I admit. This is possibly the weirdest Glorfindel post I've ever done, and possibly the saddest. Poor Glor, I put him to such problems... As it is, a lot of what he discusses about his past and crimes are mostly my thoughts, and there is a lot of Silm elements here. I'll explain more about things in here in the next post. Sorry for the delay, and hopefully this is good. Thanks for the comments.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Body collapses again; soul wants to break free, pain and numbness one, where is the sea...
Eyes refusing to open, lungs refusing to breathe. Can't give in, can't...
Ground feels so cool, moist, grass brushing my face, whispering of life. Life that I am struggling to keep hold of, and can't.
Rise, please....
Can't....
Dying hurt worse the first time....
But this is truly dying, that was only a rest stop....
Get up...
Arms struggle to push a body too weakened to rise on its own, arms shaking under the strain of such a thin body. Crash once more to the ground, sorrow crushing upon me.
I'm failing, falling, and no one can save me now. Before, before, I had help, now, now I am utterly alone. Ecthelion, I'm sorry my brother....
'Promise me you will go to the Undying Lands after I die.'
Arwen, what if I cannot keep that promise? Do not hold it against me, little one... I pray your brothers will not as well...
Celebrian, Celebrian, I have fulfilled my vow. The last was not alone; I protected them with my soul, until Eru called the last one on. Hopefully your sons are safe within your arms, far from this accursed land.
Idril, my vow... I have given my soul up to your family, and have done what you begged of me at the burning of Gondolin. Cry nevermore, for I never failed you...
Feanor, dear hotheaded friend and enemy, has your thought come true? Has my soul finally burned itself out, long after yours?
'Get up.'
A command.... Who?
Opening my eyes, I look upon the last person I would ever find on Middle Earth, and yet the one foremost in my thoughts since my rebirth.
"Elrond?" I whisper, unable to even rise.
'Nay, an illusion of your thoughts, the last of your will in the only form that can save you. Now get up,' Elrond orders once more.
"I cannot," I answer, caring not that it is only an image from my delirious mind; I need at least one pleasant image before I die.
'Yes you can, you've only given up. Now, get up,' the illusion says, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at me, like Elrond did so at times when he was displeased with me or someone else.
"You always were stubborn..." I sigh, forcing my dying body to my hands and knees once more, but I can do no more, as even if I try to rise further, I would fall once more, and I fear I wouldn't rise.
'Good, that means you are, since I am a piece of your will,' he says, and smirks, 'There is a stream nearby, perhaps you can gain strength after you drink something.'
Sighing once more, I proceed to crawl and drag my body towards the stream he motions to; my senses too weakened to even hear it. My body cries for me to lie back down, and many times I nearly give in, if not for a flash of my illusion of Elrond pushing me on with a look. Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, I finally reach the small stream, and collapse beside it, my strength spent. I don't remember ever being this weak. Yet here I am, barely able to raise my hand....
Closing my eyes, I can feel oblivion at the corners of my mind, waiting patiently to give up my immortal bonds and accept its embracing arms. I find myself wishing ever more for it, though a piece of me still fights, that piece that awoke three weeks ago in ruined Rivendell. But even that piece is succumbing to the weakness and heart sickness within me. It's only a matter of time...
'Glorfindel, get up, drink something,' Elrond's voice seems to be coming from a long way off, and for once, I ignore that voice, sinking deeper into myself.
'Glorfindel! Please!' funny, my illusion sounds so much like Elrond that it hurts to hear his voice, to hear him so afraid.
/It is only an illusion, rest..../ another part of my mind whispers to me.
It seems right, for how can I hope to get to the Undying Lands? I know I will be breaking my vows to Elrond and Arwen, yet I have not the heart nor strength to complete them.
Forgive me... My thoughts begin to fall to darkness, when a wail hits my fading senses.
'No! You will not fall to death again! Not to this. Ulmo! Manwe! Is this how you would sign my death and return to Mandos? No!' the keening death wail of my last true will, no longer in Elrond's voice but my own, fades in my mind as my hand reaches blindly forward, seemingly of its own accord.
