disclaimer: i do not own anything. nor am i affiliated with any references mentioned.

enjoy!

Chapter 16

-Fontanellato, Italy, Summer of July 1990-

The towering mantle sitting atop the fireplace, with an ancient sundial delicately placed on top continued to stared back as Alex inclined her neck even higher to gaze up at the painting of her grandfather. A broad man, with blonde hair and striking deep brown eyes. Sir William Edgar Townsend, died at the tender age of forty two after injuring his back after falling off his horse, leaving his wife a widow with only one heir—Garrett Townsend.

The life-like painting also stared back in its ominous size. Sir William's stare unwavering as his eyes gaze seem to follow no matter from what angle a spectator stared at. It was the summer of July, year nineteen ninety. His young granddaughter that her would never meet, studied his portrait with utmost curiosity.

"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you." Aemilia greeted her as she silently closed the heavy oak doors of the library with a soft click.

"Is that Grandpa, Nana?" All soft voice wafted over, her gaze still glued at the painting.

A pained expression crossed Aemilia's features as she studied her grand daughter's small frame staring slack jawed at William. Her gaze apologetic as she swept over his features. So many thoughts ran through her mind, things she wanted to think him and things she regretted having to be kept secret from him. "Yes."

"What's he like?"

A sob caught on the elderly woman's throat at the innocent question, "He was an honorable man."

"Mr. Smith said grandpa loved horses. Did he really?"

"Yes, he did." A ghost of a smile on the corner of her lips, for William truly loved the magnificent beasts.

"Sad. We would have gone horse riding together if he was here."

Another choked sob escaped Aemilia. Love indeed was magnanimous. In all its shape and form, Aemilia did love William. But that love could not rival in its intensity for her elven heart already belonged to another. She could punish herself a thousand times over for her decision, she would gladly give her self up if it meant saving her beloved from any pain but as she gazed at her grand daughter innocently studying William's portrait, she knew she would do it all over again. Welcome her punishment with open arms if it meant salvaging the most precious gift Eru has ever bestowed upon her.

Feeling a tug on her ironed pant, Aemilia gazed down at her grand daughter. Alex did inherit her father's dark hair, but had her mother's striking emerald eyes. Pulling her fallen bangs away from her face over her ear, Aemilia noted with relief that of all features Alex would have inherit, she did not possess the one feature that was a dead giveaway of her true lineage. "You still owe me a story." Mischievous green eyes looked up, a smirk playing on her plump lips making Aemilia smile.

"Oh, well… where was I?" Deciding to play along and forget all about her inner turmoil and proceeded to direct all her attention to her grand daughter.

"I think you were talking about elves! It was a nice change of story, the trolls gave me nightmares."

"Really?"

"Yup. Mama had to endure with me sleeping next to her for days. It was my fault she had little to no sleep at all during those moments."

Aemilia's heart broke for the little girl, "Well, I certainly wouldn't mind it if you slept next to me." Giving her grand daughter her most softest smile.

Moving to sit in one of the large chairs situated on the other end of the room, surrounded by tall shelves with rows and rows of books. Alex immediately went to one of the desks, pulling out a drawer and pulling out her sketch pad and crayons, she lied stomach facing down on the floor, just like she always does when she and her Grandmother would have the afternoons free of any engagement. "Elves, are considered the first and eldest children of the Iluvatar. They are considered the wisest and fairest of all beings."

"What's an Illutartar?"

"Ilu-vatar. His full name is Eru Iluvatar. Or The One. The single omniscient and omnipotent creator."

"Like God?"

"Yes." Aemilia had to hold back her laugh at the pure innocence of Alex, "He created the elves, the first born in Arda. Elves do not age and are immune to illness and famine. They, however, can be killed only in violence or extreme despair."

"That's sad. Are there different kinds of elves?"

"You could say that. Why do you ask?"

"I mean, there are elves in North Pole. You know those elves working in Santa's workshop? I haven't yet decided what I wanted for Christmas. Mama said I can only get a gift if I'm a good girl. Are those elves also children of ilumatar?"

Aemilia laughed, the sweet sound echoing off the quiet wooden walls of the library. "Ilu-vatar. I suppose so." Not wanting to disappoint her granddaughter.

During the summers of every year, Aemilia had looked forward to seeing Alex. The only living heir to the Townsend name would spend her summer months in Italy. And every year, Alex would stare wide eyed with fascination as her mind would replay the characters her Nana would recount.

"Nana, have you met a dwarf?"

