A/N: Whee! Here we are again. I'll save the real author's note for the end of this chapter. For now, enjoy!

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Glorfindel opened his eyes to find Elrond peering worriedly down at him.

"Lord Elrond? You're not a beautiful, female Vanyar- could you back away please?"

"Lord Glorfindel, I'm trying to see if you have a concussion. Since you don't, I will." Elrond made good on his word, and allowed Glorfindel to observe his surroundings. Glorfindel's mind was always a bit slow to wake up. He simply looked, and noted that his leg was in a cast, a set of crutches were propped within easy reach atop his nightstand, and that (judging from the sunlight pouring in from the nearest window) it was approximately noon.

Lord Elrond allowed him to digest this, and then broke the silence. "Lord Glorfindel. I am sorry to bother you, but I do have some questions that need answering."

Glorfindel settled back on the pillow. His attitude was respectful, but not at all subservient. "Very well."

"There has been little traffic with Númenor of late, and much of that has been cold. How is this new king- what is his name? – minded to treat with the Eldar?" asked Elrond.

Glorfindel replied, "his name is Ar-Pharazon. I would strongly advise you to cut off all communications with that once blessed island. He and his band persecute those who worship the Valar. He has been warring with Sauron (as, I am sure you know) and although he originally took him as a captive, it is now Sauron who commands. I only escaped from there because Isildur of the Faithful (as those who would still worship the Valar are called) saved me. They are starting to worship Morgoth, in hopes of cheating Mandos. More, they are beginning to sacrifice Eldar and Edain alike. The only reason I was not given to their altar-fires is because Isildur and Amandil kept me hid. My companion, Miredhel, was not as fortunate. He is now in Mandos' halls. Do not take vengeance- the Valar are jealous of that privilege. And Numenor's doom is swiftly falling."

Elrond nodded. He wore a grim look upon his face. "And as to Celeborn's, Galadriel's and Celebrian's visit from Lothlorien?"

"They will be coming within the month."

"Thank you. If you will excuse me …"

It was obvious to Glorfindel that the Peredhil was horrified by his report as to the status of Numenor. Additionally, Elrond would want to think this over: the Numenorean kings were descended from his (by all accounts) beloved twin brother. Glorfindel nodded, allowing the other elf in the room to step forwards. Glorfindel stifled a groan: by all the Valar, what had he done to deserve Erestor before breakfast? His anger was slightly appeased by the sight of the laden tray the Noldorin carried. Erestor set it down on a nearby table and grinned at him.

Glorfindel treated the chief advisor to his most impressive scowl. It had once caused Tuor to back away from Idril one warm summer evening; unfortunately, it did not have the same effect on Erestor.

"Good morning!" chirruped Erestor. "Don't scowl like that- what if your face freezes up? Incidentally, I am really, really sorry, for –"

Glorfindel raised his palm in negation. "Spare me. Please, leave that tray on my bedside table and go find whoever is in charge of my healing. I would appreciate the knowledge of the actual status of my leg."

"Don't worry. Your leg wasn't that badly broken." Glorfindel barely managed to suppress a grimace. Broken? He'd be incapacitated for over a month! "It'll heal within two months. And, since I'm really sorry about breaking it, I've taken over your case."

Glorfindel didn't say anything to that since he was lost for curses foul enough to describe the situation. At length, he managed to say, "you've taken over my case?"

"Certainly. Lord Elrond has much to do, and since I've found a competent secretary, I should have just enough time to take care of you. Lord Elrond taught me himself."

Glorfindel was frantically praying to Iluvatar that this was only a nightmare and that he would find himself tangled up in sweaty sheets in the morning. Alas, it was not to be.

"Would you please do me the most wonderful favor?"

"Gladly."

"GET OUTTA' MY ROOM!"

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A/N: Doom is used in the older meaning of fate.

Yes, I know I named the current Numenorean king as Ar-Adunakhor. But then I was using my index (ROTK). The change to Ar-Pharazon is due to my finding my Silmarillion.

I'll be away for at least 2 more weeks. I'm really sorry I haven't updated this in so long, but family stuff happened . . . and you get the message.

I always had trouble picturing Elrond and Galadriel as happily getting along. These are two strong-minded individuals, each ruling realms with (I'd assume) different approaches and of differing elven races just chumming it up? I always thought that life would have been very . . . interesting whenever these two were close enough to talk to each other.