Disclaimer: I own the ocs and not much else in this world. Tolkien and the people who own his work, they own the rest of it.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Councilors and Cavalry

Now each visitor shall confess
The sad valley's restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless-
Nothing save the airs that brood
Over the magic solitude.

- Edgar Allan Poe, The Valley of Unrest

Imladris, Early Spring, TA 1975

"You cried?" Rian asked.

"Yes, yes, Rian, I cried." Morwen answered

"You cried." She said.

"Yes, Rian, I cried, I sobbed, I did not wail."

"You never cry, have you ever cried? Even when Elladan accidentally pushed you down the stairs and you sprained, bruised and near-on broke quite a few bones you did not cry." Rian said.

"I was still in shock, one moment I was standing and the next I was sprawled on the ground in some pain with what seemed like every elf in Imladris rushing to me side and Elladan screaming as loud as he could for Lord Elrond." Morwen tried to explain.

Rian giggled at the memory, "The first and only time we saw Lord Elrond shirtless."

Morwen shuddered, "Yes, that may have kept me from crying more than anything, it put me into even more shock."

"…but you cried!" Rian said, again.

Morwen let out an annoyed breath, "Rian, yes, I CRIED! Now, may we move on."

"Are you going to cry if we don't?" Rian asked with a smirk on her face.

Rian laughed as Morwen threw a pillow at her.

"That is the last time I share my fears with you." Morwen said.

"Oh, Morwen." Rian walked over to her, pulling her into an embrace, "I tease you only because I love you so much. What did Glorfindel say upon your parting?"

Morwen shrugged, "Stay in the palace and keep up correspondence between the realms."

Rian sighed, "Typical. Before that?"

"Try not to get myself killed by an orc or a troll or anything else since he is not quite certain where his mourning robes are." Morwen said.

Rian nodded her head slowly, "And before that?"

"Make sure Eluialeth ate her vegetables because Erestor worries about her health."

Rian shook her head in amazement, "Out of general curiosity, what did you say to him?"

Morwen titled her head as she tried to remember, "I asked him to do his best not to be killed and to try to make sure the twins weren't either."

"The amount of love between the two of you is overwhelming, honestly." Rian snickered.

"Personally, I prefer honest observations that convey a sense of normality rather than impending doom. No need to weep over him now, or rather then, when I can just save it for his corpse." Morwen stated.

"Morwen!" Rian was shocked.

"Right, horrible and inappropriate of me. I think this is how I cope, I bury it under layers of sarcasm and then lose all sense of tact. If I did not I would be thinking about how Arvedui, a boy we helped to raise, has now drowned and how the whole of the North Kingdom has been laid to waste and how the elf I am betrothed to and many of those dearest to me are out there fighting against the chief of the Nazgul and personally, I do not wish to dwell on such things. Perhaps we should talk about Cirdan's fleet being stopped by the ice, again. Or perhaps we might speak of the forces being raised in both the Havens and here and how Elrond has already set out with another guard for battle or that Erestor is currently in Gondor trying to rally their troops and you, and I, and Arwen have been essentially been left in charge since Lady Celebrian wishes to be close to her family and Elrohir has not yet returned from the battle field." Morwen took a much needed breath.

"I thought you wanted to not dwell on such things." Rian said.

"Alas, when the stacks of paperwork because of such things are staring me in the face, even I can not avoid it. Have the contingent of healers been sent to the Havens?" Morwen asked, turning back to her work.

Rian nodded, "Yes. We also have many of those who have fled the North Kingdom offering their help as aids. The chief among the healers still present in our hall are willing to train them if we give them leave."

"It is Arwen's decision. Where is she?" Morwen asked.

"Holed up in her room. I think the responsibility frightens her." Rian said.

"Ah, yes, the realization your life is not so care free as you think and the lives of many rest in your hands. Shocking, indeed. Nevertheless…" Morwen trailed off.

"I already sent Lindir to try and coax her out. Faeleth is also handling the planning of the rather subdued spring festival, so that is one less thing to worry about." Rian tried for optimism.

"At least there is something." Morwen said.

Morwen and Rian watched as the door opened and Eluialeth stepped in side.

"You have a letter from Galdor, Morwen."

Morwen stared at the letter in Eluialeth's hands, not certain if she wanted to read what was enclosed.

Rian took the letter from Eluialeth, thanking her and ignoring the look she received in return.

"Do you want me to open it?" Rian asked.

"No, it is fine. I am sure it is nothing. Let me see it please." Morwen took the note, reaching for a dagger and cutting the seal open. She scanned the letter and was comforted in knowing some of her worst fears had not come true, at least not yet.

