For elfbystarlight
Title: Inferno
Fandom: Middle Earth (LotR & Simarillion)
Disclaimer: Professor Tolkien spent a lot of time on this world, I'm just visiting.
Notes: For elfbystarlight.
This was meant to be a drabble...honest, it was. Fear my inability to write shorter pieces. -_-;
By the time the hobbits came, most of the covert interest had died down. He could walk through the halls of Rivendell without the other elves turning slightly to look at him as he passed. Elves had very long memories, something that Glorfindel found distressing. It was the one shadow on his happiness here in the house of Elrond.
But had I not, the hobbit might have died and the One ring returned to the Shadow. A slight shudder ran through him at the thought. The Nine. He had never dreamt to see them so close to the sanctuary of Imaldris and the thought that the Dark Lord should have grown so bold worried him greatly. He looked out into the twilight, hearing the cheerful cries as Legolas and his brothers greeted Mithrandir and Aragorn.
Glorfindel leant on the balustrade and stared out into the twilight, watching the Western star herald the coming of the night. He wavered for a moment, then slipped easily on to the dream paths. The visions that awaited him there were the same as they always were.
Fire.
Dark flames that belched thick black smoke to cloud the last of the sun's light from the sky. He cried out to his kinfolk, turning back to see the Balrog thunder to the ground behind them. The Elves cried out in fear and dismay.
He turned back to the monster, crying out to his kin to flee. The battle was hard fought and it was not skill nor prowess that gave him victory but a stumble, the bright blade he had polished and tended with such pride sliding under the the fell creature's guard to pierce its heart. Black blood like molten tar spurted from the wound and seared his flesh. He stumbled backward in a vain attempt to avoid the foul liquid. The world was torn from him in a choking stream of foul blood. He felt pain beyond any he had imagined in his long years of life.
He awakened in the Halls of Mandos with no knowledge of how many years had slipped by, one or many thousands. He simply stood and looked about him. He could see Feanor, proud and beautiful, even with the pallor of death on his brow. The sons who had followed their father into exile and death stood silent and still, arrayed around the Noldor king as an honour guard.
He was still not sure why he of all the great company who had by paths diverse come to gather in the Halls was granted a reprieve. He remembered Mandros' face, stern and noble and the benevolent smile as the song of the sea rose to consume his senses...
Another flame drew him back from the dreams and visions of the path. A flame as different from the Balrog's dark fire as day is from night. He opened his eyes and turned to smile at the Elf standing close beside him, looking lovingly upon dark hair and robes in the colours of the autumn forest.
"You are going to be late for dinner," Elrond's voice was amused. "I thought it best to fetch you before our guests eat the table."
Glorfindel laughed, leaning slightly against the warmth the other Elf offered. "Such large appetites for such small beings."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, then Elrond spoke so abruptly that his words were harsh. "The Council will meet tomorrow."
Glorfindel looked up, surprised. "Frodo should be there..."
Elrond was looking out over his lands and he seemed aged and suddenly wearied. Glorfindel laid his head on the taller Elf's shoulder as he spoke softly, the words lacced with bitterness. "He will be. His wound is as healed as I and my arts can make it." A pause and then a weary and heartfelt sigh. "I want the Ring gone. I wish that it had never come here and I wish that I could believe we will make the right choice. Gandalf would have had us guard it but the sea-longing is too deep and our people long for the West."
Glorfindel slid an arm around the Half-Elven lord and rested his head on the nearest shoulder, offering comfort with his wordless embrace. Elrond fell silent and they stood together as the stars sparkled overhead and the sounds of merriment echoed up from the dining hall.
Then Glorfindel spoke up. "You do not wish to leave."
The words hung in the silence for a moment and he spoke again. "You may have chosen to stand with your Eldar kindred but part of you remembers your father and your brother and wishes not to leave."
Elrond looked away. "Sentimentality. My brother's kingdom was lost to the sea centuries ago and my father has sailed the skies for even longer."
"It is in the way we were made to seek the company of our kin. They may have gone beyond this world but surely they think of you as often as you think of them." Glorfindel smiled. "I believe that you will see them again, when the world is broken and remade. Until then," he pressed in closer. "You will have to make do with my company."
To his great satisfaction, Elrond's arm rose to return the embrace and the blond elf smiled against the velvet shoulder of the robe, feeling the embroidery rub against his cheek. The embrace lasted for another few endless minutes until Glorfindel roused himself with a pang of sincere regret and very real hunger. "We should go to dinner or our guests will surely have eaten us out of house and home."
Elrond's soft laughter lifted his heart and as he turned to go back inside, Glorfindel would have sworn that the stars shone a fraction brighter.
