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The Gift	By : mirasaui Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 9163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
The Gift
by Mirasaui

Part 21: The Calm before the Storm
The rosy hues that announced the return of Anor painted the sky above the horizon with a pearlescent glow. Dew coated the grass and tender leaves of the flowering plants and the air had a certain moistness that signaled the arrival of a new day. A flock of Grackles noisily hunted with Starlings for morning insects amidst the fragrant plants in the herb gardens, disturbing the thoughts of the tousle-headed blond who stared out the windows of the solarium.
Never one to stay idle, Glorfindel had awakened before the sun's rise and feeling much better, walked down the corridor to the sanctuary of the solarium with barely a limp. Now, he stood watching as the eastern sky slowly turned a deeper shade of coral. This was his favorite hour of the day and he always felt amiss when he could not see the first rise of the golden orb along its path. He had much to do and this simple moment of solitude allowed him to arrange his thoughts and come to terms with the world around him. The almost daily ritual had started soon after the memories of his former life and his time spent in Mandos' Halls returned to his consciousness. Perhaps, it was due to a newfound appreciation of life, but whatever the cause, he did not forsake this morning liturgy without good reason.
Mouthing a silent curse at the garrulous black birds for disturbing his peace, his ire soon turned to laughter at their zany habits. Raising their heads up to the sky as if waiting for a piece of it to fall, they would hold the senseless pose then raucously go back to their greedy search, running from one spot to the next in a chaotic race of first come, first get. Then as if on cue, they would suddenly still and crane their heads up to the sky again.
Intent on watching the silly antics of the feasting birds, he visibly started when a large hand grasped his shoulder.
"Glorfindel, know you as well as I, you should not be out of bed," a voice chided softly in his ear.
"Do not worry, Master Healer. You have worked your magic. Once again, I am as good as new," Glorfindel said with a chuckle. "Miradhel is waging another losing battle with the Grackles, I see."
"Aye, they pull up the new shoots faster than she can replace them, plus they drop all manner of detritus on the linens when she hangs them out to dry," Anaran responded. "But you change the subject, meldir (1), we were discussing your injury. If you will not take my advice, at least return to your room so I may change your dressing. Humor me in this and I may persuade Miradhel to part with one of her sweet pastries for your morning meal."
"You drive a hard bargain, pen hael (2), for you know of my sweet tooth. The thought of such a delight already makes my mouth water. Lead on and let us get this ordeal out of the way."
"Do not try to fool me, ancient one," Master Anaran replied. "I wish to see how you take your weight on that leg. I will follow behind you."
True to the healer's word, the dressings were quickly changed and it was not long before Glorfindel was enjoying a flaky apple fritter and freshly prepared juice. Crumbs from the delectable sweet clung to his fingers and littered the bed sheets, but Glorfindel was too engrossed in the savory treat to notice. Two more followed the first, and a fourth was in his hand when a voice beckoned from the doorway.
"May I come in?" Lindir asked shyly, not sure how the seneschal would take his early morning visit.
"Only if you promise not to steal my fritters," the warrior said with a grin. "You must ask Miradhel for your own if you wish to break your fast with me."
Lindir had to smile. He had never seen Glorfindel so disheveled. The golden hair that was normally so carefully dressed was tousled and tangled. A large flake from the sweet torte he was so pleasurably devouring clung to his chin and a trail of the same ran down his chest to the sheet below. Sticky fingers clutched another sweet and the look on Glorfindel's face was one of cherubic delight. All traces of pain had fled and the guileless blue eyes that followed Lindir as he walked closer to the bed, spoke of love and happiness. Whether for him or the pastry, the minstrel was none too sure.
"You are in a better spirit today." Lindir said, "Thank you for the offer, but I already have dined. I came to see if there was anything you wished."
"Only your company, melethen, (3) Glorfindel smiled wistfully, "and brief your stay must be, for Captain Naldor and Haldir are due soon with their report. I must interrogate the prisoner and council with my officers, the scope and breadth of the patrol must be increased. That will require a schedule change, which I must work out on paper. Lord Elrond must be advised of our current situation and will want the details of what occurred. My day shall be long, Lindir. Do not fret if I take a quick meal in the barracks. Though I am not able to spend the time with you that I would wish, I promise to make up for it. Tonight, if you wish. Come to my room and we may continue where we left off. We also need to talk, meleth (4), for I wish to know more of you, inside and out.
