*G A Mercy looks up from a pile of paper work on her desk* Welcome back to all of my readers! I have to say that I am beyond thrilled to have found that there are many other Elrond/Glorfindel supporters out there. I must admit, when I first saw the pairing I was rather opposed to it, simply because I just didn't see Elrond being in a romantic relationship with any character, but since then I've really come to love it. This story is an honest attempt of mine to get a little more support for this particular pairing, because while I've seen it as a side pairing in numerous stories I have yet to run across many stories where Elrond/Glorfindel is the actual focus pairing as it will be in mine.

At this time I want to take a moment to recognize some of my reviewers and to thank them for their comments, which truly do mean a lot.

Surreal: Isn't Glorfindel wonderful? He's a character that I've always been fascinated with, because there is only so much information one can find concerning him. Thank you for your comments; I'm pleased that you enjoyed my prologue, brief as it was. I hope that you'll like the rest of this story as well. As to borrowing Glorfindel, feel free; he should go wherever he is an inspiration. Thank you for your review!

melissa greenleaf: I too am particularly fond of Elrond/Glorfindel fics, obviously or I wouldn't be writing this. Thank you for the tremendous compliment, by the way. As for a plot, we'll just have to wait and see how things progress, hm? I will most definitely continue with this story, and I hope this update is soon enough for you. And I assure you that I am not an author who updates based on review numbers; I write because that's what I love to do, not because I'm in the game for the ego stroking, so you will never see me delay a chapter because I don't have a set number of reviews. Thank you for your review!

tenshiamanda: I too am anxiously awaiting the beginning of this story, hopefully it will turn out to be something worthy; I have my fingers crossed. Again, I hope that this update is soon enough. Thank you for the kitties, by the way, they are adorable and I'll make certain to keep them away from valuables. *winks* Thank you for your review!

: Thank you for saying so! I can't wait to find out what happens either! (Glorfindel: Mercy! Don't tell them that! You're supposed to make the readers think you have a plan. A plan! G A Mercy: …But that would be lying. Glorfindel: Not lying exactly, just not telling the whole truth. G A Mercy: … Glorfindel: *sighs* Nevermind.) Thank you for your review!

Karaoke Superstar: I think that's the first time I have ever been insulted for sounding intelligent, Wil. Well, you are entitled to tease, I suppose; you're probably one of the few people who can do so and actually get away with it. *winks* And a large vocabulary comes in handy in this line of work you know, as long as I don't try to spell phonetically like some. *grins in a devilish, unrepentant manner* Thank you for your review!

Lizlego: I'm pleased that you are excited, and isn't the length completely frustrating? However, it made such a wonderful beginning scene in my mind, and it was either leave it at that length or cut it out of the tale completely, and I simply didn't have the heart to let it go. Thank you for your review!

*smiles* Well, now that my author shout outs are through, I suppose that it is as good a time as any to present to you patient readers the first chapter in the tale of the coming of Glorfindel to Imladris (though it might take a few chapters before he actually reaches it).

Chapter One

Sérmela walked slowly along the rocky costal path, holding the reins of the small baggage pony at her side laxly in her hand. A crisp sea breeze stirred through her the locks of her long dark hair, and the little pony snorted softly and tossed his head as it swept across him as well. Sérmela patted his side absently, reaching out to run her free hand lightly over his velvet muzzle as she turned her head to gaze thoughtfully at the sea that lay stretched out for miles to her right.

Gentle ocean waves were lapping peacefully at the sandy shore of the beach below her, and gulls wheeled and cried overhead. The scene was lulling and relaxing. The ocean had been since the first dawn of Arda, and long before the arrival of the Quendi. It was over these same ancient waters that the Noldor had traveled in their exile, and somewhere over the wide expanse of shimmering blue lay the land of Valinor.

Sérmela wondered if the passing of a convoy of elves was even noted by the greater powers that controlled the sea and its breeze. For her the thought of Valinor yet held little wonder; she was young still and the rippling, roaring falls of Imladris had more love in her heart. She tried to imagine how any elf could willingly sail from Middle-Earth, especially in such a beautiful time.

Her eyes still scanned the shore below her, as if scouring the land to find an answer to all of her inner puzzlements, and a confusing anxiety was beginning to build inside of her as the elves that walked ahead of her planned to soon leave the ocean path and head overland back home to Imladris. She could not go; there was something that she had yet to find.

Suddenly she stopped and let out a startled cry, her eyes fixed in horror on a still form in the sand. Behind her, and ahead of her as well, the other members of the convoy halted at her dismayed exclamation and wondered what it was that had caused her to cease in her walking.

The pony beside her nickered in distress, but Sérmela paid him little heed as she dropped his reins and raced for the head of the line, ignoring all of the elves that stared at her in amazement. "Ada, Ada stop!" she cried frantically.