"Elrohir will be delayed in returning. He is brining some of the more injured with him, those who will not be able to fight again until they fully heal and have a long time to do so. Elladan is among them, Rian, but he is in good spirit. He just has quite a nasty hole in his side, apparently. Cirdan, Elrond, and Glorfindel ordered him back to the house. The troops from Gondor have started to trickle in, coming in through the river. That means Erestor should be returning soon."

"But Elladan is alive." Rian said, wanting to assure herself.

"Alive and making jokes from what Galdor writes. Elladan hopes you will admire his new scar." Morwen said.

"As I hope Elladan will admire the bump he will get on his head! Honestly, is there a target painted on him? I swear, if it is not one thing, it is another." Rian muttered.

Morwen scanned the rest of the letter, "There are some death on our side. Their families will have to be contacted."

"There is something wrong when an elf's life is ended." Rian's voice was full of sadness.

"There is something wrong when any life is ended before its time." Eluialeth said.

"Yes, there is." Morwen agreed.

She placed the letter down and let her eyes drift towards the north, silently prayers repeating in her head.

Fornost, late summer, TA 1975

Glorfindel tried to hold back his irritation as the Captain of Gondor again praised himself for his most recent actions in battle. The man had a mighty spirit to be sure, and his aid of ships, men, and horses was more than appreciated. However, the way in which he treated some of the female elven warriors, some who had watched Elendil meet his fate, was hardly praiseworthy, same with his tendency to call Cirdan 'Grandpa.' Glorfindel had never suffered boasting fools lightly, having long ago grown out of such a habit himself.

Dying could do that to an elf.

He understood, more than anyone, pride in accomplishments, but honestly, among Cirdan, Elrond and yes, Glorfindel himself, Earnur, Captain of Gondor, was hardly the most valuable individual out on the field.

Even Glorfindel acknowledged that sentiment had elven arrogance in it but it was, nonetheless, true.

Elrond say down beside Glorfindel, "You are brooding."

"I am trying to be more like you." Glorfindel said.

"Ah, well then, we must find you a map. The only proper way to brood is to brood while looking over a map." Elrond joked at what many had termed his 'map obsession.'

"Not a book?" Glorfindel asked.

"No, no, you will read the book. Brooding and reading while brooding are two very different things." Elrond told him.

Glorfindel laughed, "Thank you, Elrond. I needed that."

Elrond smiled, "Of course you did. I certainly know I am feeling ancient on this battlefield, you must be…"

"Feeling like one of those old and hardened warrior elves I mocked in my youth. Youthful bravado and old experience hardly mix." Glorfindel said.

"Try doing your best not to yell at your sons for their seeming frivolity on the battlefield." Elrond grimaced at the memory of his actions.

Glorfindel covered his smile, "They often are verbally playful as they fight Elrond, but I can assure you they both take their positions very seriously. If Elladan was any less of a warrior, that injury to his side could have been far more serious."

"I know, and in retrospect I can see that, but when they are your sons, it is different." Elrond said.

Glorfindel smiled at his own memories, "I know. I was…terrified the first time I let them go out on a week-long patrol and I was not with them. Balanauth later told me he was certain I would kill him if one hair on their heads had been harmed."

Elrond gave an affectionate smile to his friend.

Cirdan walked over to them, "One of those….men just asked me why they were letting a grandfather fight. Was that an insult?"

"I believe they wonder at you because you are an elf with a beard and you do have quite a weather beaten face, my dear friend." Elrond said.

"Yes, well, considering the fact I am sure Arwen has hair ribbons older than most of them…" Cirdan trailed off as Glorfindel and Elrond laughed.

"The battle is going in our favor, we have that at least." Cirdan said, "though I would much rather be out on the seas right now."

"Poor Cirdan, forced to stay on land." Glorfindel said.

"'Tis a very harsh punishment, to be sure." Elrond said.

Cirdan gave him a look, "Elrond you would know how I feel if you were ever denied your beloved maps or books."

"It would never happen for fear of the outcome." Glorfindel said.

Elrond nodded, "Indeed. Though I do share your sentiment, I wonder how things go in Imladris."

"Erestor is there, Elrond, he will take care of the realm and the library….er, sorry, Cirdan." Glorfindel stopped himself.

Cirdan gave a cough and Glorfindel and Elrond pretended they did not see the twitch in his eyes

"As I was saying," Glorfindel continued, "I am certain Erestor has it all under control."

