A TALE OF NEVER-ENDING LOVE
THE COMPLETE STORY OF GLORFINDEL
told by Soledad Cartwright
Disclaimer: see Introduction
Rating: PG for now, but might go higher in later chapters, for violence, character death and heavy angst stuff.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Sorry for the delay, but this part needed a lot of consideration - plus I have to work for a living every time and again. This is the disadvantage of being an adult.
Anyway, now we get to witness the awakening of the Elves, and there will be a few surprises that are *not* in the canon, though to my best knowledge they don't contradict established canon facts, either. If there is anywhere in the 12 tomes of The History of Middle-earth half a footnote that tells any unimportant details differently, I'm sorry, but I still will stuck with my own interpretation. This is a work of fiction and not a scientific thesis, after all, though I try to follow the canon as well as I can.
There are some lines waved in from Chapter 3 of The Silmarillion: Of the Coming of the Elves. They are integrated in the dialogues, so I won't give individually which line it is, because I don't want the footnotes be longer than the story itself - you'll find out yourself, from the style no-one can reproduce.
I also placed here a few hints that will be unfolded in greater detail in later stories (if I ever come to write them, they'll be titled ''Kortirion Under the Trees'', which would be the 10th Boromir story, and ''The Trials of a Woodland King'', which will be focussing on Thranduil - unless I find a better title for it, which I greatly hope).
Also, for this part I have a soundtrack suggestion. I was listening to the album ''Watermark'' of Enya while writing this part.
CHAPTER ONE: AWAKENING UNDER THE STARS
PART TWO: THE COMING OF THE ELVES
The eve of Elenya1 finally arrived, and the Lady Aquiel, who was called Lalaith by the Elves of Imladris, went to the Hall of Fire to make preparations for the coming long night of storytelling. Her heart trembled with joyous anticipation, for though she had studied the lore of her people all her life, never had she had the chance to hear the tale of Awakening from someone who, in truth, was among the Fristborn to open his eyes for the newborn starlight - even though she was born in the Second Age and as a young child had the rare chance to see Gil-galad, last High King of the Noldor, with her own eyes; something that very few of her generation could say from themselves.
But Aquiel Lalaith was the daughter of Aglareth,2 the sister of Gildor Inglorion, and she had been Glorfindel's student from her early childhood on. Born on the day of Yén, the Elven New Year that comes only once in a century, she was gifted by the Lady with great wisdom and an eagerness to learn, uncommon even among Elves. Her father slain in the Battle upon Dagorlad and her mother faded away from grief, Gildor became her guardian and sent her to Imladris where she would be safe and cared for.
So she was brought up with Elrond's children - though they were considerably younger than her - and under the motherly care of Celebrían, and was taught not only by Glorfindel but by Elrond himself, and even by the Lady and Lord of the Golden Wood, for she often visited Lothlórien with Arwen, and she was considered part of their family.
When Elrohir fell in love with her, and she found that she, too, loved him, Elrond gladly gave his blessing, even though his younger son barely reached maturity at that time. Yet they decided to wait with their vows till Aquiel finished her studies and became a Master of lore herself, for she needed to stay focussed for that, which she could not have been while nurturing children. And Elrond and Celebrían agreed with this decision, for Elrohir was, indeed, much too young for a bond that could not be broken again - and they had all the time of the world, after all.
But then the shadows grew darker again, and Celebrían was waylaid upon the Redhorn Pass and captured and tortured and finally departed over Sea, not being able to find any beauty or joy in Middle-earth any more. Grief and despair filled Elrond's home, and though Elrond himself had been healed thank the love of the Prince of Mirkwood, his sons became obsessed with Orc-hunting and were far from home for years. The great feast of Yén, the feast of bonding, came and found Elrohir absent, and the long-planned wedding failed to come about.
This hit Aquiel very hard, yet she was proud enough and strong enough not to show it; and she never mentioned their plans to Elrohir again, hoping that he would overcome his grief and come back to himself; for in the measure of their Kin they vere still young. When nothing changed, she spoke to Glorfindel about it, and though she kept her high spirits, at least outwards, she became strangely detached from the affairs of Elrond's house and turned to ancient lore for comfort, and she knew that her tutor was worried.
She had almost given up hope that Elrond's sons would ever care for anything else but their vengeance, yet Elladan's suddenly inflamed passion for a mortal Man made her think again. If Elladan could have found his way back to life, mayhap his twin would find it, too. Mayhap now, that the family drew closer again after so many years, they shall be able to straight things out between them, her and Elrohir, she thought. For though she cheerished their long friendship, this was not the promise she had been given, and she grew tired of waiting.
Approaching the Hall of Fire through the back door, carrying the wine for the evening, she heard with surprise that somebody had preceeded her. The quiet, angry voices belonged to Elrond's sons, who very cleary were in the middle of one of their rare but bitter fights. She stealthed nearer, curious, though she could guess what they were fighting about. Ever since Elladan had made his choice, his brother had been irate and hard to bear, and Aquiel was worried that things between the twins may go truly wrong this time. For though it did not happen oft, when they fought, it could be very hurtful.
''I have spoken with father about your decision'', the younger twin said in a low, pain-loaded voice.
''I thought you would'', Elladan replied ruefully. ''It hit him too hard to bear it alone, and with Legolas gone and Arwen distracted by her own worries, he needed someone else to share his pain.''
''Small wonder'', Elrohir commented drily. ''He was devastated already by Arwen's choice, but yours...''
''*What* about my choice?'' Elladan asked, his eyes cold like ice. ''Is it less honourable than Arwen's just because Boromir has not been brought up in this house? Or is he not worthy of my love because he is not of the blood of Elros? What makes Estel better than him? He is a good Man, a Man of pride and honour, who has made great sacrifices to fulfill his duty towards his land and his people, and I love him for that.''
''But he does not love you'', said Elrohir, and Aquiel winced from this curelty; the last thing Elladan needed in his grief was someone reminding him that his love was unrequited.
Yet, strangely, Elrond's eldest did not seem to be hurt from his brother's careless remark.
''He does... in his own way'', he said with a shrug.
''And that is enough for you to give up the grace of your life?'', Elrohir fumed. ''For a few morsels of affection you would accept the Doom of Men without a second thought? What about the promise you gave *me*? Have you not promised that we would make our choice together? That our paths would never part?''
''You do not understand'', sighed Elladan, and suddenly he looked very tired. ''I did not know love back then. Yet now... I could not bear eternal life without him. I cannot carry this loss 'till the end of Arda.''
This answer, it seemed, made Elrohir even more furious, but ere he could have found some really hurtful reply that he would, no doubt, deeply regret afterwards, Aquiel stepped between them, put her load down on the table and gave the younger twin a cold, hard look of disapproval.
