Ne'ith5 and CAH, in their reviews of Episode 20, pointed out that I do not show Glorfindel's reaction to the return of his sword. Hence this epilogue to that chapter.

I would also like to thank Caspian Casp Kaist, leralonde, and KsandraMallan for their reviews of Episode 20.

Episode 21: Recognition

"Anomen," said Elrond, gesturing to an ornate scabbard on the table in his study. "Please take that weapon to the armory."

"Yes, Ada," Anomen said, picking up the scabbard and looking at it curiously. The tooling was not elven. Elrond smiled at his curiosity.

"It is a gift from Cirion, presented to me by his son Hallas," he explained. "You may look at the blade if you wish."

Anomen drew the sword from its scabbard and hefted it. "It is well balanced," he said appreciatively.

"Your judgment coincides with Glorfindel's," Elrond observed. Anomen tried to look nonchalant, but Elrond could see that the lad was pleased. The elf-lord laughed. "According to Glorfindel," he told the young elf, "the worst that can be said of your swordsmanship is that it is exceeded by your skill as an archer—but as you are the best archer of your age group, that is praise indeed!"

Now Anomen smiled. Resheathing the sword, he bowed and hurried from the room. As he came around the corner of the stable, he saw that Glorfindel, too, was on the path leading toward the armory. Suddenly self-conscious, the young elf slowed his pace. Glorfindel reached the building and vanished within. Anomen reached the door of the armory and hesitated. At last he took a deep breath and slipped inside. He intended to quietly place the sword and sheath on a table and then slip away.

Peeking around a corner, Anomen saw Glorfindel sitting on a bench, head down, with a sword lying on his lap. His back was to Anomen, but the elfling caught a glance of the weapon's hilt. It was the sword that Anomen had rescued from the thief.

"You needn't hide, Anomen," Glorfindel said abruptly.

Slowly Anomen came to stand before the balrog slayer. He looked at the older elf with something akin to reverence. Glorfindel smiled at the expression of awe on the elfling's face.

"You are wondering how I knew you were there, for it was true that you made no noise. You are quiet even for an elf!"

Anomen nodded.

Glorfindel smiled again and pointed at a cuirass leaning against the wall. An ornamental piece, it was made of silver. "Do you recognize that piece of armor?"

Anomen grimaced. He had polished it two days earlier as penalty for some transgression on the training field. Under Glorfindel's exacting eye, the young elf had done an excellent job, and the cuirass gleamed, reflecting—

"Oh," said Anomen sheepishly. "You saw my reflection in the cuirass."

Glorfindel laughed. "You are still permitted to worship me," he teased, "even though I have given away one of my secrets. Do not share it!"

No longer shy, Anomen grinned. "You want your foes to continue to believe that you have eyes on the back of your head."

"Aye, my foes, and the novice warriors, too."

Then the balrog slayer grew pensive again. He lifted the sword from his lap. "Thank you for returning this sword, Anomen," he said softly.

Glorfindel had never spoken to Anomen of one particular battle in which the sword had been wielded—the clash that had ended with the death of both vanquished and victor.

"What was it like?" Anomen said suddenly. "That time you were lost to Arda?"

At first Anomen did not think that Glorfindel would answer, for the balrog slayer remained silent for a long time.

"Like?" he said at last. "At first it must have been like nothing. I am told a long time passed before I returned to Middle-earth, but I have no memories that could account for the passage of that time in its entirety. "I fell," he began. He paused. "I fell," he said again, speaking slowly. "I felt as if I were plummeting through both fire and water, as if who I was—what I was—was being both washed and burned away. I felt as if no part of me could remain after such an ordeal."

He paused again. "Then there must have been a time of nothingness. I don't know where I was. I don't know if I was. Darkness took me, and I must have been lost beyond the realms of thought and time."

Glorfindel again lapsed into silence. In the distance a bell rang to summon folk to the noon meal. The balrog slayer looked up. "Bells," he said. "I awoke to a light sound, a merry sound, the tintinnabulation of many bells. Beside me lay my sword. I looked up and saw that the stars wheeled overhead. I knew myself to be in Arda. Then I heard the bells again, and I knew them to be such bells as elves attach to their horses when there is no need for secrecy. I arose and followed the sound until before me passed a procession of elves, at their head Elrond. I hailed him as Eärendil, for so he appeared to me."

"'I am not Eärendil', he replied, "but Eärendil was my father'."

"'Was?' I exclaimed. 'Has he perished?' In reply, Elrond pointed to the sky, to the Star of Eärendil the Mariner."

"I was perplexed, for I knew nothing of what had passed in my absence. The other elves were perplexed as well, for I was clad in the clothing in which I had perished centuries earlier. The heralds among them were at a loss, for they did not recognize my badges. Only our friend Erestor the Learnéd could make them out."

This last was uttered with a wry expression, and suddenly Glorfindel chuckled. "That was my first ever meeting with Erestor," he smiled. "This inestimable Erestor informed his incredulous comrades that I was from Gondolin. Lindir was amongst the company. 'That is not possible', Lindir cried. 'Gondolin fell long ago. Alas! Many were lost in its destruction'.

"'True', I said sadly. 'I myself did not escape. By this hand was slain a balrog, but with that exploit I perished."

"'A balrog was indeed slain that day', said Lindir, 'but how can you be the one to have accomplished the deed if the warrior who felled the balrog was himself felled? Here you stand before us, but the balrog slayer was Glorfindel, laid to rest with his weapons under a cairn erected in his honor by Tuor and Idril. It is said that the cairn still stands that marks the scene of the balrog slayer's victory and death'."

"Now Erestor spoke again. 'The cairn may still stand, Lindir', he said, 'but if you were to lift aside the stones, I do not think you will find Glorfindel's sword. Look at this warrior's weapon!'"

Glorfindel held aloft his sword, and Anomen gazed upon the letters engraved upon the blade. "Aegnor i Rúsëa, hyanda alcarinqua ar taura," Anomen read aloud. "Fell-fire the Wrathful, blade glorious and mighty," he translated.

Glorfindel nodded approvingly. "Your pronunciation of Quenya is excellent, and your translation accurate. Erestor's pronunciation and translation were likewise excellent and accurate. It seems he had done a study of legendary swords and had written a massive tome in which he had recorded all that he could glean on the subject. And so it was that I was recognized and acknowledged to be Glorfindel the Twice-born, balrog slayer."

Anomen nodded. "I have seen that manuscript," he said. "It sits on the shelf nearest Erestor's desk."

"Did you know that an entire quire was devoted to Fell-fire the Wrathful?"

"That seems a lot of paper to devote to one sword," Anomen said doubtfully.

"Aegnor has a long history," Glorfindel replied mildly. "Perhaps someday you should borrow the manuscript from Erestor. In your spare time, when you are not training," he added.

"When would that be?" Anomen asked mischievously. In the distance a bell was again heard. Glorfindel arose and placed the sword in its wrappings. "Certainly not now," he answered. "If we do not heed the second ringing of the bell, your brothers will not leave you anything to eat. Then you shall be forced to steal biscuits from the kitchen—a fearsome prospect, that."

Glorfindel laid a friendly hand on Anomen's shoulder, and he left his hand there until they reached the dining hall, when the balrog slayer removed it so that he could make an entrance that would be suitably stately. But once the elf-lord had taken his seat beside Elrond, he sent a wink Anomen's way. Anomen was pleased at the gesture. He was even more pleased, though, that Glorfindel the Twice-born, balrog slayer, had trusted him with his story. This was a gift that Anomen would never cease to cherish.