Imladris Last Summer, TA 1975

Erestor was laying his head down on his desk, praying for his mental fatigue to go away.

"Erestor?" Morwen inquired from the door.

"Yes, Morwen, come in." He answered, all the years of his life weighed down in his voice.

Erestor ignored the sounds as Morwen stumbled over everything in the room. Erestor had blown out all the candles and put dark cloth over all the windows in the hopes his headache would dissipate.

"Erestor I hate to…" Morwen stopped as she came flying into his desk. "sorry. I hate to bother you but there is a contingent of advisors from Gondor here wishing to discuss relations between our realms."

"Do they not have a regiment of soldiers out at Fornost fighting this very second?" Erestor asked.

"Apparently they feel the need to talk with us while Elrond is away and their soldiers are fighting." Morwen said.

Erestor sighed and pushed back from his desk reaching over to the windows and pulling back the cloth.

"I've never wished for a battle field more than I do now." He muttered.

"To be fair, Erestor, it is a sort of verbal and mental battle field."

"Morwen…"

"Go entertain the guests and look official and competent and intimidating."

"Thank you and please, tell Elladan and Elrohir to meet me down there."

"Of course." Morwen said and left the room.

Erestor walked over to his desk pulling out the satchel that held all notes and observations on the advisors of Gondor. He took one last breath and made his way to the meeting hall, preparing for his own fight.

Fornost, Autumn, TA 1975

The battle field was quiet, far too quiet. The orcs and goblins had been driven back into the mountains and an uneasy silence had settled over the field. Even those who had never experienced a battle before knew this was not the time to celebrate, there was something else yet to come.

Glorfindel looked out over the horizon, trying his best to find a sign. The battle had been waning for some time and both Cirdan and Elrond had gone back to their respective realms weeks ago. Elrohir had traveled back out as a replacement for his father, both as a solider and as healer, but with their side winning he was not often needed in either capacity.

The men of Gondor and the elven cavalry had succeeded in routing the forces of the Witch-King driving the forces, both orcish and human far back and away.

Still, there was something to come.

A cry rang out and Glorfindel whipped his horse around to face the mountains again there, there confirming all fears of the Wise and the unknown fears of many others, was the Witch-King himself.

Glorfindel situated himself on his white horse and watched as the Witch-King rode out, waiting to see what action he would take.

Death is often called a pale rider, or a rider on a pale horse, but evil…. Evil was another thing entirely and the Witch-King embodied the word.

He was garbed all in black, a black mask on his face, and he sat on a dark horse.

Many of the men of Gondor started to turn back as did the men of the North and quite a few elves.

The dark presence was in the air, invading the wind with its smell.

It was a smell Glorfindel was familiar with, one that still haunted his dreams.

The horses on their side protested even the elven ones could not be soothed.

But Earnur, Captain of Gondor attempted to ride forth.

Glorfindel bit back a smile, be it courage or foolishness the man did have a spirit.

"Are you not going to go save him from almost certain death?" Elrohir asked from his side.

"I suppose it would be the noble thing to do." Glorfindel said as Balanauth watched Earnur ride on, a smirk on his face.

"Morwen's going to kill you either way." Elrohir said.

"Most likely." Glorfindel said, attempting not to think about the wound he had on his side.

He patted the mane of his horse and asked "Are you ready for this."

He laughed as he was answered with an arrogant snort.

"I may have insulted her." Glorfindel said to Elrohir.

"It seems you have." Elrohir smiled.

Glorfindel pulled on the reins and raced ahead urged on by the flailing of Earnur's horse and the laughter of the Witch-King, a sound that had frozen many in their place.

Glorfindel did not know why but something about his presence sent the Witch-King into flight and as he rode off Glorfindel heard a powerful voice in his head, one he had not had the grace to hear since he dwelled on Aman.

Glorfindel watched the dark rider go off into the shadow as he sat on a pale horse.

He turned his head to the side as he heard a horse riding up, only slightly surprised it was Earnur.

"Why are you not going after him?" The Captain of Gondor demanded to know.

Glorfindel gave him a steady look, hiding back a smile of satisfaction as Earnur bowed his head.

"Earnur, I assure you, no being on this battlefield is capable of slaying the Witch-King, to go after him would be certain death and believe me, dying for glory is not all it is said to be. You serve your people much better by staying alive."

Earnur seemed to protest, anger and vengeance clear in his countenance.

Glorfindel gave him a warning look, "Do not pursue him! He will not return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall."

Earnur gave one last look to the horizon then turned back towards his men, disgust obvious in the set of his shoulders.

