"I think that's enough for now," Glorfindel, who usually preferred a lighthearted air, dipped back into the tone of a Noldor Lord.

Elrond silently acquiesced, and though it was his office, herded Erestor out the door. Then Glorfindel, moving slowly as one does to avoid frighting a skittish creature, crouched down in front of Elenya, for she would always be Elenya to him, and waited. She still had her arms wrapped around her wolf's neck and she seemed utterly exhausted. For a long while they remained like that, her clutching Nightshade like a lifeline whilst he patiently observed. Finally, she turned to look at him with those bright, Valar-lit eyes.

"I never understood what I am... and now I still don't," for a moment, that cold shield that she always held crumbled, and in its wake was naked fear.

"You're my Elenya," Glorfindel whispered, his hands reaching towards the maiden who he had loved since Gondolin. "No matter what, no matter who you think you are or who destiny say you are... you're my Elenya."

With that, he reached into his cloak and pulled out the item that Elrond had handed back to him upon their arrival in Imladris. He felt the weight of it in his hand and rolled his thumb across the cool metal. He then carefully reached forward and gently pulled one of Elenya's arms away from the wolf, depositing the item in her hand. She brought it closer to her face and opened her hand to reveal the hair clip.

"It's... it's the clip you gave me," she was looking at it with a certain amount of wonder in her eyes. "The one I attached to Asfaloth."

"Yes, and for as long as you are willing, it's still yours," he watched the way one of her fingers idly traced the edge of the golden flower. "It's the symbol of my house... I'm the only member left on this side of Middle Earth, but I've still kept it as my symbol..." He hesitated a moment, but he ended dup asking anyway. "May I?"

Elenya paused, but slowly nodded her head.

He moved behind her and carefully gathered the twin braids and brought them together behind her head, fastening them in place with the clip. His hands lingered a bit longer than necessary on her hair, but soon the moment was gone.

"You should hate me," she said plainly. There was no drama, no grandiose announcement, not even a trace of resentment could be heard in her voice. She spoke as one does a plain and simple fact.

"I could never."

"I abducted you, I held you as a prisoner and prevented you from fulfilling your duties."

"You abducted me to prevent me from being killed, and held me captive for the same reason. The Ringbearer made it Imladris and a Fellowship was formed instead. All is well," he couldn't quite believe Elenya's words. He didn't think it would be physically possible for him to ever hate her.

"Sauron seemed hesitant to go after you without my say so... you might have been fine if I refused."

"Or I might have been killed," he shrugged. There was no use dwelling on the past or 'what ifs'.

"Glorfindel, I almost sold you to Saruman! I almost-"

"You didn't," he said as firmly as he could. In his mind, the moment of doubt that he had was a failure on his part. This was his Elenya, his savior who faced a Balrog for him, who saved his life more times than he could count despite being given every reason to not care. "Come!" An idea came to his mind and a smile crossed his face. "I've something that I wish to show you!"

His cheer was back as he lept up and offered a hand to Elenya who eventually accepted it. Off they went, him leading the way as they marched towards a familiar looking shop. Elenya seemed to recognize it as a small smile crossed her face. They greeted Dammorian who seemed a bit surprised to see Glorfindel, but he made no comment as he went to retrieve the weapons. The smith managed to whisper that Glorfindel's "other commission" was not yet done, but he quickly thanked his old friend and guided Elenya out. They made their way to the hidden practice field usually used by the twins, who were on patrol at the moment, and by then Glorfindel could barely contain his excitement.

"So..." he grinned as Elenya tested the blades in her hands. "What do you think?"

The blades were a work of beauty and the deep black patina practically glistened under the noontime sun. She held them with a firm grip, slowly spinning them to get a feel of their weight. There was a shadow haunting Elenya's eyes, a shadow that Glorfindel was all too familiar with. It was the same look he saw in Ecthelion when they learned that Gondolin wouldn't remain hidden for much longer, it was the look in Elrond's eyes after King Gil-galad fell, and it was the look in the eyes of the twins after their mother sailed. It was a conglomeration of grief, sorrow, rage, helplessness, and frustration at battling something that you couldn't fight. Elenya now knew her heritage, she knew who was responsible for both her birth and abandonment.

There was only one thing that Glorfindel had ever known to help in such situations. He took several steps back and drew his own sword, holding it in a ready stance.

"Shall we test them?" He asked, nodding towards the new blades that Elenya was still carefully inspecting.

