-Note- Um...January is shaping up to be a hectic month for me, so I don't know when updates will come. Not many chapters left, won't say how many. :P
And because so many of you asked if it was Maglor in the subway: I left it ambiguous because it's of no real importance other than to bring another "facet" of Elven life into view, and mystery is so much more fun! Does this call for an evil cackle? I hope not…
-Disclaimer- Please see chapter 1.
A Visit
Seasons passed. People grew older, Alyaran grew wider, and Glorfindel stayed the same.
He found himself, one Thursday during his lunch break, riding the elevator to the third floor of an unfamiliar building, walking through sterile, off-white halls that were, for the moment, silent. If Glorfindel had never been in a modern hospital before, he did not show it. He knocked on the door of room 344. It opened.
"Hi," said Ruth. There were others in the room- a man, and two older women. "You got my message?"
Glorfindel nodded.
"Come in," she said. "This is my brother, Ben. These are my aunts, Hanna and Beth. My father's in the cafeteria. This is Gordon. He's a friend."
"Hello," he said awkwardly, realizing he should not have come. "I'm so sorry…"
"Do you want a moment with her?" asked Ruth gently. Her eyes were red.
"Yes, please," he said. "Is that okay?"
"Of course. We'll be back in half an hour."
"Alright, see you. Get some lunch, Ruth."
Ruth nodded, took her red coat from the hook beside the door, and left, her family following her.
He was alone in the small room. Well, not quite.
"Hello, Mrs. Rosenthal," he said.
Mrs. Rosenthal didn't answer, of course. She answered to no one, now. Glorfindel had not been told why; he had come home briefly on his lunch break to walk Alyaran and seen his message light blinking. Ruth had told him to come, and he had.
The frail body under the sheets did not resemble the lively, plump Mrs. Rosenthal he had known. Yes, she had been ailing for a few months, but he hadn't noticed anything drastic. He cursed himself for not paying more attention.
He remembered the slow trickle of gifts and trinkets she had given him over the last few months. A linen tablecloth, a few plates, candlesticks, some pet toys too small for Alyaran. And he wondered if perhaps she had known, if Ruth had known, and if that was why Ruth had come.
He sat in the chair beside the bed and took Mrs. Rosenthal's bony, arthritic hand in both of his own. She was wearing one of those horrid hospital gowns, a tube came from the inside of her elbow. A line of faded black ink stood out on her forearm.
"Mrs. Rosenthal," he said slowly, "there's something I want to tell you." And it was true; he wanted to tell her. He didn't have to or need to, and she had never made him, even though Glorfindel knew she wondered about him from time to time.
And so he told her everything.
(l)
Ruth did not return for an hour. When she opened the door, Glorfindel had already prepared himself to meet her.
"Thank you," he said, embracing her quickly.
"No problem," she said.
"Is there anything you need?"
She shook her head, bit her lip. Glorfindel hugged her a second time, longer than the first.
"It's like this world, only better. Clearer, like this one was meant to be," he whispered into her ear.
She exhaled shakily into his shoulder, he swept dark hair from her face.
"I know it for truth," he said.
(l)
When he returned from work that evening, he found himself disregarding Ruth's insistence that she didn't need anything. He mustered his courage, pulled out a box of noodles, and began to cook.
He was stunned (and maybe a little proud) to find that the spaghetti was actually good. Edible. Delicious, dare he say it?
He dumped the meal into a Tupperware container, scribbled "can be reheated" on a sticky note he pressed onto the lid, put the whole thing in a brown paper bag. As a second thought, he put a bag of salad into the bag, as well.
He took the elevator down to the next floor, knocked on Mrs. Rosenthal's door. Ruth answered, gave him a watery smile as he invited himself in. He recognized her brother, who was sitting on the couch.
"I thought you might want this…" he said. "Spaghetti's the only thing I can cook, but I'd be happy to keep doing this."
Ruth's brother took the bag from him and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Please," she said, gesturing to the couch. "You can stay. Have you eaten yet?"
"I've eaten," he lied. "Is there anything…?"
"No," Ruth said quickly. "We're fine. I can cook, so can Ben and Dad…"
"Alright," said Glorfindel. "Call me if you need anything, or if anything changes."
