Panicking Glorfindel along with some Ringwraiths.
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Glorfindel feels like pulling his hair.
"She's…where? With my horse?" he says softly, trying to make his voice calm and not at all panicked.
"Lord Elrond found her first, my lord," the stable hand answers, sounding remarkably unruffled by the whole thing.
"Ringwraiths!" he mutters, storming out and feeling a very strong urge to hurt something. "My lovely wife against Ringwraiths."
Elrond catches him just as he is starting to build up the energy to pace. His old friend's face is apologetic.
"Gandalf's message was urgent," he explains. "And we couldn't find where you were."
Glorfindel was out picking flowers, not that he would tell his friend that. Even with the centuries that had passed, Melui still loved flowers. Finding new ones to surprise her with is part of his hobbies.
The calming hand on his shoulder helps. While it had been some time since Melui had joined a patrol, she still was and is a formidable warrior. That still didn't stop him from worrying.
"She will be fine," Elrond says calmly. "And if she finds Estel, then he can watch over her as well."
It isn't enough, but he stops pacing. He is still agitated and restless though and likely throwing around his aura, as evidenced by the absence of people around him.
Asfaloth shows up a few days later, barely tired but chased by a bunch of Ringwraiths. That Melui is not on his back makes him show his wrath, thinking the worst. That makes all of them flee in terror.
The moan from the saddle has him summoning Elrond and whistling for his horse sharply. It is not Melui but a halfling, delirious and on the verge of death. Of merging with the shadow, if Glorfindel is reading his aura right.
Everything from that point on is a blur of activity as they try to keep the halfling alive. Gandalf shows up at one point and Glorfindel wastes two seconds debating whether it would be worth it to punch the Istari in the face. He decides against it and makes a note to lament the fact to his wife, when she showed up.
Still, to wake up to her lovely smile after a few nights of loneliness is lovely. Her eyebrows are scrunched up as she listens to him sigh and bemoan the difficulty of punching Istari's.
"You ridiculous, dramatic elf," she sighs. "I was fine. They hardly wanted me. They were after Frodo and his package."
Even after centuries, she's still as practical as ever. He loves that about her. Unchanging and such a pillar of support.
"They could waited for me," he pouts.
She laughs and proceeds to make fun of him.
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