"Are you coming with us, too?"

The great Balrog-slayer of Gondolin almost gave a start when the little voice emerged from somewhere around his waist. Hobbits were not only small creatures, but swift and quiet as well, if they put their mind to it; and that morning, Glorfindel's thoughts were truly lost. The gentle breeze in Elrond's gardens could not chase his spirit back from the realm of imagination and dark forebodings, where they seemed to linger so stubbornly these days.

"Coming with you - where?"

"To that Mordor place, of course," said Peregrin Took with unwavering determination. "To destroy the Ring. We would be much less afraid if you came with us, you know. You could protect us even if the Enemy," (here, his voice was reduced to a half terrified, half amazed, but still amusingly dramatic whisper) "even if He sent all his Black Riders to kill us… or something even worse – a dragon, perhaps…"

Glorfindel smiled.

"We are not going anywhere. You have to go home to your Shire, Master Took, for that is where you belong. Dark times are ahead: you must try and prepare your kin for the dangers that shall inevitably come."

"No," the young Hobbit shook his head, "that is out of question. Our place is with Frodo. We are his friends, we must help him!"

"This debate is pointless, and you know it yourself. None of you can protect him! You are not used to the perils of the road, nor to the cruel machinations of the Enemy. His servants and designs may terrify you to death, and that is no shame; for you are entirely unexperienced in fighting or warfare. And you should remain so! You do not even know how to hold a sword properly; not to mention… I mean no offense, of course, Master Took; but I doubt that you are by any means tall enough to lift one."

It seemed that Peregrin chose to ignore both the fatigue and the gentle teasing in the Elf's voice.

"And how about Sam?" He crossed his arms in a manner that might have been menacing if he was some three feet taller. "He knows even less about these things than Merry and I do, and he could not lift a sword, either. Still, his insolence won him a place in Frodo's escort!"

"If you think about his task as an accomplishment of any sort," said Glorfindel in a low voice, "then you are gravely mistaken. To help his master is his greatest wish, aye; but I fear that it will break him. You were not made… we were not made to wrestle with the Dark Powers. The heroes who could stand before Sauron and match his strength are no more. We, the Firstborn live in an Age where our own power is fading; yet that of the Enemy only grows, ever grows. One would think that Sauron's malice should weaken with the passing of years; but that is not the case. With each assault, he comes up with new designs."

"And that would mean," said another voice, "that we, too, need a new design."

Glorfindel lifted his gaze to glare at the intruders of his peace. Another Hobbit was now standing beside Peregrin; slightly taller, slightly older, in his eyes a witty and cheerful gleam.

"We are no warriors, Lord Glorfindel: that much is clear," said Meriadoc Brandybuck solemnly, "and we would probably look very stupid clad in armour, with a great shield and a sword… or anything like that," he finished in a rush, as if the very thought were an insult to his personal integrity. "But Frodo is our friend; and if he has to travel a thousand miles to cast that Ring into that Fire, then we must follow. He never asked for it, you know. He never wanted us to do it. He even tried to slip away when he thought we were not watching!"

"We came up with a whole conspiracy," Peregrin nodded cheerfully. "He thought he was very subtle and clever. You should have seen his face when he understood that Sam was our spy all along! But we insisted on coming with him, and that will not change."

"The point is, Master Elf," said Meriadoc, "that we never asked for this, either! The road was set in front of our feet, and as soon as we saw the path, we knew that we had to go. No questions. No hesitation. No what if-s. We just knew what to do. I am not a hero, and neither is my cousin here… but for the sake of a dear friend, we can try, you know."

Glorfindel stayed silent for several minutes. The Bruinen sang his happy song somewhere behind and below them, and restless birds chased each other in the trees.

"In that case, young masters," he said at length, "I can tell you, that yes, there is a chance we will journey together."

~ § ~ § ~ § ~

"What are you doing out here?"

Erestor crossed his arms as if they were clad in steel; impenetrable, unbreakable. A shield.

Since when did his friend need a shield against him?

Since when was Erestor clad in steel?!

"Well..."

The forest was silent around them, and dewdrops glimmered in Asfaloth's mane.

"...guess."

"I cannot even dream of an explanation," said Glorfindel. "I have never seen you hold a sword since the Fall."

"You missed out on a few things," said Erestor sharply.

"So did you, if you thought that Elrond would doubt me."

Erestor hardened his grip on his upper arms. His knuckles whitened.

Glorfindel was looking at him with patience and compassion in his eyes.

"I am not ready to talk," Erestor said at length, "and you would not listen."

"Two excuses," Glorfindel sighed, "and neither of them true."

"Of course. You, after all, must have a clearer idea of what I think then I do."

Glorfindel closed his eyes. "…why?"

"Because it is not your path."

"Of course," Glorfindel snapped. "You, after all, must have a clearer idea of what my path is then I have."

~ § ~ § ~ § ~

Thud. Thud. Thud.

At first, the steps were too soft to discern, even for Glorfindel; but as he drew closer to his destination, it seemed as if they had always been there: as if one could hear it from miles apart, even. Only, they fit into the soft murmurs and rustles of the Last Homely House so perfectly that it was almost impossible to tell them apart.

Still – he could have sworn all along that the steps were still steadily, unquestionably there.

When he came around the last corner, he was surprised to see Erestor pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in front of the two-winged oaken door that led to Elrond's study. His eyes were closed and his fingers intertwined tightly behind his back. Head raised, face blank, muscles tense, he paced; and Glorfindel watched him for a while, half wary, half fascinated.

Then, there was a sound of movement coming from the room; a crackle of shutters as someone opened a window inside. Erestor paused, his hand moving slightly towards the handle; then abruptly, he turned around.

The two friends stared at each other, then Glorfindel made a gesture of affability with a rueful smile upon his lips.

"After your lordship," he said.

"And since when am I a lordship to you?"

"Since you stopped acting like my friend," said Glorfindel without missing a beat. "Do you think I am blind to it? You keep avoiding me. You believe that I am walking to my death; and thus, you must give up on me."

Erestor stared at him.

"Then go," he said; and in his voice was ice, and thunder. "Keep walking."