Spirit Guardian
Tobi is a good boy
I do not own Lord of the Rings
ONE
His knife easily cut through the thick copse of water reeds. This did not, however, prevent them from grasping onto his clothes, knotting the remnants of his once renowned hair. The thin barbs of the reeds cut at his exposed flesh. He winced at the brief moment of flashing pain that quickly dissipated. Water, cold and unfeeling, clung to his powerful thighs. It moved in ripples outward as he shifted forward into yet another knot of reeds.
The silver blade provided the only colour in the grey saturated landscape.
Ahead, his goal loomed.
The Door was the only noticeable landmark in this strange place.
Standing a height, no man, elf, or dwarf could hope to build, The Door stretched impossibly high, cut from obsidian that glimmered dully in this sunless and timeless place. There were runes etched onto it, runes that he somehow knew were as old as world itself, perhaps older. One of the runes was marred into obscurity by a long scratch. The sight of the destroyed rune made him nauseated and he could not bear to look at it for any length of time.
The reeds shivered and swayed as his silver knife slashed upwards, leaving the half-bent stalks of reeds in its place. The water gripped around him as he inched forward, towards the presence of the Door.
Something behind him stirred.
The reeds twisted around him, their branches hissing against his skin.
There was no wind here, the only movement was made by moving through the thick reeds.
Quickly, he slashed at another outcrop of reeds, forcing his exhausted legs through the mired water.
Ahead, the Door still loomed, out of his reach. The field of reeds stretched in every direction in his line vision apart from what could only be called the sky above, for he knew no other words to describe the flat, grey, and cloudless scene above his head.
He narrowed his blue-eyed gaze, readying his knife, the last weapon he had.
He could not remember how he had come to be in such a place as this, only that fire and pain had brought him here.
The thought of fire burned his flesh, crawling in tendrils across his breast, colouring the grey world momentarily with flame and screams. A stabbing pain thrust across his shoulder, and he cried aloud, his voice filling the soundless surroundings
A shadow rose out of the reeds, rising upwards into a hideous form created from mud and reeds. The reeds twisted into a beast, tall and thin like a tree, with powerful wiry legs and long, curled arms that rested by its sides. Its wide, curved mouth gaped open, red gleaming brightly within its gaping maw. The long, twisted claws tore at its grey face until two ruby-like eyes were revealed in its dark flesh.
For a long moment, the two stared at each other.
He shivered, feeling the twisted malevolence coming from the beast. Around him, the water reeds trembled, grazing against his sides. The beast's red eyes smiled down at him, watching him like prey twisting in a cage. It gave almost a wry grin and with long legs began striding through the grey fields with ease.
He knew with sudden clarity that the beast should not make it to the Door.
He gritted his teeth together, fighting against the pain and exhaustion within his body. How easy it would be to fall asleep, to slip away. He shook himself, seeing that the beast was already ahead of him.
It suddenly raised its long claw-like hand, staring at it with red eyes with something akin to wonder.
A tendril, created from the water reeds, slowly grew from its claw and raced through the grey field towards him.
His knife only sent sparks and pain coursing through his body.
The tendril wrapped itself tightly around his waist, burning through his flesh, dragging him unwillingly through the field towards the beast.
The beast then pulled him sharply upwards until his body laid in its open paw.
"A sacrifice is needed to open the Door again."
Again?
This time with certainty, he knew why he had come here. It came to him with sudden clarity that it cleared his mind of all else. The fire rose around him, the memories of recent pain and loss with it.
Ecthelion's knife.
He grasped the handle of the blade within his scared hand, hiding it. The warrior had given it to him before he had passed into the Halls of Mandos, securing it tightly in his unwilling hand. He had unashamedly wept at the loss of a skilled fighter and friend, who had almost been as close as kin to him. Ecthelion's dying breath would never leave his memory, nor the elf's courage.
The beast raised him upwards, his wide maw grinning, flames licking his body. But he felt naught the pain or the torment of the flame, for he knew that his death had come. He welcomed it, embracing it close to his breast with the hope that he may see his friends once more in Valinor.
"Never again will you come through this Door!" His words rang true with the prophecy of one about to die.
The beast laughed, echoing horribly throughout the empty landscape. Its' twisted claw pierced through his chest, blood trailing out of his body onto the ground far below.
The Door remained steadfastly closed. The runes glowed, shifting and dancing on the obsidian stone, crawling with an unknown song.
