The sky was burning.
He was falling, flame licking at his skin. He could see the mountainside fly past him, the ground so far away yet coming closer. A dark weight was behind him, heavy, pushing toward him toward the hard rocks far below. He could hear screams.
Screams from the ones he had sworn to protect as they saw him fall.
But he had protected them, sacrificing his own life to do so. And around him, the air blistered and ate at his skin, time stretching out into an eternity as the ground drew ever closer.
He could see every detail. His body rolled and he could now see the mass that pushed him off the mountain, its features terrifying even as it lost its life. The small clumps of snow nestling on rocks jutting from the cliff, a tiny sapling struggling for life, leaning precariously as gravity tried to take it.
Smoke boiled around him, choking him and squeezing his lungs, but he had not the breath to cough. Instead his he let his eyes rove one last time over the monstrosity he was falling with, its red eyes glaring at him. It knew it was going to die, and it knew he was going to also. He could hear the cry of an eagle far off, but it would be too late. There was no way it could save him in time, and he would not let it in any case. The feathers would be burnt off of it, and he did not have the heart to let another being die because of him.
And yet he knew that he had failed, for the ones he had saved were still being faced by a deadly fire drake. His only hope was that someone could defeat it.
As the sounds blurred around him, the crackling of the flames and the roaring of his dying enemy, he let his arms drift outwards. The monster above him had opened its mouth and fire was flickering around its nostrils as it growled in defiance of its death, but he could not hear it. The shimmering air from the heat of the flames burned his eyes angrily.
He turned one last time and the ground flew toward him, the rocks becoming ever clearer as they neared. He almost cursed his eyesight as could see the individual blades of grass poking up between the small places they could thrive. Before he hit, he let his eyes close.
Pain consumed him.
Then darkness.
Glorfindel awoke gasping for breath, his heart thudding dangerously in his chest. He realized he was sitting up, his sheets tangled around his waist. Brief memories of the fall danced through his mind, but he shoved them away. He let his right hand fall from where it had been clutching his heart, sweat pouring down his brow.
In the corner of the room, a lamp flickered. His eyes caught on the single flame, daring it to become a nightmare . . . but it stayed as it was, waving back and forth tauntingly. The Elflord blinked a few times, then realized tears were streaking his face. He wiped them away angrily.
"Valar curse it!" snapped Glorfindel, shoving his bedsheets away and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He rested the back of one hand against his forehead, then swiped off the sweat that resided there. His other hands was clenched, and he let it fall open, staring unseeingly at his palm. Elves did not have nightmares, no . . . but if they were memories -
He let his shoulders slump, the anger dissipating. Closing his eyes briefly, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep again this night. He stood to his feet and went to his wardrobe, pulling out leggings and an undertunic. Pausing by the door to grab the sword that leaned on the wall, Glorfindel left his chambers and headed for training fields.
Two hours later, he was heaving for breath once more, but this time for a different reason. The sun was peeking over the horizon as Glorfindel sank the blade of his sword into the ground and dropped to his knees next to it. The memories were gone, shoved far into the back of his mind for a time, pushed out of the way by the strenuous exercise he had just gone through. But they would likely return that night . . . he preferred not to think of that. Letting himself rest for a few minutes to catch his wind and calm his racing heart, he rested his hands on the hilt of the sword and dropped his head on his hands.
Moments later, he heard two pair of feet tapping the ground as their owners hurtled toward him. A dark-haired elfling skidded to a stop next to him and wrapped his arms around one of Glorfindel's legs, burying his head in the leggings. An exact duplicate of the one hugging Glorfindel, the other stood in front of him, still shorter than the Elflord even though he was kneeling. His face was abnormally serious.
"Glorfy, Ada said to come find you."
"Is that so?" Glorfindel muttered, finally looking up. The one standing had to be Elladan, since he had gotten in a fight with his brother the other day and a bruise still decorated his cheek from a blow to his face.
"Yes, he said you need to - needed to be cheered up." The elfling looked proud of himself for saying the big word.
"I'm cheering you up," came the muffled announcement from Elrohir, then lifted his head from Glorfindel's leg.
A tiny smile graced the Balrog-slayer's face. He ruffled the younger twin's dark hair, releasing his grip from the sword. "That you are, penneth."
Elladan lunged forward, barely missing slicing his arm open on the side of the sword inches from him, and wrapped his tiny arms around Glorfindel's torso. He tilted his head back and stared up at the warrior, his grey eyes sparkling. "Are you going to eat breakfast?"
Of course that would be the on the elfling's mind. "I will, but I should probably get dressed first." If he showed up at the dining table with only an undertunic and leggings, Lord Elrond's wife would have a fit, and he would never dare to incur CelebrÃan's wrath.
"We will help you!" volunteered Elrohir, beaming.
"Um . . . I think I can manage." Detaching the twins from him, Glorfindel stood to his feet and pulled the sword out of the ground. There was a rack a few yards away that was usually used for holding spears, but he didn't care, setting the weapon against it. He had done it just in time, as he turned around to see identical faces staring up at him, grey eyes pleading. Their arms were held out. With a mock reluctant sigh, Glorfindel scooped them up and rested one against each hip, an arm wrapped around each one to keep them from falling.
"Do you like mush?" Elladan chattered as they started for the main building, where Glorfindel could make out Elrond waiting for them on the balustrade. "I hope you do, 'cause Nana said that's what we're eating for breakfast."
"She said it was 'meal of oats,' but we know better," added Elrohir, wrapping his arms around Glorfindel's neck. "It's really nasty."
"I'm sure that's not all you will eat for breakfast," Glorfindel told them. "There will be fruit, and eggs, and probably some soft bread."
"Yeah, but we have to eat the mush before we can have anything else."
"Yuck!" interjected the other. He smiled convincingly at the Balrog-slayer. "Could you sneak us some grapes or apples?"
Glorfindel couldn't hold back a chuckle. "You want me to go behind your Nana's and Ada's backs to give you food?"
A brief silence. "Yes?"
"Maybe," was all Glorfindel would say, and let the twins down as they caught sight of their father. They both shrieked as Elrond managed to catch them both up and swing them around. Glorfindel had no idea how he did that without dropping one - it must have something to do with being a father.
"We cheered Glorfindel up!" announced one of the twins, beaming.
"I can see that." Elrond caught his friend's eyes and smiled, setting his sons back down. "Why don't you go find your Nana?"
"Okay!" They dashed off, radiating energy.
Glorfindel finally made it to Elrond's side and he returned the grin. "You always know when the nightmares come. How?"
Elrond simply smiled. "Experience, my dear friend."
Glorfindel nodded, accepting that. After a moment of silence, "So what's this I hear about mush for breakfast?"
Another one-shot! These are just coming off the top of my head while I work on the next chapter to Not Again! Please review, I'd love to know what you think!