There was very little that could rouse Glorfindel from a deep sleep, however, one of those few moments had chosen that morning to make itself apparent. With a low groan, he forced open his eyes and cocked an ear to the door and the incessant pounding upon it that had so rudely interrupted his slumber. Careful not to disturb his golden haired companion, he untangled himself from her long limbs and rose up on his elbows.
"Glorfindel! You had better be up and decent; I'm coming in if you do not answer this door!"
He shot upright, blue eyes wide. Ecthelion would have no qualms about barging in on his best friend and that was the last thing Glorfindel needed, to be caught with the princess in his bed. It did, however, serve as a reminder that though Idril has managed to slip out unnoticed the night before, she would soon be missed if she did not make an appearance in the court. Cursing to himself as the pounding continued, he leaned over and stole a kiss from the woman beside him. Sapphire eyes blinked open slowly with a soft sigh, then sharpened with clarity as the din at the door reached sleepy ears.
"What on Arda is that noise?" Idril murmured, sitting up in bed, his golden sheets slipping to her lap, baring her torso to his appreciative eyes. It took a moment before he tore his gaze from her and answered, "Ecthelion," he replied with a grimace. She understood immediately and moved from the bed, intent on her clothing.
"Valar, Glor, you're slower than a Balrog today!" Ecthelion shouted. The pair could hear the squeak of the door as he pushed it open and Glorfindel found himself thanking Elbereth that he had not taken the time to fix the hinges.
Throwing a blanket at the still nude princess, he gestured towards the closet in alarm. She nodded and ducked swiftly into its confines, the cloth clutched above her breast as the door closed upon her. Nary a second later, the door to the bedroom flew open, presenting the indignant Lord Ecthelion, his dark hair loose about an amused face.
"Hiding a lover from me, Glorfindel?" he asked jokingly, unperturbed by his friend's state of undress.
Chuckling uneasily, twin spots of colour gracing his cheeks, Glorfindel shook his head and discreetly kicked Idril's robe beneath his bed. "From you? Never!" he laughed, sliding a tunic over his head and breeches over his hips. "Now what on Arda is so important that you interrupted my beauty sleep?"
A snort sounded from the closet, spurring the elf lord into putting an arm around his friend and steering him out of the room, kicking the door shut behind them.
"Honestly, Glorfindel, you would think that you were hiding the princess in there!" Ecthelion said, rolling green eyes, completely oblivious to the look of terror that washed over his friend's face. "Though that would please Turgon to no end. I still do not know why you do not request his permission to court her. Eru knows you have spent enough time torturing yourself over it," he finished, eyes dark with concern.
The golden haired elf lord was well on his way to panic, a greenish tinge lighting his cheeks as he offered his friend a smile, "Idril does not see me in that light, Ecthelion," he said simply and with a shrug.
Ecthelion shook his head exasperatedly, not knowing that even as they spoke, the flaxen haired topic of their conversation was dressing and slipping out of the window in the bedroom. "I will never understand you, Glor," he said with amusement. "However, a mortal has been sighted entering the valley. A small party of guards has already ridden out, but His Majesty requests that we join them as soon as possible."
Raising an eyebrow with interest, Glorfindel nodded, pulling up his boots before reaching for a hair tie to tame his golden locks. "A man?" he asked again, just to be sure. His friend nodded and opened the door. The blonde lord spared a glance back at his bedroom door, hoping the princess had had ample time to escape, then followed Ecthelion into the sunlight.
He didn't see her again until that evening when they presented the mortal, Tuor Son of Huor. But then it was not his Idril, but the Princess Itarille, resplendent in ice blue silks and diamond coronet that twinkled in the light of the torches as she stood silently beside her imposing father. She was a vision of ethereal beauty and the fact escaped neither him nor the mortal beside him, if the look of awe upon Tuor's face was anything to judge.
"My lord," Glorfindel began with a bow to Turgon, "my lady," he graced the princess with a more gallant gesture that set her blue eyes alight with humour, "I present to you the Lord Tuor, Son of Huor, who comes to us with tidings from Ulmo himself."
Turgon examined the human with dark, impassive eyes, the commanding king leaving his daughter to step forward to speak in acknowledgement of the man. She inclined her head to him, speaking in silvery tones that echoed through the grand hall, "We welcome you to Ondolinde, Tuor Son of Huor, and we hope your stay is most pleasant."
Perhaps the elven city had been too imposing, or he was far too taken with the princess to think clearly, but the man could only nod dumbly, gray-green eyes wide and unblinking as they focused upon the blonde vision before him. Glorfindel hid a smile and placed a friendly hand upon his back, "It would, perhaps, be wise to bow," he advised him softly.
Tuor did as asked, albeit clumsily, then resumed his awed stare, feeling awkward and out of place in such grand company. The elf lord felt rather sorry for the likeable young man and had been ready to guide him out when he caught the look of pity in Idril's eyes.
He would recall later the almost palpable change in the air when she had stepped from the dais, friendly eyes twinkling once at him before focusing on the blonde mortal. His heart dropped into his stomach and Glorfindel felt suddenly, violently ill.
It wasn't until the princess had grasped Tuor's hand though that he truly felt awful, a pain stabbing through his heart with the thin edge of a razor as a look of shock crossed her pretty features and Itarille abruptly melted away, leaving only Idril in her place, the woman who needed not the accoutrements and grandeur of court that Itarille so easily wore.
The look of astonishment so quickly fled her face that Glorfindel was sure he was the only one to see it. He could not, however, discern her next words, his sense drowned out by the pounding of his own heart, sounding some doom-filled prophetic chorus that did little to settle his now tattered nerves.
"Come, my lord, let me show you to our guest quarters," Idril had said , voice gently coaxing and betraying not the nervous cacophony of her own heart.
Looking thoroughly enchanted, Tuor nodded, just barely managing to remember to offer her his arm, though he nearly stumbled at the stunning smile of thanks she sent his way. He was quite sure she was the most beautiful woman he had even seen, though that was a common reaction amongst mortals meeting their first Eldar. But his veins filled with liquid heat as she took his arm and he was suddenly hard pressed to keep the image of her without the courtly finery from his mind, two spots of colour burning brightly upon his cheekbones.
Idril wondered briefly at his embarrassment, but pushed the thought from her mind, needing full concentration to ignore the sudden desire to throw herself into Glorfindel's arms and never let go. The vice like clenching of her heart left her feeling mildly ill and only somewhat soothed by the pleasant warmth of the man's touch, though it paled in comparison to the raw, scalding heat of even just Glorfindel's gaze burning into her back. She blinked back tears as she let Tuor lead her through the door, mindlessly directing him as a child's laughter echoed through the empty hallways. A grey eyed boy, hair as dark as her father's, beamed up at her from the floor. He played for a moment, then rose to his feet and was joined by a mirror image of himself. They clasped hands and walked away from the couple, the first boy aging with each step, the second fading away until a grown man paused, then turned to look back at her. His eyes were the shattered windows of pain, but he smiled sadly, thankfully, at her and she could hear his voice, strong and wise, in her mind, "Thank you."
She choked back a sob, pressing her lips together as she showed her home to Tuor, then closed her eyes. "I'm sorry," she thought bleakly, heart splitting in two. But the break would mend and she walked on, hand on the arm of Tuor Son of Huor. Father of her children.
As the door clanged shut behind the duo, Glorfindel felt his own heart seize. The sound reverberated through his mind, as final as he knew the event to be. He mustered a smile and left through another door, his heart bleeding pain within. "I love you."