Disclaimer:
I do not claim to own any of the canon characters in this story.
Everyone else, who is not mentioned in one of Tolkien´s works, is mine.
Author's notes:
Huge thanks go to everyone who helped me on this story: Elvea Aure, Klose and Lothanoriel. I don't know what I would do without you. This story would be a mess. Tree, I hope you had a nice holiday =).
Notes on this chapter will be found in the end, as well as responses for everyone who reviewed. Thank you all so much! I promise not to let you wait for so long again.
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Chapter 3: Thoughts and Memories
Three days had gone by since Glorfindel had been released from the Halls of Mandos, and though the time passed slowly in the Blessed Realm, it passed nonetheless.
The morning was peaceful in the house of Glorfindel and Elentinwë, save for a small elfling who silently tapped into the room of his parents, who were both still asleep. They did not notice the young one approach, until he roused his father.
"Atar, my tooth," the young elf said as Ilurano's gaze steadied and he looked at his son, holding something small and white in his hand. Tears threatened to spill from the young one's eyes. "Atar, it has fallen out. You are a smith. I am sure you can fix it. Can you fix it?" he asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Ilurano sat up in the bed and pulled the little one into his lap.
"No, my dear Súlindo, I can not fix it again. It is not even necessary, for a new tooth will grow where the old one has fallen out. You are growing up, this is a sign for it. Is it not something you always wanted?"
"Yes!" the little one exclaimed happily, though it sounded tired. He planted a wet smack on his father's cheek and cuddled deeper into his lap.
Ilurano felt a tinge of regret that he had to leave soon, and miss this time in the life of his son, to council the king of Andor, the land of the gift, which the mortals called Númenor. The anger he felt for his father leaving centred for a moment on himself and he winced at the unwelcome sensation. It was not an alien feeling, though. He had already felt stronger hatred for the creatures of Morgoth run through his veins wildly, when he was fighting in the War of Wrath to deal vengeance for all that had happened. Had it not been for Morgoth, his father would never have left them behind.
Ilurano's thoughts snapped back to reality when he realised what he had been just thinking. It was not solely his father's fault that they had been left alone.
"No," he murmured, shaking his head and burying his face in his hands. The words of Olórin echoed in his mind when the Maia had comforted his mother in the time of worst grief – he had said that it was not her fault, not Ilurano's, and not even only Glorfindel's, but the fault of those who had caused the darkness.
Now he understood that Olórin had had been right; now, after all this time. He had a lot to apologise for, for he had avoided his father whenever possible in the past days. If he had to speak with him, he had been as unfriendly and cold as possible, to not let his father get a look past the barriers around his soul, that he only now realised there were.
The blonde elf looked out of the high window and down onto the road that was still mostly empty in those early hours. He turned away with a fast motion as he saw his father walking there. For a moment he wondered why Glorfindel would leave ere anyone in his house ought to be awake, but dismissed those thoughts quickly as guilt whispered in his heart again. And so Ilurano welcomed the content mumble and the movement on his lap that reminded him that he still held his son in his arms. Súlindo had fallen asleep again, the dark head placed on his father's shoulder, hair spilling over his face, and the little thumb stuck in his mouth.
The young one's father thought that his son was perhaps still dreaming about the eagle, and smiled slightly, when he laid his son into the bed beside Lairë. He himself laid down again, too, cherishing the warmth they shared, knowing it was the last time for a month, for he had to leave in the evening.
* * *
It was still early morning, and the save for some rare rays of light that filtered in through the Calacirya and were mirrored by the golden and silver roofs of Valimar, Arien had not yet shown her face over the peaks of the Pelori. In the distance the towers of Tirion could be seen shimmering white between the treetops. Beneath them, in the green shadows, the air was still cool and moist and the chirping of birds and the burbling of a brook were the only sounds.
Glorfindel walked the alley with silent steps, approaching his former home, even though he did not know what he wanted there. All others of his kin save those whom he left behind had been slain in Gondolin, and the white house of his mother and father in Tirion would surely be abandoned, like those of so many others who had left Valinor years and years ago.
The golden-haired elflord allowed his thoughts to wander back to the time when he had left the house of his parents, when Elentinwë and he had been newly wed and he moved from Tirion to Valimar. They had walked this same alley he treaded now, followed by a crowd of guests. Merry songs had filled the air that day, wishing the couple blessings and the grace of the Valar.
