. "It's okay to be afraid."

"It's not okay for me to put it on you to deal with," Glorfindel said. A wet breath shook free from his throat, and he let his hands fall from his face.

"Glorfindel, you must confide in someone. I would be honored if it was me," Erestor said.

"I don't need to confide in anyone," Glorfindel said. "It's my job to not need to confide in anyone."

"You will not be able to do your job if you don't," Erestor said. "Glorfindel, as strong as you may be, the weight of the world is not meant to rest on one man's shoulders. Even if that man is a reborn legend, or a servant of the Valar, or a balrog-slayer. It is too much, even for you. Do you understand me?"

"I can do it," Glorfindel said. His voice was louder now, and he pulled away from Erestor's embrace. "I can. You underestimate me." He stood up, reaching absentmindedly for his hair. He reached on the short side.

Glorfindel paused when he did not find the familiar locks where he expected them. His arm hovered aloft, and in the low light his silhouette was strange and misshapen.

"You're right," Glorfindel admitted after a moment, and he laughed. It was a hollow, broken sound. "As you always are."

"Glorfindel-" Erestor said. Glorfindel interrupted him.

"I'm not who I once was, Erestor. I wish you could have known me then." His hand fell limply to his side.

"I am glad to know you now."

"I am broken now, Erestor, and nothing you can do will fix me. Do you understand that?" Glorfindel's voice was suddenly harsh, and Erestor winced. "Nothing. Comforting me when I am hurt, talking me out of panic—none of it will fix me. These wounds are attached to me, and they will never heal. They are a part of me now."

Erestor stood up, letting a moment pass in silence. He stood by Glorfindel, looking up at his face but not daring to touch him.

"I do not aim to fix you," he said quietly. "I do not comfort you with some lofty goal of being your savior. I want only to be a good friend to you. Have I not done that?"

"You have," Glorfindel said, and as he looked at Erestor his face softened. "Of course you have. I only wish that I could do more for you in return. You have changed me, in a way, and I have done nothing to thank you."

"You have changed me, too," Erestor protested. "Though I suppose perhaps you cannot see it. You have taught me about what matters. I was not so close with Elrond before. I knew him, of course, but I would not have called him my friend—I would not have called anyone my friend. And now I have plenty of people. I have a family. And you softened me enough to give me that."

Glorfindel's eyes were watering, but he smiled.

"I wonder if the me of my previous life would have been friends with the younger you," he said. "I doubt it. It sounds like we were both quite snobby."

"That's not very nice, is it?" Erestor said, but his eyes were twinkling with mirth. Glorfindel laughed, and it was a joyful sound this time. Erestor waited until he had quieted before he spoke again.

"Will you be able to go back to sleep?"

Glorfindel sighed softly as he shook his head. Erestor could tell he was weary.

"Let me cut your hair, then. Unless you want to wait?"

"Now should be fine. I'll try to be calm."

Erestor recognized the trust in the gesture and it touched him. He went to his room to retrieve the hair-scissors (for despite or perhaps because of his vanity, Erestor tended to cut his hair himself). When he came back, Glorfindel was sitting on the bed still.

"Come to a chair so that I can stand behind you," Erestor said. He pulled a chair over by the mirror and Glorfindel came to sit. Erestor watched Glorfindel's eyes move over his haphazard hair and then rise up to Erestor's face.

"It will be quite short, I'm afraid," Erestor said. "Then again, I suppose everyone is used to your changing styles by now." This was not the first time that Glorfindel had abruptly cut his hair, but usually it was done intentionally; he favored an all-or-nothing approach, and when his hair got so long that it dipped below his hips, he would chop it unceremoniously off to above his shoulders.

"I like being unpredictable," Glorfindel said. Erestor scoffed.

"What?" Glorfindel was chuckling at the incredulous look on Erestor's face, but Erestor could tell he was deciding whether or not he should be offended at the expression. "What's that look for?"

"Unpredictable?" Erestor shook his head. "I would argue that you're quite predictable."

"I am not!" Glorfindel said, snorting on a laugh. Erestor put one hand on his shoulder in a gesture to calm down so that his head would stop moving, and at last Erestor began to snip, pulling each curl straight to measure it against the shortest one before he cut it and released it, letting the curl pop back into its shape.

"You are," Erestor said, and his voice was soft. "From the outside, you're the embodiment of your ideals. Selflessness, strength, valor. That makes you quite predictable, I'm afraid."

Glorfindel's face had gone solemn. Erestor was not quite sure why.

"But to those of us who know you better, you are predictable for your softness," Erestor said. "Your kindness. It is not so bad to be predictable. It means you are unfailing."

They drifted into silence and the words hovered between them. The only sound was the soft clipping of the scissors. Erestor worked carefully but efficiently, and he was nearly halfway done.

"I wish I were as good as you say I am," Glorfindel murmured. Erestor kept clipping.

"You are."

Clip. Clip. Clip.

Erestor brushed the cut strands of hair from Glorfindel's shoulders, all of varying lengths. After cutting the longest part, he went back to the other side of him to look at the shorter part and be sure it was all even. As he looked at the stitched mess of Glorfindel's ear, Erestor's face softened and saddened, and in the mirror, he saw Glorfindel's face do the same in turn when he saw Erestor's expression. Glorfindel had always hated to cause him sadness.

After a moment Erestor shook himself and moved to clip the last few strands, pausing to admire his handiwork.

"You're done. You look like a little boy," Erestor said, and Glorfindel laughed. His hair formed a halo about his face and the curls that were once long enough to stay down popped up in some places, tickling his cheeks and cupping his face. Glorfindel looked at himself in the mirror for a moment before he rose and gripped Erestor's forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you," Glorfindel said. Erestor knew he meant it for more than just the haircut.