Chapter 3 - A Song on the Air
Glorfindel took a brush from his pack and began to slide it over Asfaloth's snowy neck. The horse leaned toward him, enjoying the ministrations that his master performed. It was calming and pleasant for them both and the horse sensed that the one brushing him needed the comfort of it more than he did. Though he appeared serene on the surface, the Elf was beginning to feel somewhat apprehensive about what was to happen. It had been easy not to dwell on it when he had been in Imladris as so many other things there occupied his mind and his time, but now as they were nearing their destination he felt somewhat anxious. On the morrow he would be meeting for the first time the one he would marry. They would take part in the exchanging of silver rings in the betrothal ceremony, then one year would pass before the actual nuptials would take place.
I would rather get this over quickly, he thought wearily, stroking Asfaloth's nose as he moved to the other side. To wait yet another year. He sighed heavily, all his years seeming to settle upon him.
As the brush stroked in soft circles over the horse's skin, Glorfindel rested his head against the animal, the fingers of his free hand twining in the long soft mane. Asfaloth nickered slightly and rubbed his head against his master's, offering what solace he could.
Elrond, who had already seen to his own horse, watched his old friend well aware of the way Glorfindel was feeling. It was expressed in the way he stood, the tilt of his head, the grip of his fingers on Asfaloth's mane. He had known Glorfindel since the Second Age when Glorfindel had come, a legend reborn, to aid them against the Shadow. During that time Elrond had come to love and respect the tall, quiet Eldar on whom he depended for sound judgment and wise counsel. The strong bond of friendship bound them now as closely as brothers in blood.
The Lord of Imladris moved to help Curon prepare their last camp. Tellenlagor was seeing to their two horses and unloading the bedrolls. Elladan and Elrohir were unrolling the banners for the "grand procession" on the morrow. Elrond could hear their quiet amused comments as they shook the stiff silk out and smoothed it as best they could under the present circumstances. The packhorse had been unloaded and attended to and was standing a few feet away with the other animals cropping the green grass of the clearing. It had rolled in the grass, wriggling and waving its long legs in the air, glad to be rid of the baskets that it had borne. Glorfindel's bush had been set on the ground in the shade, its silver bells filling the air with sweet music.
Curon's gaze followed his lord's and rested on Glorfindel as well. He had never seen his tutor of old appear anything but calm and self- assured. The Elf remembered his own betrothal and the feelings of trepidation and diffidence that had accompanied it.
I knew my beloved well and wished for our joining, he thought in sympathy. I cannot imagine wedding someone in this manner. He shook his head and moved to make a fire in the center of the small campsite.
When Glorfindel had finished with Asfaloth, the horse trotted away to join his fellows, whickering greetings to one another. Glorfindel moved to place the brush in his pack once more, his eyes falling on the bush. Would she truly appreciate what he was giving to her? Would she understand what it meant to him? This sort of gift was not given lightly and he prayed that she would appreciate its worth. His brows furrowed with worry. He took a flask of water and poured it into the basket that the bush rested in, running his slender fingers over a spray of blossoms.
"Ai, Elbereth," he breathed, the flowers intoxicating scent filling his nostrils. As it always had the fragrance filled his mind with memories of the land of his home. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander as they would. Perhaps someday he could tell her of Gondolin and its beauties long gone. But then the sound of the twin's laughter broke into his reverie and he opened his eyes, seeing not the white towers of Gondolin, but Eryn Lasgalen's tall oaks and beech-trees.
I did not feel this much trepidation when I faced the Balrog, he thought wryly, wondering how the fair Sindarin princess would feel about the comparison. But then I had not time to think. I merely acted.
Slowly he moved from the bush to join the others, his fingers trailing one last time over the soft bell shaped flowers, their chiming filling his ears. He glanced at his banner rising upright from the ground. It bore the symbol of his House Los' loriol the Golden Flower.
