Author: Estelrond

Disclaimers and all that good stuff can be found in Chapter one. I appreciate reviews though. I'm a feedback junkie.(plus, if you don't, I'll send my assassin elves after you.) I have to give a hug to Sio and Carol, my most faithful reviewers, I don't think they've missed a chapter! You rock, ladies!

The rest of this story can be found at (reviews there are nice as well)

sigh flashbacks WERE in italics, but now we're doing a flashback within a flashback. (Confusing I know) So only the second flashback will be in italics. Except Yahoo doesn't like italics, so it'll be marked with these …ok I will shut up now.

Part Six

Like a Son

I... I came here by day, but I left here in darkness

And found you, found you on the way

And now, it is silver and silent, it is silver and cold

You, in somber resplendence, I hold

-AFI

It seemed to be his mission in life, he mused, rescuing hapless souls at his own expense. His entire life seemed to be dedicated to serving others. Not what most deemed a fitting task for a warrior of his prowess. Strangely enough he found he did not mind, in fact, he knew that if given the chance he would have made the same decisions over again. Though he might want to find a better way to deal with Balrogs.

Going farther downstream, he stripped off his outer garments and took a long swim in the gently flowing brook. It cooled off both his body and his temper.

Clambering out of the water, Glorfindel lay on the cool grass beside the stream, letting the sun and caressing breeze dry him. The scene was tranquil in a way that the Balrog-slayer had rarely known it. It had been so long…

"What're you doing?" asked a young voice curiously, interrupting the silence the blonde warrior had been so enjoying.

"Swimming." He replied, snapping the word out irritably. It was rare that one got a chance to be alone in Gondolin, and this shaded pool had been Glorfindel's favorite place of escape…that is until now.

"What for?" The voice came again.

Glorfindel turned to give a particularly agitated answer (It had been a trying day and his temper was not very long in shorting out on a good day) but was stopped short when he saw the speaker.

It was a young elf probably somewhere between the ages of 50-100. Obviously old enough to be wearing the ornate dagger he had on his belt apparently. He was a very strange young elfling, his hair was glossy black, but seemed unruly, with a stray lock that refused to stay out of his eyes despite the intricate braids, and those eyes, they seemed to be emerald pools that held a wisdom beyond their years. But above all else, this youngster seemed innocent, and a little stubborn.

"What for?" He asked persistently.

Glorfindel sighed, giving up the idea of relaxation, "Because the day is hot, and the water is cool. It helps me to relax."

The youngster nodded thoughtfully, then plopped down on the bank gracelessly, "Why do you need to relax?"

The blonde warrior pulled himself out of the water and sat next to the elfling. "Sometimes, when one has a very trying day attempting to train a score or so of untrained young warrior hopefuls, one looses one's temper and needs to relax so they don't get angry and do something that they later wish they hadn't." he explained, after all, the little elf hadn't been trying to annoy him, he was just curious, as young ones were wont to be.

"Maybe that's why, then." The youngster mused quietly.

"Why what?" asked Glorfindel, slightly puzzled at this enigmatic answer.

The elfling turned sad, soulful eyes upwards, "Why Ada's always mad. Maybe he needs to relax too." It was an innocent statement, but had aroused the blonde warrior's interest.

"Who is your Ada, penneth?" He questioned. He didn't know the little elf, but perhaps he knew his father, and could see if anything could be done. The situation was obviously detrimental to the young elf and Glorfindel might be able to help. Perhaps his Ada was a soldier that simply needed time off. That he could do something about.

"Morifaer." Replied the elfling.

Ah.

Now Glorfindel understood. Morifaer was the closest friend of Maeglin, nephew of the king, and none had been in good spirits lately. Maeglin was in a foul mood over the matter of Idril Celebrindal, who had left him behind in favor of Tuor, a mortal man who was in high favor with the king. It was an odd situation, and one that was somewhat unsettling to Glorfindel, who , warrior though he was, preferred an orderly, peaceful way of things, in contrast to the political turmoil that was running rampant within the king's inner circle.

