Written for the “Perelleth’s Birthday Challenge” story prompt:  Glorfindel and Elrond meet for the first time…

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This and That

Elrond sat behind his desk, leaning on bent elbows.  He had a tall letter of application propped up in both hands for easy reading...

It was a beautiful day in bay-side Forlond.  Usually at this hour, he would be going about the Kingdom’s business, not his own.  But on this morning, he had come back to the house before attending Council in order to change into attire more suited to the warming day.  He wanted to be comfortable during the impending debate over the new – and what he considered exploitive – trade policy with Celebrimbor’s thriving realm.  Which many insisted should still be called a colony despite the fact that its ruler – its three rulers in actuality – governed Eregion as an independent nation of immigrants.  Bright sunlight streamed through the wide-open windows; carrying with it a pleasant breeze and lending gentle illumination of the application’s pages.  Also on the desk before him was the separation of service documents and the neatly stacked character references, of which there was more than a few.

... he liked what he was reading.  Genuinely skilled officers, such as the tall, golden-haired warrior standing at ease before him, were as ever hard for a smaller establishment such as his to come by.

Usually by the time they reached this level of experience, command officers were already long-time vested members of their Nos.  So when there was no qualified officer within a herth to advance, there was little chance of finding someone from outside the herth to be simply put in place.  Except through a marriage that brought one along or through a calamity that forced one to find new employment.  Since the first condition was unlikely and the second infrequent in this age, Elrond had decided to add membership in the Household to the open officer position in order to attract better-qualified candidates.

This particular applicant was not attached to any House and came from a salaried captaincy in the Court Guard of Eregion.  The warrior had reached the end of his contract, and upon hearing about the inclusive captaincy, took an honorable discharge.  His resume of commendations and completed missions promised more than the required acumen to justify the bonus of membership.

Indeed, Elrond thought the ellon was well qualified to be in the King’s Household Guard.  Glancing over at the personal letters with their crested seals gleaming, he reluctantly considered that possibility.  If it looked to be a better fit, he probably should send the captain on to Gil-galad’s recruiter.  The generous deed would benefit his King and ultimately himself.  Besides garnering him a grateful favor from this suitably-named Glorfindel.  He wondered if the captain had been given the name at birth or had been compelled to take it on, because of constant allusion to the historical hero.

There had been and were other Glorfindels aside from that most famous one.  However, even subsequent to the War, the name still was not so common as to not be remarked upon when encountered.  Elrond did think that he had met none before this one whose appearance came so near to what the hero had looked like.  At least, when put next to the one rare and faded portrait of the Balrog Slayer that he had inherited.  However, at this meeting at least, dandified hair and trendy clothes ruined what would have been an admirable likeness.  He assumed that these affectations were merely miscalculation at appropriate dress for an important interview.  Since professional soldiers normally distained giving much study to civilian fashion.  He refused to believe that this attire was the captain’s usual dress.

“You bear the name of a great hero of Gondolin,” he said perfunctorily, scanning over the letter a second time just to be sure he had not missed any important points.  He spoke thus because it indeed seemed obligatory to mention the fact, especially with his personal connection to the story.  And, he was interested in seeing how the ellon handled the fact being no doubt continually brought up.  The job would go better if the cón had a good temperament, if not a sense of humour.

“His legacy is mine as well,” came back a smooth reply, where a simple acknowledgement was expected.

Surprised by the claim, Elrond looked up over the top edge of the document.  His initial surprise quickly changed to irritation.  Apparently, this fellow was not of the quality he had assumed.

Upon chance seeing this Glorfindel in the atrium, placidly pacing as he was awaiting his turn along with other applicants for this and other positions, Elrond had been instantly impressed.  The ellon had seemed superior to those around him and without any of the outward haughtiness or condescension one might rightly expect from an elite warrior.  It was obvious that he was born in Eldamar, but the Light within him was less diminished than it was for most Amanyar.  Perhaps it was just too subtle a difference for anyone else to perceive, for no one there showed any notice.  Whereas Elrond could hardly ignore it.  So, a cursory glimpse had gotten this candidate a personal interview right off, instead of first being vetted by Herth Chieftain Moeross, as was the set procedure when hiring new swordsmen.  Let alone any that would also become a member of their Household.

