It was nighttime.

The stars were bright as diamonds, and the moon a silver candle flame. The wind blew through the trees, making the leaves whisper secrets to each other, and the darkness of midnight Rivendell was silent.

Arwen Undomiel strode through the halls of Imladris, her ocean-blue gown trailing the floors. Her hair was unbound, and her youth had made her curious of the noise that drifted into her bedroom. It was a quiet noise, almost nonexistent, but it sounded like something that needed attention. She stopped in front of Lord Glorfindel’s door. It was open a crack, and she could hear that the noise was coming from inside.

Silently, she pushed the door open and put a bare foot into the room. It was totally dark. No fire in the fireplace, no candles lit, but she could make out Glorfindel’s frame in the window. His shoulders shook, and Arwen, connecting the movement with the sound, realized he was crying.

“Glorfy?” she asked in a whisper. She’d never grown out of her childhood pet name for the Elf-Lord.

He didn’t answer.

Arwen walked up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder, her fingers tangling in the golden tresses that had turned white in the moon’s light. “Glorfy?” she asked again.

The Elf turned slowly and met her gray eyes. Silver trails from the tears he’d cried led down his face. He smiled sadly at her and tried to act nonchalant. “Did you need something, Undomiel?” he asked softly.

“No, but I heard something, so I came to see what it was. And I found you,” she said, feeling as if she’d stumbled into something private. She had never seen her Glorfy cry, and was slightly unnerved. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her hand tightening on his shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, standing.

“No, Glorfy,” Arwen insisted, seizing the Elf-Lord’s hand. “It’s something. Something’s bothering you. Tell me. Maybe you’ll feel better.”

“I’m fine, Undomiel,” Glorfindel said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Really.”

“No, you’re not.”

Glorfindel broke into a real smile, touched by the Elf-maiden’s persistence. Yes, why not tell her? Perhaps he would feel better. He was sure some of Galadriel’s wisdom had seeped into the Elfling through Celebrian, for the child was wise beyond her years. He sat down on his bed, watching as she ungracefully flopped down beside him and wrapped his arm in her own, leaning her head on it.

He sighed. “I was remembering Gondolin.”

Arwen looked up at him in surprise. “But I thought you’d promised not to!” she said accusingly.

“I know. But when you’ve lived something like that, it’s hard to forget it,” he replied, stroking her head with his free hand. “There’s so much I miss…” He closed his eyes. The tears were threatening to come again.

“But you have us now,” Arwen said soothingly, taking his face in her hands. “Me and my brothers, and Ada.” She paused. “And Erestor and Lindir, too.”

Glorfindel’s eyes flew open. She was right. He did have them. He covered her hands with his own. “Thank you, Undomiel.”

The Elfling smiled. “You’re welcome, Glorfy.” She looked at the shadowy room. “But it’s so dark. Why didn’t you light the fire?”

“I would have, but it reminded me too much of the – "

“Don’t,” Arwen commanded, a finger on his lips. “I understand.” She threw her arms around him in a tight hug. “But you don’t have to worry about it now,” she said. “It’s gone. It won’t come back.” She looked up into his deep blue eyes with pride. “You destroyed it, and saved all those people.” Suddenly, she held him tighter. “Don’t cry! Why are you crying?”

He held her head against his shoulder and kissed it. “Because I love you, Undomiel.”

Arwen smiled and rubbed her cheek against his shirt. “I love you too, Glorfy.”