Disclaimer:

The characters, places, and events are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit was or will be made from this story. It was written solely for entertainment.

Author’s note:

Many many thanks to my new beta reader Linda Hoyland.

Summary:

While searching the ruins of Angrenost after the ring war Glorfindel makes a discovery he had never thought possible……

Rating: PG-13

Hitheaglir – Misty Mountains

Angrenost – Isengard

Curúnir – Saruman

Chapter 1:  anywhere but home

The Elf-lord took a deep breath. He had just emerged from the depths of Angrenost. He was now standing on the top step leading down from the black tower.

Elrond surveyed the desolation surrounding the imposing building. Once a green country with rich vegetation, it was now nothing more than a barren wasteland. Located on a plateau of the Hithaeglir, it had once been the great watchtower of Isildur. Now the unleashed river Isen had completed the destruction by washing away the last remnants of any plant or animal life.

It would need years, if not decades before this place would heal and regain its former beauty, if at all. Too deep were the wounds the orcs had inflicted and the filth and poison Curunír had infused into the land surrounding Orthanc.

It was not a place that a rational thinking mind would seek out voluntarily, yet when the new King of Gondor and Anor had offered him the opportunity to investigate Orthanc before it was cleansed of all traces 0f Saruman’s presence. Elrond could not resist.

For over a week now, he and Glorfindel, a handful of Imladris´ warriors, and some men under Aragorn´s command had searched the former residence of the Istari in the hope of finding something useful that could aid the now free peoples of Middle earth after the War of the Ring and the fall of Sauron.

Aragorn had offered the opportunity to his foster father, knowing how interested the Lord of Imladris was in ancient lore.

Aragorn could not destroy the tower of course, its walls were indestructible, yet he could bring everything hidden there out into the light either to give it a new use or be destroyed forever. No malice would remain at this place.

Never fond of leaving his sheltered valley, Elrond could not resist the temptation to discover and investigate some of the secrets the Maia had undoubtedly stored away in his fortress. He would leave these shores soon, yet he would seize the opportunity to explore this mystic place and would take with him what seemed valuable before it was lost forever.

When he thought about Curunír Elrond sighed. How he had betrayed them all. How many times had he sat at the White Council and how much secret information had been passed on while he was under the influence of Sauron?

Today however, the Elf-lord was no longer able to endure the depressing atmosphere in those underground caverns. In the last two weeks, they had discovered and removed corpses of elves and men, dwarves and beings unrecognizable, as well as animals, all of which had suffered and ended their lives in this dreadful place.

Elrond had looked into sealed boxes and sniffed at countless jars not always sure what their contents might be.

He had discovered too many abhorrent things, which had only disgusted him, too many creatures had been tortured in the name of science or simply to satisfy the pure lust of having the power to extinguish a life at a whim.

The healer was a scientist himself, yet he would never gain knowledge by killing or torturing a living thing, not even a plant.

Before Curunír´s dependence upon Sauron, he had been an excellent master of lore and science. Elrond had discovered many very ancient books about medicines and cures that he had quickly stored in the wagon they had brought with them. He would study them all and hopefully gain some further knowledge in the art of healing.

Shortly after their arrival, they had indeed encountered living orcs in the depths of Ortanc. The warriors had made quick work of them and the elves had even been able to release a few men from the underground prisons. However, there was not much information to be gained from them. Those which had not lost their minds after years of imprisonment and torture desired only to get as far away from the tower as possible.

Elrond had pondered where Curúnir had vanished to. After entering the tower after the handing over of the keys to Aragorn who had entrusted them to Treebeard they had found not trace of the Istari. Not that Elrond had expected otherwise. Supposedly, he had vanished from this world as mysteriously as he had once appeared.

Elrond idly watched the workers, men and elves alike, while they carried out Saruman’s belongings. They would check what might still be useful later. Every one was glad to leave the tower from time to time.

Elrond’s head whipped around in alarm when he heard the anguished shout of his advisor.

“Elrond! Come quickly,” Glorfindel called.

The Elf-lord frowned at the tone of his friend’s voice. Surprise, dread and grief he had recognized. What had Glorfindel found? Without another thought, the Master of Imladris turned and heeded back into the depths of Isengard….

To be continued………………….     

Chapter 2:  a dark place

After climbing the many steps to the entrance of the tower, which was an unadorned great iron gate, Elrond looked up at the figure standing there and waiting.

“You will need this,” the King of Gondor said. He handed over an unlit torch. Elrond inclined his head. Obviously, Aragorn had also heard the shouts of his former mentor. He wondered what his councillor had discovered. It took quite a lot to set Glorfindel on edge.

With a last look down at the surrounding landscape, Elrond followed the man down the spiralling steps into the darkness of Orthanc.

The first level they reached could be referred to as Saruman´s private chamber, yet the room defied such a prosaic description. It was huge; the ceiling was at least eight feet above the ground. On the far wall, there were some small windows, which only dimly illuminated the room. The last sunbeams highlighted the dust dancing over the floor.

Elrond had been to this room many times not least because of the numerous bookshelves lining the walls from top to bottom. He would take back at Imladris as many as possible while others would be transferred to the great library of Minas Tirith. Now however, he had no eyes for the ancient books; the shout from Glorfindel was foremost in his mind.

The iron staircase wound further down into the depths of Isengard and they crossed four further floors until they reached the bottom of the tower. Two of the royal guards were waiting for them.

The Elf-lord smiled inwardly at his foster son’s slight grimace. Aragorn had still not fully adjusted to being a King.

Aragorn had meanwhile lit a torch, which spread a diffuse light. Without it the three men, would be helpless in this darkness.

Nonetheless, Aragorn jumped when Elladan, the Elf-lord oldest son, suddenly appeared next to him. Elrond had long sensed his son’s approach and quickly placed a restraining hand on the guard’s arm, which had already raised his sword in alarm.

“This way,” Elladan said in Weston. The small group followed the Elf without a further word. It was no longer a staircase but a stone ramp steadily leading downwards until they reached the foundations of the dark tower, many feet under the earth. The boots of the men made scrunching hollow sounds while walking.

On this floor, only storerooms and to the great dismay of the Elf-lord, the countless cells were located. Many of them had been inspected and cleared in the last two weeks, but it would need many more weeks to investigate all the small crevices used to lock away a variety of creatures, which had been unfortunate enough to become caught into the Istari´s doings.

At the end of the corridor, Elladan suddenly veered to the left and entered one of these cells. The iron barred door that Elladan pushed fully open creaked unnaturally loudly and was painful to the ear. He had to stoop for the ceiling was not high enough for the tall elf.

Elrond followed his son into the room, Aragorn followed close behind. The two guards lined up left and right of the cell-door. The cell was already dimly illuminated by two torches Glorfindel had set in the sconces on the wall. Elrond added the third torch to the others to cast more light to the corner of the room where Glorfindel was kneeling, his back to them.

The healer did not see what the warrior was cradling, yet he guessed it had to be a body. After looking more closely, he could recognize a pale limp hand beside the warrior´s knee. Elrond sighed. Another corpse and if he were not totally mistaken, the hand appeared female.

As if he had only now recognized their presence, the warrior looked up.

“Elrond, she’s alive,” was all he said, swiftly returning his attention to the limp body.

Surprised, the healer came over and knelt beside the fair-haired elf. Sadly, he beheld the naked body of a woman. Glorfindel must be mistaken. There was no longer any breath in this body. This he could see even in the dimness.

“Glorfindel…..” Elrond begun, yet the warrior interrupted him with a shake of his head.

“Elrond, she’s alive. I can feel a heartbeat and she is breathing. Slowly and faintly but it is there.”

Looking up at Elladan the Elf-lord received an imperceptible shake of the head. Aragorn had pressed his lips into a thin line.

While taking a deep breath the healer bent closer. The body Glorfindel was cradling was no more then a carcass, the skin wanly stretching over flesh long bereft of any muscles. The head appeared like a skull, the sunken eyes closed above hollowed cheeks. What remained surprisingly preserved was the long blond hair.

Under the intense gaze of his friend, Elrond reached out a hand and gently brushed a strand of hair from the ashen face and revealed……a pointed ear. The healer closed his eyes momentarily. The woman was an elf. At the same time great sadness washed over him. Another helpless victim who had died a horrible death down here…..

“Elrond listen to your intuition…...” Glorfindel said and his voice was tinged with anger. The healer looked up irritated. They had recovered so many corpses these last days, what made this woman so special?

“Adar?” Elladan inquired feeling the tension building up between the two Elf-lords.

Elrond finally reached out a hand and placed it on the cool forehead. Nearly instantly he withdrew it and looked up surprised. Glorfindel was right. The woman was still alive, even if barely.

This could not be. The body of the woman was starved and dehydrated above anything anyone, even an elf, could endure. The body temperature was far beneath anything resembling healthy. It remained a miracle how this body was still working.

“Elrond, we have to help her,” Glorfindel stated while rising, easily lifting the emaciated body. The warrior wrapped a cloak around the woman.

Already turning Elrond grabbed his advisor’s arm after he had risen too.

“Glorfindel,” he called while shaking his head unwillingly.

“I do not know why there is still life in this body and even if the unbelievable happens and we can prolong her life she will never recover or even wake up.”

For several moments, the Elf-lords gazed at one another until Glorfindel rounded on his friend and strode from the room.

Aragorn frowned after his departing mentor. What had got into the warrior? If there were to be any chance to help this poor elf then they would take it. Even the fleeting glimpse he had caught of her made him swallow hard.

Elrond directed a questioning gaze at this son. Elladan came over and dropped his voice. Aragorn raised an eyebrow. Who did he fear would overhear them?

“Glorfindel and I checked this part of the cell wing. The door to this prison was bricked up but he insisted we break it open. Otherwise we would never have found her…..,” Elladan trailed off.

Elrond nodded and turned without another word, handing the torch back to Aragorn.

“This room should be sealed again. Some secrets should remain hidden,” he muttered. The Elf-lord left the cell without a backward glance.

Aragorn looked at his elven brother inquiringly, yet Elladan only followed his father with a frown on his face.

Aragorn shook his head. He had long lived among elves. He should be used to getting no answer.

To be continued………………….     

Chapter 3:  the sun is spreading no warmth

The King of Gondor followed the Elves up back up into the more comfortable regions of the tower. He had released his guards from their duty much to their dismay.

Despite being nearly as tall as the Elf-lord’s son Aragorn reached the top step of the entrance platform some time later.

Having been a healer nearly all of his life made Aragorn curious to learn why the woman still lived. Why she had not long since heeded the call of Mandos was a miracle to him. While Elves were able to choose to die, most Men had no such ability and had to wait for a merciful release.

His heart had constricted at the sight of the poor Elf. Aragorn had seen many a dead human down here, yet an imprisoned Elf made his gut clench even more. These eternal beings were not made to be imprisoned.

Glorfindel had spread a cloak on the ground and placed the still living body on top of it. Elrond was kneeling next to the councillor after he had retrieved his healing pack from the wagon. Yet again he hesitated even to touch the woman. Aragorn frowned at his foster father’s hesitation. Did the Elf perceive something that was hidden to his mortal eyes?

Elladan was erecting a tarpaulin to shield the woman from the sun. Then the young elf was knelt opposite his father to assist him.

Aragorn was undecided whether to stay or return to his men, in the end his curiosity won out. However, he felt excluded for some indefinable reason. After all these years in the company of elves there were still moments he could not have been more distant from them. This was such a moment.

Meanwhile, the healer had wetted a sponge with water that Elladan had brought from the near river Isen and was carefully cleaning the grime from the woman’s body. The more the healer removed the dirt the more it became visible how mistreated this woman’s flesh was.

Aragorn was unable to glimpse any part of her skin, which was undamaged. He could make out scars, cuts, bruises, and swellings under the skin. Aragorn was not sure that he wanted to learn the cause. After watching for a while, Aragorn had to give his foster father credit – this Elf would never recover.

Carefully the new King of Gondor watched the faces of the Elves kneeling around the woman. His foster father’s face was expressionless, yet Aragorn knew that it was due to intense concentration. He knew that his foster father would do anything to help the elf-woman if he would see only the tiniest glimmer of hope.

Glorfindel´s face expressed anger, almost fury. Aragorn’s frown deepened. At whom was this directed? Saruman? He knew the warrior better than that. The Istari had brought so much sorrow to uncounted beings that this strong emotion was misplaced. The fate of this elf-woman was surely more than sad, yet she was only another victim in a long saga of unending sorrow. Elladan´s face was blank. Aragorn was hard pressed to guess what the older twin was thinking.

Not more then an hour had passed when the elves stopped their treatment. The body of the woman was washed, bruises and cuts treated, and broken bones set. Elrond had wrapped the fragile body in a long linen shirt Glorfindel had handed him. The haggard form looked forlorn in the much too wide garment so Elrond tied the lose ends in a soft knot over the she-elf’s knees.

Then he rose and stretched his long legs. Elladan was covering the pale Elf with another cloak, yet despite the warm temperatures Aragorn doubted that this body could be warmed up again.

Glorfindel looked irritated at the Elf-lord. Obviously, he was expecting something more from the healer in addition to carrying out the basic treatments. In one fluid motion, he rose also.

“Elrond,” he called and Aragorn cringed. He knew this tone. The warrior was highly irritated. The King of Gondor followed the beckoning of his foster brother and sat next to the elf under the canvas. Elladan was watching over their patient.

With a furrowed brow, Aragorn watched the Elf-lords he had known all his life. The rigid posture of his foster father heralded a confrontation. Before Glorfindel could open his mouth, Elrond turned around and fixed his advisor with a stern glare.

“Glorfindel, I know what you want to say and my answer is no!” the healer said in a low voice, but only people who knew him recognized the irritation in his tone.