In his mind's eye he could see a similar one snapping above the battlefield of Anfauglith, the once grassy plain of Ard Galen north of Dorthonion, during the fifth battle in the Wars of Beleriand in the First Age, That beautiful region had been destroyed by Melkor's forces during the Dagor Bragollach, the fourth of the great Wars. It was in the battle that Fingolfin fell, his body returned to his sonTurgon of Gondolin by the great eagle Thorondor. It was at Anfauglith during Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, that Turgon joined the Union of Maehdros. Glorfindel had followed Turgon his King into battle and if not for sacrifice of Hurin, Huor, and the Third House of the Edain Turgon's forces would have been slaughtered. The banner had flown over the plain of Dagorlad just north of Gorgoroth in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Its colors had shown proudly when Glorfindel had led a company from Rivendell to aid Cirdan and Earnur of Gondor to defeat the Witch-king at the Battle of Fornost.
He turned from it, pushing memories away like so many irritating cobwebs. He needed to prepare for his future, not recall his long gone past. Why think of battles now when he should be turning his thoughts to matters of the heart not the hand. The banner would fly on the morrow as he arrived at Thranduil's palace to look on his bride to be for the first time. He would not be facing the Enemy's armies this time, merely an Elf maiden of tender years, when compared to his own, so why these thoughts of battle?
"Elbereth give me the strength to endure this battle," he breathed, smiling wryly. "For a battle it will be I fear, though not of the kind I am used to."
"Will you sing something for us, Lord Glorfindel?" Elrohir asked after their meal.
The Elves sat on the ground as crickets fiddled in the darkness just beyond the light of their small fire. Glorfindel's gaze went to the heavens, which always had afforded him a measure of peace. Earendil shone brightly overhead.
Our symbol of hope, he thought watching it twinkle in the dark velvet of the night sky. The words of a song sighed through his mind.
"Earendel arose where the shadow flows At Ocean's silent brim; Through the mouth of night as a ray of light Where the shores are sheer and dim He launched his bark like a silver spark From the last and lonely sand; Then on sunlit breath of day's fiery death He sailed from Westerland." *
He recalled young Earendil, so vibrant, beautiful, and bright; exhibiting the best qualities of both his revered parents. Here with him this night were Earendil's son and grandsons. He smiled softly looking at his lord and the twins. He loved them as deeply as he had loved Tuor the Edain and Idril, the beautiful daughter of Turgon, and of course their shining son. Ever he would serve their family in honor and contentment. Quietly he began to sing, his melodious voice blending with the night's own symphony.
Laerlend had moved ahead of Legolas and Gimli. Earlier the two Elves had dashed through the trees laughing and playing like children, rejoicing under Elbereth's stars. But now they were merely walking at a more leisurely pace seeing that Gimli's shorter legs could not keep up with their longer ones. Legolas walked beside the Dwarf, the two speaking in hushed tones together. She marveled at the differences in their voices: her brother's a lower pitched tenor; Gimli's a deeper rumbling bass. Two such variant creatures should not have become the fast friends that they were, but Laerlend knew that Gimli was something quite special and the thought of her own friendship with him warmed her heart. She smiled as they moved nearly soundless behind her. Since the Dwarf had abandoned his chain mail he was nearly as soundlessly as an Elf, something that seemed to amuse him highly.
She trailed her fingers through the leaves of the oak tree as she walked beneath it in gentle greeting. The night was glorious and not to be wasted listening to songs of past valor no matter how heroic. She skipped lightly ahead, humming to herself, the grass cool beneath her feet. It was then that she heard the voice.
It was a clear pleasant baritone voice, unlike any she had heard before. It drifted delicately through the trees, mingling with the night sounds rising in one perfect song before Elbereth. She paused listening to the sound with rising joy. It was a song of Earendil.
"The Ship of the Moon from the East comes soon From the Haven of the Sun, Whose white gates gleam in the coming beam Of the mighty silver one. Lo! with bellying clouds as his vessel's shrouds He weighs anchor down the dark, And on shimmering oars leaves the blazing shores In his argent-timbered bark." *
As he sang she stood in silence, closing her eyes with pleasure at the sound of the voice and the words it formed. She didn't hear Legolas or Gimli come to stand behind her. The two exchanged curious glances as she suddenly tucked her long robes into the slender silver belt at her slim waist and leapt into the trees.