''Say naught, Elrohir, or I shall remind you of other promises given and broken.''
Elrohir, surprised by her intervention, looked at her in askance.
''I know not what you mean, Lady Lalaith.''
''Truly?'' Aquiel arched a fine eyebrow and raised her left hand with the silver ring of betrothal on the index finger. ''How many times has Yén come and passed since we exchanged the rings of promise? And where have you been at those times? Is your given word of so little weight that five hundred years were not long enough for you to fulfill your oath?''
Elrohir tried to answer but Aquiel silenced him again with a stern gesture.
''Be quiet. I wish not to argue with you. I only tell you this, Elrohir Elrondion: I shall not wait for you any longer. Either you make up your mind till next Yén, or I shall end this fruitless bond and go to the Havens. For I am a daughter of Finrod's House, not your chambermaid, and I have endured your selfishness long enough.''
With that, she turned sharply and left the Hall, driven with long-surpressed anger - but also filled with grim satisfaction. She had delayed this decision much too long, hoping that Elrohir would come to his senses. Now she had enough and was not willing to bear his indecision any longer.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The air still was a little tense between the members of Elrond's extended family when they gathered around the great hearth again, shortly after sunset. They sat in uncomfortable silence, for Elladan and Elrohir were still not speaking to each other, and the Lady Aquiel was cold and distant to everyone, and Arwen's heart was heavy with anguish. Elrond silently asked himself, what might have happened between them, making a decision to ask each and every one of them later - and alone.
All were relieved when Glorfindel finally arrived and took his seat across Elrond's at the other end of the table. The ancient Elf took a lok around and his brows knitted slightly, noticing the tension, but he said nothing.
''So, Master Glorfindel'', said Elrond, yet his smile was forced, ''now we shall learn the secrets you withheld from us last time, I hope?''
''All in good time, my Lord'', answered Glorfindel slowly, his wise, ancient eyes watching the tired faces of the young Elves closely. ''I have spent the last few days in waking dreams to find my path back to the beginnings, so do not rush me, I pray you. Now. Where should I set on? Is there aught you would like to hear of, more than other things?''
It was Arwen again who spoke first, for she had harboured thoughts about non-life longer than either of her brothers.
''Do you... do you remember aught from *before*?'', she asked quietly. ''Before you opened your eyes for the newborn stars? What was it like... the Sleep of Ilúvatar?''
''I have but little memories of the time before the Awakening'', Glorfindel replied thoughtfully, eyes focussing inwardly again, ''yet I believe it had to be like a deep slumber for mortals - or the time of an unborn child in the womb. For unborn we were, indeed, and I know not, nor did the others ever, how we had taken on our forms, awakening as you can see me now.''
''Did you dream?'' Arwen asked. Glorfindel shook his head.
''If I did, I do not remember it. There was no light in the Sleep, therefore there were no colours, no sight... only the slow murmur of the waters and darkness. It was very peaceful, and in that darkness, there was no fear yet. No-one knows, not even the Valar themselves, save perhaps Manwë, to whom the secret thoughts of Ilúvatar are revealed in all matters that concern this world, how long we had slept at the dark waters of Cuiviénen.
Then, at one time - for day and night were not yet born - the murmurs of the waters changed, for the starlight touched their dark surface, and their song grew in strength and sweetness and beauty, and it woke a longing in our sleeping hearts; a longing that could not be denied. And so our eyes opened on their own, and we saw the sparkling silver flames upon the deep dark velvet of the skies; and the dark Waters of Awakening mirrored their light on their shining surface a thousand times, and it was a beauty so great that our hearts could barely bear it.
'Ele! (Behold!)', cried one of us - the first one whose eyes were opened, and this was the first word ever spoken among the Firstborn; and much later, when we formed our first tongue, that was named afterwards Ilkorin by the lore-masters, from this cry of the oldest and fatherless the ancient words of 'él' and 'elen', the oldest names for the stars, came; and also 'elda' and 'elena', which mean 'of the stars'.
But I am getting ahead of myself. As I said, when our eyes were opened, the first thing we saw was the beauty of the stars; and long did we lay there, admiring this great beauty, and we wept from the sheer joy of it, for at that time tears had naught to do with sorrow. Not yet.
Then, after our hearts calmed down a little, we looked around and beheld each other for the first time, and our awe was great, for though of the same Kin, we still were very different in shapes and colours. Some lay alone upon their beds of grass and moss, yet others in pairs, like two peas in one pod - the way, later twins lay in the womb of their mother.
As I turned to my side, I saw that I, too, was given a twin of my own, and my heart filled with great joy, for she was lovely beyond measure, her beauty second only to the newborn stars. Her long, pale hair rippled down her shoulders like falling water in the starligt; her gown was green, green as young weeds, shot with silver-like beads of dew; and her belt was of gold, shaped like a chain of flag-lilies set with the pale blue eyes of forget-me-nots3. Her eyes were clear, but dark like the sky above us, and her voice like a silver bell. And I loved my fair sister from the first moment on and called her Tindómerel, 'daughter of the twilight'; and she laughed upon seeing me, and touched my hair and gave me the name I am still wearing4.''
Glorfindel trailed off, his mind still wandering the dark fields of a past long gone. The younger Elves were silent for awhile, waiting for him to continue. When he did not, the eyes turned to Elrond, and the Master of the House asked:
''What happened to her? Last time you hinted that she still dwells out there somewhere.''
''She does'', Glorfindel sighed, returning to the present, ''yet she wears the name I once gave her no more; and she is lost for me, for ever.''
Elrond frowned; Glorfindel's tale was getting more and more confusing.
''How come...?''
''I shall come to *that* part of the tale, too'', Glorfindel promised, ''so bear with me a little longer, I pray you. 'Tis not easy for me to remember, for it had been so long ago, and to Cuiviénen there is no returning, for in the changes of the world the shapes of lands and of seas have been broken and remade; rivers have not kept their course, neither have mountains remained steadfast; and the womb of Arda that carried us during the Sleep is gone, for ever.''
He paused again, and a great sadness clouded his beautiful, ageless face upon the thought that he would never see the mystical place of his birth again. For someone who had no parents, it was even more bitter than for other people.
''Where had it been?'' Elladan asked quietly; never had he cared too much for ancient lore, yet the painful longing of his tutor touched his heart.
Glorfindel sighed and gave him a small smile.
''It lay far off in the east of Middle-earth, and northward'', he said, ''and it was a bay in the Inland Sea of Helcar; and that sea stood where aforetime the roots of Illuin had been before Melkor overthrew it.''
His eyes focussed inwards again, and his face shone with the silent joy of blissful memories as he added:
''Many waters flowed down thither from heights in the east, and the first sound that was heard by the Firstborn was the sound of water flowing, and the sound of water falling over stone.''
