Dawn was upon them, and the summer sun streamed through the window of Glorfindel's chamber bathing the room in light.
The Istari was standing by the window with his pipe in hand when Glorfindel opened his eyes.
Noticing the movement Mithrandir returned to the side of the bed as Glorfindel sat on his bed, looking about him in confusion. His eyes came to rest on the Istari and his brow furrowed, "Olórin?"
Mithrandir nodded, "You were told to expect me here?"
"I saw you in a dream," Glorfindel frowned, "but where is here?"
"You are in Balar, I will do what I can to answer your questions, things will be confusing for a time"
"I am cold, and my head hurts."
"It will take time for the coldness of Namo's Halls to leave you," Mithrandir answered placing a warm quilt over his shoulders. "The pain in your head will be due to the bottle of dwarven liquor that you imbibed last night, drink this, it will help."
Glorfindel drank down the liquid in one go, grimacing at the taste, "That is fowl!"
Mithrandir chuckled. Seeing the basin on the bedside table, Glorfindel splashed water over his face, before curling up again on the bed, securely wrapping himself in the quilt.
Mithrandir sat back in the chair, eyeing the golden haired elf in his quilted cocoon. "We should start at the beginning I think, can you tell me your name and city?"
Alert Sapphire eyes observed him warily. "I thought you were to answer my questions?"
"And I will lad, but I can scarcely answer your questions if I do not know how much knowledge you have retained."
"You make a fair point," Glorfindel seemed to think it over before answering, "I am Glorfindel of Gondolin."
"Good, and what is the last thing you remember?"
Darkness clouded the blue eyes, and he lowered his head speaking in barely a whisper, "I remember pain, falling, burning." The elf's head snapped up. "I remember death, my death, how is this possible?"
"Your time on Arda is not yet over, you are needed still; the Vala have returned you to fulfil your destiny, what else do you remember?"
Glorfindel looked utterly perplexed by the Istari's comments, "Cold, I remember cold, and dreams, nay nightmares, nothing but emptiness for an eternity."
He continued, "Is the world much changed? How long have I been gone?"
"Time passes differently in Namo's halls, you were given the time to heal and grieve, you have been 'gone'" Mithrandir stated using the golden elf's terminology, "about a day."
The blue eyes flashed in disbelief, and Glorfindel rose swiftly discarding the quilt as he did so. Coming to stand before the mirror upon the desk, he leant on both arms to study his reflection.
Glorfindel laughed, not the laugh of the jovial but the laugh of the startled, and he whirled about the face the Istari, "I have not seen this face since I was at my majority!"
"Your body reached its majority only yesterday."
"Upon the Gates of Summer? But wait, what then has became of the faer (spirit) that was housed in this frame? If he has gone to dwell in my place among the dead, I would sooner return than condemn him to that fate!"
Mithrandir sighed, "You are him as he is you, you do not remember him at present, but you will in time."
Glorfindel shook his head, "I do not understand."
"It is not necessary for you to understand this, indeed you cannot; you must simply accept."
Glorfindel fingered a winter tunic lying upon the dresser, the thick velvet soft against his fingers, "Can I wear this?"
Mithrandir chuckled, "Of course, it is yours."
Glorfindel slipped the tunic over his head and sat heavily upon the bed, "this is strange" he said with a sigh.
"Give it time lad."
"Lad? Olórin, I was born in the time of the trees, I am many things; young is not one of them."
"My apologies, it is a force of habit," Mithrandir smiled as he spoke, "You should not call me Olórin, here on Arda I am known as Mithrandir."
The golden haired elf nodded once, and turned his eyes to the ring that he was twisting about his finger.
"This ring, where did I get it?"
"That was a begetting day gift from Erestor."
"Erestor? It is a very fine ring, are we lovers?"
"Erestor is your friend, that" Mithrandir motioned toward a framed drawing hanging on the wall above his head, "is a sketch Erestor made of you both, I do not know what occasion it celebrates."
Glorfindel stood to look at the drawing, a thoughtful look upon his face that turned slowly into horror, "Mithrandir, did I hurt him? There is a memory, more akin to a dream really. Did I slay him?"
The Istari sighed, "There was an incident, what do you remember?"
"Nothing is clear, I remember seeing this elf upon the floor, there was blood, the weight of a knife in my hand, Mithrandir, what did I do? He is just an elfling!" Glorfindel slumped down onto the floor, his hands covering his face.
"Easy Glorfindel," Mithrandir whispered, placing his hand upon the fallen elf's shoulder
"So the Doom of Mandos catches up to me with certainty, kinslayer after all this time," Glorfindel looked up, grief in his eyes, "that I should pass over the Helcaraxë and take no part in the kinslayings of old, matters not at all, for here I sit, kinslayer at last, I would have the Valar judge me harshly for this abominable act."
"Stop, say not another word Glorfindel, and listen to me. The healers are confident that Erestor will be well."
The golden elf opened his mouth to speak, but Mithrandir raised a hand to silence him.
"You will be questioned about what happened last night, speak the truth only and all will be well."
"He will live? Thank the Valar"
A/N
Golden Elf – Thank you for your comments, those Wizards are sly, there is no telling when or even if Mithrandir will speak :o)
Crecy, CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur – Thanks for your comments, I'll keep the updates coming, I promise!
