Glorfindel stared towards the long-awaited shores of Valinor. The sky above was blue, the sea beneath the boat was blue, almost as blue as his eyes, the sunlight almost as golden as his hair, but Glorfindel had no thought for himself. All his attention was trained on the shore, the little welcoming crowd gathered there.

With him on the boat an assortment of friends and strangers; Elrond and Galadriel, Gandalf and the two hobbits from The Shire who had saved them all...

He had known Bilbo, of course, for some time; they had respected each other, the hobbit knowing better than to ask for the tale of the Balrog first-hand, Glorfindel gladly answering any other questions he might have had in recompense for his gentle restraint.

Now, as he stood at the bows of the ship, Glorfindel found he was not alone; the old hobbit was beside him.

'Well, there's nothing like a sea voyage for the constitution after all!' he said. 'Do you know, I feel years younger!'

'I am glad to hear it, Master Bilbo. Here in Valinor I am sure you will find Elvish poetry and song enough even for your appetite.'

'Thank you, my dear fellow. But, I must ask, don't you know... just why did you sail with us? I rather thought you might stay and keep an eye on the twins...'

'It was time, I thought it was time...'

But had it been the right choice after all?

He had tried not to admit it, even to himself, but Glorfindel had spent most of the voyage looking back when everyone else was looking forward... yes, his forever-love was waiting for him in Valinor... but Glorfindel had left someone behind.

Triwathon.

Even though they had agreed what they had could never be any more than a brief affair, could not exist outside beyond the bounds of Middle Earth, although they had parted as friends Glorfindel had found himself, more and more, wondering if that had been the right decision. Oh, Triwathon was young, had a glowing and glittering future ahead of him... and a loyal friend to love him, if only Triwathon would let him... but Glorfindel had never been able to shake the sense of unfinished business between them.

So when Elrond had announced his intention to sail, even though it had only been a couple of years since Glorfindel and Triwathon had said their goodbyes, the seneschal of Imladris had packed up his things without a fuss and had added his name to the list. It would be easier to leave Triwathon behind as he moved towards the future with Ecthelion.

Or so he'd thought...

The boat docked, voices calling, a hustle and a bustle brought Glorfindel back to the now, the present place and time.

And he wished he wasn't there.

He was one of the last off the boat, hanging back almost to the last until he no longer could delay, and even then he lingered at the foot of the gangplank. Over on the shore, a party was already underway, Elrond at the centre of it, not entirely happily as the reunion with his formerly-ill wife appeared to be rapidly disintegrating into shrill recriminations...

'Glorfindel, darling!'

The voice was lazy, languid, elegant and clear and once, Glorfindel would have given anything to hear it caress his name again in such a fashion... with a sigh, he lifted and hand and looked towards the shore where Ecthelion, dark haired and beautiful in indigo silk, was waiting with a smile.

He was not alone.

At his side, a blond Galadhrim stood with his arm apparently around Ecthelion's waist, haughty and pouting as the dark haired Lord of the Fountains of Gondolin made his way to the jetty, pulling him along.

'Ah, Glorfindel, my beloved, I thought you would never sail!' Ecthelion said in a drawl, lifting a strand of white blond hair from the head of the elf at his side. 'Do you know Rúmil, my dear? Isn't he gorgeous?'

Glorfindel faltered to a halt, the smile on his face, already forced, fading.

'Ecthelion?' he asked.

'Yes, dearest... Rúmil and I became friends when he arrived somewhat precipitously in the Halls of our old friend Mandos... took him under my wing and, well, my love, I thought...'

'I thought you... we... I...'

'Yes, I know, I told you if you needed someone, our vows weren't binding on the other side of the seas. Well, I was on the other side of the seas too, you know. I was lonely, I was pining, too. And so Rúmil and I... I thought I would have to give him up when you arrived, but then I thought, he is so lovely... imagine your hair and his mingling, how gorgeous it would look...'

'You'd better imagine it for yourself, Ecthelion, because I don't think you're ever likely to see it happen! I don't know what you're thinking, but...'

'Do you not? I was thinking, you, and me, and lovely Rúmil here... a modern arrangement, why not?'

'Why not? Because you and I are fëa-mates, that's why not! We took vows, that's why not...!'

Because Glorfindel had turned his back on the bravest, kindest, best ellon in all of Middle Earth to come here before he had been ready to give him up, that was why not...

'Oh, vows...! Well, I got to thinking, perhaps we weren't really meant to be forever after all... and so I had us released...'

'You... what...?'

Ecthelion shrugged.

'So we could take them again in the spirit of renewal, and with Rúmil, too; the place is positively heaving with Valar, all happy to clarify Eru's plans for us and they were only too happy to release us from our vows, made in the days when the world, and we, were young. Are you coming home, darling, or what?'

'Yes,' Glorfindel said. 'Yes, if this boat works both ways, I'm going home. Right now.'

And with that he turned on his heel and stalked back onto the ship.

Cirdan looked up from where he'd been checking the lines.

'Glorfindel?'

'Cirdan, how long before we can set off back for Middle Earth?'

'We cannot possibly...'

'This ship goes east as well as west, yes? That's how the ocean works, we can sail back, I've done it before... I have to, Cirdan, I've made a dreadful mistake... no, two dreadful mistakes...'

'If you will bear with me, my lord, I was going to say we cannot possibly go before we are provisioned... and there are other passengers for the return trip who will be joining us. But it will not be quite yet; we have to lay over for three weeks...

