Author's Note: For those of you who haven't read the book(s) and only saw the movie, Glorfindel is one character who was cut out. In the movie, Arwen saves Frodo; in the book, Glorfindel comes across Strider and etc., puts Frodo on his stallion and sends him off when the Riders come after him. Frodo crosses the river and yells ineffectually at the Nine. Elrond calls up the river waters and Gandalf gives the water the shape of horses and riders. As he is passing out, Frodo sees a bright light on the other side of the river as well as some dark shapes with fire. The light is Glorfindel and the shapes are Strider and the others who are holding torches.
I wish he had been put into the movie somehow because I really like the picture of him and Asfaloth running right before they meet up with Strider. But Arwen/Liv Tyler did a wonderful job of rescuing Frodo.
A Final Author's Note: Please read and review this! If you don't like it, say so politely. Also, I'm thinking about maybe expanding it, or adding to it, or something. If you have any ideas, tell me.
A Light Amidst the DarkGlorfindel, an Elven-lord of great power, was a sight to behold as he sped through Middle-earth astride the white Elf-horse, Asfaloth. Asfaloth gleamed brightly in the night and Glorfindel, aptly named 'golden-haired,' seemed to almost become translucent in the moonlight. Over the thick grass the stallion sped, his hooves making no sound. The bells on his halter rang in the wind, but the sound carried no further than the Elf's ears. Glorfindel rode hard and fast, sharp eyes peering into the night ahead. As he broke out of the patch of trees into the open, the sound of heavy hoof beats thundered around him. The Nine Nazgul had found him.
He urged Asfaloth on, glancing quickly back at the Dark creatures behind him. The Nazgul were not alone. Two Orcs rode smaller horses, carrying bows, and looking uncomfortable in the saddle. As the black horses of the Nazgul sped up, Asfaloth whinnied a challenge to them and lengthened his stride. Try as they might, the dark steeds could not hem in the Elf-stallion and he broke ahead of them.
"Elf-lord. It is Sauron's will that you do not live to see daylight. You will not make it to Rivendell." one of the Nazgul hissed, its voice hollow and dead.
Glorfindel did not reply, only bent over Asfaloth's neck as the stallion's heavy hooves began to thud on the ground as they left the thick grass. The nine horses of the Nazgul neighed angrily and tossed their heads. Seemingly in response, the two Orcs drew their bows, black arrows pointed towards the Elf-lord and his horse.
Their target looked back in time to see the Orcs aim, and turned Asfaloth to the side. The arrows whistled past and Asfaloth pinned his ears back as one whizzed by close over his head. More arrows came as a hidden group of horsed Orcs came out of the night, firing and screeching as they did. Even Glorfindel's skill and Asfaloth's speed couldn't save them from the hail of arrows. One buried itself deep into the stallion's flank and Asfaloth screamed. He stumbled and fell, throwing Glorfindel from his back as he crashed into the ground. The Elf hit the ground and rolled, drawing his sword as he stood up.
The Orcs cut in front of the Nazgul, eager to finish the Elf and his horse off, but the Nazgul were faster and rode them down. The Orcs' horses panicked as they felt the black steeds' breath on their haunches and bucked, throwing their riders in the path of the Nazgul's horses, who trampled them into the earth. The Nazgul circled around Glorfindel, their harsh screeching filling the air. Glorfindel raised his sword, whether in warning or challenge, he did not know. The Nine replied in kind, drawing long swords from beneath their cloaks.
"Your blood will stain this earth tonight, Elf." the leader of the Nazgul warned.
Glorfindel turned his glance on him. His eyes were cold and fathomless, flashing with a hint of the power he contained.
"If you touch either the horse or me, you will sorely regret it." he retorted calmly.
Behind him, Asfaloth struggled to his hooves, the arrow still buried in his side. He shook himself fiercely and the arrow shivered and fell free from him. Glorfindel reclaimed his seat on the horse and turned him in a tight circle, so that he could watch the Nazgul.
Suddenly, the Nazgul tensed. Their armor clinked as though they were getting ready to spring forward. Asfaloth noticed this and reared, screaming a challenge to the Nazgul. The Dark steeds tossed their heads, fighting their riders' control. They wanted to fight the Elf-horse and they stamped their hooves impatiently, but the Nine held them in check.
They tightened the circle slowly, until Asfaloth whirled and snapped his teeth at the horses when they came too close. They backed off a step or two, taken aback by the stallion's fury.
But the Nine pressed forward. Their cold blades lifted slowly until they were held level with Glorfindel's neck. They were sure of themselves, confident in their victory, and, like the Men they had once been, they savored this knowledge. The Nine took their time, wanting to capture the moment of triumph in their minds and this was a human thing to do. But Elves will not wait for the time of Men.
Glorfindel threw his head back, and in his eyes kindled a fire that burned like ice. He held his sword above his head and Asfaloth reared, neighing. The Nine were unmoved and only moved closer. Glorfindel shouted aloud to the heavens, his clear voice ringing with the Elven words. A sudden burst of light seemed to spring from deep within him, surrounding him and Asfaloth with a bright glow of white. The blades of the Nazgul were shattered, falling into dust. The Riders dropped the hilts of their swords as if they burned them. They paused, uncertain now, but still retaining the thought of victory.
Asfaloth stood on his hind legs, his mane and tail streaming, and his white coat seemed to be brighter than it had been before. The Elf on his back was the same; his golden hair fell onto his back and was a pinprick of gold in the blinding white.
"Do you fear the wrath of an Elf-lord?" he shouted to the Nazgul. They did not reply, for they were too busy trying to control their horses. The steeds pranced anxiously, wary around the power of Glorfindel.
"We do not know fear." one of the Nazgul retorted.
At that, Glorfindel almost smiled. In that instant, his true nature was known. He was a First-Born, an Elf-lord. He was young and old, wise with the knowledge of thousands of years and strong with the victory of a thousand battles. Pride was in his face; pride without arrogance, and he embodied the ethereal grace and beauty of his people.
"You will." he replied simply. Beneath him, Asfaloth shifted his weight. Like his master, the blood of lords ran in his veins. Now he stood tall, his neck arched proudly, his head held up and slightly turned to the side as he studied the opposition with liquid black eyes. A smoky gray mane fell loosely over his neck and a long tail of the same color swept behind him.
Sensing this shift of power from them to the Elf, the Nazgul compensated smoothly. They sat straighter in their saddles, but withdrew into the shadows of their cloaks. They reined in their horses, who quieted and stood like statues, heads raised, almost mimicking the Elf's stallion.
Glorfindel slashed his sword in a blinding circle around him that would have beheaded the Nine had they been alive. "Flee from here, foul creatures!"
As he raised his sword again, the Nine whirled as one and ran, building a thundering storm of hoof beats on the earth. The last one to leave the circle whipped past Glorfindel with a parting shot.
"There will come a day when you will fall."
"Maybe, but not before you are defeated." Glorfindel replied.
And then they were gone, like nightmares into the recesses of the mind. Dark shadows moving swiftly across the land, foreboding, but retreating for now. Glorfindel sheathed his sword, and the glow around him faded. Asfaloth snorted and Glorfindel turned his head in the direction of Rivendell, uttering the phrase that would save a Ringbearer's life days later. Only now it was spoken softly, and without urgency as it would be for Frodo.
"Noro lim, Asfaloth, noro lim."
Author's Endnote: A translation for those who don't know what Glorfindel just said: Noro lim is the equivalent of Ride on. If I'm wrong, go ahead and correct me.