Darkness and oblivion close in on me at my will's death, just as my hand reaches to touch the fast flowing stream. I can feel its smooth, icy water washing over my hand, and for a moment, my mind lingers with the thought of all I am betraying, before I fall to darkness.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Mummers in my ears, whispers in my mind. Can't see, don't want to see. Have I returned to Mandos's halls, and those I have betrayed are scolding me? No, they do not sound like Ecthelion and my beloved, and Elrond is not dead...
'Wake, Glorfindel,' a strong voice reverberates in my mind, and I have no will not to obey.
Opening my eyes, I find myself looking into sea blue ones, that are far from Elven or man, immortal and deep with the knowledge of things beyond even my simple understanding. I felt like a child looking into those ageless eyes, and that I would drown in them, for they were so deep. I know who it is, the knowledge itself imbedded deep within my overlapping soul.
"Ulmo," I whisper, lowering my eyes from his, not daring to meet his gaze again.
"I'm glad to see that you have not entered Mandos's halls a second time, child," Ulmo mummers, and I begin to notice that I am laying with my head rested against his chest, his arms tucked around me, as if to keep me bond to this world.
"Almost," I say softly, then blink in confusion, "Why have you come, hir nin?"
Ulmo smiles sadly at this, and raises my head with one gentle hand, so my eyes meet his.
'I would not have your blood in my waters a second time, child, and you are not only beloved of your people, but of the Valar as well. We do not wish to see our children suffer,' his deep voice resounds further into my soul, yet I hear his words not aloud, only within.
My mind flashes with the suffering my people had sustained for so long, and yet I find I cannot be bitter at his statement, for we truly brought most of it upon ourselves. I was also too weary to truly be bitter with the Valar, especially with he who sent me swiftly through his seas to my dearest friend's aid. Yet memory lingers, and I still remember fire, blood, and death, and not even the memory of Aman itself can wash those wounds away.
'You also called me, and I could not deny such a cry,' he continues, probably well aware of my thoughts, for his eyes darken slightly.
I remember my will's last cry ere it died, and realize what has called him to care for me, one of the lost. Yet, I realize my soul must not be fully dead, or else I would have passed on. Perhaps some strength lies within me yet.
'Come, drink, you still have a vow to fulfill,' Ulmo urges, and raises his hand, which is cupped and the water of his stream fills it.
Putting his hand to my lips, I cannot do more then allow the water to enter within, and drink my fill. A small amount of life seems to return to my weary limbs, as I taste the sweet clear water Ulmo offers me, the first that I have taken in a long time. When I am finished, he pulls away, and smiles once more at me.
"Now, you must continue on, for those in Aman await you, fearing that you indeed have passed on, or lost within a world changed," Ulmo says, helping me to sit up.
I do so, and then slowly he helps me to my feet, where I stand swaying in his hold. I do not know if I have the strength, but there is some left within me now, fueled by the stream of Ulmo, and of my own hard will. It has been too long since I have had to depend upon such a will, but I know it will at least carry me a few steps further.
"Follow the stream, and you shall find the sea," he says, slowly letting me go.
Turning, I grasp his arm once more, half to keep myself standing, half to stay him. I take a moment to get over the sense of water that his robes hold, and the gentle but firm strength I feel within him.
"Hir nin, may I ask you one thing more?" I ask, looking up into that ageless face.
"Speak," he bids, and I know he knows what I wish to ask.
"My son, has he passed on or has his feet led him to the Western shore?" I ask, my heart burning more within me; my pain and hope binding together at the thought of my son.
"Either way he has gone there, and awaits you," Ulmo says, the sighs softly, "But even the strongest hearts will break. He passed through the halls of Mandos swiftly, as his father before him, though he shall never set foot again upon these shores."
I bow my head, my heart quaking within me. I had never wished for death for my son. If only I had followed him...
"Do not grieve for him, he gave his life freely for another and he is now with the one he loves. Come, go to the shore," Ulmo says, laying a hand upon my shoulder once more.
"I cannot. My grieve sunders my remaining strength," I whisper, tears long withheld slipping down my face.
He tilts my head up, "If you pass on to Mandos's Halls once more, I cannot promise you will pass from them as quickly, second born, if you would pass at all with how darkness has held you in thrall many a time," he warns.