Aragorn inhaled sharply. Again he was reminded how quickly these eternal beings could be misjudged because of their beautiful appearance and their noble bearing. Just now, Aragorn did not want to be the target of the warrior´s anger. And the retort was not slow to come.

The healer was raising an annoyed eyebrow when the warrior stepped closer.

“You do certainly not know what I want to say. Why are you not helping her further?” Glorfindel said in a low tone. “Wherever is the problem?”

For a short moment Aragorn expected that his foster father would turn away without retorting, yet after s short look into his direction the healer faced the warrior again.

“Glorfindel open your eyes and look at her. Nothing what I or everyone else could do would reverse what has been done to her.”

Glorfindel however did not back down.

“She still alive, Elrond. What’s the reason for this? Can you tell me that? Are you afraid to fail again?”

Despite the sun, still streaming down on the area around the tower the temperature dropped suddenly. Elladan had sprung up and taken up a rigid stance.

Aragorn held his breath. He carefully watched his foster father’s reaction.

“You forget your position, Commander,” the healer warned with an icy expression. Aragorn swallowed. Glorfindel had clearly crossed a line.

For long moments, the two elves glared at one another until Glorfindel turned and strode back toward them. Without saying a word, he knelt down and caressed the cheek of the woman gently, almost lovingly. Elladan wetted his lips and raised an eyebrow in surprise. After relaxing his stance, he sat down again.

Aragorn exhaled slowly. After so many years, the fate of the Lady Celebrían was still a sore point.

“I am sorry, Elrond. I did not mean that as it sounded,” Glorfindel suddenly said. Though he spoke the apology very quietly, Aragorn was sure Elrond had heard it. The healer took a deep breath. He nodded in acceptance.

After some moments, the healer strode over too and knelt down again.

“She has not improved,” Elladan said but Aragorn was sure that an entirely different message was transferred between father and son. The healer answered with a nod and Elladan inclined his head. Aragorn recognized that Glorfindel did not meet the older twin’s eyes.

“Glorfindel,” Elrond suddenly said while the warrior kept his gaze directed at the woman.

“Why she is till alive is a miracle to me. Yet I would not call it living. Her heart is still beating and she is breathing, yes, but nothing more. Why she has not long heeded the call of Mandos I do not know either, yet when I examined her I perceived some…..”

Three heads snapped into the healer’s direction.

“What have you learned?” Glorfindel demanded the remorseful tone from before forgotten.

“It appears that a spell has been forced upon her. A spell which is hindering her spirit from finding rest into the Blessed Realm,” Elrond explained in a low tone.

“Is this possible?” Aragorn asked, again looking at the sunken face.

Elrond shook his head. “I have never heard of such a possibility but with an Istari involved…..”

“Then the crime done to her is much greater than I imagined,” Glorfindel said and the angry gleam had returned to his eyes.

Elrond narrowed his eyes. Why was the warrior so taken with this woman? Aragorn was sure that no words had been uttered, yet the warrior gazed at the healer.

“I do not know, Elrond. Something is special about her. She’s not from around here or from this time. It’s almost as if I know her…from long ago….”

Elrond did say nothing. Glorfindel was one of the best warriors he had ever known and could be merciless in battle, yet there were times when he reacted very emotionally, sometimes uncomprehendingly and sometimes the healer was at a loss to understand the motives of the ancient Elf at all. When Glorfindel said he assumed her not from here then he did surely not mean the tower and its near surroundings.

He counted this Elf to the best friends and companions and his skills as a councillor were unquestioned, yet Glorfindel could be very annoying when caught in bygone memories or when he experienced something which reminded him of his life before his rebirth.

“She’s is of my kin,” the warrior said abruptly, not looking at anyone as his gaze still directed at the closed eyes of the woman.

Aragorn looked up in surprise. The woman was tall and when healthy she must have been beautiful. Even now, her features looked noble. The curiously still full blond hair cascaded down her meagre shoulders…..

Gorfindel shrugged his shoulders at the questioning and gazed at the two Peredhil who were looking at him.

“I do not know but I’m sure she is of Vanya descent.”

Now even the healer was taking a closer look at the face of the she-elf. Yet the many years of imprisonment, bereft of sun and wind, the years living in utter darkness had let the skin wither, the once rosy hue and flawless appearance, which was common among the fair folk had vanished. To guess of which elven race she once descended from was pure speculation.

Seeing the healer’s frown and doubts the warrior rose and strode away with stiff strides. Elrond nodded toward his sons and rose too. Elladan would resume his watch over their patient; Aragorn excused himself to check if his men required his presence.

He was curious to learn what had happened and was still happening to this mysterious Elf, yet he had a mission to accomplish. He was now a King of Men and as much as he was still drawn to the elves, who had raised him he had now new responsibilities to focus upon.

Elrond had meanwhile reached his friend and for long moments, the elves stood in companionable silence looking over the desolate place their thoughts far away.

“Elrond, I cannot deny how my heart is speaking to me. This woman is surrounded by a secret and for a reason I cannot yet fathom I’m drawn to her fate. I cannot say more at this moment.”

Glorfindel stopped, not looking at the healer who stood just a step behind him. Long moments the Lord of Imladris said nothing but when nothing more was forthcoming from his councillor he took a deep breath.

“Glorfindel, I’m also concerned over the fate of this woman but your hopes that she will recover are vain. Even if the unlikely happens and she awakens, she will forever be disabled. All her muscles, bones, and sinews are so badly damaged that she will never be able to walk, to sit or to stretch out. This would be no life. She would only suffer. You should not wish for her to awaken from this nightmare. She would be condemned to life her live in misery. And this I’m saying to you as a friend, not as a healer.”

Glorfindel turned and looked at his friend and Lord.

“I know, Elrond, yet I will not abandon her.”

Without a further word, the warrior turned and strode back to the canvas where Elladan was still sitting. When the councillor sat down the older twin arose. Glorfindel nodded is appreciation to be granted some time alone with the woman.

Elrond looked at the dark clouds gathering in the sky. This was a most troubling development. Was some spell still working long after the Istari´s departure, or was the great warrior simply overwhelmed with pity and hoping for things that would never happen?

In any case, the Lord of Imladis would watch this process intently and then decide how to proceed. As heart wrenching the fate of this she elf might be he would not bring any potential danger knowingly or unknowingly into his valley.

To be continued……………

Chapter 4:  Could the day get any worse?

The next day started cloudy and a fine, all-drenching rain was falling. Tents had been quickly erected to shield the rescued items, especially the ancient books and scrolls from further destruction.

Some kind of restlessness had settled among the workers; and elves and men alike, every so often announced the wish to return home.

Elrond was sure that many weeks or even months would not be sufficient to explore the whole interior of this tower. They had inspected all that was possible in this short time and even he felt the wish to return home soon.

Maybe for similar reasons and because he felt he had to return to his capital, Aragorn had already instructed his men to load the long row of wagons, of which five of them had already left the camp and had been sent ahead toward Minas Tirith.

A few men would stay behind to burn all of Saruman´s belongings down and bury the no longer usable items into the great hole surrounding the tower. Nothing of the Istari´s possessions should be left behind and maybe nature would one day reclaim what had been ripped from her.

One problem, however, was still not solved. Aragorn expected this moment to come with much trepidation. His foster father had in no uncertain words, stated that he would not take the elf-woman into his valley – at least not until they had determined what mystery was surrounding her.

Aragorn´s ears still burned from the heated discussion between the two Elf-lords. At their small camp, it was hardly possible to avoid listening to a conversation.

Last night the condition of the elf-woman had suddenly deteriorated, if this was even possible, meaning that her heartbeat had suddenly erratically increased, only to drop afterwards to an alarmingly slow level.

At the same time, a thunderstorm had set in as if to announce the final death of the woman. While everyone in the camp had silently hoped that the poor elf could now be released from her pain, Glorfindel had pressed the healer to help her again.

While Elrond had explained that there was nothing he could do to improve the woman’s condition Glorfindel had also in no uncertain words, stated that he did not believe that and had without another word had marched toward the tent where the woman was lying.

As soon as the thunderstorm had passed, the heartbeat of the woman had normalized yet the reserved mood between the Elf-lords had remained.

The troops of men were ready to depart and Aragorn had subtly been reminded twice that any delay was not opportune. He sighed. He had to remind himself again that he was now a king of men and that the affairs of the elves were no longer his focus and responsibility.

Even if he would rather have known how the Elf-lords would solve their dispute and more about the further fate of the woman, he gave the signal to depart. At pre-dawn he had already made his personal farewell with the elves; nonetheless he was glad when Elrohir came running over just as he was to mount his horse.

“Farwell, brother,” the younger twin said while he hugged the man.

“Do not worry, Adar and Glorfindel will be reconciled, they always have. Even if I share father’s caution, I do not see why we should not take her with us. We will be careful, I promise.”

Aragorn returned the hug in a heartfelt manner. Elrohir had answered all his unvoiced questions with his calm demeanour and his heart was much lighter now.

“Farewell, Elrohir and let me know how things progress,” Aragorn replied and mounted his horse. Finally, he gave the signal to depart. Within moments, the camp was cleared and only the contingent Aragorn had assigned to raze down all that was possible remained to fulfil their duty. Elrohir just turned and stopped waving when they were out of sight.

……………………………………….

Three hours later the elves were on their way too and after a further discussion Elrond had relented and agreed to take the woman along, yet he had assigned two guards to watch her at every moment and Elladan had promised to monitor her mentally. Glorfindel was not happy about that but Elrond remained adamant. Either his wish was respected or the woman would not cross the borders of Imladris.

Glorfindel had only shaken his head. Was it not Elrond himself who had declared that this elf would never wake? Why now this over-reacting?

Elrond’s frown had deepened. Until now, it had always been his advisor counselling him to exercise caution at every turn and warning him that danger lurked in places you would never expect. What had happened to the ancient elf to cause him to abandon his own principles? Now there was yet another reason for the healer to keep an eye on Glorfindel and the woman.

However, Elrond was not to be moved and so the Balrog-slayer had given his consent but not without himself making certain that the she-elf was placed comfortably into the wagon. With a dark glare, he had looked at his own warriors that Elrond had ordered to guard the woman. Then he had mounted his horse and ridden forward without once glancing back.

The journey home was a slow one, the terrain over the mountains being difficult for the wagon. From time to time, Glorfindel climbed onto the wagon and wetted the elf’s lips with water and caressed her cheek. He had wrapped her into a thick woollen cloak; the nights were already chill in these heights.

Yet the woman remained lifeless as before; her skin still pale, her lips bloodless with a bluish tinge.

Elrond looked with worry at this process fearing that Glorfindel would not be as alert as usual should orcs decide to attack them. The actions of the ancient elf made Elrond wonder.

Glorfindel had never been a simple companion; he was a complex character and always was a hint of mystery surrounding him. Elrond was never so reminded of this fact than in these days. Believing that the woman stemmed from similar ancient times as himself, Glorfindel seemed to establish some connection to the she-elf that Elrond could not fathom.

Elrond expected the days to come to be anxious ones. How would his friend and best defender of his valley react? Would Glorfindel be forever dedicated to a living dead body? But about one thing Elrond was absolutely sure. Even if the she-elf did awake, what he greatly doubted, Glorfindel would be disappointed even if Elrond had no idea what exactly Glorfindel was seeking.

Was he hoping to find a mate or a similar mind from ancient days? Elrond’s concerns deepened. He had ever assumed Glorfindel was content with his life and the role he had found at Imladris. Apart from occasional strange behaviour when an anniversary of the fall of Gondolin or some other reminder of times long past occurred Glorfindel had never complaint or otherwise stated that he was missing something.

Yet, the ancient elf had never opened up fully to the healer. Very seldom and reluctantly he had answered question concerning his life before his death and never had he talked about what happened during his stay with Lord Námo.

Had all his pent-up emotions and experiences now found a vent to be released into or to be shared with? Elrond already dreaded the moment when they would find out either way.

What if the woman never awoke? Would Glorfindel be doomed to sit beside her, hoping for her to return for life? Would he accept in the end that her spirit had died a long time ago even if her body miraculously still lived?

And what if she did really awake? Would his hopes in finding a soul mate be fulfilled? Was she really from Gondolin and of the same race? Or was this all wishful thinking?

Elrond was, to put it mildly, shocked. Glorfindel had always been a very self-assured and confident companion. He was not to be deterred lightly. And he was ever sceptical about influences from outside. All the more disturbing now that he had fallen for a woman he had only seen and not even talked to.

Just as they had crossed the invisible border of Imladris Elrond was again reminded of a possible spell set about the woman. What if Curunír had really issued some spell reaching him at long last? Was he bringing a hidden threat into his valley?

To be continued……………………….

Chapter 5:  hope against hope

Three months had passed since the elves had returned from the journey to Ortanc. Elrond and his chief librarian had already started to catalogue and sort the valuable tomes and scrolls, the unrecorded notes and observations the Istari had made while residing in his tower. Elrond had to consciously remind himself had a few times  to replace the big tomes about lore and healing on the shelves as not to get lost in reading and searching and neglect his task in ruling the hidden valley.

While normality had quickly returned to the community of Imladris after the elves had unloaded the huge wagons, one elf was not the same as before.

Returning to his desk that day, Elrond sighed while thinking about the elf he had had to remind of his duties of late. Since their return Glorfindel had, as expected, spent every free minute beside the woman they had rescued from the depths of Ortanc. Long had the healer accepted this, always with the hope that the warrior would one day see that his hopes would futile.

Until today, Glorfindel had never listened to Elrond’s careful hints that he had to accept the poor woman’s fate. Only yesterday, the two Elf-lords had a sharp argument. Glorfindel was neglecting his duties to an extent now no longer tolerable to the Master of Imladris. Schedules for new patrols had not been made, much less assigned. The warrior training program had been cut short and his councillor’s presence in the office was lacking.

