Notes:

This is a translation of part #1 of one of my longest finished German fanfiction series. I am not a native and apologize for any mistakes. The "Tales Untold"-series focuses much on Aragorn, Legolas and their respective relationships, but there's lots of other important plot lines coming into play, one of the biggest revolving around Glorfindel and Erestor.

The series combines the book verse with some circumstances from the movieverse, it ignores all of three of the Hobbit movies though (I wrote most of this series before those movies even were a thing). It's slightly non-compliant in places but I'm always trying to keep close to canon.

While the prologue of "Waiting for a star to fall" starts in F.A. 499, the story mostly takes place in the third age and takes several leaps from T.A. 2070 to the beginning of the War of the Ring (stopping just short of "The Fellowship of the Ring").

Comments are more than welcome. I'm thirsting for them like so many others.

F.A. 499

Strike … Cower … Block … Jump … Stroke from behind … Heavens, why was this boy so fragile looking? If this was any of his people, Glorfindel would not have felt qualms, preying on a clearly superior situation. But knocking someone out with a blow between his shoulder blades when you had to worry about hearing the sounds of cracking bones …

An annoyed hiss on his lips, he recoiled because his training partner immediately exploited his hesitation to get his own blade dangerously close.

A triumphant grin lit the pale face of the young Noldo when he spun around to raise his weapon again. "Didn't you say, negligence brings death to every warrior, captain?"

Glorfindel lowered his weapon sheepily, waiting until his training partner did the same, then he leaped and shoved him to the ground, choking every resistance by placing his sword to the other's neck. "Just like arrogance."

Angry about his own unwariness, the other elf pressed against Glorfindel's hard grip on his forearms but soon had to accept it was futile, especially since the sword's broad surface kept him from breathing with every passing second more. "I give up." Just three small words and yet so hard to mutter for a budding soldier. As much as the missing oxygen choked his voice, it still revealed unbroken readiness for combat.

A patient smile on his lips, Glorfindel got up and pulled Erestor with him. "Next time, it might end differently. It's not your skill. You lack restraint."

"I will work on that." Still out of breath, Erestor sheathed his sword in the battered holster on his belt and pushed back his mid-length hair from his forehead, sweat stained still from their fight. "Tomorrow?" he asked, hopefully, when Glorfindel climbed the broad stairs to the golden framed main entrance of his house, his thoughts straying already. An elf with so many responsibilities always had to manage his time well, and they had already spent more of it together than planned this afternoon.

"We will see." Glorfindel tried to emphasize the distance in his words. "You can't keep on spending your time here. Your father wants you home more often."

"Right." Erestor didn't even try softening his snidely tone. While he wasn't even halfway grown up yet, he was far from naive. His parents had probably long given up, trying to pretend they held him to the same high value as his brother.

For a moment, he didn't move as if expecting an answer, an encouragement that his trainer could not give him because he stayed out of matters like that on principle. When Glorfindel kept silent and walking, he shortly bowed, knowing Glorfindel would see it in the door's reflection and how important such things were to him, then he left the front yard, shoulders slumped.

Glorfindel waited until the boy had vanished through the gate's columns, trying to leave the conversation outside as he entered the extensive lobby of the House of the Golden Flower. Later, at dusk, with all of his daily duties taken care of, his thoughts would probably be back with his latest charge, but at least for a moment, the familiar view helped forgetting about his worries.

It had been on purpose, installing an entrance hall this huge, an impression heightened by the high ceiling and six-foot windows on three sides. What the room lacked was excessive pomposity thar would have only distracted Glorfindel from leaving the load of his everyday life outside. Symmetrically placed columns, unadorned, unlike the ones by the gates, seamed the sides. Disregarding an artfully woven carpet above the staircase, he had forgone every needless furnishing in here. A decision which might have left an impression of impersonality on a guest. Whoever knew the landlord of this mansion though, would probably admit the sight fitted him ... sober, uncomplicated and yet immensely self-assured. Not least it was the golden doors with the beaming sun in them, dominating this hall in every respect, filling it with the stored warmth of the very same star, that people liked to associate with Glorfindel.

This part of the house had been special to him from the start, something seldom seen in Gondolin. His house had never had much of the grandiloquent swank to be found in many other places of the city. He'd always appreciated this groundedness and in the past, had taken a few moments at every return to enjoy this feeling before attending to his responsibilities. For some time now though, he made sure to cover the distance to the stairway as quickly as possible. The quietness that tried to reach into every corner of the room as of late was unbearable.

