𝗔𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗿 | LOTR & Marvel Crossover [PART 1] ✓

15 | Flight of the Ford: A Remix

Even if his heart still ached at the sound of the doors shutting in front of him.

Whilst he strapped the pack upon Asfaloth's saddle, Glorfindel glanced down to her and grinned, "I guess I do have my moment to shine in this reality, nésa."

His dearest equestrian companion had completely been ecstatic the moment he spotted him to enter the stables.

Not to mention Illyria with Nala, who was also now a part of the valley's horses. He laughed at his sister's reunion with her companion, seeing her conjure an apple as she brushed her hand over Nala's nose. Unfortunately, their reason to be in the stables wasn't solely for Illyria missing her horse for the past two and half years.

Once they arrived outside, elves going about in their usual work, some glanced and greeted them before they walked away.

As he finished his preparations, he heard Illyria tell him: "Just please don't die again. Erestor's going to have my neck if you come back dead." She voiced a concern to him, "And please say you made up to some extent. Háno?"

He paused at what he was doing and heard his chest heave.

Glorfindel sighed, "It is...it is taking some time." He held the reigns and added, "Hopefully after the meeting, we will have some time to speak of it again."

Once he hopped onto the saddle, he shifted his body to his comfort. It has been quite some time since he had ridden. Time in the Halls felt much longer than he expected it to be.

He glanced down to where his sister stood, her hands reaching to brush Asfaloth's head.

Illyria spoke, "At this rate, with the world ending times like this might be hard." She smiled at the horse and said, "Take good care of him, Asfaloth."

The horse gave a soft neigh as his sister patted Asfaloth's neck.

He straightened his back, he murmured down to his companion.

"Let us go, friend." Glorfindel told him, "We have a hobbit to rescue."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Riding fast on a horse had been a fresh reliever to him. Having experienced those fast metal boxes which humans (what Illyria called the race of men in their world) drove could not compare the feeling of horseback through the great plains of the moors towards the forest woodland where the Trollshaws were.

However, as the days passed, to which he needed to pay attention to the stars even more than before, Glorfindel could sense a shifting change in the air. (He had to thank his sister for having a clear gift in reading constellations, centuries spent constantly updating maps for everybody to use.)

For once, he felt the stars almost dim, with Gil-Estel almost looking eerily waning. Or perhaps it was just his mind noting of the change.

But the stars themselves had made his heart tighten in worry, thinking out loud in the passing moments as he called out to her, wondering if she could even hear him now.

'My lady...Varda Elentári,' Glorfindel thought to the night sky one evening. 'May you hear and listen to my voice to where you sit and see me. Please forgive me for what I have committed and of those who left the Halls under Mandos - for I did so to help her. To help her be guided towards her path, may it be into darkness. I shall still follow her even if you do not hear my plea.'

He waited.

No word or utter filled his mind and he felt his heart sink slightly.

It had been millennia since he encountered the Vala, recalling the small title he wore that had never been heard other than a few.