Glorfindel had denied his failure and declared that his free time was at his own disposal. This was unusual for the ancient elf. He had always been reasonable and had no qualms about admitting an error. However, since the arrival of the she-elf in this house the warrior had changed drastically.

Only the well- being of the woman was now on his mind. Elrond took a deep breath and exhaled. Well- being – this was a term he would not use in describing the haggard body not really living, yet not dead either.

For three months, the woman lay in the bed they had placed her after arriving. Her outward hurts, marks and bruises on her skin had healed and vanished due to the constant attention the staff of healers were bestowing on her, even any broken bone or dislocated sinew was no more, and yet the damage went much deeper and these hurts were not easy to cure, if at all.

The best singers with mental powers had sung countless hours to her, Elrond had countless times poured healing energy into her, and even the mysterious power of ancient Glorfindel had not made the tiniest difference.

Finally, the Master healer had given up and declared again, what he had already stated at the dark tower that this woman would never wake and that there would be no power this side of the sea that could rouse her from her death-like state.

Glorfindel had not accepted this and accused Elrond that he was deliberately denying help to the woman.

The discussion had ended in an outright argument and Elrond was shocked that Glorfindel accused him again of not doing all in his power to help the she-elf and that the fair-haired elf was not willing to see reason.

After that, the relationship of the Elf-lords could be described as strained at best. Any effort to speak with the warrior again had only brought Elrond indifferent rejection.

Being an elf equipped with much patience and understanding, Elrond was slowly nearing a point he was no longer willing to tolerate.

Their guest at the infirmary was disrupting plans and schedules even if the woman could not really be blamed for this. Apart from neglecting his duties, Glorfindel was grating on the healers’ nerves. Many had already complained about the constantly hovering Elf-lord and Elrond was no longer willing to placate his staff.

He should have never allowed the warrior to bring the she elf into his valley. Yet the damage was done and today Elrond had decided to confront Glorfindel head on and demand an explanation about how the Vanya was planning to go on.

After crossing the corridor connecting his private quarters with the infirmary, Elrond was just about to open one of the great double doors when the left door was pushed outward with such vehemence that he had to jump aside to avoid getting hurt.

Tinár, the chief healer of his staff, stormed outside with a dark scowl on his face. He almost bumped into the Half-elf who suddenly appeared in his path. With a surprised gasp, Tinár stopped his hasty strides and looked at the other healer with narrowed eyes.

“Elrond, either he leaves the healing rooms or I will do it, and as long as he resides in there I will never set one foot in there again.”

Without another word, the healer turned and hastened down the corridor. Elrond swallowed. Tinár was the most even-tempered and patient elf he had ever known, really predestined for his profession.

When he appeared this agitated then Glorfindel must have done something really upsetting and Elrond had no doubt that Tinár was referring to his advisor.

Elrond entered the room even more determined to speak to the warrior.

As expected, Glorfindel was standing beside the bed of the she-elf lecturing his staff about the treatment of the unconscious elf. The stiff posture of Calan told Elrond that even the older elf was hard pressed not to argue back, only his experience and self-control were holding his retort in check.

Not willing to accept another minute of this, Elrond strode through the room until he was standing right beside the two elves. They had not recognized his presence, being too preoccupied with their discussion.

Elrond cleared his throat.

“Calan, would you please excuse us – Glorfindel a word?”

Everyone not familiar with the Half-elf would have thought this a normal question, yet the grimace on Calan´s face spoke volumes. He knew his chief exactly. Elrond was angry and the short and clipped tone had made this more than clear.

While Calan only bowed and turned to quickly leave the room, Glorfindel narrowed his eyes at the rude interruption.

“Elrond, Calan has not changed her nightdress this morning……”

“Glorfindel, stop!”

The loud command cut short the warrior as well as silencing any other conversation in the room.

Not willing to let the warrior come to his senses, Elrond stepped closer.

“I expect you in my office immediately. We have something to clarify.”

Without another word or glance, the healer turned and left a stunned Glorfindel behind.

………………………………………………

Elrond had not to wait long. He had just taken his seat behind his great desk when the door to his office was pushed open and Glorfindel strode into the room.

With a demeanour, as if he did absolutely not know why the healer had ordered him into his office the warrior hovered just inside the door.

“Elrond, please keep it short, Halleth needs a bath and….”

When the Half-elf raised a hand Glorfindel stopped in mid-sentence.

……Halleth……indeed………..mysterious……how fitting

“Glorfindel sit down, I have something to tell you.”

When Glorfindel started to protest Elrond rose behind his desk.

“Commander, sit down. This is an order!”

That was a language Glorfindel did understand. Without another word, the warrior sat in the chair opposite the desk. He looked at the healer with narrowed eyes.

“What is this all about, Elrond?” he asked carefully neutral.

The healer took a deep breath.

“Glorfindel please don’t play stupid with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your behaviour of late is intolerable and you are annoying my staff. The woman…..

“….Halleth…” Glorfindel interjected.

“….Halleth….. is sufficiently cared of. She does not improve more with your constant hovering……”

“…how can you know?” Glorfindel interrupted again and when the healer narrowed his eyes at the renewed affront, the warrior leapt up.

“Elrond, I will not abandon her. I’m positive that she is reacting to my presence and if this is not convenient to your plans then….”

“Then what, Glorfindel?” Elrond cried really angered now.

Glorfindel was, after all, not an elf without obligations. He was the captain of the guards, the valley’s Troop commander and he was his advisor and councillor. A great deal of responsibility entrusted in one person. Never had Elrond doubted his choice, which made him now all the more disappointed over the elf’s behaviour and lack of sense.

While Elrond had expected a heated reply, Glorfindel was only shrugging his shoulders. Also so very uncommon for his friend.

Suddenly the warrior was turning and standing only inches apart from the healer.

“Elrond, whether you like it or not. I will not abandon her and though you tell me a thousand times otherwise I’m convinced that one day she will awake and then I will be there.”

Elrond had not moved a muscle. He was tired of discussing this topic again and again.

“Then Glorfindel my decision is made,” Elrond said while taking a deep breath. If you will not return to your tasks as I require them of you, then I’m forced….”

”….what?” Glorfindel now also cried.

“You will do what? Dismiss me? Send me from the valley?”

The warrior´s face was expressing outright anger now.

Elrond anger was rising too. Glorfindel was talking nonsense, yet if the warrior was continually neglecting his duties he had to assign someone else. Even after the war, the safety of the valley was paramount and Elrond needed a confidant and Glorfindel was neither a Troop Commander now nor did he fill in the role as his advisor right now.

Elrond could have lived with a limited availability of his friend but this complete withdrawal was not acceptable.

Before either of them could say anything, however, the door to the study was pushed open.

Tinár stood in the doorframe panting.

“My Lords, you will not believe it, the woman has awakened!”

To be continued………………….

Chapter 6:  disappointed expectations

The expressions on both Elf-lords faces were so alike that Tinár had to suppress a smile despite the grave situation. He could almost see the wheels turning in both minds.

While Lord Elrond looked at him if he had just said something incredibly stupid, Lord Glorfindel searched his face if he suspected he were the victim of a cruel joke.

Tinár was aware that his exclamation had sounded more than unbelievable. When his apprentice had informed him earlier, he had reacted much the same.

Before he could form another thought, however, Lord Glorfindel had stormed past him, closely followed by Lord Elrond. Tinár sighed and reached for the door-handle.

“Of course, I will close the door, my Lords. No matter,” he muttered under his breath. Hurriedly, he turned and headed after the two elves. He was curious to see how the woman would react to the warrior´s presence.

She had not reacted in any way to him or the other healers. She had simply opened her eyes for a minute. That was all. With no outward reaction did she acknowledge that she was even aware of others in the room. When nothing had changed, Tinár had decided to consult Elrond.

It was ironic. For three months, Glorfindel had barely left the woman’s side for more than a few hours, but when she decided to awaken, he had not been there. All the more now, the healer hoped that the woman would come out of her catatonic state when the Elf-lord arrived.

Tinár slowed his hasty strides when he entered the infirmary. He wanted not to interrupt a process or startle the woman, if she already had reacted in some way. Yet he was disappointed.

While Glorfindel had sat at the edge of the bed and taken the hand of the she-elf in his, Elrond was standing by the headboard just out of sight.

The woman was still staring at the ceiling and not reacting in any way to the warrior´s silent words. Tinár narrowed his eyes while silently stepping closer. What had he expected? Maybe the woman was not even recognizing anything around her, much less comprehending the silent words.

Even Glorfindel must have recognized this, because he directed a nearly helpless gaze at the Master healer after stopping to speak.

Elrond motioned for the warrior to follow him while he ordered Tinár with a gesture to stay with the woman. While the young healer took the warrior´s place, the two Elf-lords drew back into a small alcove.

When Glorfindel looked at the healer expectantly, Elrond took a deep breath.

“Glorfindel, please listen to me. Even if it’s almost a miracle that she has awakened, you should not expect too much. You should give her time. You are overwhelming her. Maybe she does not even recognize you….”

“But Elrond, she has awakened and you thought even that impossible and what now….?” the warrior interrupted. Glorfindel was already turning to return to the bed.

Elrond caught the warrior´s arm at the last moment. His face was expressing anger.

“Glorfindel, stop. You are doing her no good,” Elrond’s voice had risen ever so slightly, but Glorfindel knew this tone well. The healer was highly agitated and he was well advised to heed this warning.

Relenting after sending another look in the woman’s direction Glorfindel turned back to the healer.

“Maybe you are right. I do not know what is happening, maybe it’s because she’s like me…from a time long past….from a land long forgotten……

Elrond took a deep breath. He had just realized that his friend’s eagerness was no fleeting concern; maybe he yarned for a mate, for a companion as old as he.

Elrond swallowed. Never had he considered that Glorfindel could  wish for a companion, a woman, never had he hinted in the slightest at such a possibility, apart from that had Glorfindel had never been someone given to sadness but now Elrond was no longer sure.

What was behind the warrior´s eagerness to bring this poor soul out of the darkness?

When an unearthly cry sounded through the room both elves turned as one, their discussion forgotten.

Glorfindel knelt again next to the bed taking the pale and cold hand in his.

“Halleth, listen to me, you must not be afraid. You are safe, no one will harm you.”

Elrond again kept his distance not wanting to overtax the woman. He narrowed his eyes when the she-elf kept screaming, and not in the slightest reacting to the soothing words of Glorfindel.

When the screams intensified in volume and pitch Elrond stepped next to the bed and slapped the woman’s cheek.

The cries instantly stopped. Ignoring the angry glare from Glorfindel, Elrond was for the first time under the impression that the woman was aware of her surroundings. Her eyes had lost the blank stare and were darting around.

Briefly, she locked her gaze at the fair haired warrior sitting on the bed now, but only for a minute. Elrond was not even sure if it was a conscious gaze. As suddenly as she had opened her eyes, she closed them again and appeared as lifeless as before.

“Elrond, how could you….”

“Commander, you are again overstepping your boundaries. I’m perfectly aware of my actions and this was the only way to interrupt a hysterical fit. And now I have work to do, which I’m sure you too. Let her sleep and let us hope for another opportunity to communicate.”

Without waiting for a response the healer turned and left the room, leaving a few stunned elves behind.

……………………………………

To Elrond’s great surprise, Glorfindel returned to his desk in Elrond’s great study half an hour later.

He had said nothing about the happenings in the infirmary and Elrond had also kept his silence. Glorfindel had only nodded at his entrance which gesture Elrond had returned.

For two hours the Elf-lords had worked, concentrating on papers and reports, on schedules and stock lists. Glorfindel had even arranged patrols and assigned them. His second in command had appeared and gratefully received the plans.

With growing amazement, Elrond observed how Glorfindel worked through the mountains of papers as if eager to make up for his three months of neglect in one afternoon.

Even when a servant brought the afternoon tea, he refused it as he was engrossed in a report from the northern border patrol.

Elrond sighed; as much as he had demanded that Glorfindel undertake his work, he had not meant it all to be done on one evening, but this was also Glorfindel. Always extreme. A smooth middle course seemed not to exist for the ancient elf.

For some time Elrond kept his mouth shut, really appreciating that the warrior was helping him out. The arrival and now three month stay of the mysterious woman had affected nearly everyone in this household.

Elrond was as intrigued as Glorfindel to find out more about the she-elf, yet assumedly out of other motives.

His healer’s mind refused to believe that she could be as old as Glorfindel indicated. Of course he did not know how long the Istari had imprisoned the woman, but judging by her state and the bricked cell they found her in, Elrond feared it was a long time. But was it possible that she could be dated back to a time long before the Istari’s coming, when the great Kingdoms still had power in this world?

Elrond looked up and narrowed his eyes when he found Glorfindel’s seat empty. His head snapped around at the sound of a flipping page and he saw the warrior sitting on the comfortable settee with a heavy tome on his knees. He had not even noticed the warrior getting the book.

Elrond did not need to look at the title, he knew it so well. It was a very ancient book about family histories and genealogies going back to first elves living at Aman.

So the woman was back on Glorfindel´s mind. Elrond slowly rose and sat beside his friend. He grabbed the left part of the book and stabilized it while placing it over his own lap. Glorfindel looked up briefly and nodded his thanks. Elrond’s gaze however was already drawn to a beautifully painted family tree with the elf Turgon, once the glorious King of Gondolin, in the centre.

Elrond knew this history well, Turgon being this great-great grandfather if nothing else.

Suddenly however Elrond looked up at his friend. What was Glorfindel searching for?

“You could not possibly believe that this woman is related to King Turgon, or one of these other ancient elves?”

Glorfindel did not answer. His gaze became suddenly distant and his eyes narrowed. Elrond instantly recognized this state. Glorfindel was remembering long forgotten times.