Aside from the brightness, Elrond felt that he had gotten to the point where his first impression of a person’s character was hardly ever wrong.  He had let his intuition sway him.  Yet, this latter-day Exile now appeared to be no different from any other of the remaining breed.  He was peeved that he had somehow mistaken arrogance for confidence.

He considered it arrogant that many a noble Noldo had taken to giving their prior station in life more weight than it had originally supported.  If the current aristocracy in the kingdom were considered a new order based upon an older one, then it was understandable why people would take the opportunity to enhance their tenuous affiliations with departed Eldar, who were no longer present to naysay their claims.  Afar kinship was routinely contracted into a close relation, and anonymous proximity into a familiar acquaintance.  He had seen this transformation of status brazenly include the great and famous of those gone, whether Amanyar or Umanyar

There was a military version of this practice as well.  First, one boasted of past service in a notable House.  Then, out came some award of esteem from its Lord or Lady to prove it.  Usually a sword or medallion, which was most likely acquired by barter and not by deed.  Although sometimes, these trophies were directly recovered from a lost treasure trove by adventure.  That kind of trophy he would reckon in the boaster’s favor rather than fault – if they would admit the truth of it.  As it was, inflated accounts had become something that had to be accepted at face value.  A genteel person was not really allowed to condemn exaggeration in this vein as dishonest.  However much one would like to...

In the case of the captain’s claim, there was a significant additional factor, brought in by Elrond.  He had an unspoken admiration for his father’s brave savior, such that even this rather modest boast annoyed him greatly.  The famous Glorfindel had had no wife and no close kin with him.  There was little that this Glorfindel could possibly hold in common with that Glorfindel beyond a passable resemblance.  That the fellow would even dare claim to be a scion of the House of the Golden Flower irked him.

He raised a practiced eyebrow and gave the ellon a look that would have compelled affirmation of the truth or admission of a lie from anyone else.  This Glorfindel however maintained a composed demeanor; looking as sincere as when he had punctiliously handed over his documentation in the prescribed formal manner to his potential lord.

Elrond’s annoyance shifted into wariness, for he now perceived that he had after all been right.  The warrior was not arrogant... but convinced...

“And what legacy is that?” he asked, making an open invitation to brag on so that he might learn more.

“Nossë Turukáno,” was the answer in Quenya, and just as sincere as any answer before it.  “The Family I chose to follow to Endorë and shall always serve.”

Confusion joined Elrond’s wariness.  This Glorfindel was not claiming to be heir to That Glorfindel, but simply a follower of his great-grandfather.  Perhaps the fellow thought that by being a former minion he could extract some kind of patronal obligation from him.  Compel a reinstatement, as it were…

“That House is sadly gone.” he stiffly informed This Glorfindel in Sindarin.  In a show of distancing himself from its owner, he released the application from his fingers to fall flat upon the desk top.  He straightened up, resituating his elbows upon the armrests of his chair, with his hands lightly clasped above his lap; his stiff posture adding emphasis to his displeasure with the captain’s avowal of loyalty.

“How so when you live?”  The question was respectfully asked in Sindarin, but with a hint of challenge.

He was paused.  Again, that feeling of conviction, like a self-proscribed doom, came to him...  Along with the conclusion that it was not the benefit of belonging to a Nos that had brought the ellon here.  This warrior anticipated sacrificing his life for his prince... as had his namesake...  and he was to be that prince...

The thought was unsettling.  Whether the fellow was zany or mad, he knew it would be wiser to simply send him away with no further words.  But... he wanted to keep him.  Yes, the warrior was beyond being acceptably eccentric.  Yet, he would be a valuable asset to any herth.  And it touched his own sense of noble obligation that he was most likely the only person who could give the poor fellow a home where he might find at least some portion of the fulfillment he sought by coming here in the first place.

Still, there was the entire Household to think of.  If the captain reacted violently to the good-natured teasing or mean-spirited pettiness he would certainly be subject to, over what most would see as a childish fantasy about being the new embodiment of a legendary hero...  Ultimately, he and not This Glorfindel would be the one responsible for any hurt done, because he would be the one who had invited the crazy, lethal fighter in.