"No. But I have heard of them."

"What are they like?"

"Well, they care nothing for the pickle of others, they hide in their mountains seeking riches."

"Like the ones in Snow White?" Another smile unbidden but welcomed nonetheless graced Aemilia's features, nodding her head to appease her curious grand daughter. "That's sad. I don't think dwarves are selfish."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, they took care of Snow White and they fought the wicked stepmother. I think dwarves are best kind of friends to have. Loyal and brave." Alex explained, her brows knitted in serious concentration.

"I guess that is one way of looking at it."

"Do the elves and dwarves like each other? In Arda?"

A sad contemplative emotion passed through Aemilia's eyes, her grand daughter too young to know what it was. It was a sad thought really that even in Arda, races cannot seem to get along. Differences divide long bound friendships and alliances and the divide between elves and dwarves had gotten substantial. "Well, there are differences between them, there is bound to be some misunderstandings."

"So they do hate each other? How did it start?"

"Well we have to start from the beginning, if you want to understand."

"Yes please, Nana!"

Smiling at Alex's excitement Aemilia proceeded to tell the story as best she knew. "There was once a great dwarf King who ruled one of the greatest kingdoms in Arda. This kingdom was the stronghold of the Dwarf King under the mountain, mightiest of all the dwarflords."

"He sounds scary."

Smiling but refusing to be deterred, Aemilia continued. "The Dwarf King ruled with utter surety, never doubting that his house would endure for his line lay secure in the lives of his son and grandson."

"A dwarf prince?" Alex asked with fascination as her eyes almost bugged out of their sockets.

"Hmm." Ameilia nodded her head, "You see in Arda, lands are divided among lords and Kings of different races."

"So there are more than one king? Are there any princesses maybe?"

"The Dwarf kingdom built deep within the mountain itself. The beauty of this fortress city was a legend. Its wealth lay in the earth, its precious gems hewn from rock and in great seams of gold running like rivers through stone. The skills of the dwarves was unequal, fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamonds, emerald, ruby and sapphire."

"The dwarves must have been really rich."

"The Dwarf King was so great that all paid homage to him. Even the Elven King." Aemila could not understand why but as she reached that part of the story her heart felt heavy and sad at the missed opportunities an alliance between elves and dwarves could have achieved, but sadly it only remained a mystery. "But sadly as the wealth of the dwarves grew, their store of goodwill ran thin."

"What happened?" Looking up from her sketch pad where an array of colors lay scattered over the pages. Images of a mountain in color red and tiny little stick people who must have been dwarves all strewn together.

"No one knows exactly what began the rift. The elves say the dwarves stole their treasure, the dwarves tell another tale—they say the Elf King refused to give them their rightful pay. It is sad how old alliances can be broken. How friendships between peoples can be lost."

Alex looked up, seeing her Nana engrossed in the story as her blue eyes turned misty and a faraway look crossing her features. "Slowly the days turned sour, the watchful nights closed in. The Dwarf King's love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had began to grow within him. It is the sickness of the mind and where sickness thrives, bad things will follow."

"I am not liking this story anymore, Nana." Alex eyes turned sad, but Aemilia was already too far down the rabbit hole to notice her grand daughter's plea.

"The first noise they heard was like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines in the mountains creaked and cracked. It was fire drake from the north—A dragon."

As soon as the fear crawled, so was it replaced with awe and amazement, "A dragon? What does the dragon want?"

"The dragon coveted gold as dark and fierce as desire. The once great dwarf kingdom was lost to the dragon's ire, for the dragon would guard his plunder for as long as he lived. In the midst of all the chaos and fire, the dwarf prince saw the elf King standing tall with the elven army, watching the massacre that had befallen the great dwarf kingdom. So hurt was the elf king that in retaliation, he extended no help to the suffering dwarves. The elf king would not risk the lives of his kin for the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the elves that day or any days since. Robbed of their homeland, the dwarves of the once mighty kingdom wandered the wilderness. The young dwarf prince took work in the nearby villages, taking work in the race of men. But always he'd remember the dragon's smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright. For he had seen dragon fire in the sky. Their once great kingdom turned to ash. He never forgave and he never forgot."

"That's too bad. I would not want to be an enemy of an elf." Alex said nonchalantly pulling Aemilia out of her thoughts and silently laughing the sheer randomness of her grand daughter's thoughts.