Memories assault my pledged mind, of my crimes before the counting of the sun, back to when the land was still covered in darkness, and the Trees were yet to be. My crimes after in Aman, my blade slaying those who would step in my way back to the lands in which I had suffered so much. The horrors of war, and the bonds that Morgoth lay upon my soul coming to bear horrid consequences. My failing to save my own soul brother, and my own foul death in the midst of fire and darkness. My return, innocent yet not, for the Valar put power beyond imagine in my being. Again the horrors of war, again my blood mixed with those I had slained. My son renouncing me, hating me. Darkness's hold again upon my soul. So much, too much... Eru help me!
Sobbing, I fall to my knees. All that I have done, I have not the right to leave Mandos again. Despair, pain unimaginable falls upon me, tearing my darkened soul to shreds, and all I can do is cry in the midst of the carnage. This is the first time I have let myself bind my lives together, let the horror of all that I have done pass through me, and I feel as if fire beyond all imagine has come to claim my soul. I have not the will to live!
Darkness descends, and I readily give into it, hoping now that Ulmo knows all that I have done, will let me die this time...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
To awake once more the sound of the sea, and the feel of salty water washing over me. For one delirious moment, I believe I am back in the land where I first awaken, and my deeds are yet undone. But that land that I awoke within is long gone, and it never had salty waters.
Opening my eyes, I look upon the blue green waves that wash around and over me, and then my ears pick up a sad, sweet song. My heart, cold till now, stirs under it, and I force myself to rise.
Ulmo must have brought me to the shore, though why? Why would he save such as I, whose footsteps still echo within the halls of the dead?
The song stills, and I have yet to see its singer, though deep within, I know who it is.
"Glorfindel, I would have thought you would pass from these shores long ago," a voice, sweet and somber, says behind me.
Turning, I nearly fall in my weakness, then nod to the speaker in half hearted greeting, "Maglor, I would have thought the same of you."
"Nay, old friend, the hands of a kinslayer are too stained to work within the borders of Aman. Middle Earth is the only place marred enough for one such as I," Maglor says, his eyes glancing at my weary frame, "Yet what would keep one such as you here?"
I would laugh bitterly if I had the strength, "My own crimes hold me here, as yours do."
"Your crimes? What such crimes do you speak of, except those of which I know of, for you were not responsible for those slayings," Maglor said, coming slightly closer.
"And why should I not be blamed for those? I was at fault for them as well," I say.
"Ah, but was it not my Father's fiery soul and words which ignited your heart? Was it not your bitterness against Morgoth for the darkness he had wrote upon your soul while you lay captured in his dark halls that sent you forth to wrote vengeance against him? Was it not Morgoth who murdered Ecthelion and you, and was it not the Valar who gave you such a burden of power upon your return? Was it not Sauron who resurrected Morgoth's bond on your soul, and was it not Sauron who warped this world further? You blame yourself for what others forced upon you," Maglor say softly, and I wonder at how he knew of those which he had not been part of.
"Ulmo sends me word of what has transpired, and Elrond briefly came to me to try to convince me to go with him. He told me of your falls, and your rises. You are not to blame, as I am not," Maglor says, and smiles sadly.
I start at that, if he did not blame himself, why was he still here?
"I have only come to that conclusion a while ago myself. It was not all my fault, nor my brothers' or my Father's, it was the unfortunate fate we signed ourselves to. It was foretold by Eru to the ears of Namo alone, we are only working for the ultimate glory at the end. And if the Valar and those I have wronged forgive me, I can perhaps forgive myself, as can you. Your footsteps lead from the dark places, yes, but they are only echoes, and you have come out alive, not whole or unscathed, but alive. Can you not accept it?" he asks my gently, his dark eyes holding mine, reflecting wonder and peace that he has long been without.
His words strike upon my soul, washing through my wounds and shadows, reaching the small fading spark within, igniting it like if Feanor was once more speaking, yet this fire wasn't of anger, but of wonder, and possible chance for peace.
"I do not know if I can yet. So much has passed. But perhaps I can," I say finally, and I know it is true.
Maglor smiles slightly, "Then perhaps I shall not have to travel to the Undying Lands alone. Will you come?"
He gestures to a place a ways off, where a small boat lays half hidden in the shadows of a coup of trees. Smiling slightly myself, I turn back to him, and nod.