It hadn't even been that long that cheerful voices, laughter and singing had ruled the house. Only since Glorfindel had returned from battle with not even half of his soldiers 27 years ago and the survivors had retired to deal with what they'd experienced, since the families of the fallen were drowning in ongoing grief, silence had moved into this estate. In here, the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, was living up to its name.

Every time Glorfindel was greeted by treacherous quiet instead of the buzz of voices, the pictures of these loss-filled days were on his mind, and he all but fled into his private chambers, where at least the sizzle of an open fire prevented being crushed by the emptiness.

"You like the boy, mîl, don't you?" His housekeeper awaited Glorfindel in his living room on the first floor – an encounter he could have done without after the talk he'd just had.

By now he'd given up on monishing her for addressing him on such a private level in public. There was hardly anyone left in this house who could be fooled still anyway. At some point, it didn't help anymore to systematically not look people straight in the eye to not give yourself away.

"You are a good watcher." Glorfindel fled the other elf's piercing gaze, stopping by the mantelshelf where a carafe of wine was prepared, like every night. Most of the time he left it untouched. Glorfindel had never felt as much urge for mundane pleasures as many others in this realm. Given the annoyed attitude of his partner, he was pretty certain though, he'd benefit from a glass to hold on to tonight.

"Do not give him hope." Sednara stepped behind him like she had the right, undid the cloak of his armor and opened the fastenings of the heavy plating with the huge sun on the front. A rather exaggerated effort for an opponent that weak, that more served Erestor's confidence than Glorfindel's protection. "He's not half as strong as the others."

"He never had good training. Inadequacy can be improved. If no one believes in him, he can't get better." Glorfindel dropped down on the white sofa by the fireplace and silently watched Sednara helping him discard his forearm and leg protection as well. It was nothing he wanted her to do, and not only because in unsteady times like these, it was always possible that someone could storm in announced with bad news. After many tiring discussions though, he had come to the conclusion that he would not be able to break some habits of hers. "The boy is too precious for a scribe. He's got the will and the spirit of a fighter."

"But not the body," retorted Sednara, in a harsh way like usually only the King and the other captains dared to disagreed with him.

"He's not even fully grown. His parents and his brother are nearly taller than me." Glorfindel realized, stunned, that half of his glass was gone already. Couldn't she have picked another day to criticize him about this? Or at least choose another subject to banter about before whatever she probably really had to say? He reached out for her to pull her down beside him, so they could watch the change of the day outside, which had become a treasured ritual. But today, she backed away before he could do more than touch her hand.

"It's not the height. He's way too thin. There's not an armor that fits him. He never leaves his room, except for being with you. You can't make this boy a close combat warrior, mîl."

"He's already shooting his bow quite well. If we ever face a disaster like that last battle again, we'll have to bring along every elf who can handle a sword anyway." Glorfindel started to feel seriously annoyed himself.

Sednara was not someone to rush her opinion to the front. Most elves hardly recognized her as a member of the realm. Her name would never be in any tale or legend. She was one of many. Someone not visiting this house regularly probably didn't even know she existed. On the streets, no one looked twice at her, for she did not captivate with either striking beauty or lavish clothing like many other she-elves. When there was a council, she would hardly speak up all evening.

But if she did say something, it was always a thing of significance, and that was why he liked their conversations so much. It helped him, clearing his own mind when he could have it ricochet on her in depth thinking like a softball. But today, she was testing his patience.

She had to realize how heavy this subject weighed on him. And not only on him but on everyone involved with the army, everyone who was responsible for filling the blanks that the fallen had left in the troops. While a huge part of the population might believe, Gondolin's hidden position would protect it from every danger, Glorfindel and a few other captains were certain that the battle three decades ago had not been the last.

Yes, the king had assured, credibly, that he would not meddle in the affairs of those living outside the mountains anymore. But that did not mean, no one would meddle with theirs. Living all but in exile in these rocks was a high price for a freedom, that all around their realm was threatened more every day. It was perfectly possible that they would not see the danger coming.

"And you want him to be at the front row then, just because you gave him more confidence than it's good for him?" Sednara did not move an inch, not her words, not her body. She kept on standing before him, with her arms crossed, her brows raised, waiting for Glorfindel to explain himself like he didn't have to with anyone else.

Her hands inevitably attracted his sight when he tried to collect himself to not answer too harshly, a sharp wrinkle of anger dug into his forehead. "You're wearing it again."

