Chapter Fourteen

He had changed, finding a green tunic and grey leggings that had been in a pile on the side of the room untouched by the flames. He did not feel too much regret at the things that were ruined, for the most part only his possessions for a few months. His sword was unharmed, as were the clothes from the ship and in one pocket, the tiny seed that he hoped had not been damaged by smoke.

"Are you alright?" Isowen asked, knocking gently on his door. She sat on his bed, smiling sadly at the ashen covers.

"I think so," he answered. He was tired, still shaking and nervous in the room where he still smelt fire. "I cannot tell."

"Fear, Glorfindel, perhaps you have not encountered that here yet?"

"Perhaps." He had felt fear too often, every night in the darkness and now in the light as he looked at the stained walls.

"Glorfindel?" Gently she slipped an arm around him and hugged him. "Elrond will punish those who did this, Imladris is a safe home for us." Still it haunted him, that fire could find him in Elrond's haven.

"Who is this Harelian?" he asked Isowen quietly as he laced his boots. "Why does she mean me harm? If it was her who lit the flames."

"I do not know, but Erestor will find out why." Her trust at once made him smile and thrust a dagger in his chest. She had no trust in him, he was still an estranged creature to her, some weak albino foal to be cared for. It was Erestor she trusted to make her problems go away, to be her brother.

"Then they will know wrath," Isowen added with venom. "Come, if you wish, Elrond will tell us what is become of them." He followed her out of the room and down the hall, the walls gradually getting less and less fire damaged until they were past the abandoned chair Hesten no longer guarded.

Erestor met them as they reached Elrond's council chambers, a large volume in his hands.

"Elrond wishes for it all to be over at once," he said, nodding to the book. "He bade me act as lawyer."

"Let us get this over with, then," Isowen murmured and entered the chamber. Elrond and Gilotor were sat at the table, Maethor standing guard by the two chairs occupied by a dark haired Ellon and a blonde elleth. Erestor took his place at Elrond's side, offering Glorfindel a chair. He preferred to stand ready, facing the two elves from across the room. Isowen stood next to him, whether for comfort or to protect him from the barely contained malice in the elleth's eyes.

"Harelian and Erchamel. The fire last night was found to have started in your chambers. It was no accident. We would hear what you have to say on this," Elrond said slowly, his tone calm.

"The only accident is that he is still breathing," the elleth spat. Glorfindel stared her down, he had faced worse than a hate filled glare. A blank face slipped onto his features, he refused to let himself seem shaken or upset. He managed to get a grip on his emotions enough to stand still and face them both down.

"Then you do not deny deliberately setting the fire?" asked Erestor.

"I do not."

"And you, Erchamel?" Elrond turned to her husband.

"Of this I had no part," he answered with a dull, almost placid voice. His dark eyes never left the spot they stated at on the table, his shoulders almost hunched over.

"Tell us of your quarrel with Glorfindel," said Elrond. "Then we will make our judgement."

"You give shelter to a murderer, to one of the old sinners of Alqualondë. The realms of the Noldor burnt once, so they shall again." Next to him he felt Isowen stiffen in anger. "It is unnatural. No good can come from having a spectre such as that here." Glorfindel did not take a liking to being called a spectre, yet doubts took root. Elrond and Erestor had made him welcome, Maethor had warmed to him yet this sentiment was there. It surprised him, and it pained him.

Elrond was silent for a while before looking first at Erestor who nodded, then Gilotor. The advisor took his time in answering. Eventually, though, Gilotor too nodded.

"Harelian, by the laws of this land we sentence you to two centuries of exile for arson and attempted murder." Elrond sighed, hesitating. "However, we are loath to part you from your family. Therefore although you are exiled from Imladris we will not extend that to the King's lands." Harelian's face was strained but she nodded slowly.

"You may leave if you wish, Erchamel, but your place here is assured. Maethor." Harelian stood without being made to, Erchamel following suit. They were led out, past Isowen who gave them both a state that could pierce walls with shards of ice.

Glorfindel turned at once to the three lords at the table.

"I was not aware my presence caused upset," he said quietly. "You had but to say, my lords." Elrond put up his hand to stop him but it was Gilotor who spoke.

"I can assure you, no others share her views. Even Erchamel does not." It rested uneasily within him, that he could elicit such hate from Elrond's folk. Alqualondë was not too far at the back of his mind, it could never be forgotten.

"Harelian remembers the sacking of Sirion," Erestor murmured.

"Which does not excuse her actions," said Elrond as he stood up. "All those in Imladris are under the protection of the King's laws and they must be upheld." Elrond crossed to the wide doors looking out onto an empty courtyard garden, a pleasant sight and private for the other rooms leading onto it we're unused meeting chambers as well. "Do not offer to leave, Glorfindel," Eärendil's son told him. "If Imladris cannot be a refuge from those who have no other home, then it does not do its duty. I just see her leave. Erestor."

They left, closing the door behind them to leave Gilotor to close and collect the law books on the table.

"You must not think yourself hated here," he said with his back to them. "Some cannot let go of the past."

"As well we know," answered Isowen coldly.

"For good reason did Erestor bid you hide your name. It is too late now. I promise you, Isowen, Harelian alone remembers."

"As do I." It was his mother speaking in the guise of her daughter's voice, the same steel that made Glorfindel blink. She swept out in one fluid movement.

"I will find you another room," Gilotor said. "It is no fitting welcome for one such as you."