A Breath of Fate

Ingrel had just finished packing her bags when there was sharp knock at her door. Setting the folded shirt onto the bed, Ingrel walked to the door and unlatched it, peeking around the corner to see who it was.

Glorfindel stood there, glaring at her impatiently. “Are you going to let me enter, or not?”

Sticking her tongue out, Ingrel nevertheless opened to door and let him enter. She returned to her packing, tucking in the last shirt before tying the bag closed. Glorfindel eyed the bag and then heaved a great sigh. “I have decided not to fight your decision and let you come with us.”

“I knew you would,” Ingrel stated matter of fact. “You have always known my stubborn will would have it no other way.”

The golden Elda sank into the softness of her bed and nodded ruefully. “You have not changed a wit since I last saw you.”

Ingrel snorted, rather unladylike, and shot back, “Would you really want me to?”

Suddenly serious, Glorfindel pulled Ingrel down next to him. “My friend, you must listen to me. I have no wish to bully you or control you, but in this land, we survive by quick actions and heeding the wisdom of others. I have lived in this land for thousands of years and I need to know that you will heed my words without argument. It is not power, but necessity. Your life is at stake every minute you reside here.”

“I know, Glorfindel,” Ingrel said, also serious. “I shall try my very best, but old habits are difficult to break. Besides, my father’s blood runs in my veins and this land speaks to me. It knows that Ingwë’s kin once more walks its paths.”

“For your sake, I hope it likes you,” Glorfindel muttered, “A more troublesome Elda I have never met, I can assure you.”

Laughing, Ingrel smacked her friend with a pillow. “You are still incorrigible, Glorfindel.”

He grimaced. “Now you sound like my amil.”

“She sends greetings, by the way, and her love. I think she misses you a great deal. And…” Here, she paused, her fingers plucking the coverlet.

“What is it, Ingrel?” Glorfindel asked his voice sharp.

“Your atar has returned from Mandos’ Halls. He relereleased several weeks before my departure. I managed to meet with him. He…wanted me to tell you how very proud of you he is.” Ingrel chuckled quietly, thinking of the memories. “I heard he crowed for days about your brave and noble deeds. In fact, your sister grew so tired of it; she stuffer eer ears with fabric and refused to leave her room until he was finished.”

Glorfindel blushed and smiled widely. “It lightens my heart to know my amil is once more reunited with my atar. I know how difficult it was for her to bear those long years alone.”

“I have more good news. I have it on the very best authority that Finrod Felagund will be released soon and Amarië has not bound herself to any of the Elda,” Ingrel grinned impishly. “My dearest friend will be working very hard to reunite them.”

“And who is your dearest friend?” Glorfindel asked, raising an eyebrow. Here Silnar paused uncertainly.

“She is also a dear friend of yours, recently come to our lands.”

Taking a deep breath, Glorfindel asked, “Is she happy? Tell me truly that much.”

Ingrel nodded slowly. “She misses you a great deal, though. She loves you so much, Glorfindel, any one can see it.”

Reaching over, Glorfindel enveloped Ingrel in a tight hug. “Thank you so much, my friend. Your response has made this burden easier to bear.”

Returning the hug, Ingrel wanted to weep for the pain her friend was forced to endure. Glorfindel released her and crossed his arms. “Now, tell me the real reason that you are here, Ingrel. Do not try and feed me some silly tale of bringing me news.”

Sighing, Ingrel stood and fiddled with her pack. “You will think me extremely silly, Glorfindel.”

“I already think you silly, Ingrel; it would be difficult to alter that!”

“Glorfindel,” she protested, hitting him with another pillow. “I am trying to be earnest and you are such a tease.”

“Forgive me, mellon, continue with your explanation.”

Ingrel moved to her dresser and moved some of the glass bottles absently. “It began with a dream, actually. A vision calling to me. He is in so much pain, Glorfindel and my heart would burn with grief. I do not know how I know, but he resides in this land and he needs me to heal him. And perhaps, I need him too.”

Glorfindel, for all his teasing, was the most understanding of Ingrel’s nature. She had always been a healer, a lover of all things that grew and lived. Her hands were not meant for war or bloodshed and he sincerely hoped it would be avoided.
“I do not think it foolish at all, mellon. In truth, I find you to be very brave to risk all for this unknown face.”

Ingrel felt slightly guilty for not sharing who the face was, but she had no wish to embroil her friend in this mystery, especially since he was loaded with responsibility as it was. “I thank you for your understanding.”

Both were quiet for awhile, comfortable in that silence that old friends will produce. A knock at the door interrupted their reverie. The door opened on Ingrel’s bid to enter and Círdan strode into the room, his eyes bright and a small smile playing on his lips.

“I am sorry to disturb you, but Elrond is impatient to be on his way. Will the Princess be accompanying you?”

Glorfindel faked a grimace, but nodded. “I see no other recourse. If I set her on a boat she would decide to follow the tale of Amroth and dive into the waters, swimming back to the Haven.”

“You are correct in that estimation,” Ingrel countered impishly, shouldering her pack. “I do hate to burden you, Círdan, but I have no horse.”

“I have already provided you with one, Ingrel. Consider it a gift to one as fair and lovely as yourself.”

Ingrel blushed and pressed a kiss to Círdan’s cheek. “Thank you, Círdan, you are a delight.”

