Chapter Text
Erestor paused at his door, eyeing the shifting shadows lingering on the stoop. He hooked a finger through his key ring and brought his left hand to breast pocket. The heavy coat had been found in an old thrift shop, the canvas ripped in places but still thick and durable enough to wear. Erestor had spent a week repairing it and adding the necessary changes he would need to use it for his work.
The pack of waterproof matches lived in his left side breast pocket. The shadow that was inching towards the light – and not away – did not stop its progress. Erestor pulled a matchstick from the pack and lit the head with his thumbnail in one smooth motion. The shadow coiled up like a snake, the vicious fangs the only gleaming part of its body. The flash strike of the match lit the whole hallway. Erestor sidestepped the lunging bite of the shadow-snake, stepping down on its neck to hold it in place as he twisted a flame-blade from the sparks and cut off its head in the next breath.
The door to the apartment next to his popped open when the lights returned to normal. His neighbor, Bilbo, stuck his head out and looked both ways down the hall and then up at Erestor. “That's the second one this week,” he said.
“I know,” Erestor flicked his hand and the flames at his fingertips went out. “I don't know how they're getting in.”
“Could it be the new super?”
“Ferny was said to know how wards work,” Erestor said with a frown. Bilbo did have a point, though. “How are yours holding up?”
“Fine and dandy but I heard the new people are going to start moving in next week.”
Erestor made a face at that, even as Bilbo laughed. “Mairon Properties knows this area is a paranormal hot spot. I don't know why they're allowing mundanes to live here.”
Bilbo just shrugged. “The less the mundanes know the better it is for all of us. They would have a conniption if they found out about...” He made a vague gesture, his expression shading towards bitter for a moment. Erestor looked away. Well did he understand Bilbo's bitterness. Erestor himself had been chased out of Mithlond for his 'trouble causing ways'. Bilbo had been exiled from the Shire for much the same reasons. They were both magnets for the paranormal, something in them calling to that wilder, hidden side of life that most those in Arda simply could not see. To all of the mundanes in the world magic had left during the Fourth Age, never to be seen again. There were no such things as vampires or werewolves or wizards. There might be elves and dwarves and hobbits but they were just simply the races of Arda, having been there from the beginning. There were no such things as orcs or goblins or Uruk-hai, or strange powers that would corrupt the very darkness itself into monsters that would kill people and steal their life force for reasons that were still unknown.
There was much the mundanes of Arda did not know about the world as it really was.
“Anyway,” Bilbo gave himself a shake. “Want a cuppa? I just put the kettle on.”
Erestor hesitated at the door. A hot cup of tea did sound lovely. “I don't know...”
“You can check my wards for me, in return.”
The promise of a trade eased that still-barbed part of his fëa that protected him for so long in a world that did not understand what he and others like him did. In the world he now lived in nothing was free. A kindness always cost something, no matter the sentiment behind it. And when the price was not paid...well. Magic would always take its due.
Erestor slipped into Bilbo's apartment, shoulders easing some of their tension as he crossed the heavy earth wards that protected Bilbo's space. He still knelt just inside the door, though, and ran his hand along the wards that twisted across the space. Green growth and spices tickled his nose. The scent of freshly turned earth. The whisper of wind. And...there. The blue-flicker of the curse that had been laid on one of Bilbo's ancestors that had caused his own magic to blossom to the point where not even Bilbo's stance as the Baggins of Bag End could save him.
“All is well?”
Erestor blinked back to the here and now, knowing that his eyes would have gone dark as a sky without a moon, dotted with stars. It was one of the many reasons he, like Bilbo, had been run out of his own home. “Strong and not taxed at all.”
“Oh, good. I was worried about that,” Bilbo bustled in with a tray filled with small sandwiches and a porcelain tea service. Bilbo's cousin Otho might have been able to force Bilbo out of the Shire but Erestor had heard enough to know that Bilbo had used his magic to simply take Bag End with him in a way that Erestor still did not quite understand. To his knowledge most of the Shire thought that Bilbo set fire to his smial when he was exiled and no one had been able to go inside since.
The fact that they were standing inside a still-intact Bag End spoke to a type of magic that was far more wild and protective of Bilbo than Erestor's own darkness that curled through his fëa.
(Erestor was also starting to suspect that Bag End was starting to infect his apartment, if infect was the right word for the matter. Erestor was certain his windows had been smaller and there was more space in the kitchen than he thought there had been. Either way he didn't mind , he just didn't want to upset Bag End if it was actually semi-sentient. Erestor had seen just what Bag End could do when a would-be thief had tried Bilbo's window. There hadn't been anything left of him and Bilbo had gotten a new fertilizer out of it.)
Anyway.
Erestor accepted the cup Bilbo pushed into his hands with a sigh as he sat down into one of the plush seats by the –
Yes. Fireplace.
Erestor decided not to think about that and just enjoy the warmth. From the amused glint in Bilbo's eyes he had noticed Erestor's surprise. Still they sat for a long moment, enjoying the tea and the crackle of the fire. It had been a long afternoon of hunting down a shadow-rat that had bit Rúmil's youngest child. Erestor had been forced to take on a small nest of the creatures just to eradicate them.
