From the Ashes by Jessie Syring
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. I hope I insult no one by playing with his characters.
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Chapter TwoHe could hear the singing of birds and the rustle of leaves as a light wind blew by.
The Elf opened his eyes and stared upward at huge trees towering over him. He sat up carefully and looked around, a slight frown marring his handsome features. He could hear the sound of rushing water in the distance but could not see the source. And he heard voices, faint and far away.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a moment and staggered to his feet. His bare feet left no track as he stumbled toward the voices. He could make out multiple voices now, both male and female, and the sound of splashing water. He stepped into a clearing that held a large pool. Several dark-haired Elves were in and around it, laughing and splashing water on each other. One, a male, saw him and rose, calling out sharply and gesturing at his nudity.
The words seemed so far away.
He collapsed.
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"Lord Elrond!"
The lord of Imladris looked up, frowning slightly, as a young female burst into his study. Her bare feet were dirty and water dripped from her long black hair to puddle on the floor.
"Amarië," he chastised, "it is hardly necessary---"
"Please, Lord Elrond, you must come." Her words came in a rush. "We found someone. He is injured---"
Elrond needed to hear nothing else. Closing his ledger, he hurried from the study and out of his large home. He hurried down the well-worn path leading to the nearby springs. He hadn't gone far when he met the group coming from the springs. Erestor led the way. The younger, stern-faced Elf carried a limp figure in his arms, wrapped in a blanket. Elrond hurried to them.
"What happened, Erestor? Did he fall?"
"I cannot say, Lord Elrond. I have never seen him before but he came walking up to the pool and collapsed. He is breathing but has not stirred."
Elrond pulled the blanket aside and gasped in surprise. The Elf's long hair was blond with a bit of red in it so as to appear golden. He looked young, perhaps Erestor's age, and his fair features were unmarked. His breathing was steady.
Elrond looked at the other Elves. "Do any of you know him?" he asked. No one answered. "Let us get him to the hall, Erestor. The rest of you return to your homes."
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Elrond stood beside the bed, staring down at the occupant. He knew as little now as he had when the strange Elf had first been found nearly a week ago. Physically, he had no injuries that Elrond could find but he had not stirred and his eyes were shut. He gave no indication of hearing anything around him and had not responded to any stimulus Elrond had tried.
Sighing, the healer turned to leave. He paused and looked back at his patient again and straightened in surprise. Blue eyes were looking around the room. The Elf blinked several times, then turned his head to look at Elrond.
"Mae govannen," Elrond said in greeting. "Nalye a Imladris. Im Elrond hin." 1
The strange Elf stared at him without reaction. Elrond frowned---the Elf's eyes seemed somehow older than all the ages of the world but gave no indication he understood any of Elrond's words.
"Can you hear and understand me?" Elrond asked.
The Elf turned away.
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The open door to one of the halls drew Erestor's attention as he made his final round of the Last Homely House for the night. He entered Elrond's Hall and stood atop the wide stairs and looked around.
Ah, he should have realized.
He glided down the stairs and crossed the large room. Over the last few days, the golden-haired Elf had taken to wandering and could usually be found here, studying the numerous murals and artifacts, wearing little more than the loose robe they had provided him. The room was mostly dark, its candles snuffed to decrease the risk of fire, but the stranger had a natural glow brighter than any Erestor had known and the glow guided his steps. The stranger stood before a painting of a city in flames, besieged by dragons and other fell beasts.
"The fall of Gondolin," Erestor said, joining the stranger. "The darkest days the Elves have ever known."
The Elf turned, then, and looked at him. "It is wrong," he said.
Erestor raised one eyebrow. The Elf spoke Sindarin but the accent was peculiar. Plus, his words were hardly diplomatic. "That mural was done shortly after our arrival here," he said sternly. "It was done with the memories of Elves who have since passed to the Undying Lands."
The strange Elf looked at him again. "Very few survived the attacks. But the mountains are wrong." He touched the mural, lightly tracing the mountains beyond the burning city. "The smoke was so heavy, the mountains were invisible. And the order of the mountains is wrong anyway. At this angle, Cristhorn should be here, above Cirith Thornath."
Erestor frowned. "You speak as if you were there."
The strange eyes turned on him. "I was there. And I died here, defending the refugees." He pointed at the map, at the spot where he had said Cristhorn should be. "In 510 of what is now called the First Age."
Erestor backed up a step, his eyes wide. "That is not possible."
The Elf raised his head. "I do not understand how or why, but I was sent back."
