Many Meetings
Chapter 1
My very first story here, so please be gentle with your reviews. Constructive criticism and corrections are always appreciated!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Silmarillion or any of its characters. If I did, I would be playing with Elrond and Elros, not writing wacky fanfictions.
Ecthelion was practically smirking as his soul flew to the halls of Mandos. Oh, he was sorry for Glorfindel, but it was just too funny. They were going to cause a few thousand interesting years in the Halls, indeed.
After the few seconds it took to soar over the Sundering Sea, Ecthelion's spirit landed with a bump at the threshold of Mandos. Immediately a tall Maia in a black tunic appeared in front of him and quietly offered to escort him to the Lord Namo. The dark Doomsman of the Valar explained the code of conduct in his halls and quickly waved him off as another dozen spirits appeared with their Maia escorts. Ecthelion was left alone.
After a few minutes of searching, he found Glorfindel trying to look inconspicuous as he read a history of Mandos. Sadly, because of his long, shining, golden hair, Glorfindel was always rather conspicuous, especially in the dim gloom of Mandos. As he heard Ecthelion approaching, he whipped his head up and shot him a threatening glare. "Do not say it!" he growled.
Ecthelion looked as innocent as a newborn elf. "I never said a word," he replied primly. "I merely came to enquire after your welfare after Gondolin. You fought an awe-inspiring battle with that Balrog."
Glorfindel looked both relieved and apprehensive. "So you saw that?" he asked a little nervously. He fiddled with the corner of his book, and Ecthelion could see he was hoping the answer would be negative.
Ecthelion decided to disappoint him, so he nodded casually. "Oh yes, I saw the whole thing before I was distracted by Gothmog. Is your head still sore from that fall?"
Glaring, Glorfindel retreated into icy politeness. "My head is quite fine, thank you for asking." He looked nearly ready to burrow into his book again and hide behind its sheltering cover. Ecthelion refused to give him that opportunity. Relieving Glorfindel of the book, he continued the conversation.
"You know, I was thinking that your hair would look especially good tied back in the new style of warrior braids that appeared in the last few dozen years. I wondered if you might like to try it," Ecthelion continued smoothly. Not quite satisfied with the death glare he was being presented by Glorfindel, he smacked himself and went on, "Oh, I beg your pardon; I already suggested it to you. Right before the battle, I believe?"
Suddenly Glorfindel dropped the glare and smiled warmly at Ecthelion. "Yes, you did, as a matter of fact. Just before Gothmog drowned you in your own fountain, was it not?" he said with a casual air that rivalled Ecthelion's. Or rather, it rivalled that which Ecthelion had possessed moments ago, since that elf was at the moment slack-jawed with astonishment.
"You saw that?" he asked, horrified.
Glorfindel was enjoying himself very obviously, but his tone was still light. "Oh yes, I was not quite dead when Thorondor picked me up. I saw the whole thing. Maeglin especially enjoyed hearing that about that."
If Ecthelion's horror of a moment before was a black pit, his current state was a bottomless abyss that surpassed Ungoliant's webs, Morgoth's deepest dungeons, and the void beyond the Walls of the World. He launched himself furiously at Glorfindel, tackling him off the bench where they sat and throwing him hard onto the floor. Glorfindel's amusement quickly changed to alarm.
"What in the sweet name of Eru Iluvatar – Ecthelion, calm yourself! I was joking, I was joking; I never told anyone else!" he shouted, panicking, as his friend attacked him.
Ecthelion sat up abruptly. "You did not?"
Glorfindel shook his head, picking himself up tenderly off the stone floors of the Halls. "No, even I am a better friend than that. Of course I did not."
Ecthelion sat down, a little shame-faced, on the bench. "Oh…I beg your pardon for attacking you, then," he murmured.
Grinning, Glorfindel shoved him gently. "I should not have teased you so. Come along; let us see if we can get our deaths excised from Vaire's tapestries. I had heard from other reborn warriors that she is often quite kind about that."
Talking quietly about this, that, and the other, the two friends made their way down one of the many dim passageways of Mandos's halls.