Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

In Time WiP	By : AlliKyttn Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3704 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own neither Lord of the Rings, not Harry Potter and make no money from either fandom.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Notes: I'm relying on an elvish dictionary for translations. As requested, I will be providing translations throughout the fic rather than at the bottom of the page. This story uses Quenyan and Sindarin/Noldorin elvish.
A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I appreciate any and all feedback that will improve my stories for you. I will be seeing this through and will post as often has possible. ;)
~ Alli

In Time
Prologue – The request

He was sitting on a stone bench under the warm light of Anor [sun] studying one of his medical texts and looking into a cure for orcish poison when his seneschal found him. Elrond had sensed turmoil within Glorfindel ó Gondolin recently, but had waited for the ancient elf to come to him.

The Lord of Imladris turned a page absently while mentally pondering his mellon [friend]. Though Glorfindel kept to himself more than most elves, Elrond heeded any words that came from the other elder. There had been much in Glorfindel's long life that had made him thus and the peredhil [half-elf] lord did not begrudge him his cautious and protective nature.

When his mellon [friend] reached his side, the Balrog Slayer got down on bended knee and bowed his head. Elrond half-raised an eyebrow and wondered what action he had performed to have earned such treatment. “Hîr nín,” came the respectful greeting [my lord].

Now Elrond was deeply intrigued, though only one who knew him well would see more then a slight curiosity. “You have not spoken to me thus in an age, mellonamin [my friend], and only then did you wish something of me.” There was a hint of a smile in his voice and he was aware that Glorfindel would have taken note, though his friend still did not take his gaze from the stone beneath their feet, and nor did he rise from bended knee.

When the other elf maintained his silence, Elrond sighed, “Oh do get up, pen-thorn [loyal/steadfast one]. Nothing you ask of me can be great enough to demand the legendary Glorfindel ó Gondolin be on his knees before me.”

Still the golden-haired warrior did not rise. He did, however, speak. “I would ask to seek post [pause/halt] in my obligation to the line of my king for a period of five years.”

That was unexpected. The Lord of Imladris slowly closed his book and placed it on the stone bench next to him. “It is with no small wonder and regret that I cannot do this for you, Glorfindel. Your vow was given to the Valar, not I. This is something that I am unable to grant you.”

It did not seem to come as a surprise to the Eldar, who appeared to not be put off in the slightest. “I am aware, hîr nín [my lord], and so I ask for your blessing and your aid in seeking thus from the Valar.”

“This is not an action to take lightly, Glorfindel,” Elrond reminded him gently, though he knew this request could not have been easy, nor would it be something done on a whim.

“I do not do this lightly, mellonamin,” he spoke with determination [my friend]. “I have always been true to my vow and to ask this now causes me no small measure of pain.”

Elrond reached out and placed his fingers beneath Glorfindel's chin and encouraged him to meet his gaze. “Tell me then, satarnya [my loyal companion – Q], why you seek to be free of your vow now.”

“There is a babe,” he informed Elrond. “That I would see to.”

The peredhil [half-elf] blinked. A hên [child]? Surely he did not mean to say...

Chapter One – The Tale

Glorfindel stepped into his rooms and removed his sword and belt to sink deep into his lounging chair with a heartfelt sigh. He had not been so grateful upon his return to Imladris as he had been that night. Lethargy had indeed shadowed his steps for the last several hours of his patrol.

He and his elven warriors had been tracking a large band of orcs for the last several days. They had been drawing nearer when last evening he had felt the need to return to Imladris. Though he would not normally leave his men to continue on without him, the Valar had, in the past, often guided him in such a way as to signal a greater need for his presence, or more accurately his sword, elsewhere.

When Imladris was yet still far off in his sights, he'd begun to have difficultly keeping himself alert. The closer he drew to the beautiful city, the harder was his battle to stay on his horse and keep his eyes open. It was no small measure of luck that had seen clear his path to his rooms, where he was currently considering the attempt to move himself to his inviting bed.