“How is Rúmil's little one, then?”
Erestor cracked open an eye he hadn't realized he'd let close. “You know about that?”
“The Lady was here to check on them.”
“Ah, good,” Erestor rolled his head to crack his neck. “The nest was taken care of and I got the button back. I left it on their door. That should hopefully be the last of that.”
“Nasty business those creatures. I don't know why the council doesn't do more about them.”
Erestor ran a hand over his face. “Elrond is working on it.”
“Is he, now? That's good to know. The Lady and Elrond on one side of the matter should get things moving double quick.”
“How is your store coming along?”
Bilbo made a face as he stirred his tea. He let go of the spoon and it continued to move in lazy circles, the dark liquid lightening without a touch of sugar or cream. “The contractors left. Again. It is ridiculous.”
“Isn't that the fourth crew you've gone through?”
“Not in the way I want,” Bilbo muttered as he slouched down in his seat. “I've got a new bid coming to take a look at the place on Monday. We'll see if they're any better.”
“Which company this time?”
“Oakenshield Inc. We'll see how it goes. They're dwarves, which is encouraging. And worrying,” Bilbo frowned at the far wall. “I'm sure it will all work out.”
“Oakenshield Inc. Aren't they the ones who had that dispute with Golden's Construction Company?”
Bilbo snapped his fingers. “That's where I'd heard the name before, thank you.”
Erestor drained the last of his tea and set the cup and saucer back onto the silver tray. “There are whispers that say there's bad blood between the two crews. You might want to lay down some wards on the shop, just in case.”
“Oh, do you think there would be corporate espionage?”
Erestor blinked. “I don't think it works like that with construction companies?”
“A tall, dark stranger with a broody face who just needs scones to lighten his spirits. And I could lighten his –”
“Bilbo.”
“I was going to keep it clean, but if you insist –”
“Bilbo!”
Their laughter was a faint sound outside Bilbo's door. They never saw the way the lights in the hall blinked off one by one and the shadows surged across the walls and floor and ceilings, before the lights came blinking back on one after the other.
“This is our new building?”
“Don't worry so much, Ecthelion, it's fine.”
“It looks like it's about to fall down.”
Glorfindel shook his head as he hefted a box in his arms and started up the stairs. “We're five blocks from the precinct, it's a three bedroom, and the rent is cheaper than what we were paying out in the suburbs. Still going to complain?”
Ecthelion grumbled a little more but that was all. Glorfindel juggled the box and his keys for a moment, trying to get the heavy front door open. The building was old, like the rest of structures around them, with a wide lobby that had thick beams exposed in the ceiling and a floor that looked like it might be original to the city. Which was impossible, since Tirion many thousands of years old but it was a fun joke. The building itself was nine stories tall, with thick stonework outside that made it look a little dark and imposing. The apartments themselves were all said to have been newly renovated and when they'd toured the place two weeks before the unit they saw certainly did look almost brand new.
Before Glorfindel could lose both the box and his keys to the ground the door opened. He had not seen anyone through the glass, which was strange, but a thin elf stood on the other side of the door, blinking at him.
“Thank you!” Glorfindel moved forward before the elf could close the door in his face. “Moving is always a hassle. Do you know if there's another entrance we could bring the moving truck to perhaps?”
The elf stepped aside for them, still staring. “There are...other entrances, yes, but you'll find that the front door is best for you now,” he said.
Well. That was strange. “Pity. We've a load of furniture coming in. Ah, forgive my manners, I'm Glorfindel,” he set the box down on one of the couches in the lobby and turned, holding out his hand. “And you are?”
The elf glanced over to Ecthelion, who beamed at him, but did not take Glorfindel's hand. “You can call me Erestor,” he said.
Glorfindel kept his hand out, though it became a bit harder to keep a smile on his face. “That's Ecthelion, my partner. Mr. Ferny said we're the first new tenants in a while moving in here.”
“...Yes,” this Erestor said, glancing down at Glorfindel's hand before turning completely away. How rude. “Don't prop the door open,” he said as he left.
“Don't prop the door open,” Glorfindel mocked under his breath as the elf vanished around the corner and let his hand drop. “How else are we supposed to get our stuff up? What a stick in the mud.”
“Ferny said the old tenants aren't too happy with new people coming in. We'll just have to win them over,” Ecthelion said, shifting his hold on his box. “Come on, let's get going. We have a lot more boxes outside.”
“Yeah, yeah, here just let me,” Glorfindel found a planter and dragged it over, making sure the door stayed open as he put it in place. “There. Don't keep the door open my –”
“Fin.”
“Fine, fine,” Glorfindel rolled his eyes and grabbed his box from the couch. “Come on. The sooner we get all these moved the sooner we can get curry.”
“Yes.”
Their laughter trailed behind them as they made for the stairs. Neither of them saw the shadow that slid up to the doorway, probing against the dark line that marked the entry, before it pushed past with a whisper of sound. Then it was gone.