“ Watch him well. He has never gone orc hunting before. I cannot believe I have agreed to let him do this,” Glorfindel said.
“ Glórhen is well trained. He has the skills of an up and coming Elf-lord, though he is young,” Elladan replied, “ He will be safe. I can guarantee that Elrohir and I will keep both our eyes on him.”
“ I am ready,” the 17 year old looking Glórhen ran up with Arwen not too far behind.
“ Listen well to Elladan and Elrohir. And mind Arathorn also,” Glorfindel ordered.
“ Come now, Father. You will have nothing to worry about,” Glórhen mounted cockily.
Glorfindel stilled his middle child’s horse.
“ Your mother told me these words before I left to battle the witch-king and I pass them on to you. Cockiness is the path to death,” Glorfindel said softly, “ Be on your guard. Orcs are not as stupid as many think.”
Glórhen threw his gold hair over one shoulder rakishly before joining the other lords with a grin. Glorfindel looked at Arwen.
“Caro im achas an úthelo (Do I fear for no purpose)?” Glorfindel asked.
Arwen shrugged, a small smile on her face as she watched Glórhen go. Glorfindel tried to keep the smile to himself. It was no secret that his son and Elrond’s daughter had fallen for each other. Glorfindel’s eyes shadowed as he watched the small figures travel on. He never did see his son again until Glorfindel himself walked the halls of Mandos.
Elrohir galloped up with a woman riding in front of him. Elrond rushed out with Êlenrana close behind him. Glorfindel was away in Mirkwood, keeping an eye on Dol Guldur with Mithrandir.
“ Father, this is Gilraen, Arathorn’s wife and Aragorn, their son. Arathorn is dead,” Elrohir said.
“ Welcome to Imladris,” Êlenrana began with a smile.
“ Are you the lady, Êlenrana?” Gilraen asked nervously, her brown eyes darting about under her dark brown bangs.
“ Yes,” Êlenrana nodded.
“ My son and I are forever indebted to you for raising such a brave son. He saved our lives. The orcs had found us. He gave up his life so that we might live,” Gilraen said.
Êlenrana’s hand fell from her mouth to the broach holding her hooded cape at her throat. A strangled cry was emitted from her before she fell to her knees in the mud. The rain poured in sheets now as her tears came. A little hand wiped one away.
“ Tear,” he said.
Êlenrana looked up at the dark haired boy.
“ Rain,” the boy giggled, splashing a puddle, “ Mud.”
“ Please, take my son to care for,” Gilraen urged, “ You shall act as an adoptive mother and Elrond his father. Please do this for me.”
“ He will not replace the one I lost, but I will care for him as you have asked,” Êlenrana nodded, “ He is my estel (hope).”
“ As he shall be called from this day forth. Not one of us is to utter a word of his lineage, save that he is of my blood,” Elrond ordered, “ Glorfindel will be told of course.”
Estel buried his face in Êlenrana’s shoulder as the flames leapt up. Glorfindel watched with unchecked tears as his son was put to rest. Imuialion kept his eyes downcast, standing next to Arwen who stood beside her grandparents. Tears ran down Arwen’s face as she did not try to hide them. Though there was a huge age gap, Elrond and Glorfindel had spoke of betrothing the 2 as a reminder of the friendship between the houses. Arwen had chosen to go back to Lorien for a while.
Glorfindel glanced at the little boy Êlenrana held. The boy’s bright golden brown eyes peered up at his through his long bangs. Estel reached out his arms to Glorfindel. The little boy snuggled in his arms like Glórhen once had. Glorfindel abruptly placed Estel back in Êlenrana’s arms. The mortal would never take his son’s place.
Glorfindel passed by Estel’s rooms to hear crying that night.
“ Nana? Ada?” the little boy’s voice began to rise in desperation, “ Nana? Ada?”
Glorfindel pushed the door open a little, but enough that Estel caught sight of him.
“ Ada,” Estel crawled over his covers to the edge of his bed, “ It dark. No like dark.”
Glorfindel just stared. He couldn’t love this child. Not this one. This one had taken his son from him.
“ Ada, it dark. Please,” Estel reached out his tiny arms to Glorfindel.
The father in Glorfindel won out in the end. He swung Estel up into his arms.
“ I am Glorfindel, Estel,” Glorfindel said, “ Not Ada.”
“ Glor…” Estel’s brow puckered in confusion.
“ Glorfindel,” Glorfindel repeated.
“ Glor…fin,” Estel’s eyes drooped, “ El…”
Glorfindel softly sang Estel to sleep until he fell asleep himself with the boy still in his arms.
“ Good morning, Ada, Glorfindel. I see the paperwork is biting again,” 15 year old Estel entered, chewing on an apple.
“ What brings you to the library?” Glorfindel asked, “ This is the last place I’d expect you.”
The dark haired child had grown steadily, changing with the passing years, while both the Elves had remained untouched.
“ Nana Êlenrana spoke of Beren and Lúthien. I have no idea who they are,” Estel began.
“ They are mine and your ancestors, one of the 2 unions between the Eldar and Edain. The other union was between my father’s parents,” Elrond interrupted.
“ Tell me more,” Estel pulled up a chair.
Glorfindel smiled before beginning to sing.
The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinúviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.
There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elvin-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.
Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She lightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.
He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beachen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.
He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hill-top high and far
She danced, and at her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.
When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water bubbling.
He saw the elfin-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.
Again she fled, but swift he came.
He called her by her elvish name;
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinúviel
That in his arms lay glistening.
As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tinúviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.
Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and gray,
Through halls of ireon and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And long ago they passed away
In the forest singing sorrowless.
Estel’s eyes were full of light when Glorfindel finished.
“ Where is that at so I might memorize it? It is beautiful,” Estel asked.
“ Try the books over there. It is the Lay, L-A-Y, of Beren, B-E-R-E-N, and Lúthien, L-U-T-H-I-E-N,” Elrond answered, spelling each word.
Estel scampered off as Glorfindel sighed.
“ He is much like Glórhen,” Elrond said, “ But his fate will be much different.”
“ I know. Êlenrana says little, but I can tell she thinks the same,” Glorfindel replied.
“ Who is Glórhen?” Estel asked, plopping back down in his chair with his coveted book.
“ My son,” Glorfindel answered, “ He died 13 years ago.”
“ I do not remember him,” Estel said.
“ You had just come to Imladris. Leastways, you would remember only the funeral,” Glorfindel replied, “ Excuse me.”
Estel watched Glorfindel go.
“ What happened to his son? I thought he had only Imuialion,” Estel asked.
“ Kilt by orcs when saving the wife and child of the King of the Dúnedain,” Elrond answered, “ You are a lot like him. That is something to strive for, save his cockiness. Cockiness led to his death.”
Estel nodded, soaking up the information like a dry sponge. Estel picked up his book and left.
Estel searched for a quiet place and heard singing. He found Êlenrana and was about to join her when he saw Glorfindel joining her. His voice joined hers in the Elvish song. Estel watched as the 2 seemed to converse between each other, both seeming to be in pain. Estel began to slip away, as to not bother them and ran smack dab into Elrond.
“ Spying, eh?” Elrond asked.
“ I did not mean to,” Estel answered.
“ Come. I just happen to have 2 bows ready,” Elrond said.
Estel grinned, trading in the book for a bow.