"It is my wedding ring." Sednara's voice changed to that high, displeasing tone that made Glorfindel wish for the dulled senses of a Secondborn regularly. "It's a sacrilege for every tradition, hiding it like that. I'm not putting it down in here as well." Angrily, she raised her right hand, the narrow golden band softly shining on her ring finger. In that unusual place, it was seldom attracting attention. "Besides, you're deflecting like you always do when you don't like an issue. By now you should know that doesn't fly with me."

"What's your deal with that boy all of a sudden?" Glorfindel put the empty glass on the side table too loudly. "You don't even know him. He's just another of my pupils, nothing more. And at that, he's bringing more heart and vigor than some of the most cherished warriors out there. I want to help him develop an independent personality, since his parents obviously can't."

"No, mîl." Sednara shook her head in sadness, feeling approved in a certainty about something that Glorfindel still couldn't grasp. "You want to help him develop your personality. And that's what you can't. For you, in the end he'll be just another too young life that you'll have to mourn in the midst of battle."

Glorfindel drew a sharp breath. Dead on target as usual. The army did consist of too many unexperienced younglings for his taste. It wasn't helpful, being reminded once more how many of them had not survived the last conflict. And how many of those, he was training ever since then would fall in the next, if he didn't make sure they were prepared for the worst as quickly as possible.

Just in time before he could become rude, he swallowed his reply, closed his eyes to let those emotions that intense slip from him. Sednara was the only one who could make him lose control like that. In times of peace, they could have had a debate like this all night and longer. Since he had started dreaming, everything had changed. If what his subconsciousness by now showed him every night would become real someday … The he would need all of his strength to not lose everything he'd ever built in his life. Then he would only get Sednara in danger if his thoughts were more with her instead of the world he was hiding her from so passionately. "This is talk about the future. I live in the presence, always did, you know that. Visions are for tale weavers."

She just kept on staring at him, still. Her thick raven her that no comb could restrain for longer than a few minutes, hung low into her forehead but couldn't hide that her green brown eyes in the dwindling daylight gleamed angrier by the second. Her fragile hands were hard fists, her chest heaved faster than usual. She was fighting for restraint, just like he did.

"Sednara, what is it?"

Instead of an answer, she turned abruptly, rushing to the door in a long stride.

Every other day, he would have let her go. That was how such conversations between them ended most of the time anyway. Sednara would calm down, she always did. Though this situation was hard to bear for her, as often as Glorfindel himself wished, he could have a family like everyone else, she had agreed to it. Someday they would go public. When one did not have to fear an enemy behind every corner. Until then, they had their nights.

Today, something was different though. Without really knowing why, Glorfindel got up and blocked his wife's way by heavily resting one hand against the door. "Talk to me. I hate it when you act like that."

"You don't even realize anymore, do you?" Her voice trembling alarmed him more than anything else. Had he ever seen Sednara cry? "You really think I don't hear you scream in your dreams? You think I don't see how you treat your soldiers, torturing them until they pass out? You know something, and instead of talking about it to someone, instead of warning the others, you've been hiding in this house for months. So don't you dare blame me for not telling you everything."

"Warn them about what?" Glorfindel asked through gritted teeth. "About their own incautiousness? That they're underestimating the evil on this world? I cannot open their eyes, there's others who need to do that. Elves who see more clearly than me and who can talk to them better. I can only prepare them and hope that whatever it is that some mazy pictures keep on showing me at night, will never come true."

"And if it is? If war finds us again and all these people out there … Will you lead them to death then, though you already know, you can't win?"

"No one knows things like these beforehand." Glorfindel started to get the upper hand; he gasped a quiet breath of relief. These were things Sednara just didn't know anything about, as much insight as she usually had into his mind and no matter how many books she might have read. These were matters that only warriors could decide upon.

"Let me go," she asked, quietly, her voice still choked in this certain strange way. "I need to go. I should have left long ago. I don't want to watch this anymore. I can't keep on imaging you risking the lives of all these young elves …"

"This is my work, Sednara, you always knew that. What is this really about?" Harshly, on the edge of rough, Glorfindel took her shoulders and turned her around. Seeing indeed some salt glistening on her pale cheeks didn't hurt as much as expected. Maybe because she'd made it to get him seriously angry now. His conscience was wearing him down enough, without her throwing things in his face that no one could change.

His wife leaned back against the door frame, as if the short conversation had exhausted her. Never before had Glorfindel seen her look that resigned or regard him with a smile that accusing before. It frightened him a great deal.

Sednara wasn't bitter. She was realistic, cool, not easily fooled. She was attentive. Prepared, unlike many others in this realm.