He continued his way, wistfully remembering the happier days before he had made the one mistake that had changed his life, and that of all his family. True, he had loved Elentinwë dearly, and he loved her still, but he was no fool and in the last days he had realised that her behaviour towards him was more reserved and she no longer was as joyful and loving as on the day he had returned from the Halls of Waiting. And he could not blame her, nor his son, who showed his feelings more openly and to whom he had rarely spoken.
He was the one who had brought unrest into their lives, two times now.
Glorfindel believed the consequences of his departure with the host of Turgon more dire, for he had been too proud and unwilling to turn his back on the other warriors, and too ashamed to return to his home like a craven.
It was only now that he realised that it would not have been cowardly to continue, but to resist the powerful words of Fëanor, the fire they had kindled in his heart and later the thoughts of vengeance for being left behind and betrayed, while a fleet of swanships crossed the ocean.
The second time he had brought unrest to his family had been his return, unexpected by all, and as it now seemed, unwanted. His family, his wife and son, as well as Lairë and Súlindo had settled in a routine without him, and had lived this way many years through, until he had so suddenly re-appeared and therewith disturbed it.
He had watched them in the past days, silently observing what had changed in the long years of his absence. And even though there were only few greater differences at first sight, it were the many details that were not the same anymore. There was one thing that had struck him in particular - while the members of his family had been allowed to stroll outside the whole day long and could return when they had seen it fit long ago, now they would meet on an appointed time in the evening. They would gather in the living room of the house and light the tale-fire, and then listen to what the others had to say, tell tales or sing something.
This originally was a custom of the elves of Tol Eressea, but many a family of the Vanyar and Noldor had adopted this habit. Normally, the fire was kindled when a couple married and moved into a house of their own, symbolising the warmth and love they had for each other.
He could very well remember the day when Elentinwë and he had kindled their own fire, starting with many vain efforts that were accompanied with laughter from them both. But finally, when the flames burned high, and their faces were smeared with soot and their eyes were shining in the dancing light, their lips met in a passionate kiss. And normally, the fire, aided by magic, should have never burned down. Yet that of his wife and him had, in more than one way.
The wanderer stopped on the road and turned back, intending to go back home. Still, memories came flooding back to him, mingled pictures from his early childhood and his march away.
The voice of his father was gentle and understanding, a warm hand was placed on his shoulder and the little injury on his knee throbbed. He sniffled and wiped his nose with a sleeve of his robe while trying to understand his father's words.
"My son, listen to me. If there ever should be a reason for you to spill tears, do not let them fall. Hold them back and fight the feeling."
"But Atar, my knee hurts," he had responded, unsure why he was not allowed to cry.
"I know it does, my son. But the pain will pass more swiftly if you do not allow yourself to think about it. Do you understand my words?"
He had nodded and ran off to play with his friends again, but it had been many years until he had really understood the full meaning of those words.
The night turned ever clearer as the host of Turgon marched further North. The stars overhead were shining like the gems of Fëanor, whom the elves pursued. The wind was icy, bearing snow-crystals with it that stung his hands, his face, his eyes, as he lay on the ground, wrapped in blankets against the bitter cold. He had turned his back to the other warriors and captains of Turgon and tried to find comfort in the faint starlight playing on the half-frozen waves; with no avail. It was hard to ignore the fact that he had sent his loved ones away when he should have followed them, and not his pride. Even though he knew he still could come back, what arrival in Valimar would it be? He would come home like a craven, like a coward, and it would be unlikely that his Elentinwë would accept him again with open arms.
Before this point of time he had never experienced such pain, and even though he had remembered his father's advice , he did not know what to do. Tears spilled from his eyes unhindered for the very first time since he was very young, and froze in the corners of his eyes. In this moment knew he had been defeated in all ways possible, yet he decided not to go back, but to look forward.
Little did he know what would come of the fire that had been rekindled in his heart, and what would be the consequences he would have to bear.
Silently he swore to himself that he would heed his father's words now, and that he would not fail this time. This time he would fight, and he would not let his failure tear his family apart once more. He would give Elentinwë, Ilurano, Lairë and Súlindo no cause for sorrow. Maybe he could not set everything right again what had been wronged, but he could try. He would.
With this thought on his mind he continued his way with steps a little more light – it was to Glorfindel as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his heart, even though there was still something that weighed it down.
