Disclaimer: No, I do not own Aragorn/Estel, Glorfindel, or the twins. A one-line quote was generated when reading up T. S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land”, and there are some phrases that I am sure I did not invent but could not track where they come from, tell me if you know. However, Virién/Virgil and his mother are mine… as well as any OCs –I think there’s starting to be too many OCs, but that can’t be avoided in this case.04b-Shattered Security-Questioning Change

The sky was grey, there was no cloud. The sun was a distant radiance that offers none of its heat, shining directly into his eyes. The ravine was narrow, but still far enough apart so that Virien was too far away from both sides of the ravine to stick Isciath to the rock and stop his falling.

Someone shouted his name as he fell, but even if he looked up, he would see no face, the winter sun would be in his eyes and it was too bright for him to see any face.

And what good would it do? Looking up?

Now he was close enough to the bottom of the ravine to see that there was a stream running under the trees and foliage, but it was frozen solid.

Closing his eyes, Virién flexed and gain himself enough momentum to turn in air, and proceed to wheel around twice in the air in an effort to slow his falling. He was only partially successful, ending up crashing to the river feet first.

The current under the ice cover of the river took him off balance, and sent him crashing down painfully against sharp, jagged rocks and carried him for a brief, rough ride, crashing him from one sharp rock to another and breaking the thin white cover of the stream before he finally managed to catch hold of a big rock with his left hand, tearing open a bleeding gash on his palm in the process, and dragged himself against the sideway current and managing to pull himself up to the bank of the stream, miraculously wide enough for him to lay down heaving for breath under frost covered trees.

As he regained his breath, Virién tried to pull himself up, but his right hand –his sword hand- would not move to his will, and pulling himself up by his left hand, he soon discover that his left leg was not being cooperative either.

Isciath was soon used as a stick to manoeuvre himself to a position where he could lean against a tree trunk, and it was not until a while later, when Virién felt the cold of the river and it occurred to him that he was uncomfortable being drenched from head to toe.

Thankfully, the dye in his hair had not come out.

“Of all the rotten luck…” With a sigh, Virién laid his head back against the trunk of the tree and whistled a long, ghostly tune, and for a long time it echoed up the ravine.

“Is there anyway that we could go down?” Elladan asked loudly just before a ghostly tune rang out and Hyperion, with a war neigh, ran off. “Hey! Come back you ugly brute! Virién would have my head!” Elladan’s shout had an oddly subdued tone as he chased after the huge stallion, Elrohir following closely behind him, just as subdued.

Halgoreth sighed shakily, the Lady would no doubt be far than pleased with this event, he quickly dispatched a brotherhood of three to go and rescue the wounded elf across the ravine. One of the older elves that had worked beside him previously held out a hand to call his attention.

His name was Nomergil, Halgoreth recalled, a fairer hand with his bow rather than his sword, a skilled ally. “Do you think he would have survived?”

“Virién?” Halgoreth frowned; there was a mixed tone in Nomergil’s voice. “I could not say for sure, however, I keep hope that he survives.” As Normegil nodded slowly to his words, it occurred to him that he might as well ask. “I see that most of you hold Virién in a mixed esteem. Is that not so?”

Normegil looked sharply at him, and there was a pause before the elf answered, “Most of us could not help but be a little bitter toward him, I have to admit.” There was that bitterness evident in Nomergil’s voice, “He showed up out of the sudden one day, and Lord Glorfindel’s favourite. He hardly shows the Princes any respect, and nor does he treated Lord Glorfindel with any. What we could not discern is why both the Princes and Lord Glorfindel endured him.”

“But?” Halgoreth prompted. As there was mixed feeling, bitterness must not be the only this they felt for this stranger.

“But he was strong, and when he was not hiding in the background, we look at him and could not help but look up to him.”

Halgoreth smiled, “Just like the Princes?”

“Just like the Princes.” Normegil agreed. “He was more than alike to Lord Glorfindel in that they both commanded respect and at times shows little of it to people they were familiar with. But unlike Lord Glorfindel, Virién is… distantly polite, almost.”

“Except to Lord Glorfindel and the Princes.”

“And to Lord Elrond.”

Halgoreth’s mouth dropped open. “And to Lord Elrond?” He almost screeched. There was no denying that for all the elven folks’ informality, they all esteemed Elrond very highly. None but his wife, his children and Glorfindel calls and refers to him as anything but a Lord.

