By Khylaren
Chapter 1Glorfindel guided Asfaloth into the woods that bordered the banks of the Bruinen, following the path between the trees. As was his wont, he kept a sharp eye for anything out of the ordinary, even as he simply enjoyed a lazy afternoon's ride. Even on his day off, he was ever mindful of his duty to keep the borders of his lord's land safe from harm.
He passed deeper into the forest, Asfaloth carefully picking his way over fallen branches and around smaller trees, and Glorfindel looked around him with pleasure. The riotous colors of the leaves brightened the floor of the woods, and he admired the contrasts of reds, oranges and yellows against the occasional brown of earth. His gaze turned ahead, and his keen eyes caught a glimpse of a color unexpected; a flash of green amongst the colors of autumn.
At first he thought it was merely a patch of grass showing through the carpet of fallen leaves, but as he drew closer, he realized by its shape it could not be. By now he could tell it was a woman – either dead or sleeping, on the floor beneath the trees. Her back was to him, and he could see little of her features beyond the length of reddish brown hair that fell across her shoulders and mingled with the leaves.
He drew Asfaloth to a halt and slid from the stallion's back, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Carefully he approached, all his reflexes on alert should it prove a ruse. He could see the steady rise and fall of her breathing, but nothing in her posture indicated she was aware of his approach. Slowly, silently, he circled around her until he could see her face.
Glorfindel froze in his tracks and stared in surprise and no small amount of confusion. It was strange enough to find a woman alone in the woods of Imladris – but to find an elleth, unconscious by all appearances, and unfamiliar to him besides, both startled and concerned him.
He dropped to his knees beside her, his brow furrowing slightly. He could see no injury that would cause her current state – no sign of trauma, or evidence of attack.
Releasing his grip on his sword, he knelt beside her prone form and reached out to touch her. That was when her eyes flew open, stared at him a moment without any sign of comprehension, and her mouth opened to scream.
Laurel's consciousness returned slowly, and with it, was the strong sense of being watched. Her eyes fluttered open and focused gradually on a face that was mere inches from hers.
She drew a breath to scream, scrambling back from him in an ungainly flail of arms and legs, but no sound came from her throat. She managed to rise to her feet, her heart hammering in her chest as she struggled to make her mind work. He made no move towards her, and despite the sword he wore on his hip, his manner was not overtly threatening, merely watchful.
His face was as beautiful as an angel's, but there was something wild about his features – his blue eyes were a bit too large, his brows a little too arched, and his ears a little too pointed. She'd never heard of angels having pointed ears. If he was a Seraph, then he had to be one of the four guardians – which would explain the presence of the sword.
Laurel managed to find her voice, though it was faint. "Which one are you?"
His eyes clouded momentarily in confusion, before he rose to his feet. "I beg your pardon, lady," he said, uncertain what she meant by her question. "Are you well?" Perhaps she had suffered a head injury that was not readily apparent.
It seemed a silly question to ask, by Laurel's reasoning. She was in heaven. Of course she was well, why wouldn't she be? Unless, of course, this wasn't heaven, and the beautiful creature in front of her wasn't one of the four archangels.
The memory of darkness, and the oft spoke of light which she followed, until she came to a place she couldn't begin to describe. No explanations at the end. No answers. No one at all. In the end, feeling weary, drained, and confused. The light fading until all was darkness once more.
"I'm fine," she answered finally. "This is going to sound odd…but where am I?"
The creature before her studied her carefully, as if wondering if she were dissembling, before answering. "You are on the boundaries of Imladris, lady."
Glorfindel had questions, so many questions that needed answering, but from the look of utter confusion on her face, he thought perhaps some of them should wait.
Introductions were in order, he thought, and bowed politely. "I am Lord Glorfindel of Imladris, Seneschal to Lord Elrond Peredhil."
Laurel barely heard his introduction, for in the moment between him telling her where she was and who he was, she had noticed something that had left her feeling more than odd.
Her jeans and sweater were gone. Instead, she was wearing a dress, bottle green, made of some type of velvet that was softer than any velvet she'd ever felt before. Her tennis shoes had been replaced by soft, leather boots that laced up past her ankles. She stared at her feet for the longest moment, until Glorfindel's voice brought her out of her daze.
