15 | Flight of the Ford: A Remix
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Glorfindel | The Balrog Slayer
Location: Imladris, Middle Earth, Arda
Time: October 2980 T.A
His sister had found him just outside the library, hands clenching the bannister of the balcony. Luckily, she arrived the moment Erestor had left him once more. Though at least this time it hadn't been anything harsh of his words.
Glorfindel truly did make a mess of seeing him again. He had been so dumbfounded, in awe at the feeling of his own fëa and heart that no words could come out of his mouth.
And then he was as stupid as any dull orc and spoke the worst possible words.
A hello.
Why in all Arda did he choose that?
So, after chasing after the elf (and being shushed by about every elf in the room), Erestor had enough and dragged him just outside the library and allowed him to speak. And thus, Glorfindel did.
He explained all he could, simplifying and yet including the important parts that he wasn't sure if Erestor had understood half of what he said. He had rambled almost like his sister that Erestor had stopped him, demanding to simply speak what he had wanted to say to him.
But what was he supposed to say?
That he was undoubtfully pouring his heart to him? Perhaps not a good thing to say after shocking him after thirty-nine years.
Instead, he expressed his care for him. That Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower cared deeply for Erestor of Rivendell.
Erestor had frozen the moment he confessed and he regretted it instantly.
Did he do it wrong?
He had said nothing, only to silently nod before he sighed and told him he needed some time.
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"Please speak," He pleaded. "I do not know what you feel of this. Of us."
Erestor sighed and looked away. "And that is the reason for it." He revealed, "I do not know how to feel about this. You...your departure affected me. And I need some time. Some space to breathe."
He opened his mouth but was silenced by the Noldorin's flashing eyes.
"I know what you are about to say. That you will give me time." He replied. "But care for your actions, Glorfindel. You know what is to come and you know time is more than just that."
They stared at one another before Erestor broke their trance and bid his farewell back into the library.
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Glorfindel was then left alone in the hallway feeling numb and completely unsure. There was obviously a part in him that always kept hopeful, assuming that the Noldorin elf clearly needed the time to comprehend everything that was happening. It was dark times indeed, and their priorities were too focused on the darkness ahead.
It was why when Illyria asked him for a favour – Glorfindel accepted it.
For now, he would take his mind off and focus on the task ahead.
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."
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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.
Even if she did not hear him, he pushed on.
West, he went, sensing more than just his elf eyes and ears but something even more peculiar. He began sensing it the moment he woke up in Kamar-Taj, seeing the unfamiliar aura around the room he found himself before arriving at Illyria's with more confusion.
He hadn't spoken of it to any of them other than Illyria's mother herself. Darcy Lewis was very much the person he expected from the stories Illyria spoke to him about. Perhaps even more. Not only she had been so open and welcoming to him and Elrond: she had allowed their customs and accepted it freely.
Never had he found humans in the spec of those in Middle Earth to be like Darcy Lewis at all. But then again, she was no ordinary human being. And her empath abilities extended her to be even more perceptive than elves.
Therefore, even if he acknowledged the odd translucent auras around him: Glorfindel was still not accustomed to sensing them at a great range.
Though as the astrophysicist said: it was not entirely sensing things physically. It was an instinct.
So, the moment he diverted from the road towards the mumbling of voices and trees rustling, Glorfindel slowed Asfaloth into a walk as he saw them.
He already felt the back of his mind, a dark sickly shadow enveloping one of the halflings (hobbits). But his focus had been the arrows pointed straight at him as all heads turned to him with a mix of shock and awe.
Though as his eyes laid to the two identical faces, his chest heaved high as he smiled – tears springing in the corner of his eyes. He hopped down from Asfaloth, muttering a thank you in Sindarin before approaching the group.
The first one stepped forward, lowering their defensive stance as they asked aloud, "Uncle?"
Elrohir's jaw dropped as he stammered, "But we saw you..."
Elladan simply looked at him, shocked with a hint of sharpness in him. His nephews clearly were expecting their sister to arrive instead. Of course, Illyria (and definitely Elrond) would never allow their daughter to do this task.
With a wide grin, he finally reached out to place both hands in either of their shoulders. Both twins began to ask how it was possible for him to be back, questions bombarding his mind before he only let go and held his palm out.
Glorfindel simply said, smiling. "I've died once, I believe I can come back to life again."
When he looked to the rest of the party of travellers, he glanced down to find two recognizable faces he had not seen in quite some time. With a solemn expression, he nodded his head and greeted them, "Master Thorin, Master Bilbo."