"Melin chen, Lindir (5). Come, sit beside me and tell me of your night"
There is not much to tell, guren (6). I worked in the library on tasks Erestor set before me. He arrived later and we shared a bit of wine, bread and cheese. When our work was done, I went to my room and read for a while then fell asleep. My thoughts were often of you."
Lindir told Glorfindel the truth but not the whole truth. He had read last night, but it was quite late when he extinguished the candle beside his bed. The book that Erestor lent him was more than just a historical account of the time that Glorfindel spent in Gondolin.
Whoever the author, he had known the Chief of the House of the Golden Flower intimately, for much was revealed of the thoughts and nature of his Golden Lord. Gondolin's Glorfindel had been a just but hard taskmaster, for the men of his House adored him. He was Lieutenant, along with Ecthelion, to Turgon and as such had close business with the King. Here the book told much of the discourse between the two. It also described the beauty of the city, for it had been known as one of the fairest nigh unto Tirion. Of the House which Glorfindel was head, the author noted its richness was beyond description and he painted the Golden Lord as happy in his life with many and varied friends, a favorite of the King and Court.
But the most fascinating, yet heart-rending chapter in the book, told of the fall of Gondolin itself and it was this relating that first gave Lindir the idea that the author must have been part of that epic event. Through the author's written word, the minstrel lived the fear and fright the residents of the great city underwent.
On a night of celebration, Tarnin Austa, the summer festival, the dark hordes of Morgoth appeared upon the plains of Tumladen. The defenders of the city were caught unawares and chaos reigned as leaders tried to organize their troops. Lindir remembered reading the first person view of the fight:
"We rallied toward the great market and the smoke and darkness were such that we could hardly find our way. Hordes of Orcs ran amuck through the streets and I saw women, children, whole families cut down with the stroke of a sword. Others fled screaming into burning houses, their minds so crazed with fear they sought death in relief.
"The din and confusion were great as we pushed onwards towards the center of the city. Before we could reach our destination, a great swarm of Orcs came upon us. In no time, we were surrounded and no matter how many we felled, more stepped in to take their place. A messenger was sent to Turgon for aide, but it did not come and our hopes fell. Within the hour, our ranks were decimated so that we fought and slipped in pools of blood, too much of it that of our own kind. There were none among us who did not sport injury. Finally, our relief came, the House of the Harp having abandoned Salgant, who cowered in fear under his bed.
"With our numbers cut to less than a quarter, we managed to break through and fight our way to the square of the King. Tuor was there with Galdor and Ecthelion. But the White Wing, the Tree and the Fountain were in as forlorn a shape as the Golden Flower. There were cheers at our arrival and for the Harp, who had felled the Orcs on our tail. But we added little to the ranks. We were not enough.
Egalmoth came with the Heavenly Arch and remnants of the House of the Swallow, Pillar and Tower of Snow, for Duilin and Penlod the Tall had fallen. He told of the courage of Rog, slain with his archers at the North wall. How the House of the Hammer of the Wrath and its Lord this night ceased to exist. One more blow amongst many.
"We fought with leaden bodies against endless hordes of Morgath's minions. I saw Galdor step in front of Tuor and Ecthelion, saving their lives in a foolhardy, but brave move. A closer look brought me to my knees, for Tuor was supporting Ecthelion whose pallor was of one already dead. I tried to fight my way to him but there were too many between us.
