A/N: I know it's taken me a long time to update. I apologize. I'm not a
very quick updater plus the fact that the document manager was down so I
couldn't upload. Grr. Plus I was just on vacation for three weeks and did
not have access to a computer. Hope you like this. Next chapter should be
soon.
Warning: There is very slight slash toward the end of this chapter. It
doesn't even come close to being graphic and they don't even kiss. I know I
said there wouldn't be slash until the sequel, but this just kind of wrote
itself in. It shouldn't offend anyone unless your are radically against any
m/m interaction.
CG/MD- Thanks for the nice review! Don't worry, he'll land on his feet.
He's an Elf ;)
Galahan- Thanks for the info. I will look into it. Which book out of the
HoMe has the description of Mandos?
Year 700, Second Age
A golden-haired Elf stood on a cliff, hands clasped behind his back, the ocean breeze lifting tendrils of his hair, curling them around his throat and face. He noticed none of this, though, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the horizon as if he could see the lands that lay there to the East. Foam capped waves crashed against the base of the cliff in a constant rhythm. The water droplets of the spray hung suspended for a moment in the air, sparkling like the gems of the Noldor, before falling back down to rejoin with the sea.
Another Elf came up noiselessly up behind him and stood for a moment his gaze following the other's to see what so captivated him. Understanding came across his face and he reached out with his mind to the Elf in front of him. A touch of comfort.
"Finrod," the golden-haired Elf greeted, turning around and meeting the gray-blue eyes of the Elf who had come up behind him.
"You leave tomorrow?" Finrod asked, sorrow in his wise eyes.
"Yes," the Elf replied, turning around to face the sea again.
"I will miss you, Glorfindel." Finrod laid a hand on the Elf's shoulder.
"And I you, meldir," Glorfindel replied, smiling at the Elf whose hair was the same golden color as his own, a result of their Vanyar heritage.
"You will tell my sister I am well?"
"I will."
"Thank you. I realize that you and she never got along very well," Finrod said knowingly.
"I hope it wasn't that obvious," Glorfindel groaned, covering his eyes with a hand.
"No, no, it wasn't," Finrod laughed. "I just know my sister too well, and I could tell when she didn't particularly care for someone. I know you just as well now, and I can sense your dislike when anyone talks about her."
"My apologies, meldir," Glorfindel murmured. "I do not mean to infer anything about your sister."
"Don't apologize. I know my sister can sometimes be difficult to get along with."
Silence fell between the two of them as they stared out at the sea. At length, Finrod broke the silence again.
"I don't envy you, Glorfindel. Though some of my kin yet dwell there, I have no wish to return to Middle Earth. I gave my life there before, and I have no desire to do so again."
"You deserve your rest, my friend," Glorfindel smiled slightly. "My work is not yet finished, though. I have foreseen that I have some part yet to play there, and my fate is interwoven with the descendents of Turgon; as it has been since I first took service with the son of Fingolfin. I will return here, but not for centuries."
"Come away from the sea," Finrod urged, grabbing Glorfindel's hand and pulling him back towards the city. "You will see Middle Earth soon enough, but come back for now. Spend your last day in company with your Noldor and Vanyar kin, for you will not see them for some time after this. My wife, Amari?, and my son, Gildor, also wish to see you again before you leave."
"I will come," Glorfindel said, taking a last look at the sea before following Finrod back to his house in Tirion on Tuna.
A feast was held in the evening with Glorfindel as the guest of honor. Many Noldor and Vanyar attended the feast, to say farewell to the much beloved Elf. So many Elves were in attendance, that the whole affair was conducted outside so there would be enough room. After a sumptuous feast of many different foods, a few Elves took out instruments and began to tune them.
"Now it is time for the dance," Finrod whispered in Glorfindel's ear. "The music is wonderful, but I must grudgingly admit that it will never be as beautiful as it was when Maglor's music rang through the hills and vales of Valinor."
"I wonder what has become of Maglor?" Glorfindel said, leaning back thoughtfully in his chair.
"Maybe you can search him out when you return to Middle Earth," Finrod replied, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm afraid it would not be good for his health if we met."
Finrod shook his head and stood up, reaching down to pull Glorfindel out of his chair. "We will not discuss such things now. Come, join the dance!"