Thirty-nine years may be a blink in the lifespan of the Eldar, but it was perhaps enough for Thorin Oakenshield. Even under such low lighting, the moonlight showed the shimmer of silver in his hair whilst his beard was full and grey.
Though beside him had Glorfindel hide the surprise in his eyes. Bilbo Baggins looked no older than the last time he saw him. His face marked nothing but an aura of stagnation and magic. A symptom from the ring perhaps. His green eyes staring at him before it glanced back to the young hobbit with dark curly hair.
"Lord Glorfindel..." Thorin Oakenshield trailed off before he spoke in his low rumbling voice, "Last time we saw you - you were buried in Ravenhill."
Glorfindel nodded, remembering his sister mentioning the little grave they gave him as well as the one in Oxford. He replied, "My body is still there. Now, this is something Illyria has spoken of. And what of your companions."
When he expected to sense the trouble lingering in Thorin's intended, Glorfindel instead heard Bilbo Baggins speak with a plea.
"My nephew." His voice cracked as he added, "Please, he was stabbed."
The hobbit who was being held up by both Thorin and Bilbo was the one he looked down next.
Glorfindel suddenly felt the shadow grow around them.
His eyes quickly diverted to where the twins stood, noticing the object in Elladan's hands – wrapped carefully in cloth.
Once he pried the cloth from the top, Glorfindel's breath hitched as he murmured, "A Morgul blade..." He gave the twins a look and thought, 'Since when?'
It was Elladan who spoke first sternly, 'The Nine ambushed us at Amon Sûl. We've travelled for over a day. He will not last with the supplies we have.'
'Our healing is not as strong as Adar's. Nor Naneth's,' Elrohir continued whilst Elladan passed the carefully wrapped weapon into his hands.
Glorfindel felt the dark infested weapon as soon as it touched his skin, and he did as he could to place it in his pack. He, Elrond, Illyria and Erestor (and perhaps Maedhros) would have to investigate any means in trying to decipher the dark weapon the Nazgul used.
He returned to them away from Asfaloth's side as he sent a thought to the twins, 'The nine have also split up.'
Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other.
Glorfindel told them all, "There are five behind us; where the other four may be, I do not know. I could only hope that the Ford is safe to pass for we have known of your whereabouts. We have prepared enough."
He could only hope they did. From what Illyria explained to him (which was unhelpfully brief): Elrond and Maedhros would be waiting just across the River Bruinen.
"I shall go with your nephew, Bilbo Baggins," He insisted.
He was then met with protest, with the younger four hobbits looking angrily as the dark-haired one cried out in a mix of panic and pain. "No! I cannot abandon them! They are my friends."
Glorfindel looked merely at the young hobbit, seeing the whitening of his skin as he lowered himself down. With his hands, he hovered over to Bilbo's nephew's shoulder and began to mutter over the wrapped wound. A simple spell would do as much to keep him awake until Elrond could heal him.
When he stood back up, he noticed the shadow around the halfling to have stopped spreading – an indication that the elven spell at least stopped his hröa from continuing to pass.
But it won't be enough.
He turned over to the twins, and they explained to the younger hobbits, Thorin and Bilbo: that their friend and nephew would be safer if he would come with him. Whilst the youngest looking ones were silently agreeing, the one with the reddish-brown hair had looked more conflicted before Glorfindel turned his gaze to the youngest.
"Need no fear, Samwise Gamgee," He was thankful that he remembered that name from the notes Illyria gave him. "He shall be safe with me. Asfaloth shall not allow any rider to fall unless in my command."
All eyes (even his nephews) widened whilst Samwise Gamgee looked like his jaw was about to fall. Glorfindel only stared back, internally smiling at them before he brought Bilbo's nephew up to the saddle and adjusted himself.
In his pack, Illyria and Miriel had given enough dried fruit and some load of bread for them (but they did not expect the extra four mouths to feed). He had also given them a portion from his flask, a liquor that will aid the rest in their journey towards Rivendell.
Before he could tell Asfaloth where they were going, he heard Elrohir ask: "Uncle, has Naneth returned?"
Glorfindel looked down at them. They were eyes that had longed been seen in children.
Children who wanted to see their mother with hope.
He shared a glint of a smile, hinting to them as he answered: "You will see her once you get there. I will divert as much as I could." Glorfindel instructed, moving the reigns as he held the hobbit tightly, "Come Asfaloth, we must ride swiftly!"
Following his command, he was pulled back as Asfaloth galloped down the Great East Road and towards the valley.
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They rode as fast as they could, never stopping unless the hobbit had a need to drink or eat at least. The longer they travelled, Glorfindel began to see that the healing spell was not sustaining the young halfling's wounds. Even the healing balms Illyria had given weren't stopping the shadow growing into his greying face.