“Not to the same degree, perhaps, he does call Elrond with his title.”

Halgoreth grunted as he finally closed his mouth, “Odd elf.”

“We can all agree with that.”

There was a pause, and when Halgoreth had thought of what he wanted to ask, the three brothers returned with the wounded elf, which they quickly bundle up beside the fire they had going. It turned out that the elf was a messenger from Lindon, and had been ambushed by Wargs three days before, hence why he was sitting on a tree.

By the time Elladan and Elrohir returned after loosing track of Hyperion, the elf was deeply asleep, and the day had sank to a late evening. Halgoreth and Normegil had quickly assured the distressed twin that there was a way to go down to the bottom of the ravine, but it would take only a little less than half a day, and it was already late. They could not all move around freely with the addition of the wounded elf that the Princes had been adamant of saving earlier. It was not safe to move around in the dark, and the path leading down the ravine was more than dangerous, a very unfavourable condition to be tread in the dark.

The Princes finally agreed, albeit grudgingly, that it is not prudent to go down the path now, but they would be leaving the campsite to search for Virién the first thing in the morning.

It was a little way after midnight, and other than the sentry all were sleeping, all except the twin sons of Elrond. It had been a grim night, Elladan was unapproachable, and no one had the inclination to sing or be merry.

“Elladan?” Elrohir called out tentatively, and repeat the call when his older brother did not reply.

It was some time before the elder of the twin looked away from the ravine by which side he had been kneeling, looking down desperately. “We should have listened.”

“To Virién?”

“Who else!” Elladan whirled around to face his twin, and Elrohir could only choked back on tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes at the look of utter guilt and self-disgust on his brother’s face. “I-“ Elladan choked, “I wish I had-“

Elrohir could not find anything to say, nothing that would not just make things worse. Finally, he could only attempt to delay, “Let us go to sleep-“

“Sleep!”

“-Or we would probably be far too tired to be of any use tomorrow. We want to help Virién, not hinder the other’s progress of finding him.” Elrohir went on as if he had not been interrupted and attempt to glare down his brother’s enraged eyes.

Elladan looked like he would protest, but even he eventually thought better of it. “You are right, brother. We should rest.” Elrohir smiled tentatively at him and led the way back to the campfire. Tomorrow, they would face the truth.

Meanwhile, down the ravine, Hyperion was standing beside the river as his master struggled into dry clothes. Virién risked no fire, but he had brought with him the warmth-kindling firestone Estel had slipped into his saddlebag, and it was hot enough to substitute a small fire, it was enough, at least, to let him dry his hair.

Virién had, after Hyperion made its way down to him, tried his best to set his broken leg and arm. The leg was a clean break, and the two pieces slid back to place quite easily and with only moderate pain, he had then used his left hand and mouth to tie up a makeshift cast. The arm, however, was another matter. It was broken in at least two places, and the pieces were not anywhere near clean break. He had done his best to reset it, until tears come to his eyes and he gritted his teeth so hard he was surprised they weren’t cracking, but he realized quite quickly that it just wouldn’t fit nicely.

And it was his sword arm too.

Elladan and Elrohir would be horrified.

Horrified twins meaning that they’d be trying to smother him in cotton, and Virién’s thought had escalated to near panic before he forced himself to calm down.

He could not fake the leg, but he could very well lie about the arm and anyone would be none the wiser for it. Until he get back to Imladris, that was.

He just wished that there would be no trouble on the way back home. If any occurs… He shudders to think of how the twins would be hovering around him.

And wondered how long of it would he take before losing his temper.

With a sigh, he propped himself up by using Isciath as a stick and bundled his wet clothes around the firestone –so that the heat from the stone would dry the clothes- and into his saddlebag. Clinching the strap closed, he patted Hyperion’s rump lightly and it turned around so that its’ right side faced him, and he used his left hand to vault up unto the stallion’s back.

“Here goes nothing.” Virién muttered and tapped Hyperion’s neck lightly, and the horse cantered into the night.

Early morning, the sky was still that grey bluish hue of fake dawn, and night had yet to completely fallen away when the sentry squawked in surprise.

The undignified squawk woke the twin Princes –who happen to be sleeping closest- with a grunt of slight drowsy protest. “What-“

“Go back to sleep, you lazeabouts.”