To be safe, the ellon would have to be under his direct supervision... he could perhaps make a bodyguard out of him.  That could meet several needs, and it should please the fatalistic captain.  Even though, there was small chance that the fellow would need to step in the way of an arrow to save his lord’s life.  The mere sight of this shining warrior next to him would ward off a good number of unwanted encounters.  As well as draw the friendly kind, since the ladies tended to fawn over attractive pets accompanying their masters and would do the same for handsome servants.  Being in constant proximity presented the possibility of becoming friends.  Yes, a bodyguard was the answer.  Nonetheless, he needed to know the captain better before deciding.  And that after all was the purpose of this interview.  So, the first thing he wanted to learn was just how deep was This Glorfindel’s loyalty to Turgon’s bloodline.

“This is the House of Earëndil,” he firmly stated.  “Whom – as you should have known ere you came here – is not the heir of Turgon.  Agnatic circumstances represented most prominently by the crown not upon my head.  Because there were no other male heirs, it went to my forefather’s father’s younger brother, to Finarfin’s line, according to Noldorin custom.  And so from that brother’s son, to his brother, and then from that brother’s son to his son.  If you mean to serve me, you will be serving no King’s heir.  And barely a prince at that.   I am myself but a mere retainer to the rightful King.”

“What I know, my lord, is that a crown is not given to every prince worthy of one.”  The reply came without hesitation or rancor at an obvious test of the firmness of This Glorfindel’s stated loyalty.  “Your lord father is a prince become a hero.  And a greater hero than his own admirable father.  Who was not born a prince, but then became one.  And deservedly so.   They two cared not for crowns, but deeds and duty.  So also it was with your lady mother, whose courage and sacrifice for duty none can deny.”  A soft smile curved the ellon’s lips.  “And so it will be with you.”  The smile left and the sincerity returned.  “And, as you are the last living descendent of the Family to which I pledged my life... ”   He leaned forward, shoulders inclined in respect.  “ ...‘tis you I have come to serve.”

“Might come to serve,” Elrond said pointedly.  “And at my discretion, not at yours.”  As far as he was concerned, This Glorfindel had lost merit by making a smiling prophecy of a shift in what was generally perceived as an unexceptional career.  The captain also seemed to think it was valiant deeds and not crushing sacrifice that would become his prince’s lot… whereas the warrior saw his own lot was to be death... Had Galadriel put this foretelling in the ellon’s head?  Had she steered This Glorfindel to him?  Or had Celeborn?  “Perhaps you are loyal, but not so punctual, I deem.  The War has been over for some time.”

“I beg that circumstances prevented, my lord.”

That sounded oddly true.  But though he was curious to hear the tale of how, unlike with a Nando, it had taken a Noldo so long to report back for duty, there was no further elaboration on the excuse.  And it appeared none was forthcoming.  So, he decided further revelation of the warrior’s temperament might be achieved using the opening created by the unusual praise given Elwing.

“You mention my lady mother, but what know you of that side of my parentage?”

“That you are Elu Thingol’s last living descendent as well.”

“Folly!“  He made a flippant gesture of the hand to indicate his disregard for the notion.  “One may say that only because my brother chose the Edain over the Eldar.  ‘Tis true most people no longer consider him to be our kind.  Nonetheless, Elros’ decision did not remove him from our Family.  Thus, I am not Thingol’s heir either.  That crown also sits not upon my head, but is with my brother’s sons and daughters.  Who are Thingol’s descendents too.”  He leaned forward on his arms.  “Are you really so keen to serve yet another superfluous prince, mahtor?”

His saying ‘mahtor’ instead of ‘maethor’ was purposefully done.  This Glorfindel had marked himself as Caliquendi.  One that had followed a secondary son into cursed exile in Ennor.  Most recently, one that had served for pay under another secondary son.  A lord commander who, although at one time the most influential Sindarin prince in Ennor, was now playing third fiddle; with Galadriel orchestrating and Celebrimbor as conductor.  This Glorfindel may have proven he could obey orders from a proven warrior prince turned functionary.  But now, he would have to stomach being answerable to a half-elven, born-morben secondary son turned civil servant.

The captain’s assured mien was not disturbed by the inferred ignominy of his past service and his present choice.