It did not take him long anymore to reach the end of the shadowed alley that had led him away from Valimar. Before him opened the Calacirya, and in the midst of the sheer walls the green hill of Túna rose before his eyes. The white walls of polished stone on its crown mirrored the morning sun that had now fully risen.
Glorfindel stood in awe for a moment, among all his thoughts he had forgotten about the splendour of fair Tirion, the city of his birth. Many white roads wound up the hillside among trees of evergreen and fields of flowers.
As if he was unsure about his actions, Glorfindel's steps became slower as he approached the hillside.
Gondolin, Ondolinde – it had been the same feeling for him in the years ago. He could remember how all the company had stopped in the mountain pass leading down onto the plain, and had looked in awe upon the jewel in the midst of the green. It had soon earned the reputation to be indeed a likeness of Tirion, but much more he could not remember of that day. A mist as if a cloud had veiled the sun had crept into his memories and obscured them beyond his ability to see. Grateful for the fading of his memories, yet not thinking why this had happened, he shook his head to clear it of even the last unwelcome images. This was not Gondolin; the Singing Stone had fallen, and its ruins were far away, beyond the sea. This was Tirion, city of his birth and childhood, where he had first encountered the fair maiden that now was his wife.
He had no need to contemplate the past.
As if it was this that had prevented him from going on, he took up his pace again and slowly ascended the road that every now and then was interrupted by a set of stairs. Eventually he had arrived at the top of the hill, crowned with the slender tower of Mindon Eldalieva and many a fair house.
He walked through the white streets aimlessly and past his parents' house, without even acknowledging the fact where he was. His steps led him over a marketplace and into the narrower streets of the city. It was here where galleries and workshops could be found, and may small stores that sold goods found nowhere else in Tirion.
Ahead of him the road opened to another square ringed with houses. From the tree-shaped fountain of white stone in its middle, water dropped back into a basin and from somewhere not too far away the wind carried the sound of a flute with it.
He had never been here before, he who had boasted in his youth that he knew every corner in Tirion, and decided to stay for a while and think over his decisions again, before returning to Valimar.
Glorfindel studied the sunlight and shadows on the water for a moment, before stooping to drink of the cool liquid and to splash his face with it.
He sat down with his back to the stonewall of the fountain and as he allowed his thoughts to wander, he found himself in the alley again, recalling what he had done wrong, and how he could set it right once and for all. Not much time had passed when his eyes became unseeing and the golden-haired drifted into the world of dreams and visions that had been his home for long years. Not only in the Halls of Mandos, even before he had fallen. And from this time a voice called to him now, melodic, musical and cheerful as always.
"Glorfindel! Is it really you? Wake up and answer me!"
A soft laugh followed, and a strong hand clasped Glorfindel's arm in the fashion of a warrior. He was pulled to his feet and awoke from his thoughts with a start; to look into a smiling face framed with dark hair.
"Glorfindel? Yes, it is really you; I would recognise you everywhere, even if it were among thousands of your kin! Tell me, when have you returned?"
Glorfindel stared at the other elf in astonishment for a moment, unbelieving. His face lit up with a smile and his eyes shone upon meeting someone whom he had thought long lost to fire and water.
"Ecthelion. You have not changed a bit, my friend, save that you look more splendid than ever!"
"Thank you," the Noldo laughed and pulled Glorfindel into an embrace, studying his face.
"Would you please release me from your arms now? Friends we may be, but there is no need that folk starts calling us lovers," Glorfindel asked after a moment. The dark-haired elf winked and released him, but took him in his arms yet again with a swift movement but a second later.
"Why conceal the truth we both know? I have waited so long for a kiss from your lips. Too many years we were apart, and now upon meeting again, you draw back? What has become of the elf I shared nights of passion with?"
"'Tis a good thing we meet again, but what is this madness that has befallen you? We swore that no one should know of our love for each other, do you not remember?"
"Yes, I remember. And I apologise, for this fact had eluded my memory until now. But let us go, so we may lie in each other's arms again! I can barely await to feel your touch once more!"
"Neither can I. Let us go, and swiftly!"
