The battle didn't last long, mainly due to the vast superior numbers of fighting dwarves.

Lári's short legs churned as she raced through warriors in search of her husband when the horn sounded all clear. She panted to a stop at his side and noticed they were surrounded by dead orcs and Wargs, but relieved he was unharmed and hoped his news was good. "Have you seen Lióni?" She wailed over the din of soldiers shouting and greeting fellow dwarves in a joyous reunion.

"She is supposed ta be behind the wagons with ye," Dóvad snarled, dread forming in his belly.

"She broke away from me and joined the soldiers. This is your doing, Dóvad. You encourage her."

"We'll find the lass," he snarled and turned to see what warriors were available. In his perusal, he spotted Dwalin and hurried to his side. "Lióni is missing," he raged. "Could'na be they took her?"

Dwalin leveled a disbelieving stare at him. "You heard what they were after. Did they get close enough to the dams ta steal her?"

"Nay, Dwalin, she foolishly joined the warriors an now is gone."

Dwalin looked out over bodies of the slain. "Have this area searched. I'll find Dáin and we'll do a broader search. Check with all your warriors and dwarves."

Dáin, on his boar, planted himself on an outcropping and directed his warriors to scour the bodies should the lass be trapped under the dead. Spotting Gandalf galloping over a hill in his direction, he redirected his attention and reported when the wizard pulled up at his side. "Everyone is in good spirits, although it seems ah lass intended for ah Durin has come up missing according ta Lord Dóvad. Seems she is his daughter."

Gandalf was sure Thranduil would rescue her, but what if the elves missed her? Before he could explain that the elves were hunting their enemy just over the hill, Dóvad's ram stamped his feet at the abrupt tugging on the reins and the lord skidded on the rocks before him and Dáin. "My daughter foolishly joined the fight an ain't among the dead," he thundered. "One of my warriors saw her snatched by those filthy animals. I'm going after her."

"Wait, Dóvad; call for a raven," Gandalf ordered Dáin with sternness in his tone that had both dwarves pausing their hastiness to pursue.

Dáin whistled and while they waited Dwalin joined them.

"All quarters reported to me an the lass is still missing," Dwalin reported to his fellow dwarves and Gandalf.

Once again before Gandalf could offer a possible explanation a large black bird floated over the caravan and landed on Dáin's outstretched arm.

Piqu, the raven rested easily on the gold plated mithril armor incasing the outstretched arm and squawked loudly for several seconds causing Dáin and Dwalin to laugh. When he finished, Dáin reached in his pocket and fished out a piece of bread. "This is all I'm packen for ye buzzards this trip."

Piqu bobbed his head and took flight, while Gandalf waited impatiently.

"Yer lass was seen on the back of an elk," Dáin replied with a gleam in his eyes.

Gandalf's fierce countenance instantly changed and he grinned.

"Yer sick Durin humor isn't appreciated at this moment," Dóvad raged and raised his Warhammer.

"You strike a Durin and I'll have you in our dungeon the moment your feet hit the floor in the mountain," Dáin warned in a rare usage of formal speech.

"Lord Dóvad, what Dáin says is correct. If your daughter is on the back of an elk, that means she is with none other than King Thranduil of the woodland elves. She is quite safe, unless she insults the king…..but I'm sure you raised her right."

Dóvad lowered his weapon. "I didn't see any elves." He looked at Dáin. "Care to explain?"

Before Dáin could reply, Dwalin interjected, "So the elves were riding our flank?"

Dáin nodded, "You know how the king is? He sent ah raven ta Thranduil an asked for help."

"Well, we will get the lass back then," Dwalin uttered and in his mind the situation was resolved. "Let's get the wagons moving." He looked directly at Dóvad, so everyone knew who was to do that task.

"Not until these mythical elves bring my daughter," Dóvad refused firmly, aware displeasing a Durin might have dire consequences.

"Well, turn around then," Gandalf snapped.

Dóvad swiveled just as a line of elves topped the ridge. He was stunned to see his daughter on an elk with a large elf sitting behind her and it trotted directly to the wizard while dwarves came running to see the strange sight.

"Mithrandir, I rescued one of your pets," Thranduil spoke in Sindarin.

"So this is the one Thorin attacked and would have had his way with?" Dáin asked in the tongue of the elves, and all dwarves present who understood, laughed.

