Chapter Nine

Artanis did not stay. Her curiosity sated, she and her husband returned to Eregion promptly, with the promise that they would receive a visit from Elrond in the spring. It was not quite an easy peace that seemed to lie across Eriador, but it was more peaceful than any in the wider world Glorfindel had ever known.

Day by day his strength returned to him, his surety when he placed his feet made him quick and he surpassed his opponent with increasing regularity. For nearly two months he was not deemed able to accompany the patrols, a decision he accepted eagerly for it was one thing besting another elf on the training field, another to come up against orcs in the mountains. He had not seen orcs since his death, yet in his dreams he never saw them. Only the fire. He had not dealt with those dreams, each night he woke although he had gotten past the need to walk out to the river on all but the hardest of nights.

The morning of his first patrol brought a feeling of dread with it. He dressed in the armour Maethor had given him, the familiarity of metal plate and scales the other side of the linen padding reassured him slightly.

"Is it not hard?" Hesten, his sparring partner asked. "To follow rather than lead?" The formality had gone quickly between them and they stood together in the courtyard as they waited for Maethor.

"It is preferable," he answered with a thin smile. "The responsibility wears you down. Stop me if I do presume, however." He had answered to Turgon but it would be the first patrol when he was not giving orders.

They rode out, splitting into pairs as they each took the path assigned to them. Hesten led him south, out of the valley and into the foothills. They passed the guard posts that in a week's time the rota would have them filling.

"Many would think themselves well defended with just the valley walls," he said after a while. Hesten shrugged.

"Perhaps we are over cautious. There is an enemy in these lands. Imladris was founded by those who escaped a failed campaign into Eriador, we are a little skittish." The defences were reassuring. Elrond would not repeat his great grandfather's mistake. "Say what you will, Maethor will not hear of it from me."

"Your rotas make little sense. For now you have the numbers to make them work, but what will happen when you no longer have so many to call upon?"

"You have found the long standing feud between Maethor and the Chief Advisor. The allocation of shifts and patrol duties formally come under Maethor's control, yet their apparent inefficiency irks Lord Erestor."

"As seneschal Maethor should not even be responsible for the guard."

"His predecessor was charged with building Imladris and the protective boundaries fell within that. He perished on patrol and his Captain was promoted to his place. Therefore the exact division of duties between Maethor and Lord Erestor is a contested grey area." The thought amused him somewhat. Erestor could argue, even in Gondolin when he had no power to make his voice heard and Glorfindel had watched him with a wry smile from the side lines.

"Intriguing. I did not expect politics in so small a place." Hesten laughed at that.

"Not politics, that is for the Lindon court rather, or Greenwood. I would say rather, personal disagreements." He raised an eyebrow at that. "As advisor, Erestor naturally has Elrond's ear, he came as the commander of the troops from Harlindon. Before Imladris was founded he was the chief counsellor to the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Maethor was raised from the ranks of the Sindar elves that remained behind when Oropher migrated to the Greenwood. He has no love for one born to power such as Erestor."

"Born to power?" That was hard to swallow and Glorfindel almost laughed. "Erestor was not born to anything except a house with too many younger branches in a city with too few positions."

"I do not understand. He came with the Lady Galadriel, he is of the house of Finarfin, one of her people." Then Glorfindel did laugh in astonishment.

"I did not have him marked as a liar. He tells this tale?" He would have thought Erestor loyal enough to Ecthelion and Turgon to tell the truth of his heritage, even if speaking of Gondolin was painful.

"I have not heard it from his own mouth, but it is widely known. It came as a shock to us all to discover that Isowen, Lady Isowen I suppose, was your sister." Isowen had not said a word either. Glorfindel allowed himself a moment to marvel at how different his sister was from their mother, it took strength to swallow her pride in such a way, unless she was ashamed of her family.

"She is no Lady for I am no Lord, we are all that remains of our House. Still, Erestor was part of Fingolfin's host, although all who first followed Finarfin later followed his brother. Of the House of the Fountain under Ecthelion he comes, and I always believed him proud of it. What has come to pass that none wish to remember the Lords of Gondolin?"

