A/N: This is dedicated to my friend Rhys for being a wonderful writer, friend, source of encouragement, and providing the idea for this story, which is a companion piece to my other one-shot "Fated Meetings". You should read it first.
Glorfindel walked into his apartment and pulled off his jacket, hanging it on the hook behind the door. With a sigh, he dropped onto his sofa and picked up his remote control. Just as he was about to hit the "power" button, he saw a light blinking on the answering machine. He got to his feet and touched the play button.
The first message began to play. A young woman's voice said, "Mr. Laurence Fendell, this is Dr. Martin's receptionist. I'm calling to inform you that your appointment with Dr. Martin is set for 9:30 am next Tuesday."
"I was wondering when they'd call me back," Glorfindel muttered. He was supposed to interview that doctor, and his boss had been hassling him about it.
The second started. This time it was a man, and Glorfindel vaguely recognized his voice. "Sulaid, Balrog-Slayer. This is Maglor. I know we haven't been in touch lately. We met on the beach four months ago? I was wondering if perhaps you'd like to meet me at a coffee shop that I frequent. We could…get to know each other, if you'd like. Call me back if you accept." He continued on with his phone number.
Glorfindel stared at the answering machine in shock. The tape had shut off, but he was still hearing the voice. He hadn't forgotten the meeting with Maglor, or how they'd parted ways afterward. He still dreamt of the songs Maglor had played that evening, for it had been so long since he'd heard the music of his people, and he loved it with every bit of his soul. It was so different from the rock and alternative that everyone listened to now.
Almost hesitant, he lifted the phone from the receiver and dialed in Maglor's number. On the third ring, a quiet voice answered. "Hello?"
"Suliad, Maglor. This is Glorfindel. I wanted to take you up on your offer."
Maglor walked into the café, a scarf wrapped around his neck and heavy gloves on his hands. He'd left his harp at home, knowing that it would attract attention in a coffee shop this busy. He pushed the door open and looked around for Glorfindel. There. His hair, longer than most men wore it nowadays, hung to his shoulders and made him quite conspicuous as he sat next to the window. His hands were clasped tightly under his chin as he stared out at the masses of people walking past. Maglor himself had never even cut his raven-black hair, and it hung down his back in a long ponytail.
Maglor walked up to the table. Glorfindel didn't notice him at first, but then he stiffened as he felt the other Elf's presence. He looked up at him. "Hello, Maglor."
Maglor nodded and sat down in the chair opposite him.
"Where is you harp?" Glorfindel asked.
"I left it at home," Maglor replied, an undercurrent of warning in his voice.
"Ah, I see your point," the blonde Elf replied. "So how have you fared?"
Maglor, who was removing his coat, shrugged. "The same as I have fared since the First Age, I suppose," he said, hanging it on the back of his chair. "And you?"
"The same."
There was a long silence as they searched for something to say. A young woman with dark hair walked up to the table, a pad and pencil in hand. She started to ask something, but stopped, startled at their appearances. Both wearing sable clothing, one jet-black haired, the other with pale gold, both looking intent and quiet. Why, they looked like a painting, what with their proud, perfectly-carved features. Gathering herself, she asked, "What can I get you gentlemen?" She didn't usually say "gentlemen", but for some reason, they seemed…nobler than everyone else.
The blonde smiled at her. "I'll have a small espresso." He looked at the dark-haired one. "What would you like? It's on me." Valar, he thought. I'm starting to talk like them.
"Oh, I'll have anything," Maglor said quietly.
"Make that two small espressos," the other Elf said. The girl nodded and walked off, looking back at them from over her shoulder.
"She notices something," Maglor said.
"Aye," Glorfindel nodded.
"Glorfindel, what are you still doing here?" asked the harpist.
"You should lower you voice," Glorfindel said. "Someone will think we are criminals. And please call me 'Laurence'."
"Laurence?" Maglor asked.
"It's the name I've taken," Glorfindel said. "Laurence Fendell. My closer acquaintances call me 'Lor'. If you say 'Lor Fendell', it sounds like my real name."
Maglor noticed he had said "acquaintances" instead of "friends". "But why are you still here?"
"I'm not ready," Glorfindel said solemnly. "I just feel some sort of hold to Arda. I suppose it's the twins, as well. And a little hope that things may be as they once were."
"You know that's impossible," Maglor gently rebuked.
"But one can wish."
Just then, the waitress came back and set their coffees on the table. She smiled at them as she left.
"She looks like Lady Arwen," Glorfindel said fondly.
"She does," Maglor nodded.