Elrond hold his breath. Seldom did Glorfindel speak of his life before his death. This could be a special moment and the Lore Master was willing to take advantage of this moment.

Yet, as quickly as the mystical moment had appeared as quickly did it vanish. The warrior lost his fixed gaze.

The healer sighed. Glorfindel was even not to be urged – again.

Elrond closed the ancient book with a thud and rose to place it back on the shelf, when the warrior suddenly begun to speak.

The healer had to strain his senses. Not because the warrior was speaking so quietly but in a language not used or heard of late.

“Once I knew a beautiful woman. Her name was Elvëa. It was the first day of hrívë….” he begun to confide in perfect Quenya.

To be continued…………………………     

Chapter 7:  soul mate

Glorfindel closed the door behind him and inhaled the warm summer breeze. It was the first day of hrívë and it promised to be another wonderful summer day.

His gaze wandered along the stone paved streets, up to the white tower of the King’s citadel. The impressive city of Gondolin never ceased to amaze him with her beauty. It always reminded him of ancient Tirion that lay beyond the Great Sea.

It was the year 511 F.A. and the hidden city was thriving within the protecting lap of the encircling mountains.

“Glorfindel!”

The warrior smiled at the sound of his name, already knowing who was greeting him. Just a moment later, Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, was coming down the street with his long strides.

Before he could return the greeting, he was enveloped in a big hug.

“Good morning, brother,” the dark-aired elf said after stepping back and looking his friend up and down. He was as tall as Glorfindel, his long ebony hair flying loose in the wind.

Ecthelion was a sight to behold. Today the great feast of Tarnin Austa began – the gates of summer - and the Elf-lord was gleaming all over in his silver armour. Glorfindel however did not look less imposing.

His long golden hair was equally flowing and the magnificent breastplate of his golden armour threatened to outshine the sun.

“Good morning, brother, have you recovered from the evening?” Glorfindel replied with a twinkle in his eye.

Ecthelion only laughed. Yesterday evening, he, Glorfindel, and a few lords of the city had met at a popular tavern and celebrated their recent promotions. The night was almost over when they had returned home.

“Come, let us rescue the noble ladies from loneliness,” Ecthelion suggested grinning. His smile, however, vanished when he recognized his friend’s melancholic gaze.

Ecthelion clapped the fair haired warrior on the shoulder. “Forgive me, my friend, I forgot. Your heart is already lost.”

Glorfindel shoved his friend away. He knew Ecthelion was only teasing, but he also knew that the other elf was right. Only half a year has gone by since he had met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…..

………………………………………..

Glorfindel stretched his aching back when he crossed the last of the seven gates closing Gondolin off from the outer world. Ecthelion was behind him looking equally tired. For three weeks, they had been on patrol along the mountain passes.

Even if the city was perfectly hidden behind the high mountain walls, King Turgon did not take any risks. Regularly, he ordered his warriors to patrol the passes to make sure that the beautiful city would continue to remain unknown to the world.

It was still a three hours ride across the greensward to reach the outer buildings of the city so Glorfindel closed his eyes to relax; his horse knew the way well.

When he had travelled half an hour in this state, knowing that his sworn brother would do the same, both horses whinnied to alert their masters. Glorfindel raised his head and opened his eyes to see what had spooked his horse. Ecthelion followed his example and both elves scanned the area to determine what had alerted their faithful steeds.

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes when he recognized an upturned wagon on the shore of a small lake they would have reached in a few minutes.

He looked back at his friend, but Ecthelion had already urged his stallion forward. Glorfindel swore under his breath, already sensing that something was not right.

Many inhabitants of the city enjoyed their free time away from the town at the many small lakes surrounding the imposing city walls. Small glades and clusters of bushes strewn throughout the greensward invited them to relax. So it was no surprise to meet elves on their way to the city, yet an upturned wagon was surely out of the ordinary.

Ecthelion had already reached the lake and dismounted when Glorfindel arrived. He sharply halted his horse and jumped from its back.

“Glorfindel, come quickly and help me,” Ecthelion urged and only then could Glorfindel see what the reason for his friend’s agitated voice was.

Half buried beneath the right site of the upturned wagon was an elf. When Glorfindel had rounded the cart, he realised that it was a woman. Ecthelion was already trying to lift the wagon upwards.

Quickly moving next to his friend, Glorfindel placed his hands under the loading platform and together they managed to lift the wagon and turn it on the other side away from the she-elf.

Instantly the two warriors knelt next to the woman. Glorfindel carefully turned the woman around. He searched for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when he found a steady heartbeat.

Ecthelion was looking anxiously at the small rivulet of blood trickling down the woman’s face, beginning on her temple. Obliviously, she had hit her head when the cart had tipped. The accident had happened recently.

Glorfindel looked around but of the horse, he could see no trace. It had apparently bolted or already returned to the city.

“I will bring a blanket,” Ecthelion announced and Glorfindel simply nodded.

Carefully, Glorfindel lifted the limp body in his arms and carried the elf to a nearby tree to provide some shelter from the sun.

When Ecthelion had placed the blanket on the ground, Glorfindel lowered the woman onto it. Gently he brushed a strand of her long golden hair out of her face.

Even though her face was smeared with dirt and blood, she looked exceptionally fair and Glorfindel was instantly taken with her appearance. She was tall and lean, her body well-proportioned and even for an elf she could only be described as exceptionally fair. For some indefinable reason he felt a strong urge to protect her.

Ecthelion looked from his friend to the unconscious woman with a frown.

“Glorfindel, I will fetch some water….Glorfindel?”

“Yes, yes,” was the irritated answer. The warrior´s eyes were still fixed on the woman’s face. Ecthelion only shook his head and got up.

When he returned, Glorfindel had combed the she- elf’s hair with his fingers and had arranged her clothing so it seemed that she was only sleeping. The dark haired warrior only raised an eyebrow. Their friendship had survived many love affairs, but such a strong reaction he had never witnessed before and the woman was not even awake!

Wordlessly, he handed the golden-haired elf his water skin and Glorfindel carefully dripped some of the liquid on the woman’s lips. First the drops ran down her chin. Suddenly her eyelids begun to flutter and slowly she opened her eyes.

Seeing to strange male elves hovering over her, she jerked upright and away from Glorfindel´s steadying hand.

“Easy,” Glorfindel said softly. “You have been unconscious. Obviously you hit your head when the wagon tipped.”

The woman brought her fingers to the prominent bump on her forehead and looked around in the direction of the wagon. She instantly regretted this quick movement and moaned in pain.

Glorfindel was at her side when her body begun to sway and steadied her with a loose arm around her shoulders.

She rested her head in both her hands.

“Something spooked the horse. I just wanted to get down from the wagon. It tipped and I must have…..” she stopped not really sure what happened. Suddenly she looked up first at Glorfindel and then at Ecthelion.

“I’m sorry, I have been rude, my Lords. I’m Elvëa. I thank you for helping me.”

“Only Glorfindel,” the golden haired elf replied with a laugh.

“Ecthelion,” the raven haired ellon offered quickly while bowing low to the woman. “You are very welcome. May we escort you back to the city? Someone may be concerned already……”

Now the she-elf smiled. “You may,” she answered while accepting the helping hand of Glorfindel. She said nothing further. Glorfindel hid a smile of his own. With admiration, he registered that Elvëa was nearly as tall as he. Even taller than most of his friends. It was very nice to be nearly at eye level with her.

She had beautiful green eyes with golden flecks around the centre. He had to blink not to stare. The moment only lasted for a second however, yet he felt a strange feeling in his gut.

Ethelion had meanwhile tethered his friend’s horse to the wagon. Fortunately, nothing had been broken when the wagon had tipped. Suspecting that Elvëa was still unsteady on her feet, Glorfindel was one step behind her when she climbed back into the wagon.

Glorfindel placed her two bags back on the platform and took a seat to her right.

She looked at the fair haired elf with annoyance.

“I’m perfectly able to drive the wagon, my Lord,” she said while grasping the reins.

With a gentle jerk Glorfindel manoeuvred the reins out of her reach.

“Of that I’m sure, my Lady,” he answered with a smug smile. With a low whistle and a twinkle toward the waiting Ecthelion, Gorfindel manoeuvred the wagon smoothly away from the lake and back onto the path.

Ethelion rolled his eyes and sighed.

Glorfindel was in love. Valar help us.

To be continued……………………

Chapter 8:  an undying love

Glorfindel shook his head when his thoughts returned to the present. Half a year had passed since he had met Elvëa, but it seemed to him like yesterday.

He had found his soul mate, and not one day since that day by the lake had they been parted. Fortunately Elvëa´s parents had accepted him with open arms. They had both seen that the two young elves were united in a deep love. Glorfindel was young, but he was already Lord of his house and one of King Turgon´s patrol commanders.

Elvëa had never been happier since meeting this smart ellon and Calan, her father, had in good conscience agreed that the two could be betrothed. He was sure that Glorfindel would soon ask for his daughter’s hand.

This was exactly what Glorfindel had planned for tonight. Before the sun would creep over the mountain tops he would ask her father. She was the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Elvëa had a deep understanding of the world, she was open-minded and caring, yet she could fiercely state her position and Glorfindel loved her for this. They were equally matched and he was often hard pressed to win a horse race or a bow competition against her.

Sometimes Elvëa seemed sad that she could not explore the world beyond the encircling mountains. Even if Glorfindel shared her longing, he was glad that she was safe and he had not to worry about her when he was away on patrol.

He shook again his head. Today was too lovely to waste a single moment with gloomy thoughts. Ecthelion had already headed away. After fetching Elvëa they would meet at the great plaza where everything was already bustling with activity because of the upcoming feast.

Every year, the elves would greet the beginning of the summer while standing on the high walls of the city and looking into the sunrise. It was always an impressive spectacle. This year would be his special highlight, he was sure of that.

------------------------------------

Glorfindel did not turn at the cries coming from the left. It did not matter anymore. The city would fall and he could no longer do anything to prevent it. With long strides, he hastened down the street. He had to avoid broken stones and burning timbers. Within minutes, the town had turned into a burning ruin.

His lungs burned from the acrid smoke and his skin felt on fire, yet he had only one goal, to reach Elvëa´s house and flee with her before the city could be razed to the ground. Since the morning when the Balrogs, iron monsters and other foul creatures had attacked, half of the population of Gondolin had been killed. Their resistance had been weak, so great were the losses among the warriors and elves who would have been able to stand against the attacker during the first hour. The attack had hit them unprepared, the magnitude of the onslaught overpowering and therefore demanding its high tribute.

After King Turgon had fallen, buried under the rubble of his palace, the chaos had erupted. The remaining inhabitants did no longer follow any order, they had forgotten, or were never told what to do while under attack. So Glorfindel was powerless against the masses of elves rushing toward the great gates. He shuddered. The gates were still closed and it would end in a massacre. Uncounted Balrogs, orcs and dragons were already waiting outside to devour whatever would come through these gates.

He was one of the few elves who knew about the secret tunnel that Idril, the daughter of Turgon, had build along the mountain pass and out of the vale long ago due to her some foresight. Now it would be their only chance of escape, if at all. Yet he would not go without Elvëa.

He ducked as another wall crumbled under the fiery breath of a Balrog and turned to the left into the street where Elvëa´s parents resided. He stopped momentarily. All the buildings on this side of the street were burning or had already crumbled.

He quickened his step and without hesitation entered the house. He could not see the end of his outstretched hand; the house was filled with thick smoke. His heart clenched. Hopefully, Elvëa and her family had left before the fire had spread.

Just as he wanted to turn away, he heard something. A faint sound between a sob and a cry, followed by a curse. He swallowed. Even while the fire was making so much noise, he was sure the sound had come from Elvëa.

“Elvëa!” he cried while hastening though what had once been the entrance hall. Dodging a falling timber from the ceiling, he stormed into the living room. Elvëa was kneeling, struggling to lift a limp body into her arms. Seeing that it was Calan, Glorfindel knelt next to her, touching her shoulder.

With wide eyes, a face smeared with soot and her long hair already scorched, she whirled around.

“Glorfindel, Valar be praised, please help me, Adar needs help.”

Seeing that no help could succour the older elf, Glorfindel turned her around while gripping both of her shoulders.

“Elvëa, he’s dead, we have to leave. The city will fall.”

The fair haired woman looked up, incredulity in her eyes.

“I will not leave without him, Glorfindel….”

“Elvëa, if we not leave now, we will die here. Your Adar would not have wanted this, now come.”

With a determined tug Glorfindel pulled the tall woman to her feet and gripped her hand tightly. He could barely see his way through the smoke, nor could he inhale without coughing.

His eyes watering, he had somehow reached the entrance and with quick strides, he stepped outside. He took a deep breath, but the air was barely any fresher. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Glorfindel looked up and swallowed. The whole sky was coloured red, heralding the near end of the city.

Quickly looking into his love’s eyes, he squeezed her hand and together they ran along the street, past burning buildings, already collapsed walls and over black clumps on the street Glorfindel did not care to investigate further.

When they reached the plaza, Glorfindel stopped abruptly, causing Elvëa to bump into him. Looking at her love’s face, she followed the gaze of his wide-open eyes and let out a cry of horror.

Within the fountain in the middle of the plaza stood a Balrog crashing and roaring, the water splashing everywhere. However, what had caused the frozen gaze of the warrior was not the horrendous creature, but the lone elf fighting the monster.

Just as Elvëa uttered her cry, the Balrog let out a breath of all consuming fire, killing the elf instantly and evaporating the remaining water in one giant steam eruption.

Glorfindel had no time to grieve for his best friend, because it had been none other than Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, fighting against an overwhelming foe. He only grabbed Elvëa´s hand firmer and run with her across the plaza. Alerted by the cry, the Balrog had already directed his attention on the two running elves.

