Chapter 47

To Lórinand

The first millennium of the Third Age had gone by.

Glorfindel's first three hundred years were not so bad at all—his life continued as it was, and he was grateful that the nightmares had not returned that often. He was able to be more confident and slip into his own reverie without asking for someone's company. The forces of Rivendell prospered under his strict supervision, and Elrond prided himself for having such an excellent captain.

Every once in a few decades, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn would arrive to visit their daughter and grandchildren; Celebrían knew her parents were fond of her children. And when their visit was over, the two High Elves would return either to Lindon or to Lórinand where they were always welcomed by the King. In those years as well, Olórin began to travel abroad Middle-earth. His travels made him famous in the lands, now going by the name of Mithrandir among the elves. He would often visit his companions, preferably the White one called Saruman, in Minas Tirith.

One summer evening, the family was eating dinner when one of the scouts arrived. It was Glorfindel who stood up and attended to his scout, talking with him in a hushed voice. Then, speaking rapidly in Elvish, the scout pulled out a letter from the folds of his tunic.

"Hannon le." Glorfindel patted him on the shoulder and jogged back to the dining halls.

Erestor narrowed his eyes at once. "What was that all about, Lord Captain?"

Unable to save himself from the clutches of the sharp counsellor, Glorfindel sighed in defeat and waved the letter so everyone in the table would see.

"A message from Lórinand," he announced, sliding the letter towards Erynlith. "King Amroth asks for your attendance, Eryn."

"For what?" Erestor snapped, detesting that the letter did not come through him first.

"Must be something personal," Elrond interjected. "You are excused for dinner, Eryn. Go ahead."

Erynlith grinned and went out of the halls, holding the letter close to her heart.

In the morning that followed, the Chief Counselor rose earlier than usual. He fixed the bed, neatly folded the blankets and tucked the pillows near the headboard, brushed and plaited his long dark hair, and finally, donned his robes that were always a shade of black, grey, or very dark blue. When he was finished, he sighed heavily, watching as his chest rise and fall at the movement. Again, he breathed, now keeping his grey eyes locked upon his reflection in the mirror. As much as he hated to admit what was to happen today, Erestor had failed to keep Erynlith from leaving.

Today, as Elrond predicted that weather would be nice, Erynlith was bound to Lórinand, as what King Amroth requested in his letter. She had been excited and somehow worried last night, though she did sprint back towards her chamber to pack her things. Erestor, feeling a familiar instinct to watch over her, had initially refused.

"You cannot keep her here all the time," Elrond had told him in the Halls of Fire last night. "If her cousin wants to see her, and if she wants it as well, there is nothing you can do, my friend."

The Chief Counselor remembered crossing his arms over his chest, and huffed. "It is dangerous to go through the High Pass. Without a companion, Eryn would surely—"

"Be in trouble?" Elrond interjected, observing the stubborn look of his long-time friend. He sighed and caressed his temple, thinking of a way to persuade the ever cautious counselor. "She has become quite a help these past centuries, would you not agree? All these years she has been going around, helping in the barracks, in the kitchens, sometimes in Celebrían's gardens. She scouted with the guards, hunted with Elladan and Elrohir for so long I have forgotten thanking her for keeping an eye on those two."

Erestor huffed again, louder this time.

"What I am trying to say is," Elrond drawled, letting the words sink into his friend's mind, "that Erynlith has been helping us one way or another, but we never get around thanking her for all the efforts. I cannot recall a time when she would demand to be thanked, or to be repaid for everything she has done." He cleared his throat, still observing the counselor. "You could at least give her the freedom to visit King Amroth."

"It is dangerous to go alone," Erestor repeated stubbornly.

"We send the brothers with her. It should suffice."

"No. Elladan and Elrohir cannot hunt a pack of thirty wargs, or a band of orcs while watching over her."

Elrond felt a pang in his chest, knowing that his Chief Counselor did not trust the abilities of his sons. Yet, he pushed the thoughts and feelings aside, as he focused on the matter at hand. "If not Elladan and Elrohir, I could send Lord Glorfindel with her," he said, now feeling a little jubilant when Erestor's face showed a hint of relief.

Still, the counselor was ever dauntless. "No, Glorfindel has duties here. He cannot simply leave and go as he pleases."

What to do, what to do? Elrond would have given up on this conversation, but he remembered how Erynlith beamed when she found out that she would return to Lórinand after so many centuries. He cannot, for the life of him, understand why Erestor does not agree. What was so dangerous in visiting a cousin?