"A great shadow fell. Gothmog, Lord of the Balrogs, chief servant of Morgath, stood as a fiery mountain before us. Tuor became separated from Egalmoth as a great dragon broke through the northern barrier. Fighting his way back to the square, he became overcome by the dragon's heat and was set upon by Gothmog. Ecthelion came out of his deathly swoon. Though his shield arm was useless, the Lord of the Fountain of the King hefted his sword and with great determination, charged. As he clashed with the fell beast, I was sickened by the smell of roasting flesh. Rooted I stood, fighting blindly with no thought but for my lifelong companion. Ecthelion inflicted a dire wound upon the monster but Gothmog did not fall. With both arms grievously hurt, swordless, he rammed the peak of his helm directly into the Balrog's chest, entangling his feet with those of his foe. The force of the thrust pierced through the fiery armour, throwing Gothmog into the deep bowl of the Fountain. The Balrog sank like a stone as alas, so did Ecthelion, his heavy armor an anchor of doom. I cried out in anguish as the waters of the fountain closed over my dearest of friends.
"Grief threatened to overwhelm but I could not give in to my despair. Hard pressed, we were driven back unto the Tower of the King. Turgon ran down with the Royal Guard and ordered a charge. With our banners and armour in shreds, we regrouped under the King and fought as we never had before, driving our enemies from the square. But the body of a great dragon fell into the waters of the fountain.
"Steam boiled up from the befouled water, viscous and scalding. Blinded, the enemy picked us off like flies. Turgon signaled a retreat. We were defeated, our city as lost as those we had loved. Turgon threw down his crown and commanded us to follow Tuor. He climbed to the top of the tower with those left of his Royal house and urged us to escape. Tuor and Galdor pleaded with the king but their pleas fell on deaf ears. With Galdor at our head, we ran south by the Road of Pomps to Gar Ainion, where to Tuor's joy, we met with Idril who had come there with a band of refugees. Yet, Eärendil was not with her and Tuor despaired.
We crossed the Way of the Running Waters with Orcs and dragons in pursuit. It fell to me to protect the rear. We won Turor's house and there filed down the tunnel but its confines were heated from the dragons on the plain and choked with dead. At its end, in a dry pool camouflaged by shrubs, lay the hidden passage planned by Idril so long ago. Here, there was argument over which direction we should take. Tuor was for Christhorn but others cried for the Way of Escape, which was a shorter distance. Our party split and I followed Tuor.
At the dark of dawn, we crossed the plains. Tuor set Legolas Greenleaf as guide, for Legolas knew the way blindfolded. Far we went, pursued by Orcs riding wolves. Upon the shoulders of one sat Eärendil, whom Tuor rescued. We slay the rest and moved on toward the mountains, Christhorn."
It was there the narrator's voice changed. Lindir as long as he lived, would never forget what he read on the next few pages.
"The ragged line of survivors climbed to Eagle's Cleft, stumbling over the rocky terrain. They were led by Galdor and Legolas Greenleaf, the House of the Golden Flower and its Lord, Glorfindel, protecting the rear. Tuor kept close to his wife and son and tried his best to comfort the frightened. Egalmoth was grim, mourning the loss of Rog. Glorfindel cried openly as his men fell around him, valiantly fighting the Orcs and dragons that followed.
"The path wound around a great rock wall which rose to a dizzying height. To the other side was a sheer drop into a deep abyss. The way was dark as the light of Ithil did not reach the pass. Morgoth, though he was not aware of the escape, had set Orcs to guard the mountains. They threw rocks down from the heights. Thronodor and his great eagles drove the Orcs from the mountainside. Yet, at the rear was another nightmare, a Balrog twice the size of an Elf climbed along the cliffs. While most stood in horror, one acted without thought. Most beloved of Gondolin, second only to Ecthelion, Glorfindel climbed up the cliff face to battle the Balrog.
"The sword of the Balrog met that of Glorfindel's time and time again, until Glorfindel had barely strength left to fight. A chance move opened a chink in the Balrog's armor. With a powerful thrust, Glorfindel pared the arm from the monstrous beast. The Balrog threw back his head and roared. Glorfindel, seizing the advantage, drew his knife and plunged it into the Balrog's stomach. As the wails of the demon in its death throes echoed throughout the pass, the edge of the cliff at his feet began to crumble. Glorfindel jumped to safety but the Balrog grasped a lock of his hair that streamed in the wind beneath his helm. The beast tumbled into abyss, dragging Lord Glorfindel with him."
