tanaquiljall

elena_tiriel was prodding me to put together a Glorfindel series for the MEFAs, and we both independently realised that it needed another drabble. So this was born (proving my drabble muse is no longer completely exhausted!):

as part of the An Elf-lord Revealed series.

Recalling

Fëa from Ost-in-Edhil, jostling in the Halls of Mandos, were greeted by kin who had gone before. But Celebrimbor the silver-handed, sorrowing at the evil he had wrought, turned away from those who would claim him and went rather to speak with his cousins, the sons of Fingolfin.

Glorfindel, standing at his king's side, heard of the peril of Turgon's great-grandson, and grieved.

As the slow-running days of the Blessed Land succeeded, more news came of battle, retreat, refuge. Glorfindel's heart flamed with desire to tread again the mortal earth and aid and guard this last of his lord's line.

A follow up to yesterday's The Hand of History. Because, really, rakshathedemon shouldn't be allowed to post lists like this that get my muse all antsy....

Day 351

Favours

"Forgive me! I fear I have overstepped the mark." A troubled look marred Glorfindel’s fair Elven features.

"Nay," Faramir reassured him. "’Tis simply that when you spoke of a favour, I did not expect this."

"I heard Lord Boromir laud your prowess more than once while he guested in Imladris," the other explained.

Faramir smiled ruefully. "He flattered me, I think. There are others more skilled than I who would better suit your purpose. If you wish, I will arrange it."

"That would be a kindness. Yet I hope I may still hear you sing one of the Rangers’ songs."


(You don't know how tempted I was by the Toasted Marshmallows...!)

elena_tiriel asked for something about Glorfindel and the Halls of Mandos.

Day 266

as part of the An Elf-lord Revealed series.

Halls of the Houseless

Waking, he looked down at himself, puzzled. He had been wounded, that much he knew. But he thought his injuries had been different to the hurts he now bore.

He sat up gingerly and examined himself. His bare skin was unmarked: where he had expected to see a fine tracery of scars – some old and faded, others still new and angry – there was nothing. Instead, the ache in every muscle, sinew, tendon, bone pained him.

It was as if some enemy had rained down blow after blow upon his very spirit....

Ai!

Memory returned: his King, his City, his people....

gwynnyd asked for Gandalf and Glorfindel comparing notes on slaying balrogs.

Day 196

as part of the An Elf-lord Revealed series.

Comparing Notes

"Elrond tells me you faced a balrog." Glorfindel's tone was light but curious as they paced the gardens of the Houses of Healing.

Gandalf nodded. "In Moria."

"I found mine quite... tenacious."

Gandalf's brows beetled. "That would be one word for it!"

"Did you grapple at close quarters?" Glorfindel idly examined the golden flowers on a low-growing shrub.

"Too close for comfort! But I had no need to wrestle." Gandalf smiled grimly at the memory. "I held onto my sword."

"Ah." Glorfindel grinned suddenly. "I am sure Elrond's great-grand-sire will be pleased to hear his blade tasted balrog blood again."