It was only a handful of steps between where he was sunk into his chair and his – more comfortable – bed. When he had taken possession of his rooms he had not wanted any visual or physical barriers between his resting place and the entryway as a matter of safety and security. He did have a private wash room and reading area off to the side of this room, but it was this main area that saw to most of his needs.

He eyed his bed again, but could not help his heavy eyelids fluttering shut. He had a passing thought that this lethargy was unnatural before promising himself that he would only close his eyes for but a moment...

“Merlin, James!! Would you...put...that...down!” came the exasperated command from a redhead human.

Glorfindel looked at the scene before him with no small measure of confusion. The female seemed to be speaking Westron, but it sounded strange to his ears for some reason.

A dark-haired man, possibly 'James', rushed to her side, picking her up in strong arms and spinning her around in circles even while she started banging her palms against his shoulders. “But Lily-flower, our little petal is going to need her very own tea set AND a broom so that she can have a nice cuppa after a long, victorious Quidditch match!”

“Put me DOWN, you goof!” laughed the woman, whose name seemed to be Lily-flower. “Our little BUG, is not going to be playing Quidditch, nor is he going to be having tea with anyone for a number of years yet. At least let me get through his birth before you start planning out everything he is going to do until the end of time, James.”

With a melodramatic sigh, James put down Lily-flower before getting down on his knees and speaking to her stomach. “It's alright, love. You'll be daddy's little petal, won't you? I'm man enough to have tea parties with you, and I'll bet mummy will join in, too, once you come out and show her what an adorable little GIRL you are!”

Lily-flower rolled her eyes at the man talking to her belly. “Technically, baby Potter is genderless for another few weeks, you know...”

James jumped up and smacked a quick kiss to her smiling lips. “She's a girl, love! And she will be just as stubborn and beautiful as her mum. You'll see,” he grinned at her again before moving about the room and picking up random items to look at and enthuse over.

While the two apparent parents-to-be looked at things while smiling and laughing together softly, Glorfindel took stock of the room they were in. There was a large window next to a door and he could see a number of people milling about on the other side. Behind him there was a counter of some sort that had different items sitting atop, seemingly on display. Several were recognisable as toys of some description as he spotted a row of little cloth dolls that looked much like ones he had seen in the markets in Gondor last time he had visited the land of men.

There were a few other odds and ends that he recognised and likened the room to an indoor market stall. Several of the items that James and Lily-flower had picked up looked to be items one would have for a child, so he reasoned that this must be a market seller that made items for newborns and young ones. This continued for quite a time. The couple seemed to pause at every little thing the seller had to offer.

He wondered why he had been brought to this place, for it was like no other that he had come across in Middle-Earth. Glorfindel was aware that he was dreaming and so determined that the Valar had need to show him something. He watched the expectant parents as no others browsing the indoor market stall held his attention. The warrior followed the couple as they exchanged gold and other strange metal coins for their chosen items and left through the front door.

It was a strange market. The stalls were all in large rooms or buildings rather than the carts and covered areas that he was familiar with. People littered the stone path, stopping every now and then to look at items that were on display or to talk to their companions and others that crossed their path. The cloth that covered their bodies was not unlike that of the Istari, he noticed. Long, flowing robes that covered them head to toe and some were even wearing pointed caps, much like the type Mithrandir was so fond of.

Glorfindel quickened his pace, as he had been so caught up with the unfamiliar that he had almost let James and Lily-flower out of his sight. Once he got closer he could hear their conversation again. “...Gringott's Lils. I want to see if my emya [mummy – Q] left anything in the vault.”

The Eldar sucked in a breath at the Quenyan word. Yes, this couple was definitely why he was here. He saw no evidence of any other peoples in this land of men, yet here was a man that used the ancient elven language so casually, albeit only in reference to the one that gave him life.

Lily-flower smiled at him sadly. “We can speak to the goblins about an accounting of the vault. It would be nice to include a little something of our families. I'm sure they're all watching us from wherever their souls are, James.”

