Chapter Three: Departure

"You WHAT?"

Belegon took the advisor's shoulders between his two hands. "Calm down, Erestor. You're overreacting."

The dark-haired Elf stared at him with a mixture of disbelief, horror, and disappointment in his blue eyes. "Belegon Taurvagorion, how could you do that to me?"

"You speak as if I had thought it all up myself. Sit down before you work yourself into hysterics."

Erestor sat down. He stared at his hands, not moving or speaking, as if his mind was too occupied with trying to absorb the new rush of information. "Belegon, why?"

He sighed. "Erestor, this is hardly reason enough for you to react so. All I said was that Glorfindel will be joining us on the delegation to Mithlond next week. Lord Elrond suggested it, and I gave my approval."

"How could you?" pleaded Erestor. "Do you not understand how important this delegation is to Imladris? We will have no peace if Glorfindel comes along. Do you want what happened in that council three days ago to happen in the talks with Lord Círdan's folk at Mithlond?"

"Calm down," Belegon soothed, giving the flustered advisor a calm smile. "We are not going to fall into war with Mithlond over Glorfindel's presence at the delegations. Lord Elrond is merely sending him along for extra protection, since most of the Guard will be protecting Imladris's borders. He is an excellent swordsman, whatever else he may be."

Erestor bit his lip. "I was looking forward to this journey."

"There is no reason why you cannot look forward to it still."

"I thought it important that Lord Elrond trusted me to negotiate with Mithlond unaided."

"It is important. Nothing has changed about that, you have my word. I sincerely doubt that Glorfindel will take any interest in contributing to the discussions. He only participates with Lord Elrond's councils because he is expected to as a notable citizen of Imladris. He is going as a guard, not an ambassador."

Erestor sighed, toying with the embroidered sleeve of his dark blue robe. "I thought that one of the reasons that Lord Elrond wanted Glorfindel to stay was that he needed someone to act as Chief Advisor while I was away."

Belegon shrugged. "He did not mention it, so I assume he changed his mind."

The advisor looked up at Belegon. "Why did you give your approval? You know how difficult Glorfindel can be."

He frowned. "The only person in Imladris who seems to have any difficulty with Glorfindel is you. One of the reasons I gave my approval to the idea was that I think that if the two of you are forced to spend time with one another, you will learn to work out your differences."

Erestor's face suddenly broke out into a wry smile. "You speak to me as you would to an Elfling that refused to get along with a playmate."

"Well, if you want my honest opinion..."

"Never mind." The advisor stood and sighed. "I suppose it will all work out to its end."

Belegon lifted an eyebrow. "I only hope that that end will be a desirable one."

"That remains to be seen." He offered Belegon a half-smile. "We will probably be either sworn friends or sworn enemies."

"Ilúvatar forbid the latter," he said, rolling his eyes heavenward. "I would have to bind and gag you both in order to make it back to Imladris in peace."

Erestor shrugged. "We could always drown him once we got to Mithlond."

"We could always drown you instead. Or even both of you."

"I doubt even the Sea is large enough to allow me to be as far from him as I would wish," said Erestor with a mirthless chuckle.

Belegon shook his head. "I long for the day when you and Glorfindel will put an end to this foolishness. You are both acting like squabbling Elflings, not a Chief Advisor and an Elf-lord."

"Dogs and wolves, my friend," said Erestor as he gathered his books and papers to leave. "Dogs and wolves."


Glorfindel tightened the drawstring on his pack one last time. They were almost ready to leave. He had brought just enough to get to Mithlond; when he arrived, he could get what he needed there.

He was more than a little concerned about what would happen on the journey. Captain Belegon had said that it would take about five days to ride there on horseback, unless bad weather delayed them. There was always the possibility of a snowstorm, so he had made sure to pack his warmest cloak. It was a soft dove-gray cloak, a gift from Círdan for the journey to Imladris, since at that time the frost was just beginning to coat the autumn leaves. Now the weather was brewing for the first snowstorm of the season.

Other storms seemed to be brewing as well. When Belegon had informed him of the trip, he had mentioned speaking of it to Erestor. He had not specifically stated that Erestor had been upset, but Glorfindel inferred that the advisor had not been pleased. He was not overly eager himself to spend two weeks traveling with the ill-tempered Erestor, but he was simply following Elrond's request. If Elrond wanted him to go, he would go. Erestor would just have to endure Elrond's decision. It wasn't as if either of them had a choice.

He shouldered the pack and stepped into the hallway, nearly running into someone in the process. There was a moment of confusion as both he and the other Elf tried to disentangle themselves, and then Glorfindel figured out who it was.

"Erestor!" he gasped. "My apologies, I did not see you."

"Think nothing of it," said the advisor gruffly, adjusting his weighty pack. He was dressed the same way as always, but had exchanged his dark robe for a dark cloak of the same hue.

Glorfindel briefly considered whether or not to offer help. Erestor's pack looked as if it weighed as much as he did—though in reality that was not very much—and he appeared to be struggling under the burden. Glorfindel decided that he might as well be polite; the collision had been his fault, after all "Would you like a hand with that?"