A single Elf was standing in the center of the gathering, his skillful fingers playing a quick yet haunting melody on a violin. Behind him, drums beat out a rhythm and a flute played harmony to the violin's melody. The rhythm was one of the forest and conjured up images of tall oaks and the more slender birches and alders. The moon painted the scene with silver light as Elves danced through the trees. Glorfindel could feel his heartbeat synchronize with the drums and the rhythm seemed to course through his veins. Abandoning himself to the flow he joined the other Elves in the passionate dance. As the Elves joined into partners, Glorfindel found himself paired with Gildor, the golden-haired son of Finrod. Clasping one hand, Glorfindel led him in the wild, free dance. As the dance ended, the two turned to each other, breathing hard, their cheeks slightly flushed.
"Thank you for the dance," Glorfindel said, inclining his head slightly, and then looking back up to meet the eyes of Gildor, who was scant centimeters shorter than him.
The intensity of the look Gildor focused on him startled Glorfindel. The Elf lord was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, and the fact that their hands were still clasped together. Gildor's hand suddenly seemed very hot, and the touch sent fire racing through Glorfindel's nerves. Gildor now reached up his other hand and lightly brushed Glorfindel's jawline with the tips of his fingers. The contact sent tingles down his spine, and Glorfindel drew in a quick breath. He reached up to stop Gildor's hand, but found that the fingers had wandered downward and were now brushing over his throat. This was too much for Glorfindel, and he wrenched his hand out of Gildor's grasp before turning and striding hurriedly in the other direction.
Reclaiming his earlier abandoned seat, the Elf lord stared off broodingly into the night sky. 'Why did I react in such a way to him?' Glorfindel wondered in amazement and irritation. 'I am not some inexperienced elfling, and I have gently rejected others before with no problems.' Looking about him, Glorfindel saw no sign of Gildor and with a pang of guilt, hoped he hadn't driven off the younger Elf. Deciding to forget the incident and enjoy the rest of his last evening in Valinor, Glorfindel turned to conversation with a raven-haired Noldor seated next to him. Glorfindel was one of the few Elves wholeheartedly accepted by most of both the Vanyar and the Noldor. The Noldor tended to distance themselves from the Vanyar because they believed that the Vanyar held themselves higher than the rest of the Elves. The Vanyar found the Noldor to be strange in their love of craft and the night, as well as their independent streak that had caused them to rebel against the Valar centuries earlier. Despite the fact that Glorfindel was Vanyar, he had taken service with a Noldorin lord, and gained the trust and love of that people.
A little later, Glorfindel saw Gildor reappear and felt relief pass through him. The younger Elf seemed to be doing fine, talking and smiling with a group of Noldor kinsmen. Finrod reappeared at Glorfindel's side, and the two spent the rest of the time reminiscing on old memories, along with a group of Noldor that had joined them. A few of the Vanyar gathered around as well, having never experienced any of what the Noldor discussed; eager to listen to the deeds that had been written about in song and were sung still in Valinor. Glorfindel noticed that Gildor had joined the group, and he studiously avoided making eye contact with the son of Finrod.
When the torches began to burn low, many of the Elves began to make their way back to their respective homes. On their way, they stopped and said farewell to Glorfindel, wishing him success and the blessing of the Valar on his journey. When most of the Elves had departed, Finrod asked Glorfindel if he would like to spend the night with them. Glorfindel accepted, not feeling like walking back to his usual dwelling place.
As Glorfindel made his way to the guest room, he heard voices arguing. Walking further down the spacious hallway, he came upon Finrod, engaged in a heated argument with his son.
"Father, I came of age centuries ago," Gildor said, frustration in his voice. "I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions."
"You know not what awaits you in Middle Earth," Finrod retorted. "It is full of sorrow and pain. No sane Elf would wish to return there from Valinor."
"Middle Earth is not the same as when you dwelt there. It is much more peaceful there now. Morgoth is gone."
"Yes, but many of his creatures still remain."
"All I want to do is experience life there," Gildor pleaded. "You lived there for many years, ruling your own kingdom, and you have said yourself what a beautiful land it is. I will live in Valinor for the rest of my extremely long life, and I wish to know what Middle Earth is like. There is still a High King of the Noldor there, and I would take service with him."
"You know not what you speak of," Finrod said fiercely.
"If you could choose again whether to follow F?anor to Middle Earth or stay in Valinor, would you change your decision?" Gildor replied, looking his father straight in the eye.
Finrod hesitated for a moment and then sighing in defeat, admitted, "Given the chance, I would choose as I did before."
Gildor remained silent, having made his point, but Finrod, catching sight of Glorfindel, made one more desperate attempt to convince his son. "Glorfindel! Please tell my son that he is making a mistake in wishing to go to Middle Earth!"