Ecthelion could no longer hold a straight face and laughed, nearly doubling over with mirth. His right hand clutched Glorfindel's shoulder and his left the rim of the fountain for support. He laughed until tears formed in his eyes and he gasped for air, not noticing at first that Glorfindel had stopped laughing, and his face was solemn again. His eyes grew distant for a moment, remembering the all too familiar banters between the two of them, which they had acted out at nearly every meeting in Gondolin.
The last time had been the day before the fall, and the last time they had talked at all.
When Ecthelion's outburst of mirth had died down to chuckles, Glorfindel helped him to stand straight again, and tried a hesitant smile.
"'Tis truly good to see you again, my friend. But let us stop this childish banter now, and go to my house, where you may refresh yourself better than with the water of one of my fountains," the Noldo donned in silvery-white garments said.
While they walked through the streets, Ecthelion looked at his silent friend more than once, and every time the crease between his brows became deeper. He clearly felt that something was not right with Glorfindel, but he could not say what exactly it was. Not wanting to touch this matter on the open streets, where people passed them by, of whom many waved their hands in greeting to the Lord of the Fountain, he kept silent.
After a short walk they reached the house of Ecthelion. The two elves crossed a tree-lined yard with another fountain in its middle on a way strewn with white pebbles. Under the ancient elm-trees with on both sides of it, white peacocks paced over the grass, searching the fallen leaves from years past for food.
Inside the house it was cool, despite the fire that burned in the hearth of the great room into which Glorfindel now was led. Ecthelion disappeared after bidding his friend to sit down at the table and came back some minutes later, bearing a tray laden with wine, cheese and freshly baked bread. The golden-haired elf remained silent as his friend took a seat on the opposite of the table.
"Eat and drink something, you will feel better," he offered, shoving a glass of wine over to Glorfindel, who simply shook his head and said nothing, staring down on the honey-coloured wood.
"What is it with you, Atanóno?" he asked now. "I can clearly see that something grieves you. Yet it will not help if you stay silent and pretend that the problem is non-existent. I have never seen you in such a mood before."
At this, Glorfindel lifted his head and looked at the other elf. "How did you know of my rebirth? You had… passed on already when I fell prey to one of the fiery demons. Am I looked through so easily, like a book lying open for everyone to read in?"
"No, you are not. But I suppose it is easy for those who have the same fate, to tell if someone has been granted freedom from the Halls of Mandos," Ecthelion explained, recalling how he had felt in the days after he had returned himself. It had not been a pleasant sensation, and a hard task to become used to the life as a living again. He was sure that it was similar for his friend, and that this was the source of his silence.
"When have you returned?" he asked now.
"But three days ago. 'Tis a strange feeling, to be free again. But it is not the same as before. I doubt it will ever be again," Glorfindel sighed.
"No, it will not be," Ecthelion agreed. "But though it is different, it does not have to be worse. The past has gone by, do not measure what you had before with what you have now."
"I cannot. It is too tightly intertwined with my present." It could clearly be heard that he did not wish to talk about this matter, but Ecthelion did not let him get away this easily.
"What is it? It is of no use if you keep everything hidden inside you. This is a lesson I have learned well after my own return, a lesson I would like to spare you from. Fate can be cruel, but the memories will fade, so you can make peace with yourself. Both for the past and the present."
Glorfindel's fair voice quavered slightly as he answered reluctantly. "I would. But some actions cannot be forgiven, and it is not but I who am concerned by those. Do you not have a wife and a child? Did you not walk away, leaving them behind, too?"
"Yes, I did so indeed, you know this as well as I do. You were there. But this is not important... I had to face the same obstacles you are looking upon now. When I returned, I feared that begging for forgiveness would fall on deaf ears, but I was proved wrong. It was hard in the beginning, and I needed their help as well as they needed mine… and though the memories of Gondolin did never fully disappear, they have faded; and my family has learned to forgive and forget in time. We have been granted a second chance, Glorfindel, to live among those who have never rebelled, and maybe we can regain our innocence. Do not throw your new life away for no reason but that you are too proud to confess your feelings."
"You are right. This has caused much grief before, and I will not have it so again. But how will I know that everything will happen as you predicted?"
"To know this for certain is not possible, but remember my words, though the council I gave you may be vague. This is the Blessed Realm, no ill will happen here."
"Ill has happened in this land before," Glorfindel interjected. His voice was bitter.