"I don't think you'll have a problem with elves, my dear." At Alex's questioning stare, Aemilia continued, "You are just too charming for your own good." Looking out the window and noticing the dark sky outside Aemilia moved to stand, holding her hand out for Alex to take. "Come on darling. Let's see if dinner is ready."

"Can I sleep beside you tonight?"

"Of course dear, afraid that a dragon might visit you in your dreams?" Aemilia smiled, earning her a giggle from the little girl.

Their dinner was uneventful. Stories of a brave lord elf who killed a balrog kept Alex at the edge of her seat. Old Franny, albeit experiencing pain every now and then had insisted that she was still healthy enough to be of service. A serving of roasted duck and healthy slice of Franny's chocolate cake, both Aemilia and Alex decided to retire early. It was there that Alex decided to explore her Nana's bedroom.

Aemilia sat on her large dresser, brushing her long hair as she spied Alex moving about her room. The little girl jumping from her bed to run across the expanse of the carpeted floor. Turning her attention back to the tall mirror before her, Aemilia spied silver strands peeking from under her raven head. The life of the Elder is slowly leaving her. The fading process has already began.

Grief and despair mingled in the depths of her azure eyes as she contemplated the thought that she may never get to see Imladris, her family or her love even for one last time.

"Nana, what is this?" Alex's voice pierced the silent room making Aemilia jump and face her grand daughter. In Alex's hand, she saw the locket. The trinket glittering under the dimmed yellow light of her room.

"It's a locket."

"What's a locket?" Ever the curious little bee, Aemilia stood to move to sit beside Alex on the grand bed. "A locket is a small ornamental case, typically made of silver or gold, worn around a person's neck on a chain that is used to hold a thing of sentimental value."

"What's inside?" Alex's eye widening as the prospect that a hidden surprise lay waiting.

Picking up the locket, Aemilia proceed to flick the lock on the side revealing two pictures.

"Hey, that's me!" Alex excitedly pointed out, her brows furrowing at the second picture. "Who is he Nana?"

"That's your father." Aemilia smiled sadly at the picture of Garrett.

"Papa?" Alex muttered, her eyes glued to the small picture her father she never met. "I've never seen a picture of him before. Mama never kept any pictures of him at home."

"Your father's death was so sudden. I think his memory is still too painful for your mother. Even after all these years." Aemilia answered. Despite the bad blood between her and her daughter in law, Aemilia understood the pain Elizabeth went through. Elizabeth never got over her guilt, despite Aemilia's efforts to assure her that it was not her fault.

"What was he like?" Alex asked, still studying the picture.

"Well, how about I give you two a proper introduction." Smiling mischievously as Aemilia stood, moving gracefully towards the hidden wardrobe at the back of the room. The widowed matriarch pulled an old photo album from it. Alex gasped in amazement at the sight. Quickly pushing out her chubby, short arms to pull to the memorabilia to her chest, she then proceed to flip the first page. "Is that me?" Alex laughed, gazing at the picture of her from when she was still a babe. Small tuffs of curly black hair framed her chubby face, her eyes wide, gazing at the camera.

"Who else could it be?" Aemilia amusedly played along, pointing one slender index finger on the second picture, where a man stood tall, by the window. His arms wrapped around a small bundle as he gazed lovingly into it. His dark hair falling to his shoulders, framing his face. "And that is your father. He loved you more than anything in this world." Turning swiftly as her sharp eyes immediately seeing the uncanny resemblance her son has of his father, wiping a stray tear that had escaped.

Pictures after pictures gazed back at them. As Alex's growth was observed up to the time before her father's accident. Pictures of Garret with Alex outside in the balcony, with Alex on her father's chest as they both fell asleep by the hay in the stables where he was trying to show around the horses. A crawling Alex as she was captured mid crawl on the picnic mat laid out on the grass. And the last pic, of both of them lying down on a bed, their heads side by side, the angle was of them staring into the ceiling straight into the camera lens, the flash making their eye color even more distinct and vivid. Her's a striking emerald green and her father's a captivating silver grey.

-Imladris, Third Age year 2928-

At last, at long last, they were ready. They all moved quietly out of the postern gate. They would have to work their way around to the east through the woods, which would take time. Glorfindel looked anxiously at the sky, but there was not even a hint of morning grayness. The woods were full of night life, and they slipped quietly through, trying not to cause a disturbance that might alert their quarry. Glorfindel was sure it was growing lighter and whispered so to Elladan.

