Lady Galadriel had not answered him.
Had not promised she would warn them, but hadn't told him that she would not. And Glorfindel had no doubt the blood-shedding had begun. No doubt that Arien was in danger. Might already be dead.
The young Taurhelim queen was like a daughter to him. He loved her, and knew he could not bear it if she died. And he would find a way. He'd find a way to stop it, to save her.
Glorfindel stepped forward, pleading.
"You must listen to me," he said. "We cannot abandon them."
But the elf queen shook her head.
"It is their own choice," she said quietly. "Their own choice to march to their deaths. And by choosing that course they have determined their fate. It is now their destiny to enter Moria."
Glorfindel kept a tight rein on his features as he argued
"It is not their fate to be abandoned by elves. We cannot forsake them. We must at least warn them of what awaits. For Arien."
Celeborn lifted his head, and there was annoyance, impatience, on his face as he said
"You are the only one who cares enough about her to help. You are the only one who would come to us for aid."
Glorfindel felt his control slip. "Elrond would have done it. Elrond would have begged for it. I was going to go to Rivendell, not to Lothlorien, to ask for help, but I had no time, and you were closer. So I don't care about your pride, I don't care about your petty arguments and grudges with the dwarves. We will not condemn them –– condemn her –– to ruin and destruction and death. We are not that heartless, we are part of this world, and we have a duty to protect it. To protect its people."
Celeborn look surprised, shocked, even, but also... He also looked ashamed. As if he would agree to help. As if Glorfindel had convinced him. Celeborn opened his mouth and said
"I am..."
But Galadriel held up a hand, and there was worry, urgency, and maybe even apology, in her eyes as, slowly, she shook her head.
"No," she said quietly. "I cannot help them."