She looked at him and swallowed. "I'm sorry, sir. What did you ask?"
Glorfindel noticed her face becoming a rather alarming shade of pale. "I asked your name, lady, and where you were from." He was becoming a bit concerned by her behavior, and wondered again if she had suffered a head injury, despite her answer that she was well.
"My name is Laurel Thompson," she answered. "I'm from Whidbey Island."
His eyebrows rose slightly at this information, for not only was Laurel not an elvish name, he had never heard of an island named Whidbey. Therefore, she must be lying, though why, he could not quite fathom. If she were some type of spy, surely she would be better at spinning a believable tale.
Laurel swayed on her feet. "Sir, I'm going to be blunt, because I'm confused, and I don't know what the hell is going on."
Glorfindel nodded for her to continue, his hand easing gradually toward the hilt of his sword.
She shook her head. "I was driving to work, and my car was hit by a moving van. I remember that! Did I die? Is this heaven?" She shook her head again, feeling her legs wobble slightly. "If this is heaven, the Christians have got it all wrong." Her eyes widened slightly and she stared at him. "Or maybe, I'm in a coma!" She warmed to the thought – it certainly made more sense than anything else. "This is a dream!"
He struggled not to let his utter confusion at her unfamiliar words show. This elleth spoke strangely for certain. However, strange or not, he could not leave her here. She was obviously confused, and more of a danger to herself in the wild than to anyone else. She had no weapons or pack that he could see, no implements that would allow her to survive on her own. In fact, the more he studied her, he came to the conclusion that she spent very little time living out of doors. Her dress looked finely made – like a lady's dress, and though her speech was a little rougher than he expected a well born lady's to be, she had a soft look about her that spoke of an easy life.
"I believe," he replied, thinking quickly, "that you had best come with me to see Lord Elrond. He is a healer. He may be able to help you."
Laurel nodded. If this was a dream, it didn't matter where she went. Sooner or later, hopefully, she'd wake.
For a dream, this all felt quite convincingly real.
Glorfindel's horse carried them both easily, with Laurel sitting in front of Glorfindel, his arm around her waist to hold her securely and keep her from falling. When she'd explained that she'd never been on a horse before, his eyes had widened slightly in surprise, but his reply was a mildly voiced, "I shall endeavor to keep you from falling, then."
He was strong, lifting her easily onto his horse's back, and the horse, to his credit, held perfectly still during the process, and didn't seem to object when she clutched a death hold on his mane.
The warmth of the horse's hide beneath her felt real. The strands of silky mane between her fingers felt real. The press of Glorfindel's lean body behind her definitely felt real – perhaps more real than she would have liked; quite frankly it had been ages since she'd been close to another man. Having a man riding right behind her, with his thighs pressing against her backside, rocking with the motion of the horse's gait, was a bit disconcerting, as well as pleasantly distracting.
Of course, it didn't help that, human or not, Glorfindel was possibly the most beautiful male anything she'd ever seen.
Which brought up another rather important question. She knew Glorfindel couldn't be human – humans didn't have pointed ears, for starters, but even if his ears had been rounded, something about him – his very presence, screamed non-human.
"What are you?" she asked finally, curiosity finally getting the better of her.
"Pardon, lady?" Glorfindel's voice tickled her ear pleasantly. "What do you mean?" Her question was odd, he thought. "I am Lord Elrond's Seneschal. I keep watch over his borders. I am his guardian."
Laurel shook her head, turning her head to look at him. "No, I mean what are you? Not what you do for a living."
He was taken aback, honestly bewildered as to why she would be asking this. He hoped Lord Elrond would be able to discover what was wrong with her. "I am an elf, lady, the same as you."
Her dark eyes widened a moment and she actually snorted, a rather indelicate, unladylike sound. "An elf? You don't happen to make shoes or toys when you're not out riding in the woods, do you?" Her smile faded and she frowned. "What do you mean, same as me? I'm not an elf."
Glorfindel regarded her patiently, inwardly shaking his head. The poor elleth. It was becoming readily apparent that something terrible must have happened for her wits to be so scattered.
He drew Asfaloth to a halt and took one of her hands in his, bringing it to her own, delicately pointed ear. Her look of shock would have been almost comical, if the situation had been less serious.