Legolas shook his head as he watched his sister walk expertly from branch to branch, stirring them hardly more than a light summer breeze would. When she disappeared from sight he gazed down at his companion who was smiling with tender amusement.
"You know who is singing, don't you?" He asked Gimli.
"Aye, I have heard him sing before though rarely. So they have arrived." His smile widened to a grin. "Your sister seems rather anxious to meet him now."
"I don't think she realizes whom it is that she hears. Let us go see for ourselves what may happen. We shall also see just how silently you have learned to tread."
The two grinned and hurried toward the sound of the voice.
Author's Notes
The song Glorfindel sang is "The Last Voyage of Earendel". For the rest of the poem, its history, and its relationship to Earendil please read the section "The Tale of Earendel" in the "Book of Lost Tales II". Tolkien recalls that in 1914 he wrote a poem "on" Earendel who launched his ship like a bright spark from the havens of the Sun. He adopted him into his own mythology as a mariner, then a herald star, and a sign of hope to men. Thus Earendel becomes Earendil.
The Battles of Beleriand can be found in "The Silmarillion" (see chapter 18 - "Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin"; chapter 20 - "Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad".
The history of Middle Earth is very rich and powerful. For more in depth reading there are the History of Middle Earth books edited by Christopher Tolkien. They are a fascinating read!
Thanks to my beta reader alliwantisanelfforchristmas. Go check out her little romp "Elvish Lessons". 'Tis a fun read!
Also check out another Glorfindel romance by LOTR lover: "Anticipation". For another great read on Glorfindel, try Soledad's "A Tale of Never-ending Love".
Thank you to everyone that read "Whisper of the Eagle's Wings". I won't be responding to you on that one since that one is finished, a rare first for me! I truly appreciated the reviews. Thank you so much!
Response to Reviewers
LOTR lover - Yes, another Glory romance. Mine is a request from a friend for a birthday present so I am obliging her to the best of my ability. Just give Laerlend a chance. The poor child is a bit overwhelmed at present. Don't worry she will come to her senses in time! The request was for a reluctant bride and so she is reluctant.
angaloth - Yes. We have to love that Legolas!! ( We can't seem to do without him, can we!
Jessica - Never fear. Laerlend will come to her senses. She doesn't know him like we do. We wouldn't wait for him to arrive, we would run to meet him! I have been calling him Glory for some time now. It seemed appropriate! Good luck at college! It may not be Middle Earth, but it is an adventure!
Annabell - Glorfindel is very old. And, yes. He was slain by a Balrog during the fall of Gondolin. But Eru in his great wisdom gave him his life again and after a time spent in Mandos' Halls and the Blessed Realm he returned to Middle Earth probably in the Second Age to aid Gil-galad and Elrond when Sauron's rising evil intentions became known to them. All this information can be found in "The People's of Middle Earth". It has a wonderful section on Glorfindel!
Irena - I am glad to see that I am not the only person who gets annoyed with hearing the praises of someone over and over. You start to resent that person even though you don't know them. Laerlend is exactly like that. Thank you for getting it!
alliwantisanelfforchristmas - I liked the Goldilocks nickname myself. It is fitting since his name means "golden-haired" or "golden tresses". It would appear that many females want to be Legolas! ( Or at least have him live in their closet!!
Nancing Elf - I updated and I am very slow lately for which I am very sorry. I will try to do better if my muses will cooperate. Indeed Laerlend cannot escape from songs and poems about the Golden One. I am glad that you and Gwibess Jr. liked the appearance of Legolas! How big is she anyway?? I like the grumbling Gimli. He is too sweet! I am so excited to hear that you want to write a Voronwe story! I can't wait for it to appear! He is one cool Elf..is there any other kind??!! Of course the other Legolas Greenleaf should be in it. Sounds too divine!
Artanis - I am glad you liked the lightheartedness of that last chapter. But all will not stay lighthearted. (TreeHugger groans at the forthcoming angst that will have to be written!) Perhaps she should marry Gimli. That would be..interesting! She is very naughty and stupid! Go and get him, girl! She is so lucky and she doesn't even know it!
