Chapter 43

Thinking Of You

"The Elven-guard is ready to depart," Celairis announced in a business-like tone. She could not tell if the King on his throne was listening to her. His mind seemed to be wandering, his eyes gazing lazily outside. Snow fell profusely from the skies, and the Silvan folk were shut in their houses. The dark counselor stepped forward until she reached the bottom of the steps, looking up to her occupied King.

"My Lord," she said louder, now earning his attention. "The Elven-guard is ready to depart. Do you have any final orders for them?"

Thranduil shook his head and suppressed a yawn. Truly, winter was such a boring season. He gestured for her to leave. "I have none," he said. "Except that they return here before spring breaks. We cannot have the outpost unattended for long."

"No words for Lord Elrond?" She urged.

His eyes narrowed at once. "Do not make me repeat myself," the King said sternly.

Celairis bowed and went off to deliver the King's orders to the eager to depart Elven-guard.

"Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!

You restless wall of flame.

Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!

Your fury to never tame."

Erynlith stopped short from the song she was singing. It was supposed to be a cheerful song, but it ended up darker as it went by. She looked at her friend worriedly. But Glorfindel laughed it off and shifted from his position. They were in Erynlith's room for a change. The hearth blazed strongly in front of them, for winter sure was heavy in that time of the year. They were curled up on the couch; the golden elf laid his head on her lap as her fingers absent-mindedly comb through them.

"Don't mind me," Glorfindel said, snuggling closer. "I like the song."

She smiled. "Your hair is so smooth and silky. Makes me jealous…" She twirled a lock between her fingers, pulling it lightly.

He looked up to her. "Your dark hair suits you," he said. "I like it."

"You like everything, tra-la," she retorted, and the elf on her lap chuckled. "With your hair this short, you cannot braid it any more…"

"Actually, you can." He slipped from the couch and sat between her legs, back turned against her. "Try braiding mine," he coaxed, his blue eyes glimmering in the fire.

"I don't braid hairs," Erynlith said. "I only do mine and it is not even that presentable, tra-lo."

"You can do it," he urged. "If you can dance, then you can also braid my hair, tra-la-lay."

"Oh, this elf…" She groaned and began to braid the golden hair that cascaded a little past his shoulders. Glorfindel had always kept it combed back neatly, something the other elves were amazed of. She worked her way through the silky tresses, silently admiring and envious. Beneath her, Glorfindel was smiling happily like an elfling, sitting cross-legged as the fire warmed them both. He felt light tugging on his scalp, not enough to hurt but enough to make him jerk. He laughed quietly and spoke no word thereafter.

"There we go." Erynlith sighed and collapsed on the couch, trying to admire her work. It was a simple braid similar to what Elrond usually had: a small braided strand on each side of the ears and another larger strand from the middle of the head down to the back. She watched as Glorfindel reached out and felt for his head, and then he smiled appreciatively.

"Good work," he remarked and sat again beside her.

She glared at him. "If I can braid a hair, you can play a lute," she challenged.

Glorfindel was never the one for music, let alone musical instruments. He deemed his hands were too big, heavy, and rough for playing instruments, especially string instruments. He learned the basics of playing a flute in his youth, but never excelled in it. He was convinced that his hands were only for handling swords and knives. But as the proud elf that he was, he would not back down. If his friend endured the horror of dancing and braiding his hair, then how bad could playing instruments be? He offered her a sly smile, an answer to her challenge, and she smiled at him in return.

From the courtyard, they heard the Elven-horn sounding.

Quickly, Erynlith bolted from the couch, taking Glorfindel's hand in hers, and they broke into a run. He allowed himself being swept away from his feet, careful not to hit anyone as they passed other elves that were curious. Tonight, Yule would take place. And he was excited. Elrond and Erestor were done for tonight's preparation; Erynlith helped Celebrían and Arwen in designing the Halls of Fire; Elladan and Elrohir helped prepare the desserts for tonight's celebration. As he and his friend continued to push their way, Erestor appeared before them, pressing an index finger on his lips: an indication of silence.

