By Elbereth's Hand

Glorfindel rolled over in his bed, Haldir's protective arm draped
lightly across his hips.Despite the ssemingly nonstop activity of
the day, he could not fall asleep. Everytime he closed his eyes the
spectres of hi past brushed his mind anew leaving him restless and
uneasy. He had hoped that returning to the familiarity of his city
would allay the unsettledness that had had nagged at him since
Vhaelvryn had returned Elrond's pendant, but it seemed the amber
trinket had done nothing but stir the ghosts to life again.

Glorfindel glanced over to the dimly lit night table, the cool light
of Ithil glinting against the bauble making its surface swim with
honeyed warmth. He had managed to keep the memories silent for most
of the journey to Imladris, the good natured sparring between Haldir
and the gypsy holding his attention, but now, in the quiet of the
night, hist cst called out to him begging to be recognized.

Slipping quietly from the warmth of the bed and his lovers tender
embrace, Glorfindel padded over to the open balcony door, the
moonlight that streamed into the room washing his skin translucent.

In the shadowed distance the lone silhouette of a sentry passed
across the horizon, the scene too oddly familiar. The recognition of
the rather matter of fact event should have been comforting, but it
only made the golden Lord more tense.

Elrond's presence was everywhere he turned, in the scrolls that
stacked upon his desk, to the twisting vines that snaked about his
balcony railing , and even in the silent statues that rested within
the garden walls.

Elrond Peredhil had passed.

Glorfindel had recalled Elrohir's unease after Celebrian had
journeyed west. The poor lad had paced for weeks, barely eating or
sleeping, unable to find peace. He had endured his mother's long
absences while in Lorien without incident, but the prospect of living
permanently without her was very daunting. The golden Lord had found
him one night curled upon himself in the solarium, a favorite spot of
the Lady of Imladris, his fingers wrapped tightly in the colored
threads of her weaving.
"She will never finish this...", he had confided to Glorfindel
tearfully, the ivory shuttle peeking out from between the folds of
his tunic.
The golden Lord had held him tightly and explained to the young
Peredhil about change and how even though they as Eldar would live in
Arda for as long as they could bear it, they would have to accept
change, even embrace it, in order to remain content. The past, at
times, had to be released in order to move into the future, otherwise
they would stagnate and fade away, locked in the memories of moments
that had already served their purpose.
Perhaps, thought Glorfindel as he swallowed yet another twinge of
regret, it was time he heeded his own advice.

Crossing quietly to his wardrobe, he retrieved a soft pair of doeskin
breeches and one of his favorite tunic, a silvery gray wrapped style
garment. Dressing in the dim light, he freed his hair and shook the
golden mane until laid in loose waves about his shoulders.

Reaching back into his wardrobe for a pair of spare boots, his hand
brushed across a small box almost concealed within the dark recesses
of the cabinet. Pulling it out into the moonlight, he opened the tiny
package revealing the small trinket he had almost forgotten.
Tentative fingers raised the keepsake to his nose, the soft scent of
greening earth still clinging to the pale silvered strands of hair so
lovingly plaited.

Glorfindel glanced over at Haldir who still lay deep in slumber, his
soft breath and peaceful repose in stark contrast to his waking
personae. The golden Lord had found such happiness and completion
within this gentle warriors arms, something he had been searching for
his whole life, and now that he had found it he would not let it go
again.

Wrapping his fingers tightly around the beribboned offering,
Glorfindel sighed, knowing what he had to do.

With silent steps, he crossed the chamber and placed the token upon
his pillow, the back of his hand brushing the March Wardens warm
cheek.
' Amin mela lle Haldir..."' he whispered, his voice barely louder
than a breath.

Scooping up the amber pendant from the table,he tucked it into he
waist of his breeches and pulled on his boots.

Heading out into the quiet night, Glorfindel set out upon a path that
would silence his memories and allow his past to finally rest in
peace.