Glorfindel took a brush from his pack and began to slide it over Asfaloth's snowy neck. The horse leaned toward him, enjoying the ministrations that his master performed. It was calming and pleasant for them both and the horse sensed that the one brushing him needed the comfort of it more than he did. Though he appeared serene on the surface, the Elf was beginning to feel somewhat apprehensive about what was to happen. It had been easy not to dwell on it when he had been in Imladris as so many other things there occupied his mind and his time, but now as they were nearing their destination he felt somewhat anxious. On the morrow he would be meeting for the first time the one he would marry. They would take part in the exchanging of silver rings in the betrothal ceremony, then one year would pass before the actual nuptials would take place.
I would rather get this over quickly, he thought wearily, stroking Asfaloth's nose as he moved to the other side. To wait yet another year. He sighed heavily, all his years seeming to settle upon him.
As the brush stroked in soft circles over the horse's skin, Glorfindel rested his head against the animal, the fingers of his free hand twining in the long soft mane. Asfaloth nickered slightly and rubbed his head against his master's, offering what solace he could.
Elrond, who had already seen to his own horse, watched his old friend well aware of the way Glorfindel was feeling. It was expressed in the way he stood, the tilt of his head, the grip of his fingers on Asfaloth's mane. He had known Glorfindel since the Second Age when Glorfindel had come, a legend reborn, to aid them against the Shadow. During that time Elrond had come to love and respect the tall, quiet Eldar on whom he depended for sound judgment and wise counsel. The strong bond of friendship bound them now as closely as brothers in blood.
The Lord of Imladris moved to help Curon prepare their last camp. Tellenlagor was seeing to their two horses and unloading the bedrolls. Elladan and Elrohir were unrolling the banners for the "grand procession" on the morrow. Elrond could hear their quiet amused comments as they shook the stiff silk out and smoothed it as best they could under the present circumstances. The packhorse had been unloaded and attended to and was standing a few feet away with the other animals cropping the green grass of the clearing. It had rolled in the grass, wriggling and waving its long legs in the air, glad to be rid of the baskets that it had borne. Glorfindel's bush had been set on the ground in the shade, its silver bells filling the air with sweet music.
Curon's gaze followed his lord's and rested on Glorfindel as well. He had never seen his tutor of old appear anything but calm and self- assured. The Elf remembered his own betrothal and the feelings of trepidation and diffidence that had accompanied it.
I knew my beloved well and wished for our joining, he thought in sympathy. I cannot imagine wedding someone in this manner. He shook his head and moved to make a fire in the center of the small campsite.
When Glorfindel had finished with Asfaloth, the horse trotted away to join his fellows, whickering greetings to one another. Glorfindel moved to place the brush in his pack once more, his eyes falling on the bush. Would she truly appreciate what he was giving to her? Would she understand what it meant to him? This sort of gift was not given lightly and he prayed that she would appreciate its worth. His brows furrowed with worry. He took a flask of water and poured it into the basket that the bush rested in, running his slender fingers over a spray of blossoms.
"Ai, Elbereth," he breathed, the flowers intoxicating scent filling his nostrils. As it always had the fragrance filled his mind with memories of the land of his home. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander as they would. Perhaps someday he could tell her of Gondolin and its beauties long gone. But then the sound of the twin's laughter broke into his reverie and he opened his eyes, seeing not the white towers of Gondolin, but Eryn Lasgalen's tall oaks and beech-trees.
I did not feel this much trepidation when I faced the Balrog, he thought wryly, wondering how the fair Sindarin princess would feel about the comparison. But then I had not time to think. I merely acted.
Slowly he moved from the bush to join the others, his fingers trailing one last time over the soft bell shaped flowers, their chiming filling his ears. He glanced at his banner rising upright from the ground. It bore the symbol of his House Los' loriol the Golden Flower.