She was sad, too, on some days more than he liked it, about how they had had to consummate their bond far away from the others, so not even their closest friends knew. Lonely, because she lived in this house like an employee, except for the few hours she could spend with him in between.

But she was not bitter. For that, she had always believed his reassurances too much that this whole thing was only a temporary secret. A captain with a family was vulnerable and therefore unfit for work. Sednara had never wanted him to give up on what he'd lived for all his life, or to get himself into danger because of her. At least that was what she had always told him.

Now something had changed, all but overnight. That concern in Sednara's eyes was no longer directed at him. Her thoughts were gathering around someone whom he didn't know.

But who? Her mother had died giving birth to her sister, something not too rare but tragic anyway, something that sometimes still got under her skin.

And her father who had protected said sister and her for such a long time, in some remote cave colony where a few elves were living who didn't want to have any dealings with fighting at all ... Her father of all people had been killed in a battle, on that same day when he had not been able to ignore the calls of sorrow and despair outside that safe fortress deep within the mountains anymore.

Back then, much in that community and in Sednara had been damaged, as far as Glorfindel knew. That was what he had been able to gather from the few times, they had talked about it.

Sednara must have all but fled to Gondolin back then, because she would not have stood spending even another day up there, and how she had found her way here, she had not even ever told him. Her old friends, naturally, she hadn't seen since then, due to the strict secrecy concerning Gondolin; they couldn't even write to each other. So no one in that settlement that Glorfindel himself had never visited, knew about her work here, and especially not that she was not only living in this house to do it. Sednara couldn't even maintain contact to that sister whom for reasons she'd never told him, she had also left behind in this far realm.

There simply wasn't anyone left she was close to. Not so close, that their fate could upset her so much that she would suddenly doubt their eternal promise.

Unless …

Glorfindel lowered his arm. His hand was trembling, for the first time in hundreds of years.

Suddenly he knew, just like that, before she even said it. He shouldn't be half as surprised as he was - after all, they had made the decision to make this development possible some time ago. At least one single time, more or less unconsciously. Probably both of them with the same weak hope that things might change for the better. The next morning, they both quickly had realized again that in their situation, they just couldn't afford normal yet ... too late. Instead, all at once, everything had gotten even worse now.

"You better start thinking about the future, mîl. I'm carrying your child."

"Why didn't you say just so?" While his mind was still busy trying to deal with the news, his mouth already betrayed him, forming the only thought echoing in his head like a battle cry.

Sednara had wanted to go … If he had not stopped her, she would never have told him, she'd have left, forever maybe … With her stubbornness, it was entirely possible that she'd have tried to leave the city in secret. Her, the only light brightening his day in these difficult times, and without even letting him know …

The anger darkening Glorfindel's face made Sednara crawl back into that door even further. "I thought …" She stopped, swallowed thickly, suddenly robbed of her considerable vocabulary. "I thought, maybe you wouldn't …"

"What?" He was getting too loud, someone would hear, but what did it matter now? In a few months, everyone would know for sure what people had only been gossiping about behind every closed door so far. "That I would not stand by you? That I would not want a life with you anymore? Right, why would I want something that finally brings some laughter into this house?" He was sorry before he was even finished saying it, before Sednara stared at him, stunned, and finally left, hurrying to her room, away from him and this unmerited reproaches that he had never wanted to put on her.

She had trusted him.

She had come to him because there had been no one else able to comprehend her deep sadness about the fall of this world. No one to catch her, when her body and soul had threatened to fade. Depression had turned to melancholy, trust had turned to friendship. Friendship had turned to more.

Until Glorfindel had realized that in truth, it had been her who had saved him from tumbling into a bottomless pit. Sednara's sadness had become a part of his life that had kept him awake and alert, a constant that had brought them closer every time it had taken over, every time he had shown Sednara the way back to life. That was how he had gotten to know, to love her – what in the world had gotten into him, blaming her for that of all things? With one single, rash sentence should he have destroyed everything between them? He should have followed her immediately, to apologize and tell her that he was happy about what she had revealed to him ...

He couldn't move a muscle. The pictures from his dreams were dancing in front of his eyes as if they'd come to life. The screams, the fire. The blood. And amidst all that chaos, in a big pool of red, a tall but very petite elf with empty eyes, cradling a small bundle under her cloak. Now, finally Glorfindel knew what that bundle was that in his dream, he had ever only seen in a blur.

He sank back down onto the sofa and buried his face in his hands.