When another mighty roar sounded, Glorfindel looked back over his shoulder and again his blood froze in his veins. The Balrog had straightened up to his full height and his mighty tail had crashed into the citadel shattering the imposing building into pieces. 

Great stone debris rained all around them, wrapping them in a thick cloud of smoke. Suddenly Elvëa was ripped out of his grasp when a massive stone crashed into his back.

His world went black, although only for a moment. He scrambled back on his feet. The sharp pain coming from his back made his head swim and bile rose in his throat. Despite the heat from all around, he could feel warm liquid trickle down his spine.

Ignoring all this, he looked around in panic.

“Elvëa?” he cried, in a faint attempt to overpower the uproar the Balrog was making.  His heart almost stopped when he noticed a pale hand jutting out from beneath a heap of stones.

He had no time, however, to make a conscious decision. The Balrog marched near and had already opened his mouth for another fire burst.

What however would haunt him even in his dreams, was when he saw how the giant creature stepped on the rubble Elvëa was buried under. If she had not been dead already she surely was it now. His unearthly cry of rage and despair went unheard in the face the din the Balrog was making while letting forth his fiery breath.

At the last moment, Glorfindel stumbled backwards, his skin already burning and his long hair scorching in the flames. With an effort he could later not recount, he somehow managed to escape. He stumbled and fell, pulled himself up again and run as fast as his injured back would allow him.

Sometime later, he had put enough distance between him and the still raging Balrog that he could stop for breath. Glorfindel wiped the tears from his swollen eyes and looked around. It had become oddly silent, the last gasps of a dying city.  

Gradually, his rational thinking returned and he recognized that he was near the hidden entrance to the underground tunnel Idril had designed. He looked around. He had expected countless citizens to be gathered here to use the tunnel and flee from the city, but he could not see one elf.

Even the noise of fighting guards and crying people had become fainter and fainter. Already he feared that he was the only survivor so far. Never had he thought that the city could be destroyed this fast and this utterly. They had been much too self-confident and blind. Yet the attacking force had been overwhelming and merciless.

With a last look into the sanguine sky, he slipped into the hidden crevice that someone who did not know what to look for would never find.

The darkness in the tunnel and the stale air was a stark contrast to the atmosphere outside and he carefully inhaled and for a moment treasured the cool atmosphere.

He leaned his forehead against the cool stone wall and let his sword clatter to the ground. He felt utterly devastated and ashamed for leaving the city like this, but confronting the masses of orcs and hordes of Balrogs would achieve nothing.

Yet he contemplated going back to die with all the people he had known and loved here. His mind nearly made up, he lifted his head at a faint sound. He quickly picked up his sword and followed the curve of the tunnel until he could make out a faint light.

Not long after he discovered a long row of elves marching in single file up the incline. He quickly closed the distance and had already marched past the last elves, touching a shoulder in passing and even spending a smile at surprised and hopeful faces.

As he had hoped, Idril and her husband Tuor were marching at the front. Idril whirled around when Glofindel called out to her.

“Glorfindel, the Valar be praised, you are alive,” she cried while hugging the warrior unconditionally. Glorfindel smiled. Idril was indistinguishable from the other women in the trek, her hair and dress as dirty as the others. This was one of the reasons why he held the daughter of the King in high esteem.

Her eyes held an unvoiced question and he only shook his head. Having known Elvëa well, being the daughter of her father’s cousin, a single tear slipped down her cheeks. She would not show her feelings in public even if no one on this trek would mind. Glorfindel was grateful for this gesture nonetheless.

Tuor had come over.

“Glorfindel, I’m glad to see you,” the son of Huor greeted the warrior with his easy attitude.

“We have almost reached the end of the tunnel. With a bit of luck we can leave the valley by nightfall.”

Glorfindel nodded and followed the man to the head of the long row of elves. Even if it was a fair number of survivors, it was but for all that, a pitifully small group that had escaped the total destruction.

Even though they had almost reached the mouth of the tunnel, the progress they were making was very slow. Many women with small children and wounded slowed them considerably. Glorfindel looked back constantly, anxiously expecting a Balrog to come after them at any moment. If they could reach the top of the pass then they had a really good chance to escape……..

………………………………………………

Elrond had closed his eyes after Glorfindel had finished. Every elfling knew what had happened to the survivors of Gondolin and especially to Glorfindel. For long moments, the two Elf-lords sat in silence but suddenly Elrond jerked his head up.

“You cannot positively say that the women we rescued from Ortanc is…….. Elvëa?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

The warrior had sprung up.

“Yes….no, Elrond, I´m not sure, but never before had I found a soul mate like Elvëa.  Never before has my heart beat like in her presence. Elrond, what if it is she….?”

The healer shook his head.

“Glorfindel, you said she died the day Gondolin fell….”

“I know but what if she was not dead? Valar, Elrond I left her behind and she was alive….”

Glorfindel made a helpless gesture.

Elrond had also risen.

“Glorfindel, stop this. I´m sure, even if she did survive, that the woman in my infirmary is not Elvëa.

Elrond swallowed at the look from the steel blue eyes.

“Are you sure, Elrond, are you really sure?”

To be continued……………………….     

Chapter 9:  power talk and intimate thoughts

“What are you looking at, my love?” a gentle voice asked.

Lord Námo smiled. The Vala had, of course long since detected his spouse approaching, but he indulged in playing her game. He deepened the light blue colour of his sphere to a deep almost blackish blue and slowly but steadily transformed into the shape similar to their favoured children. He did not need to turn around to know that his wife had also chosen the bodily appearance of the elven kind.

“Well?” Vairë asked again while her loving gaze was still directed at her husband’s back. Of course, she also knew what the tall Vala was so intently staring at her tapestry, yet she liked to tease him. His thoughts were in her mind as clearly as her thoughts were in his.

“For the first time, my love, I do not know how to proceed,” Namó answered resulting in a surprised intake of breath from his wife. She stepped even closer until her chin rested on his left shoulder and her deep green eyes looked as intently as her husband’s at the scene depicted in the tapestry she had recently woven.

She knew of what he spoke and she agreed silently even if she had been responsible for the drama unfolding. Albeit, when the lifeline had started it had somehow gone its own way, but now it had developed to a level not intended.

For a long time, the life line of the elf on the picture had been hidden or neglected by the weaver of life. The elf’s presence had only recently gained focus again thanks to another well know elf. Only now, the Vala noticed how terribly the fate of this certain elf had gone astray.

Vairë took a long time before answering.

“You are right. It will be difficult to make the right decision. The life stream is intricate and her future fate is hidden from my eyes, at least partly. I’m not sure what to make of our favourite elf’s intervention.”

Now Námo smiled a real smile.

“Maybe we should look what he is making of her and decide then?”

An answering smile was the only answer.

…………………………………….

Glorfindel´s POV:

For hours, I was sitting in my favourite spot at the base of the waterfall where the river Bruinen veers to the left only to vanish further down beneath the mountain. I come here when I want to think undisturbed, when I want to be alone.

This does not happen often but only from time to time. No Elf in the valley dares to disturb me then. I do not demand much for myself, but these undisturbed moments are precious to me.

Elrond’s last words had made me think and think again. Maybe he was right and the woman in the infirmary was not Elvëa – could not be Elvëa? How I had the idea in the first place was now eluding me but I could not ignore the speaking of my heart.

Listening deeper, I tried to find out the reason why I wanted – no yearned for this woman to be Elvëa. I had clearly perceived Elrond’s thoughts that he mused I longed for a companion, a wife…..

Was this the case? To my own surprise, I could not deny this wish. After my rebirth, I had never really considered to take a wife or raise a family. Not because I did not want to. My tasks were manifold and first and foremost, I had sworn to serve and protect the line of Earendil. There was not much room for plunging into family life.

In the back of my mind, I knew that I was betraying myself. We lived in relative peace as long as the valley was kept hidden from the outside world and even if the task to protect this peaceful heaven was arduous every day, the life in valley could be considered safe.

Yet I take my task to protect Imladris in being its Lord’s Troop Commander very seriously. Never again shall it happen that an enemy could surprise us as it had happened at Gondolin the day the city fell. When not training warriors or being out on patrol, I counsel my Lord and take part in ruling the people looking to us for guidance.

Again I was aware of making excuses. Even Elrond had founded a family and raised three children, so why should my time be limited to such a degree as not to sustain a family?

Angrily I shook my head. These were all not the reasons why I walked these grounds alone. The main reason was lying in the infirmary right now. After Elvëa, I had never found a woman who had spoken to my heart like she had done.

Was this my second chance? Could it be that the Valar had designed a life for me like it should be? Being a husband and a father? Then anger returned to my thoughts. Had the powers sent Elvëa down this dark path to finally return to my arms? Then I did not want this chance. I had still not the heart to consider what Elvëa – or the woman in the healing ward - had been forced to endure.

Being imprisoned was a horror for every elf, yet being imprisoned by the Istari for a time not comprehendible for any elf, much less a human, it was unimaginable. How long had she been locked away? What had the Istari or one of his multiple dark creatures done to her? Could she still be in her right mind? Could she ever recover – whether Elvëa or not?

Elrond had already predicted that even when she awoke – like she had done yesterday – she would never recover; she would live a life of misery, as a mere shadow of her former self.

Was this what I wanted? Seeing the love of my life suffer every day? Or was there a chance to guide her back to the light? Time was not the problem, but was it only time Elvëa needed? I took a deep shuddering breath. Even though Elrond had himself experienced great emotional trauma in his life, in this case his predictions were made without real experience. But what options were left to us any way, all emotions aside? She lived and she had awoken – what now?

Even if we had the right, should we kill her to spare her a life in misery, or should we continue to care for her and lead her back into a loving community?

I stood up abruptly, not finding any answers in the place that has spoken to me in the past. I would fight for her, but would I have the heart in the end to let her find peace, whatever this peace would be? I took another deep breath and left the riverside, yet I had not the heart to call for an insight from the Valar. They were not innocent of the fate the woman was forced to endure.

With a much heavier heart, I walked back to the house.

……………………………………..

Elrond returned to the House just as Glorfindel had risen from his favourite spot. When the warrior had vanished from his study, Elrond did not need to think hard where the elf had gone. One look up the hill had confirmed his guess. Elrond did not need to be a mind reader to know what thoughts were cursing through his friend’s mind.

The fate of woman abiding in his infirmary was also ever present in his mind – how could it not be, yet his thoughts about her were of a different nature. He could not believe that this woman could be the she-elf Glorfindel had told him about. Even if the life of elves only ended when the world ended, no elf could walk through the millennia unscathed.

Whoever this woman in his infirmary might be, Elrond was sure that it was not the woman Glorfindel hoped her to be. She might be old but she could surely not originate from the era of Gondolin. But what if Glorfindel was right?

Ignoring all his better judgement, Elrond considered the consequences.

Even if Glorfindel was optimistic now that the woman would recover, he knew that this was not possible. She had awoken, yes, but was it really a coming back into reality? She had opened her eyes, but not recognized anything; her hysterical screams had showed this clearly.

Elrond was sure she was still trapped in some nightmare and he doubted that she would ever leave this darkness; Glorfindel’s care not withstanding. The old elf was mighty but he had his limits and the woman was already beyond reach.

And there were some other issues to consider. The she-elf was totally starved and dehydrated. With painstaking slowness and without much success the elves caring for her tried to coax some water and broth into the haggard body. Elrond, however, doubted that the damage already done to every inner organ could be reversed. Why she was still alive and her body functioning was miracle to him.

Long and hard had he thought about what could be the reason for the prolonged life of the elf. Considering her bodily and mental state, she should have long since crumbled to dust. Was the same reason why she had never or could never heed the call of Mandos also why that she still lived? Even if all physical aspects spoke another language?

The Elf-lord shuddered. Glorfindel had implied that it was a charade of the Valar. Elrond doubted that the powers were playing such a cruel game. Their ways were often intricate and incomprehensible for the firstborn, but to let one of their children suffer in such a way, Elrond could not believe.

Yet there were many examples of the past where elves had suffered unthinkable fates – was Elvëa also singled out for something greater? What was the meaning behind this all?

The healer took a deep breath. Instantly the bad feeling he had after discovering the elf at the depths of Ortanc was back in his gut. All his instincts had screamed at him to not bring this woman into his valley.

Had his feelings betrayed him, or was she only a poor soul waiting to be rescued and given another chance? Was he overreacting and conjuring up things?

To be continued…….

Chapter 10:  slow progress

Elrond looked up when someone entered his study. Glorfindel inclined his head briefly before he hastened toward his desk.

With a raised eyebrow, the healer’s eyes followed his counsellor. Glorfindel opened the top drawer of his desk and before he could retrieve the required item, Elrond knew what item this would be. The same thing Glorfindel was getting out nearly every day: The big tome about the genealogies of old Middle- earth families.

Elrond sighed.

His seneschal, however, ignoring his Lord’s expression of displeasure, as he often did of late, grabbed the heavy book in a strong grip, and left the study as quickly as he had come.

Elrond leaned back in his high backed chair and thought back to the second awakening of the woman he had allowed to be brought into his house.

Less than two weeks ago, Elrond had just emerged from his sleeping chamber to begin the day early. Heavy rain-clouds in the sky promised a dreary day just right for paper work, which was miraculously never diminishing on his desk.

When he had crossed the door of the healing wing, he raised an eyebrow when he heard soft spoken voices. Nothing unusual, but so early in the morning? Only the healer on duty for the night should be at his post and the patients still sleeping.

Thanks to the Valar, only two patients resided here – a Dúnedain ranger caught in a rockslide and Baranor, his smith, having sustained a bad burn yesterday while cleaning the cauldron and …..

……..of course Elvëa.