Glorfindel had never really like Morifaer. He was a dark, brooding individual who had an disquieting aura of power and proud, haughty manner. He was also known to have a foul temper. His wife was hardly better, Moralindir was a fiercely passionate, commanding woman who liked to have her way. She was also extremely gifted. He wondered how the two had managed to get along enough to have any children.

"What is your name, Morifaerion?" prodded Glorfindel, seeing the young one drawing in on himself as the warrior had sat in silence.

The little elf cocked his head, "Farlest. I'm the oldest, I've got a little brother. He likes to bite. Ada says that I'm his little warrior, he's teaching me how to fight. Nana says my little brother's going to be better than me. But I don't think so, he just likes to pull my braids and bite my ankle. Warriors don't bite ankles."

The little elf continued to rattle on, and Glorfindel listened. Farlest alternately amused and worried him as he continued his seemingly endless one-sided conversation with the tall elf sitting beside him. And the warrior listened. Farlest probably didn't have anyone to listen to him at home, and Glorfindel thought to relieve some of his loneliness. After a while, he wondered how the raven haired elfling managed to keep going, as he didn't seem to pause for breath.

"I like using a dagger and sword at the same time, do you ever use a sword and dagger at the same time? I think it works better, so if your enemy gets to close you can get them with the knife instead of the sword, or if you're in real trouble you can throw the knife. Ada says it's silly to fight with a knife and a sword but I don't, do you think it's silly? I can't shoot a bow real well yet, but I'm getting better, Ada says we can't hunt though cuz it's not safe. I think I would like hunting, have you ever gone hunting? Ada says the city is hidden, so the Balrogs and dragons won't come. Have you ever seen a Balrog? I wanna see a Balrog. Ada says he'll get me a horse for my next birthday. I hope it's black. Do you have a horse? You swim really well. I don't know how to swim, Nana says I don't need to swim. I think I do. Could you teach me to swim?"

The elfling finally stopped chattering and looked expectantly up at his companion. It took a moment for Glorfindel to sort out exactly which answer Farlest was waiting for.

"I suppose." He replied, hoping he was answering the right question from the myriad of inquiries thrown his way in the past few minutes.

"Oh good!" the elfling was delighted. "Could you teach me tomorrow? Nana is probably making dinner and if I don't get home soon I won't get any."

Glorfindel smiled, the talkative little fellow already enamored him. "Run along then, Farlest. I'll see you tomorrow."

The raven-haired youngster sprang up from his place beside the blond and dashed up the garden path. Just before he disappeared over the hill he turned back. "What's your name?" he called back, obviously having just remembered that he didn't know the identity of his newfound friend.

"Glorfindel."

Farlest grinned, " 'k, see you tomorrow, 'Findel!" He waved happily and sped off down the hill and vanished from the warrior's sight.

That was the beginning of a long and fulfilling friendship. Farlest's visits in the garden quickly became the highlight of Glorfindel's days. The little fellow showed up like clockwork, always eager and exuberant. It was a refreshing relief from the tedium of the drills and training exercises that the warrior led for Gondolin's army.

The warrior quickly became Farlest's best friend and confidante. He told him all his secrets, both the little, childish things and the important ones. Glorfindel soon found that his young friend was somewhat moody, and his moods were dictated by the level of hostility between his parents.

As the years passed, he became frustrated as he told of his mother's constant instigating of rivalry between he and his younger brother, whom he loved to distraction. It hurt him that his mother seemed to think he was inferior in some way. While his father thought that Farlest was far superior to his younger sibling. Glorfindel came to understand that Morifaer and Moralindir used their children as weapons in their constant power struggle.

It was no wonder that Morifaer had chosen his eldest in the familial conflict as Farlest was an eager learner and a genius with weapons. Glorfindel found that sparring with Farlest was harrowing and that, unlike with the unseasoned trainees that were his usual rivals, he had to sincerely try, to put his heart into it, when he sparred the younger elf. Also, Farlest didn't have a firm grasp on the rules that usually dictated such contests. The warrior soon found that Farlest's 'dirty' fighting tactics had been taught to him by his father. Glorfindel had his own suspicions as to exactly what his young friend's parent was training him to be. After all, the cunning combination of stealth, ingenuity, creativity, and less than above-board fighting tactics usually meant only one thing. Assassin. And if Farlest was destined to be an assassin, Glorfindel certainly had no wish to have his young friend hunting him. He sincerely doubted his chances in such a circumstance.