"Are you sure?" She seemed hesitant.

"Come now, a bit of friendly sparring lifts the spirits," he grinned, one foot creeping backwards to brace himself.

Elenya looked to Nightshade and then shrugged, shedding her cloak and lifting her own two blades. Once she was ready, Glorfindel began counting down from three. At one, he lept forward with a wide swing that Elenya easily dodged. She moved in a graceful pirouette, feet barely touching the ground as he wings lifted her slightly, a flurry of feathers crossed Glorfindel's vision and he was buffeted across the back with one broad wing.

He spun to face his opponent and saw the feral grin light across her expression. He met it with an equally amused smile.

"I'd say that's cheating," he jutted his chin towards her wings.

"Not my fault you left your back open."

"I was busy watching for your blades."

"Always guard your back," she replied before launching towards him this time.

Her twin blades sang as they moved in alternating figure-eights, sliding past each other so rapidly that Glorfindel could barely spot a gap. His heavy blade clanged against them, but he was unable to utilize his usual broad strokes for she danced in and out of his range, every part of her moving at the same time. There was a fierce smile on face as they broke apart and circled each other. Glorfindel feigned left before darting to the right, his sword almost clipping Elenya on her thigh, but she pulled away at the last second.

Now watching her fight with a type of precision and ease that he had yet to see in the past, her heritage seemed obvious. Glorfindel remembered his time around the Valar well, and he could see them in her. She swung her blade with Tulkas' strength, swayed with the grace of Nessa, her wings lifted her into the breeze with the ease of Manwe, the beauty of Varda shone in her eyes, and the grace of Yavanna echoed every time she touched the earth. She was of Ainur stock.

One of Elenya's blades darted forward, the tip almost catching Glorfindel's ear. He parried back with a swing that could've taken off her head if she weren't so quick. He had always been fast with his sword, but Elenya's dual blades seemed to be an extension of her arms she she moved them with a type of precision that he knew was driven from something far more ingrained than practice. There was a grace in her movements that was beyond that of even the Eldar. He knew that he could not out-dance her, but he allowed her to draw in closer and closer, baiting her till she was nearly upon him. Then, he unleashed a flurry of blows, buffeting off her slim blades as both their steels rang out so loud that he was certain the whole valley could hear. Eventually, she escaped from his trap with a trick move using one of her wings to swipe at his feet.

"Getting slow old man?" she teased as one of her blade almost succeeded in clipping his wrist.

"Old? You were in Gondolin too!"

"I was a kid," she shrugged as she leaned away from a cutting swipe. "Also, time apparently moved differently in my world so I wasn't around for the past several thousand years like you."

"Ya well I was dead for a while in the middle."

"Touche."

In the past, Glorfindel would've assumed that a pair of massive wings would prove to be a distinct disadvantage in a fight. They're bulky, would throw off a swordsman's balance, and create a massive target area. But, he now knew that such would be a false assumption. Elenya's wings were not like a burdensome pack dragging her down with weight, they were as much as a part of her as her arms and she used them as she fought. They worked to balance her in positions that would've thrown any other opponent off balance, they added a burst of strength and speed her to her lunges and pulled her back rapidly in her retreats, they allowed her to dance through the air, and even worked as weapons themselves when they buffeted him back.

One particularly clever strike had Elenya laughing and Glorfindel faltered, nearly losing his foot before he regained his focus. He had never seen her such before. There was no trace of the usual somber air that hung around her. For the first time he was able to witness her with no cloak, no mask, blades out, wings in the air, hair unbound, and expression unguarded. The wind tugged at her long hair, creating a crown of inky black as her eyes shone in the midday sun. His first instinct was to compare her to a flower, but that would be wrong. She was nothing so delicate as a blossom, she was every flower in a Spring field blooming at once. She was a force of nature, beautiful and feral and savage.

Dust was flying all around them and Glorfindel knew that if they had been fighting in the main training arena, they would've drawn a crowd by this point in their sparring match. He watched Elenya's singing blades carefully until he saw the slightest opening in her strokes. Taking full advantage of it, he lept forward and jammed his sword between hers, sliding down the blades and locking them together at the hilts. With one mighty twist he retched both her blades away, but the momentum carried his own sword out of his hand. Before he could declare the match a draw, Elenya lunged forward and tackled him.