"Good, then come. We sail, and leave our fates to the Valar to see if they have forgiven us our crimes," he says, his smile turning ironic as he leads me down to where the boat rests.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Body collapses again; soul wants to break free, pain and numbness one, where is the sea...
Eyes refusing to open, lungs refusing to breathe. Can't give in, can't...
Ground feels so cool, moist, grass brushing my face, whispering of life. Life that I am struggling to keep hold of, and can't.
Rise, please....
Can't....
Dying hurt worse the first time....
But this is truly dying, that was only a rest stop....
Get up...
Arms struggle to push a body too weakened to rise on its own, arms shaking under the strain of such a thin body. Crash once more to the ground, sorrow crushing upon me.
I'm failing, falling, and no one can save me now. Before, before, I had help, now, now I am utterly alone. Ecthelion, I'm sorry my brother....
'Promise me you will go to the Undying Lands after I die.'
Arwen, what if I cannot keep that promise? Do not hold it against me, little one... I pray your brothers will not as well...
Celebrian, Celebrian, I have fulfilled my vow. The last was not alone; I protected them with my soul, until Eru called the last one on. Hopefully your sons are safe within your arms, far from this accursed land.
Idril, my vow... I have given my soul up to your family, and have done what you begged of me at the burning of Gondolin. Cry nevermore, for I never failed you...
Feanor, dear hotheaded friend and enemy, has your thought come true? Has my soul finally burned itself out, long after yours?
'Get up.'
A command.... Who?
Opening my eyes, I look upon the last person I would ever find on Middle Earth, and yet the one foremost in my thoughts since my rebirth.
"Elrond?" I whisper, unable to even rise.
'Nay, an illusion of your thoughts, the last of your will in the only form that can save you. Now get up,' Elrond orders once more.
"I cannot," I answer, caring not that it is only an image from my delirious mind; I need at least one pleasant image before I die.
'Yes you can, you've only given up. Now, get up,' the illusion says, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at me, like Elrond did so at times when he was displeased with me or someone else.
"You always were stubborn..." I sigh, forcing my dying body to my hands and knees once more, but I can do no more, as even if I try to rise further, I would fall once more, and I fear I wouldn't rise.
'Good, that means you are, since I am a piece of your will,' he says, and smirks, 'There is a stream nearby, perhaps you can gain strength after you drink something.'
Sighing once more, I proceed to crawl and drag my body towards the stream he motions to; my senses too weakened to even hear it. My body cries for me to lie back down, and many times I nearly give in, if not for a flash of my illusion of Elrond pushing me on with a look. Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, I finally reach the small stream, and collapse beside it, my strength spent. I don't remember ever being this weak. Yet here I am, barely able to raise my hand....
Closing my eyes, I can feel oblivion at the corners of my mind, waiting patiently to give up my immortal bonds and accept its embracing arms. I find myself wishing ever more for it, though a piece of me still fights, that piece that awoke three weeks ago in ruined Rivendell. But even that piece is succumbing to the weakness and heart sickness within me. It's only a matter of time...
'Glorfindel, get up, drink something,' Elrond's voice seems to be coming from a long way off, and for once, I ignore that voice, sinking deeper into myself.
'Glorfindel! Please!' funny, my illusion sounds so much like Elrond that it hurts to hear his voice, to hear him so afraid.
/It is only an illusion, rest..../ another part of my mind whispers to me.
It seems right, for how can I hope to get to the Undying Lands? I know I will be breaking my vows to Elrond and Arwen, yet I have not the heart nor strength to complete them.
Forgive me... My thoughts begin to fall to darkness, when a wail hits my fading senses.
'No! You will not fall to death again! Not to this. Ulmo! Manwe! Is this how you would sign my death and return to Mandos? No!' the keening death wail of my last true will, no longer in Elrond's voice but my own, fades in my mind as my hand reaches blindly forward, seemingly of its own accord.
Darkness and oblivion close in on me at my will's death, just as my hand reaches to touch the fast flowing stream. I can feel its smooth, icy water washing over my hand, and for a moment, my mind lingers with the thought of all I am betraying, before I fall to darkness.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Mummers in my ears, whispers in my mind. Can't see, don't want to see. Have I returned to Mandos's halls, and those I have betrayed are scolding me? No, they do not sound like Ecthelion and my beloved, and Elrond is not dead...