Elrond sighed – Glorfindel of course, who other would be in the healing wing at this hour?

Then however, the healer stopped abruptly when he listened closer and heard not only Glorfindel speak but also an answering voice in return – a female voice!

His frown increasing, Elrond slipped through the slightly ajar door, not announcing his presence as yet. The first room branching from the main corridor had become Elvëa’s home to give the healers quick access.

As expected, Glorfindel was perched on the bedside with his back to the door. What fascinated the master healer however, was that Elvëa was also sitting upright and obviously interacting with the warrior.

Elrond could not believe his eyes. The first wakening of the mysterious woman had not promised much. She had not been really awake, but disorientated and hysterical. All understandable in his healer’s understanding and so Elrond had never had much hope for her to find a way out of her misery.

Had he been greatly mistaken? It was already a miracle that she could sit upright, but to speak and no less answer questions was unbelievable.

His curiosity greater than his discretion, Elrond walked into the room to announce his presence. Glorfindel turned his head and looked at him with an expression in his eyes Elrond could not place. The warrior was neither surprised, nor angry, nor…..

“Elrond, may I introduce Elvëa to you?” the warrior simply said while rising and looking towards the bed.

“Elvëa, this is Elrond son of Eärendil, the Lord of this valley.”

Elrond had not expected a reply in any case and was all the more surprised when the woman looked up as if really comprehending what the warrior had said.

However, she did not say a word, only inclining her head in his direction. Again Elrond was not sure if this was a conscious act.

Elrond narrowed his eyes. He could not place this look. He had clearly heard her speak a few minutes before. Why was she mute now? Was he intimidating her? He doubted that.

To not let the awkward situation deteriorate, Elrond inclined his head in return.

“I welcome you in my house, Elvëa. I’m glad you are doing better.”

Glorfindel furrowed a brow having caught the strained undertone in his Lord’s voice.

Elrond had to blink. What had he expected? When he looked at the woman, he shuddered inwardly. She still looked like a corpse. Her head a skull with deep sunken eyes. Still her long golden hair contrasted starkly to her otherwise emaciated appearance.

Even if her skin had gained a little more colour, it still looked grey and unhealthy.

She must have been a beauty once and Elrond had enough imagination to picture a beautiful woman of noble appearance – tall, regal, lively.

Now she could barely sit only remain upright helped by Glorfindel´s steadying hand. She could not move a hand or a toe. Her sinews shrunken to a degree where the normal function of walking was no longer possible. She must be in extreme pain when only moving her lips, which were no more than a bloodless line.

He could still not believe that she had spoken a few minutes before, and yet he had heard her answer. Now her look was forlorn as if she could not comprehend her surroundings. Was Glorfindel the only fixed point she reacted to?

Seeing that nothing would come out of staring at each other, Elrond cleared his throat.

“Glorfindel, a word?” he said softly as not to disturb the woman. Her eyes were still darting around wildly as if finding nothing to fix upon.

Slowly Glorfindel lessened the support of his hand and Elvëa sank back into the pillow. Her face contorted in pain and her breath hitched. The warrior caressed her face tenderly until she closed her eyes with a sigh.

Elrond furrowed his brow. Would this ever get better? It was not his nature to let someone suffer, but at this case, his power was limited. Not that he had poured healing power uncounted times into the haggard body with less to no effect at least to his eyes.

Even if lying flat now, her whole posture looked cramped and tense. No muscle and sinew allowing her to relax.

The healer turned abruptly startling Glorfindel and implying that he should follow.

The Half-elf had already reached the secluded garden opening up in front of the infirmary when Glorfindel joined him there.

“Elrond, I know what you want to say….” the warrior begun but stopped when the healer raised his hand.

“You do not,” Elrond retorted with a clipped tone. Glorfindel raised an eyebrow, knowing that further arguing would only raise the ire of his lord more. He did not know what had angered the healer, but his posture told as much. Glorfindel had been happy to hear the first coherent spoken words from Elvëa but his joy had now evaporated.

Elrond turned around fully.

“Glorfindel we have to come to a decision. We will leave these shores soon and I’m not sure how we will include Elvëa in this endeavour. I doubt she can even endure the journey toward the havens…..”

“We will not come with you,” Glorfindel stated softly but determinedly.

The healer closed his mouth audibly. He knew, although half-elven that his ears had not betrayed him, yet the incredulity of the warrior´s statement shocked him into silence.

For years, he had been planning to leave Imladris and sail into the West and it was always without question that Glorfindel would accompany him. Now all his carefully made plans crumbled.

Half a year ago, Elrond had received a similar blow when his sons had declared that they would stay in Middle Earth until Aragorn had consolidated his position and as long as Arwen would need to settle into her new position as a Queen of Men.

With a heavy heart, Elrond had accepted this decision, knowing that he could not change his sons’ minds anyway. On the other hand, he was glad not to leave Arwen behind bereft of her whole family at once. He knew that Celebrían would be devastated not to see any of her children, yet it would be only temporary.

Glorfindel´s coming along was clear without question and only in knowing his long time guardian would accompany him would make the bittersweet departure bearable.

But now even this foundation was shattered. Glorfindel would stay with Elvëa in Middle Earth until…….

….until when?

She had recovered? She had died?

A bitter laugh was escaping his throat before he could hold it back.

It was the destiny of all elves to leave for the Blessed Realm sooner or later, and now the time has come. The war to destroy Sauron was over, the people of Middle Earth again freed and peace restored. Their purpose to walk on these shores had been fulfilled. No need to linger, yet there was…….. Elvëa.

Elrond almost wished they had never opened that cell in the Istari´s tower and rescued her.

A heavy hand on his shoulder ended these shameful thoughts, but a look in his friend’s face told the healer that Glorfindel had known anyway.

“Elrond, I will stay with her, no matter what. Maybe when she has recovered I will follow, but now she needs me and I will not let her down a second time.”

Elrond took a deep breath in slowly. He knew that Glorfindel´s mind was set and nothing would change that. What kind of life would they live? Elvëa would never transform into the woman Glorfindel now longed for, Elrond was sure of that.

Even if she could make some more steps toward healing, she would always remain a shadow of her former self, a broken and devastated soul. Yet arguing with the warrior would lead into nothing. Glorfindel would not hear anything of that.

So Elrond turned, accepting this decision. What other option was left to him? He would again concentrate his thoughts on the impending departure, having seen his daughter and foster son properly wedded and closing all matters overseen for so long.

Sadly, he would leave another elf dear to him behind when he reached the blessed realm, even if his wife was waiting there, suddenly no longer so appealing.

To be continued…….

Chapter 11:  striking fate

Three months later, Elrond heard voices beneath his study balcony. About to get up anyway, he shoved back his chair and stepped out on the balcony, taking in a deep lungful of the clear evening breeze. How he would miss the moderate clime of the valley, the ever present roar of the waterfall and the contrast of wide lawns and huge forests.

His breath however hitched when he saw which voices he had heard. Glorfindel and Elvëa were walking through the garden.

Walking however was not the right word to describe the scene, at least concerning Elvëa. The skinny woman was leaning heavily on Glorfindel´s arm, the warrior taking most of her weight off her feet. Not that she weighed much anyway.

Nonetheless, Elrond raised an eyebrow in wonder. Month ago he had sworn, that this woman would never rise, much less walk. Again Elvëa had surprised him, yet the incredulity of the action made her even more mysterious and Elrond more suspicious. His knowledge as a healer had not come by chance and her recovery was against all laws of known science.

Considered by rational standards of physics Elvëa should have never been able to recover, yet here she was walking through his garden, talking with his Troop commander, even if her words were few, croaked and most inscrutable.

Elrond wondered if a higher power was behind Elvëa´s recovery, if it could be called so and the healer was not assuming the Valar behind all this. Elrond feared that the worst had yet to come.

………………………………..

Another month later, when nearly all preparations were complete for the upcoming departure to the Grey Havens, Elvëa had made another big step toward her recovery. Elrond had stopped wondering how this could be possible. He had accepted that all his experience of life had proved false in the case of this woman.

She was still very reserved toward all the elves in Imladris, only towards Glorfindel did she seem to open up. While she spoke only few words when absolutely necessary; she seemed to have found a secret way to communicate with the warrior.

Again Elrond had tried to persuade Glorfindel to leave with them for the Blessed realm, but again Glorfindel had refused with a vague promise to come later after he had shown Elvëa the wonders of Middle- earth. Elrond was under the impression that at least Elvëa was impatiently waiting for their departure to finally be alone with her former lover. Glorfindel was also adamant in not leaving, at least not now.

Even if Elrond had stopped voicing his concerns, his uneasiness increased from day to day as their leaving draw nearer. Elvëa was somehow feeling his aloofness and opened more up even, speaking a few words directly to him.

She even tried to get in contact with the other inhabitants but Elrond always had the feeling that she only did what was expected of her. Her cold green eyes constantly darted around, their wary expression never leaving them.

Elrond wandered for a last time through his grounds, determined to shake off the disturbing thoughts constantly invading his mind when thinking about Elvëa. Maybe he was simply disappointed that Glorfindel was not coming with him to Valinor?

Angrily, the healer shook his head. What right did he have to deny Glorfindel his happiness? If the warrior wished to stay longer in Middle- earth then he had to accept this.

………………………..

Elrond was rudely awakened from his night slumber by a determined knocking on his bedroom door.

“Master Elrond, wake up! We need your assistance!”

The healer was wide awake instantly. The voice belonged to Lindir and it was coloured with urgency and dread.

Grabbing his night robe he called out an affirmative and quickly slipped into his slippers.

When he left his bedroom Lindir was still hovering inside his rooms with a hounded look in his eyes.

“Quickly, it’s Elvëa,” Lindir said while already storming outside.

Elrond sighed and grabbed the ever present and packed healing bag from a chair next to the door and followed Lindir onto the corridor. At the next moment he heard a high pitched cry, undoubtedly coming from Elvëa. While increasing his pace Elrond saw a few elves gathered in front of Glorfindel´s apartments.

Elrond raised an eyebrow. Elvëa being the reason for a disturbed night’s sleep was nothing new and had become a sad habit during the last months.

Seeing their Lord coming down the corridor the elves parted. Elrond stopped in mid stride, however at seeing his chief counsellor Erestor sitting on a bench pressing a thick wad against a heavily bleeding wound at his shoulder.

Elrond inhaled sharply. What was the meaning of this? He had expected Elvëa to be needing his help, but not a wounded member of his household.

“Erestor, what happened?” the healer asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice.

While he quickly stepped closer to steady his counsellor who was already swaying, due to loss of blood Elrond tried to make sense of the unfolding events.

Why was no one helping the wounded elf? Elrond’s confusion was mounting. He was just to kneel in front of the dark haired elf but the outstretched arm of Erestor made him hesitate.

“Elrond, it’s not me – it’s Glorfindel!” Erestor groaned, his face contorted in pain.

Steadying the counsellor, Elrond turned his head and froze. The scene he glimpsed through a gap in the crowd of elves made his blood run cold. A scene sprung up from a nightmare.

………………………………

Elvëa was standing in the middle of the living room, a sword raised high in the air. Her white night gown was blood stained and torn. Only now, Elrond recognized the guard standing in front of the woman was equally raising a sword in her face.

What however made the healer reel, was the still figure of Glorfindel lying in front of his bed within a great puddle of blood.

Seeing his chief healer Tinár running down the corridor and overtaking the councillor, Elrond slowly rose. His eyes narrowed while he neared the entrance of the warrior´s apartments.

With a soft spoken but sharp command, he cleared the space in front of the door. The elves draw back further into the corridor while more guards were lining up left and right at the entrance.

Elrond tried to access the condition of the warrior. Obviously Elvëa had attacked Glorfindel while sleeping. Considering the great amount of blood beneath the fallen body and the drenched night shirt there had to be a deep wound. 

Elrond, however, had no time to piece the puzzle together. The moment he stepped over the threshold Elvëa whirled around, raised the sword and attacked. The waiting guard sprung forward and parried the blow while Elrond grabbed a sword handed to him by another guard.

“I will kill all you scum,” Elvëa cried, readying herself for another blow.

Elrond parried the next blow himself and motioned for the guard to leave the room. Reluctantly the elf followed his orders, but not without hovering at the door. Elrond made an effort not to injure the woman, not knowing what had triggered this reaction. Seeing the two wounded elves, however, his anger rose. His gut feeling had not betrayed him then?

With practiced movements, he shoved Elvëa further and further towards the wall, which was no great effort with the skinny woman. Nonetheless, she put considerable strength into her blows such as Elrond had never thought possible.

Having seen Tinár hovering at the door, Elrond shoved Elvëa again back to give his chief healer room for treating Glorfindel.

Looking at Elvëa made Elrond shudder. Everything that had made her an elf had left her. Her appearance, especially her eyes all looked utterly strange. The death like look had reappeared, the eyes again sunken in their sockets, the haggard form more emaciated then ever.

Hearing his colleague swear under his breath, Elrond turned his head to look at the healer. Elvëa used this moment of distraction to whirl around and break through the closed window.

Elrond was showered with glass splinters while Elvëa was falling together with the door frame of the great patio window onto the terrace. Unheeding of her many gashes, she rose, grabbed the sword and ran down across the lawn.

Elrond motioned for the guards to follow her while he shook out his clothing. After shoving away the glass with his shoe, Elrond knelt next to Tinár.

The healer had meanwhile cut the clothing free from the wound and was still pressing a thick pad over the deep hole to staunch the bleeding.

Elrond folded another linen patch. While changing the soaked one with the new he took a quick look at the wound. The sword had cut deep into the upper abdomen. The still heavy bleeding indicated that an inner organ or an artery had been cut.

“I must have him at the infirmary, at once!” Elrond said and Tinár only nodded.

