Oooh, that was fast. I'm on a roll! I hope you all love this chapter.

Haldir was glad to step out of the glade and leave Aubrey and Eruanna to their conversation. The mortal's anxiety was stifling to him, pressing against him until he couldn't quite tell if the fear was hers or his own.

"I seem to have made quite the impression upon your mortal friend," Glorfindel said lightly, strolling across the grass. Out of the shade of the trees, the sun lit his hair into a bright flame.

"Indeed you have," Haldir murmured. He felt again a sliver of that dark jealousy he had felt when Aubrey admitted to kissing Rúmil—why, he had no idea. What was it to him if the girl was struck by Glorfindel's extraordinary beauty, as so many had been before her?

The Vanyar lord turned around. Each of his fine, long eyelashes was a golden filament in the sunlight. "The question is—have you made an impression upon her?"

Haldir groaned, tipping his head back in exasperation. "Please, not you as well. I have come all this way to escape Rúmil's taunts."

"In that case, you had better speak of what you wish to—or I will not be stopped." Glorfindel grinned.

"I almost do not want to," Haldir said softly. "For surely what I have to say will steal the smile from your face."

Glorfindel's brows furrowed. "Tell me, mellon nin."

"Orcs have come to our borders—from Dol Guldur. I had a letter from Erundil of Eryn Galen; he said that they had seen more and more orcs and spiders, and many other foul creatures, in the southern woods." Haldir related. "A party of orcs came to our borders some two months ago; they had evidently come from the east."

"That is troubling indeed . . . I take it you defeated their assault?"

Haldir's hands curled into tight fists and his lips flattened into a grim line. Nonetheless, there was no disguising the slight tremor that took over his features. "We did; but not without cost. Celedan fell."

Grief clouded Glorfindel's cerulean eyes, immediate and deep. "I am truly sorry. How is Meril? And his boy?"

"Meril is . . . coping. Barely. I think that she may leave for Valinor soon, and take the child with her. Little Roitar—I have not seen him since that night." I cannot bear to see his face.

They shared a long moment of silent grief before Glorfindel raised his head once more. "Anything that I can do," he said steadily, "I shall do it. I am at your disposal."

"Thank you," Haldir replied. "I hope that I shall not need your help, but I am glad of it."

"Tell me happier news," Glorfindel begged. "What else has happened in your Lórien? What about this mortal—tell me of her."

Haldir sighed, rolling his neck. "Where would I begin? She appeared on the plains to the west, before the mountains. We escorted her into the city and my lady Galadriel decreed that she must stay with us. I have been training her."

"Yes? How has she fared? I think even I would struggle under your tutoring," Glorfindel said, smiling slyly.

He huffed. "I have been more than patient with the girl. I must admit—though she was reticent at first, she has proven my expectations vastly wrong. She works hard and her dedication has paid off. I am . . . proud to call her my student."

Glorfindel's brow rose. "And perhaps your friend?"

Haldir swallowed uncomfortably. "Perhaps," he said softly.

The ellon raised his golden head suddenly, like a dog catching a scent on the wind. "I must—Eruanna," he murmured, striding quickly back towards the glade.

Haldir shook his head in wonder, following behind at a more sedate pace. He had never seen a bond of such strength between two elves, that they could sense the flavour of the other's distress almost before it was truly felt. Sure enough, when they re-entered the glade, Eruanna's wide grey eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Glorfindel went to her and took his face in his hands, murmuring endearments in a language Haldir did not speak.

Uncomfortable with the feeling of intruding upon a private scene, he looked towards his mortal charge and saw with some concern that her cheeks were flushed with distress, her own eyes pained. He sat beside her, the only gesture of solidarity that he could bring himself to give.

He was so intent upon her pained eyes that he did not register Eruanna's confession until a moment after she had given it. He shuddered at her words: I died.

Of course he had known the story—what elf alive those two thousand years ago had not? Two elves suddenly living in Imladris who had come back from Mandos, they were famous for their defiance of death. But it was not until he saw the gathered tears spill from Aubrey's eyes that he registered what the admission would mean to her.

Her face crumpled and she flew from the bench, stumbling in her haste to get away. He did not think—just ran after her, as fast as his legs could carry him.

Her head start did not afford her much of a lead and he caught her easily, grasping her arm and tugging her to a gentle halt. "Wait," he implored her.