At the head of the crowd, Elrond greeted the newcomers in Sindarin, and someone burst out in enthusiastic greetings and formalities. The elves beside them whispered amongst each other: on how these elves were not from around those parts. Erynlith removed her hold from Glorfindel's hand and squinted closer until she could see the green banner that was held aloft. There was no mistaking that banner, the heraldic device of tree and leaves were so painfully familiar.

Greenwood.

Her heart pounded in excitement as she pushed away the elves in front of her, while Erestor tried to keep her still. But it was too late; his hand was shrugged and he slumped back with Glorfindel; the golden elf looking at the counselor curiously. His eyes wandered back to the now-running Erynlith, who seemed to have recognized the captain of the host and threw her arms around his neck.

"Raithon!" She exclaimed in full joy as the Sindarin captain laughed and spun her around.

"Erfaron!" He embraced her tightly. His dark eyes began observing her. "Look at you! You are more beautiful than the evening!" He laughed and continued: "We missed you so much in Greenwood!"

She grinned and looked around. She did not know some of the elves, though there were those who knew her smiled wider and greeted her in their Silvan dialect. It was surprising for them to remember her after full thousand years.

Again, she looked around, searching for the familiar pale golden head that she missed so. Gradually, she frowned and gave Raithon a confused look. Wistfully, the dark-haired captain shook his head and whispered, "He did not come."

"Oh," came her disappointed voice.

Soon, Elrond and Erestor were upon Greenwood's Elven-guard, with Erynlith slowly sinking behind the crowd. She imagined how assuming she must have looked in front of Raithon. How foolish and stupid of her to assume! She blinked back tears of frustration, and she felt her knees weakening. She would have fallen there on the spot if not for the powerful yet gentle hands that caught her. She looked up, her grey eyes shining with the upcoming tears; and Glorfindel was looking down at her, carefully settling her on the cold staircase. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his red scarf he offered to her. Elves do not get cold like Men do; it was only that Gildor made those scarves as gifts. Erynlith rested her head against his chest, breathing heavily and fighting back sobs. The feeling was strange, but it urged her to weep, and she did not even know why she wanted to cry.

Even Glorfindel did not understand why she was acting like that. Did the newly-arrived captain said something terrible to her? He could not fathom what. All he wanted was his friend to feel better.

He sat quietly beside her for the rest of the evening. Both took seats in the corner of the festive Halls of Fire. He watched and listened as Lindir played several instruments, the passing of each elf to and fro, the clinking of the wine glass and plates as Elladan and Elrohir led the assault on the long dining table. And, of course, there was laughter. But his friend did not take part in it. He tore his gaze away from the happy elves to the rather somber one on his left. Erynlith rarely spoke ever since Raithon—as Elrond introduced the two captains earlier—arrived. She did not touch her plate, and he chuckled inwardly, knowing well her aversion for vegetables. Absentmindedly, he placed his hand on her knee, the coldness of his palm flinching her.

"Please do not frown," Glorfindel said, scooting closer so that his face was few inches away from hers. "Tonight is Yule, is it not? You said Yule is a very wonderful event, that I should adore it and enjoy it as much as you do. Smile for me tonight, Erynlith. That should make my first Yule memorable."

She forced a smile and squeezed the hand on her knee. "I am very sorry, Glorfindel. I was thinking too much."

"About what?" He couldn't help but he intrigued. Never did she mention anything about her relationship in Greenwood. He did not even know that she was called Erfaron until Raithon mentioned it.

"Nothing really." She shrugged and offered him the glass of wine. "Gildor wants me to drink it. Don't tell him I gave it to you."

Glorfindel laughed and drank the wine in one sitting. "Is your challenge still open? I would like to challenge myself as well."

Before Erynlith had the chance to answer, Raithon walked up to them, a glass of wine in his hand. Instantly, Glorfindel drew his hands back and let the Sindarin captain excuse his friend for a while. She spared Glorfindel a small smile, and then disappeared outside the Halls. As soon as she had left, Glorfindel was quickly flocked by the maidens who relentlessly offered him food and drink. He tried to decline them one by one, but in the end, he accepted them all and tried to drown himself with too much attention.

"Lord Glorfindel, would you like to have more wine?" The golden elf recognized this maiden; she was Firianath, the one he danced with during Aduial en Meleth. He was surprised that he actually remembered her.