Laurel reached up with both hands, feeling her ears with disbelief. They were hers, and not some rubber appliance, that was fairly obvious the moment she pinched the tip of one of them and gasped at the resulting stinging pain. Glorfindel winced in sympathy.
Not quite ready to accept what her fingers were telling her, she reached up and touched one of Glorfindel's ears gently with the tip of her finger to see if they felt any different than hers. She was not prepared for the intensity of his reaction.
The moment her fingertip brushed the tip of his ear, he grabbed her wrist, pulling it away with a sharp gasp.
"Do not, lady," he managed, his voice sounding strangely tight. "Please. You should not ever touch another elf's ears unless…" he trailed off, and she was surprised to see him look rather embarrassed. He released his grip on her wrist abruptly.
"Unless what?" she pressed, honestly curious.
Glorfindel shook his head, his control in place once more. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "It is a very personal thing to touch another elf's ears," he said meaningfully. "You should not do it without being invited first."
"Oh." Laurel looked blankly at him for a moment, then comprehension dawned on her fair features. "Oh!" she exclaimed, blushing a rather becoming shade of pink.
She was mortified and was grateful when Glorfindel urged his horse forward again. Thankfully, nothing more was said on that subject. However, Glorfindel's revelation about what he was and what she was prompted her to ask, "How do you know I'm an elf? It's not just the ears, is it?"
To her surprise, he chuckled, and she got goose bumps from the way his warm breath ghosted over the back of her neck.
"No, lady. It is not simply the ears. I can sense your fëa."
"My what?" She turned towards him again. "What is that?'
Glorfindel sighed. She was as full of questions as an elfling and looked to be every bit as persistent. "I think Lord Elrond can answer that better than I," he hedged, not wishing try to explain the nature of elven fëa to someone who had apparently forgotten everything, including her own race.
"Oh, wait," she said softly, wonderment coloring her voice. "I think I know." It was that thing, that feeling, or sense she got about him that told her he wasn't human even before she saw the pointed ears. "Is it like your spirit?"
"Close enough," Glorfindel told her, and squeezed Asfaloth into a canter, hoping to avoid more questions.
Laurel gasped, clinging tighter to the horse's mane, grateful that Glorfindel seemed to have a good grip on her. The ground beneath them seemed to blur and she was forced to keep her gaze focused ahead to keep from getting dizzy.
Asfaloth kept his steady, ground eating pace until they reached the gates of Imladris, where Glorfindel finally brought him to a walk once more.
Laurel forgot the myriad of questions she'd thought of during the ride in her awe of the place before her. She wasn't sure what she'd really been expecting Imladris to look like, but the place itself defied and exceeded all of her expectations.
Imladris was, in a word, beautiful.
Graceful arches, great, open buildings, trees of every size, shape and color; these were but the initial impressions she gathered as they passed through the gates. On closer inspection she saw leaf-strewn roads, delicate and lovely statues and carvings along the way, fountains, flowers and growing things everywhere. The buildings themselves were majestic creations of an architecture she'd never seen before. They seemed extensions of the trees growing around them, as if they'd grown from the ground themselves, instead of being built. They were open and airy, all curves and arches of white stone and wood, glittering glass panes that rippled like a stream of water in the sunlight.
And the people who lived there simply made her stare.
Beings, every bit as graceful and lovely as their surroundings, seeming to be a part of the natural world around them. Flashes of pale, golden hair, silver hair, or dark sable, gleaming fabric, shimmering pale skin, unearthly in their beauty.
They were unearthly, Laurel realized, feeling rather foolish. They weren't human.
Which brought home the realization that neither was she, and she wondered, with no small amount of vanity, if she looked like these creatures, straight out of some fairy tale. Unless there was a complete dearth of reflective surfaces in Imladris, she supposed she'd find out sooner or later.
Glorfindel brought his horse to a halt and slid from Asfaloth's back, reaching up to lift Laurel to the ground. His hands caught her waist and lifted her, and her hands clutched his shoulders as he swung her down. He set her gently on the ground and released her, only to catch her again as she nearly fell.
"Sorry," she muttered, clutching at his tunic as she got her legs under her again. "My legs feel like rubber."