She whirled around to face him and he recoiled from the fury, the hatred in her eyes. "Did you know?" She demanded.

"I—"

"Did you know?"

"Yes." He said simply. His voice was colder than he had meant it to be, but he could not take it back, even when all the remaining warmth leached from her normally bright, playful eyes.

"How could you?" She asked quietly. And then, when he did not respond, she lunged forwards and slapped him, a well-placed and powerful blow that he was distantly, abstractly proud of. "How could you bring me all of this way to learn that?" She gasped.

"You wanted to know the truth," he retorted, grabbing her wrists and holding them still. "Is it my fault if you don't like it?"

"You could have warned me!" She snarled. "We were travelling for three weeks, it didn't occur to you even once to tell me this?"

"No," he hissed in return. "I did not realise—"

"What? What didn't you realise? That I'm dead?"

"You do not know that for certain," he said. "Eruanna is from this world, you are not. Your circumstances are different." His voice was hard and cold and Eru, he couldn't stop himself. He felt as if he stood apart from his body, because he longed to take her in his arms and ease her pain but he couldn't.

"My God," she choked, "do you even care?"

Maybe he hadn't really, until that moment. But when she stood there, angry and hurt and terrified, accusing him of indifference, he realised suddenly how desperately wrong she was. He felt a shift within him; as if a dam had crumbled within him and now everything that he had held back was unstoppable. He darted forwards and grasped her shoulders, jerking her gaze to his with a rough hand on her chin. "I have spent hours teaching you all that I know to protect you," he hissed. "I have left my home and trekked for weeks to find answers. I have risked my life and my brother's, left my people unguarded. I have done it all for you. I care very much."

She looked for all the world as if she might stab him, had she a knife to hand. Instead, she took a deep breath and let it out in a long, drawn out wail that was half sob, half sigh. Her arms came around him and she sank into him, trembling. "I'm dead," she gasped, her eyes wild. "I'm dead."

"No," he murmured, slipping his arms around her waist and holding her tightly against his chest. "You are here, and you are alive."

"Eruanna said—and I can't remember the last few hours before I—before I . . ." she trailed off. Her voice was muffled in his tunic.

He took her hands from where they clung to the material of his shirt and brought them around to join with his between their bodies. He pressed one of her hands to his chest and the other to hers, overlapping their fingers. "I can feel your heartbeat, just as I can feel mine," he whispered. "Do you understand? You are alive."

"You don't know that," she protested.

"I believe it," he said. "I have to."

o0o

Rúmil set aside the transcript he was reading and looked up. Ilye was leant over a manuscript, a pen stuck haphazardly though her hair. "Ilye," he called, reaching for the test he had just finished.

"What is it?" She asked him, looking up with that dazed expression she gained whenever he interrupted her reading.

"I have been reading more about Eruanna." He said. "It has occurred to me—we all know that Eruanna and her husband came here through the Halls of Mandos, yes?"

Ilye frowned, retrieving her pen and using it to hold her page. "Yes, of course."

"Is it not possible that Aubrey, too, came to us this way? That she is—"

"Dead?" Ilye gasped. "But she is not an elf, she cannot have come from Mandos' halls. I had not even considered it."

"The only two people to ever have appeared mysteriously in this realm came to it following their death," he said reasonably.

"But Eruanna had no memory of her past life," Ilye argued. "Aubrey remembers everything."

Rúmil shrugged. "Glorfindel did."

Ilye shook her head furiously. "No—it would be too horrible for poor Aubrey. Eru, I wish I was with her," she said uneasily.

Rúmil reached across and took her hand in his. "They will return soon," he reminded her. "Be there for her then."

o0o

Aubrey sat upon a bridge, her knees tucked up to her chin. Far beneath her, a tributary of the Bruinen laughed over a small waterfall, making rainbows of the evening sunlight.

She did not know how long she had sat there, alone. Long enough that her legs were cramping, certainly. She hadn't been able to face companionship, not with Eruanna's terrible revelation ringing in her ears. I am dead.

She recalled thinking that Lórien was some sort of heaven upon first arriving in Caras Galadhon. How right I was, she thought bitterly. A cloud passed over the setting sun and she shivered, drawing her knees closer into her body.

"It is late to be out by yourself, Hiril Nin."