"She doesn't favor him after he mauled her dignity and I believe his wedding night would be interesting with this one," Dwalin responded in kind.

"She should be forced to wed Thorin," Thranduil lightheartedly added. "His life wouldn't be dull and he might have to sleep with one eye open, like I had to." Thinking of his wife, he remembered. "Dwalin, you have a book Thorin purchased?"

Gandalf looked at Dwalin with interest. "What would Thorin want with a book?"

Dwalin looked uncomfortable, "He didn't tell me what it was for, but overpaid a gold coin for it. Some book with lots of pictures. Maybe he wants to improve his Sindar Cirth reading."

"Do we have to hold up the caravan over a book?" Gandalf retorted acerbically looking at the growing crowd now ringing the elves.

"I'm not done with this, Mithrandir," Thranduil warned. "I will see this book Thorin desired."

Gandalf looked to Thranduil's right, "Lord Celeborn, I am happy to see you brought your warriors to aid the dwarves."

"You know how much I care for dwarves, Mithrandir. I do care about my sleeping arrangements and the hag insisted I come."

Gandalf grinned and addressed Dóvad, "You must forgive our speaking the language of the elves. You will find that in Erebor, Westron and Khuzdul are interchanged frequently. There will be tutors for those needing to learn Westron."

"I speak it, as do my dwarflings. My wife insisted," Dóvad replied, miffed his wife didn't teach him Sindarin; for he was sure she could speak some.

Gandalf looked at Thranduil and spoke in Westron, "Are you coming to the mountain?"

"I wouldn't miss what is coming for anything," Thranduil replied in kind and smiled at the wizard.

"I expect you would enjoy it." Gandalf seared him with a warning glance.

Dóvad wondered at their play of words, but sent word to get them moving. He watched as Lióni got lifted gently off the saddle and dropped to the ground. He escorted her back to their wagon. "What got into ya, child?"

"I wanted to help," she responded with her usual defiance. "Did you know the rider of the elk is a king? The other one is a lord and father of the elf that Thorin read about in the book."

"I haven't seen Thranduil in so long." Lári looked after the elves, now taking their position in front of the wagons.

"How come you never told me about elves?" Lióni questioned her mother as she climbed onto the wagon.

"Where is your beard?" Lári just realized it was missing and glad for a change of subject.

Dóvad then saw his wife was right. "The elves saw yer naked face an didn't molest ye?"

"No Father; they asked where it was and I'll tell you what I said to them. I don't need one."

"I'm glad King Thorin is lenient with yer sassy attitude. Any other king an ye would be flogged, as well as me," her father moaned at his own folly for raising such a froward daughter.

"We will make you a new one," her mother reasoned and started off behind the Durin's.

Lióni hurried to keep pace; leaving her father to make sure no stragglers could be picked off by remaining orcs they may have missed. Satisfied, he raced to the front and joined Dáin and Dwalin's group.

Satisfied the battle went in favor of dwarves, Thráin left the rampart, with Dori on one side and young Thorin the other, although the youngster threw a last glance over his shoulder.

"Go and tell the dams all ye saw," Thráin instructed him.

"But I'm ta stay by yer side until relieved by higher rank, and there isn't any here, or ye are safe," Thorin quoted his father's parting instructions.

"All right, I'll go with ye." He winked at Dori, who grinned back. "I'll be dining in my chambers tonight. Seems like all our trusted warriors chose ah battle over guarding me."

"When do ye think they will be here?" Thorin asked and nodded he approved when two warriors preceded them and two brought up the rear. Dwarves in the market parted and bowed as they marched through to the wide staircase leading to Durin family wing.

"After midnight. Gandalf will keep them moving lest another attempt is made on the caravan."

Thorin followed him down the hall to his rooms. He looked at the older, trusted guards and after Thráin closed his door, instructed, "My father will return tonight. Come and get me when they are close. I'll personally escort the king."

"Ye may be ah future lord, master Thorin, but we only take orders from the king or ah ranking lord," the closest replied and the others laughed.

Thorin's ears burned at the dressing down. "Ye'll do as I say or face me in the arena." He stomped to his rooms and slammed the door in rage, laughter following him all the way.

"Did the battle go ill for us?" Azie asked when seeing her son's expression and the way he threw his Warhammer across the room.

"Naw, it's those guards in the hall. I told them ta come an get me when the caravan was close an they said they didn't take orders from one such as me. Someday I'll be able ta best them, an I've marked who they are."

