Journey From Darkness

Glorfindel rode through the gates of Imladris* and then turned his horse, Celegtâl*, East following the Bruinen* River back towards the fields and dales above.

“You said I was safe within the walls of Imladris, yet you bring me forth from its gates without benefit of weapons or armor.” Faile said in an effort to turn her mind from her fear of falling from the horse.

“Can you not think of anything else? Arda* is dressed in the raiment of Ethuil* yet you are blind to it. There is more to lthanthan the hardships of war. We are well within the guarded Fences of Imladris and I have both blade and bow at the ready. So rest your mind and enjoy the scenery.”

“All my life I have lived by the sword. Beauty will not slay my enemies, it will not fill my belly, nor will it provide me with shelter and warmth. What value can it truly have except to weaken me in the face of my enemies?”

“It can feed your soul, Pen’tithen*. Our spirits were not meant to dwell in perpetual darkness without beauty to soften the harsher facets of life. The Eldar* are both blessed and cursed with the weight of years, too much of any one thing can snuff the fire of our spirits and leave us living husks of flesh without hope.”

In the silence that followed, Faile could not help but think of the elders of her people. They were always grim of face. It was not uncommon for the elders to die as if life had become too great a burden to bear.

Faile was so lost in thought that she hadn’t realized that they had reached their destination until she felt Glorfindel dismount. Her breath caught as she surveyed the landscape around them, for nothing in her limited experience could have prepared her the sight of spring in its full glory. During her journey, her mind had been too occupied with finding the Calaquendi* and avoiding the Saurihos* to pay much attention to her surroundings.

They were on the crest of a hill and a small valley laid spread before them. The lush meadow was framed on three sides by pale gray mountains. A small brook threaded its way through the valley towards the Bruinen. Wildflowers of every size and hue blanketed the meadow.

“I have never seen anything so beautiful.” Faile’s voice was a bare whisper, her previous opinions and arguments forgotten.

Glorfindel smiled and lifted the shaken girl from the back of the horse. Her feet barely touched the ground before she tore off towards the meadow below them. Glorfindel watched her sprint among the flowers, following at a more sedate pace with Celegtâl.

At lasaileaile dropped to the ground, her face flushed, eyes sparkling with pure joy. The sun highlighted her dark hair and Glorfindel marveled at its bluish tint having never seen its equal. Her emerald gown blended with the grass, giving the illusion to Glorfindel that she was a nymph rising up from the meadow. Realizing where his thoughts were straying, he reminded himself sternly that she was a hardly more than a child and he brought her to the meadow only to make his questions seem less like an interrogation. He settled himself next to her, leaving Celegtâl to graze contentedly nearby.

“Your arrows are strange, I have never seen the like before.” He said without preamble as if to prove to himself that Faile’s innocence and beauty did not affect him.

“The metal is common and plentiful, we use it for everything.” Faile’s mood darkened as her thoughts turned to home. “Wood is scarce and is used only for bows, we burn peat moss for warmth and to provide light.”

Glorfindel was shocked at the realization that such a precious metal as mithril could be held in such a casual light. He had a pretty good idea of why Sauron was so interested in Mar Mordollo*. Mithril was extremely rare and found in only one other place. It also provided him with another clue to the location of the stronghold.

“Tell me about the valley in which you live, surely there is beauty such as this to be found there.”

Faile’s gaze drifted across the landscape. “No. There are two seasons, dark and twilight. It is a cold and harsh place, filled with mires and bogs. The trees are much smaller and do not have the thick, green tops that you are used to. Thorns and brambare are abundant and it can make hunting difficult, which is why we stay in packs.” Faile paused, her mood becoming darker still. “There is a flower that grows amid the marsh called Ailinon*. Its petals are the color of the sky just before the Sun rises in the morning.”

“It sounds beautiful, it must be highly prized among your people.”