He shook his head sadly, for though he had lived many thousands of years and heard the music of Valinor, nothing had ever sounded so beautiful for his heart as the singing and murmuring waters of Cuiviénen.
''Long we dwelt in our first home, by the water under stars'', he finally continued; ''and we walked the Earth in wonder, to learn all living things that thrive upon it. And we began to make speech and to give names to all things that we saw and learnt. Ourselves we named the Quendi, 'those who speak with voices'; for as yet we had met no other living things that spoke or sang. Some of us found great liking in each other and formed a bond that could not be broken, and we spread out further and further over Middle-earth.
In the beginning, the Elder Children of Ilúvatar were stronger and greater than they have since become; but not more fair, for though the beauty of the Quendi in the days of their youth was beyond all other beauty that Ilúvatar had caused to be, it has not perished, but lives in the West, and sorrow and wisdom have aided it. Every one who has ever met the Vanyar, the gold-haired Elves of the First Kind, know what I am talking about - and their fairness still shines in Middle-earth in the Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood.
Yet it was those of the Third Kind, who later were called the Teleri, who walked out along the waters, following them through the great forests eastwards of the Misty Mountains; and some even settled down under the trees and built a great city upon the hill of Amon Lanc5, as it was called later: a city of white stone but moreso of great elm trees that grew through the houses, and springs that flew along the streets, and other wonders only seen in the cities of the Blessed Realm later. There they dwelt, with birds and good beasts, and they became separate from the rest of us.
Yet our life was not without fear any more. For Morgoth, the Dark Enemy, was already aware of our Awakening, and sent shadows and evil spirits to spy upon us and waylay us. So it came to pass that if any of us strayed far abroad - mostly to visit the beautiful city of Kortirion in the great woods -, alone or a few together, they would often wanish and never return; and some of us whispered that the Hunter caught them, and from that time on, we were afraid of shadows.
And indeed, our most ancient songs, of which echoes are remembered still in the West, and among the Silvan folk who do not forget, tell of the shadow-shapes that walked the hills above Cuiviénien, or would pass suddenly over the stars; and of a Dark Rider upon his wild horse that pursued those that wandered to take them and devour them.
Only one among us knew no fear: Iarwan, who had been the first to open his eyes and behold the starlight. And the newborn light dwelt in his dark eyes for ever, as if he would have had stars in his very eyes; and all loved him, for he was tall and slender and very beautiful with his thick brown hair and fair face; and there was a charm in his voice that could enchant trees and beasts alike. His songs held a power no-one could resist, not even our own Kin.
And more than all others did Tindómerel love him, my beloved sister, she who had the might to make the rain fall and had a spell over all the flowing and falling waters of Cuiviénien; and she was called River-daughter for this. And Iarwan, too, found a liking in her, and the two of them forged a bond, stronger than any other bond that had been forged among our Kin; and Tindómerel was the first to bring forth a new life to our people, out of her own body: a daughter of great beauty, whose hair was the colour of silver starlight and whose eyes were deep emerald green like the forests; and she, too, was called Tindómerel, after her mother.
Dearly did my sister love this precious child, and she brought her to Kortirion, for she was afraid of the dark beings that haunted Cuiviénien and wanted her child to grow up in safety. But Iarwan went not with them, for he could not leave the place of our birth; for he was the oldest of us and his roots in the Earth were very deep, indeed.
Yet one day he felt great longing after his beloved and their child and he decided to visit them in that fair city. We begged him to stay, for at that time the Hunter was preying around our dwellings frequently, but he only laughed merrily and left anyway. We never saw him again.''
There was a long silece; then the Lady Aquiel asked:
''Had he been... taken? What happened to him?''
''Little is known of a cetainty of those unhappy ones who were ensnared by Morgoth'', Glorfindel replied sadly. ''For who of the living had ever descended into the pits of Utumno, or had looked into the darkness of Morgoth's counsels? Yet this is held true by the wise of Eressëa, that all those of the Quendi who came into the hands of Morgoth ere Utumno was broken, were put there in prison, and by slow arts of cruelty and dark sorcery were corrupted and enslaved; and thus did Morgoth breed the hideous race of the Orcs, in envy and mockery of the Elves; and afterwards they became our bitterest foes.''
''Is there then no truth at all in the old legends that say the Orcs were bred in earth and formed of hot mud?'', Aquiel asked. Glorfindel shook his head.
''Naught that had life of its own could ever Morgoth make since his rebellion before the Beginning; so say the wise of Valinor. The life of Orcs is stolen from our own Kin; yet they became a mortal race, due to the horrors they went through in the dark pits of Utumno; and because their ties of origin were severed. And deep in their darkened hearts the Orcs loathed their Master, the maker of their misery, whom they served in fear. This may be was the vilest deed of Morgoth, and the most hateful to Ilúvatar.''
The younger Elves nodded in agreement; the tale of the Orcs was a well-known one among their Kin, one that always filled their hearts with sorrow, even though the Orcs of the Third Age were far different fromt heir Elvish ancestors and had long forgotten about their origins during the uncounted generations that were born and slain since the Elder Days.
Naught but monsters they had become along that endless chain of birth and death; yet the Elves still grieved their fate, even if they were forced to kill them in order to save themselves. Great hatred was now between the estranged kins, one born of the cruelty and the vile of the Enemy - for only those wo are in their deepest core very much alike could hate each other with such profound embitterment.
The Orcs hated the Elves for what they had lost and could never become again: for their beauty, wisdom and immortality. The Elves hated the Orcs for what they might become, would have fate been less merciful to them. Deep was their hatred towards each other, deeper than the bottomless depths of the Sea; for it was born of fear - a fear that had rooted in their hearts ever since the Awakening.
''Is it still possible.. could Elves still be crippled and corrupted enough to make them Orcs?'', Elladan asked after a while.
''With the arts and skills that Sauron possesses now, it cannot be made'', Glorfindel said. ''But should he ever get the One Ring back... I fear that it would be possible. For the One was made with the dark arts that Sauron learnt while he dwelt in Morgoths mighty shadow, and much of the power that had been wrought into it was lent from Morgoth himself. Should the Ring-bearer fail, we would better cut our throats by our own hand, for it would be a fate much less cruel.''
They were silent again, for a length at time. Then Elrond shifted in his seat and asked:
''You still have not told us what became of Iarwan. Was he truly taken?''
''He was'', Glorfindel sighed, ''and great was Morgoth's excitement to lay his black hands on him to torture him; for he hoped to turn him into a monster of outstanding cruelty, for he was the first, fairest and strongest of us all. Yet the Enemy had not counted with the strength of his will and with his sharp wit.