While Elrond rose and left the room to prepare himself for the surgery Tinár organized the warrior´s transport toward the healing wing.

…………………………………………

For three hours Elrond had worked to save the life of the warrior and finally he had succeeded. Even if the great blood loss was still worrisome Elrond was confident that Glorfindel would survive.

Despite his weariness, Elrond was determined to find out what had happened this night. After making sure that Glorfindel was doing as well as possible considering the circumstances, the healer changed into more comfortable clothing. Silently closing the door, Elrond crossed the corridor to enter the sickroom of Elvëa’s second victim.

When he opened the door, Erestor looked at him with a dark expression.

“How is he?” he asked his cold voice betraying his worry. Elrond silently closed the door and approached him. Critically, he eyed his counsellor. Erestor´s right shoulder was thickly bandaged and immobilized, but apart from a pale complexion the elf seemed alright.

Elrond sat on the edge of the bed and inhaled deeply.

“Glorfindel is sleeping now. I stitched a pierced liver and closed a sliced artery. The blood loss however was great and he will need time to recover.”

Erestor nodded and closed his eyes briefly.

“What happened Erestor?” Elrond asked. The dark haired elf opened his eyes reluctantly. Elrond had still not learned how Erestor had come to be injured and why Elvëa had suddenly lost control.

“I was working late with Lindir at the library. I was on my way back to my rooms when I recognized a shadow behind me but it was already too late.

Elvëa had rammed a sword in my right shoulder before I could even blink. In my shock and pain, I punched her back with a hard blow but she recovered quickly. Before I could even rise, she had pulled open the door to Glorfindel´s rooms, reached his bed and stabbed him with her sword. Had Lindir and the guard not come to our aid we would be dead.”

Elrond eyes had widened. Elvëa had purposefully attacked both elves with the intention to kill? He was hard pressed to believe that, yet the results he had just treated.

Shaking his head he rose. From the beginning he had a bad feeling about this woman. He deepest fears had sadly come true. He would end this spectacle once and for all.

He had just received the information that Elvëa had been captured and was now secured in one of the cells. This demon would never again come near to someone he cared for. He would made sure of that.

To be continued………………………..

Chapter 12:  bitter truth

Elrond jerked his head up when he heard a moan. He must have dozed off while keeping watch over his patient. For three days now, Glorfindel had been unconscious, but finally he seemed to awaken.

The healer let out his breath and dragged his chair closer. Patiently he waited until the warrior finally opened his eyes.

“Elrond what happened?” the warrior rasped out, his face contorting in pain while trying to rise.

Quickly Elrond placed hand on the wounded elf’s shoulder.

“Glorfindel, you must not move too much. The wound can still re-open.”

With a sigh, the warrior sank back on his pillow.

“Where’s Elvëa?” he asked.

Elrond raised an eyebrow. Obliviously, Glorfindel was unaware what had happened three nights ago. However, a deep frown had appeared on the warrior´s face.

“What do you know?” Elrond asked carefully while studying the warrior intently.

The frown on the Troop Commander’s face deepened and his breathing increased.

Not sure if the warrior could not or did not want to remember, Elrond leaned forward. He was not sure if the elf was yet strong enough to endure the truth. Coming to a decision, the Elf-lord took a deep breath.

“Glorfindel, Elvëa attacked you two nights ago. I do not yet know what happened to her or what had caused this reaction, but it was a near thing that you survived……”

Opening his eyes in shock, Glorfindel tried to rise again.

“No!” he cried while still struggling to sit up.

Again restricting the warrior a second time, Elrond sighed.

“Glorfindel, I do not know if she has lost her mind or is now under control of someone else, but she came to your room with the intention to kill.”

Glorfindel had finally relented and sunk back on his pillow.

“I cannot believe you, why should she want to kill me….?” the warrior asked his voice a near whisper.

“I have not yet spoken with her, but she has also injured Erestor…..”

“Elrond please leave me alone,” Glorfindel said softly, turning his face away.

“Glorfindel……”

“…please, Elrond, go!”

Taking a deep breath the healer rose and left the room. He would come back later.

………………………………..

Elrond stepped down the stairs leading into the cellar of the Last Homely House and into the wing housing the cells.

For decades, these cells had been unoccupied and used as storerooms.

The healer had never thought it possible that he would have need of one of the cells before he would depart these shores. After capturing Elvëa, Elrond had seen no other option then to secure the woman here. She had no longer reacted to any attempt at reason. She had even injured two more guards before she could be restrained.

Tinár, his chief healer had been unable to treat her. She was hysterical and non compliant. While being busy treating Erestor and Glorfindel the Elf-lord had not been able to spare the time to visit the woman. Now, however, he wanted to talk to her himself.

He rounded a corner and gave a signal to the guard standing watch. With two further strides, he stepped at the bars of the cell, feeling the burning gaze of the guard in his back.

Elvëa was sitting on a simple wooden bench, her back resting on the wall behind, her eyes closed.

Elrond was again shocked at the haggard state of the woman and again he wondered how this elf could even rise, even less be able to run away and put up a fight. Her whole body was covered with bruises and cuts. Her long golden hair was dirty and hanging down in lifeless threads.

Before Elrond could even utter one word, she had sprung up and grabbed a handful of the Elf-lord’s robe with her hand stretched through the bars.

The guard had sprung forward but Elrond stopped him with a raised hand. He pried the cramped fingers loose and shoved the woman back.

She stumbled backwards but her eyes sparkled darkly.

“I will kill you and all the others. You will not stop me, elf,” she cried her voice breaking.

Elrond’s intention to inquire what had happened to her had instantly evaporated into thin air. The report from the guards had not been exaggerated then. Elvëa had lost her mind or some evil had occupied her soul.

She was pacing the cell, snarling and hissing, from time to time coming to the bars and hammering her hands against them.

Elrond shook his head and turned. His initial fears had come true. Elvëa was a threat to his valley and the elves he had sworn to protect. If it had been present from the beginning or if something had taken control over her only lately did not matter.

This woman could never be transformed into the elf Glorfindel had seen or hoped to find in her.

When Elrond had again reached the top stairs, he had given orders to intensify the observation of the woman. If there were some evil magic the Istari had placed in this elf then he would take no chances.

First he had to consult with his councillors. The threat had to be removed from his valley.

………………………………

“Master Elrond, I need your assistance.”

Elrond sighed and rose. Tinár had already turned on his heels and left the healer’s study. Elrond had not to ask why his assistant healer was in need of his help.

When he neared Glorfindel’s sickroom the irritation in his chief healer’s voice was quite clear to hear.

Quickly, Elrond stepped into the room after motioning his colleague that he would take over.

Glorfindel was agitatedly debating with a member of Elrond’s staff that he was quite able to rise and was in no need of help with his dressing.

“Glorfindel stop this. Calan, please leave us alone.”

The helper quickly left the room while the warrior turned with an incredulous expression on his face.

“Elrond, your healers will not allow me to leave my bed. I’m perfectly able…….”

“No, you are not and they only follow my orders,” Elrond retorted with a much too controlled voice.

“Three days ago I had to use all my skills to save your life. You are not in a condition to rise, let alone walk around.”

The healer´s eyes had narrowed. His anger was palpable.

Clad only in his leggings the warrior sank back on his bed.

“Elrond, I want to see Elvëa. I can still not believe that she has tried to kill me,” the warrior said, his expression still defiant.

“The wound in your abdomen should be evidence enough,” Elrond answered. The healer took a deep breath. Why could he not control his irritation?

Seeing that the warrior had lowered his gaze Elrond sat beside him on the mattress.

“Glorfindel, something drastic has happened to Elvëa. She is no longer a woman; I even doubt she is an elf anymore. Something dark and sinister is speaking from within her. Her being has been twisted beyond recognition.”

Elrond closed his eyes briefly. Three times, he had tried to get in contact with what was once the lost soul they had rescued from Ortanc. Three times, he had failed. He had not even had a chance to speak a few words.

Elvëa had every time snarled and hissed at him and had it not been for the bars between them he was sure she would attack without warning.

Glorfindel was not strong enough to experience this, at least not yet.

“Elrond, I have to see for myself,” the warrior said with a pleading voice. “She must be out of her mind with fear,” he added his eyes still focussed on his lap.

“I assure you she is not. Give it one more day and then I will accompany you,” Elrond suggested and the warrior only nodded.

Elrond sighed and rose. One fight won but the war was still looming ahead.

To be continued………………………

Chapter 13:  clean sweep

A week had now gone by since Glorfindel had last visited Elvëa. Elrond had really hoped that the warrior would be able to reach her. Yet she had reacted to him just like every other visitor. She had berated and cried at the elf, and had called him names Elrond was not willing to repeat.

She had not paused in her ranting and listened for even a moment. Glorfindel had tried three more times, yet always with the same result. Finally, he had given up, his soul sore. He had accepted that he had lost Elvëa a second time. The being down in the cells was no longer the love he had so briefly found again.

The elves ruling Imladris were now sitting together to decide how to proceed further. The date for departure had been delayed twice, but Elrond was no longer willing to wait. All the preparations had been made to depart. The twin sons of the Elf-lord would still reside at the valley for the time being, but Elrond did not want to leave the unsolved problem of Elvëa behind. Fortunately, some insight had returned to the warrior´s mind and now they would discuss how to proceed.

Many options had already been discussed, but still no satisfying solution had been found. The most pressing question was still not answered. Was Elvëa simply possessed and was there a chance to free her from whatever has befallen her, or was she simply a mirage created for them to fall victim to a vanquished Istari´s plans?

“I still suggest taking her along and leaving her in the wild,” Erestor said slowly, wearied from a discussion without end.

“And then what? Chase her away and shoot an arrow in her back?” Glorfindel hissed and sprung to his feet. Elrond eyed his friend sceptically. He was still not sure how the warrior had handled the loss of his love.

He had said not a word about what had happened. His current comment did not bode well however.

“Of course not,” Elrond retorted, yet we cannot take her with us, nor can we leave her here. It would be best for her…..”

Glorfindel whirled around.

“You want to kill her?”

The healer closed his eyes briefly.

“Glorfindel, she is no longer in her right mind. She is suffering and I have the means to make her death as comfortable as possible. Her suffering, bodily and mentally, would end.”

“No!” Glorfindel cried. “Not as long as I draw breath. There has to be another way.”

With this, the warrior turned and left the room.

………………………….

Two weeks later, Elrond had nearly lost hope that any workable solution to their problem could be achieved. He had almost accepted that he would lose his long time companion, because Glorfindel had made no attempt to prepare for their journey so far.

The healer was very surprised when his Troop commander came to his office early in the morning.

“I agree to end her suffering, but I decide how and I will do it,” he declared with a determined voice while looking at the healer intently. Maybe some explanation how he came to this decision?

Elrond heaved a relieved breath.

“Off course. I will prepare everything and you tell me when you are ready.”

Glorfindel only nodded and left the room.

……………………….

The syringe with the narcotic agent clutched in his hand Glorfindel stepped down the stairs. Meanwhile, he was certain he was doing the right thing. Again he had tried to reason with Elvëa, had cried and shouted with her, had pleaded and even slapped her, but nothing had again brought forth the woman he loved more then life. Elvëa had vanished, replaced by an empty shell occupied by a twisted mind controlled by an unknown evil.

After the injection, she would fall into a deep sleep and her heartbeat would slow down until it would stop completely. Elrond had assured him that she would know nothing of all this. She would sleep and never awaken.

Glorfindel had already ordered that no guard should witness what was to come. He wanted to be alone with Elvëa.

When he stopped at the cell door, she was sitting on the wooden bench eyeing him, but saying nothing. This was new. Until now, she had ranted and cried the moment someone had come around the corner.

“Elvëa?” Glorfindel said and to his great surprise she reacted by standing up. Glorfindel swallowed. All the progress she had made in the last months had vanished. She looked like the corpse he had first held in his arms in the depths of Orthanc.

The warrior unlooked the cell door and stepped inside. Slowly he came nearer. He was already prepared for another verbal attack but quite the opposite happened. Elvëa looked at him and the mad expression had vanished from her eyes.

“Glorfindel where have you been?” she whispered, her cold fingers clutching around his forearm.

The warrior stepped back shocked. What was happening here? Even if nothing was left from the beautiful woman Elvëa once was, he could still glimpse shreds of her former self, of her beauty, of her love, of her gentleness. Her soft voice was raspy now but somehow familiar……

He swallowed again and clutched the syringe in his hand tighter. He would never be able to administer the drug if she looked at him with these lovely eyes. Never!

Maybe the possession was over? Maybe she had returned, had overcome what had ailed her?

“Elvëa, I…..” he whispered, burying the syringe deeper in the folds of his rope. She was now standing just a breath away, her face turned slightly upwards…..

“My love,” she said softly, “we will be reunited in death.”

Before the words had sunk in, Glorfindel felt a stabbing pain in his upper back.

Staggering back, he tried to draw breath, but the burning only increased. Elvëa was holding a spiky object in her hand. The mad gleam had returned to her eyes.

“You fool. Elves are so easy to corrupt.”

With these words, she raised her arm for another strike but Glorfindel had regained his breath and balance.

Intercepting her hand in mid-air, he turned her around and injected the syringe in her neck. Her struggles continued, but slowed considerably until she was hanging loose in his arms.

Ignoring the pain in his back, he lifted the light body in his arms and placed it on the bench. The long rusty nail fell from her limp fingers and clattered to the floor.

Tears were rolling down his face, which were not caused by the new injury. He laid his head on her breast listening to her shallow breathing and her slowing heartbeat. Endless minutes it seemed to him but finally her heart had stopped.

Mustering all his strength, Glorfindel rose and turned. He was no longer willing to look into his beloved’s pale face knowing that he would carry the guilt in killing her for endless eons.