Glorfindel smiled, sipping at his coffee. He choked. It was still too hot, even for an Elf.
Maglor chuckled. "Who knows? Perhaps she is of the Lady's bloodline."
"Perhaps," Glorfindel nodded.
"What do you do now?" Maglor asked.
"I work as a journalist."
"High status?"
"No," Glorfindel said, sighing. "I get pushed around by a man who resembles a Halfling and smokes a cigar. A sad fate for an Elf-Lord, wouldn't you agree?"
"Aye, sad it is," Maglor answered. "I play in a small orchestra."
"Well, at least you can gain money from your talents. I do a little bit of painting on the side, but my work never sells."
"What do you paint?"
"The sea."
Again, silence.
Glorfindel sighed, put his head in his hands. "I miss the days of old, when we lived in splendor and among our own. What happened? Now we're objects of stories and tales that no one believes in, save children with imaginations and hopes."
"I know," Maglor said, trying to ease Glorfindel. "But at least you have Valinor to think of."
"But you don't," Glorfindel said sadly.
"No, I don't," the harpist agreed, shaking his head. He looked up at Glorfindel's distressed expression. "Do not grieve for me, brother. I reap my reward."
"It is a fate no one deserves," Glorfindel retorted softly. "You least of all."
Maglor finished his coffee. "Until I met you that day, I knew not that any of our kind still roamed Arda," he said.
"I knew there were others, but I never expected to run into you."
"Nor did I," Maglor said. "You isolate yourself?"
Glorfindel nodded. "I don't make friends with others. I know they would pass on, and I'd remain, and I'd have to reveal myself to them when they aged and I didn't. It was hard enough to be parted from Elrond and Erestor without losing other friends, as well."
Maglor nodded. "I understand."
"And now these mortals have destroyed our old havens, and cut down our forests, and poisoned the rivers, and wage endless war on their own kind," the blonde Elf said.
"It's a very terrible thing, this world," Maglor said, his head bowed.
They didn't say anything for a while. Then, Glorfindel smiled. "Would you like to stick together?"
Maglor looked up at him. "You mean, stay in touch?"
"Exactly. We can keep each other company."
"Sounds like a plan."
"Good!" Glorfindel grinned. He got to his feet and began to pull on his jacket. "I have to cover a parade tomorrow morning, so I'll have to rest. Shall I meet you here tomorrow evening?"
"I would like that," Maglor nodded, smiling slightly.
"Wonderful," Glorfindel said, laying a hand on Maglor's shoulder. "Try to cheer up." He placed the money for the coffee on the table. With a little wave, he swept out of the café and into the chilly air. Maglor lingered, watching the sun go down and the city light up. The waitress came by a little while later.
"Is this for your coffees?" she asked.
Maglor nodded.
She stared at the bills. "Why, this is twenty-five dollars!" she exclaimed. "You only owe seven!"
"Keep the change," Maglor said, marveling himself at Glorfindel's generosity.
"I couldn't, sir," she protested.
"He wants you to have it," Maglor said gently.
"Your friend?"
Maglor nodded.
She sighed, giving in. Maglor realized that she looked tired and worn, though she was very young.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Evana Williams," she said.
"Well, Evana, take care of yourself," Maglor said, putting on his coat and wrapping his scarf around his throat.
"Thank you, sir. I will." With a smile and a wave, she walked off.
Maglor smiled back and headed out the door, letting it shut on its own.
Tomorrow he'd see Glorfindel again.
For the first time in more than eight Ages, he felt cheerful. Perhaps things weren't as bad as he thought they were.
Try to cheer up, Glorfindel had said.
Yes, that's what he would do. It wouldn't be easy. But then, everything was easier when you had a friend.
Elvish Translations:
Sulaid: Greetings
A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed "Fated Meetings":
Ithiliel Silverquill: Thank you for all the lovely words and for noticing the formatting mistakes. My stupid keyboard causes a lot of problems!
Kalayna: I'd love to read that when it's done! And you're most welcome. I loved it, or it wouldn't be on my fav. stories list!
BanbieBunny: Something tells me he'd be very protective of his harp. Thank you!
Cyhiraeth: I love Maglor, as well, and thank you for reading!
Ellfine: Thank you, and I'm glad you liked it!
Das Blume: Thank you for the compliment, and it was an AU, meaning I let some of the Elves stay here. I just think it's a cool idea.
Rhys: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for putting this on your blog! (squeaks again) Thank you for all the wonderful compliments, and in truth, I put in Glorfindel just because he's a really cool character. Thanks again!
A/N: If you review, please don't curse! It will be appreciated.