"But it is said that through the designs of Ilúvatar from ill deeds and happenings will come greater joy and beauty, and though this may not yet have been fulfilled, it will happen so." Ecthelion smiled, looking at his friend with sparkling eyes. It had been a saying in Gondolin that few things could dim the spirit of the Lord of the House of the Fountain, and this was seemingly true.
As Glorfindel said nothing, but merely smiled back, even if hesitantly, Ecthelion handed him the glass of wine anew, rapidly changing the topic of their talk.
"You have not yet tasted it. Do not tell me now that I have opened a bottle of the finest vintage from my cellar for naught, or…"
"Or what? Will you keep me captive in your house until I have emptied it alone?"
"Indeed, I will. And you will have to eat all the bread and cheese. So, what is your decision, golden-tressed?"
"You defeated me. I shall do as you wish, but then return home. There are people I need to speak with before the sun has set."
After a while he bade farewell to his friend of old, distracted from his sorrows for the moment.
"I must return home now," he said and smiled. "Thank you, Ecthelion."
"Do not thank me, Glorfindel. I wish you all the luck I have had, and more," the fair Noldo answered. "But there is something I have to ask from you," he said, smirking.
"Your request is granted. What is it?"
"I would dearly love to pay you and your family a visit, and Nólemire will surely want to accompany me."
Glorfindel laughed. "Be sure we will be prepared for your fair wife and yourself. Come to my house whenever you see fit. But it is time for me to go now. My son sets sail this evening, and I wish to talk to him before."
"Very well. Namárië, Glorfindel."
The two elves clasped arms in a warrior's fashion and then the golden-haired elf began his way home.
* * *
It was late afternoon when Glorfindel approached his home in Valimar again. From the back garden he heard the happy yells of Súlindo and the voice of Ilurano, and for the merest of moments he doubted again that Ecthelion would indeed be right. Simply too much time had passed, and he had missed too much that it seemed nigh impossible to reconcile himself with his family.
Throwing those thoughts off with an angry shake of his golden head, he entered the house, and went into the living room. In the midst of the silence here sat Elentinwë, cross-legged on the floor in front of the extinguished fire. The right of her slender hands was blackened as if she had touched the ashes and coals. She did not turn to look at him.
"I have been thinking, about the words we said on the morning after your return. I fear everything will not be as we wished it to happen… but the reverse. I have tried to act upon what we promised, but it is a hard thing to do. Maybe it is truly the best if we do as you suggested. It is not an easy way, but the only one I see that has a future… we should truly try to forget."
Glorfindel remained silent, for he sensed that Elentinwë had not yet spoken all things that she wanted to say.
"It will not be easy for any of us, but I am tired of grieving for the past. I long for the bliss we once had, which I have been denied for the years of your absence. I have seen now that it is of no use pushing you away as I did in the past days; it only makes things worse.
Will you forgive me for my foolish assumption?"
"Nay," Glorfindel said. He heard the rapidly in-drawn breath of his wife, and immediately regretted having said this. "Nay, my love, for nothing that you have done needs forgiving. If one would need it, it would be I, and I alone. And it is so indeed. But I do not ask for forgiveness, I do not deserve it."
Elentinwë got up in a swift motion and said nothing to his words. Cursing in his mind, believing he had said or done something wrong again, Glorfindel did not expect her next words. But he would have sworn to the Lord Manwe himself that she sounded not as tired anymore.
"Shall we try then to rebuild what has been done wrong in the past?"
"Yes. If we should fail, which I will not allow, then it will bring us no more hurt than going separate ways."
"I am glad we think alike. Ilurano will depart with the evening tide, and to bid him farewell we will gather here. 'Tis an important thing for him… so please join us to do the first step."
For a brief moment Elentinwë turned to look at him, waiting for an answer. As he nodded, she left the room with graceful steps, shutting the door to the garden behind her.
* * *
When it grew dark, Glorfindel waited for the others to appear nervously. He sat in a comfortable chair by one of the windows on the eastern side of the room and looked into the swiftly falling night. His blue eyes were sharp and keen, and he could discern every single tree and flower in the darkened garden outside. Beyond the low white fence his son had crafted, he could see the sides of the Mountain, and further away the Pass of Light with a background of a starry sky.
The golden-haired turned around when the door creaked slightly, and Elentinwë entered, with the others following. Ilurano bore a basket of wood and cinder to built the fire. His face showed a carefully schooled expression as he looked at his father, and his eyes glimmered coldly in light of the blue-shining Feanorian lamps on the windowsills. Lairë went and darkened them one by one, until only two were left giving light on the backside of the room.
