New stuff again. Chopped into chapters because...geez, that last one was WAY too long
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Bright sun, warming his face, gleaming against the white of the city. The flapping snap of flags catching the breeze, proudly riding the winds like the great eagles that winged over the city, guarding and protecting their allies.
He came up here often at dawn, to watch the sun rise over the Crissaegrim. Watching the eagles take wing, soaring effortlessly through the skies.
Wind Lords indeed. Equals with the Elves they watched over, honoured as such.
Glorfindel counted himself fortunate for having met the great ones more than once. He'd even had a chance to converse, if haltingly, to a young male.
They had a magnificent fierceness and freedom about them he loved, and never tired of watching them.
Today though... Today, he had no time to climb the peaks and visit with eagle friends.
His sister and brother had plans that involved him, Lalwendë, a grassy plain and a quiet day spent away from Court. They wanted to speak to him about something, no doubt. Probably some thing or another coming up that they wished to have their Chief's support behind.
Raising his eyes to the green flag dancing in the bright sunshine, the golden flower blazed on the emerald depths, beams radiating out from it, Glorfindel chuckled.
A Vanyar amongst the Nodlor Nobles, he was indeed a bit of an oddity.
He'd thrown in his lot with them, although extremely reluctant to do so, and now... Well, there would be no returning home, would there?
Not now.
Maybe never. Not a kinslayer, he was, nevertheless, exiled. Not banned as such, but with no clear avenue of return either.
Others counted on him. Looked to him to lead. Loyal to those beyond any doubt, he grew weary of pretense at times, though he excelled at it. Court demanded a certain behaviour, and he knew the game well. Played it with a skill few others matched.
Yet at times, especially early morning, he looked West. Wondered what his father and mother were doing on the great white slopes of Taniquetil. If they looked east, longing for the children that had left, against their better advice.
Longed for the gentle sound of his mother's voice, the robust laughter of his father. For the sweet perfume that filled the air.
He longed for home.
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So much was wrong.
Changed.
Had it truly been so long?
Glorfindel sat at the table in Bronwe's small kitchen, tracing a finger lightly over the parchment before him.
Remembered a time when land occupied much of the spaces now coloured blue. When Lindon had not been on the ocean, but inland.
The Valar giveth, the Valar taketh away.
Rather grim smile for that. He knew better than most just how capricious the nature of those powers could seem.
They had intervened. To stop Melkor. Morgoth.
Well. He and his siblings had come to Arda too soon, hadn't they? If they'd had more patience… Ai. He recalled cautioning them, arguing not to go. To stay in Aman.
Shook his head for the stubbornness of his brother and sister, long since returned to Aman…he hoped. It comforted him to think his parents were reunited with at least two of their wayward children.
And Lal. Beautiful, stubborn..willful, Lalwendë.
Glorfindel let his head fall forward, hair falling in a silken curtain of gold around his face. Felt the ache of their loss as though it was only yesterday.
In his mind, it was.
But time had continued on without him. Changing. The days, weeks…hundreds of years, spent in Mandos' Halls seeming an eternity.
Mandos' idea of conversation was extremely uncomfortable rounds of questions meant to scour a soul down to its very barest existence. The Valier wasn't cruel. None of them were. They loved the children of Iluvatar. Mandos had a duty. To pare away the layers living heaped on a fea, so that only the beauty of the unadorned soul lay bare.
In truth it hadn't been all that long. Certainly not as long as it felt at the time, but then time spent with Mandos was never truly pleasant.
Long enough for an entire land to sink beneath the waves, taking with it the places he had walked, now alive only in his memory.
Stranger in a familiar land, returning home to a landscape utterly different from that he had known.
It was enough to make his head throb.
Heard the pad of bare feet, but didn't look up. There was only one other person in the cottage, and he was only surprised it had taken her this long to discover him up and about.
Not that she was overpowering. Like Elrond she had a knack for knowing when he wanted to be left alone, or not. An uncanny sense for his moods, and respecting them.
Squinting against the light of the lamp, Bronwe peering sleepily at him. "You don't sleep much, do you?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued behind him, to the fire. Stirred it with a stick, adding several pieces of wood to the coals.
As the flames caught and grew, she gestured to the lamp. "Douse that, please?"
He did, looking at her curiously. She didn't look as though she'd slept much herself. "Did I wake you?"
Bronwe shook her head, grabbing a brass kettle and filling it with water from a pitcher. Setting the kettle on a hook over the flames, she moved past him to the cupboard. "No. I…" Waved a hand in a vague gesture. Pulled down two mugs and a tea pot, setting them on the table. "Are you hungry?" Wry smile as his eyes lit in interest. "That's a silly question, isn't it?"
Glorfindel had to grin. Food was something he wouldn't take for granted anymore. Or at least, not for a long time to come. It was the sensory things he had missed most, though he only realized it once he was back. Closing his eyes at reliving the memory of the ocean water on his new skin. Shivered slightly.