"We have at least an hour, Lord Elladan." His eyes might be growing accustomed, but his body wasn't. There seemed to be a limit to how long he could hold the power, and it was leaching away, leaving only fear. The feeling of foreboding and something foul awaiting at the distance. They could sense it.

Sweet Eru, what would they find when they got to the camp?

He was assailed with visions of Elrohir bleeding, bruised, perhaps already dying of splintered bones. Images of the same mangled party, of dead elves and littering the road between Lothlorien and Imaldris assaulted his senses. The mangled corpse of Lady Celebrian etched onto his mind as they scoured the terrain for survivors—finding none alive, and with Aemilia still missing.

Three hundred and twenty eight years since she had disappeared,

Shaking his head to rid his mind of the images, the time finally came when him and his three elven soldiers would have to part from the larger force, so as to appear to be coming from the west.

Checking the sky one more time before heading out of the woods, down the open slope. This was the time when they were most likely to be seen, but the approach of morning was bringing a hint of concealing mist. Then they began to climb again, heading toward where he thought the camp must be. Now the mist was a hazard. They could miss entirely. A sharp whistle from the left. They headed toward it and found one of Elladan's men peering at them in the gloom.

"What's going on?"

This was the tricky part. It would be more logical for one of the elves to speak, but their voices would give them away. "They have Elrohir trapped," said Glorfindel angrily. "That's what. They have have set up an ambush, expecting we are going to walk right into it."

"That right?" asked the elf, his fear at angering the Lord elf clear in his tone, the rest of the elves grunted in agreement.

"Don't expect much of them," Elladan sneered. "They're too busy fighting each other for food, they will not see us coming." The other elven soldier moved nearer, eyes glittering. "Let's see then . . ."

With a start, Elladan recognized the voice of the elf who had just been nearly scolded at by Glorfindel, and almost broke into nervous giggles. Instead he plunged ahead to the camp, his men following. A quick glance showed him Glorfindel's moving too at the other side of the camp. He was trying to keep an eye out behind as well.

They stepped into the camp. There was a small, carefully shielded fire and it gave just enough light for them to see orcs sitting around, and Elladan by the tree still guarded by the four club-wielding orcs. He was slumped.

By the Valar, don't let him be unconscious.

The orc carrying the raw meat from one of the murdered horses, let one mangled leg drop. It spun, the blood splattering on the dirt, near the fire. The second orc tripped, and his own sack of horse meat spilled. The third clutched his part of the carcass like a true niggard. For a moment, no one moved, then one of orcs moved to pick up a piece.

Another orc moved.

Then another.

In moments a madness took them. But the four orcs by Elrohir didn't move. They twitched. They yearned. Glorfindel could almost see their need to scramble for some of that meat, but they stayed by Elrohir.

The head orc spun on the last of his party. "Give me that leg, you swine. I am your commander I get the best part of the meat. You shan't have it!" Pulling it out of the orc's suddenly lax grasp and it spilled, toward the guards. Delicious fresh meat sparkled through the air toward them. The orc scrambled after them, wailing. They lunged to get there ahead of him.

Elladan and his men stormed in. One man was cutting Elrohir's bonds before Elladan got there, but Elrohir was hardly free before a guard realized what was happening and swung viciously with his club. Elrohir twisted and caught it awkwardly on the back of his shoulder, falling to his knees. After hours of bondage he lacked his natural, fluid grace and Elladan feared that blow must have done damage. He ran forward to defend him, pulling out his blade. The guard swung again, this time going for the ribs. Glorfindel and his men were all around, surprising the band of orcs on the other side of the camp.

He plunged his long knife to the unguarded side of the orc's neck. He screamed and arched as blood fountained out onto him. Elrohir staggered to his feet before the orc could hit the ground. "Truly a baptism of blood, my lord Glorfindel!" he said with a shaky laugh.

Elladan ran by, laughing, and tossed Elrohir a sword. "About time, brother dearest!" He caught it left-handed, but awkwardly. Just how badly injured was his shoulder? He made no move to join the fight, but stood flexing his body carefully to overcome the stiffness. As the fighting dwindled, stretch more thoroughly, working his damaged body as best he could. He said just one word.

"Scouts?" His tone indicating at the disbelief that orc scouts would dare venture so close to Rivendell. The dark forces are growing bolder every day.

The sky was definitely beginning to lighten. "We set some soldiers to guard the way." Those of orcs not defeated were realizing that they had no chance, and were surrendering. Elladan's men were efficiently disarming and binding them. Planning a thorough interrogation for later. The thirst for revenge still lingering in their veins as Elladan and Elrohir brought torches and now lit them from the fire to light the scene of carnage.