In his mind's eye he could see a similar one snapping above the battlefield of Anfauglith, the once grassy plain of Ard Galen north of Dorthonion, during the fifth battle in the Wars of Beleriand in the First Age, That beautiful region had been destroyed by Melkor's forces during the Dagor Bragollach, the fourth of the great Wars. It was in the battle that Fingolfin fell, his body returned to his sonTurgon of Gondolin by the great eagle Thorondor. It was at Anfauglith during Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, that Turgon joined the Union of Maehdros. Glorfindel had followed Turgon his King into battle and if not for sacrifice of Hurin, Huor, and the Third House of the Edain Turgon's forces would have been slaughtered. The banner had flown over the plain of Dagorlad just north of Gorgoroth in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Its colors had shown proudly when Glorfindel had led a company from Rivendell to aid Cirdan and Earnur of Gondor to defeat the Witch-king at the Battle of Fornost.
He turned from it, pushing memories away like so many irritating cobwebs. He needed to prepare for his future, not recall his long gone past. Why think of battles now when he should be turning his thoughts to matters of the heart not the hand. The banner would fly on the morrow as he arrived at Thranduil's palace to look on his bride to be for the first time. He would not be facing the Enemy's armies this time, merely an Elf maiden of tender years, when compared to his own, so why these thoughts of battle?
"Elbereth give me the strength to endure this battle," he breathed, smiling wryly. "For a battle it will be I fear, though not of the kind I am used to."
"Will you sing something for us, Lord Glorfindel?" Elrohir asked after their meal.
The Elves sat on the ground as crickets fiddled in the darkness just beyond the light of their small fire. Glorfindel's gaze went to the heavens, which always had afforded him a measure of peace. Earendil shone brightly overhead.
Our symbol of hope, he thought watching it twinkle in the dark velvet of the night sky. The words of a song sighed through his mind.
"Earendel arose where the shadow flows At Ocean's silent brim; Through the mouth of night as a ray of light Where the shores are sheer and dim He launched his bark like a silver spark From the last and lonely sand; Then on sunlit breath of day's fiery death He sailed from Westerland." *
He recalled young Earendil, so vibrant, beautiful, and bright; exhibiting the best qualities of both his revered parents. Here with him this night were Earendil's son and grandsons. He smiled softly looking at his lord and the twins. He loved them as deeply as he had loved Tuor the Edain and Idril, the beautiful daughter of Turgon, and of course their shining son. Ever he would serve their family in honor and contentment. Quietly he began to sing, his melodious voice blending with the night's own symphony.
Laerlend had moved ahead of Legolas and Gimli. Earlier the two Elves had dashed through the trees laughing and playing like children, rejoicing under Elbereth's stars. But now they were merely walking at a more leisurely pace seeing that Gimli's shorter legs could not keep up with their longer ones. Legolas walked beside the Dwarf, the two speaking in hushed tones together. She marveled at the differences in their voices: her brother's a lower pitched tenor; Gimli's a deeper rumbling bass. Two such variant creatures should not have become the fast friends that they were, but Laerlend knew that Gimli was something quite special and the thought of her own friendship with him warmed her heart. She smiled as they moved nearly soundless behind her. Since the Dwarf had abandoned his chain mail he was nearly as soundlessly as an Elf, something that seemed to amuse him highly.
She trailed her fingers through the leaves of the oak tree as she walked beneath it in gentle greeting. The night was glorious and not to be wasted listening to songs of past valor no matter how heroic. She skipped lightly ahead, humming to herself, the grass cool beneath her feet. It was then that she heard the voice.
It was a clear pleasant baritone voice, unlike any she had heard before. It drifted delicately through the trees, mingling with the night sounds rising in one perfect song before Elbereth. She paused listening to the sound with rising joy. It was a song of Earendil.
"The Ship of the Moon from the East comes soon From the Haven of the Sun, Whose white gates gleam in the coming beam Of the mighty silver one. Lo! with bellying clouds as his vessel's shrouds He weighs anchor down the dark, And on shimmering oars leaves the blazing shores In his argent-timbered bark." *
As he sang she stood in silence, closing her eyes with pleasure at the sound of the voice and the words it formed. She didn't hear Legolas or Gimli come to stand behind her. The two exchanged curious glances as she suddenly tucked her long robes into the slender silver belt at her slim waist and leapt into the trees.