"Perhaps you should tell your father," Azie advised.

He snorted, "An have my father fight my battles? No, this will be my fight."

Azie looked at her mother and they both smiled. Their dwarfling was growing up and not running to his father to right his bumps in life like he used to.

Picket stood just out of sight with Thráin's laundry in his hands when he heard the soldiers laughing and mocking young Thorin. He counted to ten and stepped lively around the corner from the back stairway that led down into the bowels of the mountain. The warriors stopped laughing and straightened against the walls, like guards of their stature were trained to stand. Without acknowledging any, he opened the king's door and disappeared inside.

Thráin looked up from stoking the fire. "Are the laundries ready for more dirty clothes?"

"Aye, they have all repairs made. Lord Dori personally inspected the area just this morning." When Thráin didn't speak further, he made his decision. "Thorin Stonehelm had words with the guards in the hall. I know he is ah youth, but his father did leave him great responsibility in regards ta yer presence." He knew he had the king's attention when the one eye was focused on him. "The lad may do something foolish; for I heard him comment on seeing them in the arena. He is no match for seasoned warriors an I doubt Lord Dáin would wish his eldest injured."

"I'll mention it to Dáin," Thráin replied and saw a relieved look cross Picket's face.

Without another word, Picket took the laundry to the king's bedchamber.

Thráin picked up the book off the table and opened to the bookmark. Settling before the fire to wait his repast, he started into another chapter.

Impressions of Meeting the Twice Born

His hair was of spun gold from the finest forges; tresses lifting slightly in the wind blowing off the Gulf of Lhûn. It was a strange wind; one the elves of the first age commented upon. They said a wind like this one was blowing the day King Finarfin arrived with his fleet at the Bay of Falas. This lone elf stood tall at the bow of his small vessel. The features were of a young looking elf, eyes alight with mischief and a ready smile. He had the bearing of a warrior; wizened eyes scanning the growing host of gawkers. His cloak and tunic had me flashing back to my elflinghood when the survivors of Gondolin were still among us and I sensed he was out of time, but not sure of my impressions.

I, Erestor, penned those words when I first laid eyes on the distant traveler from across the sea and the memories he invoked. I was on the docks that day taking supplies to a boat made ready to sail to the undying lands when it caught my attention, both for sporting a unique design and gliding past empty quays directly to my location. Our eyes met for the first time and to my astonishment, he lit from within and his entire body cast a white/golden glow, not unlike a firefly. My eyes were immediately drawn to a large white horse with his head resting on the shoulder of this strange elf. I snapped from my surprise when the boat bumped the dock and several dock workers rushed to moor it.

The stranger, with ease of an athlete and single leap, landed before me. I will always remember he was wearing a blue cloak carelessly tossed over each shoulder, displaying a tunic of grey adorned with golden flowers across the bottom and buttonholes. Before I could utter a syllable, Fálmar, Elrond's elflinghood companion, darted to my side and greeted him. "The sun shines brightly upon our meeting, distinguished visitor. I am primogeniture lord of North Mithlond when my adar sails."

The stranger looked with amusement at Fálmar and once again his eyes drifted to me. Still he didn't speak and another voice from just behind me had me gasping in wonder.

Lord Galdor and chief lieutenant to Círdan spoke in disbelief, "It cannot be. I saw you fall to your death and was at your graveside when Thorondor brought your body for burial. I did not know Glorfindel had an identical twin."

The golden haired elf looked at his horse still on the boat and gave a command and we first heard his commanding voice. "Asfaloth, take a long run into the hills. You've been onboard for a month."

We watched as the horse whinnied and jumped onto the stone dock, rocking the boat madly. It took off and was soon from our sight.

We all focused on him again when he answered Galdor. "Galdor, you know I have two older sisters and being youngest and only iôn, am spoiled horribly." He smiled and lit from within, a site not seen since Melian walked these shores before my birth. "I was released from the Halls of Mandos and given a small task back on these shores."

Galdor pushed by Fálmar and laid his hands on what had to be Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower from the few words spoken by him and Galdor. "It is you, bruin meldir. You must tell us everything so I may direct your path clearly. Who do you seek?"

Glorfindel's eyes sought mine again, while Fálmar, slower to catch on, asked again who he was.

I glanced around and the dock was packed with everyone wanting a glimpse of this anomalous elf.