The aged Lord of the Havens blushed slightly and patted Ingrel’s hand. “Yes, well, I hope to see you in the future, Ingrel, returning to the land of our Fathers.”

“Of course, my lord,” Ingrel grinned cheekily, dropping into a curtsy. The solemn effect was ruined with her wicked smile.

“Go, Ingrel,” Glorfindel said, “I know you are eager to see what horse Círdan has picked out for you.”

With a flash of her skirts, Ingrel had departed the room, fairly flying down the stairs and out into the blinding sun light. Squinting to acclimate herself, Ingrel saw where several horses awaited, only two were unmanned. One clearly belonged to Glorfindel; for it bore the halter she had woven for him so long ago. She approached his white horse and fingered the halter, her mind remembering the day she had gifted him with it. He was returning to Arda, prepared to live one more life there, and she had wanted him to remember her.

“It is good craftsmanship,” a voice said behind her. She turned to see one of the sons of Elrond staring at her. Stifling the urge to blush, Ingrel nodded. “Glorfindel has had it for as long as I have known him. It has never needed repair or replacement.”

“I should hope not,” Ingrel said, somewhat stiffly, “Since I am the one who crafted for him.”

“Truly,” the Elda said, coming close enough to touch it himself. “You are skilled.”

“Thank you, but it is actually a poor job and I have made better since. My brother taught me and this was my first attempt.”

“Will you be traveling with us to Imladris?”

Ingrel looked up into his cool gray eyes and nodded. “I am to be a guest of Glorfindel. Which brother are you?”

He laughed. “I am Elrohir, forgive me. I sometimes forget that many can not tell us apart.”

“You do look remarkably alike. I do not know you, however, so perhaps therein lay my difficulty. It has always been easy for me to see the difference between twins.”

Elrohir nodded, “Are you a twin?”

Chuckling, Ingrel shook her head. “Glorfindel would fling himself from a cliff if I were duplicated. No, my brother, Ingil, was blessed with twins and I was once friends with Amras and Amrod.”

“You were born in the Year of the Trees?” Elrohir queried, shocked.

“Yes, several years after Amrod and Amras. I only knew them because Glorfindel and I were friends. You see, he is related, somewhat distantly to Galadriel, who is the granddaughter of Indis, who is my Aunt. So, when I went to visit Galadriel, she would often be in the company of her cousin, Aredhel, who was close in companionship with the sons of Fëanor. That is how I grew to be fri wit with the twins. They were unlike their brothers in many ways, but in the end, the same, for they departed as well.”

Ingrel paused, and bit her lip. “I am sorry. I suppose that was more history than you wished to hear.”

Elrohir shook his head. “No, history has always intrigued me, especially when it concerns Eldar. You knew many great people.”

“I did,” Ingrel said, “But in those days, everyone knew everyone and all were happy.” She sighed wistfully. “Many times I wish for those days again, but much has changed, too much.”

“It is nice to see that the long years have not troubled your heart as they do many of our kind,” Elrohir observed, running his hand down the face of Glorfindel’s horse.

“In the land of Aman, it is rare to find an Elda who is troubled by the years, especially in those who have never come to this land.”

“Why hyou you come here?” Elrohir asked. “Why did you leave the safety and peace of Aman?”

Ingrel hesitated, unsure how to answer, when she was saved by the voice of Glorfindel. “I hope that you recognize that is notr hor horse,” he called.

Turning, Ingrel smiled. “Aye, I noticed you still use my halter.”

Grinning, Glorfindel mounted his horse saying, “How could I not when the memory of its gifting is so…memorable!”

Laughing, Ingrel moved to the horse Círdan had selected. A white mare with a mane and tail of gold; she whickered as Ingrel drew near. “You are a wretch to remind me of it.”

“You are both wretched to leave me in the darkness,” Elrohir complained. “What is so memorable?”

“I shall not embarrass Ingrel,” Glorfindel said, feeling magnanimous. “Perhaps you can coerce the fair Princess to reveal the tale.”

“I would not tell such a tale even if twenty Balrogs threatened you, Glorfindel.”

The Slayer laughed back at her saying, “There would be no need, for I would destroy them all.”

Ingrel grumbled under her breath as she ran her hands over her horse, allowing the horse to know her touch. “What is this mare’s name?” She asked.

“I have called her Feiriel, radiant lady. She will serve you well in the coming years, I think.”

“I thank you again, Círdan,” Ingrel said, embracing him, “For all that you have done in kindness to me.”

“I would do it again, Princess, for your kindnand and heart have fair lifted mine in these trying times. Be careful and know I will always welcome you.”

Ingrel mounted Feiriel and placed herself beside Glorfindel. Elrohir steered his own horse to her side and Ingrel felt somewhat giddy to have him next to her. His brother raised an eyebrow but stayed by the side of his sister, who seemed lost and alone. Ingrel’s heart wept for this lost daughter, it was always difficult to say goodbye to a mother.

Elrond exchanged words with Círdan and then mounted his horse. Glorfindel patted Ingrel’s hand and she nodded, understanding this forlorn Lord needed the presence of his best friend. Besides, Elrohir had already begun to distract her with anecdotes of his life spent in Imladris, and Ingrel was eager to hear all she could of the home that had kept Glorfindel from Aman and his true love.