There was only so much of the newlyweds' happiness that Glorfindel could take and as such, he found himself riding out of the Hidden Valley with a pack big enough to last him over a month outside of its boundaries. Seeing the love in cerulean eyes that had once shown for him had driven him to visit an old friend and seek solace in her company, not for any romantic reason, but because she of all people knew how he felt.
It felt to him sooner rather than later that he rode into the lands of Doriath, a marchwarden accompanying the Vanyarin lord to Halls of Thingol where his quarry resided. He was duly announced and after trading royal niceties with the King and his wife, Melian, was allowed to seek her out.
She was seated beside a delicately crafted fountain, an elegant hand trailing through the water as she stared off into the distance.
"Welcome to Doriath," she murmured absently and without turning to face him as he entered the small courtyard.
"Hello Artanis," Glorfindel replied equally as softly, venturing forward to join her on the stone bench, mindlessly brushing aside the white cloth of her robe to make room for his body. He was barely able to withhold his flinch as she raised glittering pale blue eyes to his face, eyes set in a face that was reminiscent enough of the one sought to avoid that a pain lanced through his heart.
"My Cousin has married the human and found a happiness," the elven woman said simply, examining his face with her intense eyes. He nodded, unable to do much more than murmur in a pained voice, "I still love her. Valar, but it hurts, Artanis. I do not know what to do."
She smiled sadly and brushed her fingers over his cheek, the touch faintly lingering with her pity. "Your paths have never been your own, Glorfindel. The Valar have had their hands on you since her birth, at the very least."
They sat silently then, enjoying each other's company in the quiet of the garden, the only sound the gentle splashing of the fountain beside them.
The solace did him good and provided ample opportunity to calm his raging heart and distract him from the thoughts that sought to plague him. It wasn't long, however, before Artanis, as golden and wise-eyed as ever, had laid a hand on his shoulder, her blue eyes searching his own as she spoke.
"It is past time for you to return, Glorfindel," she said calmly; though she shared the colouring of her cousin, she used not any nicknames for those around her and his heart ached at the thought that he would no longer hear any endearments from the line of Finwe.
"I know," he sighed, turning away from her pressing gaze to look at his feet. The heavy weight of her palm on his shoulder though spurred him into movement and he mechanically packed his bags until he was prepared to return to the city.
The elf lord had mounted his horse when a familiar hand reached up, grasping his own in a vise-like grip.
"Do you love her, Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flowers?" The voice was haunting and not entirely her own.
He stared down at her, confusion bleeding swiftly from his lapis eyes. This was important. He knew. "I do," he whispered, staring at her intensely.
"Would you die for her?"
"In a heartbeat," he answered without hesitation, the woman in front of him melting into softer curves, brighter hair, and darker eyes…skin more honeyed with life and a smile that burned into his bones.
"The time will come when you will be called upon to do just such a thing, my friend," the ethereality of her tone had been swept away by friendly concern and she gave his hand a tight squeeze as a single tear slipped from her eyes.
She had to have given his horse a signal because as she stepped away, his mount sprang into a gallop, leaving behind the city of Doriath in a cascade of dust. He was going home.