Disclaimer: unfortunately glorfindel is not mine. gandalf isn't either.
It had been a fine day in Imladris. The orchards were in full bloom, the aroma of succulent apples and juice peaches wafted through the valley on a light breeze. And to every little elflings delight there wasn't a cloud in the sky. To their parents this meant an entire day's worth of mischief to contend with. But now at long last the daylight began to give way to moonlight. All of the inhabitants of the valley slowly drifted towards the land of elven dreams. All except a certain blond haired balrog slayer. Glorfindel drifted along like a phantom not really knowing where he was or what he was doing. But as he turned into the Hall of Fire he found himself humming a very peculiar tune very loudly to no one in particular. Glorfindel had just returned from visiting Mithrandir who had insisted that he help him empty an entire bottle of firewiskey when he caught sight of himself in a nearby mirror. There he was in all his glory but with a strange pink frilly bow perched rather lopsided atop his golden head. Coming to his senses he snatched it off and ground it into the dusty stone floor with the toe of his boot.
The next day Glorfindel walked onto the lower training grounds expecting to hear the sweet sound of clashing swords. Instead his soldiers stood huddled in groups, sniggering amongst themselves. When they saw their captain, however, they quickly parted and the sound of clinging metal filled the air. Through out the session Glorfindel was quit dismayed that many of his soldiers kept shooting him unusual looks and more than a few burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter that left them gasping for air whenever he walked by.
"Alright that is all for today's session. I will see all of you bright and early tomorrow." Announced Glorfindel. "Not unless we see you first." Muttered a dark haired elf near the front of the line. "What?" Asked Glorfindel. Finally, the moment of truth was upon him. "You know," began another elf, "I think pink really is your color, although the frilly dress was a bit much. I must say Mithrandir has quite a sense of humor." Cold terrible realization dawned on Glorfindel as everything even the dress and being paraded around for all to see came rushing back like a tidal wave. He stood there with his sword limp at his side, his face a lovely shade of scarlet, as his dignity fell away in shreds. His soldiers watched in fearful trepidation for the reaction of their captain. Gathering up his remaining shards of dignity he said the first thing that came to his mind. "Actually Morwen I believe blue is more my color. Its brings out my eyes." And with that he stalked away up the hill. Howls of laughter followed him as he turned into the southern wing and disappeared into the cold darkness of his quarters, face still burning.