'Three weeks! Cirdan, I need to go now!'

'You are welcome to try to swim, my old friend, but we will pass you on the way. You see, sailing back is not as easy as sailing here; we must have sails made by Vairë and her maidens if we are to sail into the sunrise instead of the sunset and they are not yet made. So, you are welcome to your old berth, my lord, if you want it. Or you could go ashore, if you wished...'

Glorfindel looked out to where Ecthelion was now walking away from the ship, his arm around the light-haired Galadhrim.

'Is there anything I can help with around the ship?' he asked.

Cirdan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

'Just stow your gear and keep out of the way,' he said. 'Otherwise, Elrond might come looking for you.'

But it was Gandalf came looking for him, three weeks later as night fell and the stars sprang out like gemstones in the obsidian sky.

'Glorfindel of Gondolin, what are you doing lurking in your cabin still? It's a glorious night and you should not be moping!'

'I'm not moping,' Glorfindel said, looking up from the remnants of a once-blue towel he'd been stroking between his long, strong fingers. 'I'm pining; it's different.'

Taking that for an invitation, the wizard pushed open the door and ducked into the cabin.

'It's true, what Cirdan tells me, your heart is set on going back?'

Glorfindel nodded.

'Unfinished business,' he said. 'Don't try to persuade me to stay.'

'Wouldn't dream of it, my dear fellow; in fact, I would come with you if I could. Three weeks of being a party to marital strife between Elrond and Celebrian is quite enough for me, I assure you! But my time in Middle Earth is over. Yours, it would seem, is not... come up on deck. You will want to meet your fellow passengers.'

'Are you sure about that?'

Gandalf chortled disconcertingly and led the way back up to the deck in time to see a group of about a dozen mounted riders and a pack of hounds flowing up the gangplank. The lead rider dismounted, the movement making him glint and shine as he walked towards the Balrog-slayer and the wizard.

'My lord Laurefindil, we are to be shipmates, it seems. Master Olórin, you and I, we are not...'

'Ah, if only, my lord Oromë, if only...'

'We thank you for the honour of your escort,' Oromë said. 'And we hope you enjoy your time in Valinor; we will look for you, on our return, and so farewell, Olórin...'

Gandalf nodded, bristling quietly, and stepped up to pat Glorfindel on the shoulder.

'Good luck, my dear fellow,' he said. 'Don't be too upset about Ecthelion, will you? I'm sure he never meant to hurt your feelings...'

'And friend Olórin, good night to you,' Oromë said. 'I will see our Laurefindil comes to no harm.'

Glorfindel waited for Gandalf to grumble his way off the ship and out of earshot before turning to the Lord of the Hunt.

'Promise?'

'Indeed, I promise, Laurefindil. Now, come with me and we will share a drink together, one that will see you sleep so sound we will be halfway across the seas before you wake...'

'As good as that sounds, my lord, I doubt I will be good and proper company tonight...'

'Nonsense. Besides, we need to discuss strategy...'

'My lord?'

Oromë slung his arm companionably around Glorfindel's shoulder and led him off towards the best cabin on the ship.

'Yes; the evil of the Ring is gone from Middle Earth, but its poison lives on, here and there. I am bringing my host to make a sweep of the northern forests where I understand they may have need of such minor help as we might give...'

'The...? Eryn Lasgalen? Triwathon, my friend Triwathon...?'

'Ah. Now you are interested... well, that is where you're headed, isn't it? And it will be so much swifter for you to ride with my host than to bumble along on your own from the Havens; you'd be hard pressed to get there for the New Year by yourself whereas if you stay with me, we will be there before Yule...'

The tide ebbed, the tide flowed. As it reached towards its highest point, two figures arrived to stand amongst the sand dunes and watch as the ship made its final preparations, as the voices of the crew called out softly into the dregs of the night. The taller figure had long and flowing hair, darker than the night; the other was hooded over pale blond braids.

A sigh from the dark haired ellon; the other stroked his arm in a gesture of comfort, perhaps of friendship.

'He will be gone in an hour, Rúmil. Thank you for this; it was true friendship to allow me to speak so in front of him...'

'You are welcome, Ecthelion. It is small enough service...'

'Ai, you say that now, but if Glorfindel had agreed...' Ecthelion sighed. 'Not that he would have done; it was kindest, though, to set him free, even if it stings for a little while. And I have you, now... I wonder how many there are who thought they had found their forever loves only to discover they weren't quite right...?'

'At least you were in a position to do something about it for both of you.'

'No... for all of us. That is the thing, when one is friends with Námo, he does like to gossip... poor Glorfindel, in love with a Silvan!'

Rúmil lifted his head to stare down his nose at Ecthelion.

'Because neither you nor he could ever hope to keep up with a wood-elf, could you?'

'Perhaps not, my dear, but speaking for myself, I'm having tremendous fun trying... Ah, there we go; the lines have been cast off! Farewell, Glorfindel, my erstwhile love and my forever friend! Make sure you enjoy your Silvan, or I will be properly cross...'

Secure in Oromë's cabin, a glass of something potent in his hand, unaware that Ecthelion was watching him go with a tear in his eye, Glorfindel felt the motion of the ship as it began its journey back to Middle Earth and lifted his head.

'We're off, I think! How long, my lord, to Lindon?'

'Perhaps fourteen or sixteen days.'

'As little as that? It was more than a score of days west...'

'Of course; the journey home is always swifter... and then we will ride like the wind for Eryn Lasgalen; I do hope you packed your sword.'