Fandom: Middle Earth (LotR & Simarillion)
Disclaimer: Professor Tolkien spent a lot of time on this world, I'm just visiting.
Notes: For elfbystarlight.
This was meant to be a drabble...honest, it was. Fear my inability to write shorter pieces. -_-;
By the time the hobbits came, most of the covert interest had died down. He could walk through the halls of Rivendell without the other elves turning slightly to look at him as he passed. Elves had very long memories, something that Glorfindel found distressing. It was the one shadow on his happiness here in the house of Elrond.
But had I not, the hobbit might have died and the One ring returned to the Shadow. A slight shudder ran through him at the thought. The Nine. He had never dreamt to see them so close to the sanctuary of Imaldris and the thought that the Dark Lord should have grown so bold worried him greatly. He looked out into the twilight, hearing the cheerful cries as Legolas and his brothers greeted Mithrandir and Aragorn.
Glorfindel leant on the balustrade and stared out into the twilight, watching the Western star herald the coming of the night. He wavered for a moment, then slipped easily on to the dream paths. The visions that awaited him there were the same as they always were.
Fire.
Dark flames that belched thick black smoke to cloud the last of the sun's light from the sky. He cried out to his kinfolk, turning back to see the Balrog thunder to the ground behind them. The Elves cried out in fear and dismay.
He turned back to the monster, crying out to his kin to flee. The battle was hard fought and it was not skill nor prowess that gave him victory but a stumble, the bright blade he had polished and tended with such pride sliding under the the fell creature's guard to pierce its heart. Black blood like molten tar spurted from the wound and seared his flesh. He stumbled backward in a vain attempt to avoid the foul liquid. The world was torn from him in a choking stream of foul blood. He felt pain beyond any he had imagined in his long years of life.
He awakened in the Halls of Mandos with no knowledge of how many years had slipped by, one or many thousands. He simply stood and looked about him. He could see Feanor, proud and beautiful, even with the pallor of death on his brow. The sons who had followed their father into exile and death stood silent and still, arrayed around the Noldor king as an honour guard.
He was still not sure why he of all the great company who had by paths diverse come to gather in the Halls was granted a reprieve. He remembered Mandros' face, stern and noble and the benevolent smile as the song of the sea rose to consume his senses...
Another flame drew him back from the dreams and visions of the path. A flame as different from the Balrog's dark fire as day is from night. He opened his eyes and turned to smile at the Elf standing close beside him, looking lovingly upon dark hair and robes in the colours of the autumn forest.
"You are going to be late for dinner," Elrond's voice was amused. "I thought it best to fetch you before our guests eat the table."
Glorfindel laughed, leaning slightly against the warmth the other Elf offered. "Such large appetites for such small beings."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, then Elrond spoke so abruptly that his words were harsh. "The Council will meet tomorrow."
Glorfindel looked up, surprised. "Frodo should be there..."
Elrond was looking out over his lands and he seemed aged and suddenly wearied. Glorfindel laid his head on the taller Elf's shoulder as he spoke softly, the words lacced with bitterness. "He will be. His wound is as healed as I and my arts can make it." A pause and then a weary and heartfelt sigh. "I want the Ring gone. I wish that it had never come here and I wish that I could believe we will make the right choice. Gandalf would have had us guard it but the sea-longing is too deep and our people long for the West."
Glorfindel slid an arm around the Half-Elven lord and rested his head on the nearest shoulder, offering comfort with his wordless embrace. Elrond fell silent and they stood together as the stars sparkled overhead and the sounds of merriment echoed up from the dining hall.
Then Glorfindel spoke up. "You do not wish to leave."
The words hung in the silence for a moment and he spoke again. "You may have chosen to stand with your Eldar kindred but part of you remembers your father and your brother and wishes not to leave."
Elrond looked away. "Sentimentality. My brother's kingdom was lost to the sea centuries ago and my father has sailed the skies for even longer."
"It is in the way we were made to seek the company of our kin. They may have gone beyond this world but surely they think of you as often as you think of them." Glorfindel smiled. "I believe that you will see them again, when the world is broken and remade. Until then," he pressed in closer. "You will have to make do with my company."
To his great satisfaction, Elrond's arm rose to return the embrace and the blond elf smiled against the velvet shoulder of the robe, feeling the embroidery rub against his cheek. The embrace lasted for another few endless minutes until Glorfindel roused himself with a pang of sincere regret and very real hunger. "We should go to dinner or our guests will surely have eaten us out of house and home."
Elrond's soft laughter lifted his heart and as he turned to go back inside, Glorfindel would have sworn that the stars shone a fraction brighter.