Glorfindel, lord of the house of the Golden Flower, stared incredulously at the Lord of Mandos.
"They think what?" he finally choked out. "That me and…? What on Arda gave them that idea?"
"I do not know," Namo replied, "But I felt that you should be warned before any of them come here. They are going to be very surprised."
Glorfindel shuddered. "And my namesake did not discourage this idea?"
There was an ominous rumble. After a second, Glorfindel realized that it was Namo's laughter.
"He tried. But the twin sons of Elrond did not let him. They thought it would be hilarious. Those two are quite the masters of persuasion."
"If I ever get my hands on them…" Glorfindel muttered, curling his hands into fists.
"You would do well to remember that they are your lord Turgon's descendants."
"But still…does the impostor even resemble me?"
"Oh, yes! They wouldn't call any dark-headed Noldo Glorfindel, after all. He is very close to you in looks. Come, I can show you. Look here." He gestured to a large glass on the wall. Glorfindel glanced at it and saw himself.
"What does this mean?" he asked but the lord of Mandos was no longer there. The whole room had gotten very dark without him noticing. There was a sliver of light in the distance that was steadily growing closer and closer and—
Lord Glorfindel formerly of the House of the Golden Flower and now of RIvendell woke up in his room in Imladris feeling incredibly confused.
"Elrond!"
The lord of Imladris looked up from his book to see a very disheveled Glorfindel running down the stairs.
"Elrond! Tell me! Tell me, am I really the lord of the Golden Flower who died fighting a Balrog, or is this all an elaborate trick played by your sons?"