***Mithlond, SA 1600***

 “But that’s impossible!” Nerhedir reached for another piece of bread.  “No one has come from the West since King Finarfin and his host!”

“It’s the truth!” Hithuben passed him the butter. “I heard it from my cousin. His son is a page to Lord Elrond’s scribe’s brother!”

I took a sip of my wine. “The only way to verify this claim is to venture down to the docks ourselves and ascertain the truth of the matter.”

“Then what are we waiting for!”  Nerhedir finished his bread in two bites and bounded towards the door. Hithuben and I opted for a somewhat more dignified pace.

I swallowed down the sour taste in my mouth as I reached the docks. Perhaps this visit was unwise. I should have stayed in Eregion. My heart beat as swiftly as a hummingbird’s wings in its attempt to fly out of my chest. I closed my eyes and reminded myself that this was Mithlond. The waves sloshed upon the shore at a gentle tempo, like the lullabies my mother used to sing, back before…before everything. I slowed my breaths to match their rhythm. No clashing of metal, no screams of terror, no smell of blood or smoke. Just the waves, and the birds, and the sounds of sailors unloading the ships. Mithlond.

“It’s probably just traders from Númenor!” Nerhedir shaded his eyes with his hand as he stared out toward the approaching ship.

“No, it can’t be.” Hithuben climbed the last few rungs up to the watch tower and stood beside him. “It’s too small, for one, and there’s something of the Swan Ships about it.”

When I reached the top and looked out, my jaw clenched. Who would dare to fly the banner of the House of the Golden Flower? It was a mockery!  I remembered that House and its laughing lord. He used to slip me sweets under the table, and sing me songs of Valinor, and let me watch as he bested my father at swordplay. Who would dare to claim his banner while he was in Mandos? I blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. My last memory of that lord had lost none of its sharpness in the intervening years.

***Gondolin, FA 510***

Naneth¹ held my hand as we huddled with other survivors in the square. “Close your eyes.” She said. “You don’t need to see this.” I did as she instructed, but I could still hear the ring of metal on metal and the foul cries of the Orcs. I tried to stop trembling. There was no need to trouble Naneth further with my fears.

An arrow pierced her heart. I wanted to stay with her, but a strong hand pulled me away. “She’s safe with Mandos now, child,” Glorfindel said. “She would want you to escape. So does your ada².”

I was too stunned to even weep. “Savo hîdh nen gurth³,” I whispered as I left my nana for the last time. I tried not to look too closely at the bodies of the fallen as I followed Princess Idril and the others to the secret tunnel. I wanted to go to Ada, but he was fighting off orcs. It was all I could do to keep up with Princess Idril and the others, for I was still quite small and my festival clothes were not made for running.

By the time we made it into the mountains, I felt as though my feet had become all blisters. I shivered, wishing for my cloak. I could not go to the adults for comfort. Between supporting the injured and watching for enemies, they had no energy left to spare.

It was in this state that we reached Cirith Thoronath, where the Balrog attacked. Try as I might, I couldn’t look away. A single claw was the length of my forearm, and darkness surrounded his form. I scarcely even noticed the orcs and the warriors who battled them all around me, so transfixed was my gaze.

“You shall not this day escape the wrath of my master!” The balrog laughed.

Glorfindel charged. His sword reflected the flame of the balrog’s whip, and his voice rose in a song of power. Their battle was a blur. Finally, the balrog fell, and so did Glorfindel.

***Mithlond, SA 1600***

Who would now dare to fly that banner? Anger fueled my need to know. I climbed halfway down the ladder and jumped from there, beginning to sprint as soon as my boots hit the sand.  Gulls scattered, cawing indignantly, as I ran through a cluster of them. I ignored them and kept running. I didn’t stop until I reached the end of the dock where the ship was putting down its anchor.

As soon as I caught my breath, I lost it again. Could it be? I ducked behind a group of sailors. I could not speak to this ellon⁴. Not now, not after what I had done. I couldn’t lie, not to him, and I couldn’t bear the thought of his rejection.

King Gil-galad himself approached the newcomer, with Lord Elrond beside him. “Mae le 'ovannen⁵! It seems the Valar have smiled upon us this day. We had not dared to hope that any who had journeyed to Mandos’ halls would walk again in Middle Earth. Allow me to introduce Elrond Eärendilion, my herald. Elrond, this is Lord Glorfindel, who served your grandfather.”