Now, in the bright morning, the Chief Counselor spared one last glance at his reflection, saw the stranger with dark rims under his eyes, and went out of his chambers.

Erestor found some of the elves in the courtyard. He saw Elrond and Celebrían talking to the scouts, Elladan and Elrohir pulling at each other's braids like little children, Arwen smiling so quietly. In the other corner, Glorfindel sauntered towards the centre, bringing in the large white stallion intended to be used for the journey. Beside him, Erynlith appeared, wearing her usual blue tunic and black breeches, and was huddled under a dark cloak. Erestor continued to watch as the umber-haired minstrel cooed at the stallion and fed him an apple.

"She is ready to depart," Celebrían cheerfully told Erestor, twining her arm with his. She leaned her silver head on his shoulder. "You should not glare so early in the morning."

"I am not glaring," Erestor said defensively.

After a while of studying the situation, he finally let go of Celebrían and approached Erynlith.

Everyone seemed to have faded into the background. There was only him, the Chief Counselor so old that he had lived through the First, Second and now, living in the Third Age; and her, the minstrel so young that she had only lived two thousand years of her life, and yet, compared to Erestor, Glorfindel and Elrond, she seemed like a child, like the rest of the others.

"I will be gone only for a few weeks," Erynlith began, smiling up at him in reassurance. She touched his cheek and tapped his nose. "Do not be sad, Brother mine, tra-la."

"I wish I could come with you, to keep watch." He opened his arms and embraced her tightly but gently. He caught whiff of her forestry scent; she must have walked through the woods before he even woke up. His chin rested upon her forehead, and for a while, Erestor did not want to let her go. He wished time would go by slowly, so that he may cherish her while she was still young and free.

She broke apart from the embrace, and tiptoed to kiss his cheek. "No need to worry, tra-lay," she told him. "I only have to see what Amroth has been doing and after that, I will come back as soon as possible. I promise, tra-la."

"You should." He nodded and kissed her forehead.

When their brief farewell seemed to be over, Glorfindel walked towards her just as Erestor was leaving, and he swore he saw the counselor shoot a glare at him. Ignoring that, the warrior examined the stallion's saddle and bridle, and then looked down at his friend.

"Are you sure you want to go alone? I could accompany you as far as the High Pass."

"It's really fine, Glorfindel." She laughed a little. "Why does everyone look so worried? It is only Lórinand. If trouble comes, I am sure the marchwardens would be there for me, tra-lo."

He nodded, looking unconvinced. "Of course."

Erynlith dismissed the concern in his voice and pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket. "Here," she cheerfully sang, handing him the parchment. "If your nightmares ever return—just in case they would—I wrote a little song. I also left my harp at your bedside table so you could play the song to yourself if you cannot sleep."

Utterly warmed by the thought, Glorfindel smiled fondly and looked at the handwritten song:

Night-time Is Here

For Glorfindel

Night time is here, you're starting to yawn,

For now is the time to sleep until dawn,

So lie down beside me, rest your little head,

It's now time to shhh, for the world's gone to bed.

Night time is here, the suns gone away,

And now it's your turn to rest from the day,

Dream all night through till morning draws near,

Until we meet again, when night time is here.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't sound so convincing," Erynlith doubtfully whispered, watching as her friend read the song again and again. She was about to take the paper from him when he snatched it away from her grasp.

He smiled at her. "Thank you for this beautiful piece. I shall keep this in my room until you return."

"Ah, for a moment there I thought you disliked it, tra-lo." She laughed.

When one of the scouts blew on the horn, it was the signal for her to leave the valley.

"Until we meet again, Eryn." Glorfindel took her hand and kissed it.

It took her less than a week to cross the High Pass. The last time she had been here, if she remembered correctly, was when the Last Alliance returned from Greenwood to Rivendell. That had been almost two thousand years ago. It was funny to think how time flew so easily that no one noticed it—Erestor switched from Captain to Chief Counselor, Elladan and Elrohir had reached maturity, and so did Arwen. Gildor remained travelling from Lindon to Eregion and vice versa, Lindir had recently become the apple of the maiden's eyes (instead of Glorfindel), while Erynlith herself... well, nothing much really changed about her.

She kept her pace neutral while passing. She did not want to attract attention, would it be either dwarves or orcs. She did not want her delightful white stallion to stumble on sharp rocks and injured himself. So far, her journey had been so peaceful and quiet. For a moment, she felt free and independent again.