Her father, whom was seated on the only horse in the company, looked down upon her in concern as she halted before him, while the elves around him looked on in confusion. "What is it, daughter?" he asked.

"Ada, there is a body back there!" Sérmela gasped.

Narmondor's face grew grave at her news. "A body?" he questioned sharply. "Are you certain of this, Sérmela?"

"Yes, Ada, I saw it, back there on the beach," she panted her affirmation softly.

Narmondor swung easily down off his horse. "Show me," he commanded her. Two elves who had walked at his side came forward as well and Narmondor nodded at them concedingly; one of them, Erlómiel, possessed some small healing knowledge, more than any of them in the company. "The rest of you will remain where you are," he ordered the other elves who were shifting uneasily on their feet.

With a sharp gesture to Sérmela he gave her leave to lead them.

Sérmela began to retrace her steps towards the pack pony, which now seemed miles away with the anxiety building in the pit of her stomach with every second being wasted. She wished that her father would quicken his pace, but Narmondor walked always with a calm, dignified grace and would not be hurried. He insisted that overreacting to any situation would only cause unnecessary panic, and that it was the duty of a leader to maintain order always within his group. Her father often called her hasty for making her swift decisions, chiding her for not thoroughly thinking things through before acting.

When she finally reached the pony she had been leading Sérmela pointed down to the beach to a spot where the sea waves lapped at a dark form sprawled on the sand.

"Down there, Ada," she whispered.

Her elders stood and gazed for a moment to the spot where she pointed, and her father's second companion, Moroco, shook his head. "It is merely sea trash," he stated, "tossed up by the waves, in the wake of last night's storm no doubt. What good would our stopping to investigate do?"

Sérmela's eyes widened in horror as she heard Moroco's callous and unfeeling words, shocked that he could be so cold. "No!" she burst out, and swallowed when three pairs of eyes were trained on her. "We can't just…walk away," she continued. "What if that were one of our kin down there? And – and even if the person wasn't -- " Sérmela broke off her words, unable to continue.

Narmondor continued to face the ocean and look down upon the beach; his own expression and feelings on the matter guarded until Erlómiel touched his arm hesitantly, drawing his attention to her. "Your daughter's heart is right," she told him meekly. "It would be a dishonorable death for any race; we should do something."

"I should ignore this matter and return to our path, the light of Arien dims and I would have us be far from these shores when Ithil rises," he spoke softly, as though to himself, and Sérmela held her breath while awaiting his decision, for she knew at the moment that he was merely pondering the situation. Narmondor spared her a brief glance. "But we will go and see what we shall," he agreed.

"Thank you, Ada," Sérmela said in relief, and she smiled gratefully at Erlómiel for speaking for her.

She followed quickly behind the elder elves as they began to pick a careful path down the rocky beach turf, and Sérmela found that her heart was pounding in her ears, so afraid was she of what they might find. When the four elves reached the still, limp figure Sérmela knelt with her father and Erlómiel beside it, while Moroco remained standing.

Erlómiel reached out a hand and turned the person over onto his back, for the figure was quite obviously a male. Sérmela could tell from one quick glance at his delicately pointed ears that he was indeed an elf as they were. His fair skin was pale with a faintly bluish tone that was anything but natural, his long golden hair lay tangled and matted, and his clothing torn to mere shreds with every inch of him covered in sand. The thing that saddened Sérmela the most about his appearance, however, was the fact that his eyes were closed to them, and not merely in the elven state of rest. She bowed her head in grief, but looked back up when Erlómiel grasped her hand.

"No, Sérmela, his is yet alive," Erlómiel told her firmly. "See how his chest rises ever so slightly?"

"Alive?" Moroco questioned in shock.

Sérmela could understand his surprise, because she felt it as well, though hers was a mixture of relief as well. How could an elf in his condition possibly be alive?

"See the debris on this beach," Erlómiel pointed out to them, and for the first time Sérmela took notice of the driftwood that lay scattered all about them. "He must have been sailing on the ocean and got caught in last night's storm. The waves have carried him here."

"If that is the case, then we should leave," Moroco advised. "Surely this one is cursed by the Valar, we should have nothing to do with him."

"You cannot do that," Sérmela protested. "He is blessed by the Valar to live yet after all that he has been through. We would be murderers if we left him now!"

She and Erlómiel stared pleadingly at Narmondor who looked back at them with equally serious and considering eyes. "I take it that you agree with this murder accusation?" he addressed Erlómiel.

"If I could do anything for this elf with what little skills I possess I should feel compelled to remain at his side," Erlómiel answered Narmondor honestly, keeping her clear blue eyes trained on his own steel gray orbs to let him understand how serious she was.