Indeed, Iarwan peered into the twisted mind of Morgoth and many of the Enemy's secrets were laid open for him; and he learnt enough to escape from Utumno - and 'tis said that he was the only one who ever succeeded. Yet so dark and evil it was what he seen, that his mind could not bear it. He became as a small child, merry and innocent, yet he forgot who he was, whom he belonged to, and walked off into the wilderness without memories.''
''And that was the end of him?'', Elrohir asked, disappointment clearly written upon his face.
''Nay'', smiled Glorfindel, ''that was not the end of him. For the winds and the waters bore tidings to my sister wo dwelt in Kortirion still, that the oldest and fatherless fled Morgoth's dungeon, and she entrusted little Tindómerel the Quendi of that city, who were led by Ellon6, the brother of Elwë and Olwë, and she went westwards to find her beloved.
And find him she did, indeed, in the great wilderness whose last remnants are called the Old Forest in these days; but his beauty was gone - his body deformed and his mind broken -, and he did not remember her or their love for each other, nor did he remember their fair little daughter, the first child ever born to our Kin. Yet my sister loved him still and remained with him, and they made a home for themselves, deep in the forest, forgotten by all, even by te Enemy.
In that timeless peace Iarwan finally healed to a certain extent, and though he never remembered his true self again, much of his strength of old was revived. Small is his realm in the Old Forest, where they still dwell, yet between its borders no other lord has power over them. Iarwan has the power over the trees and my sister, whom he still calls River-daughter, for this is the only thing he could remember about her, has power over the waters, and she still can make the rain fall at will. A very simple life it is they lead, that of the Silvan folk not unlike, but at least they are undisturbed - and, I think, they are happy.''
''Did you ever see her again?'' Arwen asked. Glorfindel nodded.
''A few times, when I had to take a shortcut through the Old Forest, for one reason or another. She still looks as young and beautiful as in the hour when I first laid eyes upon her. But the grief over Iarwan and the hardness of her long search after him had not left her mind uneffected, either. Though fair and kind and friendly she is to all those who knock on her door, and her power seems unlimited, she does not remember, either, where she came from, who she once was; nor can she remember me and that I am her brother.''
''What a cruel fate!'', Arwen murmured sadly.
Glorfindel gave her a sorrowful smile.
''Cruel for me, indeed, for those two are the only ones who awakened with me at the waters of Cuiviénien and dwell still in Middle-earth; and no-one else is there who could share my memories - yet they cannot any more. But I am grateful that they are, at least, alive and well, not turned into hateful monsters, and that naught can touch them in their own realm.''
''Unless Sauron gets the One Ring back'', Elrond added gravely. ''For if he does, in the end, if all else is conquered, Iarwan will fall; Last as he was First; and the Night will come.''
''True'', Glorfindel agreed, ''but then we shall not have the time to worry about him any more; for we would have fallen before him.''
There was silence again; then it was the Lady Aquiel who spoke first:
''And what became of their daughter, Tindómerel the Fair? Did she remain in the ancient city of Kortirion?''
''She did'', answered Glorfindel, ''but I never saw her again. For shortly after my sister left Kortirion to go and seek out her beloved, we who remained in Cuiviénien were found by Oromë of the Valar; and we left for Valinor.
And uncounted centuries later, when I returned to Middle-earth with the Exiles of the Noldor, Kortirion was in ruins and fair Tindóremel gone, and Ellon, the King of the city slain; and their young son dwelt in Doriath, under the protection of Elwë Singollo7, High King of the Teleri, until he decided to return to his own people who still dwelt in the woods, scattered around the ruins of Kortirion, and became their King.''
This was something even Elrond found surprising.
''So they still are descendants of Iarwan and Timdómerel among us?'', he asked. ''Who are they and why have we never heard of them?''
''Oh but you have'', laughed Glorfindel, ''save that you know not of their ancestry; and neither do they.''
''Why not?'', asked Elladan.
'''Tis a heritage too heavy and too sorrowful for them to bear'', said Glorfindel. ''It would break their heart to know what has become of their noble ancestors. It is enough for them to know that they are the children of Ellon.''
''And just who *are* they?'', Arwen intrigued. But Glorfindel only smiled.
''That'', he said, ''is another tale for another day; one I have not yet decided to tell at all. For if I ever do, you will have to swear an oath never to tell it any one in your whole life - not even Estel'', he added, looking at Arwen.
''We can promise that'', said Elrond in his daughter's stead; ''Yet I would rather you told us the tale. For it is one that should not be forgotten, even if the ones most involved are not to know it.''
Glorfindel thought about it for awhile.
''I cannot promise I would'', he finally answered, ''but I shall give it some thought. For your argument has its merits, and it would be a shame to let these great and sorrowful deeds fade into the mist of a past long gone.''
He rose from his seat.
''The tale was long enough for one night, I deem. We shall meet again on the next Elenya.''
The others agreed and slowly walked out of the Hall of Fire. At the door, Elrond unexpectedly stopped and lay a hand upon Elrohir's arm.
''I would have a word with you, my son, if you can spare me a few moments. For there are things we should have spoken about a long time ago.''
Elrohir raised a sceptical eyebrow.
''Have you talked to the Lady Lalaith?''
But his father only shook his head.
''Nay... and I have not talked to my own sons often enough, it seems. Otherwise they would speak to each other now, instead of simmering with hidden anger. Come now. The night is still long, and since you are my heir now, we have to talk about matters of certain importance.''
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
End note:
Okay, I hope I've given enough hints for anyone to solve my little riddle from the last chapter. Next we're going to Valinor, but until then I'll have to take a look at the other stories, too, before anyone forgets what hey were about.
Count on the Lady Éowyn arriving in Dunharrow, soon (in ''Frozen Flower'').
1 The first day of the week in the calendar of Imladris. I realize that I overlooked the fact in the prelude that the Elven week has only six days, and I apologize for it; in a later time, when I'll come to correct such mistakes, I'll re-load the prelude and let them meet once in every six days, instead of seven.
2 She is a character made up by me. I didn't want to make Aquiel to Gildor's daughter, in case there would be some details about Gildor's family; so I simply made her his niece. Of the same reason, I gave not further details about her father.
3 Yes, I know that shortly after the Awakening Glorfindel could not have realized te flowers, but let's just assume that Elwes awakened with a certain pre-knowledge of Arda, would we? Otherwise I'd be hard-pressed to write this story at all.
4 Glorfindel's name actually means ''the golden'', or ''gold-tressed''.
5 The very hill where later Dol Guldur, Saurons tower was built.
6 I found a note somewhere that Elwë and Olwë had a third brother, yet I don't seem to find his name any more. So I named him Ellon (for no apparent reason), until someone can tell me what his real name was. Since Elves have the confusing habit to wear many different names anyway, I decided to go with this one for the time being.