On one hand, Elrond liked that the warrior remained composed.  He would take it as a sign that the Noldo could keep his temper and bore no great prejudice against Umanyar.  On the other hand, if This Glorfindel had any pride at all, he should be taking umbrage on behalf of his past liege and his past commander.  For one had been a king and the other was an aran.  Both deserved at least a show of respect by the captain for having been their subordinate.

Again, he raised an eyebrow; this time indicating that an answer to his question was not merely wanted but required.

“Portray yourselves however you wish, my lord,” was the reply, accompanied by a slight shrug.  “It did not trouble me to serve the Lady’s Husband; it will not trouble me to serve the Little Lordling.”

Oh, so now his pride was to be tested?  He held back any change to his expression and took a deep breath.  The Little Lordling nickname attached to him had been coined specifically as an insult.  However, it was much less bandied about than the sarcastic scoff to Celeborn’s dignity.  So, the captain was observant of what went on around him as well as quick-minded, although not always diplomatic.  Likely only one of many vexing mannerisms probably learned from the bad example set by all three of Eregion’s rulers.  This asset might just be too annoying to keep around.

Of course, Elrond did not like hearing the cutting epithet that had come from his longtime position as the King’s Standard Bearer, a duty usually given to a notable youth whether common or noble.  And, he had been very young and deserving when first handed the banner.  What bothered him was that his subsequent achievements, of which he was proud for having overcome the obstacles in his way, were methodically discounted.  What was always noted instead were the honors bestowed by a king known to bear a deep affection for his mother.  Over time, he had come to realize, even if he were actually Ereinion and Elwing’s son as had been originally intended, he would receive the same treatment.  His rivals would still think that they had as much a chance at the crown as he.  For he was not another Gil-galad... nor another Earëndil...  Unlike This Glorfindel, he had no wish to be a repeat of his predecessor.

Although like his father, he carried no real rank by right of birth other than the courtesy of being referred to as a prince.  This lack of noble titles was partly because of his refusal to succumb to the same peer pressure that drove others to exaggerate their worth.  And partly because of his parents’ former refugee situation.  And that his older brother had had children.  And then there was the near revolt in Harlindon that had left him without title to that realm...

The realm of Lindon had been the receiver of all the Elven realms of drowned Beleriand, and the aggregate population along with their ruling lords were therefore overwhelmingly of Umanyar descendant.  The Court however was made up of mostly Amanyar and of those, such as Elrond, who had adopted Amanyar ways.  Not a new situation for the powerful Noldorin minority still present, but it was a minority that wanted to run things just as they had in their lost lands: solely to their own liking.  As a result, after the almost violent rejection of the designated prince of Harlindon, the cutthroat politics of the Council, and the on-going abandonment by the disgruntled in favor of the eastern realms, Gil-galad had decided it too dangerous to peace and order and prosperity to replace any departed Sindarin prince with an appointed Noldorin king.  Therefore, there was no crown to be had by any lord of the Kingdom, except the most royal crown.  Which was coveted by factions engaged in the continual effort to change Gil-galad’s mind about eventually naming Elrond his heir.  The most essential plot of each campaign was to marry the King to one of their party.  If they ever allied, their concerted effort would likely get one of them exactly what they all wanted.

Along side these complicating circumstances, in his own mind, Elrond saw his state of affairs as his personal part to be played in the inevitable passing away of all Elven realms.  He was among the few that believed the Eldarin peoples would diminish entirely in the fulfillment of Eru’s bequest of Ennor to the Second-born.  His brother’s joining that race had been the first significant stride in the slow march towards the final outcome.  Furthermore, he was the younger brother, who would never have inherited sovereignty anyway.  Although, being a younger sibling had never seemed a legitimate limitation to the Elmoi...  Nevertheless, he was not one of them all when the northrim existed, and he would never become one retroactively.  He did not regret pledging to Gil-galad rather than Celeborn... or Elros...  

Suddenly, he was curious.  It appeared that This Glorfindel had also detached himself from his own family’s future to join in another family’s fortunes.  Doing so was the least honorable option their society allowed to younger sons, who were expected to always support their eldest brother.

“Are you yourself a younger son?” he asked, unconsciously seeking affinity.