Lindir almost put the book aside at that point, so upset was he reading about the death of the Elf who held his heart. But when he saw that the handwriting had once again changed, he continued reading. The next words engrained themselves in his mind forever.
"That I did not remember my fall is a lie. As a living torch I fell, for the flames from the Balrog were kindled by the rushing wind. Mercifully, my anguish was quick, for I must have passed out before meeting the water. I was not aware that Thorondor retrieved my broken body and bore it back to my kin, for I had entered the realm of Mandos, an icy abode worse than that of the Helcaraxë. The cold sunk deep into my bones as if a thousand knives pierced my skin. But I had no skin nor bones nor body, only my thoughts and the ever-present painful frost that made the illusion my body still existed. No light warmed this dark void. I was alone and frightened. This was my existence for two hundred years, time enough to regret, curse my arrogant pride and that of my kin, to remember all that I had lost."
Lindir had not been able to read more, for he knew there could be only one Elf who had written that passage and he realized then what Glorfindel lived with each and every day. Lindir cried for his friend and lover. He did not feel rested when he awakened for he had tossed and turned in the throes of a nightmare throughout what was left of the night. Hiding the book under his pillow, he made his bed and readied for the new day.
"You look as if you lost your best friend, Lindir." Glorfindel said as he looked questioningly at the sad face before him. "Did I hurt you so much last night?"
Lindir broke out of his trance and played with the warrior's hand absent-mindedly. "I was thinking suddenly of Tebring. Master Anaran says he is no better." Lindir blurted out the first thing that came to mind, then felt guilty that he used the misfortune of his friend to cover his true thought.
Glorfindel winced. "Do you recall Celeng, the Arms Master? He is to visit this morning. He believes together we may talk sense into Tebring." The warrior sighed. "Perhaps we can do some good, but I am doubtful of the outcome."
Now it was Glorfindel's turn to look cheerless. Tebring had been on his mind since first he heard of the guardian's injury. He was not surprised at the Elf's reaction, for Tebring took his duty seriously, obsessively so. He had hoped Lord Elrond could help the warrior deal with his loss, but Elrond had tried and failed. Glorfindel was not sure he and Celeng would succeed where his Lord could not, but they had to try. Celeng had overcome his depression after his accident, although it had been a long road to complete recovery. But his old friend had come to terms with his disfigurement and was content in his new life.
"Let us put aside these thoughts for now, Lindir, and speak on a more pleasant topic. But first, if you do not mind, I need wash this stickiness from my hands and face." Glancing down, Glorfindel saw the mass of crumbs on the linen sheet. "Lord Erestor would have a few snide remarks if he were to see the mess I have made." Glorfindel told Lindir, laughing at the knowing look the minstrel gave. "How you manage to work with such a persnickety Elf, amazes me. Erestor and I would be at each other's throats before half the day passed."
"That you and Erestor love to antagonize each other is a given in Imladris. But all know your true feelings. Do you not, Glorfindel, consider Erestor one of your closest friends? Perhaps not so close as Haldir, but the two of you have put up with each other for millennia."
Glorfindel just smiled, then pushed himself out of bed and walked to the washbasin to perform his morning toiletry. He washed then asked Lindir to comb and braid his hair.
Lord Erestor found the two seated on the bed, Lindir just tying a leather lace to the end of the plait he had fashioned at the back of Glorfindel's head.
"I am sorry to disturb, Glorfindel, but I have come to ask for Lindir's assistance. Haldir and Captain Naldor are outside."
"A few moments, Erestor, then I will welcome Naldor and Haldir," Glorfindel replied.
"As you wish," Erestor returned with a slight bow, then as silently as he had entered, turned and exited the room.
Glorfindel wrapped strong arms around Lindir and pressed a kiss to the minstrel's lips. "I shall see you tonight, my love, and make amends for the time we must spend apart today."
Lindir returned the kiss then reluctantly parted from Glorfindel. "Naught will keep me away. Until then, my heart, take care."
Haldir entered the room as soon as Lindir had left, followed by Captain Naldor. Each was dressed in the uniform of his realm, Haldir in the gray and black of Lothlórien, Captain Naldor in the red and brown of Imladris. "My Lord," Captain Naldor said with a slight bow, "Here is my report on the interrogation of the prisoner."