7 Better known under the Sindarin name of Elu Thingol.
THE COMPLETE STORY OF GLORFINDEL
told by Soledad Cartwright
Disclaimer: see Introduction
Rating: PG for now, but might go higher in later chapters, for violence, character death and heavy angst stuff.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Sorry for the delay, but this part needed a lot of consideration - plus I have to work for a living every time and again. This is the disadvantage of being an adult.
Anyway, now we get to witness the awakening of the Elves, and there will be a few surprises that are *not* in the canon, though to my best knowledge they don't contradict established canon facts, either. If there is anywhere in the 12 tomes of The History of Middle-earth half a footnote that tells any unimportant details differently, I'm sorry, but I still will stuck with my own interpretation. This is a work of fiction and not a scientific thesis, after all, though I try to follow the canon as well as I can.
There are some lines waved in from Chapter 3 of The Silmarillion: Of the Coming of the Elves. They are integrated in the dialogues, so I won't give individually which line it is, because I don't want the footnotes be longer than the story itself - you'll find out yourself, from the style no-one can reproduce.
I also placed here a few hints that will be unfolded in greater detail in later stories (if I ever come to write them, they'll be titled ''Kortirion Under the Trees'', which would be the 10th Boromir story, and ''The Trials of a Woodland King'', which will be focussing on Thranduil - unless I find a better title for it, which I greatly hope).
Also, for this part I have a soundtrack suggestion. I was listening to the album ''Watermark'' of Enya while writing this part.
CHAPTER ONE: AWAKENING UNDER THE STARS
PART TWO: THE COMING OF THE ELVES
The eve of Elenya1 finally arrived, and the Lady Aquiel, who was called Lalaith by the Elves of Imladris, went to the Hall of Fire to make preparations for the coming long night of storytelling. Her heart trembled with joyous anticipation, for though she had studied the lore of her people all her life, never had she had the chance to hear the tale of Awakening from someone who, in truth, was among the Fristborn to open his eyes for the newborn starlight - even though she was born in the Second Age and as a young child had the rare chance to see Gil-galad, last High King of the Noldor, with her own eyes; something that very few of her generation could say from themselves.
But Aquiel Lalaith was the daughter of Aglareth,2 the sister of Gildor Inglorion, and she had been Glorfindel's student from her early childhood on. Born on the day of Yén, the Elven New Year that comes only once in a century, she was gifted by the Lady with great wisdom and an eagerness to learn, uncommon even among Elves. Her father slain in the Battle upon Dagorlad and her mother faded away from grief, Gildor became her guardian and sent her to Imladris where she would be safe and cared for.
So she was brought up with Elrond's children - though they were considerably younger than her - and under the motherly care of Celebrían, and was taught not only by Glorfindel but by Elrond himself, and even by the Lady and Lord of the Golden Wood, for she often visited Lothlórien with Arwen, and she was considered part of their family.
When Elrohir fell in love with her, and she found that she, too, loved him, Elrond gladly gave his blessing, even though his younger son barely reached maturity at that time. Yet they decided to wait with their vows till Aquiel finished her studies and became a Master of lore herself, for she needed to stay focussed for that, which she could not have been while nurturing children. And Elrond and Celebrían agreed with this decision, for Elrohir was, indeed, much too young for a bond that could not be broken again - and they had all the time of the world, after all.
But then the shadows grew darker again, and Celebrían was waylaid upon the Redhorn Pass and captured and tortured and finally departed over Sea, not being able to find any beauty or joy in Middle-earth any more. Grief and despair filled Elrond's home, and though Elrond himself had been healed thank the love of the Prince of Mirkwood, his sons became obsessed with Orc-hunting and were far from home for years. The great feast of Yén, the feast of bonding, came and found Elrohir absent, and the long-planned wedding failed to come about.
This hit Aquiel very hard, yet she was proud enough and strong enough not to show it; and she never mentioned their plans to Elrohir again, hoping that he would overcome his grief and come back to himself; for in the measure of their Kin they vere still young. When nothing changed, she spoke to Glorfindel about it, and though she kept her high spirits, at least outwards, she became strangely detached from the affairs of Elrond's house and turned to ancient lore for comfort, and she knew that her tutor was worried.
She had almost given up hope that Elrond's sons would ever care for anything else but their vengeance, yet Elladan's suddenly inflamed passion for a mortal Man made her think again. If Elladan could have found his way back to life, mayhap his twin would find it, too. Mayhap now, that the family drew closer again after so many years, they shall be able to straight things out between them, her and Elrohir, she thought. For though she cheerished their long friendship, this was not the promise she had been given, and she grew tired of waiting.
Approaching the Hall of Fire through the back door, carrying the wine for the evening, she heard with surprise that somebody had preceeded her. The quiet, angry voices belonged to Elrond's sons, who very cleary were in the middle of one of their rare but bitter fights. She stealthed nearer, curious, though she could guess what they were fighting about. Ever since Elladan had made his choice, his brother had been irate and hard to bear, and Aquiel was worried that things between the twins may go truly wrong this time. For though it did not happen oft, when they fought, it could be very hurtful.
''I have spoken with father about your decision'', the younger twin said in a low, pain-loaded voice.
''I thought you would'', Elladan replied ruefully. ''It hit him too hard to bear it alone, and with Legolas gone and Arwen distracted by her own worries, he needed someone else to share his pain.''
''Small wonder'', Elrohir commented drily. ''He was devastated already by Arwen's choice, but yours...''
''*What* about my choice?'' Elladan asked, his eyes cold like ice. ''Is it less honourable than Arwen's just because Boromir has not been brought up in this house? Or is he not worthy of my love because he is not of the blood of Elros? What makes Estel better than him? He is a good Man, a Man of pride and honour, who has made great sacrifices to fulfill his duty towards his land and his people, and I love him for that.''
''But he does not love you'', said Elrohir, and Aquiel winced from this curelty; the last thing Elladan needed in his grief was someone reminding him that his love was unrequited.
Yet, strangely, Elrond's eldest did not seem to be hurt from his brother's careless remark.
''He does... in his own way'', he said with a shrug.
''And that is enough for you to give up the grace of your life?'', Elrohir fumed. ''For a few morsels of affection you would accept the Doom of Men without a second thought? What about the promise you gave *me*? Have you not promised that we would make our choice together? That our paths would never part?''
''You do not understand'', sighed Elladan, and suddenly he looked very tired. ''I did not know love back then. Yet now... I could not bear eternal life without him. I cannot carry this loss 'till the end of Arda.''
This answer, it seemed, made Elrohir even more furious, but ere he could have found some really hurtful reply that he would, no doubt, deeply regret afterwards, Aquiel stepped between them, put her load down on the table and gave the younger twin a cold, hard look of disapproval.