Erestor seemed taken off guard by the offer. "No, thank you," he said, then stopped and seemed to ponder something. He let the pack slide off his shoulders, and then he opened it and retrieved a thick leather pouch. The rest of the pack appeared to be normal items for a journey, at least for a person like Erestor: clothes that all looked the same, a bundle of fresh quills, a large sheaf of paper, a jar of ink, a bound volume that was several inches thick, and a hairbrush. The last item was such a contrast to the rest that Glorfindel chuckled to himself, but Erestor apparently took it the wrong way. He closed the pack quickly. "I like to read," he mumbled defensively.

Glorfindel blinked and decided that if that was a touchy subject, he might as well leave it alone. "What do you have in the pouch?" he asked lightly, picking it up to examine it.

Erestor snatched it out of Glorfindel's hands. "This pouch contains the reports, documents, and notes necessary for the meeting with Lord Círdan. They are irreplaceable, and so I cannot let them out of my sight." He shouldered the pack again—it appeared to be much lighter—and put the strap of the pouch over his neck and shoulder. "We must be off."

Glorfindel stood still a moment and crossed his arms as Erestor walked away. The advisor was the only person he had ever known that could make him feel completely unimportant.

Well. If Erestor preferred rudeness to civility, then Glorfindel was under no obligation to go out of his way to be friendly.


Rasaras Eltatharion breathed deeply of the crisp air. It stung his senses, filled his lungs with a slight chill. He breathed out, smiling at the slight cloud that his breath made in the morning air. Today was the day.

"Rassa! Rassa!" A plaintive call came from inside the house. He turned around just in time to catch a small, wiry child that came flying at him. "Rassa, you can't go!" said the Elfling into his neck.

He smiled, giving the girl a small hug. "Don't worry, Alphien. I will only be gone for two weeks."

The nest of silver-blond curls shook insistently. "But you can't!"

He chuckled. "Why not? It is important."

"Because you'll miss my party." Alphien was going to have a small party with a few friends to celebrate her begetting-day. They did not usually celebrate the day, but twelve years was considered to be something of a landmark for young Elflings, and Alphien was very excited. Unfortunately, because of the timing of the delegation to Mithlond, Rasaras would miss his little sister's party.

"I will celebrate with you as soon as I get home, I promise," he said with an apologetic smile. "Perhaps I will even bring you something from Mithlond."

She looked up at him, tears brimming in her light blue eyes. "But I want you to be at the party."

He grimaced. "I'm sorry, Allie. I wish I could be there, but this journey to Mithlond is very, very important. I was the only inexperienced warrior asked to come. Captain Belegon asked me to come with him and two other warriors, as well as Lord Glorfindel and the Chief Advisor, so that I could gain experience outside of Imladris."

Alphien sniffed. "Are you going to fight like Ada?"

"Just like Ada." Their father, Eltathar, had been a respected archer of the Guard for many years. However, he had left the Guard when Alphien was born, so that he could help support his family—at least that was what he had said. It was not uncommon for survivors of the bloody attempt to retake Eregion to lose all desire for warfare or armed defense. Sauron had been driven out of Eriador with the help of ships from Númenor, so the lands were at peace.

Now, Eltathar helped to train new Guard members instead of fighting himself, but he had been thrilled when Rasaras had shown himself to be gifted with the use of a bow. He had spent long hours with his son, honing his skills, until Rasaras had been accepted into the Guard with Elves more than twice his age. It had taken extra effort for Rasaras to prove himself to the older, more experienced Guard members, but eventually he had earned their respect. It was an interesting camaraderie—all of the warriors treated him as if he was their own son. He had never been happier.

"You won't get hurt, will you?" asked Alphien, her eyes growing wide.

He chuckled. "No. It is not a dangerous journey; we are merely escorting the Chief Advisor to Mithlond as an ambassador. But Lord Glorfindel will be there, and I hope he will be able to teach me what he knows about weaponry and warfare."

They were interrupted by the arrival of two Elves. Eltathar walked beside Rasaras and Alphien's mother Aranna, their faces proud but grave.

"Are you ready to depart, Rasaras?" asked Eltathar.

"Yes, Father," said Rasaras. He stood and set Alphien back on the ground, then reached down and picked up his bag. "Our company will depart in half an hour."

Eltathar nodded. "I thought that perhaps we should leave now, so that we have time to travel to the main building of Imladris. Your mother and Alphien will stay here."

Alphien wrapped her thin arms around Rasaras's legs as he said goodbye to his mother. "Don't go!"

He bent over and planted a small kiss on the top of her curly head. "I will see you when I return. Behave yourself while I am gone, Allie. Have a good time at your party."

"Rassa!" she wailed. She refused to let go of his legs and had to be pried off by her mother.

"Come, Rasaras," said Eltathar, heading out the door. "I will return in an hour, Aranna."

Rasaras shouldered his bag and followed his father, turning to wave one last time to his mother and sister.