Glorfindel nodded, "Proceed Captain," he commanded, all business now that his lover had left.
"When the fight was ended, we had the Half-elf and one of his men in custody. The mortal was grossly injured and did not survive our healer's care. His body was searched then brought to the Healing House for disposal. The Half-elf showed no remorse at his comrade's passing and spoke not a word when we tied him and brought him to the cell. The Healer found no injury to his person save a badly sprained ankle, which could be why he was so easily caught.
"Once confined, he asked for water, which we issued. After his thirst was quenched, he showered us with insults, mostly crude remarks concerning our Noldorin heritage, but also those pertaining to Elves in general. His language was that of men and he ignored our Sindarin, acting as if he knew it not.
"I questioned him as to the purpose of the attack, if he was acting on another's command, but he would not give forth the answers I sought. His only response was jeers and slurs against our kind. He revealed more when Marchwarden Haldir took over interrogation. I defer to the Marchwarden now to relate the rest."
"Seneschal," Haldir nodded in respect to Glorfindel. "That the prisoner resented my presence was immediately evidenced upon my entry into the cell. He seemed more antagonistic toward me than any other. He said he was born and raised in Lothlórien, the bastard son of a Lórien maid and a mortal. He claims we Silvans were prejudiced against him and treated him ill, causing him to leave and seek the race of men. It was his hatred of all that is Elven, which caused him to plan the attack, his goal to overrun Imladris and use it as a base to invade Mirkwood and Lothlórien. He hinted of a grander plan wherein men would one day rule these lands. Whether this was delusion on his part or he does have knowledge of a master plan, I am not sure. At present, that is all the information I could obtain."
"Thank you, Marchwarden, Captain," Glorfindel replied after listening intently to both. "I shall question the prisoner myself later and request that you both be present. I will send a messenger to inform you when. Captain Naldor, if you would leave your written report on the table there, you have my permission to leave. That is, unless you have anything further? Marchwarden, if you would stay, I would like to speak with you a moment."
Captain Naldor walked over to the small table and placed his report upon it, then turned to his commander and stood at attention. "I will take my leave, my Lord, and will await your messenger."
Once he had gone, Glorfindel beckoned Haldir to come closer. "What are your true thoughts, Haldir?"
The Marchwarden did not hesitate in his reply. "Captain Naldor seems a competent Commander. I did not hide any truths when I gave my report. My intuition tells me the prisoner is bitter and acted out of revenge, that the attack was exactly what he says, an attempted coup that failed. There is always the possibility that one with more intelligence planned the ambush as part of a larger operation, and that should be checked thoroughly. But I would be surprised if that were the case."
"I appreciate your help, Haldir," Glorfindel replied with sincerity, "and I respect your opinion. Lord Elrond will be appreciative of your help also."
"On a different subject, I meant what I said the other night. You are one of my dearest friends, Haldir. Without your help I would not have found Lindir, nor would I have opened my heart. You have always been there for me and I would have you know, I would give my life for you, if ever it was needed."
Haldir smiled, and clasped the warrior's hand in his. "You are dear to me as well, ancient one. You chastised Lindir the other night, but I feared for you the same as he. Be careful, Glorfindel, do not seek Mandos' dwelling again, for he might not be as kind the second time. As for myself, I am ever at your service."
The two exchanged a warrior's handclasp then Haldir gave his long time friend a hug. "I saw Celeng waiting in the hall, so I will not stay. You have much to do and I am keeping you from your tasks. As Captain Naldor, I await your messenger. Rest during your breaks if you can, for you will feel your injury much today. Until later, my friend."
"Send in Celeng on your way out, would you, Haldir? We will try to reason with Tebring today. With the blessing of the Valar, maybe we can make a difference. Navaer (7) friend, until later."
The tap of wood on the stone floor signaled Celeng's arrival. The arms master could move quite well with his crutch but it still pained Glorfindel to see an Elf so limited in his movement.
"It is good to see you, Commander." Celeng said with a smile. Although, I did not expect to visit you in the Healing House! Woe the circumstances that places Elrond's second-in-command out of commission."