Opened his eyes at her small chuckle, cocking his head curiously.
She shook her head and set a loaf of homemade bread, and a pot of honey on the table. Careful not to get either on the map. Sat down across from him, leaning back against the wall to run a hand through her hair.
Glorfindel opened the tea pot and peered inside. "No tea." Waved her down as she started to get up. "Where it is?"
"Is it," she corrected automatically. "In the pantry, third shelf, left side." Watched to be certain he didn't confuse any of the herbs there with tea.
Knowing look for her careful watching as he returned, dumping tea leaves into the pot. Took the rest back and returned to sit.
"Don't use bare hands," she warned as the kettle began to steam.
With a grimace he pulled down his sleeve and used that to grab the kettle. Poured water into the tea pot and set the kettle on the right side of the fireplace. Dropped the top back on the tea pot and looked up to find his companion's eyes closed, head lolled to the side.
It didn't look like a very comfortable place to nap. Leaning forward, he lightly touched her shoulder. "Go back," he said, gesturing to the stairs that led to the rooms as her eyes opened.
Bronwe wrinkled her nose, yawning and sitting up. "No." Sighed, fingers tracing the swirling forest green pattern on the mugs. She looked up finally, shaking her head. "Memories must be walking abroad tonight." At his mystified expression, she smiled. "My father used to tell me that when I would be woken by dreams." Bit her lip and looked to the window. "He said it meant that our loved ones in Aman were thinking of us, and their thoughts came to us in dreams."
"He is…" Glorfindel didn't recall her mentioning her family, or seeing any of them.
"In Aman." Bronwe nodded. Pursed a lip and sighed. "He and my brothers were killed when…" Shook off something. "When Dior was killed. Mother and I came here eventually and she went on to Aman."
Told tersely. No elaboration. It spoke of a great deal of hurting to him. Glorfindel's attention was drawn to the map again. "Ever see Ents?"
She smiled, light eyes meeting his gaze finally. "Ada took me to see them when I was young." A chuckle for the memory. "It took most of the day to have a conversation with them."
Reaching for the tea pot, she poured some into both mugs. "Don't wait for me, Glor. You've been watching that food since I put it down, so eat."
Like a child caught out, Glorfindel grinned and broke off a chunk of bread, drizzling it with honey. "Mmmmm," he hummed happily as he took a bite.
Bronwe laughed, watching him in amusement. It had been this way with every meal. He had an appreciation for the most basic things, it seemed. A fascination with the way light played on water, or danced through leaves. She'd had to explain to him it wasn't polite to stroke the material of other's clothing when he'd become mesmerized by the pattern on a shopkeeper's tunic. And velvet held an almost undeniable lure for him. Hair was another fascination, though one most elves shared. He had gazed at a lady's undeniably fancy braiding the whole time she'd spoken to Bronwe.
All the plants in the garden behind her cottage had been explored, most of the blossoms touched and sniffed.
Like a child, but unlike a child, he was gentle.
Mostly. It was the impatience that undid him. Things that held still were fine. He could explore those as he wanted. But living, moving things…
The horses in a paddock not too far from Bronwe's cottage had taken exception to his impatience, throwing up their heads and turning to run off. He'd frowned, turning to her with a haughty expression. "Why?"
Laughing at him probably hadn't helped.
Licking the honey from his fingers, Glorfindel looked up to find her watching with an indulgent smile. "Bad manners?"
Bronwe shrugged. "In public, yes. At home, no." She looked away, cradling the mug between her hands. "Círdan is back. I received a message from him yesterday. Would you like to walk to the shipyards later?"
Círdan.
The name tugged at memories. A swirl of faces, the same laughing, dark-haired elf that haunted his dreams…and the memory of singing. Of the sounds of boats moored at long wooden docks, water slapping against the wood. Of Elves singing to twilight and stars.
"I've also received word from a friend…" Bronwe dug the letter out of her tunic shirt. Dressed in a tunic and leggings that obviously belonged to someone of a larger stature, she looked very young. "Ramë is coming to town for a bit."
That name was unfamiliar. Glorfindel picked up his mug, blowing on the tea before drinking. "Go to shipyards in the morning?"
"It is morning." Bronwe grinned, rolling her shoulders. "Círdan is always up with the sun."
"Go now?" He set the mug down, standing up.
"Um…not yet." She blinked, wondering what tasks the shipwright could give her patient to bleed off some of his boundless energy. She had patients to see and had already found that taking Glorfindel with her was not a good idea.
He had the curiosity of one long gone from the world, and asked just about as many unending questions. She found the trait endearing, but not restful for those recovering, or hurt.
There were also his unexpected, sometimes inappropriate, announcements - that someone's bodiced bosom was beautiful, or another's hair reminded him of an eagle's nest.
"Hmm." With a nod, Glorfindel reached up, stretching. "Go pee then."
Bronwe shook her head as he walked out, chuckling to herself. Another thing to add to the list of 'We don't do or say these in public'.
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TBC