Legolas shook his head as he watched his sister walk expertly from branch to branch, stirring them hardly more than a light summer breeze would. When she disappeared from sight he gazed down at his companion who was smiling with tender amusement.
"You know who is singing, don't you?" He asked Gimli.
"Aye, I have heard him sing before though rarely. So they have arrived." His smile widened to a grin. "Your sister seems rather anxious to meet him now."
"I don't think she realizes whom it is that she hears. Let us go see for ourselves what may happen. We shall also see just how silently you have learned to tread."
The two grinned and hurried toward the sound of the voice.
Author's Notes
The song Glorfindel sang is "The Last Voyage of Earendel". For the rest of the poem, its history, and its relationship to Earendil please read the section "The Tale of Earendel" in the "Book of Lost Tales II". Tolkien recalls that in 1914 he wrote a poem "on" Earendel who launched his ship like a bright spark from the havens of the Sun. He adopted him into his own mythology as a mariner, then a herald star, and a sign of hope to men. Thus Earendel becomes Earendil.
The Battles of Beleriand can be found in "The Silmarillion" (see chapter 18 - "Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin"; chapter 20 - "Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad".
The history of Middle Earth is very rich and powerful. For more in depth reading there are the History of Middle Earth books edited by Christopher Tolkien. They are a fascinating read!
Thanks to my beta reader alliwantisanelfforchristmas. Go check out her little romp "Elvish Lessons". 'Tis a fun read!
Also check out another Glorfindel romance by LOTR lover: "Anticipation". For another great read on Glorfindel, try Soledad's "A Tale of Never-ending Love".
Thank you to everyone that read "Whisper of the Eagle's Wings". I won't be responding to you on that one since that one is finished, a rare first for me! I truly appreciated the reviews. Thank you so much!
Response to Reviewers
LOTR lover - Yes, another Glory romance. Mine is a request from a friend for a birthday present so I am obliging her to the best of my ability. Just give Laerlend a chance. The poor child is a bit overwhelmed at present. Don't worry she will come to her senses in time! The request was for a reluctant bride and so she is reluctant.
angaloth - Yes. We have to love that Legolas!! ( We can't seem to do without him, can we!
Jessica - Never fear. Laerlend will come to her senses. She doesn't know him like we do. We wouldn't wait for him to arrive, we would run to meet him! I have been calling him Glory for some time now. It seemed appropriate! Good luck at college! It may not be Middle Earth, but it is an adventure!
Annabell - Glorfindel is very old. And, yes. He was slain by a Balrog during the fall of Gondolin. But Eru in his great wisdom gave him his life again and after a time spent in Mandos' Halls and the Blessed Realm he returned to Middle Earth probably in the Second Age to aid Gil-galad and Elrond when Sauron's rising evil intentions became known to them. All this information can be found in "The People's of Middle Earth". It has a wonderful section on Glorfindel!
Irena - I am glad to see that I am not the only person who gets annoyed with hearing the praises of someone over and over. You start to resent that person even though you don't know them. Laerlend is exactly like that. Thank you for getting it!
alliwantisanelfforchristmas - I liked the Goldilocks nickname myself. It is fitting since his name means "golden-haired" or "golden tresses". It would appear that many females want to be Legolas! ( Or at least have him live in their closet!!
Nancing Elf - I updated and I am very slow lately for which I am very sorry. I will try to do better if my muses will cooperate. Indeed Laerlend cannot escape from songs and poems about the Golden One. I am glad that you and Gwibess Jr. liked the appearance of Legolas! How big is she anyway?? I like the grumbling Gimli. He is too sweet! I am so excited to hear that you want to write a Voronwe story! I can't wait for it to appear! He is one cool Elf..is there any other kind??!! Of course the other Legolas Greenleaf should be in it. Sounds too divine!
Artanis - I am glad you liked the lightheartedness of that last chapter. But all will not stay lighthearted. (TreeHugger groans at the forthcoming angst that will have to be written!) Perhaps she should marry Gimli. That would be..interesting! She is very naughty and stupid! Go and get him, girl! She is so lucky and she doesn't even know it!