For Mother and Aemilia.

Glorfindel walked forward, while Elrohir came over. "Your deranged plan worked after all, mellon." His joy at his friend's safety rang through the prosaic words.

"Greed works every time." There was something flat in Elrohir's voice that made them both look at him.

Glorfindel peered into the dense wispy grayness at the base of the cliff, but it was impossible to tell what was happening there. The activity in the camp blocked out more distant noises. They began to descend the slope. Elladan stayed anxiously at Elrohir's side, Glorfindel just one step behind. Some of the soldiers brought torches, creating pearly pools of light. "That was a nasty blow on the shoulder," Elladan said. Elrohir ignored him. "Is something wrong with your leg?"

"Mere stiffness."

"You seem to have some stiffness in your sword arm, too." Elrohir ignored that, as well. "He has an arrow wound in it," Glorfindel commented.

"Brother..." Elladan protested.

"Lord Elrond will see to it." It was all Glorfindel who answered. The sort of command no one ever disobeyed. Although silently he prayed that Elladan would knock his brother out before he went on with his madness. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to occur to him now.

The captured force eyed them viciously as they made their way to where their real camp was situated, he cursed viciously and gurgled. "I'll have my orcs' guts around their necks."

"They tried," said Glorfindel almost sweetly.

The orc straightened. "Well, your grace. What now?"

"Now I kill you. You deserve to die for your many sins, but you will die for touching my wife."

The orc laughed. "Still holding onto that grudge? I was not involved in that raid, but I had a mind in it! If I had been, I would have done more than touch her! Has she told you what happened up there? Of course not. She is still missing." Spitting the last of his sentence with unbridled satisfaction.

Glorfindel's hand gripped his sword with cold fury, "Shield." The one-word order immediately brought him a kite shield. "And for him." More reluctantly, one was passed to the grinning orc.

Elladan took some comfort from the fact that it could not possibly cover his bulk. Elladan pulled Glorfindel back a little, and he allowed it. "This is madness," he hissed. "Cut him down already. He deserves it."

"I promised her empty grave I'd kill him whoever was responsible," he said quietly, flexing his shoulder.

"Then use a bow, make it swift!"

"No. He must die by my hand." Elladan wanted to hit him. "You're in no state of mind, Glorfindel! You are blinded by rage and no reason." Elrohir protested this time.

His hand covered his mouth, and not gently. His eyes were almost cold with the killing fury that possessed him. "You will be silent," he said. "You will stand here where it is safe, and watch in silence as a good brothers at arms should."

"And what are we supposed to do if you lose?" He shook his head.

"Your confidence in me in comforting." The twins watched him stalk away, filled with exasperation.

If they thought they had any chance of accomplishing to tame Glorfindel, they would order their men to tie him back up to a tree while they hang the repulsive orc themself.

But, soldiers would never obey.

The idea then came to Elrohir. It terrified him. But these past years since his mother and sister's death he'd done so many things that terrified him that one more hardly seemed to matter. Before he lost her nerve, Elrohir picked up a fist-sized rock and swung it hard at their Captain's unprotected head. He'd not wanted to kill him and he thought for an awful moment that he'd not hit hard enough.

Glorfindel staggered and turned, rage blazing in his silver eyes. Then he crumpled at their feet.

"Oh my dear brother," Elladan commented, shock and fear mingling in his face, "I must say, you are a dead elf walking." Flicking his wrist as a soldier moved to slit the orc's throat, while the other captives stood watch in horror as they were pulled. Their road leading them back to Imladris.

Ignoring the throbbing spot behind his head, Glorfindel offered a glare towards Elrohir who remained calm and collected as he trotted his horse beside Imladris' Captain of the guards.

"Brave, I'll give you that."

"Oh come on Glorfindel. I saved you back there. What would adar think if he found out that you almost got blinded by rage?"

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes—a habit he got from Aemilia—he continued to trot ahead. Already seeing the raging waterfall that framed Rivendell. His gaze already the lone figure standing by the steps leading to the elven realm, Lindir.

"Mae govanenn, my lords." Lindir greeted, his brow raising in question and confusion at Glorfindel's aggrieved expression.

"Ah Lindir! So nice to see you again." Elladan greeted enthusiastically, swinging his leg as he jumped from his horse, handing the reins to a squire in waiting.

"Yes, my lord. It was a quiet few days while you three went…hunting."

