Glorfindel could not sleep, but neither did he seek out Erestor like the old advisor offered.

The Vanya did not get out of his clothes; instead, he flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a long while. Erestor's question and his own explanation left him thinking about the nightmarish experience and the moments before he died.

The memory of heat from the lash and the balrog's hand made his chest and back feel abnormally warm, and he shifted to try and ease the discomfort. Glorfindel could truthfully say he was not sure how he managed to slay the thing. Aid from on high was the best answer he could provide, and he was the instrument used to achieve Eru's will.

As for death itself…

The last clear memory of his first life was falling down a cliff, and the next thing he knew was being alive again in Mandos. It was if only a second had passed: waking from a bad dream that felt all too real.

And it was real.

Glorfindel closed his eyes. He knew he had been alive long before he had true clarity of anything happening in Mandos. Elves were not meant to die, and so waking up from such a sleep deeper than any other slumber proved to be a little difficult. He would wager men could just snap back into wakefulness if they had the same privilege.

And that was all death was: nothingness. No knowledge of self or anything.

Absolutely nothing.

Nothing but eternal darkness.

Many ages ago…

Glorfindel panted as he blindly sought out his dirk to finally end this demon. The balrog stared in terror as it wavered; the wounds the mighty elf inflicted taking its wages on the beast. Glorfindel hurt, but he could not stop now, not while he was so close to victory. His hatred towards Morgoth and his servants for destroying Gondolin burned brightly: driving him onward. Finally grabbing the weapon, he let out a rage-filled shout and thrusted the weapon into the balrog's gut. It screamed, and it sent shudders into all who heard it.

Glorfindel stepped back, knowing he had finished it. He did not expect the beast to grab the ends of his singed hair, yanking him towards the cliff and with such force, Glorfindel briefly wondered why his neck did not snap.

And then he was falling, and all the terror he did not feel when fighting the balrog came flooding into his mind and heart as the inevitable death that such a fall would bring rushed up to meet him.

Primal instinct took over and despite his wounds, Glorfindel sought any way to slow the fall or to at least make the impact less harsh. But despite the vain attempts, Glorfindel got nowhere and he half screamed and cried.

'Please forgive me for my wrongdoings,' the elf begged to the Higher in his mind and heart. 'Do not let me-'

The elf never got the chance to finish the thought as he landed on the hard, sharp rocks at the bottom of the chasm.

Glorfindel thought he was dead when he came to. Well, he was not there fully, and Glorfindel would forget this ever happened when he did finally regain full consciousness. All the elf knew was that he breathed, and that was fine. That was all that mattered. He could not see very well, but that was fine too. Hazy images of people floated above him, and words he did not understand reached his ears.

All of that remained dim and unworthy to remember, much like a young babe that was unable to fully put things to memory, up until the day when they were a few years old the world started to come together, as well as their identity.

One thing Glorfindel would remember from this time of hazy existence was how much he hated fire and heat at first. Even though he could not grasp why at the time, he knew warmth meant bad things and always tried to escape it. But it kept coming back, and eventually, he started associating it with good things again, even if he did not know what those things were either.

And then, at some unknown time, Glorfindel found himself again.

He remembered falling like it was clear as day, and when he next blinked he shot up into a sitting position gasping for air and his eyes wide in panic. Glorfindel fell to the floor after scrambling off what apparently was a bed. He was unsure of where the bloody void he was or why he had been falling to his death just a moment ago to find he was in a grey chamber with absurdly tall windows.

"Laurefindel, be calm!" someone exclaimed.

"W-why am I here?!" Glorfindel yelled in a shrill voice, trembling and not truly seeing. "W-what is this place?!" He started fighting against hands that tried to keep him still in which he failed miserably. The fog came back to his mind and he slumped against something.

"Keep still, little one," the voice said again gently. "Keep still…"

Glorfindel almost wanted to weep as everything started coming back to him, but all he could manage was a few tears. The Vanya moved to support himself again, but he did not get off the floor. His eyes gazed about in apprehension as he took in his surroundings. Grey, grey, more grey…some other beds…and stupidly tall windows that did not let those on the inside see the outside. Then he took input of his own state of being and looked down. No wounds, no burns, all his hair was back and pristine.

The elf remained shaky and he about passed out as he saw the person crouching before him. A Maia garbed in silver with light softly radiating about him, watching the recently wakened elf carefully.

"I died?" Glorfindel whispered tentatively.

"You did," the being affirmed.

"Why am I alive?"

"You have been alive for a while now, Laurefindel. Only now has your mind and body reconciled with each other."

Glorfindel gulped, shaking the other hands off before getting to his feet unsteadily. Glancing at the other beds he saw the lifeless bodies of the other lords of Gondolin and was close to fainting again. At least they were not mutilated or destroyed…they only looked like they were sleeping from what he could tell.

"This…is Mandos, is it not?" The Vanya got out finally.

"Yes, Laurefindel, this is Námo's domain."

Glorfindel groaned and fell to his knees as dread filled his heart.

"Do not worry about what the future will bring right now," the Maia said. "You will have some more time to regain yourself before you must decide what road you will take."

Glorfindel did not bother to ask what that meant, too exhausted and confused to think about much except the fact that he died, and now he was in Mandos with dead friends around him.

The Vanya woke from a doze and breathed slowly to keep himself calm. Those early days in the halls of the dead (quite the ironic title…More like you are alive but in a really dead place), were filled with a sense of doom and uncertainty. There were some moments that felt like thorns were being pulled out of his being whenever he and Námo spoke as the Vala slowly picked out false and twisted ideas, and made void every argument Glorfindel used to defend for wrong actions.

But in the end, despite the pain and being ashamed many times, he came out better from it.

The later days in Mandos he thought were brighter and hopeful. He was humbled before Eru's highest creations and he was willing to do the Maker's will. He was stupid though for not leaving Mandos when the hour came for him to leave, wasting his time waiting for Ecthelion to wake up to the point of nearly dying again: which would have lasted forever in that case. The fountain lord did not wake up, and after Námo patiently lectured the elf one last time, Glorfindel regained his senses and did what was asked of him.

The Vanya smiled faintly as he thought about the good things he experienced since being brought back to life. Being found by Erestor in Lindon was one of them, and the days that followed, Glorfindel would laugh merrily about the times when he exasperated the elf so much that Erestor threatened to kill him again.

For all the pain from dying and having to be purified did bring, he would not have it any other way.