James hugged her a little tighter to his side as they entered a large, stone building. “I hope so, Lils. Emya [mummy] always said that our fëa [spirit/soul] always knew those that were in our hearts, seeking them out when Mandos released them.”

The redhead rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, deep in thought as she caressed her flat belly. “I hope that when that day comes we will know them, and can show them the newest member of our family.”

Glorfindel opened his eyes and groaned at the stiffness in his limbs and neck. He took a quick stock of his surroundings and realised Anor's [sun] fingers had reached well into his rooms, indicating that it was late in the morning and he had indeed fallen asleep in his chair several hours earlier.

He rose from his chair and entered his reading area, sitting himself behind his desk and withdrawing some parchment and charcoal from a small wooden box. For awhile he sketched a portrait of the couple, James staring at Lily-flower, whom Glorfindel assumed was his hervess [wife]. They were depicted as he had witnessed them in that final moment, her head resting on his shoulder, gently touching her womb while he looked down at her, love and sadness in his eyes.

It was both a beautiful and poignant moment. One that he was moved to capture before time dimmed the finer details. It was important, he knew, though not why. Not yet. It would come to him in time. Of this he was certain.

The pattern of sleeping and dreaming of this human couple continued for a number of days. In this time, he realised that for every day that passed on Middle-Earth, roughly four would pass in his dreams. There had been no more talk of James' emya [mummy], but he had realised that this couple was not of the land of men, but of the Istari, or a close relation, thereof. They had not age, nor vast wisdom. They were simply people that were going about their daily lives and happened to wield magic as if it were as natural as the wind among the trees, as it seemed to be.

It was a definite possibility. During one of his 'dream walks', as he liked to call it, James and 'Lily', he'd come to know her as, were behind their dwelling and sitting on a wooden swing together, gazing at the stars. A quick glance at the darkened sky had shown him an unfamiliar array of the bright lights, informing the golden warrior that this was not any place on Middle-Earth.

He had no clue where they resided, nor what the Valar wanted him to do, though since he was still dream-walking each night when his head touched his pillow, he reasoned that there was still more to learn of this strange land and this young couple.

The only real information he had gleaned was that James was indeed elven. In the privacy of their home, his pointed ears were obvious. Some type of magics were shielding the tips from his gaze whenever James left the home, though.

It was mid-morning when Glorfindel entered yet another dream, having taken leave to rest shortly after dining with Elrond's twin iôneth [sons], Elladan and Elrohir, for the evening meal.

Lily was standing in her bedroom, Anor [sun] shining brightly into the room, her gaze intent upon the tall mirror before her. She was wearing only her undergarments, but Glorfindel hardly noticed this. Both their eyes were glued to the ever-so-slight roundness that was making itself known if one looked hard enough. Her face was alight with pleasure and a giddiness that she could not contain while she was her only witness, to her mind. “Hi baby,” she whispered. “Mummy loves you ever so much...”

Glorfindel's heart was in his throat as he stared at the almost non-existent bump. There was a deep thrum in the back of his mind that he hadn't felt before and what felt like a hand squeezing his heart until he thought it would explode in his chest. He could feel the child's fea [soul/spirit]. He was, all of a sudden, aware of its presence and it was male, not female as James had spoken of so certainly.

What had his attention, though, was the familiarity of the fea [soul/spirit], the warmth it radiated and the call that begged him closer. Realisation was swift then. This was his mate, the fea [soul/spirit] that was gifted to him by the Valar, finally, here in this strange place, begotten to this woman and her elven hervenn [husband].

He stepped closer and reached out hesitantly. He moved to press his palm to where his melmë [love] grew. He closed his eyes tight and clenched a fist, forcing down a painful stab of disappointment when his palm did not meet warm flesh. The Valar could not be so cruel as to grant me no way to this child, yet torment me with visions of him, he thought to himself sadly. Not after so many millennia of waiting.