F.A. 500

"Stay on the safe road. I don't want you to be out at night. Listen to Rathilion when he says something, he knows what he's talking about. And if you …"

"Glorfindel …"

"What?" Annoyed about being interrupted, he blinked down at Sednara.

There was no time to lose. Somehow, with a lot of effort, he had made it to wrest the permission for this from his ruler, Sednara and Rathilion had sworn their oath of secrecy … Now they had to be quick. The region all around Gondolin had become unsafe in the last year. The scouts patrolling the close mountain passes had spotted groups of orcs combing through the area more and more frequently. So far, it was unlikely that they would find the secret paths into the city, but that wouldn't take much longer. The shadow was drawing closer, and the threat was growing every day. When would she finally get that?

"You're repeating yourself." She didn't sound irritated, not even tired. There didn't seem to be any emotion at all left in her, ever since they had left. Until now, a small part of her had probably hoped that Glorfindel would decide differently. Only now that they had reached the edge of the realm and stopped to say good-bye, she really seemed to realize how serious he was about all this.

Sednara's eyes were begging when she folded back her cloak and put their son into Glorfindel's arms for a last time. "He needs you, mîl ..."

"What he needs is a safe environment." As if his own soul wanted to mirror the turmoil even clearer that Sednara tried to suppress so badly, Glorfindel felt a few tears soaking the thick white linen the infant was sleeping in, when he held it close to his chest. "As long as I don't know what is happening here …"

"Let it go." His wife stopped him with a sharp gesture and took the baby back that had begun to cry quietly, as if felt that his father didn't want it being close to him. "It won't get better, no matter how often you explain it."

"This is not forever." Glorfindel tried to take Sednara into his arms but let go of her immediately because she stiffened as if he was a stranger. "I'm getting you back as soon as I can be sure, nothing will happen to you here. I cannot live with this thought, why don't you understand that?"

"But you make me live with it," she answered bitterly. "Me and your son, once he's old enough to ask me where his father is." Only for a moment, her rugged features grew soft when she kissed the baby on its forehead, because it still wouldn't calm down.

Glorfindel had nothing to say to that. Yes, his wife would have to keep on suffering the fear for him, and he couldn't even tell her when the situation would change. He shrugged, helplessly, trying to find an answer in the storm of emotions raging inside of him that wouldn't hurt her. He seldom was at a loss for words, but this wasn't a problem with his troops, unwilling soldiers or stubborn superiors.

This was his family, his child … Every time he looked at his wife, this understanding, this deep feeling of happiness tried to overwhelm him, but it couldn't win against the voice of fear screaming at him, ever since the dangerous, difficult birth, that he had to get this happiness away from here to keep it safe. It was the biggest sacrifice that had ever been asked of him, to not be able to see his son grow up, learn, laugh. And at the same time, the only chance he saw. Around here, he just couldn't take care of them.

Maybe he wouldn't even be able to take care of himself. It was a thing of irony that the last vision that he always woke up to, the one that left him drenched in cold sweat every time, was the one that scared him the least. He would handle his own death, somehow, now that he knew that he wouldn't drag the two elves down with him that he cared more about than anything or anyone in his life.

Before he could hug her again, Sednara backed off and nodded at Rathilion who had waited in the distance discreetly, who now sat down on the coach box without a word.

The Noldo was one of Glorfindel's best and most loyal soldiers, still his heart ached with the thought that it should be this elf, taking care of his wife and his kid for some time now, while he could only wait and hope. Wait for them to arrive in some far away realm where there was peace. Hope that everything would turn out for the better and if it did, that they would still be there then. That Sednara would not exclude him from their life completely.

That cool look in her eyes amplified that worry to dizzying heights. Nearing her again, he put his hand on her cheek through the side window – the last touch for a long time. It felt like unbreakable barriers had been built between them already. Her skin was cold like marble from all those tears she'd cried in the last days and weeks. What if she would decide to break off every contact? To punish Glorfindel for wanting only the best for her?

All he could think of saying was the same promise that they both had held on to for years, through all secrets and difficulties. That sentence that somehow had always been able to mend everything, no matter how angry she had been with him. Today, even that one sounded empty, hollow. "I love you so much, Sednara. Both of you."

For a much too short, precious moment she caressed his hand, with her fingertips, her lips, her tear-stained cheek.

Then she pushed him away. "And I suppose, that it is not enough."

Before he could answer, she had already told the soldier to get the carriage going, so loud, so annoyed that the baby on her arm was screaming even louder.

The scared, desperate crying of his son would be the only thing that Glorfindel would hear from his family before his death.