Contrary to popular belief, Glorfindel and Erestor have not always been friends.
They are too different, in every aspect of the word, to get along.
Glorfindel is the Golden Lord, Balrog Slayer, and Hero of Gondolin. He walks with the grace of Manwe, brings joy to the healing halls of Imaldris. Where he goes, life follows, flowers bloom at his feet and the sun shines bright above him.
He is talkative and social, a friend to all, and a beacon of light and hope for the people of Imaldris—for the people of Middle Earth. People sing at his arrival , and hold feast in his honor.
Erestor is the exact opposite.
He is dark in spirit, sickly and pale. There are no songs or ballads sung of the silent chief councilor, only mournful laments and hateful sneers. Where he walks, wallows follow, and the souls of his victims cling to his mind like beggars to coins.
He is the murderer, the Kinslayer. He limps with Mando’s breathing down his back, and with Melkor sitting on his shoulder. He brings sadness to halls of Rivendell. Brings agony and anger.
His only friend is Elrond, if he doesn’t count the books.
And Elrond teams them together for that very reason.
So that Erestor can be forgiven, and so that he can allow a sliver of happiness into his life.
So that Glorfindel could hurt, so that he could lose his “happy” front, and so that he could feel.
It isn’t easy, sorting out their differences, and they understand very little of why they have been made to work together.
Why does Erestor have to work with a man who hates everything he is, and why must Glorfindel be civil to a Kinslayer (though the word Kinslayer never makes it out of his mouth, not when Elrond looks at him with a raised, irritated eyebrow).
As expected, their friendship starts slowly.
It’s nothing but long stretches of silence while they pour over reports, or grunts as Glorfindel hands an inkwell to Erestor.
Things change when Erestor comes to work with his sleeves rolled, and Glorfindel sees the marks—the scars. And he asks, silently, if the councilor did those himself, and Erestor tells him yes.
When Glorfindel shies away from the fire light, tugging his hair instinctively, Erestor asks if it is the Balrog, and slowly, the Slayer nods.
A wall is breached, and normality is established soon after. They talk about their time in Valinor, talk about their love for Middle Earth, for the people—for Elrond.
Erestor, in his tales, brings with him a humanity to the Feanorians that Glorfindel never thought existed (which is only reinforced by Elrond who casually passes by, never missing the chance to sneak in certain quirks and ticks the brothers had, and how he loved them all the more for it).
In response, Glorfindel speaks of Gondolin—of its hush-hush society, of the threat of death that hung over their heads had they dared to leave. Of the ruling family that walked with their noses in the air. He regrets what he didn’t to do save it though—what he didn’t do to save Maeglin.
Never did Glorfindel expect the Kinslayers and their host to be human. Never did Erestor expect the people of Gondolin to be monsters.
Another wall is breached.
Glorfindel makes himself at home in the library, and it becomes his hide away when he can no longer put on his joyful mask.
At the same time, Glorfindel helps Erestor mingle back into Elven society.
Together they heal each other, together they are there for each other, and over the years, their friendship only strengthens.