"I cannot answer that. Only that he now answers to the son of Eärendil and I have not heard any mention of Gondolin. But then I am not one of those he takes into confidence. If you will not ask him, ask Nairn or Isowen, for they are his companions when Elrond has no need of him." Isowen, of course, his would be sister. Glorfindel could almost see the new lives and names they had forged for themselves, as if to leave Gondolin behind them. That they would wipe away their city, and the sacrifice that had been made in an attempt to save it turned his stomach.

"Is Gondolin remembered?" he asked Hesten quietly as they turned down the path to circle back.

"By many. It was the last realm of Beleriand to fall. There are lays, many in fact." Suddenly there was a smirk on his face. "You have yet to hear it, have you not?"

"Hear what?"

"Your deeds passed into myth. Few can claim to have slain a balrog. The last hero of Gondolin, there is one particularly long and well written lay. Perhaps if you listen, someone will sing it in the Hall of Fire." Glorfindel kept his gaze on the trees around them. He would rather not listen to a romanticised version of his own death. Gondolin's fall felt a long time ago, yet he could not quite imagine that it was not still out there and he could simply ride through the mountains until he found it. "Or you may hear the battle of Ecthelion. It is not as well known." Listening to Hesten he realised that Gondolin, indeed all the events of their flight to Middle Earth and the wars there, were little more than myths to the elves of Eriador who had not seen Beleriand. Heroes of an age gone by, Galadriel and Círdan the only reminders.

"Are there any other survivors?"

"I am not sure. Lord Tuor and Lady Idril are the ones the poets speak of, but they have passed now. I was not aware that Lord Erestor and Isowen hailed from Gondolin, therefore I cannot say how many more may be hiding." Hiding from what? Glorfindel wished to ask. The Enemy was vanquished, replaced only by his onetime servant. There was little danger to those who came from Turgon's city.

He spoke little for the remainder of the patrol, staring out at the cliffs and woods in search of dangers as Hesten checked for disturbances to the path he knew well. It was nearing evening when they regrouped and rode back down into the valley, with no signs of enemies.

"My Lady?" Glorfindel called as he passed Nairn on his way to the Hall of Fire. He did not wish to listen to the ballads, he had seen the story first hand, but his curiosity and the tinge of anger at Erestor and Isowen's denial of their past sent him there to look for answers. He was too formal to her, he noted and she blushed slightly in an awkward half curtsey. "May I take a moment of your time?"

"Of course," she answered, her voice rising in pitch as she tried to settle her nerves. On his part he offered her a warm smile. Respect towards a lord only went so far, her shyness served as a reminder that he had done the impossible and did not fit in seamlessly with the elves of Middle Earth.

"You are close friends with Erestor, I am told." Putting a title in front of his name felt too strange to say. Ecthelion was the lord, proud and boisterous, Erestor the cousin who stood in the shadows and rolled his eyes before delivering the scathing remarks that went largely unheard. Nairn nodded. "Do you know from whence he came, and what path led him to be Elrond's advisor here?"

"He was one of the Lady Galadriel's advisors, she bade him come and aid Elrond when we campaigned in Eriador. Before that he was one of her followers from Beleriand. Why do you ask, my Lord? It is his own tale, although he does not speak of himself as much as some."

"We met before, I was merely curious as to what had become of him. My thanks, Nairn." He let her pass, smiling politely. He had mellowed somewhat as it became apparent that rather than lying outright, Erestor had merely been economical with the details. Glorfindel had yet to work out why. He did not, however, think that he ought to confront him directly. Instead he sought his sister out, steering her away from the hearth gently.

"No one knew who you were, or where you and Erestor came from. Why is this?" Perhaps he should have used more tact, yet he still half saw the child who needed direct questions framed in simple words.

"He does not like to bring it up. Not now Egalmoth and Idril are gone. Why does it matter, Glor? I wanted to speak of it but he stopped talking of Gondolin when he found that he was the only survivor of his House." Glorfindel nodded slowly. He had not yet worked out how to miss Gondolin, Erestor clearly had found a way to cope.

"Then I am naught but a reminder." He had guessed as much, that Erestor did not wish to speak with him and remember their parting.

"You are not unwanted!" Isowen hugged him gently. "It will take time, that is all. How was your patrol?" He smiled and gave in to her menial questioning.