Glorfindel looked at Gildor, and once again was caught by the intensity in those eyes. Swallowing slightly, Glorfindel wondered if wishing to experience Middle Earth was the sole reason Gildor wished to go.
"Perhaps we should discuss this again in the morning when everyone has had a chance to sleep on it," Glorfindel heard himself say.
"A good idea," Finrod nodded in relief.
Bidding each other good night, the three Elves separated to go to their respective rooms.
Year 700, Second Age
A golden-haired Elf stood on a cliff, hands clasped behind his back, the ocean breeze lifting tendrils of his hair, curling them around his throat and face. He noticed none of this, though, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the horizon as if he could see the lands that lay there to the East. Foam capped waves crashed against the base of the cliff in a constant rhythm. The water droplets of the spray hung suspended for a moment in the air, sparkling like the gems of the Noldor, before falling back down to rejoin with the sea.
Another Elf came up noiselessly up behind him and stood for a moment his gaze following the other's to see what so captivated him. Understanding came across his face and he reached out with his mind to the Elf in front of him. A touch of comfort.
"Finrod," the golden-haired Elf greeted, turning around and meeting the gray-blue eyes of the Elf who had come up behind him.
"You leave tomorrow?" Finrod asked, sorrow in his wise eyes.
"Yes," the Elf replied, turning around to face the sea again.
"I will miss you, Glorfindel." Finrod laid a hand on the Elf's shoulder.
"And I you, meldir," Glorfindel replied, smiling at the Elf whose hair was the same golden color as his own, a result of their Vanyar heritage.
"You will tell my sister I am well?"
"I will."
"Thank you. I realize that you and she never got along very well," Finrod said knowingly.
"I hope it wasn't that obvious," Glorfindel groaned, covering his eyes with a hand.
"No, no, it wasn't," Finrod laughed. "I just know my sister too well, and I could tell when she didn't particularly care for someone. I know you just as well now, and I can sense your dislike when anyone talks about her."
"My apologies, meldir," Glorfindel murmured. "I do not mean to infer anything about your sister."
"Don't apologize. I know my sister can sometimes be difficult to get along with."
Silence fell between the two of them as they stared out at the sea. At length, Finrod broke the silence again.
"I don't envy you, Glorfindel. Though some of my kin yet dwell there, I have no wish to return to Middle Earth. I gave my life there before, and I have no desire to do so again."
"You deserve your rest, my friend," Glorfindel smiled slightly. "My work is not yet finished, though. I have foreseen that I have some part yet to play there, and my fate is interwoven with the descendents of Turgon; as it has been since I first took service with the son of Fingolfin. I will return here, but not for centuries."
"Come away from the sea," Finrod urged, grabbing Glorfindel's hand and pulling him back towards the city. "You will see Middle Earth soon enough, but come back for now. Spend your last day in company with your Noldor and Vanyar kin, for you will not see them for some time after this. My wife, Amari?, and my son, Gildor, also wish to see you again before you leave."
"I will come," Glorfindel said, taking a last look at the sea before following Finrod back to his house in Tirion on Tuna.
A feast was held in the evening with Glorfindel as the guest of honor. Many Noldor and Vanyar attended the feast, to say farewell to the much beloved Elf. So many Elves were in attendance, that the whole affair was conducted outside so there would be enough room. After a sumptuous feast of many different foods, a few Elves took out instruments and began to tune them.
"Now it is time for the dance," Finrod whispered in Glorfindel's ear. "The music is wonderful, but I must grudgingly admit that it will never be as beautiful as it was when Maglor's music rang through the hills and vales of Valinor."
"I wonder what has become of Maglor?" Glorfindel said, leaning back thoughtfully in his chair.
"Maybe you can search him out when you return to Middle Earth," Finrod replied, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm afraid it would not be good for his health if we met."
Finrod shook his head and stood up, reaching down to pull Glorfindel out of his chair. "We will not discuss such things now. Come, join the dance!"
A single Elf was standing in the center of the gathering, his skillful fingers playing a quick yet haunting melody on a violin. Behind him, drums beat out a rhythm and a flute played harmony to the violin's melody. The rhythm was one of the forest and conjured up images of tall oaks and the more slender birches and alders. The moon painted the scene with silver light as Elves danced through the trees. Glorfindel could feel his heartbeat synchronize with the drums and the rhythm seemed to course through his veins. Abandoning himself to the flow he joined the other Elves in the passionate dance. As the Elves joined into partners, Glorfindel found himself paired with Gildor, the golden-haired son of Finrod. Clasping one hand, Glorfindel led him in the wild, free dance. As the dance ended, the two turned to each other, breathing hard, their cheeks slightly flushed.