It was then that he felt a probing at his mind. There were no words he could glean, but instead he felt warmth and welcome...and acceptance. He nearly let out an undignified cry of relief. It was the hên [child], he realised. The fea [soul/spirit] was aware of him and would not allow Glorfindel to brook such torment. The Eldar did not understand how the unborn was able to feel his presence when no others had come to know of him. Even more curious was their ability to interact with one another in this way. There was much yet to understand, but Glorfindel had hope now that this would not be all to their relationship.

He had returned from death, after all. Surely a little barrier between worlds would be no problem for them in the future.

It was pure luck that when his patrol returned from their orc hunting Elrond ordered them to stay within the borders of Imladris for a time. Glorfindel's warriors were the best of their forces and so were often kept away from the Last Homely House, busy tracking and fighting orcs and goblins that threatened their borders and beyond.

Elladan and Elrohir had instead taken control of a team of elves to ambush a large contingent of the dark creatures that seemed to be settling in the lands just north and east of Imladris, leaving Glorfindel and his warriors to keep the borders under control. This meant that Glorfindel would be able to sleep peacefully in his own rooms at night for an undetermined period, for which he was grateful. It would not do to be so deep in dreams out on patrol when he did not know if his people would be able to awaken him should they have need.

Lily was several months along now and James was doting on her. Her pregnancy was obvious to all and neither parent could stop talking to and caressing her womb where his mate grew. They were beautiful to watch, their love for the babe radiating from them. This would be a happy family, he decided, though darkness loomed over them. His Valar-granted powers made him very intuitive about some things, though he could see their future.

It was hard for Glorfindel to stop himself from taking short rests during days when he was within Imladris' walls, just to see how they were getting along. He and the elfling were bonding, much to his delight. When he fell to his dreams, the elfling would flood him with warmth as if in greeting. It never failed to comfort, no matter how the day had treated him. Glorfindel would sometimes talk to the fëa pia [little soul/spirit – Q] in the same way he had seen James, Lily and one or two of their friends do. He could tell that the babe enjoyed it.

Seemingly, Lily also had a deep connection to her hên [child]. She could feel the flood of warmth whenever he greeted a loved one. This seemed to be reserved for his parents, Glorfindel and one other, the closest mellon [friend] of his adar [father], Sirius. It often confused Lily, the random bursts of warmth she felt when it was Glorfindel's turn to receive a greeting, but she seemed to just accept that her child was happy and continued about her day.

Glorfindel was in the training area, sparring with one of his warriors when coldness washed over him. He quickly ended the match and bowed to his opponent. “Teilien bain [fair sport], Lentirn,” he complimented before returning to his rooms with every intent of seeking rest.

When he appeared in his dream state, he immediately drew back and reached for his sword. It was a natural reaction to the fighting that was taking place around him in the darkened night, but one that would do him no good since he was not carrying a weapon, nor could he physically interact with the Istari around him.

And so he was forced to watch the events play out as Lily, James and a large number of their comrades commanded their fierce magics against unknown opponents who were also of the Istari, but cloaked in black, with hideous white coverings disguising their visage from view. Glorfindel did not understand what was going on. Nothing about any of his previous dream-walks had told him of war, but when he thought back, he realised that he had often heard James, Lily and others talking in hushed, sometimes urgent tones, yet he had been too engrossed in the fëa pia [little soul/spirit – Q] to take much notice.

He was struggling to take note of everything now, as his fëa pia [little soul/spirit – Q] was radiating fear and discomfort. Glorfindel could only imagine how this was troubling Lily as she darted around people, taking well-aimed shots with her wand at the dark Istari. As an unnoticed spectator, the golden-haired warrior saw one of the dark Istari following Lily's progress on the battle field. It was with no small amount of fear that he realised that this night would end with her death if she did not notice the dark one.

In his life he had not once stood by when another was in danger. Though he could do nothing, his steps still took him to her side, eyes still trailing the dark Istar, willing Lily or her comrades to see the increasing danger. And when the danger raised a wand in her direction, it was fierce denial and force of will that powered a determined, “No!” from his throat as he stepped between Lily, his fëa pia [little soul/spirit – Q] and the dark Istar.

