Glorfindel in Imladris
Chapter 6
The Hall of Memory
Glorfindel could tell how weary was the Lord of the Edain only by the fact that he did not rise in greeting as he had entered the study. His face was ageless and daunting, and his eyes far-seeing and grey as evening skies. He sat in a chair with his arms on the rests, and he appeared remote as though painted upon a canvas a thousand years old.
"Lord Elrond."
"Lord Glorfindel, forgive me for taking you away from the sunrise. I thought that you would be interested to see this," Elrond indicated the small table that was set before him, and a silver dish upon it. There upon a square of linen stained red with drying blood was a shard of cruel metal, about the size of an almond, pitted and jagged with corruption. Glorfindel stared at it in distaste.
As they watched, a wandering finger of sunlight reached down and slowly stroked the table, and as it touched upon the silver dish the evil knife-tip began to smolder and burn, and it consumed the metal and the stained cloth together.
"I found and removed that from our small guest this very evening. It was lodged deeply, and was near to reaching its goal. If he recovers and how well that wound mends, or if it ever truly does heal, only the Valar can say. I have done all that I can."
Glorfindel let out his pent breath, feeling that he had been holding it in for three days. He looked out of the window at the valley filled with light, and thanked the Valar for sparing Frodo's soul.
He heard Elrond rise from his seat. "For the deed you have done, I would grant you a gift, Glorfindel," and Glorfindel turned to see Elrond standing next to him. "But I foresee the thing you would ask, and it is beyond my granting. This must be decided in council."
"Rather too important, I think, to let fall to the vote of strange men," protested Glorfindel vehemently, surprising himself with his own anger. "It was left to the council of one man, once, long ago. He chose rather ill, I would say!"
"Isuldur chose nothing. He was chosen himself. He could no more have discarded the Ring than I could have tipped him into the Fire. Not even Círdan could do that, and you know he has no particular love for Men." Glorfindel and Elrond laughed together quietly at this joke, Ages old.
Elrond grew grave again, "Not even Fire and Air together could overcome the One. It did not save Gil-galad. The Elves have no strength left for leading war. We have only patience and wisdom gathered from the Ages."
"Patience you say? What use is wisdom when will is lacking? What use patience when only action serves? Your wisdom is great, Elrond. Greater than my own, I know. But even I see that there is none who has borne such a burden as well as Frodo Baggins. He is the vessel ordained. I will take him to where the thing can be undone, where it should have been undone three thousand years ago." Glorfindel watched Elrond's stony face as he said this, and became irritated at his silence. "Are you sure that you are not yet dead?" Glorfindel watched with a touch of triumph as colour appeared on Elrond's high cheeks. His eyes grew dark; a brewing storm.
Icily, Elrond spoke, "Praise to Iluvatar for the creation of the Noldor! They have defined vanity and stubbornness as great virtues!"
"And praise Him also for the making of the peredhil," retorted Glorfindel, the corners of his mouth flirting dangerously with a smile, "They grace the world with paralyzing foresight and ambivalence!"
Gandalf cleared his throat in the doorway, startling both Elves. He began to laugh quietly; his gaiety had returned with the morning son, relief lifting years from his weathered face. "I hate to interrupt your intellectual debate," the Wizard said, "but I have come to report that your patient has rallied, my lord. He woke briefly as the sun flooded his room, and in now resting easily." Gandalf then made a discreet retreat, closing the door behind him.
Glorfindel turned to Elrond and bowed. "Thank you, my lord Elrond. Your wisdom does indeed seem to have much use. Still, I ask that I be permitted to perform this task."
Elrond gripped Glorfindel's shoulder, saying, "You cannot take this thing upon yourself, Glorfindel. You will fail."
"It must be destroyed! Do you think I fear for my life? I would give it a dozen times to spare the halfling."
Elrond bowed his head, and his long hair dark as shadows swept his face. "This must be. Only in a joined venture can this ending be brought about. The Elves alone cannot accomplish this. And it remains to be seen who will become the Bearer."
Glorfindel looked at him with shock, noting again the weariness in Elrond's face. More than ceaseless nights of healing had aged the half-elf, and more that worry over the fate of the Ring darkened his thoughts. How could he not see that there was no other who could bear this thing? thought Glorfindel. What was it that blinded the seeing eyes of Elrond?
Elrond raised his twilight eyes to Glorfindel's morning blue, and he said without words all he feared and all he hoped. Glorfindel's heart closed at the eremitic emotion that he had witnessed, and he regretted provoking Elrond. He too felt sometimes that the task was nearly impossible, but ever the despair only succeeded in him to harden his resolve to fight.
Elrond spoke, and his voice was again reserved and even, "Come to the council tomorrow, Glorfindel. I value your thoughts and would have you present. Come also tonight, for I will order a feast to celebrate the recovery of Frodo Baggins. We must rejoice for the gifts we receive, though within we weep for the losses we face."
⌂
The feast was a splendid event, and the celebrants toasted the health of Frodo Baggins many times. Glorfindel watched him from his seat next to Elrond and he seemed hearty and hale, though he was still painfully thin and pale. He was working hard to remedy that, eating well and laughing while talking to Gloín of Erebor. Glorfindel raised his glass to him, and Frodo smiled in return, managing to rise and bow without scattering his cushions again. Glorfindel ate well also, borrowing on the appetite of the halflings, whose joy and relief infected the whole hall. When all had departed to join in singing and tale-telling, Glorfindel remained in his seat, still pondering Elrond's words.
Leaving the Hall of Fire to the revelers, Glorfindel made his way down the Falls Stairs, where water trickled softly over the terraced stones. He wandered through the Halls of Memory, where frescoes and articles were displayed with respect, heralding the past and foreshadowing what is to come. He walked past Estel reading in a chair, so intent on his text that he did not hear Glorfindel's light step, or it may be that he was in his mind far away and the music and laugher from the Hall of Fire had lulled him to wakeful dreams. Glorfindel purposely did not disturb him, for he knew for whom the man waited.
He sensed the presence of another Man in the hall and in curiosity he backed into a hanging tapestry, blending himself with the shadows to be unseen. The man walked slowly, unfamiliar or perhaps uncomfortable with his surroundings. He was walking toward the music; a visitor unheralded wandering into an elvish festival. Glorfindel smiled wryly. Time did ever repeat itself in unpredictable ways.
Glorfindel's laughter died before it reached his lips when he saw the face of this man. Many years and mother's blood had changed the faces of the heirs of Anárion, but Glorfindel saw clearly that mark and bearing of the son of Elendil, the fair-haired son of the South. He watched as he neared where Estel sat reading, and saw that his eyes did track this stranger, and note his bearing and nobility. To Glorfindel, he saw again Isuldur and Anárion, meeting again around a gulf of time unimaginable to men.
The elf watched as the tableau unfolded, and remained until after Evenstar had met her lover and they had left to walk the gardens in privacy. Long did he remain, dwelling on his thoughts and walking in memories of ash and fire.