A fire, expertly built by Ilurano flared up suddenly, lighting all their faces in a soft orange. Súlindo yawned, and wriggled from the lap of his mother, who in the meantime had sat down next to Glorfindel. He walked over to his father, who was wiping his sooty hands on a cloth, and demanded to be taken into his arms.
"Atar, do I have to go and rest already?" he asked suddenly, thus bringing a slight smile to his father's face.
"No, not today. Though it is well past your time, you are allowed to stay awake and bid your father farewell," Lairë answered, before Ilurano had even opened his mouth to speak.
The smile of the young elf dimmed as he was reminded on what he would have liked to forget, and he lowered his gaze. "Atar, why do you have to go?" he asked in a quiet voice edged with disappointment.
"There is an island where people live who need the help of my comrades and I. You do not need help here, so where do you think I am needed the more?" Ilurano answered, while sitting down, and pulling his son into his lap to face him.
Súlindo nodded, understanding what his father tried to tell him. "They need you there," he said, and stuck out his lower lip in an adorable pout. "But when will you come back?"
The elder elf smiled fondly, ruffling his son's dark hair gently. "You shall barely notice my absence. But a month will pass before I return home."
"But that is too long, Atar!" he was interrupted by a defiant cry. "Can you not come back earlier?"
"No, there is no way to do this. It may take some time to become acquainted with the situation on the island, and the way by sea alone is long enough."
After those words Súlindo remained silent, but a sad light shone in his grey eyes, and he clearly showed his unwillingness to be parted from his father, even if it were but for a month's time.
Ilurano sighed, and looked at his own father for a second, who had followed the conversation with a serious face. It reminded Glorfindel all too much of his past, which he refused to think about in this moment, the advice of Ecthelion forgotten for the time being.
"Is there anything I can do for you to console you?" Ilurano asked now, turning his gaze to his son again. The face of the young one brightened after a moment of thoughtful consideration.
"You could sing something!" Súlindo suggested and grinned. His father had a voice pleasant to listen to. "The Voyage of Eärendil," his son requested now and looked at his father pleadingly.
"Very well. This is a song short enough, and I will be able to sing it to you in full. You know that I would sing you an even longer lay, if time permitted it, do you not?"
"Yes Atar, I know." Súlindo embraced him tightly. "Can you sing now?"
"I will. Hush, and listen," he whispered, putting a finger to his lips to indicate silence, before he began to sing softly.
"Eärendil arose where the shadow flows
At Ocean´s silent brim;
Through the mouth of the 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 treaded his path over the aftermath
Of the splendour of the the Sun,
And wandered far past many a star
In his gleaming galleon.
On the gathering tide of darkness ride
The argosies of the sky,
And spangle the night with their sails of light
As the streaming star goes by.
Unheeding he dips past these twinkling ships,
By his wayward spirit whirled
On an endless quest through the darkling West
O´er the margin of the world;
And he fares in haste o´er the jewelled waste
And the dusk from whence he came
With his heart afire with bright desire
And his face in silver flame.
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.
The Eärendil fled from that shipman dread
Beyond the dark earth´s pale,
Back under the rim of the Ocean dim,
And behind the world set sail;
And he heard the mirth of the folk of earth
And the falling of their tears,
As the world dropped back in a cloudy wrack
On its journey down the years.
Then he glimmering passed to the starless vast
As an isléd lamp at sea
And beyond the ken of mortal men
Set his lonely errantry."
All eyes in the room had turned to Ilurano when he had started the song, and no one noticed that Glorfindel had paled visibly and that a bewildered expression had found its way into his blue gaze. He heard the others clapping after Ilurano's voice had died down, and mechanically moved his hands, but everything seemed far away. A mist had fallen before his eyes, and the fire seemed to give but a dull light. The words "Thank you, Atar" drifted to him as through a great distance of space and time as he wondered what fate it was that the son of Tuor and Idril had to bear now. The song had been but one fashioned for the ears of children, in nothing it resembled the fair lays the Noldor and Vanyar had written, and he was not sure what in it was true and what was not.
"Where have you learned this song?" Glorfindel asked his son, pushing a golden strand of hair back behind a finely pointed ear. "I would like to hear more about the tale that inspired it," he said.