Glorfindel returned the smile. Celeng and he went back a long ways, for the green-eyed Noldor fought at his side in the War of the Last Alliance and in the years preceding the Great War, helped train the raw recruits at Imladris. His prowess with knives was legendary or rather had been, for after his injury he had retired his weapons. But in the time before his accident, he was unequaled in the art of the blades. He had instructed most of the older Imladris guardians in their use and many Lothlórien Galadhrim as well. Glorfindel had been hard put to replace him. But above all, he had been a good friend to the Elda. One he turned to on those black nights when he sat alone in his battlefield tent, his mind sunk in dark thoughts. A comrade, with whom he would share a glass of wine, a warrior's song, or visions of home. There had been many such nights, and many such times that he had called upon his friend.
"Aye, Celeng, I blame myself for this occurrence. Through some error on my part, we allowed an enemy to breach our border. I was the one caught in the trap. The Valar forbid, it could have been Elrond. It is beyond my comprehension that I should have been so lax." The great warrior shook his head in puzzlement. "I deserve any punishment Lord Elrond plans."
"Do not chasten yourself, Glorfindel. I have heard it was a Half-elf who commanded the men, that his mercenaries were trained in our ways."
"And does that excuse the fact that I was caught unawares? Does that mean if Mirkwood decided today to attack Imladris and was successful, that I would not be to blame? I have let Lord Elrond down, failed in my duty. By rights, he should ask me to retire and put Captain Naldor in my place."
"That my friend he will not do. There is none more suited to the job than you." Celeng replied.
"Why, because I slew a Balrog? You forget I died in the attempt. Glorfindel suddenly faltered. "Am I slowing down, Celeng? Is my great age affecting me like it does Men? I-I seem to have lost the confidence I once had in my youth."
"None of us are infallible, Glorfindel, we all make mistakes. You saved the situation. There were no other injuries besides your own, if rumors are correct." Celeng said, trying to improve the mood of his friend.
"I miss you Celeng." Glorfindel replied with a weak smile. "There are none left in the guardians with whom I can truly relate. What is the saying that men have? 'Old soldiers never die, they simply fade away.' Is that what is happening to us, Celeng?"
"I will forgive you for that one, Glorfindel. In your current mood, your wits are addled. It is I who have faded away, mellonen, (8) not you. Give yourself time to heal from your wounds, both mental and physical. You just left your bed this morning."
"Ai, Celeng, do forgive me for the insult. I did not think before the words left my mouth." Glorfindel kicked himself mentally. Celeng was here to persuade Tebring to come to terms with his handicap, and Glorfindel had just rudely reminded Celeng of his. In his bout of self-pity, he had hurt the feelings of his friend. "Let us change the subject and talk about that for which you have come. What are you ideas for dealing with Tebring?"
For the next half-hour the two discussed plans for helping the young guardian out of his melancholy. Both knew they must take drastic steps to keep the Elf from fading. Tebring's spirits were so low, he would not last the week if left as he was, and aside from Lord Elrond and Master Anaran, Tebring allowed no one else into his room. They would just have to enter unannounced and hope they could perform a miracle. As they were finalizing their plan, one of the apprentice healers knocked at the door.
"Forgive me my Lord Glorfindel, but Lord Elrond requests your presence after your talk with Arms Master Celeng. He asks that you meet him in the Herb Room."
"Thank you for relaying the message," Glorfindel replied. "Please tell Lord Elrond I will be with him in a moment. We are just finishing here."
"As you wish, my Lord." The messenger replied then left to perform his duty.
Celeng fingered a lock of Glorfindel's golden hair. Do not worry, mellonen (8), Lord Elrond knows your worth. He will not seek Naldor to take your place. The situation is not as dire as you make it out to be. I will seek you after the midday fast and we will speak with Tebring. Go now, you will not wish to keep Elrond waiting."
Glorfindel sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "If you would, please, hand me the robe Master Anaran left. It will not do to appear in front of my Lord as I am. Unfortunately, my clothes are stained with blood."