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Elrond sat in his high-backed chair, fingers steepled before him, and listened to his most-trusted councilors argue. He had told these privileged few what the stranger had said and already they were arguing the meaning of having Glorfindel returned from the Halls of Mandos.
Finally he said, "Enough!" Silence followed. Elrond rose. "We have always believed that no one returns to Arda---they are sent to the Undying Lands. But we cannot deny this Elf is here and has memories we cannot account for."
"He is mad," said Celebdin.
"Perhaps. But we, here, cannot decide that. I am dispatching riders to Lothlorien and the Grey Havens. Perhaps the wisest among us may have the answers. In the meanwhile, Erestor, I am putting him in your care. If he is going to wander our halls, he needs to watch his tongue. Many would be troubled by his words. For the nonce, he is harming no one."
As the council split up, Elrond strode toward the Halls of Healing with Erestor in close step behind. They made their way to the room given to the strange Elf. He was seated on the bed, staring with wide eyes at the glowing coals in the fireplace.
"Glorfindel?" called Erestor. The Elf started and looked up. "This is Elrond, lord of Imladris."
Glorfindel hastily rose. "Lord Elrond, I am at your service. You favor your great-grandfather."
Elrond frowned slightly. Erestor hastily cleared his throat. "We have much to discuss and learn about each other. Lord Elrond has asked me to see to your needs."
"And keep a careful watch on me."
"Is it necessary?" Elrond asked.
"I am a stranger here and come with a most unusual tale. I would not think that would mark me as trustworthy."
"I do not deny there is wisdom in that. But I will not keep you locked away here when there is sunshine and fresh air to enjoy."
Elrond excused himself and left, casting a thoughtful glance at Erestor on his way out. Erestor looked around and noticed the fire was nearly out. "Let me fix that," he said. "There is a chill to the air."
He knelt and added a log to the flames. The wood popped and sparks shot into the air. Glorfindel cried out and before fled the room Erestor could react. Erestor ran into the hall, looking around frantically. But the golden-haired Elf was already out of sight. The dark-haired councilor began searching rooms.
He found Glorfindel in Elrond's Hall, crouched in a dark corner. He was curled into a tight ball and rocking back and forth, staring blankly ahead. Tears ran down his face. Erestor went to him, calling his name, but got no reaction. He reached out and touched Glorfindel's shoulder.
"Are you all right? What's wrong?"
Glorfindel didn't respond. He seemed unaware of his surroundings. Alarmed, Erestor ran back into the corridor and searched until he found a servant. He sent her for Lord Elrond, and hurried to the other Elf's side again. He pulled off his outer tunic and wrapped it around Glorfindel's shoulders. Then he sat, awkwardly unsure what to do, until Rivendell's lord arrived.
Elrond knelt beside Erestor and looked over Glorfindel. "What happened?" he asked.
"I do not know. Some kind of fit?" Erestor shrugged.
Elrond waved a hand in front of the staring eyes. He reached to feel Glorfindel's pulse and found his muscles rigid, the blood racing through his veins. The Elf was trembling violently.
"Bring my bag," Elrond said quietly, "and some strong wine."
As Erestor hurried out of the room, he could hear Elrond's voice quietly chanting. He quickly found wine and a goblet and the bag in which Elrond kept a ready supply of medicines. He came back to the room and paused. Glorfindel had come out of his shock and now had his face buried in his arms as sobs shook his body. Elrond massaged his back soothingly. He caught Erestor's eye and signaled him forward. The healer took a white powder from his bag and put a pinch of it in the goblet before pouring wine into it. Then he made the distraught Elf drink the contents of the cup.
The sobs slowly subsided. Glorfindel took a deep breath and looked up. "I-I'm sorry."
"What happened?" Erestor asked, his own voice anguished. "If I did something---"
"No. You didn't do anything. It was the fire. I---" Glorfindel swallowed hard. "Please. I'd just like to go back to my room."
He stood up shakily and pushed past both Elf lords. Elrond's eyebrow quirked up and he looked at Erestor. Erestor looked nearly distraught as the fair-haired Elf had. "I do not know what happened! I was stoking the fire and...and he ran away."
Elrond nodded slowly in sympathetic understanding. "It is to be expected, my friend. His last memory involved the fire of the Balrog and dying."
"I am sorry," Erestor said.
"He will understand. Just give him some time for now. Would you see if you can find some decent clothing for him?"
"Of course."
Erestor bustled out. Elrond sighed and collected his bag before rising, pausing to stare at the mural on the wall. He doubted Glorfindel had even noticed he had taken refuge beneath the image of Gondolin burning.
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1 Welcome. You are in Imladris. I am Lord Elrond.