Lines of blinding light cracked on the beasts' monstrous form, the blade of Ecthelion driven deep into the beast's heart.
It gave a howl of desperate anguish as it died, the body of its' prey rolling unceremoniously onto the grey field below.
The prey's blood stained the grey landscape red, until the water washed the stain away, leaving the landscape as grey as it had once been, before the events between beast and prey.
For how long the body laid in that timeless field, no one knew.
One day, a grey cloaked figure appeared, the reeds parting softly from their bare feet.
The figure knelt beside the body, pressing a long finger to the body's pale forehead.
"Arise, Glorfindel, for your need Here is not yet done."
The body slowly rose, colouring and health returning to the marred, burnt flesh. His blue eyes widened once he saw the figure before him.
"My Lady!" He exclaimed, his voice long hoarse from disuse.
The figure smiled, both with pity and grace upon their face and offered a hand to the elf.
"My husband wishes to speak to you before you return through the Door."
"Return?"
The figure spoke no more, only to raise her hand once more, drawing a door out of the landscape and beckoning the elf through with a brilliant smile.
The door disappeared, leaving the grey landscape and the silent obsidian door in its' place.
He felt as if he was walking through a tapestry, feeling each individual thread as it brushed against his skin, each thread giving off a resounding, other worldly musical note.
He was pulled through by the gentle guidance of the Lady.
Glorfindel's vision adjusted to the sudden, soft light that was akin to the gentle glow of sunlight.
A hall of pure white marble stood before him, stretching impossibly far, with plain columns supporting a ceiling that was a multi-coloured tapestry that shifted and changed with every movement.
It was more beautiful than any tapestry that Glorfindel had seen in all his years and service to Turgon, who gathered many items and things of beauty.
At the head of the Hall, his eyes were drawn to a tall figure that was so unlike the gentle presence of the grey robed Lady beside him, that Glorfindel knew immediately that he gazed upon Mandos, Lord of the Spirits.
Mandos wore a simple black woollen robe, held together by a belt that was created by thin reeds woven together. No crown or jewels adorned his brow or person, but there was both wisdom and kindness held in eyes that reminded him of the deep wells of Gondolin.
How often had he stood, gazing into their depths, questioning purpose, his service and love to Turgon?
Like the wells, Mandos's eyes offered no answers.
Hastily, he remembered his manners and bowed, as he realised that he was naked as the day he was borne. Shame burnt upon his cheeks, and he tried to cover himself hastily within the presence of Mandos.
Mandos approached him, the dark eyes boring into Glorfindel.
The Lord of Spirits bowed towards him and rose.
"We all are equal in these Halls, Glorfindel of Gondolin. Rise! Be not ashamed!"
Glorfindel quickly obeyed, his shame escaping him as fleetingly as it had come.
The Lady moved from her position to stand beside her husband, grasping his dark hand in her own slim one.
"My Lady tells me that it is not your destiny to end your days in Valinor, but to return to Middle Earth."
The Lady spoke, her voice filling the chamber, "Your thread in the tapestry has not completed its' story."
"I have foreseen your coming to my halls, so I will aid in the task that Eru has given you as befits my powers. Dragonhelm! Come forward!"
From the shadows, a tall mortal man appeared, wearing a fierce helm that gave the wearer the appearance of a dragon. An unsheathed black sword hung on his hip.
Glorfindel openly stared at the mortal, who was already the stuff of stories and tales within Gondolin.
Turin Turumbar nodded towards him with grace and elegance so alike to an Elf that for a moment Glorfindel forgot that the man was a mortal.
"My Lord?" Turin intoned.
Mandos replied with a nod of his own. "Will you aid this elf by training him in the art of arms?"
Glorfindel did not know whether to be offended by this remark. He had spent many years training and exercising his body to perfection.
Turin's black eyebrows rose in surprise: "But he is an elven warrior of Turgon!"
"I believe my husband wishes you to train him as a Guardian, as you are of this Hall."
A Guardian?
As if hearing his thoughts, Mandos replied: "A Guardian of the Spirits, Lord Glorfindel. But it must be your choice to do this, for a Guardian's duty is long and arduous, often mingled with grief and loss. For the Guardians protect the Doorway between Life and Death, but also return lost souls onto my Halls."
"I understand," Glorfindel replied, "I am ready to do my duty, My Lord."