After only one step, however, he heard a noise behind him. Before his befuddled mind could comprehend what was happening, he recognized a movement at the cell door.

Elrond was storming into the cell closely followed by Erestor. A second later, he was pushed out of the way, only to be caught by the strong arms of Erestor. Freeing himself of the supporting hands and ignoring the ever increasing pain in his back, Glorfindel turned around again.

The dizziness caused by the blood loss let him watch the scene unfolding before him only through a haze, yet his heart nearly skipped a beat at the sight.

Elvëa was standing upright the rusty nail again in her hand. She had her hand raised high in the air again, poised to strike the dark haired Elf-lord standing right in front of her.

Again, her hand was caught in mid-air and with a strong push Elrond shoved the skinny woman back toward the opposite wall. Glorfindel and Elvëa uttered a cry at the same time.

Outwardly untouched by this, Elrond raised his right hand and Glorfindel instantly knew what would happen next. Elrond would call upon the power of the ring.

“Release me!” Glorfindel growled when Erestor again grabbed his left elbow. Ignoring the comment and the Vanya´s flashing eyes, Erestor only tightened his hold. Unable to escape, Glorfindel could only watch on in horror.

Before Elvëa had regained her balance, the Ring of Air unveiled itself on Elrond´s finger. A blue light was instantly spreading and covering every part of the small room. Quickly the light increased in intensity and soon Glorfindel had to shield his eyes.

Only Elrond seemed to be unfazed by the shining beam now directed against Elvëa. An unearthly cry came from the she-elf while she was again pushed back against the wall. Glorfindel cracked open an eye and observed in shock how Elvëa was changing under the impact of pure energy.

All what had made her elf-like, her long golden hair, her fine features, her slim appearance seemed to inflate, to waver. Her face was contorted in rage and pain until nothing was left that was making her a living being.

Glorfindel had closed his eyes and slumped to his knees, dragging Erestor down with him. He no longer wanted witness how the power of the ring was destroying the one woman he had really loved.

He remained a little longer in this position until he heard an odd grating noise. Lifting his head, he scrambled back. The light had vanished, yet the slumped body of Elvëa had begun to decompose.

Within seconds nothing more then a thin layer of dust was left.

Weakened from the blood loss and shock he sank to the ground and placing his head on the cold stone floor, his gaze was directed at nothing until unconsciousness took him.

……………………………………………..

Vairë was looking at the scene she had just woven into her tapestry, yet the scene felt unreal, as if someone else had guided her hand. She had not been aware of the scene unfolding, nor had she intended what had come out of it.

This concept was new to her and strange. She had ever been the creator of all the fates of their children but this life line had totally developed on its own and even the end was not her making.

She shook her head, sadness and anger duelling in her mind. How could the fate of this poor soul have gone astray this much without her noticing it? She had never had the chance to interfere.

“It’s not your fault, my love.”

The thought was suddenly in her mind. Not having recognized her spouse´s approach Vairë was surprised a second time in a row.

“Off course it is my fault,” she retorted more vehemently then she intended.

Námo was gliding closer. He enveloped his mate in his light blue, his shining aura placating her churned up mind. He was as agitated as his wife, because something like that had not happened before.

Some major evil had invaded this life line and created all this horror. Not really feeling any regret the Valier nonetheless felt some kind of responsibility. Even if Vairë had interfered, she could no longer take any influence on the developing fate. She had hoped for some positive effect from their favourite elf, but even mighty Glorfindel could not reverse what had been done.

Sadly, Vairë ended the thread of Elvëa´s life and made a knot at the end.

“One thing we can do at long last,” Námo announced. For the first time Vairë smiled knowing what her husband was talking about.

He would lift the ban, and the poor soul would finally find her way home. Vairë was already informing her sister Nienna to take all sorrow from the she elf´s shoulders and give Elvëa the peace she had long deserved.

…………………………………………………

Elrond looked with worry at the rigid back of his counsellor. Glorfindel was leaning seemingly casually at the doorframe of the great window opening up the Hall of Fire to the grand garden. For an ingenuous onlooker, a normal scene, but to the trained healer’s eye, Glorfindel was the image of a wounded soul.

The bodily wound Elvëa had inflicted was long healed, yet the scar on the soul of the proud warrior would need much more time to heal and it remained to be seen if it would heal at all.

Elrond had been shocked to find his counsellor again at the brink of death after another attack by the woman they had a second time underestimated. Their ruse to kill her and let her die in peace had failed. Now it was clear that a strong magic was behind all this and only an equal riposte could free them of whatever the Istari had placed in the body of this woman.

After Glorfindel´s recovery, Elrond had long tried to reason with the warrior, yet every word of reason or comfort had only proved that his counsellor had receded deeper into himself. Now he did not even respond to anything said to him.

Elrond was not sure what was really going on at the warrior´s mind. He had known the ancient elf now over such a long time but again and again Elrond discovered that there was so much he did not know at all about the Elf-lord.

He was not even sure what had made the elf react as he did. Was he mourning, was he angry, hurt, embarrassed – all of them or none?

Elrond still had major doubts that the woman now crumbled to dust had really been Elvëa. He still believed that she was an apparition the Istari had conjured up to reach and hurt them at last. How this had been possible would forever remain a mystery.

The question that was running in his mind, however, was where the soul of Elvëa had vanished to? Or had her intellect never existed, replaced from the beginning with this demon they had discovered many nights ago? Questions to which Elrond could find no answer.

But was it not foolish to think about it at all? Elvëa was gone and nothing would bring her back. It was a simple as that.

Yet even Elrond could not stop thinking about the mysterious appearance of the elf woman. Had they all suffered an illusion and only seen what they wanted to see? Or had Elvëa really suffered all this imaginable long time at the hand of the Istari only to be used to bring harm to them?

As assured as Elrond was, he no longer knew what he should think. Glorfindel´s strong reaction to this woman could not only be ascribed to an infamous sorcerer’s plot. Glorfindel was intelligent and smart, ever immune to every influence from the outside – however good or bad it might be.

Had his sharp mind be mistaken this time, or had Elvëa simply

been his soul´s mate and they had done her a great wrong?

Again, Elrond shook his head. How could he comfort his friend when doubts were relentlessly gnawing at his own mind?

Yet a solution had to be found. All was long prepared to depart – many of the inhabitants of Imladris were really on edge about the long expected, but ever delayed departure. Elrond knew he had to give the signal for the departure soon. He wanted to avoid a breaking apart of all the carefully made plans and schedules. He had after all more souls than one to care for, yet…..

“Glorfindel…”

The name had barely left his lips when the golden haired warrior whirled around.

“Elrond, stop skirting around me as if I could break apart at every moment. And my answer is still no. I will not come with you.”

Not leaving the dark haired elf the tiniest chance to react in any way, Glorfindel turned and left the room.

To be continued…….     

A/N:

I´m so sorry for the long delay, but real time has stolen all my time.....

Chapter 14: a final farewell

Elrond had sworn to himself that he would not look back, yet he could not resist the temptation.

After letting his gaze wander over the long row of wagons, riders and travellers on foot, he turned and looked for a last time at the house he had built.

Elrond sighed. He knew that the parting would be hard for him. So much happiness as well as sorrow had happened under this roof. To leave all of his children behind was unbearable, yet to know that his long-time companion, friend, and mentor would also not leave these shores with him made it even more painful. Even the impending reunion with his beloved could not dampen the sorrow in his heart.

Since Glorfindel had announced that he would not accompany the elves leaving Imladris, Elrond had once more tried to reason with the warrior with the same result. Glorfindel would stay in Middle earth, the real reason behind this was still unclear to Elrond.

While withdrawing even more into himself, during the last week Glorfindel had vanished from the valley entirely. Until today, he had not shown up again. Even if still hoping that he would reconsider at the last moment Elrond had been worried. He only hoped that the warrior needed more time to come to terms and that nothing had happened to his friend.

The episode with Elvëa had afflicted the warrior even more than Elrond had expected. Glorfindel had gone through so many ups and downs with him and his family in the past, but never had he been so involved on a personal level as with Elvëa. It did not matter that Elvëa most likely was only an apparition of the Istari – Glorfindel had believed her real and was all the more so shocked that he had lost her again.

Finally, Elrond gave the signal for the departure. The row of wagons and riders began to move and this time the Elf-lord did not look back. He could delay the egress not one minute longer.

He rode in the middle of the baggage with no indication that he was the leader of these elves. By leaving these shores, he would give up all entitlements of being an Elf-lord, his ring had lost its great power since the destruction of the one ring anyway. To break the spell of the elf-woman, it had barely sufficed, but he felt the continued fading of the once powerful instrument from day to day.

The Elf-lord´s twin sons had agreed to meet their father at the harbour for the final farewell, yet after a note from Erestor they had decided to make the trip to the Grey Havens with their father and therefor had shown up yesterday.

Elrond had been irritated at this decision and even if the healer had assured them that he was alright, Elladan and Elrohir knew that he was not. Bad enough that Glorfindel would not come, but that he would not even say farewell was worst. The twins had many nights searched the lands around their home to find a trace of their once time mentor, but the ancient elf remained missing. They knew that if Glorfindel did not want to be found they would not find him.

Even though there was much singing and chatting among the group the atmosphere around Elrond felt depressed. When the Elf-lord let out a moan and cringed over his horse´s neck, Elladan swore under his breath.

“Father!” Elrohir cried while coming alongside. Elladan closed the gap at the other side. The Elf-lord however had already straightened and looked annoyed.

“I am well,” he said with an irritated undertone and Elrohir refrained from inquiring further, knowing that would only kindle his sire´s ire further. He directed a concerned gaze at his brother. Elladan´s stormy grey eyes narrowed. It was well into the afternoon and so he called for a halt.

“We will make camp for the night,” he announced with authority and left no room for argument. The guards riding on the outskirts of the group dismounted and vanished into the trees to begin the night watch.

Elladan ignored the displeased look of his father and left to organize the preparation of their evening meal. He would leave the talking to his brother. He was better at that anyway.

………………………………………………..

Elrond, dozing at the base of a tree, jerked upright. He had heard something. With a quick look at the night sky, he judged that it was well past midnight.

They had long left the lands around Imladris, had travelled along the East-west road, skirted Bree and the Shire after traversing through the Old Forest. Now they crossed the land of Arthedain and had now made camp at the foot of the hills of Far Downs.

Elrond had slowly risen and listened again. Had his senses fooled him or was there only a nocturnal animal scurrying between the trees? He looked at his youngest son, but Elrohir was staring into the fames of the campfire, his eyes half closed.

At that moment, Elrond felt a presence behind him, but it was already too late to react. Strong arms had circled him and he felt warm breath and heard a whisper in his ear:

“Your guards are not very attentive. You and the others at the camp are easy prey.”

Elrond let out his breath after recognizing the voice.

“I´m sure my guards have already detected who is stalking through the night and refrained from intervening.”

Glofindel released the other Elf-lord and snorted. He waited until his friend had turned around. He searched the healer´s eyes because he had not missed the irritated tone in the other´s voice. He frowned at the blank expression on Elrond´s face.

Elrohir who had sprung up after the initial word exchange gazed uneasily between his father and his mentor. He was not sure what to make of this situation. The initial joy of seeing Glorfindel had given way to worry. His father´s reaction was awkward. A low whistle, however let him leave the clearing. The brothers vanished into the trees as seemed to have all the other elves.

Elrond motioned for the warrior to follow him to the campfire. Glorfindel briefly closed his eyes but finally sat opposite his Lord on a fallen log. For a long time silence reigned between the friends. Elrond finally raised his head.

“Where have you been, Glorfindel?”

Where Glorfindel had expected displeasure, or even anger, he only heard sorrow and disappointment in the other´s voice. He raised an eyebrow. He was the one with the cause for sorrow. He had lost all that was dear to him. He was not willing to ask for …..

Elrond´s eyes narrowed and Glorfindel´s eyes flew open. He had not spoken aloud, but his thoughts stood between them as if he had just done that.

And now Glorfindel was able to get a glimpse into his friend’s mind. And he shrank back. Elrond had twice saved his life of late, he had day and night tried to bring Elvëa back from the brink of death had poured healing energy into her emaciated body until total exhaustion overcame him. He had even allowed her into his valley against better judgement. He had always counselled caution with the mysterious woman.

Only now Glorfindel recognized what the unexpected appearance of Elvëa had cost. He lowered his head and took a shuddering breath.

“Elrond, I´m…….”

He stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He had not even realised when the other Elf-lord had moved beside him.

He raised his head and looked into the familiar grey eyes of Earendil´s son.

“I´m glad you have come,” Elrond said softly, still maintaining the physical contact.

“Will you now come with us?”

Glorfindel smiled. How could he have lost touch with these elves that were to him the same as family – no, being family?

He swallowed when suddenly a depressing weight was taken from his shoulders. He would always miss Elvëa, yet he had lost her a long time ago and learned to live with that. The impact of her reappearance was already fading.

When the first harbinger of the new day glittered through the trees, he raised his face into the sky with a contented smile on his face. He knew whom he had to thank for this emotional change.

Elrond sighed. He was well aware what was going on in the warrior´s mind and he was more than glad.

“Come,” he said softly.

“We have still a long way ahead and who knows something that is lost on these shores may be found again on other shores.”

Glorfindel whirled around. His heart begun to pound. Soon they would reach the Blessed realm and maybe, only maybe………

He quickly crossed the distance to the already leaving Elf-lord.

“Come my friend, we have already lost much time. Let us be on our way.”

Elrond only raised an eyebrow. Then he closed his eyes and directed his senses westwards.

´I´m on my way, beloved. Maybe you can invite someone else to greet us?´

`I´m awaiting you two and I´m sure something can be arranged. Please hurry, beloved!`

The end.

A/N:

this is for you, Fiondil. I´m still missing you terribly.....