Glorfindel was somewhat successful in teaching the elfling a code of honor that had been a deliberate oversight in his otherwise thorough training. As the years passed, the warrior realized that the budding warrior was more a son to him than just a friend. He found that he loved the elfling and was genuinely concerned with his well-being.

And Farlest was happy to assume the role, still blissfully unaware of the importance of 'Findel, in Gondolin.

One day, while sitting on 'their' bank by the small pool, Farlest confided in his friend that there was a maiden in whom he was interested.

"Have you talked to your father about her?" asked the elf-lord.

Farlest plucked a blade of grass, "Why would I do that. He wouldn't listen anyway. And if he did he'd probably disapprove. He spends so much time with his friend at the palace that he doesn't have time for me anyway. So I'm taking her to the festival today. She's really a jewel, Fin." His eyes became dreamy and he stood, fiddling with the blade of grass and staring into space.

"Well meet me here tonight and tell me how it goes." Glorfindel was glad for the young warrior and was confident that if he was truly fascinated with this girl then there was no need to worry. He was looking forward to their meeting tonight. He wouldn't mind if Farlest was a little late.

If only he had known what the night would bring.

The celebration was still underway when Glorfindel met Farlest at their garden refuge. The younger elf's retelling of the day's events wasn't quite coherent, but that was to be expected. The young elf lady had obviously been thrilled with her young suitor and they had had a splendid time.

Glorfindel and his young protégé were sharing a comfortable silence when all hell broke loose…

Glorfindel winced at the memory. The unthinkable had happened that night, and Gondolin had come under attack, had been defeated. There had been fighting throughout the city and Farlest had stayed with him through it all. He had been there when Idril had come to him and told him to hasten, as she had prepared a secret escape route in case of attack. Farlest had been there when they emerged into daylight once more. But he had taken a rearguard position, and had watched helplessly, unable to get to his friend who had been the only real father-figure in his life, as he fought a foe against which there was no chance of victory. Glorfindel had only caught a glimpse of Farlest during his duel with the fire-demon, and there was despair and horror in those deep emerald eyes. That was the last he had seen of him. And the last thing he had heard in that lifetime had been Farlest screaming his name. But he did not like to remember the young warrior that way. They had said goodbye as they entered the tunnel, just in case.

"This may be the end, Farlest." Said Glorfindel quietly, his voice oddly calm in light of the danger they were in.

"Don't say that, Fin! We won't die! I won't let us!" his young friend was adamant, still being of the age where there was nothing beyond his capabilities to his way of thinking.

"No, Far, there is not much chance that either of us shall survive this day." The elf warrior saw that there were tears in the other's eyes, and knew that they were threatening to spill from his own as well. "I-" he choked on the words, wrapping the other in a fierce hug, he wept, oblivious to the chaos around them.

"Fin, please…" pleaded the raven-haired elf softly. His voice was so lost, so hopeless. It nearly broke Glorfindel's heart.

He drew in a ragged breath as he fought the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him, "No. There is no other way. If we survive this, it will be an unlooked for mercy from the Valar. Im meleth lle. Namarie, ion-nin."

The warrior drew his sword, and didn't look back, ignoring the despairing cries from the one he loved more than life itself. If he died today, he would make sure it was so that Farlest could live.

Glorfindel could feel unshed tears sting his eyes as he remembered. He wondered if Farlest was still alive. Or whether he had been one of those slain by orcs, or found his end elsewhere.

Speaking of ends…

He suddenly remembered the young vagabond he had left back at camp. "How long have I been here?" he wondered. Hopefully the rascal hadn't made off with his horse.

Tbc

I love my Glorfindel!