She had the dark hair of her Imladris kin, brown eyes and an expressive, youthful face. She was young, Glorfindel guessed, as she held out another wine glass to him. Her skin was pale, her cheekbones prominent, hollowing her cheeks even more. She smiled when Glorfindel took the glass from her and sipped lightly from it; and her smile became wider when he spoke to her.

"Firianath, is it not?" He asked cordially as his attention was swayed by the other maidens who flocked him.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, my Lord! Do you want something to accompany that wine? Or would rather have—"

"I am well," Glorfindel politely interjected. "You should enjoy Yule as it is, my lady. Please, go along with your other friends."

"I have nothing else to do," she said, still entranced at the sight of the handsome elf in front of her. "May I accompany you for the rest of the night, Lord Glorfindel?" She loved mentioning his name out loud.

There was nothing else he could do but nod quietly.

Raithon did not speak until he was sure he and Erynlith were far enough from the eyes and ears of others. They stood at the end of a dark hallway. The captain briefly shrugged and huddled his thick traveling robes closer.

"Santien sends her regards," he began, slightly laughing. Damn, she missed this Elven-guard captain! "Actually, there are many others who wanted to give you their warmest greetings. Amardís and the other attendants, Santien and the healers, and some of the counselors and folks that that were left behind. Haldamir and his wife have a newly-born elfling in their home. Everyone is so excited to know that the Elven-guard was departing for Imladris, especially after a thousand years. King Amroth has visited Greenwood recently, and he is glad to know that we are leaving."

At once, Erynlith longed to see Greenwood. Over the seven years of her stay, she had made so many good friends, all who still remembered her now. She missed the dense woodland, the streams, and the flowers that grew there. She missed being in the palace, to converse with some of the counselors in the afternoon, to talk with King Oropher and—

Remembering what had happened, she quickly became as somber as before. She cast her eyes to the ground before her feet, trying to understand what she was supposed to feel.

Sighing, she asked, "What of Thranduil?"

Raithon shook his head. "The Elvenking is far too busy." He would not dare to mention Thranduil's affair with Celairis. "But he left something for you, something important, I guess." He pulled out a thick white envelope from his jerkin pocket and handed it to her.

The envelope was rather large and thick. Whatever its contents were, Erynlith wanted to find out soon. She took her time examining the envelope, but there were no words written on it, not even the name of its sender. She thanked Raithon quietly and sent her regards to the other Silvan folk. The Elven-guard would not stay in Imladris for too long; their orders were to simply hear news from Elrond. When Raithon returned to the Halls of Fire, she quickly ran back into her room.

Glorfindel looked at the captain expectantly when he re-entered the Halls. Blue eyes searched for his friend, but she was not there accompanying Raithon. Abruptly, he stood up, not caring if crumbs of cake fell from his lap. He exited and ran down the long hallways, determined to see where she was.

Erynlith fought against the strong urge to rip the envelope open. Instead, she ran her fingers on the top fold, knowing that Thranduil had touched it also. The absence of his name ticked her, but she gave it no heed any more. She pried the lid open, peeking at the contents. She laid it all out on her bed, countless rough papers. Some were wrinkled too much, the others almost torn from its old age. One by one, she examined the papers. There were no letters, an only sketch of things that were painfully familiar to her—sketches of two white daggers, family of foxes, forest clearing and river bank, meadow of pencil-colored bluebells, fortress, her pennant, a crown of flowers, and lastly, a foliage of leaves. She remembered them all, how they came to be, and the story of each keepsake.

Tears began to flow freely from her eyes, gently touching the last sketch. She bit her lip to stop herself, but it did not help. For thousands of years, she kept her yearning for him a secret: always denying it in front of Elrond and Erestor—because Erestor would stop her from mentioning Thranduil and because nobody understood what it felt, and thought it was all just a stupid infatuation. Thus, she forced her attention to other things: the growing up of Elrond's children, her travels with Gildor, and now, on Glorfindel's recovery. Her time in Greenwood was now like a figment in her mind.

Then, slipping from the foliage sketch, there was a small piece of paper. Its handwriting was elegant and elaborate, written in a silver ink on a brown paper. It only said the words:

"Thinking of you."

