Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to the works of J.R.R Tolkien. Faernen is a character of my own creation.

The events within this oneshot take place prior to the events of 'The Hobbit' and 'Lord of the Rings'. The Glorfindel in this piece has been influenced by my own ideas of how he looked/acted, but should mostly match the canonical information on him. What I aimed to do was develop him further (in my mind) so that it was easier to write.

Please enjoy!

Heavily

All her breath was spent on a single command.

"Run."

When one heard the harsh cries that promised pain and death, it was all you could do. Although the idea was distasteful, on that day Faernen heeded her own advice; she later found herself to never lament it.

The horse beneath her quickened her pace. Dirt was kicked into the air, and though the wind tore through her pale hair, she felt it still wasn't fast enough. Hell rode at her heels, carried by the speed of wargs and the thirst that came with finding their prey to be a lone elleth.

For as calm as Faernen may have looked, it was an inescapable truth that, be they Man, Elf, or any of the other peoples of Middle Earth, when death was imminent so too was fear. It could be seen in how she tensed her body, and her hand resting against blade on her hip. Her brows were drawn; the angular beauty of her face set hard, blue eyes flitting around in search for a way out.

On the wide plateau of grass, there was no escape. Hiding was pointless, and all she could do was hope that the arrows shot her way would miss their mark.

It was a game. The harsh, orcish language called out behind her did nothing but spur her forward.

"Noro!" she cried again.

Thinelroch, her horse, listened well and obeyed. Faernen was steadfast in her believe that wargs were no match for elvish horses.

Her ears caught the whine of an arrow through air. With seconds to spare, Faernen guided her horse to the left. The arrow missed her just barely, sending her heart racing. She had no desire to die, yet the risk battle brought was exciting regardless.

She had to make it Rivendell.

The issue was how to arrive, desirably without the company of her pursuers. Faernen wondered if she should try and rid herself of them on her own. There were more than a few tricks she knew to survive in a fight; she was no elfling, new to the world and its ways.

A light curse tore from her lips, a colourful sentence spat out in elvish. The beauty of being alone was the absence of eyes and their owner's silent judgements.

An unintelligible, growling command echoed behind her. "Aim for the legs!"

"Thinelroch!" Faernen exclaimed.

She directed her golden-coloured mare to the left. A quick glance back, and her sharp eyes caught the tips of three arrows heading towards her. Without thought, merely actions based on instinct, Faernen then changed course once more. It was lucky that she did, or she may not have been fortunate enough to avoid the arrows.

"Noro! Noro!" Faernen cried again, urging her horse to continue to run.

But Thinelroch had already pushed herself to her limit, and the wargs that followed were just as tireless. She knew she must hurry, craft her own path to freedom, yet escape seemed impossible. Faernen's right hand remained on her sword hilt.

Thinelroch's hooves thundered against the ground, kicking up dirt as she thought to turn around the small, stony cliff that protruded from the ground. A shadow fell over Faernen, and she did not have to look up to understand what had happened.

There was a growl, not a warg's, but the guttural one of an orc.

He stood atop of the minute cliff, and it was all Faernen could do to draw her sword before he jumped. She toppled from the horse, a fowl stench and meaty arms pushing her over. Control was imperative.

It was Faernen's kill. Her heart thudded even as her blade landed in his body.

"Thinelroch!" the elleth commanded her horse with a single summon.

The mare had already begun slowing, eager to race back to its master. Her golden coat shimmered in the distance, mane a shade a darker but no less brilliant. The bond between rider and steed was strong, and had been for all their years together.

"Kill the she-elf!"

Swiftly, she spun. The glint of metal alerted her to the incoming threat, and she dodged neatly. A step to the side was enough to escape her demise yet again. Indeed it seemed that today, death was not eager to take one such as Faernen Istien.

They will not take me anywhere, she decided. Faernen adopted a defensive stance, disregarding the impracticality of battling in a dress.

"Tolo! Come!" she challenged.

The warg-riders were almost upon her, whilst her anticipation of a fight existed already. She needed no prompt, yet one was given to her; a single, pure horn sounded across the plain.

She had begged them come, and they came; not the orcs, but a race of a rather different kind. Elves.

Faernen stood alone on the field, a crescent of warg-riders gathering around her. Yet, where once they had thirsted for blood, their expression spoke now of fear. The horn sounded again, and the thundering of hooves echoed across the air.

"Come." Faernen stated again.

The company of Elves fell upon them like water upon rock, a common purge to rid the land of filth. She did not blink, nor move, and took only delight at the feeling of hope that rose within her.

Now standing tall and true, the soft, white curls of her hair could be seen to be at breast-length. She kept it bound away from the face with two small braids, with little other decoration. None was necessary, as Faernen was remarkable regardless. There was a fire within her no one could ignore.

"Faernen!"

A shadow fell across her path, and this time, Faernen did not repeat her mistake. She looked up to the new-come elf who had called her name.