''Say naught, Elrohir, or I shall remind you of other promises given and broken.''
Elrohir, surprised by her intervention, looked at her in askance.
''I know not what you mean, Lady Lalaith.''
''Truly?'' Aquiel arched a fine eyebrow and raised her left hand with the silver ring of betrothal on the index finger. ''How many times has Yén come and passed since we exchanged the rings of promise? And where have you been at those times? Is your given word of so little weight that five hundred years were not long enough for you to fulfill your oath?''
Elrohir tried to answer but Aquiel silenced him again with a stern gesture.
''Be quiet. I wish not to argue with you. I only tell you this, Elrohir Elrondion: I shall not wait for you any longer. Either you make up your mind till next Yén, or I shall end this fruitless bond and go to the Havens. For I am a daughter of Finrod's House, not your chambermaid, and I have endured your selfishness long enough.''
With that, she turned sharply and left the Hall, driven with long-surpressed anger - but also filled with grim satisfaction. She had delayed this decision much too long, hoping that Elrohir would come to his senses. Now she had enough and was not willing to bear his indecision any longer.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The air still was a little tense between the members of Elrond's extended family when they gathered around the great hearth again, shortly after sunset. They sat in uncomfortable silence, for Elladan and Elrohir were still not speaking to each other, and the Lady Aquiel was cold and distant to everyone, and Arwen's heart was heavy with anguish. Elrond silently asked himself, what might have happened between them, making a decision to ask each and every one of them later - and alone.
All were relieved when Glorfindel finally arrived and took his seat across Elrond's at the other end of the table. The ancient Elf took a lok around and his brows knitted slightly, noticing the tension, but he said nothing.
''So, Master Glorfindel'', said Elrond, yet his smile was forced, ''now we shall learn the secrets you withheld from us last time, I hope?''
''All in good time, my Lord'', answered Glorfindel slowly, his wise, ancient eyes watching the tired faces of the young Elves closely. ''I have spent the last few days in waking dreams to find my path back to the beginnings, so do not rush me, I pray you. Now. Where should I set on? Is there aught you would like to hear of, more than other things?''
It was Arwen again who spoke first, for she had harboured thoughts about non-life longer than either of her brothers.
''Do you... do you remember aught from *before*?'', she asked quietly. ''Before you opened your eyes for the newborn stars? What was it like... the Sleep of Ilúvatar?''
''I have but little memories of the time before the Awakening'', Glorfindel replied thoughtfully, eyes focussing inwardly again, ''yet I believe it had to be like a deep slumber for mortals - or the time of an unborn child in the womb. For unborn we were, indeed, and I know not, nor did the others ever, how we had taken on our forms, awakening as you can see me now.''
''Did you dream?'' Arwen asked. Glorfindel shook his head.
''If I did, I do not remember it. There was no light in the Sleep, therefore there were no colours, no sight... only the slow murmur of the waters and darkness. It was very peaceful, and in that darkness, there was no fear yet. No-one knows, not even the Valar themselves, save perhaps Manwë, to whom the secret thoughts of Ilúvatar are revealed in all matters that concern this world, how long we had slept at the dark waters of Cuiviénen.
Then, at one time - for day and night were not yet born - the murmurs of the waters changed, for the starlight touched their dark surface, and their song grew in strength and sweetness and beauty, and it woke a longing in our sleeping hearts; a longing that could not be denied. And so our eyes opened on their own, and we saw the sparkling silver flames upon the deep dark velvet of the skies; and the dark Waters of Awakening mirrored their light on their shining surface a thousand times, and it was a beauty so great that our hearts could barely bear it.
'Ele! (Behold!)', cried one of us - the first one whose eyes were opened, and this was the first word ever spoken among the Firstborn; and much later, when we formed our first tongue, that was named afterwards Ilkorin by the lore-masters, from this cry of the oldest and fatherless the ancient words of 'él' and 'elen', the oldest names for the stars, came; and also 'elda' and 'elena', which mean 'of the stars'.
But I am getting ahead of myself. As I said, when our eyes were opened, the first thing we saw was the beauty of the stars; and long did we lay there, admiring this great beauty, and we wept from the sheer joy of it, for at that time tears had naught to do with sorrow. Not yet.
Then, after our hearts calmed down a little, we looked around and beheld each other for the first time, and our awe was great, for though of the same Kin, we still were very different in shapes and colours. Some lay alone upon their beds of grass and moss, yet others in pairs, like two peas in one pod - the way, later twins lay in the womb of their mother.
As I turned to my side, I saw that I, too, was given a twin of my own, and my heart filled with great joy, for she was lovely beyond measure, her beauty second only to the newborn stars. Her long, pale hair rippled down her shoulders like falling water in the starligt; her gown was green, green as young weeds, shot with silver-like beads of dew; and her belt was of gold, shaped like a chain of flag-lilies set with the pale blue eyes of forget-me-nots3. Her eyes were clear, but dark like the sky above us, and her voice like a silver bell. And I loved my fair sister from the first moment on and called her Tindómerel, 'daughter of the twilight'; and she laughed upon seeing me, and touched my hair and gave me the name I am still wearing4.''
Glorfindel trailed off, his mind still wandering the dark fields of a past long gone. The younger Elves were silent for awhile, waiting for him to continue. When he did not, the eyes turned to Elrond, and the Master of the House asked:
''What happened to her? Last time you hinted that she still dwells out there somewhere.''
''She does'', Glorfindel sighed, returning to the present, ''yet she wears the name I once gave her no more; and she is lost for me, for ever.''
Elrond frowned; Glorfindel's tale was getting more and more confusing.
''How come...?''
''I shall come to *that* part of the tale, too'', Glorfindel promised, ''so bear with me a little longer, I pray you. 'Tis not easy for me to remember, for it had been so long ago, and to Cuiviénen there is no returning, for in the changes of the world the shapes of lands and of seas have been broken and remade; rivers have not kept their course, neither have mountains remained steadfast; and the womb of Arda that carried us during the Sleep is gone, for ever.''
He paused again, and a great sadness clouded his beautiful, ageless face upon the thought that he would never see the mystical place of his birth again. For someone who had no parents, it was even more bitter than for other people.
''Where had it been?'' Elladan asked quietly; never had he cared too much for ancient lore, yet the painful longing of his tutor touched his heart.
Glorfindel sighed and gave him a small smile.
''It lay far off in the east of Middle-earth, and northward'', he said, ''and it was a bay in the Inland Sea of Helcar; and that sea stood where aforetime the roots of Illuin had been before Melkor overthrew it.''
His eyes focussed inwards again, and his face shone with the silent joy of blissful memories as he added:
''Many waters flowed down thither from heights in the east, and the first sound that was heard by the Firstborn was the sound of water flowing, and the sound of water falling over stone.''