"And it was a good hunt." Elrohir added, his eyes twinkling his eyes sweeping over the gates trying to spot either his father or his sister. "Where is adar?"

Suddenly an unsure expression crossed the elf's face as he regarded the three of them, "Lord Elrond is otherwise engaged." Clearing his throat as he contemplated on how to proceed with the news. Feeling uneasy as he felt Glorfindel's silent scrutiny, his silver eyes not missing anything as it squinted over Lindir.

"Well, I guess we'll see him at super then—"

"Lord Elrond, requests your audience at once. All three of you." Glorfindel raised one golden brow at the request.

"What about Arwen?" Elladan's question floating in the sudden silence.

"Lady Arwen is already with him, since this morning." Moving to stand aside as his arm gestured towards the entry of Rivendell, "If you please."

Walking briskly and purposefully along the tall halls of the Imladris proved to be taxiing as the four of them, lead by Lindir, maneuvered their way along the winding halls and stairs. Still in their armory from that morning, the trio spotted excited voices coming out from Lord Elrond's library.

Laughter, light and bubbly accompanied by hushed voices they could identify as Elrond's and Arwen's continued to mock them from the other side.

"Is he in council with someone, Lindir?" Elladan asked, his brow furrowing in confusion at the hurried way in which they were summoned.

Not bothering to answered but instead opting to pull the double wooden door, the three elven warrior chose that moment to see for themselves what the commotion was all about.

Elrond was sitting on the stool, Arwen in the floor beside a mortal child. All three engrossed on what the mortal child was doing—drawing. An odd attire was adorning the girl's thin frame, and a fluffy looking animal, small but menacing stood growling at them. "Lily, hush." the child scolded the furry animal.

"A mortal child? Adar, what on Arda is going on?" Elrohir snapped, garnering the shocked expression of the three.

Elladan stood staring his eyes studying the little girl beside his sister. Hair was the same as theirs, her complexion a creamy pale. But it was her eyes that captivated him, "I cannot be…" his breath leaving him at the stunning resemblance the child had with his deceased sister.

"Aemilia?" Elrohir stood frozen as he too was captivated by the child's curious stare.

But her eyes were not on the twin elves that stood before her, their eyes questioning as they followed her every move. The room became quiet, no sound was heard among the stunned occupants and Elrond and Arwen watched with bated breath as Alex moved closer to the one person who had yet to make a sound.

Alex's eyes held the golden elf's gaze. The only one among the group who had notable blonde hair, even striking than her friend—Legolas'. The elf before was tall, his stance sure and straight, he was fair and looked young, his hair like shining liquid gold. But his eyes!

Alex could have sworn she only knew one other person who had the same eyes as his. But it's impossible! How many times had she stolen her Nana's photo album, how many times had she studied her father's features. This elf could not be him, her father had dark hair, the nose, lips, cheekbones, an artist's eyes made an account of his features all ghostly and eerily familiar to that of her deceased father—but his eyes—oh his eyes held her. A flicker of familiarity seemed to spark within her and for a moment she felt the sudden rush of tears for a father she so desperately wanted to meet.

"Hello," like his voice was caught in his throat, Glorfindel continued to stare back, His heart beating rapidly in his chest. The girl looked so much like his lost wife. A ghost, the Valar must have sent to torment him. A punishment for placing his duty for his title above his duty for his mate. Bending down on his knees, dropping his blades with a clang on the marble floor, Glorfindel continued to stare. Even Aemilia's habit of inclining her neck where she's curious and the uncanny twitch of her eyes when she's concentrating was visible on the child's face.

"His name is Glorfindel, anel nin." Elrond's soft voice wafted through the silence, the endearment not lost on the twins and especially not on Glorfindel. "Alex?"

Without a thought, Alex flung herself to the elf. His arms folding in around her as he felt the strong feeling of connection, blood rushing in his ears and his heart continued its beating. Raising his red rimmed eyes blurred with unshed tears, he saw Arwen silently observing them, in her own face tears flowed freely a small smile gracing her fair face., with Elrond fairing no better. The emotions unbidden rushed out of Alex. Her small arms going around his neck as she latched on, feeling for the first time of being home and completely safe, she whispered the one word that brought the entire world of their audience to a stand still. "Papa?"

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AN: yey! who guessed about glorfindel? raise your hands... *smiles widely*

next chapter will be up in a few days, this one is twenty nine pages long-full of twists and turns. *wink*wink*