A teaser to make you all misserable. =D I live to make people misserable. ;
)
Gilded Rose of the House of Gondolin
A tale of Glorfindel (and Erestor) by Ellie in ElfPajamas.
Okay, I'm taking out artistic license. Glorfindel's name means 'Golden Flower', so I'm calling him the Gilded Rose. The rose is the most beautiful of all flowers and certainly one of the more expensive. 'Gilded Roses' are rare. Glorfindel is rare and precious, powerful and fragile. Like a flower will succumb to the frost. Okay, the eloquence ends here.
I'm swiping some ideas -and building upon them- from my friend Erestor's 'Elves of the Third Age'. The story is excellent, and can be found in my favorite story listing.
Rating: PG13. My angst doesn't go much beyond PG but I'm erring on the side of caution.
Genre: Angst/Humor/Spiritual/Action/Adventure/Romance
Summary: Glorfindel and Erestor's hunting trip turns dangerous. Who will fall? Who is the one in trouble? What's spiritual about it?
Spiritual: I don't believe in the Halls of Mandos, and you will find me immovable on this point. Since Tolkien wrote that Glorfindel passed through the Halls once, I see no need to bring it up again. My idea of Glorfindel is that he does have all his memories, Glorfindel of Imladris and Glorfindel of Gondolin are one and the same, and that some things haunt him. One aspect of this story will be healing.
Hunts and Night Terrors
Glorfindel sat as still as a statue, staring -unseeing- into the flames of the small campfire. Erestor had insisted upon it, lest a band of humans stumble upon them and mistake them for Orcs. Glorfindel could have quite happily done without, and Erestor unfortunately was missing the example of why. Asfaloth nudged his master, shifting his feet with growing unease. Glorfindel's face was lost in the depths of his hood, hidden in shadow, but his eyes were not, and the reflection of the dancing firelight made his blue eyes glow with an almost disturbing light. Glorfindel didn't see the campfire, he didn't see Erestor, who was sound asleep on the other side, and he was getting ever closer to the flames.
In his mind's eye, Gondolin was in flames, Ecthelion had fallen, and he was facing a massive creature that made his spirit quell within him. The Balrog. The Balrog, wreathed in flame, gave Glorfindel a firey glare and set upon him. Glorfindel summoned all his strength and fought him, he had to protect the remnant.
Asfaloth knew that Glorfindel was in trouble, and tried desparately to bring his beloved master's mind back to the present. The frightened stallion's efforts were in vain. He looked to Erestor. Perhaps the cranky Elf could help. He nudged Erestor awake, seizing the bewildered advisor's cloak in his teeth and forcing him to look at Glorfindel.
Glorfindel could feel the heat that radiated off of the Balrog, feel it drying out his skin. He knew that in was only a matter of time before the flames engulfed him. He drove a dagger into the beast, then blindly tried to scramble up the cliff. He felt it grab him. He was falling, falling, falling.
Erestor gasped and dove at Glorfindel, knocking the Elf backward and smothering the greedy flames that had begun to lick at his long golden hair.
Glorfindel gasped as Ecthelion leapt into view and pinned him to the cliff, throwing a cloak over his head.
"Anírach i dulu nín? Mellon nin?" (Do you want my help? My friend?) Erestor asked, pulling the cloak off of Glorfindel's head when the golden haired Elf began to struggle.
"Le hannon, Erestor. Ú-aníron den." (I thank thee, Erestor. I do not want it.) Glorfindel sighed, smacking his friend with the cloak and fingering his singed locks.
Glorfindel looked frightened, having realized why Erestor'd had to smother him.
"Ortherithach hain, avo 'osto." (You will defeat them, don't worry.) Erestor whispered, seeing the painful memories that were surfacing in his best friend's eyes.
"Ú-chenion." (I do not understand.) Glorfindel whispered, staring out into the darkness. Why the memories still haunted him, he might never understand.
Erestor grinned wickedly.
"Ma merilyë yulma neno?"* (Do you want a cup of water?) he teased, motioning to Glorfindel's singed hair.
"Mîbo orch!" (Go kiss an Orc!) Glorfindel shot back, giving Erestor a gentle shove.
Erestor shoved back and soon they were tumbling all over each other. Erestor, cranky and serious as he was, did not like to see Glorfindel act that way. If there was any way to lighten the Elf lord's mood, Erestor did it. Of course, they were both terribly talented when it came to making each other misserable. Erestor seemed to have no intention of ending their trip, so Glorfindel didn't worry about that. Erestor *did*, however, put out the campfire. Glorfindel looked at him in surprise. Erestor just smiled.
"Henion. Gerich faer vara, you do not want any competition." (I understand. You have a firey spirit,) Erestor said, then threw his cloak back over him and went to sleep.
"Hennaid." (Thanks.) Glorfindel said softly. He leaned back against Asfaloth's side and fell asleep.
~~~footnotes~~~
*Quenya. All other Elvish phrases in this chapter are in Sindarin. Erestor is a bookworm. If he doesn't know any Quenya I would be surprised. (Especially because he hangs out with Glorfindel.)