A shot of coloured light spewed from the tip of the wand, only to be met with a strong barrier of blue light that emanated from Lily. She had felt something behind her and had turned too late to cast a counter to the nasty cutting curse that was aimed her way, but no one was more surprised than her when a shield prevented her chest from being torn to pieces.

The redhead quickly fired an expelliarmus [disarming charm] and petrificus totalis [freezing/body binding spell] at her attacker and looked around for her protector. There were none that were not already busy with their own opponents. It was when she was flooded with warmth from her child that she had an inkling that the shield was her own...or rather her baby's.

The look that passed over her face and the quick caress of her rounded belly told Glorfindel of her suspicions. He sucked in a breath and watched her quickly jump back into battle, more attentive this time. He was overtaken with suspicions of his own at that moment. The magics could easily have come from the child, but Glorfindel wondered which of them had been wielding it, the fëa pia [little soul/spirit]...or him?

It was with great joy and a small measure of discomfort that he was able to witness the birth of his fëa pia [little soul/spirit].

“Bloody hell, James,” came Sirius' chiding chuckle. “Would you calm down! Anyone would think you were the one having the little prongslet.”

“She was screaming Siri!” was the panicked reply through the door. “Childbirth is meant to be a beautiful experience. This does not sound beautiful...”

The expectant father had apparently been kicked out of the birthing room where his wife was panting and sweating. He had been hurling verbal threats at the healers who were attending his wife when her pain had become too much for him to witness quietly.

“I don't think the beautiful part comes until after the pain, James,” he heard Sirius inform his friend, indulgence in his tone.

Glorfindel scoffed at the young elf and his human friend with a short laugh. Lily was handling things much better than her hervenn [husband]. There were a few Istari other than Sirius keeping James company, he knew, but the golden-haired warrior could not see or hear enough to identify them. His gaze was drawn back to the back of the room where Lily was gripping the sides of the hospital bed, biting her lip around a pained moan.

His gaze avoided her partially covered nether regions, instead concentrating on the words of encouragement the healer was expressing at her progress. “There now, Mrs Potter. Not long to go now. We should see a head soon,” the older woman smiled.

He winced at the glare that Lily sent the healer's way. “Soon?!? I've been at this for hours already! I will be having this child in the next hour, or so help me, Merlin, I will accio [summoning charm] it out. James Potter! You get in here right now and help me have this child!”

Her hervenn [husband] rushed through the doors on command, obviously not willing to upset the fiery redhead further that day. “Not long to go now, hey Lils?” he chuckled nervously.

She reached over and punched him in the nose for his efforts.

In the weeks following his fëa pia's [little soul/spirit] birth, Glorfindel spent his dream-walking time at the elfling's side. 'Harry' his parents had named him, ruler of the home he had heard Lily tell James. In elvish, it was Marcaunon, a much more fitting name for an elf and it was how he referred to the babe when they spoke.

To be more accurate, Glorfindel spoke and Marcaunon listened and emoted. Their link, developed in the womb, was cemented upon his birth. When Lily was sleeping and the babe would awaken, disoriented and disconcerted by the darkness, Glorfindel's presence at his side would settle him quickly. Only need for nourishment would bring forth the demanding cries of a hungry elfling to awaken his emya [mummy].

Lily was home, more often than not, caring for the new born Marcaunon. It seemed that the war was raging outside their home, he had gleaned from many of their mealtime conversations, and James went out each day in his robes, sometimes to return spotted with blood and always with a heavy heart. His first move was always to the washroom, where he would bathe and redress, clean and unblemished to greet his hervess [wife] and his iôn [son], the worries of the day put away in favour of spending time basking in the love of his family.

“Sweet Merlin...Lily! Come here, quick,” James called his wife into the living area where he was laying on the floor next to where his son was an arm into the air. “Harry's smiling at me!”