"I will," she said. She took a breath. "My grandmother liked you very much. I think she was rather protective of you."
Glorfindel smiled. "She's a good friend." He checked his watch, feigned surprise. "It's late," he said, "and I'll leave you two to some peace and quiet."
"Oh," said Ruth, and for a second Glorfindel thought she would ask him to stay. "Alright. And you've got work in the morning. I'll see you around, okay? And I'll call."
Glorfindel nodded, went to the door. They stared at each other for a moment of awkward silence before Glorfindel, not really minding how ridiculous it seemed in this Age, bobbed his head in a half-bow. Then, he left.
(l)
He heated himself up another microwave dinner, some kind of chicken-with-noodles dish. Alyaran begging at his heels, he ate at the head of his glossy formal table, listening to the television from the other room. When he had finished, he discarded the disposable dinner dish, fed Alyaran. He cleaned up the spaghetti pots, cut his finger on an empty can of tomato sauce. He bit back an oath as blood welled up and he felt the stinging pain, and reached for a box of tissues.
The cut scabbed over quickly- he was an Elf, after all.
He looked at his hands, strong and young-looking. Years in the safety of the city had made him forget what he was capable of, had made him forget the feel of the sword and the sound of battle. He was powerful, even among the most powerful of his own people. He had slain a Balrog, he had faced the Úlairi more than once, he had witnessed the first defeat of Sauron.º And yet, he could not hold back time, for all his desire to do so. Such was the weight of his people.
(l)
Happy New Year, everyone!
º Úlairi: Ringwraiths. The most we know about Glorfindel's post-Balrog pre-Fellowship days is that he made the prophecy concerning the Witch-King during the days of Angmar. He may or may not have been a member of the Last Alliance, but I assume here that he was.
Thanks for reading! Review responses:
Avalon Estel: Happy almost-birthday! I Googled Adagio for Strings and found out it was in Platoon and The Elephant Man (both are movies). You want to NaNo next year? Hooray! It's a lot of fun.
Starlit jewel: Yes, he does. I can't just leave him here, stuck with a bunch of humans! :P Or maybe I can…
Kazbels: Thanks! As for his ears, it's unlikely that any stranger on the subwaywill come up to him out of the blue and ask about them- it's not polite, and people don't often talk to strangers. Should they actually ask, he can dismiss them or blame it on any number of things- wild college days, "I was in a band", or even, "they're natural". Adagio for Strings is one of my favorites, up there with the Bach Cello Suites and (surprise, surprise!) Canon in D.
Lady Lunas: You have Elrohir as your muse? Then how did I get tea as mine? can i exchange tea for an Elf? Nah, too much of a tea lover. Hmm...
Noldo: Ah! If only I could use my new-found psychic powers to switch weather with you! Don't worry about the concert- my grandparents took me a lot when I was younger (thus my inability to sit through one today!). I'm glad Glorfindel's concert seemed real! You cut your hand on a bottle? Ouch! I hope it feels better!
Crystal113: You said: "Why do I get the feeling he will be telling them soon?" I got this review and started laughing, because I had already known that he would. I don't listen to much classical either, but my sister (also plays violin) got me hooked on Adagio.
Unsung Heroine: Thanks! I'm rather of the opinion that it was Daeron or someone else entirely, but I wanted to let everyone to decide for themselves. When I read something like that, it always gets me thinking. Like the end of The Giver did…I'm still convinced the boy (Jonas, I think?) survived, but most of my teachers have disagreed. And if you haven't read The Giver, you've probably missed the analogy…sorry!
Perelleth: I'm glad you've heard that Adagio! I was hoping a few readers had. I agree- it would be wonderful to meet an Elf! :) "like snow falling without wind"- thank you for that lovely compliment!
Earendil Eldar: Thanks! I'll look for that! Thank you for reviewing- it's very reassuring to hear that it's realistic.
Joou Himeko Dah: Thanks! I'll get the next chapter posted as soon as I can!
Shadowlessphantom: Absolutely! I really missed him in the movies- he should have been there! I have decided, however, that the Elf standing next to Elladan at the end of Return of the King (you know, with Arwen coming out from behind the standard) is Glorfindel. He deserves a part!