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 Four

Glorfindel walked through the woods, enjoying the night sounds all around him. Lord Elrond had finally consented to let him wander without escort after Erestor had pointed out that all Elves needed their freedom to explore and enjoy life. Unfortunately, the new freedom meant Erestor had returned to some of his own duties as well. Glorfindel found himself missing Erestor when he was absent. The dark-haired councilor was proving to be a good friend during the time it was taking him to adjust.

Glorfindel's path led him to the bridge over the Bruinen not far from his new home. The distant sound of the falls muffled the sounds of the night birds and crickets. Behind him, he heard a burst of laughter from somewhere in the Last Homely House and smiled, finding a feeling of security in that sound. He sat on the bridge rail and stared upward at the starry sky.

"I thought I would find you here," called a familiar voice. "You spend a lot of time gazing at the stars."

"Aye," Glorfindel agreed, not looking at Erestor. "I have always enjoyed their presence. Even as we crossed the Grinding Ice, I would often look at them and wonder how they came to be. Do they burn with fire? Is that why they sparkle and shine? Or are they gems, like the Silmarils? Placed there to draw the eye and cause wonder."

Erestor smiled and sat beside him. "Surely you of all Elves have heard the story of the lighting of the stars."

"From the Valar themselves. But that does not stop me from dreaming."

"No, indeed, it does not."

They sat in companionable silence for some time. Glorfindel said, "Turgon was told at Unnumbered Tears that from his line would come a new star. None knew what it meant then." A ghost of a smile crossed his features. "But Eärendil was an unruly child. I never thought he would reach his majority."

"It took unbelievable courage to do what he did, crossing the oceans to beg aid of the Valar." Erestor looked away suddenly and Glorfindel thought he saw a slight flush on his face. "He was my hero when I was an Elfling. I wanted to join him in his eternal watch among the stars, guided by the light of his Silmaril. I even built a small boat to practice sailing on a pond near my home."

Glorfindel looked at him curiously. "Were you successful?"

"No. It sank ten feet from shore." Erestor chuckled at the memory. "It was very disheartening."

Glorfindel nodded, an expression of understanding on his face. "I wanted to be an eagle and fly high above the world. Higher than the throne of Manwë. I made wings of golden cloth stretched over frames of carefully bent willow."

"How long was your flight, Master Eagle?"

"Fifteen feet. Straight down." He smiled in embarrassment. "I cried my heart out because my beautiful wings were now just splinters of wood and fragments of cloth. And it did not help that I broke my arm."

"You will tell me if you plan another such flight?"

"I have flown twice and have no desire to repeat the success of either journey." Erestor looked at him, confusion clearly written on his face. Glorfindel said, "I did not fair so well falling off a mountain, either."

"I am sorry. I did not mean to remind you of---"

"My death?" Glorfindel shrugged. "I have come to accept it. This new world is still strange and new to me, Master Mariner, and I have much to learn. But I will still recall the times before. There was joy even then. I remember the first rising of the Sun. The Moon rose first, just as we reached land." He crossed his long legs and folded his hands on his lap. "I did not know what to make of it---its light was brighter than that of the stars yet we feared it would betray us to Morgoth---we thought he walked these lands unchallenged. Seven times it crossed the sky before the Sun rose. And we hid in fear; the Valar had abandoned us so they could not have sent this light. But we grew to love it as we loved the light of the Trees."

"And now?"

"I walk in sunshine and feel its warmth. But I love the stars still."

Erestor looked at his hands. "My father often spoke of the first Sunrise. But he rarely spoke of the crossing of the Helcaraxë."

"There is nothing to be told," Glorfindel said curtly.

The Noldo Elf stiffened and looked away, rising to leave. Glorfindel immediately regretted his hasty words and the hurt he had obviously caused Erestor. He touched his arm.

"Erestor, I am sorry. I did not mean to be so harsh. It is just…that whole time was so difficult. And much of it is a blur. I do not even know how long the journey to Arda took because there was no way to measure the passage of time."

Glorfindel fell silent again, redirecting his gaze to the water flowing beneath the bridge. Erestor sat down once more, saying nothing. The golden-haired Elf said nothing again for a very long time.