Three words that were enough to make her collapse on the bed and cry harder. She missed him terribly. She wanted to throw herself to Elrond and plead her return to Greenwood. But was it possible? Was it possible for her to leave Erestor and Glorfindel behind? Both elves needed her, especially the warrior. He had yet to recover from the fires of his nightmares.

And she continued to cry, tears drenching her blankets as she was curled on among his sketches. Why did Thranduil send them? Did he not want those anymore? She did not realize how much it hurt for missing him until now. An elf's immortal life surely was a flaw.

"Thranduil…" Erynlith whispered his name, savoring the sound. She missed saying his name. "Thranduil…"

Glorfindel decided not to knock on her door any more. His heart slowly broke as he listened to her cries and whimpers, to the name that she constantly whispered. He did not know who Thranduil was, or whose son and family line he belonged to. Perhaps he was someone influential and important, someone dearly loved by his friend.

Unable to endure her cries any more, Glorfindel turned his heels and left in dismay. He would have wanted to hold her like how she did to him, to rock her as if she was en elfling in his arms, to whisper sweet words of encouragement in her ears.

But no. He would find out first who that elf was—that one elf who made her cry despite not being there personally.

Thranduil.

Next Chapter: More Raithon and Erynlith, I guess?

Author's Notes: I did it! Guys, I did it! I updated as early as I could! For that, I'm going to give out lots and lots of cakes! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ *throws sparkles all around*

Now then, after a thousand years without contact, Eryn doesn't know what to feel, which is kind of hard to write/portray. It's like she is torn between wanting to go and see Thrandy, but also worries about Glorfindel (Glorfy cannot come with her in Greenwood because of captain duties). Erestor, on the other hand, well... things often go crazy whenever our good big brother Erestor gets involved.

*Rousdower - I am imagining Glorfy with short hair and he still looks fabulous to me! Thank you for the revieeewww~!

*Zip001 - You're very observant; I like you! XD Yes, Erestor has come from the protective brother to the overprotective and super clingy brother. I think it comes from his past experience: he failed to protect Eryn's parents from an ambush, so, in return, he likes the idea that he is the one protecting her now. He loves the idea that she's relying on him, but fails to see that he has turned out to be quite controlling and suffocating. He refuses to admit that Eryn is swaying away from him (because of her closeness to Glorfindel), which is why he retaliates to Glorfindel himself, not to her.

Thranduil went a long road from a prince to an Elvenking, so I am not yet sure how he will influence Eryn now. I'd say both of them are just yearning for someone, but yes—it's not "soul mate" love any more. But because Thrandy needs to get back into the shipping game. LOL.

Thank you very much for the awesome review!

*only-one-mirkwood-princess - Awww, I missed you too! In fact, I missed everyone! Erestor will be our jealous big brother! Jajaja no te preocupes, gracias!

*Asmodeus Black - Thank you, Black! I hope we do get some Thrandy spotlight soon!

*SparklesJustReads - Aren't we all suckers for Legolas? LOL. I would love to write about chubby baby Legolas! *squeals*

*Rosiethehobbit17 - Yes, Glorfy has Eryn (so does that mean Thrandy can stick with Celairis?) LOL, just kidding! Thank you for the revieeeew~!

*bettsam0731 - Don't worry! I am already sorting out how Leggles would fit into the story, so hold on to your seat! :)

*May - It sounds sweet when you say that Glorfindel really needs her. I am 100% sure they will make a good pair because they get along so well, but wouldn't the Eryn-Thrandy pair would be a little more adventurous (like the good old times)?

*Eirithdiel - Glorfindel/Eryn forever? LOL. I might make a separate ending where they get together, but it'll still take a long time. Plus, Glorfy with a new haircut and I imagine he will still look good no matter what. But the golden locks—noooooo!

*StarofSea- In one corner, we have the Balrog-slayer and in the other is the cold Elvenking of Mirkwood—let the Hunger Games begin! *whispers* Between you and I, I would also like to have Glorfindel for myself. He's such a big sweetheart.

LOL I love your theory. I would somehow make it happen? We'll see.

P.S. Thank you for all the reviews! I love you guys a lot! See you all in the next update! 〜٩(^▿^)۶〜