Faile eyed Glorfindel sternly, her eyes narrowing. “Nay, we look upon it as a curse and a reminder of the dangers of vanity and luxury. You see the Ailinon has another name among our people, we also call it Ârhuin Gûr ll*. Long ago, before my father’s birth, there was a king named Nólaquen. They say legions of Saurihos fell beneath his sword. Mar Mordollo prospered under his rule and for a time, my people knew peace. One day while out hunting, his pack came across a maid of the Calaquendi. Her name was Gwanthi and she had gotten separated from her people and wandered into our valley. Legend has it that her tresses shone like the sun and her eyes were the blue of the Sea. Nólaquen was smitten by her beauty and took her as his life mate. Right away, Gwanthi found fault with everything about Mar Mordollo. She told Nólaquen that she needed beauty to surround her or she would perish from a broken heart. He was so bewitched that he gave into her every whim, evenowinowing her the freedom to bath every day despite the fact that pure water is scarce. One day when she was walking along the battlements, she spied a cluster of Ailinon in a nearby marsh. She went to Nólaquen and begged him to fetch her some, so that she could weave them into her hair. He left at once, alone, and went to the marsh. Heedless of the danger, he waded in after the blossoms, but before he reached them a beast that lurks in the marshy waters attacked him. By time the guards reached the mire and killed the beast, Nólaquen was dead. The greatest king of the Moriquendi* was taken from us because of vanity. Gwanthi left the following day and was never seen again. Some say she threw herself into a bog and was devoured by a water beast, others say she returned to her people. No one really knows.”

No small wonder her people do not trust us or seek us out, Glorfindel thought to himself. “I am sorry for the loss to your people. Too much of anything can be dangerous.” He reached over and lightly traced the scar along her jawbone, turning her face towards his. “How did you get this scar?” he asked in an effort to distract his wayward thoughts.

“I was about twenty or so and my father was training me with a sword. I had a tendency to drop my guard leaving my face open to attack. After repeated warnings, my father decided that I needed a permanent reminder, so he waited until I dropped my guard and then he cut my face.”

“That is barbaric, you were little more than a babe.” Glorfindel’s face echoed the horror in his voice. The more he learned about her sire, the less he like him.

“Barbaric. Nay, it was a lesson well learned for I have never dropped my guard since then.” Faile fiercely defended her sire.

“What of your mother? Did she agree with your father’s lesson?”

“My mother died when I was seven, her hunting pack was ambushed. I don’t remember much about her, except she would sing to me simesimes.”

Glorfindel could not comprehend living in a loveless, hostile environment such as Faile was raised in. Children among the Calaquendi were cherished and loved. Faile conjured protective feelings within him that he had tried desperately to bury. He wanted to show her the world, protect her from the evils within it. All thoughts of her youth were pushed aside, lost amid feelings of compassion, anger, and desire.

Faile’s breath caught as Glorfindel leaned closer, bring their faces just inches apart. She could no longer deny that her attraction to the older Elf, despite his arrogance and heavy-handedness. She lightly rubbed her nose against his, letting him know that she desired him.

Glorfindel was shaken from his thoughts by the light contact of Faile’s nose against his. His inner voice screamed loudly that he was too old and set in his ways and it was folly to join with one so young. He pulled back and looked out across the meadow, missing the hurt look that flashed onto Faile’s face. After a few moments, he faced her once again, noting that her white skin was tinted pink. “I fear you have gotten to much sun. You will have a nasty burn unless we get you back to Imladris.”

Faile only nodded quietly and allowed him to pull her up from the ground. She barely noted the ride back, lost in thought. Her pride stung at his rejection. He probably thinks I am unworthy of him, she thought. She had been a fool to think that he would want her, she was, after all, plain compared to the golden and auburn haired beauties she had seen about Imladris. She hardened her heart, determined to remember her purpose. She would leave just as soon as she was able, with or without his consent.

When they finally reached Imladris, Glorfindel escorted her to her room and then quickly left her. Resolving to send a messenger immediately to Forlindon*. The sooner I get council from Lord Elrond, the sooner this child will be safe from me.

Faile passed most of the afternoon in her room, asking for a tray to be sent to her at the noon hour. Lantare, however, refused to budge when it came to the evening meal. She insisted that Faile take another bath. Faile fought tooth and nail but in the end, Lantare and the guards won. She soon found herself immersed in a bath of warm, scented water, it still felt strange to her skin and she resolved not to enjoy a minute of it, the story of Nólaquen and Gwanthi still fresh in her mind.