"Cold. That is what I remember most," he said at last. "The wind across the ice sapped heat and strength from the strongest. We had left the youngest children in Valinor with those who stayed behind. It was for the best---they would not have survived the cold. Too many of those who made the journey did not. Do you know why we pressed on? Why we did not return?"

Erestor shook his head. "I thought that perhaps it had to do with the Oath."

"Fëanor's accursed Oath? Very few held to it---the Silmarils did not belong to the rest of us. Only the Fëanorans were truly bound to it and they took the ships." Glorfindel laughed bitterly. "Thus we learned the truth of the Doom of Mandos. What were his words? Treason of kin unto kin? Fëanor left his brothers and most of his own people to die in the frozen wastes. Oath breakers, he called us. We crossed the ice out of stubbornness and seeking revenge."

He fell silent again, looking back to the stars. Tears glistened in his blue eyes as he said, "So many were lost. Elenwë, wife of Turgon, fell into a crevice hidden by a thin layer of snow. Ecthelion's father was slain by a great white bear. Few in my house died after Alqualondë, though we were sorely pressed for food and shelter." His breath escaped in a sad sigh and he looked at Erestor. "My father died at Alqualondë."

Erestor placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am truly sorry."

Glorfindel nodded, unable to speak. Suddenly he raised his head and looked toward the Last Homely House. Erestor glanced that way as well as he heard singing. Erestor smiled and rose.

"I have depressed you with dark thoughts. Let us return to the hall and the sunshine we might find there."

Glorfindel looked at him and smiled slightly, encouraged by Erestor's own expression. The two walked toward the building.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

Glorfindel stood on the great porch of the Last Homely House and sighed in contentment. He hadn't thought much about his previously life and he suspected Erestor was keeping him busy so he wouldn't. He liked this place of refuge and, peering through the scattered clouds at the bright star twinkling overhead, thought Eärendil would be proud of what his son Elrond had built here. The star brought a smile to his face and he wondered if Fëanor's spirit restlessly stalked the cold halls of Mandos, driven by the knowledge one of his precious Silmarils was so near and yet so far out of reach.

Soft music reached his ears and he cocked his head, listening. Someone within the Hall of Fire was singing. He had learned this was common in Imladris, especially on dreary days like these last few. He had ventured into the audience with Erestor and listened to songs ages old but new to him. From where he stood now, he could not make out the words of the song so he went inside and entered the Hall of Fire.

Several female Elves were gathered at one of the tables, chatting merrily as they did needlework and kept alert eyes on young children. Others spun thread or rolled yarn. Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond, were absorbed in a game involving intricately carved pieces being moved on a board of colored squares, egged on by several watchers. A young male with silvery hair had seated himself on a high stool and was strumming a mandolin while singing softly about the lovers Beren and Luthien. When he finished his song, he rose and went to Glorfindel.

"Glorfindel? Someone pointed you out to me last night."

"I was enjoying your music, minstrel," Glorfindel said with a slight bow, struggling to remember the Elf's name. He had met so many people in his short time here! "You have a fine voice."

"You have not been here long. I was wondering if you have any songs from some of the lands through which you have traveled that you might wish to share."

Glorfindel paused, not sure how to answer that. The lands through which he had traveled? This Elf could not begin to understand what he had been through before coming here. But his own love of music won through.

"I know a few songs. But they are very old."

The minstrel sat down, looking at him with intense interest. "Old songs teach us lessons," he pointed out.

Glorfindel nodded. After a few moments of thought, he began to sing:

I've seen the moon

And the first sunrise.

I'll leave it to the memories

And kiss the wind goodbye.

The house of spirits call.

I've tasted poison

When I drank the wine of fate

But fear was in my heart

I realized to late.

High's the fee.

Soon my spirit will return.

Welcome, dawn,

Your light will take me home.

I say farewell. 1

Glorfindel fell silent, the words fading as tears filled his eyes. He realized the Hall had fallen silent and everyone was staring at him. He spun around and fled. Just outside the door, he nearly ran down Erestor.