"Is that Ecthelion's iôn?" He was looking at me again. "He looks so much like him."

Galdor placed a hand on my shoulder, "This is Lord Erestor. He was born on the trail of tears to Lady Emera and Lord Ecthelion and earned his title for dedication to Middle Earth. He is studious like his naneth and fights almost as good as his adar. He inherited sublime traits from both parents."

Laughing blue eyes looked into my Ñoldor greys. "I shall find your weaknesses and amuse myself. That's the least I can do for my dear friend's iôn."

I was still uncertain this was the famous Glorfindel that lays were sung and name mentioned reverently among the greatest of heroes. "Do you have letters of introduction?" I asked.

Once again the elf lit from within and a grin grew across his handsome, boyish features. "I will tell you stories of your adar not written in your dusty tomes. I seek Lord Círdan first and then the current Ñoldor king."

"Of course," Galdor replied and motioned for Glorfindel to join him. Not to be left out, I followed closely and Glorfindel glanced at me with approval.

"What are your duties?" he asked me.

"I'm house seneschal to Lord Círdan. I do his bidding and keep records and write books."

He looked at me in horror, "I'm glad your adar is dead. No iôn of his would be allowed to morph into a librarian."

I grew angry; hero or not, he had no right to disparage my profession. "I doubt you are back from the dead and through happenstance resemble a dead lord. Good luck convincing Lord Círdan."

Galdor laughed softly, "Young Erestor, I've known this fëa from when we lived in Aman. One might pass for another ellon, but the fëa cannot be copied. Soon we will hear what I'm sure is a fascinating tale. I've heard rumors that the Halls of Mandos can give up their dead. King Finarfin said his eldest had just rejoined the living just days before he sailed to our shores."

"I greeted many in the Halls during that war. Many from before the sun who died are already risen and rejoined their families," Glorfindel provided as we hurried up a cobblestone walkway to Círdan's palace. Glorfindel looked around and then at the enormous house. "This is much larger than his home in Falas."

"How much do you know?" Galdor asked him and opened a door.

"I've retained memories of my past life." We stepped into the foyer and Glorfindel looked at the lush trees bearing citrus fruits that would freeze, even in the mild Mithlond winters.

Taíban stepped from a room and stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide open.

Glorfindel raised his hand to his chest and gave a slight bow. "Lord Taíban, I haven't seen you since Celeborn and Galadriel's wedding and we pitted warriors from Fingolfin's group against those of Elu Thingol."

"We would have won if Celeborn wasn't preoccupied with his bride," Taíban griped and then reached his hand for a warrior's grasp. "Did you fake your death?"

Glorfindel lit from within as he smiled.

Taíban continued, "You didn't do that last time we were together. I've only seen Melian look thus on occasion."

"I was asked to return."

"Don't tell me you were run from the Halls of Mandos and Aman in the short space of one millennia?" The booming voice of Círdan rained down upon us and we turned as one to see him leaning over a balustrade of white marble.

Glorfindel smirked and bowed his head respectfully. "If you loosen my tongue with your finest wine, I'll regale you with stories from Aman and Halls of the dead." Glorfindel looked around, "Where is Eärendil and Elwing's iôn?"

Círdan paused and pondered on Glorfindel's last statement before joining us and grabbing Glorfindel in a hard hug. Hands rested on each shoulder as he examined this strange elf carefully. Finally, the mariner spoke, "Elrond and Elros stayed with me until reaching their majority. Elrond moved to King Gil-galad's home to learn to be a Ñoldor and study healing from our finest in the craft. He also is a warrior you would be proud to have at your side. And that is all I'm telling you in the foyer. Come," he motioned for us to follow to his personal rooms. He motioned for a servant, "Rush to Gil-Galad and tell him I have an interesting visitor. Also inform the king, I give him half an hour to grace my home or I'll start interrogating without him….and don't breathe one word who our guest is."

"You haven't mentioned Elrond's current location," Glorfindel astutely commented. "If he were in Mithlond, I'm assuming you would have summonsed him."

"What do you know?" Círdan deflected and we accepted wine and settled on comfortable settees to observe our guest.

"That I would have to find much on my own. I was subjected to close supervision until I sailed and taken first to my parents' home and then to Taniquetil for instruction. Like you, Círdan, I was blessed by the Valar with minor Maiar abilities."

