In Imladris He Dwells
Chapter One
He awoke. That in itself was somewhat new. He could not describe it and hope to do it justice, what he had felt. The floating sensation, the emptiness, the loss of anything to ground him to the earth. When it had started he could not remember, only that now it was over and he felt something encasing him. For the first time his dreams became solid, clearer and there was a darkness he recognised. It lifted as he made something move, his eyes opened. His body, he remembered now, reacted slowly as he stirred, moving around clumsily.
"Be gentle in thy movements," a voice told him. Beautiful it was, the first sound he heard. He saw his body, lying beneath the blanket, saw his arms and hands move to push his torso up. Golden hair spilled around his face, tickling his cheeks and obstructing his vision. For a moment he marvelled at the feeling of his limbs, his face and his whole body, staring at it in wonder before turning his attention to the world around him. Solid, when all he had experienced for so long was hazy and insubstantial, a bed that was soft and firm beneath him, grey walls of stone covered in tapestries that bore every colour he could name. By the door, sat a figure.
"Dost thou know thy name?" she asked him, letting him hear something beside the sound of his own breathing. For a moment he listened only to his lungs, then realised that she made no sound except for speaking. He thought it over, searching back, when the world had been solid also.
"Glorfindel," he said, trying out his voice that he remembered hearing dimly. It sounded different now, deeper and with a tone that he could not quite name.
"What else dost thou remember?" He closed his eyes and pushed back the mist. Images he remembered, faces flashed behind his eyes. Then falling through heat and flame, turning back one last time to look before darkness and searing fire. He sucked in his breath, unable to control his hands as they shook.
"The fire," he answered. Her face, he deemed it beautiful, darkened in an expression he had seen before: sorrow. He watched her and did not recognise her from what he remembered. She was too perfect in her beauty, carved by a master and radiating a brilliance that although hidden shone through her being.
"I am Vairë. Stand, if thou canst." The name meant something to him and he looked at her in awe. "Stand, Glorfindel." Slowly, his limbs uncooperative, he pushed himself out of bed and made to stand. Someone had clothed him and the light tunic scratched at his skin, more sensitive than he thought it should be. He stood, without any grace and the world span around him. The Valier Queen stood beside him, her hand outstretched. "Come with me. Look not to either side on our path, only ahead. If thou doth let thy eyes wander, thou shalt see things that thou canst not have and thou shalt be lost. Come." Glorfindel took the hand, a gentle warmth passing through him unlike the heat he remembered.
Walking was slow, he could not remember how to do such a simple thing. Vairë guided him onward and step by step it returned to him. Through the halls she led him and always he looked ahead at the corridor down which they walked. Either side was covered in tapestries but he did not examine them. When they came to an intersection Vairë stopped, only for a moment and he heard voices, music and singing. He wanted to turn, to see from whence it came for it seemed he knew the words, from long ago and he remembered singing the same tune as he walked through the cold and the snow. With great difficulty he took another step and they were past the other corridor, coming to a set of great wooden doors carved with shapes he did not recognise.
The doors opened before them, letting not only the first sunlight he had seen but also a sense of presence where before had not felt one. Vairë appeared beside him in all her glory and power, a thousand times greater than she had been as they walked along. His mind knew who was before him in the chamber, seated in a circle. His stiff back bowed low before the Valar and he did not dare look up at them.
"Námo, let us hear thy judgement upon him now." Glorfindel knew the voice, though he had not heard it before. Manwë had not spoken to the Noldor, only through a herald. The majesty and might of the King of Arda could not be mistaken.
"He is pure of heart and soul, of the exile he wanted no part and of the sins he has had no hand." Not since the Doom was foretold had Glorfindel heard the voice of Námo, Mandos the Lord of the Dead and he did not understand what was happening around him. On no accounts had he heard that the deceased, for he knew then that the fire had claimed his life, were judged by all the Valar together in such a way. "Should another be chosen, I shall release him now for those reasons alone."
"He was bold in life," declared Tulkas. "And in death. I say he fits our purpose well. Let him go forth." There was a silence then and Glorfindel felt fear mix with his awe and confusion. It had been but a moment ago he was dreaming of colours and mists that he could not perceive in reality.