Rather than returning the twins to sleep, that voice has the same effect as a bucket of cold water, and their suddenly sharp senses registered that they should not be hearing that voices before going down the ravine today. They turned from the fire, eyes wide open, to see Virién sitting astride his stallion, looking mildly amused, no doubt at the twins and the slack-jawed sentry.

“Virién!”

“You are alive!”

The half-elf gave them a funny look, “Of course I am alive, you dummies, would I be here otherwise?”

There was a long pause where they just stared at each other, and then Elladan burst into tears, while Elrohir looked like he might follow his brother’s example at any moment.

Bewilderment flitted across Virién’s face, quickly replaced with worry. He jumped down from his horse and limped toward the twins easily, sinking down to sit before them, mindful of his broken leg. “There, there, please don’t cry.” He said uneasily, “Was it something I said?”

Both shook their head, Virién’s uneasiness grew.

“Did something happen while I was gone?”

Another negative. Virién grew increasingly more worried.

“Were you hurt?”

Again, both shook their heads.

“Then what is the problem?”

There was a pause after the outburst, then Elrohir, too, burst into tears and both brothers flung themselves at a stunned Virién.

“We thought you were-“

“-Gone!”

“And it would-“

“-be all our faults!”

“Again!”

The last one was spoken with so much fear and guilt that Virién was almost knocked down from the force of that twin exclamation. It was much belatedly that he remembered that neither of the twins had quite forgiven themselves for not being able to protect Arathorn II and it had been brought about with carelessness and unwillingness to listen as much as this incident had been.

He should have realized that it would have been heavy on their conscience. Such burdens that elves were unaccustomed to carry, and that the twins were, even if they were the children of Elrond Half-Elven, were as much an elf as the full-blooded elves they grew up with.

Tears, Virién surmised, was good. They were an outlet, and having such was always much better than keeping it all bottled up inside. That would kill.

They wept for Arathorn too.

And so he let them cried, clinging to him, with him mindful enough of his broken leg to keep it out of harm’s way, and did his best to wrap his arms –no easy task, one was broken, after all- around the sobbing Princes –awkwardly, he was never used to be so tactile.

Well, he thought helplessly, they certainly have woken up the entire camp; he could feel bewildered eyes directed at his direction. There was nothing he could do at the moment, however, as that would entailed that he force the twins to let go of their hold, and at the moment he did not want to do that.

Eventually, though, their sobbing subsided, the twins recalled themselves and let go of Virién with much embarrassment.

“We’re sorry.”

“It’s just that-“

Virién held up his left hand wearily, “I know, there is no need to explain it.” He finally looked around him. The rest of the little gathering was watching, just like he had predicted.

Halgoreth and Nomergil come forward, “It is good to see you.”

“In one piece?” Virién bite back the rest of his sarcastic remark when he saw the twins paled. “Come now, you do not expect me to be put down by a little fall, surely?”

The elf and the Dunedain exchanged an unreadable glance and shrugged, “It was a very deep ravine.” Nomergil offered.

“And even Elven eyes could not see the bottom of it.” Halgoreth added. “I find it miraculous that we find you in such good condition.”

Virién shrugged, using Isciath to stand up. “Well, I am in one piece. Does that put your mind at ease?”

“Do not tell me that you escape that fall with no injury at all.” Elladan broke in. “You are limping.”

The chestnut-haired half-elf paused, “There was a stream at the bottom of the ravine, not completely frozen yet, and it help broke my fall. I broke my left leg-“

“Then what are you doing standing up?”

“-But it was a clean break, and I have reset the bones with no trouble at all. It is therefore unnecessary to alter any of our previous planning.” Virién finished, ignoring Elrohir’s shout. “Come, how is that wounded elf doing, Halgoreth? Tell me what you have discovered.”

“But your leg! We must return to Imladris immediately!”

The half-elf glared at the twins, “Of course not. It is on its way to recovery, and I can life on horseback till then.” He paused, “Barring the privy, excuse me, but I can manage.” He limped toward the fire, “Is there anything to eat? I am ravenous! I vow, all that riding about taxes much of my energy.” He chattered on, trying to divert the twin sons of Elrond from any thought of his injury.

The younger rangers scrambled to produce some food, while Halgoreth shook his head in amusement.

Too alike, the Lady and this strange elf. Much too alike.

Above them, a sweet-eyed eagle watched.