The captain appeared slightly disconcerted by the shift in focus and did not quickly answer.

In that momentary silence, Elrond clearly heard the faint rustle of secrets being gathered in with the determination not to disclose them through careless words.  Being privy to sensitive knowledge concerning a superior was a responsibility that could easily cause a soldier to be wary of personal questions.  The captain’s hesitation showed that he was capable of keeping confidences, although deficient in the ability to completely hide the effort.

But, Elrond was sure he already knew what it was about This Glorfindel’s former employers the captain would never tell: Celeborn was up to his old tricks.

When they left Harlindon, Galadriel and Celeborn did not sail to Eldamar, but like thousands before them, they disappeared with their Galadhrim into eastern lands.  They had joined their foster-son, Amdir, and his family in Lorinand.  Something not known til much later.  Everyone in Lindon had thought them gone; as gone as the Elmoi clan, which was no more.  Much later, reports arrived telling of a political shift occurring amongst the Lindarin people that dwelt along the course of the Anduin.  He had suspected right then that the Lord and Lady were involved.  Now, once there had been only the traditional array of native arans, there were two new Kingdoms; each composed of several tribes ruled over by former Sindarin Elmoi.  A change in government that would never have come about naturally, in his estimation.  These days, Celeborn, as ever bent on unification, and Galadriel, his powerful partner in everything, were in Eregion shoring up Celebrimbor’s rule.  Clearly, they meant to make another Sindarin kingdom out of Eregion.  They would have a crown for their daughter; if not by marriage then by default.  The very mode by which he himself would inherit a crown.

“No, my lord,” an answer finally came from This Glorfindel. “I am the eldest.”  But, not the one expected.  “I wished for more adventure then life at home offered me.  So, through a friend’s connection with the daughter of one of Queen Indis’ ladies, I joined the entourage of the then youthful Turgon.”

“Where was your birthplace”?  After he had asked, he realized he had used the past tense.  When for an Exile, the place should be still in the light of day and not underwater.

“I was born on the Holy Mountain.”

“You are Vanyar?  I would not have guessed.”  As a people, the Vanyar were considered neither vain nor violent.  They saw their part in the War as instruments of justice, not as warriors.  “And you left it for a younger brother to take up your slack?”   Which was somewhat how he felt about his own situation.

“My older sister’s husband.”  His pointing out to This Glorfindel the he was not the shining example of what most people expected in a Vanya did not much ruffle the ellon.  Nevertheless, like Elrond, he had chose to live according to Noldorin customs.  Therefore, he should have stayed to support his father and expect support from any younger brothers.  “My lord, I was very properly raised, and I would never abandon my familial duty.  I turned it over to someone dependable and more suited.  He has done well, and I have no remorse over the decision.”  That appeared to be the truth.  The captain was at ease with all he had ever done.  “I have seen how unwise it can be to over-value the eldest male child at the expense of other sons and especially of daughters.”

“That is a rather Sindarin viewpoint.”  Not a comment a Noldo would like to hear, Elrond knew.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”  This Glorfindel’s face lightened up, appearing suddenly amused by the admission.  “But on the matter of adopted points of view, I wish to say that I would welcome living in a Noldorin household once more.  Ost-in-Edhil’s stew of customs is not unsavory fare, but it does not always appeal to my taste.”

“You may thank a Feanorean for this Noldorin houshold.”  That was said so he could then ask, “Can you do that as easily as you can salute one of Elmo’s Children?”  He had to know, since it would be stupid to invite constant discomfiture, were This Glorfindel to become his bodyguard and every day within his hearing denigrate Maglor and his kin.

Nowadays, Umanyar and Amanyar alike refused to speak kindly of the Feanoreans.  Elrond suffered a twinge inside every time his mere presence sparked a chorus of bitter condemnation for the Kinslayers.  He had been well-cared for by his warden.  Treated like a son, never like a hostage or captive, with more love than in his memories of his actual father.  It was just as well that no one ever sought the true reason why he did not join in their derision.  Snide epithets such as Little Lordling could smart, but they fizzled out quickly compared to the burning emotional dissonance created by his childhood experiences.  He did not need any more fuel thrown on that fire.

“My lord, if I ever meet the Feanorean that safeguarded your life, I shall certainly give him my thanks and show him the same kindness he did show you.”