After about an hour of being scrubbed, prodded and poked, Faile found herself being led once again to the dining hall. Lantare had not missed the looks Glorfindel had been casting towards her young charge and had taken it upon herself to play matchmaker. She had pulled out all the stops and arrayed Faile in the finest gown she could find.

Glorfindel awaited Faile arrival outside the dining hall with Erestor. He had managed to convince himself that he would not allow his personal feelings to interfere with his duties as seneschal. He was in the middle of telling Erestor the contents of the missive he had sent to Forlindon when he caught sight of Faile as she rounded the corner. He stopped mid-sentence much to Erestor’s amusement, for he too had noted his friend’s attraction to their guest and felt as Lantare, that it was about time Glorfindel settled down with a life mate.

Glorfindel’s eyes swept leisurely over Faile. Her under tunic was made of a white, pearlescent silk that shimmered in the flickering candlelight. The over tunic was a rich, plum velvet that contrasted nicely with the under tunic and Faile’s pale skin. Lantare had swept the sides and top of Faile’s hair into a braided coronal threaded with tiny seed pearls, leaving the back free to fall as it would. Glorfindel felt his mouth go dry as a hot bolt of lust shot through his body and settled in his loins. It took all of his willpower not to rush forward, swing Faile over his shoulder, take her back to his room and love her until they both fell into reverie. The sound of Erestor clearing his throat brought him back to reality.

“You are beginning to drool, my friend, and it is most undignified.” Erestor’s low remark was tinged with mirth. “Perhaps you would like to take dinner ‘privately’ with our guest.”

“As I have told you before, she is much too young for me.” Glorfindel was irritated more at his lack of control than at Erestor’s remark.

“You are never too old to find pleasure in the arms of a willing maid. You may as well finish what your eyes and thoughts have started.”

Glorfindel chose to ignore Erestor’s remarks and moved to escort Faile to the high table.

Dinner was a disaster for Glorfindel. Faile pointed ignored him for her ego was still bruised by his earlier rejection. She made light conversation with Erestor, asking him questions about Imladris and the Calaquendi. Erestor, for his part, flirted boldly with Faile, though she missed most of the subtle innuendos. He was purposely trying to provoke Glorfindel into claiming the girl before someone else did. He had noticed some of the younger Elves eyeing Faile and they would not hesitate to charm her into their beds.

Glorfindel was seething by time dinner was finally over. Erestor’s flirting had not gone unnoticed nor had the looks cast Faile’s way by the others. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Within the matter of two short days, Faile had managed to worm her way into his heart. Stubborn pride was the only thing that kept him from succumbing to his deepest desires. Truth be told for the first time in his life, he was scared. He just didn’t want to admit his fear, to take the chance that he would wind up heart-broken if she rejected him. He followed behind Erestor as he escorted Faile into the entertainment hall, where the Elves of Imladris gathered nightly to sing songs. Finally, he couldn’t take anymore and he left the hall to seek the peace of his favorite glade.

*~*

The next few weeks, Glorfindel avoided Faile, immersing himself in the duties of running Imladris. Erestor took to escorting their guest about the grounds, telling her of their shared history and the history of the world her people had removed themselves from. He showed Faile how to use silverware and slowly polished her social skills. Glorfindel remained conspicuously absent from the dining hall, taking his meals in his room. Faile, for her part, learned the layout of Imladris and began to devise a plan for escaping. She only needed to find out where her weapons and armor were and she could leave. Erestor, however, was careful not to point out the armory or give her any indication of where her belongings were being stored.

The long awaited messenger finally returned from Forlindon and Glorfindel was surprised to see the missive was sealed with the royal sigil. Opening it, he quickly scanned its contents, cursing silently to himself. Dismissing the messenger, he went in search of Faile. He was surprised to find her in the glade he had questioned her in the first night of her arrival. Her guards were stationed at a discreet distance and Glorfindel waved them off. Seating himself on the bench next to her, he waited for her to acknowledge his presence.