He sat upon a white elf-steed and was crowned by the sun above. His hair was golden, windswept and fell just over his shoulders. There was no doubt that he was a mighty lord, yet there was a kindness present in his gaze that had often swayed Faernen.

She rode for days just to see him, and he would ride amidst battle just to see her.

"Glorfindel." She replied in greeting.

His hand was extended towards her, an offer she could not refuse. Faernen sheathed her sword and clasped his forearm, using that as aid to swing herself onto his horse.

Already, curses in the orcish language rang out, as did the clang of metal on metal and the snarls of wargs. There was a cry for retreat, or so Faernen presumed; understanding the orc's language was not easy.

"The company can deal with the glamhoth," Glorfindel declared to her, "I will take you to safety."

She did not reply, feeling it was unnecessary and inconsequential, considering the threat of death that pressed around them. Instead, Faernen focused upon winding her arms around his waist so that she would not fall. Glorfindel was quick to spur his horse into action, using only a brief command in Elvish to order them away.

Now riding again, Faernen felt more at ease. She glanced around, spotting her own mare, Thinelroch, and calling out, "Aphada, Thinelroch! Follow!"

Trusting that the mare would, Faernen returned her attention to herself. In the distance, the skirmish continued, yet Glorfindel's haste had led them further away that she would have predicted for the short amount of time. His armour was cold against her hands, and she remained so close only because she must, and because their intimacy was one that promised safety. She welcomed that now, after so many years of insisting upon a friendship.

When Faernen happened to lean closer, it was then that Glorfindel slowed their pace.

Though there was silence, or near enough to it, and the wargs had been driven out of elven sight, she felt as alive as she had during the chase. Perhaps Glorfindel was to blame for that, as her heart certainly fluttered when he grabbed her hand around his waist.

"Have I not warned you enough, Faernen?" Glorfindel sighed. "You should not travel alone."

"And have I not ignored you enough?" she mimicked, "I will not listen, for I am not that wise."

"Certainly, it would seem so."

Faernen did not argue this, instead leaning closer to Glorfindel. She should not have, and she knew it, for the proximity that it took for her breath to warm his skin breached the definition of friends. Although it hardly seemed to matter, when Glorfindel's one hand was on the reigns, and the other covering Faernen's which lay upon his waist; arguably, he had always been more open with his feelings.

"To Rivendell." She prompted softly. "I did not ride from Lothlorien for nothing."

While the tension lay still thick in the air, they spoke no more to each other. Glorfindel urged his horse onwards wordlessly, while Faernen turned to Thinelroch and beckoned her closer. The golden mare followed at a short distance, skittish from the encounter with the orcs. The valley of Rivendell could not be far, and both Elves hoped to make it there without further trouble. Presumably, the orc pack had been dealt with by the company of Elves, whom had been led by Glorfindel from Rivendell. Faernen had to wonder how he had known to find her, or if it were simply luck.

In silent company, they left the plains that disguised Rivendell, and entered the woods of one of the last safe havens in Middle-Earth. The leaves were green, the sun shining through just barely. Very soon it would be sunset. She had hoped to be in Rivendell by that morning; and Faernen might have been, if not for the unforseen encounter with orcs.

"I apologise, Faernen." Glorfindel spoke first, only after allowing his horse to slow.

"For what?" she wondered, startled from her thoughts.

"If I seemed angry." He elaborated simply.

She refrained from replying, fearing that she would either cause insult, or admit vulnerability. If ever there was the time for either, it would be rare and only when it suited Faernen.

A path had appeared amidst the trees now, worn through use. They met with the path and began to follow it. The silence seemed bearable now, having needed only those words to distil what doubt had festered during their years of separation.

Though the two may have upheld a friendship for centuries, the correspondence of the written word hardly compared to standing before the other. It had never been said, yet when Faernen journeyed to Rivendell, the thought of him had often quickened her pace.

Grass soon became stone, the ground falling away to water and steep valley walls. Dusk had settled more soundly in the sky, bathing everything in a warm red. If she peered over Glorfindel's shoulder, Faernen could see Rivendell in the distance, just as she could the approaching bridge that led to it. Growing ever more conscious of herself, she pulled her hand out from Glorfindel's.

He seemed to sense this, and made no comment upon her behaviour.

Feeling suddenly unsteady, Faernen decided to ask, "May we stop?"

"Of course." Glorfindel agreed easily. It took but a few moments to guide his horse to a standstill, while Thinelroch approached from the side.

With the litheness and grace of all Elves, Faernen slid from the horse and onto the ground. She, briefly, chose to ignore her companion in favour of Thinelroch, whom she approached with the aim of calming down. Thinelroch nuzzled into Faernen's hand, glad for the comfort.

"Faernen." Glorfindel spoke her name the way he always had; the way many young elf-maidens desired their own to be said.

She spun on her heel, only to find him closer than she had thought. As she nearly reached his nose, it was not quite as challenging as it was for some when Faernen looked him in the eyes.

His hand rose, straying thoughtlessly to the wintery tresses of her hair. There was a peculiar tenderness between them as he brushed aside the stray locks.