He shook his head sadly, for though he had lived many thousands of years and heard the music of Valinor, nothing had ever sounded so beautiful for his heart as the singing and murmuring waters of Cuiviénen.
''Long we dwelt in our first home, by the water under stars'', he finally continued; ''and we walked the Earth in wonder, to learn all living things that thrive upon it. And we began to make speech and to give names to all things that we saw and learnt. Ourselves we named the Quendi, 'those who speak with voices'; for as yet we had met no other living things that spoke or sang. Some of us found great liking in each other and formed a bond that could not be broken, and we spread out further and further over Middle-earth.
In the beginning, the Elder Children of Ilúvatar were stronger and greater than they have since become; but not more fair, for though the beauty of the Quendi in the days of their youth was beyond all other beauty that Ilúvatar had caused to be, it has not perished, but lives in the West, and sorrow and wisdom have aided it. Every one who has ever met the Vanyar, the gold-haired Elves of the First Kind, know what I am talking about - and their fairness still shines in Middle-earth in the Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood.
Yet it was those of the Third Kind, who later were called the Teleri, who walked out along the waters, following them through the great forests eastwards of the Misty Mountains; and some even settled down under the trees and built a great city upon the hill of Amon Lanc5, as it was called later: a city of white stone but moreso of great elm trees that grew through the houses, and springs that flew along the streets, and other wonders only seen in the cities of the Blessed Realm later. There they dwelt, with birds and good beasts, and they became separate from the rest of us.
Yet our life was not without fear any more. For Morgoth, the Dark Enemy, was already aware of our Awakening, and sent shadows and evil spirits to spy upon us and waylay us. So it came to pass that if any of us strayed far abroad - mostly to visit the beautiful city of Kortirion in the great woods -, alone or a few together, they would often wanish and never return; and some of us whispered that the Hunter caught them, and from that time on, we were afraid of shadows.
And indeed, our most ancient songs, of which echoes are remembered still in the West, and among the Silvan folk who do not forget, tell of the shadow-shapes that walked the hills above Cuiviénien, or would pass suddenly over the stars; and of a Dark Rider upon his wild horse that pursued those that wandered to take them and devour them.
Only one among us knew no fear: Iarwan, who had been the first to open his eyes and behold the starlight. And the newborn light dwelt in his dark eyes for ever, as if he would have had stars in his very eyes; and all loved him, for he was tall and slender and very beautiful with his thick brown hair and fair face; and there was a charm in his voice that could enchant trees and beasts alike. His songs held a power no-one could resist, not even our own Kin.
And more than all others did Tindómerel love him, my beloved sister, she who had the might to make the rain fall and had a spell over all the flowing and falling waters of Cuiviénien; and she was called River-daughter for this. And Iarwan, too, found a liking in her, and the two of them forged a bond, stronger than any other bond that had been forged among our Kin; and Tindómerel was the first to bring forth a new life to our people, out of her own body: a daughter of great beauty, whose hair was the colour of silver starlight and whose eyes were deep emerald green like the forests; and she, too, was called Tindómerel, after her mother.
Dearly did my sister love this precious child, and she brought her to Kortirion, for she was afraid of the dark beings that haunted Cuiviénien and wanted her child to grow up in safety. But Iarwan went not with them, for he could not leave the place of our birth; for he was the oldest of us and his roots in the Earth were very deep, indeed.
Yet one day he felt great longing after his beloved and their child and he decided to visit them in that fair city. We begged him to stay, for at that time the Hunter was preying around our dwellings frequently, but he only laughed merrily and left anyway. We never saw him again.''
There was a long silece; then the Lady Aquiel asked:
''Had he been... taken? What happened to him?''
''Little is known of a cetainty of those unhappy ones who were ensnared by Morgoth'', Glorfindel replied sadly. ''For who of the living had ever descended into the pits of Utumno, or had looked into the darkness of Morgoth's counsels? Yet this is held true by the wise of Eressëa, that all those of the Quendi who came into the hands of Morgoth ere Utumno was broken, were put there in prison, and by slow arts of cruelty and dark sorcery were corrupted and enslaved; and thus did Morgoth breed the hideous race of the Orcs, in envy and mockery of the Elves; and afterwards they became our bitterest foes.''
''Is there then no truth at all in the old legends that say the Orcs were bred in earth and formed of hot mud?'', Aquiel asked. Glorfindel shook his head.
''Naught that had life of its own could ever Morgoth make since his rebellion before the Beginning; so say the wise of Valinor. The life of Orcs is stolen from our own Kin; yet they became a mortal race, due to the horrors they went through in the dark pits of Utumno; and because their ties of origin were severed. And deep in their darkened hearts the Orcs loathed their Master, the maker of their misery, whom they served in fear. This may be was the vilest deed of Morgoth, and the most hateful to Ilúvatar.''
The younger Elves nodded in agreement; the tale of the Orcs was a well-known one among their Kin, one that always filled their hearts with sorrow, even though the Orcs of the Third Age were far different fromt heir Elvish ancestors and had long forgotten about their origins during the uncounted generations that were born and slain since the Elder Days.
Naught but monsters they had become along that endless chain of birth and death; yet the Elves still grieved their fate, even if they were forced to kill them in order to save themselves. Great hatred was now between the estranged kins, one born of the cruelty and the vile of the Enemy - for only those wo are in their deepest core very much alike could hate each other with such profound embitterment.
The Orcs hated the Elves for what they had lost and could never become again: for their beauty, wisdom and immortality. The Elves hated the Orcs for what they might become, would have fate been less merciful to them. Deep was their hatred towards each other, deeper than the bottomless depths of the Sea; for it was born of fear - a fear that had rooted in their hearts ever since the Awakening.
''Is it still possible.. could Elves still be crippled and corrupted enough to make them Orcs?'', Elladan asked after a while.
''With the arts and skills that Sauron possesses now, it cannot be made'', Glorfindel said. ''But should he ever get the One Ring back... I fear that it would be possible. For the One was made with the dark arts that Sauron learnt while he dwelt in Morgoths mighty shadow, and much of the power that had been wrought into it was lent from Morgoth himself. Should the Ring-bearer fail, we would better cut our throats by our own hand, for it would be a fate much less cruel.''
They were silent again, for a length at time. Then Elrond shifted in his seat and asked:
''You still have not told us what became of Iarwan. Was he truly taken?''
''He was'', Glorfindel sighed, ''and great was Morgoth's excitement to lay his black hands on him to torture him; for he hoped to turn him into a monster of outstanding cruelty, for he was the first, fairest and strongest of us all. Yet the Enemy had not counted with the strength of his will and with his sharp wit.