When her horse began to pant, she knew it was time for a break.

Erynlith slipped from the saddle and led her horse on foot until she could see Lórinand at a distance. It felt as though her heart was screaming for joy, and she wanted to run ahead. However, looking at the tired creature that bore her for almost a week of endless riding, she felt sorry for it.

Up ahead, she saw two intersecting rivers. Waters rushed so fast that she feared she might drown, so her distance from the rocky shore was more than enough. Her grip on the reins tightened, her eyes cautiously glancing here and there, in case of trouble. When nothing emerged from the thorny bushes or leapt from the river, she sighed and continued to lead her horse towards an oval-shaped lake. Before the eager horse could dip its large head into the water, she removed the bridle first.

"There, there now." Her hand ran up and down on the strong muzzle, as the stallion drank his fill. She waited for a while, kneeling at the edge of the lake.

When her eyes fell on the water, she was surprised to see no reflection. She blinked once, and then twice. Still nothing. She looked at the horse and saw no reflection as well. Her finger carefully dipped into the clear water; no reflection even at that, only the ripples of the water where her finger had been. Curious more than ever, she placed her hands flat on the lakeshore and leaned in. Still no reflection.

"Hey, you!" Someone was shouting in his deep, throaty voice. "What do you think you're doing, ayuh?!"

Hurriedly, and a little frightened, Erynlith withdrew from the edge and looked up. She was confused for a moment; a stunted creature was trudging towards her, his heavy footfalls sounded like the very earth was shaking underneath his iron boots. He stopped on the other side of the lake, just across her, and held up an axe as heavy and tall as he was. Then, another one came into view; a big-boned creature with thick, dark hair and bushy eyebrows, with a scar across his left cheek and a mace strapped behind his back.

It had been so many years, but Erynlith knew Dwarves when she saw them.

"What are you doing in our lake?!"

Confused, Erynlith looked behind her and found no one.

"What are ye, stoo-pid?" The second dwarf with the scar grinned at her, as his voice slurred the word stupid. "Of course we are talkin' to you!"

"You get out of our property right now!" said the first dwarf, holding up his axe even higher, in case she did not see before. "This lake is ours—to the line of Durin's Folk! We aren't going to share our lake with you scrawny Elves! Go back to your forest unless you want another good beating like the last one!"

Erynlith paused, realizing that the Dwarves of Moria had actually hurt someone from Lórinand. Who was it? Did Amroth send for her because of this conflict?

Looking up and meeting the dark eyes of the two muscled dwarves, she could do nothing but kneel on the lakeshore. She felt rather vexed at the thought of someone hurt—someone from Lórinand—and the vexation feeling slowly turned into that of silent rage. King Amdír, her uncle, had told her countless times that Dwarves were never to be trusted, that they were troublesome creatures that needed to be avoided at all costs. She didn't understand him then; now she did.

She reached out for her white bow, and at the slightest of her movements, the two dwarves stepped forward, as though ready to rush in and seize her.

"Leave now, Elf!" the second dwarf repeated.

But if I move, you will attack me. She knelt there, eyes locked with the dwarves. Then, in one swift masterful motion, she unstrapped her bow and aimed her arrow at the first dwarf, whose axe was raised higher. When the second one moved, her aim turned to him. Her arm stretched the string, ready to fire to whoever would dare attack her. She found out that she cannot turn around and mount her horse without being grabbed by the dwarves and grappled by them. Yet she cannot stay there, in this compromising position, all day.

Annoyed now, the second dwarf also unstrapped his mace and pounded the iron head on his calloused palm. "Leave now or we will force you to leave, She-elf!"

She neither moved nor blinked. When the second dwarf shrugged and leapt towards her, screaming a loud battle cry and raising his mace above his head, she was prepared to take him down then and there—

Until a swift arrow flew between her and the dwarf, and was embedded on the ground.

Suddenly, she was surrounded by the cloaked Elves of Lórinand. Each one was beside her, as though protecting her until she was pushed out of the way of harm. She gave them an incredulous look, not expecting to be saved at the nick of time, but somehow, she was also relieved.

At the head of the company, a Marchwarden approached. He was tall and lean, with silver-gold hair that fell to his back, cold and sharp blue-grey eyes that glared menacingly at dwarves. In his right hand he held a bow, in his left a horn, and strapped across his back was a quiver filled with arrows. He walked until he was close enough to see the dwarves sneering at him, and he sneered back at them.