Taking the robe from Celeng, Glorfindel slipped his arms inside the garment and fastened the braided loops around the buttons that closed it in front. He and Celeng exited the room together, Glorfindel heading for the Herb room, Celeng to seek out Tambor and Garion.
Lord Elrond was sitting at the large table when Glorfindel knocked at the door. "Come in, Glorfindel," the ruler of Imladris said to his second-in-command. "I have been waiting for you to finish with Celeng as I have something important to discuss."
"My Lord," Glorfindel replied, crossing the room to stand on the opposite side of the table from his liege. The warrior's nervousness increased as he saw the look on Elrond's face. Elrond had a fierce temper and his expression at the moment was not at all benevolent.
"Years ago Glorfindel, you, Erestor, and I had a serious talk about young Lindir. Do you remember our discussion?"
"Yes, my Lord," Glorfindel replied, unnerved for a moment as his Lord spoke of a different matter than that which he had expected.
"And do you also remember, Glorfindel, swearing an oath that not a word of that discussion would be revealed to Lindir?" Elrond had risen from the table and almost spit these words in Glorfindel's face.
"Yes, my Lord, I remember and I have not broken that oath." Glorfindel's face turned pale. "Has Lindir found out that which we discussed?"
"I know not, Glorfindel," Elrond said in a scathing voice. "But I also remember you coming to me when Lindir reached his majority and telling me of your feelings for the Elf. Another one of our discussions you seem to have forgotten. I advised you at that time to stay away from him, and to keep those feelings buried deep inside."
A dull ache began to form in the pit of Glorfindel's stomach as he watched Elrond's face turn a deep shade of red. "I made such a promise, my Lord, but..."
But Elrond in his anger did not let Glorfindel finish. "Erestor informs me that against my wishes, you have not only sought out the minstrel but have declared your love to Lindir and taken him to your bed!"
"Aye, my Lord that is so, but you must understand..." Glorfindel tried to tell Elrond of all that had happened between himself and the minstrel. But again, Elrond interrupted.
"I must understand nothing, Glorfindel! It is you who must understand. As of this moment you are to stay away from Lindir. And since it seems I cannot trust you to do that, I will make certain you obey my command. You are to pack your bags and ride to the Gray Havens. I have a message already written for you to give to Círdan. Do not fight me on this, Glorfindel, for it solves two problems. It gets you away from Lindir and it releases me from having to demote my long time Commander, who for the first time in Imladris' history, allowed a band of misfits to invade Imladris!"
Glorfindel felt as if all the breath had been knocked from his lungs. His eyes narrowed to mere slits as adrenaline rushed through his body. Any words of apology he had been prepared to utter flew out the window and a flash of anger such as he had not felt in a long time flooded his senses.
"No! " Glorfindel shouted, bringing one of his large fists down upon the table with such force that the sound echoed throughout the Healing House. Leaning forward until his nose was inches from that of his Lord, his spat his words back in Elrond's face. "You do not have to worry about demoting me, my Lord, for I resign! But I will not leave Imladris. I will not leave Lindir!"
"You are right, I did declare my love to him and for that I have Varda's approval. I - Do - Not - Need - Yours! Keep your nose out of my love life, Peredhel. If you do not wish me to stay in your house, I will move to the barracks and if you do not wish me there ... well, I am no stranger to a bedroll! Leave Lindir alone. Cross me on this, Elrond, and you will have my sword at your throat!"
Without waiting for a response, the ancient warrior shouted a string of curses in Quenya and stalked angrily out of the room, slamming the door behind him. His wrath could be felt by all in the Healing House and those who were in his way, quickly found someplace else to go. Fire was in his eyes and heat coursed through his veins. He was a swirling hurricane, an active volcano ready to burst. All who saw him, fled in terror. For Glorfindel in his ire was an Elf to be reckoned with and Glorfindel had not been this enraged since a Balrog crossed his path.

Notes:
1. meldir - friend
2. pen hael - wise one
3. melethen - my love
4. meleth - love
5. Melin chen, Lindir - I love you, Lindir
6. guren - my heart
7. Navaer - farewell
8. mellonen - my friend
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The Gift