He cocked an eyebrow at her, shaking his head again at her strange words. He understood her meaning, however. "You should be all right in a moment, though you may be a bit stiff tomorrow." She smiled up at him hesitantly, and he was suddenly aware that his hands were still resting on her narrow waist and that barely a hands breadth was between them.
"Picking up strays, Glorfindel?" an amused voice asked, bringing him back to his surroundings abruptly. He released his grip on Laurel's waist and transferred his hold to her arm, lending her some support as he turned to greet the speaker.
"Good afternoon, Erestor," he said with a grin. "I doubt the lady considers herself a stray."
The dark haired elf raised an eyebrow and looked curiously at his companion. "Indeed," he replied mildly.
"Laurel Thompson, this is Lord Erestor, Chief Counselor and Advisor to Lord Elrond, and my good friend," Glorfindel introduced her.
Laurel smiled at Erestor, so different in looks from Glorfindel, but every bit as beautiful. His eyes were large and such a dark brown they appeared almost black, and his hair was a rich, glossy black. He nodded a greeting to her, obviously curious, but far too polite to pepper her with questions.
"I am taking her to see Lord Elrond," Glorfindel explained quietly. "I think perhaps she has sustained an injury."
Erestor saw the elleth give Glorfindel a look of surprise. "I'm not hurt," she protested. "Just seriously confused."
Glorfindel patted her arm gently and gave her a nod. "All right, lady," he agreed, not wishing to upset her. "Lord Elrond perhaps can clear up your confusion then."
She sniffed, only partially mollified by his obvious capitulation. "All right."
Erestor hid his smile. "I look forward to talking with you later, Glorfindel," he said. He inclined his head politely at Laurel. "It was a pleasure to meet you."
Laurel followed Glorfindel through the halls of the Last Homely House. It seemed a rather odd name for a building as beautiful as it was, but perhaps homely wasn't meant in the way it usually was meant. Perhaps it meant home-like, instead of unpleasant and ugly.
He left her waiting in a large yet comfortable room filled with overstuffed chairs and long, lovely couches, literally surrounded by grand fireplaces. There were tapestries and paintings on the walls, depicting scenes that varied greatly. She liked the portraits better than the battle scenes, and spent several moments going from one to the next, studying faces, wondering who the elves pictured in them were.
One portrait in particular caught her eye. It was a painting of a lovely elf lady with beautiful blonde hair and deep, almost ocean blue eyes. It was the expression that the artist had captured, though, that caught Laurel's attention the most. The lady was smiling, positively glowing with happiness. She had the look of someone deeply in love.
"That is the Lady Celebrían," a low, masculine voice said at her ear, startling her greatly.
Laurel turned, surprised that it wasn't Glorfindel who had crept up on her. The tall, dark haired elf was still looking at the portrait, a small, wistful smile playing about his lips.
"She looks happy," she ventured finally, uncertain what to say.
The elf turned and looked at her, favoring her with a slightly warmer smile. "She was. That was the day we announced our intention to bond." He seemed to remember himself then, and inclined his head in a regal fashion. "I am Lord Elrond, and you must be the lady Glorfindel spoke with me about."
"Laurel Thompson," she replied, uncertain if she should offer her hand or curtsey. She settled on doing neither. Instead, she simply said, "I'm very pleased to meet you."
Elrond studied her for a moment, curiosity alight in his gray eyes. "Glorfindel is worried that you may have suffered some type of head injury. He was quite concerned about your confusion. If you will permit me, I would like to examine you."
"I haven't suffered any injury that I know of," Laurel replied, shaking her head. "But sure. Hopefully you can explain a few things while I'm here."
He nodded and gestured gracefully for her to follow him.
Eros smiled to himself, feeling quite satisfied that things seemed to be progressing the way he had intended. All the pieces, though, were not quite in place. There was one left that had yet to be put into play.
However, Eros had no intention of rushing the game, and was he was honestly curious to see exactly how it would unfold without his deliberate direction. It was rare when a mortal could surprise him, but it did happen on occasion. He wondered then if, left to her own devices, Laurel would stumble across her true love all on her own.
He decided to wait and see.
After all, he had all the time in the universe, and now, thanks to him, so did she.