It was when they arrived at the edge of the forests and into the great plains was when he perceived them.
Even before hearing the galloping of hooves and the screeching of their voices, Glorfindel cried to Asfaloth to ride faster.
There and then: his ears finally heard them.
Five of the Nazgul trailed behind them, dodging, and wading through the sea of pine trees. Their auras almost too drowning for his senses hadn't he blinked twice and snarled mentally. He would not allow his new abilities to pull him down, tightening his hold against the hobbit's torso as he prayed once more to Elbereth.
Asfaloth neighed, increasing his speed as he felt them gaining closer to them. He ducked as branches were in their path, leading them over leaping rocks and overcrop before seeing the open plains of grass.
The moon and stars shone above them, hearing the howling winds as they hit his face. As he glanced back for a fracture of a second – Glorfindel's breath was taken away.
Light green auras lit up around the black-cloaked figures as they road the horses, their faces haunted like they were melting slowly. Their hands raised, holding their blades high against the beat of the night as they formed a V-shape formation as they chased them.
Glorfindel then heard more screeching, sensing the last four arrive at the same time from either side as they galloped over. The small figure in front of him made a lurching sound, wheezing in as he felt them beginning to slip.
He thought to the halfling, 'We are almost there, little one. Noro lim, Asfaloth!' [1]
As if his equestrian friend heard him, Asfaloth continued and did not show any fear from the nine figures which chased them.
They finally arrived, evident by the growing beech and pines trees as Glorfindel felt the barrier of the valley gain closer. Once they crossed down towards the descending path, the Ford of Bruinen appeared in his sight and he spotted no sign of the two elves.
Where were they?
Glorfindel could truly sense them almost at his neck, their aura almost curling around him until he finally mentally inhaled and narrowed his gaze at the shallow path of the river.
He didn't need to look behind him as he told Asfaloth to cross, hearing the splashing and feeling of the water up to his legs. Once he turned around, he noticed that the horses of the Nine had yet to cross. They were afraid of the water.
As the horses protested, he saw the spirits of the Nine flail in anger at their ride before screeching in a high pitch tune that deafened his ears. One thing he should have noted to bring was perhaps some of those small soft plugs which you could put in your ears.
"Give us the halfling!"
They shrieked in anger at him., their voice deadly and sharp in his ears.
"Give us the Ring!"
He narrowed his eyes at them, flaring his nostrils as he tucked the small frame into his chest. Glorfindel rose his chin up high and proclaimed to them, "By Elbereth Gilthoniel, you have neither the Ring nor him!"
The leader of the Nine rose their hand at him, their face showing a menacing expression that had him ground his teeth. They forced the horses over to the Ford making Glorfindel's heart skip a beat.
When they arrived in the middle: the Nazgul halted.
They looked at him, even more so as he heard familiar hissing.
Golden sparks erupted from the air as the portal opened just a few feet away from them, large enough as both Elrond and Maedhros arrived prepared in case of the attack.
Already, Elrond rushed towards the front of the river.
Suddenly, there was a sudden rumble coming from upstream. A storm of white erupted, rushing towards the group of wraiths. The waters rose, forcing Glorfindel to blink away at the tremendous change before he ushered Asfaloth to pass through the golden gateway.
As arrived at the front entrance of the house Glorfindel quickly removed himself off before cradling the light hobbit in his arms. When his hand pressed over the hobbit's cheek, the cold touch had sent him hurrying before he could assume both Maedhros and Elrond were alright.
Instead, as he rounded to where the healing halls were – he already spotted both Arwen and Illyria striding towards him.
There was a bed ready for him, the young halfling's eyes closed as Glorfindel placed him down gently. As soon as he pulled away, there was dead silence.
"That is not Bilbo Baggins."
Illyria's deadpanned voice, quiet and yet frightening, cut the stillness in the air.
Taking a deep breath, he turned to where his sister stood, close enough to look at the features of the hobbit that was not Illyria's dearest friend.
Glorfindel spoke, "It is not."
They only stared down at the hobbit in worry, fear creeping slowly in their minds as Frodo Baggins lay in front of them.
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[1] - Noro lim: Sindarin. "Run fast."
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A/N: And Glorfindel finally gets his dreams in doing this one specific scene. As much as I fell in love with Arwen in the movies, our blonde elf needs the love right now. Also, Arwen is going to get plenty of good girlboss scenes in the future parts. ;)
Anddd ahhhhh we finally get the OG gang getting back together! :) I'm so excited to integrate them into the story.
Edited: 12/02/2022