His son turned to him, his expression unreadable.
"Do not feign not to know who Eärendil is. Even I know, and it was not me of the two of us who lived in Ondolinde," he answered briefly, and motioned to Súlindo to sit on the thick rug that covered the floor. "I need to depart now, time grows late. Mother, farewell. I shall return soon, do not fear. I will not abandon you," he added as an afterthought, and it was clear to everyone in the room to whom his words were addressed.
"The same I say to you, my love," ignoring Glorfindel he went over to the chair in which Lairë had settled. "I will think of you in the time of our absence." Kneeling down beside her, he took his wife's hand and still in his, he placed it on her belly, where a new life was growing. "I regret to miss this time, but you know I have no choice but to obey. "
"I know," she answered simply. "But it will do no ill. If you were not there in the first days of the babe's life, it would be of more harm. A child ought to know its father."
"I will be there when the time comes. My absence will take no more time than a month, whatever comes to pass."
Next he sat down next to his son, who had examined the golden, blue and silver threads in the dark green carpet that formed delicate patterns, with his fingers. Súlindo looked up, his eyes reflecting the firelight.
"I will be back soon, you have my word. I promise to you to hold true to it."
"By the Lord Manwe and the Lady Varda Elentári?"
"Yes, by the Lord Manwe and the Lady Varda Elentári. And if I find something that might be a gift worthy of my son, I will bring it home with me."
"But I just want you to come back," Súlindo whispered into his father's ear, who nodded and got up. At last he looked to Glorfindel. "Farewell," he said before leaving the room, the others following him.
Outside, Nermi stood waiting with Ilurano's pale grey horse. It stepped around and snorted, eager to be able to run once more. The bells on its bridle tinkled and the pale gems on it flashed as the caught a ray of moonlight. Ilurano, now wearing his travelling cloak, adjusted the straps of his pack and, patting the neck of the horse, mounted it with a swift, elegant movement.
Horse and rider sped away swiftly, the light sound of the hoofs sounded loud in the nightly silence. When Ilurano had arrived at the eastward bent of the road that would lead him out of sight, he reined in his horse and halted. Turning around on the horseback shortly, he waved at them, and then dashed off again, disappearing out of view.
While the sound of the hoofs faded away into the distance, Glorfindel suggested to go inside, for it had grown late already, and smiled at the young elf on his arm, who had trouble keeping his eyes open.
"It would be a wise thing to do," Lairë agreed, who had still been looking into the distance, a hand resting on her belly once more. "I just hope he returns in time," she murmured and followed the others back into the building.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Quenya names and words:
Elentinwë - Glinting Starlight, wife of GlorfindelSúlindo – Windsinger, son of Lairë and Ilurano
Lairë - means either Summer or Poem, decide which one you like better, wife of Ilurano
Ilurano - Universe-Wanderer, mother-name and prophetic name of Glorfindel´s son
Nermi - field-spirit (pl. Nermir, a group of the Ainur, fays of the meads, she is an elf, though), one of the housemaids
Olórin - Quenya-name of Gandalf
Andor – Land of the Gift, a name of Númenor that the Valar used
Arien - the maiden steering the sun-ship
Calacirya – The Pass of Light, a gap in the Encircling Mountains
Pelori – The Encircling Mountains protecting Valinor
Amil – mother
Atar - father (see Sindarin "Adar")
Some notes about the chapter:
I honestly do not know if young elves loose their teeth. It is pure speculation.
The Tale-fire is, as said in the story, a custom of the elves in Tol Eressea that was kept burning by magic. I am not sure here either, if the elves of Valinor adopted this custom. But it makes a nice bit of symbolism, so I decided to keep it in the story.
The "The Voyage of Eärendil" is a poem written by J.R.R. Tolkien, and published in the Lost Tales II.
Response to reviewers:
TreeHugger:
Thank you, mellon nin. I think you have made a very true statement here, about women writing other women… of course, many stories are used self-inserts and wish-fulfilment, but I try not to do this here. Of course, every character we write has got bits and pieces from ourselves in him/her, but that is hard to avoid.
