Title: Leading to Love --Prologue
Beta: Faramirhaldir—Thank you so much! Any remaining errors are mine.
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor or Erestor/Glorfindel if you prefer!
Summary: Everyday occurrences, over time, can lead to love.
Disclaimer: The characters and places of Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion are the sole property of Prof. Tolkien and his estate. This is written for the enjoyment and not profit.
Author’s Notes: *This story is actually made up of several short stand alone segments, each having been written for someone who gave me an activity prompt. Hope they enjoy their segment as much as I enjoyed writing them.
*Clarification of reborn vs. remade: In my corner of Tolkien fandom, Glorfindel was remade (his fëa was put in an identical, fully grown body, aware of his former life). To me, reborn implies the fëa is placed in a new infant body—literally reborn.
*As always, the muses and I thrive on feedback, so please
leave some J
He spent the trip from the Havens to Lindon taking in the ‘new’ Arda—Arda Remade. It saddened him slightly that the world he knew was gone, drowned by the great waters of the sea. Still, this world was equally beautiful. Also, he would not stumble across landmarks and places that would bring back memories of people long gone. Pink lips curled into a small smile. He was sent back to protect the line of his former king, the grandson of Idril…did Glorfindel really think that the sight of Elrond would not bring back haunting memories?
He pushed that from his mind as he and the small escort afforded him by Círdan entered the courtyard. He was here to fulfill his duty. His chest constricted as he looked to the landing. There was no doubt which Noldo was Idril’s heir. Elrond was beautiful, tall and dark, with gray eyes and pale skin. While built a bit more like an Adan, he held the grace of the Eldar. It nearly brought tears to the remade warrior’s eyes. Glorfindel dismounted and approached the waiting elves.
He placed his hand to his heart and bowed low to Gil-galad, offering a greeting to his host. The high king inclined his head and welcomed so esteemed a guest to his palace but his words were hollow and his eyes held no warmth. Not really listening to the king’s words, Glorfindel turned and addressed Elrond.
“It is you I have been commanded to serve and protect.” He drew his great sword and resting it across his palms, he offered it to Elrond.
Elrond looked about more than a little confused and embarrassed. Surely Lord Glorfindel knew who was High King of the Noldo. It was to Gil-galad the warrior should be pledging his allegiance. The High King did not appear at all pleased with this development either. “You are mistaken,” Elrond stammered. “It is the King you serve as do I.”
Glorfindel stood, his sword still offered to the peredhel. “No, Lord Námo was most clear as to his instructions. I am to serve and protect the line of Idril, Earendel’s son. The princess’ light shines within you Elrond Half-elven; I will follow you.”
The elves gathered in the courtyard were dumbfounded. Here was the mighty Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, Elda from beyond the Halls of Mandos and the Great Sea. Here was the champion of the people, pledging his fealty to the peredhel herald of the High King.
Whispers began to spread like wild fire; but before things could get more uncomfortable, a stately elf clad in pristine black and silver robes stepped forward. “Perhaps this is best continued indoors. I am certain Lord Glorfindel could use a bit of refreshments after his long journey.”
Gil-galad nodded curtly, turned in a flourish of robes and ascended the steps. Elrond hastened after him. “Come, Hîr nin,” Erestor said calmly to Glorfindel, a reassuring smile on his lips. Glorfindel lost himself in the rich brown eyes that shown with kindness and wisdom. The remade ellon had seen many beautiful beings in his life, he himself was counted among them, but this elf, this striking elf with hair as black as the moonless night, rivaled even Námo in beauty—and that said a lot for Glorfindel thought Námo the most fair of all Ilúvatar’s creations. With something akin to awe, the returned warrior followed Erestor into the palace.
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.