The footpath from the small cluster of houses to the main complex of Imladris was short and fairly direct, so Eltathar set an unhurried pace. They traveled for a while in comfortable silence.

"Rasaras," said Eltathar suddenly, "I wanted to tell you something."

"Yes, Father?"

The tall Elf turned to look at Rasaras intently. "This journey will affect your position as a member of the Guard. If while on this trip you are able to prove yourself to Captain Belegon and the others, you will probably be given an even higher position than the one that you already hold. If you do not, it may be a long time before you receive an opportunity like this again."

Rasaras smiled. "I promise that I will do my best. I will not disappoint you."

"There is little danger of that, my son. I only mean to remind you to perform to your utmost. I know what you are capable of doing, and it would be a shame if you were passed over for recognition that I know you deserve."

There was a moment of silence. Rasaras felt warmed by his father's praise, but at the same time he suddenly felt extremely nervous. Suppose he said or did the wrong things? Suppose everything went wrong and he brought shame to his family and all of Imladris?

Eltathar seemed to read his thoughts, and he placed a reassuring hand on Rasaras's shoulder. "Do not spend your time worrying. All I am asking you to do is your best. Learn what you can from the guards you will be traveling with, especially Lord Glorfindel. He can teach you many things that I cannot."

"I will," promised Rasaras. Just then they came to the top of a hill, and beneath them lay Imladris, nestled in the valley like a jewel. The sight of it never became so familiar to Rasaras that it ceased to take his breath away, and he stood for a moment looking down on it with a proud feeling in his heart. This was Imladris, queen among the realms of the Elves, and he was one of her sons.

He felt his father give his shoulder a small squeeze. "If you like, I will let you go on alone from here."

He turned to look at his father. Eltathar stood tall and unwavering, the rising sun glinting on his light blond hair. His jaw was firmly set, but love and pride practically radiated from his azure eyes. Rasaras captured the image in his mind—this was his father as he had seen him often, but at the same time never really seen him. Eltathar to him was a paradox of trainer and father, master and guardian. He respected him as a mighty warrior, but knew the gentle side of him as few others did.

Eltathar smiled. "Take care of yourself, my son. Make us proud."

"I will, Father," he said earnestly, returning his father's smile with a shaky one of his own. "Farewell."

"Farewell, my Rasaras. May the Valar protect you."

Rasaras walked on down the path. He kept his eyes on the road, not daring to look back. He felt a strange sensation of loneliness overtake him, as well as the distinct feeling that he had left something behind him that he could never regain.

Before him lay Imladris. Before him lay his future: not just for the next two weeks, but for the rest of his life.

He took a deep breath and walked on. He did not look back.


Author's Notes:

First of all, sorry this chapter took so long to get out to everyone! It was an editing nightmare, and I'm still not one hundred percent sure of the final copy, but I decided that I had left you all hanging for long enough. To make it up to you, I'm posing two chapters at once. Enjoy!

Rous: Thank you so much for your kind words! I agree, there is hardly enough Erestor fanfiction. He needs more fans! I hope you enjoy these next chapters!

Elwen: Once again, thank you! I see what you mean about Glorfindel and Erestor's enmity being OOC... yet therein lies the story, and we shall see if it is all resolved at the end. All this is taking place before even the Daglorlad, so Glor and Ress still have a long way to go before we get to where their characters are in LotR. I enjoyed writing the harp scene—little Lindir is fun to work with. All in all, as long as you're enjoying the story, I'm perfectly happy.

Lady of the Twilight Woods: Sorry this took so long! I hope these were worth the wait. Thank you for your review!

Coolio02: I'm glad you enjoyed them, and I hope you enjoy these as well. Thank you so much for your kindness!

Erestor: Yes, Glorfindel does tend to take over, doesn't he? He just seems like a natural leader. I hope you like this final version of Three; I pretty much put back all the Rasaras and then trimmed it down. I hope it's not too much. I'm glad you're enjoying it; after all, that's the whole point!

Noldo: Ah, Fëanor. I can take or leave him, really. His second son, though... :D Everyone has to do a "Glorfindel Returns," "Legolas and Aragorn," and "Maglor Angst" story, it seems. I have 2 out of 3 so far! I agree about change: even Tolkien himself discussed how the Elves resisted change in any form. The humor just kind of slips in by itself... it comes with Glorfindel automatically, I think, and Erestor has an interesting sense of humor all his own. Those two are so much fun to write. Thank you for your kindness, and I hope you like the rest of it!

seeing-spots: I only give out kind words to those who deserve them. ;) I'm glad you're enjoying the story! This is the longest work I've ever done, and even I am surprised how far I've managed to come without letting it drop. I can assure you that I will finish it, and I hope at the end you decide it was sorth the wait. Enjoy it, and thank you for reviewing!

Avalon Estel: Thank you for reviewing "Snowballs"! Glorfindel, for all his grandeur as an Elf-lord, does tend to have a playful side, especially in fanfiction. I have not the slightest idea where I got the inspiration for that fic, but I'm glad you enjoyed it!