Elrohir then rode up, "Glorfindel, you were glowing."

"I believe it was the sweat, actually, this wound is starting to pain me." Glorfindel answered him.

"No, Glorfindel, you lit up, like Grandmother does when she is angry. You glowed with a white light." Elrohir said.

Glorfindel considered this for a moment as they rode back towards the encampment, "That does make some sense, what happens when an Elda meets a Wraith. That must have been his reason for running off."

Elrohir nodded, "Is what you said to Earnur true?"

"You heard that?" He asked.

"Glorfindel, I may be half-elven but I do still have the ability to hear like an elf."

Glorfindel smiled, "Of course you do. To answer your question, yes, it is true. He will not fall for some time and a man certainly will not be the one to bring him down."

"Then who will?" Elrohir asked.

Glorfindel smiled, "Riders on a pale horse."

Imladris, Autumn, TA 1975

Morwen looked up at the soft knock on the open study door.

"Lord Elrond," she smiled, "you are looking concerned."

Elrond smiled back at her, "Well, I must ask you to not get angry when I tell you something."

Morwen sat down her quill and closed up the ink well. Checking her hands for stray ink spots and finding none, she folded them into her lap. "Very well. I shall try not to become angry, though I make no guarantee."

"Of course." Elrond said. He walked over to the window staring out of the court yard.

"I have far spoken with Glorfindel. The Battle of Fornost is over."

"That is very good news." Morwen said.

"Glorfindel is slightly injured."

"Is he well?" Morwen asked.

"He is able to ride." Elrond answered.

"Right, but is he well?" Morwen asked again.

"I think he is more hurt than he is letting on."

"There is starting to be a little anger." Morwen said.

"Yes, well, rogue orc apparently. That, however, was not the news I feared would anger you."

"Well then, what is?" She asked.

Elrond turned to look at her, noting the tightening of her jaw and the defensive posture of her arms warped around her self.

"Before the battle was over, the Witch-King descended onto the field."

Morwen let out a harsh breath, her shoulders sagging.

"Earnur the Captain of Gondor rushed forward to confront him but his horse was not so keen on the idea."

"Smart horse." Morwen murmured.

"Glorfindel intervened and sent the Witch-King into flight."

"He did what?" Morwen asked, her voice wavering.

"Morwen, he did what he was supposed to do. Out of all gathered on those fields he was the only one capable of putting up a fight." Elrond said.

"Right, that is his duty I understand. But did he happen to do this before or after he was injured?" Morwen asked.

Elrond grimaced, "Before." He said in a quiet tone.

"Right." Morwen stated. "If you will excuse me, I need to go practice my knife throwing."

Morwen stood up and marched out of the office.

While she was angered, Elrond could clearly see the slight tremor in her hands, a sign of her fear.

Elrond felt a smile come to his face knowing Glorfindel was going to get quite an earful on his return. Such things, such obvious signs of love and concern did delight an elf as old and wise as he. Shaking his head and closing the door to Morwen's office he made his way towards the healing rooms, preparing them for the soldiers to come.

Here be a ton of author's notes.

A/N 1: The prediction Glorfindel makes to Earnur is directly from J.R.R. Tolkien's LotR Appendix A. (page 1027 in the all inclusive paper back version I have). And no, it is not said whether or not Glorfindel was injured at the Battle of Fornost.

A/N 2: The version of the events surrounding the Battle of Fornost slightly differ in the LotR appendix addition and the account of the death of Arvedui in the History of Middle Earth Volume XII: The Peoples of Middle Earth. (Yes, I own it, because I am a dork and big on research because I am a dork with one history degree and am getting another.) Appendix A makes it out like the Rivendell crew just came out of nowhere and sent the Witch-King flying. While the HofME version makes it seem like Elrond did the overthrowing. I'm saying Elrond was there, went back home, and made Glorfindel do the dirty work for him (and really, Glorfindel is the one who made the prediction about…the Witch-King's death as it is referenced many times, so I would take the Appendix A as complete and total truth..of a fictional event).

A/N 3: Renna, you get a virtual hug, big time.

A/N 4: Just occurred to me the whole "on a pale rider/horse" thing and people wondering, well, that's what my tarot cards show for death, but it also is a Pier's Anthony book title…in a series of books names after tarot cards that I never read because my mother tried to force them on me. I'm pretty sure it's also a biblical reference but it's been ages since I looked at Revelations. I'm sure Terry Pratchett fans also know this, though I am sorry, Glorfindel's horse is not Blinky.