With that answer, This Glorfindel won back some of the merit he had lost.  Seeing that the captain was capable of compassion, Elrond felt much more at ease about maybe keeping him.  The warrior’s reserved countenance was not hiding a merciless soldier.

Pleased with the progress made so far, he picked up the reference letters, and began to go through them one by one.  The seals he did not break, but carefully pared off the parchments with a sharp blade in order to save them for his growing collection.  All comments were favorable.  Some authors held flattering opinions; others reiterated their gratitude for some brave deed.  Not unpredictably, none found fault with the dashing captain.

The stamp on Galadriel’s letter was as florid as her speech.  Her recommendation though was not exactly personal; it could have been for any officer of this rank with whom she interacted regularly on business.  She did send Elrond her personal greetings and well-wishes.  Also, the assurance that This Glorfindel was not a spy.  He had not gotten to that matter yet, thinking to leave it till last, when he was certain he would have the captain stay.  But, here was the opportunity to get it out of the way early.

“The Lady Galadriel tells me you are not a spy.  It is kind of her to alleviate that concern.”

“The Lord and Lady understand that I am naught but a soldier.  I appreciate the need for such agents, however I do not consider covert assignments a part of my duty to any superior.

“Courageous soldiery is the extent of duty I too would ask of you.”

“Thank you, my lord, for your assurance.”

He saw that the letters were alike in another way.  There were comparisons of This Glorfindel to That Glorfindel, but none said outright that the living warrior was the same or better than the dead one.  That seemed a bit odd in the face of the ellon’s surety of a similar fate...  Had no one noticed that about him?

There were unanticipated letters from Celebrian and Elrovail, which he was pleased to have.  For their seals were new to his collection and quite lovely.  The last of the stack was from Celebrimbor, whose words were the most personable.  He recommended the captain whole-heartedly, as was normal for his generous nature, even when the fellow was a mere acquaintance from his time in Gondolin.

There was no letter from Celeborn.  And that was more than a bit odd.  He checked the separation papers, but neither was there a perfunctory termination letter from the Lord as This Glorfindel’s commander.  There should have been something...  In truth, he wanted a letter, for it would contain not just a litany of virtues, but of significant faults.   Along with, of course, advice.  Whether that was urging trust or suggesting caution or simply to lecture on the proper placement of outsiders in a herth.

“There is no letter from Lord Celeborn... “ he said to This Glorfindel, mystified.

“You expected one?”  The captain was genuinely surprised.  “Is there not a grudge between you?”

“Once again, you mistake me for the King.”  He was not pleased by this presumption.  It was too reminiscent of Hrassa’s overriding attitude.  Admittedly, he had harbored a good deal of resentment towards the Lord; held over from particular chapters of his childhood and youth.  But, those bad feeling had been reconciled at Elros’ funeral.  Knowing This Glorfindel was coming here, Celeborn would have written to him, just as had Galadriel.  He cast an icy eye upon the captain.  “Was there a letter?”

A look of a faux innocence that forebode prevarication fell over This Glorfindel’s face.  Not unlike a lad caught in the kitchen, hiding a snitched pastry behind his back.  Strangely enough, the juvenile reaction to getting caught dispelled Elrond’s remaining reservations.  The ellon’s true personality had come out into view, where before they had been conversing through a closed door.

The captain himself realized that he had unthinkingly opened up, and that it was foolish to rush back inside.  He smiled and shrugged; a bit chagrined but in a way glad that he did not to have to be so guarded anymore.  With a slightly petulant sigh, he pulled out a thick square of parchment from inside his jacket.  The long ends of the sealed letter had been bent over the middle to make it more compact.  He straightened out the ends and held it in his two hands like an offering, although he made no motion to bring it over.

“Are you worried what it will say?”  Elrond asked, carefully watching This Glorfindel’s response to the question.

“No... “  But, the fellow did look a little worried.  So, he gave him an understanding smile.  They both knew just how barbed Celeborn could be.  “You see,” This Glorfindel hesitatingly continued, “we made a wager.  I, that you would not expect a letter; he, that you would have it or not take me in.”  He sketched an apologetic bow.  “Please pardon my presumption, my lord.”