Gilded Rose of the House of Gondolin
A tale of Glorfindel (and Erestor) by Ellie in ElfPajamas.
Okay, I'm taking out artistic license. Glorfindel's name means 'Golden Flower', so I'm calling him the Gilded Rose. The rose is the most beautiful of all flowers and certainly one of the more expensive. 'Gilded Roses' are rare. Glorfindel is rare and precious, powerful and fragile. Like a flower will succumb to the frost. Okay, the eloquence ends here.
I'm swiping some ideas -and building upon them- from my friend Erestor's 'Elves of the Third Age'. The story is excellent, and can be found in my favorite story listing.
Rating: PG13. My angst doesn't go much beyond PG but I'm erring on the side of caution.
Genre: Angst/Humor/Spiritual/Action/Adventure/Romance
Summary: Glorfindel and Erestor's hunting trip turns dangerous. Who will fall? Who is the one in trouble? What's spiritual about it?
Spiritual: I don't believe in the Halls of Mandos, and you will find me immovable on this point. Since Tolkien wrote that Glorfindel passed through the Halls once, I see no need to bring it up again. My idea of Glorfindel is that he does have all his memories, Glorfindel of Imladris and Glorfindel of Gondolin are one and the same, and that some things haunt him. One aspect of this story will be healing.
Hunts and Night Terrors
Glorfindel sat as still as a statue, staring -unseeing- into the flames of the small campfire. Erestor had insisted upon it, lest a band of humans stumble upon them and mistake them for Orcs. Glorfindel could have quite happily done without, and Erestor unfortunately was missing the example of why. Asfaloth nudged his master, shifting his feet with growing unease. Glorfindel's face was lost in the depths of his hood, hidden in shadow, but his eyes were not, and the reflection of the dancing firelight made his blue eyes glow with an almost disturbing light. Glorfindel didn't see the campfire, he didn't see Erestor, who was sound asleep on the other side, and he was getting ever closer to the flames.
In his mind's eye, Gondolin was in flames, Ecthelion had fallen, and he was facing a massive creature that made his spirit quell within him. The Balrog. The Balrog, wreathed in flame, gave Glorfindel a firey glare and set upon him. Glorfindel summoned all his strength and fought him, he had to protect the remnant.
Asfaloth knew that Glorfindel was in trouble, and tried desparately to bring his beloved master's mind back to the present. The frightened stallion's efforts were in vain. He looked to Erestor. Perhaps the cranky Elf could help. He nudged Erestor awake, seizing the bewildered advisor's cloak in his teeth and forcing him to look at Glorfindel.
Glorfindel could feel the heat that radiated off of the Balrog, feel it drying out his skin. He knew that in was only a matter of time before the flames engulfed him. He drove a dagger into the beast, then blindly tried to scramble up the cliff. He felt it grab him. He was falling, falling, falling.
Erestor gasped and dove at Glorfindel, knocking the Elf backward and smothering the greedy flames that had begun to lick at his long golden hair.
Glorfindel gasped as Ecthelion leapt into view and pinned him to the cliff, throwing a cloak over his head.
"Anírach i dulu nín? Mellon nin?" (Do you want my help? My friend?) Erestor asked, pulling the cloak off of Glorfindel's head when the golden haired Elf began to struggle.
"Le hannon, Erestor. Ú-aníron den." (I thank thee, Erestor. I do not want it.) Glorfindel sighed, smacking his friend with the cloak and fingering his singed locks.
Glorfindel looked frightened, having realized why Erestor'd had to smother him.
"Ortherithach hain, avo 'osto." (You will defeat them, don't worry.) Erestor whispered, seeing the painful memories that were surfacing in his best friend's eyes.
"Ú-chenion." (I do not understand.) Glorfindel whispered, staring out into the darkness. Why the memories still haunted him, he might never understand.
Erestor grinned wickedly.
"Ma merilyë yulma neno?"* (Do you want a cup of water?) he teased, motioning to Glorfindel's singed hair.
"Mîbo orch!" (Go kiss an Orc!) Glorfindel shot back, giving Erestor a gentle shove.
Erestor shoved back and soon they were tumbling all over each other. Erestor, cranky and serious as he was, did not like to see Glorfindel act that way. If there was any way to lighten the Elf lord's mood, Erestor did it. Of course, they were both terribly talented when it came to making each other misserable. Erestor seemed to have no intention of ending their trip, so Glorfindel didn't worry about that. Erestor *did*, however, put out the campfire. Glorfindel looked at him in surprise. Erestor just smiled.
"Henion. Gerich faer vara, you do not want any competition." (I understand. You have a firey spirit,) Erestor said, then threw his cloak back over him and went to sleep.
"Hennaid." (Thanks.) Glorfindel said softly. He leaned back against Asfaloth's side and fell asleep.
~~~footnotes~~~
*Quenya. All other Elvish phrases in this chapter are in Sindarin. Erestor is a bookworm. If he doesn't know any Quenya I would be surprised. (Especially because he hangs out with Glorfindel.)