"You are in no position to threaten one of our people," the Marchwarden began. His voice was aloof and commanding.

The first dwarf with the axe and iron boots snorted. "Better keep your part of the agreement until everything is settled."

"Until then, you have no rights to threaten us," the Marchwarden returned coolly.

Glaring in defeat, the two dwarves plodded back towards the other direction and entered Moria through a round entrance.

After a few moments of silence, the Marchwarden finally turned around and headed back to his company. Only then did Erynlith realize that she had never met him before. He seemed to be as lean as Erestor, only that his arms were more defined possibly due to years of training, whereas Erestor had given up on training for more counselor duties. She noticed his face, that youthful and handsome face that she had never seen before. And that fact irked her.

"What do you think you are doing?" the Marchwarden snapped at her.

She flinched at his cold voice, and felt everyone's eyes on her. "I was on my way to Lórinand when—"

"You are not from around here?"

"No. King Amroth has asked for me though. I wonder if he—"

"Are you from Greenwood then?" His blue-grey eyes assessed her.

"No." She bit her lip upon hearing the name.

"Rivendell?"

She beamed at him. "Yes."

The Marchwarden's eyes gradually widened at some realization Erynlith could not place. He stood there for a moment, right in front of her, as though she said something that was between incredibly amazing or utterly stupid. Then, the young warden was silent, letting the wind blew his silky tresses, ignoring the curious glances from his companions. He could feel something swelling in the pit of his stomach, like butterflies—but it was just a metaphor; he didn't actually know what butterflies in the stomach felt. He studied her face, hair and curious grey eyes; remembered how she held her ground against the two dwarves; saw her bow and daggers and was almost certain that it was her.

After what seemed to be forever, the Marchwarden finally found his voice.

"You are not, by any chance, Erfaron, are you?

Erynlith held her breath. She swore she had never seen this young elf before.

*Night-time Is Here - Gaia Rose

Next Chapter: Erynlith meets and bonds with the wardens.

Author's Notes: Yeah, I kind of forgot to warn everyone about the HUGE timeskip. I know it must be irking to some readers, but like I said before, I cannot write about everything that happened in the past years. It would take dozens of chapters if I went into that much details. Elves live for so long that we just really need a timeskip. Sorry to all who doesn't appreciate timeskips. Anyway, this takes centuries after Glorfindel arrived in Middle-earth, sometime around TA 1980, t̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶r̶i̶s̶i̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶t̶w̶e̶e̶n̶ ̶A̶m̶r̶o̶t̶h̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶N̶i̶m̶r̶o̶d̶e̶l̶.̶ ̶Y̶e̶s̶,̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶g̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶w̶a̶r̶d̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶d̶i̶r̶e̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶.̶

I think our mystery Marchwarden is more or less obvious, or is it just me?

*juliacensi95 - Aww, thank you so much for the long and wonderful review! It's very nice to meet you and welcome to ! I am glad you appreciate and love the characters as they are in this story. You posted so many praises and I cannot thank you enough for all of it! I'll just keep on writing and hope you like each of the upcoming chapters I post. Don't worry! Spoiler alert! Eryn and Thrandy should meet soon. Also, which country are you from? Your English is really good!

Again, thank you so much for the review!

*Zip001 - Yes, it's like Elrond could see through people and knows exactly how to deal with it. It is what makes him a good leader and father. As for Glorfindel, there was the need to impress Elrond (being new in the valley and all) so I really imagined him overdoing it and getting himself too exhausted in the process. And Firianath. Tsk, tsk, you bad girl. Glorfy to the rescue! Thank you for the review!

*Phoebus Artemis - Thank you! Hope you enjoy reading more!

*Eirithdiel - LOL. I am so sorry, but I can't help writing chapters about Glorfindel! He's just one of my most favourite Elves! How can you not like Elves? They're fabulous all the time, just ask Thrandy! XD

*Rosiethehobbit17 - Good to have you back! LOL. With or without reviews, it brings me joy to update this story. Anywho, we have normal Glorfy, sleepy Glorfy... what about drunk Glorfy next?

*Lord Illyren - Not to worry, my Lord! Eryn and Thrandy shall cross paths sooner or later. Yes, both of them are just too proud to admit it, especially Thrandy. He doesn't want something unless it is served in a silver platter. Think positively! Eryn is in Lorinand now, and we all know Thrandy often visits Lorinand so... *evil laughter*

*May - High five for Team Glorfy!