“By ‘we’, you do mean Lord Celeborn and you?”  Such a bet indicated there was a greater degree of comradeship between them than he had assumed.

“Yes... ”  The captain’s slim smile widened to a grin, and he became much more likable than when wearing a serious or sincere expression.  “Side wagers were made too.  The Herth strives to find adventure in everything, and the Lord leads the way, as we like to say.”

“Well, if you become one of the ‘we’ of this Herth, you will cease making ridiculous wagers.  Unlike Celeborn, I do not approve of gambling.”  He smiled wide in return.  “Only because I tend to lose.”   He held out a hand to receive the letter.    “Please... “ 

This Glorfindel promptly stepped forward and placed it in his hand.

“I am surprised you even thought to bet against him,” he said, as he picked up the paring knife.  “You should know the odds are more likely with him than against.”   And when they are not with him, he will change them...  He recalled a rare moment of admiration by Gil-galad when the King claimed his Uncle could draw rain from a cloudless sky and luck from misfortune.  The elegant seal on the Lord’s letter had warped from body heat.  Disappointing since it was a new design, probably just issued.  Still, he carefully skimmed it off.  A moment on a warm plate should salvage it.

The letter itself was a standard letter of separation.  However, between the impersonal salutations to whom it may concern and the authorized closings, there was naught but one line; written by Celeborn’s own hand, which Elrond immediately recognized.  He read the line, then looked up at This Glorfindel befuddled.  Read the line again, and burst out laughing; any decorum utterly flown.

“So!  Your friend with connections to a lady in Indis’ retinue was yourself,” he cheerily accused.  “Oh, and the fortune-hunter rumored to be *ahem* stealing kisses from the heiress of Nos Galadhad as well!”

“What?”  This Glorfindel was flabbergasted for a moment, and then blushed deeply.  “Surely, he did not write about that!”  The name the captain growled under his breath in clear reference to Celeborn would have no doubt caused the ladies alluded to scold him severely for his vulgar language and lack of respect.  “I have stolen no kisses!  Not from any lady!  Ever!”

“I am sure you have never had to!”   He simply could not stop laughing!  The poor ellon had been so well played for a fool!

“Franuilos!  He did said his winnings would be telling of me that which I would not have told!  But, I did not expect it to be that I have kissed a lady!  Whoever would be so carelessly of their own daughter’s reputation?!”

“No, no, that is not what he wrote!  Indeed, Celeborn would never do so,” Elrond assured the upset warrior, forcing himself to calm his mirth.  This joke was not funny to the captain.  “No deeds nor names are even mentioned.  I only surmised on the advice he gave.  Which for once was not a long lecture!  Just delightfully short and to the point!”  He once more had to stifle his laughter and forcibly straighten his face.  Leveling his head, he looked seriously at This Glorfindel.  “In her letter, the princess does call you her good friend.  Just so there is no further misunderstanding about this matter... “  In anticipation of what he was going to ask, the captain nodded in assent.  “Please, I bid you to tell me truthfully.  Were you more than friends?”

“No!  There is no more than a fraternal affection between the princess and myself.  I have answered, and there will be no discuss of this subject ever again.  If that demand makes it impossible for you to offer me the position, I understand.”

“On the contrary, Cón, your indignation clenches it.  There is indeed a place for you in this Household.  If you still wish to be one of us.”

“I do, my lord.  However, I ... “  The captain took a deep breath to settle himself, then resolutely said, “If any speaks disrespectfully of Lady Celebrian, I will silence them.  Even if that person be my prince.”

“I would be justly chastised.  Please accept my apology for my earlier remarks.  Yet, I am glad for this consternation.  I think now that we might become good friends.  As long as you refrain from calling me: my prince.”

This Glorfindel looked astonished.

Elrond mocked his expression, then raised his eyebrows; prompting him for an explanation.

“I am surprised, my lord, because I was advised to be myself and all would go very well.  I thought that meant showing you my dedication, where I see now it was my heart.”

“Eldarin counsel can interestingly ambiguous, can it not?  Even without meaning to be.  Indeed, this interview has gone well.  Your extraordinary virtues have been pointed out by people whose opinions I respect.  I appreciate their aid in seeing you at your best, but I am just as grateful that at least one of those persons has let me know you possess normal flaws and not extraordinary ones.”  He looked the captain straight in the eye.  “You are not only a good officer, you are a good person.  I would like you to accept the position, Cón Glorfindel.”

