Decisions, Decisions: 1. Decisions, Decisions

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1. Decisions, Decisions

A horse is the projection of peoples' dreams about themselves - strong, powerful, beautiful - and it has the capability of giving us escape from our mundane existence. --Pam Brown

Write a story or poem, or create a piece of art where your character rises above themselves to follow their dreams.

 

 

The Valar sat motionless on their thrones, faces giving no hint as to their inner thoughts as they waited for his answer.  And frankly, he was curious what his reply would be as well.

What did he want to do?  Certainly he could remain here, wait for his Lírinyellë and his children to emerge from Bannoth, and then start a new life.  He'd done enough, hadn't he?  Shouldn't killing a balrog be enough – even for the Valar?  Hadn't much of his hope for a new life centered around his family and being with them again until the Very End?

 It would take time to establish himself somewhere, to gain enough forgiveness for having followed his lord across the ice in the first place; but hopefully it wouldn't take long before he could once more be the lord of the grand House which had been destroyed in Gondolin.  Surely neither Lírinyellë nor the little ones would require a lengthy stay in Bannoth – they had been innocents, had they not? 

Then, when his King and his friends emerged from their periods of healing and introspection, he would be ready to receive them in style and be at their right hands as they re-established themselves.  As the first to emerge from those Dark Halls, it was his obligation to prepare the way, wasn't it?

Then again, Lord Manwë was telling him that the evil he had fought had resurged, that defeating the Enemy had only unleashed the Enemy's lieutenant to step up into his former Master's shoes.  The need in Endorë was great for those with the experiences he'd had.   There was need of hope, and his arrival would bring that hope to those in most desperate need.

Glorfindel looked around.  Lírinyellë had yet to emerge, and there were no signs of any of their children.  Turgon remained in the Dark Halls, as did Ecthelion and Legolas.  He was alone, with only distant relatives he'd left behind long ago to give him comfort.  He was a warrior, had been a warrior for far too long to change now.  If he stayed here, he would lose that, as warriors were unnecessary in a land that knew only peace and tranquillity.

"I shall do as you ask," he told Lord Manwë, startling even himself at how right that decision felt.  "I will guard the House of Eärendil, if that is what you wish of me."


This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Aeärwen

Status: General

Completion: Complete

Era: 3rd Age - The Kings

Genre: General

Rating: General

Last Updated: 07/16/11

Original Post: 07/16/11

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