Glorfindel sighed contently, gazing out across his home, his Imaldris.
It had been nearly a century since he swore his oath to Lord Elrond and took over the position of Captain of the Guard of Imaldris. He was also quickly appointed to Lord Elrond's seneschal, a duty which he considered a great honor.
Although the breeze in Imaldris never bit quite like the winds of Gondolin did, the sunsets never quite looked the same, and the elves were of a far more laid back and easy disposition than he was used to, he found that he was happy in this little hidden valley. He had long ago become used to conversing in Sindarin and was quite content to go by the name Glorfindel as the Quenya version of his name held too many wounds.
But Imaldris was largely peaceful, the major wars all seemed to be over and casualties among his ranks were incredibly rare. Glorfindel even had the distinct pleasure of watching Lord Elrond's meddlesome sons, Elladan and Elrohir, as well as his lovely daughter Arwen, grow up. The pair had been quite the handful when elflings, but they had matured into fine and noble young elves despite the tragedy of their mother's sailing.
That, of course, was an event that Glorfindel will never fail to feel guilt over. If only I had insisted on traveling with the Lady... his mind always pondered. He felt that in that manner he had failed in his oath to Lord Elrond and was honestly a bit surprised when the Valar did not call him back. At the time he had begged and pleaded with them to take him back, to send him to those endless halls of waiting and let him wallow in his guilt there. Instead, he had only received a dream with a rather stern lecture from Varda about how his destiny still lied within Middle Earth. He had woken from said dream frustrated and no closer to answers than before.
But, they say time heals all wounds. Of course Glorfindel found this to be, as men might say, "complete horse shit," but nevertheless the passage of time allowed for the house of Elrond to push aside the pain of Celebrian leaving. The Lady Arwen still dwelled with her grandparents in Lothlorian, but the twins remained an ever constant presence in Glorfindel's life. They had joined the ranks of the guard and were often sent out on scouting and orc killing missions. The pair had the ability for the sweetest disposition, but placed on the battle field they were wild and fierce.
Glorfindel smiled slightly at the thought of the twins. Just this past week, they had returned from a scouting mission which had ended in a battle with a small band of approximately twenty orcs. While the small counting patrol had but seven soldiers, the orcs were easily defeated and only one guard had been injured, though it was but a scratch. As Glorfindel pondered the attack though, he came to a disturbing realization; the attacks were becoming far more frequent, and much closer than before. It seemed that perhaps his services would truly be needed more.
Turning from his perch at the edge of his balcony, Glorfindel strode down the halls of Imaldris to seek out his Lord's study. His golden hair streamed behind him as he moved, nodding politely at passing servants. Upon reaching the carved mahogany doors of Elrond's study, he knocked curtly, more out of formality than true politeness as he had grown increasingly familiar with the Peredhel over the years, and entered the office.
Lord Elrond sat behind his large desk, meticulous braids holding his raven hair back as he shuffled through a variety of papers littering his desk. He did not bother to look up as only two elves in all of Imaldris would enter his study so abruptly after knocking, and only one of them carried a sword which always seemed to clank upon the doorway.
"You do know that it is customary to wait for a response to a knock before entering, Glorfindel," Elrond spoke without looking up from a scroll he scowled particularly crossly at.
"My deepest apologies my Lord," Glorfindel of course sounded anything but apologetic as he bowed deeply. "I shall endeavor to meant my behavior at your behest."
"Is there a reason why you interrupted my reading of this incredibly fascinating complaint over grain stores?" Elrond asked, finally looking up with an expression of something between curiosity and annoyance.
"It is about the recent attack," Glorfindel's smirk faded and his face grew serious at the same speed as Elrond's. "I believe that the attacks over the last few months are no coincidence. Darkness is growing, I cannot feel it yet but I fear that I will soon."
"I had hoped that this would not come to pass," Elrond's voice became weary, revealing a small glimpse into his psyche. "I fear that you are correct."
"I would like to double the amount of patrols, sending out no fewer than ten elves in each," he said.
"I trust your judgment," Elrond replied.
Glorfindel nodded in thanks before swiftly striding out of the office towards his own with the intent to adjust the roster. Along the way he ran into the particularly boisterous twins of Elrond and informed them of the new developments. While they did seem concerned over the fact that orc attacks were becoming more common, they did seem eager at the thought of being able to ride out with the patrols more often.
Glorfindel found himself smiling brighter as he walked away, amused by the amount of life he found dwelling in the young elves of Imaldris. There is something to be said about living too long, about how it makes one less vibrant, less welcoming of the life they are blessed with. Glorfindel was determined to live and love the second chance he was given. And, if the Valor permit it, he would do everything in his power to keep Middle Earth safe.