She had not hunted well that night.
Kills-without-rest's eyes were glazed with hunger, and her stomach felt shrunken, though when she looked down at herself she appeared as round-bellied as ever.
Curse the Bright Ones! she thought, not knowing any other name or identity for the Valar her elven ancestors had loved. She twisted her yellow teeth in a snarl. The day's cursed, burning Yellow Eye was about to rise, and there was no time for more hunting.
Shielding herself carefully from the half-lidded Sneaking Eye that she had once heard a filthy man-thing call 'the Moon,' Kills-without-rest crept into the cave she shared with the several other Orcs she had not been able to kill or drive away.
She selected a dirty corner where she could sleep well-guarded with her back pressed against the bumpy stone. Soon she fell asleep in spite of her hunger, and she did not know that it was Irmo the Vala who brought her the deer that she devoured, raw and bloody, in her dreams.
Glorfindel dreamed of the Sea that night.
He knew that he walked in a dream, for his spirit was very well aware that his body remained in Imladris, in the house that had been Elrond's. Indeed, Glorfindel still thought of it as belonging to that lord.
Elrond himself had departed for the Sea just twenty years ago, a bare handful of leaves on the tree of years. He had taken ship from the Grey Havens, and that was the same place where Glorfindel wandered in dreams now.
The voice of the Sea sang all around, the music of Ulmo and his liegeman Ossë of the shores. It was beautiful, but it had never called to Glorfindel the way he knew it did to many of his kinsmen.
I wonder why, Glorfindel mused, walking along the sandy shore. He picked up a shell, one of the mighty pink-and-pearl conchs that were made after the same fashion as Ulmo's own horns the Ulumúri, and listened to it. The same music echoed faintly within, but it called to him no more than did the Sea's own.
Perhaps it is because this world calls to me louder, Glorfindel thought. He turned away from the Sea, first respectfully replacing the conch where he had found it even though he still knew this was only a dream. For whatever reason, Glorfindel felt a deep love and connection for the lands of Middle-earth. Wonderful as he knew the Land Beyond the Sea to be, he did not care if it was many more ages before he set foot on its blessed shores.
Maybe it was some destiny yet unfulfilled that bound Glorfindel and his heart to these lands. He smiled, walking away from the Sea to wander instead under the red leaves of the autumn forest ahead of him.