"I was worried for you."

His words were a surprise. Faernen had expected some other comment, either upon her sudden visit, her unannounced arrival, or upon her recklessness – calculated risk, as she would call it – for travelling alone. She had thought he would ask why she had come, or perhaps inform her of something she had missed in her absence, or offer news of her brother. He did not.

In response, there seemed to be only one appropriate thing to say. "Thank you."

His hand fell away. "Have we stopped so that you might recover from your pursuit?" Glorfindel wondered.

"No."

"Then what?"

"I journeyed to Rivendell with a task in mind, and I would complete that task as soon as possible." Faernen explained calmly, though she was not.

"You intend to leave me so soon? And your brother, Merendir?" he replied playfully.

Merendir was often the reason that Faernen visited Rivendell. Some centuries ago, they had separated in their lives and taken up a residency that suited the individual, yet not the siblings together. Of late, Faernen had taken to using Merendir as an excuse to leave the woods of Lothlorien. Though it was a pleasure to see him, she had found that her desired company was steadily extending – to Glorfindel.

"Glorfindel, I came to speak to you."

"About what matter?" he inquired.

She found it hard to look him in eye. "I remember the first time we met. I remember the words you spoke."

"They were a promise." He reminded her gently.

"It will never be said that you have broken one, for you have waited so patiently for my reply," Faernen found strength enough to meet his gaze then, however briefly, for the admission, "I cannot give you one, for the weight upon my heart."

Glorfindel's manner changed all at once. There was no mirth lingering about him any longer.

"You understand that I did not confess to you out need or haste. Do not presume that my actions were that of an elfling readily strung along by his heart; I have lived a long time, Faernen, and I knew love would follow the moment I met you." As he spoke, it seemed to Faernen that his passion breathed life into his eyes and kindness into his hands.

She watched him carefully as he spoke, looking for a lie and finding none. It did not matter, as he had mistaken her regardless.

"I did not mean that," she announced, "when my only enemy has been myself. The time it has taken to admit this only shows how foolish I am; I love you, Glorfindel."

"And can you not see that I love you?" he replied softly.

In all their years, she had never once reached for him. She was not a creature to bend, particularly when determined to remain rigid; she was a warrior. But that was no reason for her to ignore her heart.

"Yes," she sighed, her hands clasping his, "And I am thankful for it. However, there still lies the guilt in my heart, for making you wait, and for being overwhelmed by fear."

"Fear of what?" Glorfindel pressed.

"Of you. Of your rejection, and of my own love. How I made you wait, visiting to ensure your feelings had not changed, yet I could not even decide upon my own. I was afraid of the choice, and of making the wrong one. I will live with no regrets burdening me."

"Then let there be none," Glorfindel announced, "If it is your will, I would devote myself to your happiness."

Her fingers were still caught in his. As he raised them to his lips, kissing them softly, Faernen felt the blush of a smile creep onto her cheeks.

"There is no need, Glorfindel, when you already do." She assured seriously.

Soft peals of laughter rang throughout the clearing. Faernen remained still as Glorfindel's mirth grew. He let her hands fall to her side, only to move so that his fingers framed her skin and nestled in her pale hair.

This time, he kissed her forehead.

"It is not so complicated as you would see it. I love you and you love me," he inclined his head ever so slightly, before asking, "May I?"

Faernen did not reply, finding it needless when she understood his meaning so clearly. There had always been the willingness to oblige him – and kiss him.

His hand crafted her back like water. She melted so easily into him, and was not alone in giddiness. Glorfindel felt the pale echo of his youth, heavily accompanied by his years of knowledge. There was restraint as he kissed her back, as he could only promise more until the time they were given more privacy.

"There is no need for loneliness, meleth." murmured the elven lord.

"No," agreed Faernen, "The path ahead may be walked together."

He smiled fondly down at her, leaving Faernen blushing once again. She had never felt so emotional as she did now, and though it was strange to her, she trusted Glorfindel enough not to mock her.

"Come, your brother waits for our return to Rivendell still."

Faernen nodded. "That, he does."

The two turned from each other, only briefly, before Glorfindel offered his arm. Faernen was amazed at the ease of his demeanour, what was really a charade of nonchalance.

Before them, the sun was setting of the valley of Imladris. The winding river ways seemed to shine gold, as did the autumn leaves surrounding the valley. It was the Last Homely House, and seemed only to grow more splendid and beautiful despite it's time waning.

Glorfindel's eyes were not for this sight, however, but for Faernen.

Her happiness brought him joy and hope like no other.

"Together." She echoed, clasping his hand.

It was not a promise. Not in the way her smile was.

Translations:

Noro - run

Elleth - female elf

Tolo - come

Glamhoth - (barbaric) host of orcs

Aphada - follow

Meleth - love (n.)

Hope this helps with the reading. There are just so many characters within this franchise I would love to know more about, which is why I wrote this.

Please feel free to review with your thoughts, what you liked/didn't like and, as always, thanks for reading.