Haldir paced about the hall muttering to himself in a disgruntled manner, he was not aware of how long he had been in this room now, all sense of time was distorted with the absence of meals and routine, though he slept still, he could not be sure that he slept at night, sleep came when he was tired and his waking hours were filled with thoughts of that which had passed, of death, of another life in the forests of Brethil.
He stopped before the elf, who was now seated on his cot, which served as a bed. The elf fascinated him, in the time that Haldir had resided within this hall, the elf had not spoken, or slept and had given little indication that he was even aware of his presence.
Haldir sat on the floor and studied the elf. His face was partially obscured by hair of spun gold; his eyes were blue, like the sapphire that had graced his wife's circlet, though there was such a sadness and echo of pain within the depths that they sparkled no longer.
Rising to his knees, Haldir reached up and cautiously brushed the golden locks to one side that he might better see the face of this elf, a distant memory was surfacing in his mind, but he would be sure. The elf made no protest as the man brushed the silken hair to one side. With the elf's chiselled features now revealed to the man, his memory became clear to him.
Haldir, unable and unwilling to contain himself grabbed the elf's chin and forced the elf to look directly at him, 'I know you elf' he growled 'I know you for the coward that you are' with that, he released the elf's chin roughly. With disgust clear in his face, he rose and walked to the other side of the hall and sat again against a pillar, his back towards the elf.
'Ten thousand of my kin, my people did I lead to serve beneath Fingon's banners against the forces of the dark' Haldir's voice cracked as he spoke, his words but a whisper, though loud enough for any elf to hear 'Not one returned to the halls of my father, Not one to tell those left behind of our fate' Haldir's tears flowed freely now, the pain, the regret in his voice, evident in his words and his tone.
He felt a hand settle upon his shoulder and heard the first words from his companion's mouth, 'I am not without compassion'. If Haldir had not been so distraught at this time, he might have thought this a strange declaration after so long a silence, but as it was, it escaped his notice.
'What use is your compassion to me? Elf, your sword arm would have served better' Haldir turned towards the elf 'why did you run from the battle?'
The elf sat next to the man and searched his mind for the memory of these events. The man he assumed was referring to the battle of Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the fifth battle in the Wars of Beleriand. Aiya! The elf thought, those were cursed days for men and elves alike.
The elf's memories returning, he remembered arriving with a host of elves from the city of Gondolin, under the banners of Turgon, on the fourth day, arriving just before the hosts of Maedhros assaulted the enemy from the east and the hosts of the sons of Fëanor assaulted the enemy from the rear. The battle was fierce as the enemy brought forth all manner of evil, orcs, wolf riders, balrogs and dragons, these evils coming between the hosts of Fingon and Maedhros. And it was at this time that many of the Easterlings fled the field of battle and the sons of Ulfang turned their allegiance to the powers of darkness and did assault the hosts of the sons of Fëanor, whom they had called allies.
The elf's thoughts moved on apace to the call for the retreat of the forces of Turgon, his Lord. He and his men guarded the retreat to the left of Turgon's force and the remnants of Fingon's people, who then would have been left to see him flee? The Men of the Dor-Lómin! The brave men of the north, who stood firm against the forces of evil and ensured their safe retreat.
The elf frowned, and took a lock of the man's hair in his fingers, 'your hair is of the wrong hue to be one of Hador's kin.' The hair of the Dor-Lómin was of gold in colour, much like his own, but the lock of hair he held between his fingers was pale, more akin to silver than to gold.
The man turned his tear-soaked eyes to the elf 'I am Haldir of Brethil, I am...I was wed to the daughter of Hador. They are kin to me.
'Your memory does you a disservice, Haldir of Brethil' the elf said quietly his eyes soft and full of compassion and a new found respect for this man 'does your memory see me flee in a fit of cowardice, or retreat in order upon the command of my Lord?'
'I know not' the man replied 'I know only that we were cut down like animals, we had not the strength to hold back the storm'
'You had strength and courage enough, my friend, to save the lives of many of my kin that day, my own included' the elf replied, bringing his arm about the man's shoulders in a gesture of comfort and friendship.
Haldir looked again towards the elf as he found comfort in his embrace, 'What is your name?' he asked
'I am Glorfindel of Gondolin' the elf replied
After this initial exchange of words and of identities, Haldir and Glorfindel settled once again into silence, though it was now an amicable silence and occasional words were shared.