Narmondor turned his head away into the breeze and closed his eyes, his face set in a thoughtful expression. "I have no time to spare an injured elf in my caravan," he stated slowly. "I wish us to be home to Imladris as soon as we may be."

Sérmela bit her lip in agitation; she knew well her father's habit of making good time without having to rush to accomplish it, having accompanied him on several similar journeys. If he thought this elf would slow him down he would refuse to take him aboard. Already he appeared hesitant, and Sérmela knew that it was she who must act quickly to take this burden upon herself.

"I would look after him, Ada, he should be no delay. He might ride upon our baggage pony and I would take some of the little beast's burden to carry on my own shoulders so that it is possible," Sérmela said.

"What does this elf mean to you that you would do such a thing, daughter?" Narmondor questioned her sternly.

"I do not know, Ada," she admitted hesitantly, "but he was beautiful, don't you think? And he will be beautiful again once he is well. He looks to have the grace and light of the Eldar in him and I too feel compelled to care for him."

Her father sighed deeply, obviously troubled. "I had meant to leave the pony with a Breelander if I could; we have little use for such a beast in Imladris. With him gone we could make it to the ford of the Bruinen by the Great East Road in four days time."

"It may be that this stranger would recover by the time we reach Bree, Ada," Sérmela pressured lightly. "Maybe even by the time we reach the land of the Shire, and if he did we could leave the pony there instead and not have to deal with the Bree folk at all." She knew of her father's aversion to humans, and she worked on persuading him by speaking of such a plan, as he considered it she played her last card.

"Please, have mercy on him as though he were a son of yours," she said.

Narmondor sighed once again, though not as heavily as before. "Very well," he agreed finally, his reluctance clear. "We will take this stranger into our number and stop for the night so that he may be tended to here before we attempt to move on. If, however, he does not awaken with the rising of Arien I will have to think on this once again."

Sérmela reached out and tenderly brushed a lock of blonde hair from her elf's face – that was how she was beginning to think of him in her mind, as her elf. She was sure that the Valar had entrusted him to her, at least for a time. "Thank you, Ada," she whispered a second time.

"I will pray to Elbereth that this stranger will not be our doom," Moroco said darkly.

"Nay, look at him Moroco," Erlómiel instructed the suspicious elf. "How could he be?"

Indeed, Sérmela agreed as she gazed down upon his form, how could he be?

G A Mercy: Ah, this chapter is the one where things got tricky. I have introduced several original characters, though I don't know if more than two of them will play a major role in the chapters to come. Séremela, I think, will be here for the duration of the tale, though I don't want readers to mistake me and think that my story is focusing on her; it's not. The focus of this story is Glorfindel. Narmondor is also going to be mentioned, though I don't know if I'm going to take as many pains in building his character, as I will be doing with Séremela, we'll just have to wait and see how it progresses.

Glorfindel: Erlómiel at the moment is a mystery, as is Moroco.

G A Mercy: I had to make up these elvish names on my own, and I'm not quite sure whether or not I have managed to produced proper Quenya names, I apologize to any who think that I've completely butchered them. In Quenya their meanings are: Moroco – "bear", Narmondor – "wolf", Erlómiel – "(female) alone in the night" (hopefully that's what it means, at any rate), and as for Séremela I have no idea whatsoever, as I got her name randomly out of an elvish name generator.

Glorfindel: Remember, Mercy is not particularly knowledgeable in the elvish language, so most likely more than half the time she won't even be able to tell you whether it's Quenya or Sindarin that she is using.

G A Mercy: As for the locations I have little information on when the city of Bree was founded, or what dealings the elves of Imladris had with the Shire before Bilbo's coming. I am using a lot of guesswork in this story. I am going to assume that Bree is still a relatively small settlement at the time of this story. As for the actual time period, at the moment I'm estimating it to be around the year 1601 of the Third Age, a little after the Istari first came to Middle Earth and the Hobbits began occupying lands north of the Brandúin (Brandywine) River; this is a good 800 years before the ring comes into the possession of Gollum, and a good 1400 years before the Fellowship is formed to destroy it. On another note, I do not know if elves would travel the Great East Road openly or not, but as it is a tentative time of peace I am going to assume that they will use it instead of tramping about in the wilds as Aragorn and the hobbits did on their journey from Bree to Rivendell.

Glorfindel: And in regards to the time it would take to travel from the Grey Havens and the coastline to Imladris…Mercy has no clue what she's doing, so she will probably end up making the journey either too long or too short.

G A Mercy: Again, my apologies, but Tolkien knew what he was doing with his stories a little better than I do.

Glorfindel: Mercy hopes that her readers have enjoyed this first chapter as much as they have the prologue piece, and that you will continue to review and offer any comments or suggestions that you might have.