She stiffened, biting down on her lip. Go away, she wanted to say. She couldn't endure Glorfindel's obscene perfection. Being dead was bad enough, she couldn't cope with also feeling insignificant next to the elven lord's beauty. "I wanted to be alone," she said flatly.

"I am familiar with the desire," he said. His voice was light, carefree almost, but there was a gravitas to his words that reminded her of Galadriel.

"What do you want?" She asked him bluntly. Her mother would have been aghast at her poor manners, but she simply did not have it in her to be polite.

She heard the shift of his clothes and the scuff of his boot on the wooden bridge, and then he dropped down beside her, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the bridge. "I know what you are feeling," he said.

She wanted to scoff, to tell him that he couldn't possibly know, but he had spoken the words with a bald, honest truth that she could not deny. "How?" She asked him, looking at his reflection in the pool below them so that she would not have to look at his face.

He reflection smiled wryly. "Do you know what a balrog is?"

She shook her head mutely.

"I am from a city called Gondolin. In the first age, thousands upon thousands of years ago, I was a lord of the city. I was the head of a great house. At that time, there was a war going on—I will not bore you with the particulars, but suffice it to say that one day, Gondolin found itself under siege. The creatures that besieged us were great, and foul. Dragons, there were—but far greater were the balrogs. Demons of fire and smoke they are, ten times as tall as a man and hundreds of times more powerful. As they evacuated the city, I met one of the beasts in combat. Face to face we fought, upon the summit of a great mountain. I will never forget those moments. My armour melted onto my skin as we fought, so fierce was the beast's flame. At last, when I was seconds from expiring of exhaustion, I pierced the balrog. It fell with a tremendous scream, louder and more terrible than a nazgul. I had turned my back upon it, Aubrey—that was my mistake. For as it fell, it reached out and grabbed onto my hair . . . it pulled me from the mountain. What a hideous thing it was, to fall to my death in its burning embrace. The last thing that I remember is looking up and seeing Gondolin, my city—burning."

"You mean . . ." she broke off.

He nodded, tipping his chin back to look at the sky. "I died," he confirmed. "There seems to be a lot of that going around, no?"

"How did you—"

"Come back to life?" his voice was wry.

She smiled thinly. "I guess."

"I do not know. Eruanna and I were brought back at the same time, two thousand years past. We always presumed we were simply given another chance by the Valar. Perhaps it was the will of Eru himself." He mused.

"How did you—come to terms with it?" She asked him. "Don't you miss Gondolin?"

"Of course I miss it," he said softly. "But Gondolin is no more. Buried beneath miles of water it lies, unreachable to me through time. But what kind of life could I lead if always I looked to the past? My life is in this time, now. I have new friends, I have my wife."

"What about your old friends?" She pressed, turning finally to look at him. The affect he had upon her was nowhere near as strong as it had been that morning, but was still powerful enough to make her head spin.

"They are all gone," he murmured. "But I trust that I will see them again once more, in Valinor."

Aubrey bit her lip. "I don't think that works for me," she said sadly. "I . . . I came here hoping to find a way to get back to my brother."

"I am sorry for you," Glorfindel told her, and she believed him.

"I can't—I can't get my head around the fact that I won't see him again," she said. A sob bubbled through her words. "And I cannot stop thinking of him believing that I'm—that I'm dead."

"I know that this is not what you want to hear," Glorfindel said carefully, "but I must say it anyway. For elves, grief is a permanent thing. There is not a day in my life that I do not grieve for all that I have lost. We are eternal, you see, and so are our emotions. But humans, you are lucky. You are transient in your loves and sorrows, I have seen it. Your brother . . . I do not call into question your bond, for I have seen what great love humans may hold for one another. But know this—he will move on from your 'death'. He will grieve for you and he will miss you, but eventually someone else will fill that hole in his heart and he will live on."

A thick lump grew in Aubrey's throat and she bit down hard on her lip to keep it from trembling. She wasn't quite sure who she was if she wasn't Evan's sister. She looked down at the pool beneath her and whispered a wish to the great Bruinen. Once, she wished that Glorfindel was right, and Evan would be okay. But twice she asked that he be wrong, and Evan would never let her go.

Poor lass, she's having a hard time. (This was meant to be a really light hearted, happy fic you just WAIT until my Eruanna one good God).

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