Lord Glorfindel kneeled. “Well met indeed, my king. The Valar warn of troubles yet to come for those who abide in the Hither Lands, and I come to aid in vanquishing the Shadow should it appear again.” He then looked at Lord Elrond. “Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn⁶. Long have I wished to see the son of Eärendil with my own eyes. Your kin in the West have not forgotten you, yet I perceive that great deeds lie in your path before you meet them again. I will serve and protect you for as long as you dwell here, unless Mandos should call me again.”

“Far be it from me to deny the friendship of one so noble!” Lord Elrond extended his hand and raised his newest retainer to his feet.

It was then that Lord Glorfindel’s eyes caught mine “Egalmoth’s boy. Can it be?” My face was pressed into a strong chest as fingers stroked my hair.

I choked back a sob. Such familiarity and safety in this embrace, but… “Lord Glorfindel, I am no longer the innocent child you remember. Dark has been my path, and my deeds bring shame upon me and my house. I shall not hold it against you should you wish to sever all ties.”

Glorfindel stepped back, although the warm hands stayed on my shoulders. “What is it that you’ve done, pinig⁷? Whatever it is, we can work past it. We lords of Gondolin have to stick together, after all. And since when have you called me Lord outside a formal setting?”

I sighed. Loathe as I was to speak of it, Lord Glorfindel deserved the truth. Looking at my boots, I began my tale.

***Havens of Sirion, FA 538 ***

“The sons of Fëanor have come for the Silmaril!”

Adar spared no time for donning armor. He merely seized his sword and sprinted toward the door.

“Stay here, iôn nîn⁸. If the battle reaches you, flee!”

I had already lost one parent and one realm. I could not stand idly by. I retrieved my adar’s extra sword, for my own was wooden and meant only for training.

I had scarcely set foot out the door before the battle found me. The people of the Havens fought valiantly, unwilling to cede our Lady and her Silmaril to the Kinslayers. I sought to follow my adar, but an ellon blocked my path.

“This does not have to happen!” He barred my way with his sword. “If your people will but surrender Lady Elwing and the Silmaril, we will be on our way. We can stand against Morgoth together! Just take me to your Lady, and all will be well.”

“Never!” I had no time to say more, for I was busy blocking his sword.

Clash. I blocked his first strike. The second slit my tunic as I side-stepped. His pace increased. I slashed at him, but he parried, nicking my forearm in the process. I lunged for his legs. His counter knocked me to the ground.

“Ambarussa! The Ambarussa have fallen!” Someone cried out.

My attacker turned to look. I slashed his thigh. At once, red blood gushed out, not in a trickle, but in enormous spurts. I stood and ran.

Where would Adar have gone? He would want to send Lady Elwing and her children to the safety of Balar. To do that, he would first need to signal the incoming ships. I made for the cliff overlooking the docks.

“Surrender the Silmaril, and you will not be harmed!” A one-handed warrior with fiery red hair stood before Lady Elwing.

“It is mine by right. You are too foul to touch it, Kinslayer!” She backed toward the edge of the cliff.

I did not hear the remainder of their conversation. I had found my father, just as a sword slit his throat.

I slipped up behind his attacker and struck a killing blow. My tears dripped onto my father’s prone form.

Splash. Lady Elwing was no longer on the cliff. 

What purpose remained in fighting? I fled. It was only later that I learned how the surviving sons of Fëanor had taken Elwing’s sons. Perhaps if I had fought on, I could have protected them.

**Mithlond, SA 1600 ***

“I became a Kinslayer, and all for naught! Renounce me if you will, for I do not deserve your pity, let alone your love.”

“Oh, my brave little warrior.” Gentle fingers brushed the tears from my cheeks.” You did the best you could in an impossible situation. Even if you had not, I could never stop loving you. I am just glad you survived, Erestor.”

I closed my eyes and leaned into his embrace. So many had died, but at least one had returned.

***Translations (mostly from realelvish.net)***

1. 1. Naneth: mother

2. 2. Ada: dad (Adar: father)

3.3. Savo hîdh nen gurth^: Have peace in death.

4.4. Ellon: male elf

5.5. Mae le 'ovannen:  Well met!

6.6. Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn: A star shines on the hour of our meeting.

7.7. Pinig: my little one

8.8. iôn nîn: my son