Lily stopped in the doorway and looked over to her son, who was indeed smiling at James. “Oh, you're such a good baby, Harry!” she laughed and rushed back out of the room, to retrieve her 'camera', Glorfindel assumed.

Sure enough, she was holding the strange device when she returned and started clicking away. They produced life-like moving images he had discovered the other day and was very intrigued by many of the things that were commonplace in this world.

Little Marcaunon was very secure in his place of ruler of the home, Glorfindel mused. The home was almost a little getaway from the troubles outside. Marcaunon was aware of none of it, such was the feeling of love and caring within. Yes, they were a very happy family, he was glad to note each day.

There was gossip circulating Imladris. It was said that Glorfindel ó Gondolin was not of himself.

The legendary elf was seen on his patrols and at meals, but was scarce from the halls at all other times. It had taken a number of months for anyone to notice, given how often the great Balrog Slayer was out on patrols and in the training hall and field. But it had not been the normal gossips among the kitchen staff to spread the tale, but the warriors instead.

It was not out of the norm for the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower to be preoccupied, nor was it strange that he did not keep the company of others when he was about the halls of the Last Homely House. The only real meat for their wagging tongues was the elf's sudden fondness for his bed and the content smile that played about his lips at random throughout the day. It was a slow time for the gossipers, with nothing better to talk about than the seneschal's resting habits.

No one truly believed that he had found himself a bed-mate, for such lustful goings on were beyond elves of Glorfindel's nature. The whispers were soon forgotten though, when one of the patrols came back from a victorious orc hunt with many wounded and all attention was back where it should be.

All except for Glorfindel. The gossips had been partially right, after all. He was abnormally preoccupied with a tiny elfling that would one day become his venno [husband – Q]. But right now, the pen-neth [young one] was still but a babe, suckling at his naneth's [mother] breast.

That night brought more for him to smile about. Lily and James were laying on their bed, Marcaunon sitting on his covered bottom between them. The couple were trying to encourage the hên's [child] first decipherable word. Marcaunon squealed happily when James blew raspberries against his uncovered tummy. “Say dada, Harry! Come on,” he encouraged with a laugh at his son.

Lily was not to be outdone by her husband, “Who loves you best, Harry? Mummy does, baby! Say mama,” she sounded out the words for him, though he was having none of it.

Marcaunon bounced on his bottom, enjoying the way the bed moved when he did. He clapped his hands like his emya [mummy] taught him and shouted out, “Fin!” as the Balrog Slayer appeared to him and held his arms up, wanting a cuddle.

Glorfindel blinked at the greeting before a huge grin and a wave of love washed over him. “Is that me, pen-neth [young one]?” he sat down at the end of the bed and Marcaunon crawled over to him, though he could not climb into his lap, not for lack of trying.

“Marcaunon grinned up at him with a toothy smile, “Fin!”

He dimly heard James whine at his hervess [wife], “Li-ly! What's he calling a fin? He needs to say dada!”

None of it mattered to Glorfindel, though. His fëa pia's [little soul/spirit] first word was his name. It should not have been surprising...Glorfindel had more free time to spend coaxing the child to say Glorfindel, after all.

Things would change, of course, as they were wont to do. It was a dark day when James came home, bringing an aging wizard with him. The elder Istar reminded him a bit of those he was familiar with from Middle-Earth in the way he carried himself and the low thrum of power that lay waiting just under the surface of his casual demeanour.

“Albus!” Lily greeted the Istar. “Oh dear, it's a bit of a mess in here, I'm afraid,” she said nervously looking around where Harry had been playing with his blocks.

Glorfindel's eyes narrowed. He could tell that her nervousness had nothing to do with what little mess had been made by Marcaunon's playtime. There was something coming that she was hoping to avoid. This Istar was the leader of their forces, he recalled easily. Many planning sessions he had witnessed back before Lily had given birth to Marcaunon.