Indeed, Iarwan peered into the twisted mind of Morgoth and many of the Enemy's secrets were laid open for him; and he learnt enough to escape from Utumno - and 'tis said that he was the only one who ever succeeded. Yet so dark and evil it was what he seen, that his mind could not bear it. He became as a small child, merry and innocent, yet he forgot who he was, whom he belonged to, and walked off into the wilderness without memories.''
''And that was the end of him?'', Elrohir asked, disappointment clearly written upon his face.
''Nay'', smiled Glorfindel, ''that was not the end of him. For the winds and the waters bore tidings to my sister wo dwelt in Kortirion still, that the oldest and fatherless fled Morgoth's dungeon, and she entrusted little Tindómerel the Quendi of that city, who were led by Ellon6, the brother of Elwë and Olwë, and she went westwards to find her beloved.
And find him she did, indeed, in the great wilderness whose last remnants are called the Old Forest in these days; but his beauty was gone - his body deformed and his mind broken -, and he did not remember her or their love for each other, nor did he remember their fair little daughter, the first child ever born to our Kin. Yet my sister loved him still and remained with him, and they made a home for themselves, deep in the forest, forgotten by all, even by te Enemy.
In that timeless peace Iarwan finally healed to a certain extent, and though he never remembered his true self again, much of his strength of old was revived. Small is his realm in the Old Forest, where they still dwell, yet between its borders no other lord has power over them. Iarwan has the power over the trees and my sister, whom he still calls River-daughter, for this is the only thing he could remember about her, has power over the waters, and she still can make the rain fall at will. A very simple life it is they lead, that of the Silvan folk not unlike, but at least they are undisturbed - and, I think, they are happy.''
''Did you ever see her again?'' Arwen asked. Glorfindel nodded.
''A few times, when I had to take a shortcut through the Old Forest, for one reason or another. She still looks as young and beautiful as in the hour when I first laid eyes upon her. But the grief over Iarwan and the hardness of her long search after him had not left her mind uneffected, either. Though fair and kind and friendly she is to all those who knock on her door, and her power seems unlimited, she does not remember, either, where she came from, who she once was; nor can she remember me and that I am her brother.''
''What a cruel fate!'', Arwen murmured sadly.
Glorfindel gave her a sorrowful smile.
''Cruel for me, indeed, for those two are the only ones who awakened with me at the waters of Cuiviénien and dwell still in Middle-earth; and no-one else is there who could share my memories - yet they cannot any more. But I am grateful that they are, at least, alive and well, not turned into hateful monsters, and that naught can touch them in their own realm.''
''Unless Sauron gets the One Ring back'', Elrond added gravely. ''For if he does, in the end, if all else is conquered, Iarwan will fall; Last as he was First; and the Night will come.''
''True'', Glorfindel agreed, ''but then we shall not have the time to worry about him any more; for we would have fallen before him.''
There was silence again; then it was the Lady Aquiel who spoke first:
''And what became of their daughter, Tindómerel the Fair? Did she remain in the ancient city of Kortirion?''
''She did'', answered Glorfindel, ''but I never saw her again. For shortly after my sister left Kortirion to go and seek out her beloved, we who remained in Cuiviénien were found by Oromë of the Valar; and we left for Valinor.
And uncounted centuries later, when I returned to Middle-earth with the Exiles of the Noldor, Kortirion was in ruins and fair Tindóremel gone, and Ellon, the King of the city slain; and their young son dwelt in Doriath, under the protection of Elwë Singollo7, High King of the Teleri, until he decided to return to his own people who still dwelt in the woods, scattered around the ruins of Kortirion, and became their King.''
This was something even Elrond found surprising.
''So they still are descendants of Iarwan and Timdómerel among us?'', he asked. ''Who are they and why have we never heard of them?''
''Oh but you have'', laughed Glorfindel, ''save that you know not of their ancestry; and neither do they.''
''Why not?'', asked Elladan.
'''Tis a heritage too heavy and too sorrowful for them to bear'', said Glorfindel. ''It would break their heart to know what has become of their noble ancestors. It is enough for them to know that they are the children of Ellon.''
''And just who *are* they?'', Arwen intrigued. But Glorfindel only smiled.
''That'', he said, ''is another tale for another day; one I have not yet decided to tell at all. For if I ever do, you will have to swear an oath never to tell it any one in your whole life - not even Estel'', he added, looking at Arwen.
''We can promise that'', said Elrond in his daughter's stead; ''Yet I would rather you told us the tale. For it is one that should not be forgotten, even if the ones most involved are not to know it.''
Glorfindel thought about it for awhile.
''I cannot promise I would'', he finally answered, ''but I shall give it some thought. For your argument has its merits, and it would be a shame to let these great and sorrowful deeds fade into the mist of a past long gone.''
He rose from his seat.
''The tale was long enough for one night, I deem. We shall meet again on the next Elenya.''
The others agreed and slowly walked out of the Hall of Fire. At the door, Elrond unexpectedly stopped and lay a hand upon Elrohir's arm.
''I would have a word with you, my son, if you can spare me a few moments. For there are things we should have spoken about a long time ago.''
Elrohir raised a sceptical eyebrow.
''Have you talked to the Lady Lalaith?''
But his father only shook his head.
''Nay... and I have not talked to my own sons often enough, it seems. Otherwise they would speak to each other now, instead of simmering with hidden anger. Come now. The night is still long, and since you are my heir now, we have to talk about matters of certain importance.''
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
End note:
Okay, I hope I've given enough hints for anyone to solve my little riddle from the last chapter. Next we're going to Valinor, but until then I'll have to take a look at the other stories, too, before anyone forgets what hey were about.
Count on the Lady Éowyn arriving in Dunharrow, soon (in ''Frozen Flower'').
1 The first day of the week in the calendar of Imladris. I realize that I overlooked the fact in the prelude that the Elven week has only six days, and I apologize for it; in a later time, when I'll come to correct such mistakes, I'll re-load the prelude and let them meet once in every six days, instead of seven.
2 She is a character made up by me. I didn't want to make Aquiel to Gildor's daughter, in case there would be some details about Gildor's family; so I simply made her his niece. Of the same reason, I gave not further details about her father.
3 Yes, I know that shortly after the Awakening Glorfindel could not have realized te flowers, but let's just assume that Elwes awakened with a certain pre-knowledge of Arda, would we? Otherwise I'd be hard-pressed to write this story at all.
4 Glorfindel's name actually means ''the golden'', or ''gold-tressed''.
5 The very hill where later Dol Guldur, Saurons tower was built.
6 I found a note somewhere that Elwë and Olwë had a third brother, yet I don't seem to find his name any more. So I named him Ellon (for no apparent reason), until someone can tell me what his real name was. Since Elves have the confusing habit to wear many different names anyway, I decided to go with this one for the time being.
7 Better known under the Sindarin name of Elu Thingol.