Tears of Remorse
Summary: Elrond visits Galahad's grave and grieves for the loss of the knight who loved him. By Galahad's grave, he makes a vow...to himself and to Galahad's spirit...that he will spend the rest of his long life atoning for his actions
Warning(s): References to character death; references to abuse
Brief Background: If you've read A Forgiving Touch, you'll have already met Elrond. This fic is set shortly after he kills Galahad and realises the destructive path he’s been on.
I hope you enjoy!
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Rain fell from the sky like tears.
Elrond approached the grave slowly, his steps heavy and his head bowed. A simple stone marked the place where Galahad's body lay, buried deep in the earth where no wild animals would ever disturb his rest. The flowers that surrounded the stone had been carefully tended and their scent wafted towards Elrond. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was back in his chambers...Galahad tending to the flowers he'd picked and left to bring some small measure of beauty to Elrond's rooms.
Slowly, Elrond knelt next to the grave, careful to avoid the foliage that grew where he knew the knight's body lay. He placed a hand on the ground, heedless of the wet mud that coated his fingers. If he hadn't been such a fool...so obsessed with following his father's ways and obeying the Ancient One...he wouldn't be touching the wet ground and staining his own robes. He would have Galahad with him, the knight whole and alive...not cold and still in death.
Tears fell down Elrond's face, mingling with the rain that fell. "Galahad." His voice wasn't as strong as he would have liked. It never was, when he spoke to the dead knight...holding onto that desperate hope that the knight's spirit would be able to hear him somehow. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I...I was later than I wanted to come today. I would have been earlier, but I received a message from the Ancient One. He wants me to send my people to join the King's army. To...march on a town that hasn't paid its taxes." He drew a small dagger from his belt and began to carefully cut the weeds that had grown among the flowers he tended to by Galahad's grave. He could ask one of the others to do this...to kneel in the rain and tend to Galahad's grave.
But Elrond wouldn't let anyone else be responsible for keeping Galahad's final resting place safe. That was his responsibility, and his alone. To protect this place, as he had failed to protect Galahad when the knight had lived.
As he carefully removed the weeds from the grave, Elrond continued speaking to the knight's spirit, his voice soft and tender. "I had my own reports about the town and the situation the people are in. They've been unable to pay their taxes because of several harsh winters. They barely make enough to feed their own people...and I understand that many of their people are starving." He cut free another weed as he continued, "The Ancient One will not have compassion for these people. He has control over the King's army and will send them to march on the town, whether or not I send my own people to join him."
The grave finally free of the weeds and overgrown plants, Elrond sat back and reached out, slowly caressing the hard, cold stone. "I wish you were here," he whispered, his voice faltering a little. "Your wisdom, your ability to see the good in all those around us...I sorely need you, Galahad."
There was no response, because of course there was not. But a tiny breeze slipped through Elrond's hair and he closed his eyes, wishing it was the knight who touched him, as more tears fell. "I will send my people...but not to join the Ancient One's forces," he whispered to the silent grave. "I cannot stand openly against my father. He is too powerful for that. But I will send food...grain...to the town. I will send elves to hobble his army's horses and to confuse their scouts. I will do everything in my power to protect the innocent from his wrath...as I know you would have done the same," he whispered.
Was it just his imagination, or did the sunlight seem to shine a little brighter? The air grow a little warmer? Heartened by the thought that maybe he was being heard, in some way, by Galahad's spirit, Elrond continued to speak. "I hope that I'm making the right decision. I can't stand directly against my father. Maybe that makes me a coward. I don't know." He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "I wish you were here, Galahad," he whispered, his voice hitching with the pain of deep grief and guilt. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry for everything that I did. I would do anything to change the past. To bring you back. To love you in the way you deserved," he whispered to the silent air.
With his eyes closed, Elrond could feel the breeze that had touched him, but it was now warmer; more like a caress than the touch of mere wind. Elrond held his breath. Was Galahad somehow reaching across the veil between life and death? It seemed impossible and yet...Elrond was no stranger to things happening that couldn't always be explained.
Whether it was truly Galahad or not, Elrond didn't dare open his eyes and break the spell. He knelt there, in the mud, next to Galahad's grave. The rain still fell from the sky, but he didn't feel the cold. The warm touch from the breeze stopped him from feeling any kind of discomfort.
Of course, it couldn't last forever. Eventually, the warmth faded away and with it, the sense of Galahad's presence. Slowly, reluctantly, Elrond opened his eyes...knowing that whatever magic he'd felt was now gone.
The warm, almost loving touch he'd just experienced did little to soothe the grief that still plagued him. And the tears were still in his eyes and on his cheeks as he slowly stood up, gathering the weeds he'd cut free of Galahad's grave. He lingered for a moment or two longer, hoping that the magic would return and that he might be able to see Galahad's spirit...even for just a second. He sent a silent prayer to the gods he wasn't even sure he believed in.
Whether they existed or not, Elrond's silent prayers went unanswered. His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he finally turned away from the grave and walked away from the garden. "I'll return to you tomorrow, my beloved knight," he whispered, hoping against hope that Galahad's spirit would be able to hear him.
The End