He had great respect for the Istar's leadership and understood many of the decisions that had been made, though others often didn't. Lily was one of the few that could follow the wizard's strategies and reasoning.

“Good day to you, Lily,” the man nodded to her once with a sad smile. “And how is young Harry?”

For a moment, the Istar glanced in the direction of the Eldar and sent him an almost imperceptible nod in greeting. Glorfindel bowed his head in return and turned his attention back to Marcaunon. He'd long since stopped wandering how it was that out of every magic-wielder in that realm that was not Marcaunon, only this Albus was able to see him.

“Harry has been madly building with his block today, and talking to the little figures and animals we got to go with them,” Lily answered, though smiling indulgently at her young son, now.

The Istar had approached Glorfindel many months ago after he had 'popped in' on one of their war planning sessions. The warrior had not realised he'd had an audience as he greeted his fëa pia [little soul/spirit] until Albus had caught his eye when the others were later mingling and indicated for him to follow the Istar out of the room.

He had been greatly surprised to realise that the babe was not the only one aware of his presence. “You are here for the child,” he stated harshly.

Yes, Glorfindel responded with a nod.

“Ah,” came Albus's acknowledgement. “I can see you, but am unable to hear you. This could prove interesting. We shall keep to simple answers then. Are you a guiding spirit?”

Glorfindel thought about it for a moment, but discarded the idea and shook his head, holding his fist to his heart.

Albus took note. “A protector then,” he deduced, at which Glorfindel paused, then nodded once, but placed an open hand over his heart.

The gesture was understood. “I see. We live in dangerous times. Something has drawn you here and I sense no ill intent from you,” the Istar informed him and glanced at the pointed tip of one of his ears. “We have not seen high elves in our world for many centuries. Are you able to help us in any way?”

Glorfindel sighed sadly before shaking his head. No.

“I cannot guarantee any of their safety,” was Albus' regretful statement. “Do you know of the Dark Lord Voldemort that plagues us?”

Again, Glorfindel shook his head. “He is a wizard like us, but one born of an unstable witch and her muggle, non-magical, husband. I made a great many number of mistakes when Voldemort came to train at our school, the least of which was no interfering when it became obvious the dark path he had chosen to walk with many of his school acquaintances,” Albus's tone was sad and wistful.

“The child is your soul-keeper, if I am not mistaken,” he continued.

Glofindel's radiant smile brought an upward tilt to the Istar's lips. “Yes...I will do what I can to protect Lily. I give you my word. I only hope that it is enough,” he trailed off. and returned to his people.

The Balrog Slayer came back to the present when Marcaunon gave a loud shriek of happiness as Albus levitated him up in the air and into his waiting arms. “Ba!” he greeted the Istar.

James' strained face gave way to an indulgent look towards his son. “That's right, Harry. Albus is here.”

“Is it time, Albus?” Lily asked so quietly that Glorfindel strained to hear her.

“I'm afraid it is, Lily, James,” was his answer, though he looked at Glorfindel. “I ask that you cast the fidelius [secrecy/hiding charm] around this house tomorrow night. Choose someone you trust to hold the secret. Lily, as you are most familiar with the spell and will also be sheltered here, I would ask that you cast it. This way there is one less vulnerability as with your death, the charm will fail.”

The young couple nodded their acceptance with a sad look to their son who was playing with Albus' long, white beard.

They had chosen the rat to guard their secret. Glorfindel worried at this, never having been able to trust the one named Peter from the moment he discovered the man's ability to shape-shift into the form of a rodent. Marcaunon had not taken to him the same way that he had Sirius, Remus and the couple's other friends. He could not discount that it had something to do with Glorfindel's dislike of the young Istar influencing him, so did not put much store in it.

The Eldar had known of the prophesy since just before Marcaunon's birth. Albus had come to the Potters one morning and had informed them of the interesting night he'd had when a witch had foretold of a child who would one day rid their land of Voldemort's evil. Marcaunon was one of two possible children that it could refer to. Being honest with himself, it was likely that his fëa pia [little soul/spirit] was the one spoken of. He could feel the heavy weight of destiny floating around him.