"Thank you for the dance," Glorfindel said, inclining his head slightly, and then looking back up to meet the eyes of Gildor, who was scant centimeters shorter than him.
The intensity of the look Gildor focused on him startled Glorfindel. The Elf lord was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, and the fact that their hands were still clasped together. Gildor's hand suddenly seemed very hot, and the touch sent fire racing through Glorfindel's nerves. Gildor now reached up his other hand and lightly brushed Glorfindel's jawline with the tips of his fingers. The contact sent tingles down his spine, and Glorfindel drew in a quick breath. He reached up to stop Gildor's hand, but found that the fingers had wandered downward and were now brushing over his throat. This was too much for Glorfindel, and he wrenched his hand out of Gildor's grasp before turning and striding hurriedly in the other direction.
Reclaiming his earlier abandoned seat, the Elf lord stared off broodingly into the night sky. 'Why did I react in such a way to him?' Glorfindel wondered in amazement and irritation. 'I am not some inexperienced elfling, and I have gently rejected others before with no problems.' Looking about him, Glorfindel saw no sign of Gildor and with a pang of guilt, hoped he hadn't driven off the younger Elf. Deciding to forget the incident and enjoy the rest of his last evening in Valinor, Glorfindel turned to conversation with a raven-haired Noldor seated next to him. Glorfindel was one of the few Elves wholeheartedly accepted by most of both the Vanyar and the Noldor. The Noldor tended to distance themselves from the Vanyar because they believed that the Vanyar held themselves higher than the rest of the Elves. The Vanyar found the Noldor to be strange in their love of craft and the night, as well as their independent streak that had caused them to rebel against the Valar centuries earlier. Despite the fact that Glorfindel was Vanyar, he had taken service with a Noldorin lord, and gained the trust and love of that people.
A little later, Glorfindel saw Gildor reappear and felt relief pass through him. The younger Elf seemed to be doing fine, talking and smiling with a group of Noldor kinsmen. Finrod reappeared at Glorfindel's side, and the two spent the rest of the time reminiscing on old memories, along with a group of Noldor that had joined them. A few of the Vanyar gathered around as well, having never experienced any of what the Noldor discussed; eager to listen to the deeds that had been written about in song and were sung still in Valinor. Glorfindel noticed that Gildor had joined the group, and he studiously avoided making eye contact with the son of Finrod.
When the torches began to burn low, many of the Elves began to make their way back to their respective homes. On their way, they stopped and said farewell to Glorfindel, wishing him success and the blessing of the Valar on his journey. When most of the Elves had departed, Finrod asked Glorfindel if he would like to spend the night with them. Glorfindel accepted, not feeling like walking back to his usual dwelling place.
As Glorfindel made his way to the guest room, he heard voices arguing. Walking further down the spacious hallway, he came upon Finrod, engaged in a heated argument with his son.
"Father, I came of age centuries ago," Gildor said, frustration in his voice. "I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions."
"You know not what awaits you in Middle Earth," Finrod retorted. "It is full of sorrow and pain. No sane Elf would wish to return there from Valinor."
"Middle Earth is not the same as when you dwelt there. It is much more peaceful there now. Morgoth is gone."
"Yes, but many of his creatures still remain."
"All I want to do is experience life there," Gildor pleaded. "You lived there for many years, ruling your own kingdom, and you have said yourself what a beautiful land it is. I will live in Valinor for the rest of my extremely long life, and I wish to know what Middle Earth is like. There is still a High King of the Noldor there, and I would take service with him."
"You know not what you speak of," Finrod said fiercely.
"If you could choose again whether to follow F?anor to Middle Earth or stay in Valinor, would you change your decision?" Gildor replied, looking his father straight in the eye.
Finrod hesitated for a moment and then sighing in defeat, admitted, "Given the chance, I would choose as I did before."
Gildor remained silent, having made his point, but Finrod, catching sight of Glorfindel, made one more desperate attempt to convince his son. "Glorfindel! Please tell my son that he is making a mistake in wishing to go to Middle Earth!"
Glorfindel looked at Gildor, and once again was caught by the intensity in those eyes. Swallowing slightly, Glorfindel wondered if wishing to experience Middle Earth was the sole reason Gildor wished to go.
"Perhaps we should discuss this again in the morning when everyone has had a chance to sleep on it," Glorfindel heard himself say.
"A good idea," Finrod nodded in relief.
Bidding each other good night, the three Elves separated to go to their respective rooms.