"Who was singing?" asked Erestor. "It was beautiful!"

Glorfindel merely pushed past him.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

Glorfindel sat on the edge of his bed, staring out the window as dawn light filled the forest but not really seeing it. Why had he chosen that song, of all those he knew, to sing? Tears rolled unchecked down his fair face and he choked back a sob. Ecthelion had written it shortly after reaching Middle-Earth, when they were so full of hope.

Someone knocked on the door and he didn't answer, hoping the intruder would just go away. The knock came again, louder and more persistent.

"Glorfindel," came the familiar voice of Erestor, "I know you are in there."

"Go away."

There was a momentary pause, then the door opened and Erestor entered. "Glorfindel, what is wrong? I have not seen you since last night and you were troubled then. Are you all right?"

"Please, just go away." Glorfindel wiped at his eyes. "Leave me alone."

"I am your friend." Erestor sat beside him. "I will not leave until you tell me why you are so distressed."

Glorfindel gave a sound as close to a sob as a sigh. "I do not belong here, Erestor."

"What do you mean?"

"I am a stranger here. Everything I knew is gone. The people I knew have passed into the West or...or..." He choked back the words, unable to continue.

Erestor rubbed his back soothingly as Glorfindel was wracked by sobs. After a few moments, the golden-haired Elf managed to regain some of his composure.

"People speak of events and heroes I have never heard of and stare at me when I cannot offer anything."

"Your song was welcome in the hall yesterday."

Glorfindel waved that away with a gesture. "They stared at me, Erestor, like I was Morgoth himself."

"They stared at you in wonder. That song is unknown to us."

"I am likely the only one alive this day who knows it. Ecthelion wrote it after we crossed the Grinding Ice and the sun and moon rose. We had such great hope and lingering fears but clearly the Valar had not fully abandoned us." Glorfindel sighed. "And then the battles. So many died. We thought Gondolin was safe. The attack seems like only yesterday to me. I feel I should see the Encircling Mountains when I look out the window. I want to hear the cry of the great eagles who watched over us." He finally met Erestor's gaze. "When I hear a knock on the door, I half-expect to see Ecthelion walk in."

Erestor pulled his hand away. "I am sorry, I did not know. I will leave---"

"Please, don't," Glorfindel begged. "I did not mean it in that way. I value your friendship---it means more than I can say. But I feel lost, a stray child who wishes only to go home again. No one can truly understand what I know. Lindir sings of heroes I called friends."

Glorfindel slumped over, holding his head. Erestor reached out again, tentatively, and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders. Glorfindel accepted the quiet support.

"Lord Elrond once told me history is made up the stories of the survivors," Erestor said.

Glorfindel looked at him, his lips twisted in a wry smile. "Because I died, I am lost in history?"

Erestor shook his head. "Because you died, your stories have yet to be told. We know of your death, but what about your life? I would like to hear your tales."

"Out of pity?"

"Out of friendship. And curiosity. In all the books on the history of Arda, little is said of you and Ecthelion. We know by assumption you followed Turgon to Gondolin. You both fought at Unnumbered Tears. Ecthelion died slaying the lord of the Balrogs---"

"I always told him the fountain was too deep," Glorfindel said, smiling faintly. "Lord of the Fountain. The title fit him so well. He took delight in water in all forms. He would have liked this place, I think. Though we would never see him---he would spend all his time at the falls."

Glorfindel sighed deeply. After a long silence, he looked at Erestor. His blue eyes were dry but there was still a shadow there.

"There is no pleasure in coming back, Erestor. I feel...rejected by the Valar. And afraid. And very alone."

Erestor rose suddenly. "Come with me," he said.

"Where?"

"There is a place I wish to show you."

"I am not dressed for---"

"I give you to the count of one thousand to meet me at the front doors. If you are not there, I will come get you if you are nude."