'Wake, Glorfindel,' a strong voice reverberates in my mind, and I have no will not to obey.
Opening my eyes, I find myself looking into sea blue ones, that are far from Elven or man, immortal and deep with the knowledge of things beyond even my simple understanding. I felt like a child looking into those ageless eyes, and that I would drown in them, for they were so deep. I know who it is, the knowledge itself imbedded deep within my overlapping soul.
"Ulmo," I whisper, lowering my eyes from his, not daring to meet his gaze again.
"I'm glad to see that you have not entered Mandos's halls a second time, child," Ulmo mummers, and I begin to notice that I am laying with my head rested against his chest, his arms tucked around me, as if to keep me bond to this world.
"Almost," I say softly, then blink in confusion, "Why have you come, hir nin?"
Ulmo smiles sadly at this, and raises my head with one gentle hand, so my eyes meet his.
'I would not have your blood in my waters a second time, child, and you are not only beloved of your people, but of the Valar as well. We do not wish to see our children suffer,' his deep voice resounds further into my soul, yet I hear his words not aloud, only within.
My mind flashes with the suffering my people had sustained for so long, and yet I find I cannot be bitter at his statement, for we truly brought most of it upon ourselves. I was also too weary to truly be bitter with the Valar, especially with he who sent me swiftly through his seas to my dearest friend's aid. Yet memory lingers, and I still remember fire, blood, and death, and not even the memory of Aman itself can wash those wounds away.
'You also called me, and I could not deny such a cry,' he continues, probably well aware of my thoughts, for his eyes darken slightly.
I remember my will's last cry ere it died, and realize what has called him to care for me, one of the lost. Yet, I realize my soul must not be fully dead, or else I would have passed on. Perhaps some strength lies within me yet.
'Come, drink, you still have a vow to fulfill,' Ulmo urges, and raises his hand, which is cupped and the water of his stream fills it.
Putting his hand to my lips, I cannot do more then allow the water to enter within, and drink my fill. A small amount of life seems to return to my weary limbs, as I taste the sweet clear water Ulmo offers me, the first that I have taken in a long time. When I am finished, he pulls away, and smiles once more at me.
"Now, you must continue on, for those in Aman await you, fearing that you indeed have passed on, or lost within a world changed," Ulmo says, helping me to sit up.
I do so, and then slowly he helps me to my feet, where I stand swaying in his hold. I do not know if I have the strength, but there is some left within me now, fueled by the stream of Ulmo, and of my own hard will. It has been too long since I have had to depend upon such a will, but I know it will at least carry me a few steps further.
"Follow the stream, and you shall find the sea," he says, slowly letting me go.
Turning, I grasp his arm once more, half to keep myself standing, half to stay him. I take a moment to get over the sense of water that his robes hold, and the gentle but firm strength I feel within him.
"Hir nin, may I ask you one thing more?" I ask, looking up into that ageless face.
"Speak," he bids, and I know he knows what I wish to ask.
"My son, has he passed on or has his feet led him to the Western shore?" I ask, my heart burning more within me; my pain and hope binding together at the thought of my son.
"Either way he has gone there, and awaits you," Ulmo says, the sighs softly, "But even the strongest hearts will break. He passed through the halls of Mandos swiftly, as his father before him, though he shall never set foot again upon these shores."
I bow my head, my heart quaking within me. I had never wished for death for my son. If only I had followed him...
"Do not grieve for him, he gave his life freely for another and he is now with the one he loves. Come, go to the shore," Ulmo says, laying a hand upon my shoulder once more.
"I cannot. My grieve sunders my remaining strength," I whisper, tears long withheld slipping down my face.
He tilts my head up, "If you pass on to Mandos's Halls once more, I cannot promise you will pass from them as quickly, second born, if you would pass at all with how darkness has held you in thrall many a time," he warns.