“I am very pleased to accept, Lord Elrond,” the warrior said with a deferential bow.

“Good!  See,” he smiled benevolently, “we are both very pleased you are joining the Household.  I think you shall make a brilliant bodyguard.  I look forward to having you by my side.”

“Bodyguard?”  This Glorfindel was again startled.  No doubt, as a new member, he had anticipated having to work his way up; pay some dues so to speak, before being given significant responsibilities.   “My lord, it would by an honor and a privilege, but – ”

“But first, you will indeed have to earn my inordinate trust.  And your first test begins now.  I am charging you with a delicate Household matter.”

This Glorfindel nodded, committed ere he even knew what would be required of him.

“From now on, you will keep to yourself this notion of yours that you are the return of That Glorfindel.”

“That Glorfindel?  Oh, you mean that Glorfindel... “  The captain’s brow lowered. “The Lord told of that in his letter?”

“No, as I said, you are not even mentioned.  I learned this from you, and I know it would attract ridicule if a member of this Household were to make the outrageous claim that he is the mystical re-embodiment of the Balrog Slayer that saved my father.  Believe me when I say, your life is your own.  With your own destiny, not bound by any numinous circumstances to be a repeat of another’s.  Celeborn is not the only one in this world who has a chance of beating out Fate.  I will help you to be free of That Glorfindel’s doom.”

This Glorfindel stood there, stunned.

“Are you at least willing to try?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord... ”  The warrior mutedly replied, then suddenly smiled – literally brightening before Elronds eyes.  “That Glorfindel was someone with whom I was once well-acquainted.  But, I am no more.”  He straightened to attention.  “ As my Lord commands.  That Glorfindel belongs to history and legend.  I am This Glorfindel, born to do whatever it is that I am meant to do.”

“Close enough.  We will work on it.”  He rose to his feet, leaving the paperwork to be straightened up by his clerk.  Although, he did pick up Celeborn’s letter, refold it, and slip it inside a pocket.  It was not really an official letter, and it should not be kept with the rest.  “Come, let us go into the house proper and start getting you settling in.”  This Glorfindel… now his Glorfindel... cleared his throat in askance.  He looked up and nodded his permission to speak freely.

“Exactly what did Celeborn write?” Glorfindel ventured to inquire.

“Lock up your daughters.”

- *~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* -

Author Notes:

All Elven words are in Sindarin unless indicated otherwise. Underlined means constructed by me.

The events of this story take place around 1250 – Second Age.

As a result of trade, the Númenoreans have made a permanent settlement upriver from Vinyalondë (their haven at the mouth of the Gwathlo) on the border of Eregion.  This settlement becomes the crossroads city of Tharbad.  I think this would have been the likely route for Glorfindel to quietly return to Middle-earth, and go looking for some friends to help him out on his new mission.  He had never met Gil-Galad.  Cirdan probably not either.  And Lindon might have a more than a frew people that would know him on sight.  He might have been acquainted with Celebrimbor and possibly Galadriel.  I say ‘quietly return’, because we have only the incident at the time of the war with the Witch King of Angmar to show that the legendary Glorfindel might have come back.  Some like to speculate that he arrived with the five wizards.  I kinda like to think of him having arrived prior to them and on his own.  A credible eye-witness engaged in a sort of boots-on-the-ground reconnaissance, having something to do with the Valar even considering sending in a special strikeforce of Maiar.

A disguised Sauron has yet to come to Forlindon, the capital city of Lindon, where he will be refused entrée by Gil-Galad.  He has already established his realm of Mordor, where some four centuries from the time of this story, he will return to forge the One Ring.

maethor – warrior

mahtar – warrior  Quenya

cón – captain, commanding officer

morben/calben – mor-pen/cal-pen, dark person/light person, Moriquendë/Caliquendë (can be used as an adjective form like human)

nos – a family or household

nothrim – members of a household or a clan

aran – king(also translates as ‘Lord’ for it means the ruler of a realm, not just royalty)

ellon – male elf