The pair became a tangle of limbs as they rolled across the dirt. The wrestling match become more play than battle as hair and feathers become so tangled that both of them were coughing whilst glaring at the other indignantly. Eventually, the dust settled around them as Elenya sat triumphantly on his waist, her wings like two massed of muscle caging in either side of Glorfindel's head. For several moments they sat like that, chests heaving as they both caught their breath.

Later, Glorfindel wouldn't be sure what caused him to say what he did. Perhaps it was the view of Elenya hovering above him as she once did in Gondolin that triggered a memory, perhaps it was the will of the Valar, or perhaps it was pure instinct. But without warning he spoke.

"The blades weren't my only promise to you."

"Hmm," she raised an eyebrow, curious, but a hint of caution creeping back into her expression.

"I promised that I would show you my scars."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

He waited a moment and Elenya nodded, swinging herself off him and sitting on the ground, watching him. Nightshade seemed to sense that something was happening as she ambled over from her watching site to sit by Elenya's side. He pushed himself to a sitting position and closed his eyes inhaling deeply in preparation. He searched within himself, sifting through layers of skin until he found those old wounds. Then, like picking at a scab, he dug into them and pulled, unearthing the fiery pain from the night he died.

Glorfindel clenched his jaw in agony as the wounds raced across his skin as they did when they were first formed, the usual lingering ache bursting forth as the cruel whip marks of the Balrog's tail chased their way across his torso, the angry slashes of the beast's claws, and the deep gouge across his stomach all opening up. When he opened his eyes, he locked gazes with Elenya who slowly moved closer towards him. Her eyes flickered to his wounds and they filled with sorrow.

"You saved them all," Glorfindel whispered, his voice slightly hoarse as the burn scars traced down into his throat as well. "So many more would have died, would have suffered and burned if it weren't for you."

"But I didn't save you," her fingers touched one if his scars with a feather-light caress.

"Not that night... but you have so many other times since."

She had off, glassy look in her eyes as she pressed her entire palm to the gash across his stomach. Strangely her touch didn't hurt as it should've. Instead, it felt soothing, like cool water on a burn. Then, her hand began to glow. Glorfindel watched win fascination as white light enveloped his body, Elenya's eyes suddenly lighting up like twin stars as the light became brighter and enveloped both of them. Then he was forced to close his eyes against the glare as his entire body tingled with warmth.

As quickly as it started, it stopped. And, when Glorfindel opened his eyes, the pain and the scars were gone. His hands flew to the site of his old wound, but he found only clean flesh. There was no trace of pain, no lingering ache from his old scar. It was as if they had never happened. Not even the Valar had been able to restore him in such a fashion for the wounds were to his Fea. They should have only been capable of healing in Valinor, that kind of healing was meant to be impossible on this side of the sea.

"Elenya-" he began, but was cut off by an incredulous voice, two identical figures fresh off patrol walking towards them.

"What was that?!"

Erestor was reviewing the notes that he took during the meeting with Evelyn. Aside from her own story, she gave them a brief overview of the version of events that was supposed to happen according to the story from her world. Most had been on track with the Fellowship of nine individuals departing instead of Glorfindel guiding the Halfling, and much more were events that were destined to occur were on their journey with no outward assistance. The fact that Mithrandir was fated to die and then be re-born was a bit of a shock, but they currently had Yavanna's granddaughter with her pet giant wolf sparring on the training grounds so it really wasn't the strangest thing that he had heard. There was one note however that was quite bizarre.

Erestor found himself walking toward Lord Elrond's office, knocking firmly on the door.

"Come in, Erestor."

"My Lord... there's something strange in what Evelyn told us of what is yet to come."

"Hmmm?"

"This part here," he laid his sheet of notes down on the desk. "The Halflings Merry and Pippin are meant to travel to Fangorn forest where they are to speak with the 'Ents' and Mithrandir is to lead the 'Huorns' into battle in aide of the Rohirrim. Have you ever heard of such creatures?"

"Ents and Hurons..." Elrond looked puzzled. "Are they perhaps tribes of men?"

"If they are, I've never heard of any who go by such a name."

"Neither have I," Elrond moved to his bookshelf, scanning across the tomes. "The name is strange," he opened one of the tomes and flipped through several pages. "It seems to originate from the old language of the Edain in the Vales of Anduin... but those lands are largely occupied by the Rohirrim now."

"Any they're meant to come from the Fangorn forests. Do you know of any races that dwell there?"

"No..."