Yes, Glorfindel should be really pleased. Súlindo is really cute, and I actually got the request if he could be adopted ;) It is best not to think about what will come to pass in the future now. Wait some more chapters, and maybe it will be a bit easier for you then. You already know the outline, don't you? It is basically still the same. The relationship of Glorfindel and Ilurano will not be easily mended, but there happens something that makes it a bit easier… for both. As for the eagle… I think it was needed to lighten the rather contemplative mood in this chapter, and it came in handy for some foreshadowing.
Dragon-of-the-North:
I am very happy to hear that I could live up your expectations. It doesn't matter to me whether you give the feedback in English or German, just keep it coming. I am not making it easy for him, true… but as I said to Tree.. you will have to wait a bit to see further development into the right direction for Glor and his son. Thank you for the feedback, and I promise not to take as long with updating as I did this time.
Purple-sorceress:
Thank you for the nice feedback. I am glad you liked the Istari idea, at least Gandalf/Olórin will get greater significance in the later development of the story, and this was a nice way to introduce him.
Klose:
Yes, a thank you for you. You deserve it, don't be so shy! I hope you like the
interaction of Glor and his son in this chapter, and I am glad that you like
Elentinwë.
Don't be ashamed of ACfS, it is a wonderful story, and I hope you will continue it soon. Be assured, that your Laurefin, though she is a minor Mary Sue, is a wonderful character. And no, your review was not but a jumbled mess of thoughts. Actually, it was more coherent than the ones I manage to give.
Finch :
Thank you. It is truly not easy for him, this is true... but there may very well be a way to escape his past, at least temporarily. You are right about the scenes with the Maiar, this was exactly what I intended to do. And I suppose the eagle will be a recurrent feature, yes – but mostly not because of me, but also, and more important, because Tolkien has used it in so many occasions.
Wait a while, and you will be enlightened further. It will not take this long for chapter 4. =)
Twin03
Thanks! I hope this chapter was worth the wait.
Queen of Shadows
They will make up eventually… or not? I you will have to wait for the answer ;) But your review was all too true, and yes, he Glorfindel does leave again. He has to.
Kazaera:
There are really not enough Glorfindel-fics, someone should really change that! Thank you for your thoughts on Elentinwë and Súlindo, I really appreciate the fact that you think she is not a Mary Sue. And well… here is more, I hope you liked this third chapter.
Wen Quendalie:
* bows as well * I feel honoured that you say this… but then, one can never do enough research, one of the facts that this chapter took so incredibly long to write. Other than that, I am truly trying to flash out the characters clearly, so people can identify with them. As for your knowledge about Glorfindel, don't take this story as Canon. Tolkien never said that he was married or even had children, so this part is purely speculation from my side. Let me know if you would like to talk about this, and I will drop you a mail.
Fymhrisfawr:
Thank you for the feedback =) As you see, I have had time enough to write, and well.. here is the next chapter. I hope you like it as well. If you should find any typos, please let me know so I can fix them and re-upload the chapter.
Sunsong:
Of course I did not stop writing on this story, though it may have seemed so for a while. I promise to try and get the chapters coming faster! Thank you for the feedback, and I am flattered that you can not think of CC. Surely my story can't be this good…
Kaltia the Shadowcat:
Thank you, Kaltia. I am glad as well that the plagiarist has been banned from ff.net, hopefully this is something she is not going to do again, no matter where.
I can't say how happy it makes me that you enjoy this story so much, and give such feedback. Thanks!
Celebrain of Imladris:
Thank you for the feedback in the first place, it was really helpful, and made me think about what I wrote, as well about what I am going to write. You are absolutely right with asking "why", this is what everything comes down to in the end. As for the fact that everything could have been slightly more extended – you are right, but I did not want to give away too much, and I am trying to built up some background here, so the reader can think him/herself about what happened "off-screen". Some flashbacks will come in later, maybe they will explain more about the time after his return.
About the last flashback: Yes, he may seem uncompassionate and self-centred there, but then, he was not always the elf he now is. Everyone makes mistakes, and I suppose that very strong emotions played a big part here. Despite me trying to explain this away, I think you are right about Elentinwë, and tried to incorporate this in this chapter. Thank you again for the CC, and yes, I know how rare it is for you to give feedback. You told me ;)
Elvea Aure aka Amanfalathiel:
Now this is most certainly the most unique review I ever got, but I am still very glad about the fact that you like GF,SS. I will most certainly continue, do not fear.
If you enjoyed this chapter and/or have any constructive criticism, please leave a review.
