Disclaimer: Dis-claimer!
A/N: Sorry for the wait! Mostly filler, once again. Yiss, I am now listing what this fic is NOT : Romance, Add-on to the Fellowship, Mary-Sue/Sue-Mary, Canon or Alternate Ending for the FELLOWSHIP. It is AU and contains a lot of elves. Yay!
*
Ren sat on her bed in her room, randomly playing with a few strands of her hair and yawning.
Tired...
It had been an hour since she had run from the Elronds, and now she was bored stiff, but very tired. Somehow unable to find rest, the human resorted to lying on top of the sheets and staring at the ceiling for inspiration. What was going to happen? Would this alter the outcome of the Fellowship? Would Sauron win? Would Elbereth come and kill them for dropping one of the stars from the sky? Was Manwe going to come and kill them for angering Elbereth? Too many questions and even less answers. More and more complex outcomes come into her imagination as she tried to fathom what to do and how to do it.
Something in the corner of the room suddenly caught Ren's eye. It was a strangely familiar backpack. Wait. It was her backpack. Moving forward, she rummaged through it, wandering how it had got there in the first place. She pulled out her copy of the Silmarillion. Idly flipping through the pages containing the Silmarilli, she looked sadly at one sentence. It told of the fact that the silmarilli could not be destroyed by any power on Arda.
Would we thus have to go to Aman? Or... The Void that is Without?
Ren tried to banish the thought from her head. She had no wish to go anywhere near Melkor for the next age or so. Ren was more than a little occupied, so she didn't notice that Glorfindel was standing patiently at the door frame waiting for her to notice him until he knocked softly. He book flew from her hands as she spun around abruptly, half falling and half rising off the bed in shock. The elf at the door looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
'Bloody hell, Glor, don't do that!'
The blond elf only walked over and picked up the book. His eyebrow shot up further at the title. Ren tried to pry it away.
'I would not suggest you read that unless you know everything about the first and second age, Glorfindel. Let go!'
Glorfindel merely plucked it from her grasp with one hand and began to flip through it. The Elda was a surprisingly fast reader as he turned from one chapter to another, scanning each briefly as Ren tapped her foot against the floor waiting for him to finish. About ten minutes later, he finally had his fill of information and the book was swiftly snatched from his lax hold. Glorfindel looked slightly troubled over what he had seen in the book. Even though he had survived through most of it and knew nearly all of what happened, it was much more in depth that many annals then kept on the face of Middle-Earth.
'How do you know all of this, Sirithbrethil?'
'Im u-heina.' [I do not know.]
'Le u-henia?' [You do not know?]
'Yé.' [Yes.]
'Ananta le henia ya yéva?' [And yet you understand what will be?]
'Fir ilqualmë?' [We are all going to die?]
'Im estel avanë.' [I hope not.]
Ren looked to the West, looking at the red globe slowly pacing towards the horizon, pulled by Arien.
'We're all going to die anyway. Either we get razed down to the ground by Sauron in his rage and want for either the Ring or the Silmarils, get flattened by Elbereth for Eärendil, get thrown into the Void by Manwë, or go throw ourselves into the Void to get rid of these.'
Ren hefted her silmaril up. Glorfindel slowly took it from the cloak that was bunched around the jewel. The silmaril dropped, cool and bright into his hand. Glorfindel was brought back to times before as he gazed at it. The turned it around in his palm.
'A Silmaril. Something that I hate with all of my heart. So much war, so much death. So much grief.'
'Nirnaeth Arnoediad...' [Tears unnumbered. (Was also name of a major battle from which Glorfindel and Ecthelion escaped with Turgon to Gondolin)]
Glorfindel turned to the West as well as he recalled the fighting and war.
'Nirnaeth Arnoediad was a fruitless battle. So many of the Eldar fell, too many lives wasted and so many Houses of valour burned down to the ground. The High King trampled into the ground by Gothmog, the treachery of the Second Born. What hope we had faded in that battle, so close were we to victory until Melkor sent out his forces and wiped out all that was left. What did the people of Gondolin do? Flee. Flee from battle like cowards.'
'It was not your fault. It was nobody's fault. Gondolin was the last hope for the Elves at that point in time. Húrin was wise to ask Turgon to flee. Unless you wanted to die earlier than when you did?'
'What good did it do? Ecthelion and I hacked away so many, and yet more still came.'
'You were retreating, Glorfindel, and not even foresight could have said. But those are times past.'
Glorfindel stared down at the silmaril in disgust before handing it back to Ren.
'But the past has come back to haunt us.'
*
Erestor, Shu Wen and Inez found the two like that just before sunset, still talking. They had, by that time, cast aside the talk of impending doom and were, once again, quarrelling with each other. Ren was staring at him.
'I tell you, Glorfindel means "Golden Haired Horror". Glor-fin-del!'
'Sirithbrethil, do you wish to get your head severed off? I told you, it means "Golden Tress"!'
Glorfindel proceeded to brandish a handful of his gold hair in Ren's face.
'You act like a horror, and you are named as a horror!'
'That is in Sindarin. My native language and mother tongue is Quenya. And in Quenya, it means Golden Tress!'
'But you speak Sindarin!'
'You know why I speak Sindarin!'
'Just because everyone else does does not mean you have to!'
'If anyone is the horror here, Sirithbrethil, it is you.'
'Orc.'
'Balrog.'
'Warg.'
'Troll.'
Erestor stepped in before it could get any worse. Glorfindel looked up at him.
'Erestor, seas equë im u-glorfindel.' [Erestor, please say that I am not glorfindel.]
Erestor grinned.
'Glorfindel as in Golden Tress or Glorfindel as in Golden haired horror?'
*
That night, dinner was a rather strange affair. Elrond was sitting at the head of the table, as usual, while Earendil sat on his right and Erestor on his left. Beside Erestor was Ren, who sat facing Glorfindel. Next to Glorfindel sat Shu Wen, and Inez across from her. Sara and Diana filled the next row. Elladan and Elrohir occupied the second last two seats, while Aragorn and Arwen sat facing each other in the last seats. The Silmarils sat on the chair directly facing Elrond, wrapped up in custom made holders to prevent any light from shining through and distracting the Elves.
The Silmarils, however, were not the centre of attention that night. Arwen and Aragorn were both soaked to the skin, and the five human children were sniggering madly. Apparently, while Aragorn and Arwen were getting some quiet time on their bridge, Arwen had... accidentally tripped on a piece of taunt rope that had somehow come out of nowhere and had fallen into one of the outlets of the Branduin, dragging Aragorn down with her. Elrond was gripping his knife rather tightly and sawing on his food a little with more than a little bit of force, while Glorfindel had a look of long suffering on his face. But more important things were to be done on the morrow.
The new Council of Elrond.