“What is it you wish, my Lord?” She inquired lightly, her thoughts obviously turned elsewhere. She had begun to adopt Erestor and Lantare’s speech patterns.

“I have received a missive from Forlindon. It seems that we are being summoned to court. King Gil-Galad wishes to discuss your petition for help.” Glorfindel paused noting the frown that marred Faile’s brow. “What is it, Pen’tithen?” He asked with a sigh. “Are you worried about appearing before our King?”

“Nay. He is not my liege and holds no sway over me or mine.” Faile hesitated unsure of how to proceed. “I… I saw something today and I am not sure what to make of it.”

Glorfindel reached out and gently tucked a stray lock behind Faile’s ear. “What was it? It is obviously distressing you.”

“I saw one Elf sucking the air from another. I do not understand this. What purpose does it serve? They both obviously enjoyed it because they smiled when they were done.” She turned and looked at Glorfindel expectantly, awaiting his explanation.

Glorfindel groaned to himself. He searched her eyes for signs that she was jesting but was surprised to see only curiosity. Perhaps, the young of the Moriquendi were sheltered from the intimacies shared between life mates. “They were kissing. It is a show of affection between two Elves and typically it starts during the courting phase.”

Faile continued to frown. “It is muchplerpler to just rub noses.”

Glorfindel froze, remembering the events in the meadow and Faile’s coldness that evening upon their return. He suddenly had the overwhelming feeling that he had rejected her unknowingly. “What do you mean, Faile?”

Faile blushed lightly and looked away. “If someone wants ton win with another, usually their life mate, they rub the other’s nose to show their interest. Your way is dangerous. How can you watch for enemies if you are distracted in such a way?” She hesitated before continuing, “If they are both in agret ant and they are in the keep. Then they… you know.” She blushed even hard and pretended to show a great interest in a low, flowering bush next to the bench.

Glorfindel cursed out loud. He reached over and gently grabbed her chin, turning her to face him once again. “I have wronged you, and for that, I am truly sorry. I did not know, we do not have that custom.” He could not mistake the hurt look in her eyes before they lowered. He gently rubbed his thumb along her scar. “The years weigh heavily on me and I took advantage of your youth, your inexperience. It was wrong of me. I would never purposely cause you pain.”

Faile’s eyes locked with his, a faint hope shining from their ebony depths. His thumb traced hips ips and she parted them unconsciously, curiosity overruling ingrained survival instincts. Glorfindel needed no further encouragement.

Faile was quickly captured by his kiss. She jumped slightly as his tongue lightly caressed hers, sending a not unpleasant jolt down her spine. Unsure of herself, she tentatively rubbed her tongue against his.

Glorfindel groaned at her innocent response and deepened the kiss. Thoughts of age and duty faded. He had loved once before in his youth and wo sto stranger to the ins and outs of courtship. His competition, however, had proven to be more skilled and had won the maid’s hand. The sudden memory of heartbreak caused him to pull away breaking the kiss. “I am truly sorry, Faile. Forgive me but I cannot.”

“What have I done wrong?” Faile cried, confused by Glorfindel’s reaction to the kiss. Perhaps she had not performed it correctly.

“Nothing, Pen’tithen. I was wrong to take advantage of your curiosity.” He rose quickly before adding, “If you will excuse me, I must see to the arrangements for our journey to court.” He turned and left the glade before she could respond.

Faile felt as if she had been kicked in the gut. Fighting back tears, she fled from the glade, through the tiers and levels of the cliff side park. Many noted her passing but none moved to hinder her flight. Faile reached the outer wall before stopping to catch her breath. Hurt had turned to rage and she vowed not to stay another night. Realizing that she had been left unguarded, Faile knew that another opportunity was unlikely to present itself. She moved stealthy along the wall until she had a clear view of the courtyard and stables. She silently thanked the gods that Lantare had brought her a green gown that morning as it helped her to blend in with the foliage.