He would have much preferred James or Sirus guarding their secret, but could see their reasoning. James and Sirius were natural targets and were too headstrong to stay within the confines of the home for very long, their natures calling them to arms even against Lily's and Albus' better judgement.

There was still much happiness to be found in their home within the borders of Godric's Hollow, he was relieved to see. Lily spent her time teaching Marcaunon words in the tongue of their magic, Latin. She spoke to him of the grandparents that were watching over him and it was then that Glorfindel finally found out the name of James' emya [mother – Q], Dorea, though he did not recognise it as an elvish name unless some poor soul had been named after land or dwelling.

James and Sirius would return to the comfort of the protected home and play with Marcaunon until he fell into sleep. Telling him of their many, harmless, pranks that they played on people and sometimes retelling their version – child-friendly, of course – events from the day while a little winged ball that they called a snitch flew around their heads. The two men often caught Marcaunon's gaze following the winged ball and wondered between them if they had a seeker on their hands. He wasn't quite sure what they were referring to most of the time other than some type of sport played by their people, but he could admit that Marcaunon easily spotted that elusive ball even when the adults could not.

Yes, life within the walls of Lily and James' home was full of love, happiness and security.

That was, until the night the fidelius [secrecy/hiding charm] failed. Until the night that Peter betrayed his friends to the one he now called Master...

There was a sense of urgency about him that day. He had been speaking with Elladan and Elrohir in the courtyard when panic gripped him. He excused himself hurriedly and rushed back toward his rooms and to his bed.

Marcaunon's terrified cries greeted him. He was gathered in Lily's arms as she ran up the stairs and slammed the door to his bedroom. Torn between going to Marcaunon's or the source of the danger, he hesitated for only a moment before he rushed down the stairs.

James was darting around the living room, dodging green light that was being shot at him by a dark-haired Istar, returning fire every so often. This was the Dark Lord Voldemort, he knew. And as one of the spells reflected off the hall mirror and hit him in the back, Glorfindel spared a thought for the young elf whose life had been so very short, but yet so full of life and love of his family.

There was nothing he could have done but witness the moment. He took the stairs three at a time, only moments ahead of the determined Istar. Walking through the closed door he saw Lily place her son into his crib and press a kiss to his brow, telling him not to be afraid...that he was loved.

When the door exploded behind her, Lily was thrown against Marcaunon's crib, her son's cries ringing in her ears. Glorfindel did not know what to do. He stood by the crib and held a fist around a wooden bar that was gripped tightly by Marcaunon's hand. “We need to protect your emya [mummy], Marcaunon,” he whispered to the child. “Will you help me?”

Lily was facing off the dark Istar when he turned back to them. She was pleaded with the wizard to spare her son, to take her life in his place, though Voldemort would have none of it. As he cast his curse, Glorfindel mustered all feeling of protection and safety he could to Marcaunon.

Glorfindel could not contain his defeated cry as he saw a small shield appear directly in front of Marcaunon. It was not large enough to reach Lily, nor was it strong enough to stop the spell of a determined Istar power by so much hate. The golden-haired warrior fell to his knees when Lily fell to the green light, his helplessness taking over him at having to witness the death of two people he had come to care so much for.

Voldemort had not stopped though. He took a step closer to the crib. “So you are the one to defeat me, are you?” he laughed incredulously. “What will they say when they find you as dead as your parents, little Harry Potter?”

His blood was on fire in his veins as he saw the Istar raise his wand to kill the last of the once cheerful home's inhabitants. Marcaunon was crying for his emya [mummy], his fea [soul/spirit] screaming at Glorfindel to wake her up.

It was with the first glint of green from the wand that Glorfindel bellowed his rage at the Istar, his hand suddenly solid around Marcaunon's as a burst of white light emanated from where the killing curse met with the pen-neth's [young one] forehead...
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In Time *WiP*

In Time WiP