Chapter Eight. I love being evil and angsty. Never a good sign.

"Glorfindel, I think I have this all under control. Legolas wants to see me about some last minute details and then we will write up the final document. Why don't you get some rest?" Lord Elrond's infernal eyebrow shot up in questioning.

Glorfindel's only question was how the elf lord managed to raise his eyebrows. Maybe it was a sort of requirement to be the lord of Imladris. The most intriguing thing about it was Elladan and Elrohir had the frightening ability to imitate their father when it suited them, like making Estel laugh and scaring Erestor out of his wits. Always an entertaining thing.

"Of course." Glorfindel nodded and left the study. He stretched his arms up and released the tension in his shoulders and back. He let out a huge yawn, blinking away the tears that formed in his eyes. He looked out the window and at the blue skies and bright sunshine. His heart leapt with joy at the sight.

He took a small side door and entered the central garden that separated the hall used for serving meals and the rest of the Last Homely House. He took a deep, cleansing breath of the floral air and began to wander through the extensive garden. The wildflowers that naturally grew amongst the grass were crushed underneath his steps and let out an aromatic scent that charmed his mind.

Glorfindel suddenly paused in his tracks and looked at the gnarly, stunted oak tree that curled around the ever-blooming rose bushes and above the white lilies the lady Elrohir had his eye on loved so much. He was suddenly reminded of another time, and another tree much like the one he stood before.

Glorfindel, lord of the House of the Golden Flower, offered his arm to the brunette elleth who had accepted his invitation of spending the afternoon with him. She smiled shyly up at him as they walked down a familiar garden path, and he swore he felt that cliché feeling of his heart skipping a beat. Normally very open (for an elf, that is), he suddenly found his throat closed up.

"How have your days been of late, milady?" He inquired politely. He didn't know what had attracted him to her, but there was something different in her eyes.

"Very fine. My brother is going to be bonded to an elleth he's loved for many centuries within the next twenty-five years." She told him with a smile. "And you, my lord Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel smiled. He enjoyed seeing the happiness of his fellow elves. "I have been bored." He chuckled as her laughter filled the air. His pointed ears flushed slightly at the sensation of her laugh washing over him. "Indeed, I have been, but it is your presence that makes those many days feel insignificant, my lady Nieriel."

"Do you speak like this to every elleth you take on an afternoon walk?" Nieriel asked with a broad smile.

Glorfindel leaned against a gnarled tree that was the favorite of trysting lovers. "No, and neither do I do this." He drew her closer to him and leaned in, his lips seeking hers in a sweet kiss.

Glorfindel's fingers traced the bark, biting his bottom lip as he fought to retain his emotions. He never had the chance to find out if he loved Nieriel. The afternoon walk he had taken her on was on the afternoon before the Balrogs attacked. He had seen her frightened face in the crowd before the flames consumed her. Tears streaked down his perfect, ageless face. His legs collapsed underneath him and he leaned his forehead against the bark.

"I'm sorry, Nieriel, I loved you and I never had the chance to tell you. I let you die, consumed before my eyes. I'm sorry…" He grieved, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

He felt a caress of the wind through his hair and his soul quivered. He had loved her, and now she was in Mandos' Halls. He had lost her. He sniffed, wiping his tears from his face, using his sleeve. He knelt there, his fingers gripping the tree, trying to hold onto his desperate memories from the past.