It wasn’t long before she observed two Elves dressed in woodland garb enter a small door half hidden by a small tree. They returned moments later carrying weapons and headed into the stables. Faile waited patiently until the wardens had left through the gates before making her way to the door. She pressed her ear to the warm wood and listened intently for any sounds coming from the room beyond. Satisfied that the room was unoccupied, she quickly entered.

The armory was filled with racks, shelves and bins that reached to the ceiling. The left side of the room was reserved for armor and shields while thght ght held weapons of all types, including spears and axes.

Faile noted that many of the bins were permanently marked with the names of their owners. On a hunch, Faile quickly scanned the labels until she found one marked with Glorfindel’s name. She smiled as she reached in to find her weapons and armor nestled among his.

She quickly stripped off her gown and pulled out her armor and undergarments. She noted with surprise that her armor had been cleaned and embossed with a subtle leaf pattern. She quickly donned it and reached for her boots. Finally, she fastened her weapons to her back and was turning to leave when a dagger in the bin caught her eye. The leather sheath was stained black and inlayed with gold scrollwork. The golden handle of the dagger was engraved with celandine set amid a twisting leafy vine. The pummel was topped with a large, golden gem that gleamed in the torchlight. Faile was unable to resist taking the dagger; she told herself that she would need it during the journey, unwilling to admit to herself that it was an appropriate memento of Glorfindel.

Her pack was missing but she found several small packs with basic traveling supplies in them. Glancing about the room, she noticed her gown lying on the floor. She quickly scooped it up and stuffed it into the bin below Glorfindel’s. Turning she walked to the door and ked ked it to survey the courtyard beyond. Finding it empty, she slipped from the building and headed back towards the wall. Knowing that she would never be able to exit through the gates unseen, she climbed a tree next to the wall. With a light spring, she easily crossed to a tree on the opposite side of the wall, climbing down; she disappeared into the dense foliage beyond the wall.

*~*

An hour before dinner, a frantic Lantare burst into Imladris’ library where Glorfindel was making final arrangements with Erestor.

“My Lords, Lady Faile is missing. We have searched the gardens and she is not in her room.” She informed them without preamble.

Glorfindel was unconcerned, figuring Faile was off in some quite corner nursing a bruised heart.

Erestor, unaware of what had passed between earlier, left immediately to arrange a search of the grounds.

“Do not worry, Lantare. I am sure she is just off brooding in a quiet corner somewhere. Are her things ready? For I would leave early in the morning and do not want to be delayed.”

Lantare wringed her hands nervously and wondered at Glorfindel’s apparent lack of concern for the missing girl. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Good. Come now, enough of your hand wringing. I have never known Lady Faile to miss a meal. She will turn up for dinner, no doubt quite pleased at escaping her bath.” Glorfindel smiled at the worried woman.

His carefree attitude was short-lived for at that moment a warden entered into the library carrying a familiar green gown. “My Lord, I found this in my locker.”

“I will beat that chit within an inch of her life”, Glorfindel roared, his eyes darkening to a deep indigo. “See that her things are taken to the stables immediately. It seems the Lady is most anxious to begin our journey.”

Lantare did not need to be told twice and scurried from the room. She would not want to be in Faile’s shoes when Glorfindel finally caught up with her.

Next he addressed the warden. “Gather my escort, I would leave within the hour.” The warden bowed and left the room.

End Chapter Three

Imladris – Rivendell (Sindarin: deep-dale-cleft)
Celegtâl – Swift of Foot (Sindarin)
Bruinen – loud-water (Sindarin)
Arda – Middle Earth (Quenya: region, realm)
Ethuil – budding, late Spring (Sindarin)
Pen’tithen – Little One (Sindarin)
Eldar – people of the stars; another name for Elves (Quenya)
Calaquendi – Light Elves: Name given to the Elves that saw the Light of the Two Trees (Quenya)
ihosihos – Foul Folk (Quenya)
Mar Mordollo – Home out of Shadow (Quenya)
Ailinon – Water Lily (Quenya)
Ârhuin Gûr ll – King’s Death (Sindarin)
Forlindon – City where Gil-galad lived during the Second Age (Sindarin: north Lindon)