Memories assault my pledged mind, of my crimes before the counting of the sun, back to when the land was still covered in darkness, and the Trees were yet to be. My crimes after in Aman, my blade slaying those who would step in my way back to the lands in which I had suffered so much. The horrors of war, and the bonds that Morgoth lay upon my soul coming to bear horrid consequences. My failing to save my own soul brother, and my own foul death in the midst of fire and darkness. My return, innocent yet not, for the Valar put power beyond imagine in my being. Again the horrors of war, again my blood mixed with those I had slained. My son renouncing me, hating me. Darkness's hold again upon my soul. So much, too much... Eru help me!
Sobbing, I fall to my knees. All that I have done, I have not the right to leave Mandos again. Despair, pain unimaginable falls upon me, tearing my darkened soul to shreds, and all I can do is cry in the midst of the carnage. This is the first time I have let myself bind my lives together, let the horror of all that I have done pass through me, and I feel as if fire beyond all imagine has come to claim my soul. I have not the will to live!
Darkness descends, and I readily give into it, hoping now that Ulmo knows all that I have done, will let me die this time...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
To awake once more the sound of the sea, and the feel of salty water washing over me. For one delirious moment, I believe I am back in the land where I first awaken, and my deeds are yet undone. But that land that I awoke within is long gone, and it never had salty waters.
Opening my eyes, I look upon the blue green waves that wash around and over me, and then my ears pick up a sad, sweet song. My heart, cold till now, stirs under it, and I force myself to rise.
Ulmo must have brought me to the shore, though why? Why would he save such as I, whose footsteps still echo within the halls of the dead?
The song stills, and I have yet to see its singer, though deep within, I know who it is.
"Glorfindel, I would have thought you would pass from these shores long ago," a voice, sweet and somber, says behind me.
Turning, I nearly fall in my weakness, then nod to the speaker in half hearted greeting, "Maglor, I would have thought the same of you."
"Nay, old friend, the hands of a kinslayer are too stained to work within the borders of Aman. Middle Earth is the only place marred enough for one such as I," Maglor says, his eyes glancing at my weary frame, "Yet what would keep one such as you here?"
I would laugh bitterly if I had the strength, "My own crimes hold me here, as yours do."
"Your crimes? What such crimes do you speak of, except those of which I know of, for you were not responsible for those slayings," Maglor said, coming slightly closer.
"And why should I not be blamed for those? I was at fault for them as well," I say.
"Ah, but was it not my Father's fiery soul and words which ignited your heart? Was it not your bitterness against Morgoth for the darkness he had wrote upon your soul while you lay captured in his dark halls that sent you forth to wrote vengeance against him? Was it not Morgoth who murdered Ecthelion and you, and was it not the Valar who gave you such a burden of power upon your return? Was it not Sauron who resurrected Morgoth's bond on your soul, and was it not Sauron who warped this world further? You blame yourself for what others forced upon you," Maglor say softly, and I wonder at how he knew of those which he had not been part of.
"Ulmo sends me word of what has transpired, and Elrond briefly came to me to try to convince me to go with him. He told me of your falls, and your rises. You are not to blame, as I am not," Maglor says, and smiles sadly.
I start at that, if he did not blame himself, why was he still here?
"I have only come to that conclusion a while ago myself. It was not all my fault, nor my brothers' or my Father's, it was the unfortunate fate we signed ourselves to. It was foretold by Eru to the ears of Namo alone, we are only working for the ultimate glory at the end. And if the Valar and those I have wronged forgive me, I can perhaps forgive myself, as can you. Your footsteps lead from the dark places, yes, but they are only echoes, and you have come out alive, not whole or unscathed, but alive. Can you not accept it?" he asks my gently, his dark eyes holding mine, reflecting wonder and peace that he has long been without.
His words strike upon my soul, washing through my wounds and shadows, reaching the small fading spark within, igniting it like if Feanor was once more speaking, yet this fire wasn't of anger, but of wonder, and possible chance for peace.
"I do not know if I can yet. So much has passed. But perhaps I can," I say finally, and I know it is true.
Maglor smiles slightly, "Then perhaps I shall not have to travel to the Undying Lands alone. Will you come?"
He gestures to a place a ways off, where a small boat lays half hidden in the shadows of a coup of trees. Smiling slightly myself, I turn back to him, and nod.
"Good, then come. We sail, and leave our fates to the Valar to see if they have forgiven us our crimes," he says, his smile turning ironic as he leads me down to where the boat rests.