With that threat, Erestor smiled secretively as he left the room. Glorfindel sighed heavily, still feeling depressed. But he rose and slowly began to dress.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

They followed the river downstream until what had been a dawn sun was now hanging low in the sky. Erestor followed a trail he seemed familiar with although Glorfindel could see no trace. Glorfindel suddenly stopped, head raised alertly. They had traveled far enough that the sound of the falls near the Last Homely House was barely a whisper but now the sound of another waterfall reached his ears. Erestor pointed out a trail leading through the brush and down a fairly steep incline and let Glorfindel lead the way now. He nearly ran into the golden-haired Elf when Glorfindel stopped suddenly with a startled gasp.

The trail ended on a narrow cliff that formed a natural balcony surrounded on all sides by steep cliffs. The late afternoon sun lit one side of the chasm with brilliant shades of red and gold. Glorfindel rushed to the edge of the cliff and stared down. To his left, a large stream tumbled off a rocky precipice, falling some distance to vanish in the mist and shadows of the River Bruinen far below. Sun struck the mist, creating colorful rainbows in the air, and highlighted the falls and parts of the gorge.

"It is beautiful," he said, his voice filled with quiet awe.

"I discovered this place just after we came here. I was hardly more than a child. Have a care," Erestor cautioned as Glorfindel leaped to a rock very near the edge. "Many of these rocks are loose. Should you fall, your body will be found somewhere around Hollin."

"So much has changed in this world." Glorfindel closed his eyes and smiled at the feel of the sun and spray on his face. "Has anyone ever returned to Gondolin?"

"No." Erestor sounded startled. "Valar, you don't know! All those lands are gone now, underwater for a thousand years and more."

Glorfindel stared at him, then sank onto the rock. Erestor moved up to sit beside him. "I should not be surprised," Glorfindel said, shaking his head slowly. "I saw so many changes just in the short years before my death. I was born under the light of the Trees and saw them die as the world went dark. And so many kings: Finwe, Fëanor, Fingolfin, Finrod, Fingon, Turgon…all slain because of that stupid Oath."

"Slain to protect their people from the darkness," corrected Erestor. "But not all has changed."

"Which means I am as likely to be stabbed by an orc now as I was then?"

Erestor laughed. "My friend, I pity any creature that tries to kill you."

Glorfindel smiled as well. "It has been some time since I last wielded a blade."

They sat in companionable silence for some time. The sun sank behind the mountains in the west. Finally Erestor asked, "What was it like?"

"Hm?"

"The light of the Two Trees. I know the tales but I would like to hear it from someone who lived there."

Glorfindel leaned back and stared at the sky. The bright star of Eärendil was just a glimmer against the darkening horizon. "Fire and ice," he said thoughtfully. "We knew not ice then, for the Valar made sure we were neither too warm not too cold. But as I look back, that is how I think of them. Laurelin's light was like sunlight reflecting on water while the light of Telperion was cool and silvery. There was neither day nor night.

"Not long after my adventure as an eagle, I tried to climb Laurelin. I wanted to see if the leaves were warm to the touch." Glorfindel laughed softly. "My father was horrified. He threatened everything from murder to banishment. I think the Valar probably found the entire incident amusing. They looked upon even the eldest of us as beloved children."

"And you speak of Eärendil as unruly?"

"I was not destined for greatness."

Erestor raised an eyebrow. "So says the Elf who slew a Balrog."

"Perhaps not as much greatness---after all, I died," pointed out the golden-haired Elf before continuing his story. "The Darkening of the Trees was both terrifying and fascinating. There was a great festival to celebrate the harvest. Laurelin went dark first. Not all at once---the light began to fade as the poison spread upward---but it was a time of day when both Trees should have been at their brightest so we noticed right away. Then Telperion began to fade as well."

Glorfindel shuddered at the memory. "The first nightfall was terrifying. An evil blackness spread from the dead Trees. We lit torches but even that light seemed diminished. Then Manwë sent a wind to disperse the blackness and we could see the stars." A smile lit his features. "I had never paid them much heed, though Tirion was built where we could enjoy both the light of the Trees and the stars. After the death of the Trees, they were a promise of hope."

Erestor sat silent, entranced by the tale Glorfindel spun.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

1 Blind Guardians. Nightfall in Middle-Earth. The Eldar. Century Media. 1998. The chorus was left out to make the song fit better in the story.