"Rise, Glorfindel of Gondolin," said Manwë. Keeping his eyes downcast out of reverence, he straightened up. "Yes, thou shalt go forth to perform this task. What say thou to this?" Carefully, Glorfindel chose his words to ask the questions he did not dare speak directly to the lords of Arda.
"I know not this purpose of which you speak," he answered. "Yet readily I shall do your biding, whatever it may be if you deem me worthy." It seemed to him that they laughed at that, a sort of joyful doting laugh and he looked down in shame at having spoken out.
"Be not ashamed at thy weakness. We shall give thee strength," said Manwë. The form that Glorfindel saw was Mandos came forward, Vairë at his side.
"Thy body we do return thee to, in strength far greater than thou hast before."
"Prowess in arms," Tulkas added. "That shall be my gift to thee. To help thee in this task. Few shall match thee lest they learn from thy own hands. In the wide lands we return thee to, though it grieves us, thou wilt make use of this." Then forth came Tulkas, tall and strong and he held out a sword to Glorfindel. He stared at it and for a moment did not dare take it. His questions were unanswered, what task it was the great of the world had set before him he did not know. His hand however reached out for the blade, marvelling at it. Gold lined the hilt and a reddish gold was the metal when he drew it from its scabbard. It was not his old sword that had fallen with him in Gondolin, it was longer and more perfectly balanced in ways he had never noticed his own sword lacked. It bore the mark of Aulë that he had not seen since his childhood in Tirion.
"Proud art thou, of thy House that thou hast led," said Yavanna. "Not the pride of Fëanor or his sons, but one we share in that which we have made. Take this seed, that thy house may grow and be remembered." In his hand she placed a single flower seed. "With fountain water it shall grow."
"Haste, my friends," called Manwë from his seat. "The hour grows late in Middle Earth and we cannot tarry." Irmo, Lórien they named him and three Valier: Nienna, Vána and Estë each smiled at Glorfindel in turn.
"The desires thou had in life are returned to thee, that they may help and guide thee forwards in the shadows," Irmo told him. "Mercy, gentleness and the joy of the young thou shalt have too."
"The stars shall guide thee, there is a ship to take thee hence and there thou shalt find my gift," said Oromë. "For thou shalt not walk Middle Earth alone."
"Thy task then." Manwë stood, coming closer to the elf who bowed again, his sword belted at his waist and the seed clasped in his hand. "Thou shalt prepare the way. For what I do not know for that is hidden even from me. One must be sent to join he who is already there and will aid thee in this task." Who? Glorfindel wondered. "I have no name to give thee, but in Imladris he dwells. Go now hence, and may all our blessings go with thee on this road for it is perilous and thou shalt face grief the likes of which thou canst not know yet." Again Vairë stepped forward and too his hand to lead him away.
"Wait!" came one last voice as the doors began to close behind them. Nessa, the least of the Valar but to Glorfindel's eyes just as fair and powerful as he had been blinded by majesty all at once, ran out to join them. "This gift is not for thee, though it shall bring thee joy in the darkness. It is a gift thou shalt pass on." She smiled and left with no other words, passing into the expanse of the halls around them. The presence Glorfindel had felt was gone, left only with the shade of Vairë who stood beside him.
"Come," she said again.
"My lady, may I look?" Glorfindel dared ask at last. He wanted to see a familiar face, for he remembered those he knew were gone before him. Ecthelion in the fountain, Turgon in the tower and somewhere, his brother and sister in the fires that had claimed their city.
"No friend shalt thou see. Look, if thou must." He did as she led him down the hallways but no music did he hear this time and he knew it had been a test she set him. He smiled to himself, realising he had passed. The hallway ended abruptly at a small plain door. "Go, the stars shall watch over thee."
Glorfindel opened the door onto a quay, empty and silent in the breeze. One ship rocked on the shallow waves, knocking against the dock. He climbed aboard to find no other soul there, no captain or shipmate. Below he heard a noise and found the stairs.
"Suilaid," he said to the horse that stood in the stall. "Greetings and well met, my friend." The beast nuzzled at his hand eagerly as he stroked its head. "Asfaloth, how do you suppose we sail this ship, you and I?"