I was stunned by his revelation. "What are you able to do?" I blurted out and regretted it for his insufferable smile was immediately cast in my direction.

Before he could answer, a knock sounded and a servant rushed to open to the king. It was at that moment I realized Círdan surreptitiously ordered Gil-galad to join us and wondered at the king jumping so quickly instead of making the other lord wait.

Gil-galad entered and looked closely at Glorfindel without recognition.

Gil-galad: I have yet to be disappointed when Círdan urgently wishes to see me. I took note of the stranger with Círdan and his normal entourage. I was expecting it to be King Oropher or his wild, impulsive iôn, Thranduil. My interest mounted with knowledge I was to meet a new elf who had the ear of Lord Círdan.

"King Gil-galad, you received your crown upon the death of King Turgon," Círdan formally declared superfluously. We listened out of politeness and knew of Gil-galad's rise to High King. "Had this elf lived; he would be your right hand."

Gil-galad's head whipped as to cause whiplash, he turned it so fast and uttered, "He looks very much alive to me."

Galdor laughed and slapped the thigh of the stranger, "I expect for the next thousand years, we'll all be forced to hear your story; which I haven't heard yet, I might add."

Círdan motioned the elf to stand and likewise rose. Respectful before the king, the mariner gave formal introduction. "Ereinion Gil-galad, High King of the Elves of the West, King of Lindon and the Lord of Eriador, meet the twice-born elf, Lord Glorfindel Glorwëion of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin, Lord in the House of Findawë and third cousin to the Lady Galadriel."

Gil-galad's jaw dropped, and he took a moment to recover. "I'm speechless, Lord Glorfindel. No, no, do not bow to me. I feel I should genuflect instead. I have much to ask, but will allow my host to direct the conversation." He took a much needed glass of wine and sank into a chair.

Círdan dutifully took over. "Now that the king is here, start from your time in the Halls of Mandos."

With all eyes on the golden haired reborn, he began. "It's funny that I remember my death. I still can feel my flesh burned away and the smell of singed and burning hair. The fall didn't kill me, but the landing sure did."

He stopped to allow us our mirth. It was apparent; this elf had a fine sense of humor and could laugh at his plight.

"My fëa departed the broken corpse and I saw the Great Eagle, Thorondor, gliding down the outside wall and snatching my body before the orcs and trolls could have their way with it. I would like to say I stayed for my funeral, but was drawn across the sea at a pace faster than a burst of sunray. Mandos met me at the gates of his realm. 'Glorfindel, it saddens me to welcome you here. If ever one gave freely of himself, it is you. Come and rest now.' Then he was gone and I was in the spirit world. I moved through the halls, greeting others, who like me, seemed to float without effort. We could see each other's fëas and there were no strangers in the Halls. I met some of the first who died and were victims when Melkor first attacked at Cuiviénen. They have no home, so will remain forever with Lord Mandos and live in his halls."

"Is it true?" Gil-galad interrupted. "The fables telling of tapestries of time on the walls?"

"Where did you hear that?" Glorfindel queried right back, but with a smile we were to learn was as natural to him as breathing.

"The tales of Aman are written into books for elflings. I was read them before bed each night. Gondolin had several stories and you were mentioned as a great hero that all elfling boys wanted to emulate."

"Yes, the fables are true and quite fascinating. I met those whose lives were laid out on the walls, including mine." He pierced Gil-galad with a serious look. "I saw your life being woven by Míriel, ex-wife of Finwë." He stopped and chuckled. "That was quite entertaining. King Finwë was still in the Halls when I arrived. He tried to avoid her, but was drawn daily to her rooms to see his family. Of course, many of his daeriôns spent time with him and Fëanor will be forever with his mother. Interesting note on that. She is the only one with a body in the Halls."

"No way," I snapped. "That is impossible."

Again that amused smirk was thrown my way. "Young, Erestor, it will take several millennia for me to finish your education. With the Valar, anything is possible."

He talked long into the night and we hardly allowed him to eat for wanting to hear more. Finally, Círdan called a halt and stated Glorfindel was to be his guest.

"I object," Gil-galad shouted. "As king, I say he comes to my home."

Glorfindel laughed in delight. "I haven't been here but a few hours and am starting another war."

"How many are laid to your credit?" I asked sarcastically.

He smiled at me, "Most of my wars are pitting elves against each other for my amusement."