The last twist of the knife

Estel hurried up to his room from the garden where a certain jade-eyed eagle had swooped down to, the cover of dawn hiding it from elven view. Glorfindel was curled up on his bed, still in his clothes from yesterday. The boy quickly shook the golden-haired elf awake.

“Wha?” Glorfindel looked around blearily, “Are we under attack?”

Estel bopped him on the head. “Of course not, you silly elf. Wake up, I have news of Virgil.”

That did the trick; Glorfindel was suddenly sitting up straight and alert.

“It seems that he fell into a deep ravine while preventing Elladan and Elrohir from plummeting down into it. He appears to be fine, other than limping around. They’d be back as planned.”

“Not earlier? What does Elladan and Elrohir says?”

Estel shook his head. “The twins want to get Virién back to Imladris right away, but Virgil would have none of it.”

“And where does everyone else incline to put their trust on?” Glorfindel asked curiously.

“Apparently Virgil managed to convince them that his injury is of no consequence.” Estel paused, “Or he probably did not give them time to even argue, I think I shouldn’t have taught him that trick.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “No, I’m glad you did.”

“You are?”

The golden-haired elf nodded, “Yeah. You are right when you said that it is time for me to let go. I should have done so a long time ago. But memory of Erise and the promise that she is still alive is all I have left if not for him. It is hard.”

Estel was silent.

“He will follow you now.” Glorfindel saw Estel’s surprise, but continued on. “When the time comes to choose, I have no doubt where he will go. It will not be to me.” He smiled, “I have tried to delude myself that this is not the case. But it is.”

Estel’s voice was almost saddened. “And you will not contest this?”

“Virgil is an adult.” Glorfindel stated firmly. “He understood what he is doing, and he understood the consequence. He has made his choice as an adult, and he will live with it.” He fixed his eyes to Estel’s, flinty determination glinting in that cornflower sky. “I will respect his decision.”

“And what about your feeling?”

“What I am feeling about it does not matter, Katharina. But if it matters to you, I do not think that he made a bad decision to serve you.”

Estel shook his head, “I do not guarantee his safety.”

Glorfindel looked startled. “Of course not! If at all, he should be risking his to guarantee yours!”

“And you are alright with this?”

“Are you trying to make me repeat myself? Of course I’m alright with this! In fact, I think he could barely do any better.”

Estel was truly puzzled now.

“Let me make this clear.” Glorfindel was trying not to laugh at the bewildered look on Estel’s face. “I detest change, Katharina; they always make me doubt myself. But the world, as you often say, is changing as often every new dawn. I think, in this kind of world, a person like me needs something that they know and can understand, something that is solid and something they can believe in.

“If nothing else, Katharina, I believe that you are someone who deserves everything the world could offer them and more, and I know this from my own experience. In this changing world, that knowledge is something that I can always hold on to. If Virgil could serve you well, then by all means, keep him! It may mean his death, but I as a father would always be comforted by the knowledge that he had believed, as I do, in you, and in doing so he had lived. Had truly lived instead of merely existing, like what he’d done until he met you.” There was no hesitation, only pure conviction and sad resignation.

Estel stared at him mutely. Glorfindel had offered a trembling smile until Estel could do nothing else but wordlessly sat beside the elf and embraced the golden-haired warrior until he breaks apart and slumped into the embrace, clinging into all the comfort that Estel’s caged heart could offer.

Change, so final… And now it changes again! Estel thought sadly. It would never be the same. I could never give your son back after today, and you realized that, Glorfindel. I will see you and my sister restored to each other, my dear, if that is the last thing I do. You have shown me all the mercy I could possibly ask for and you deserve any happiness that you could possibly get.

It was a vow to his own conscience, and Estel knew that it would not let him rest until it is fulfilled; one way or another.

The sun was high now, and the world resting on his mind spiralled, backward, into once upon a time and so far away.

Once, once upon a time

When everything was alright

The world was young and

God was in Heaven

And everything was alright

With the world

Dreaming of roses

Laughter in the air

Once, once upon a time

When everything was alright

With the world

Virién sneezed.

Halgoreth looked at him, “I thought elves don’t get sick.”

“Of course they don’t.” Virién scowled at the Dunedain, he was getting more than slightly cranky. “Neither do I.”

The Dunedain thought that it might be something to do with the strange elf’s lineage, but decided against saying anything about it. The Lady had been very specific.

And Virién was far from stupid, if Halgoreth had given voice to any of his thought, the elf would have immediately looked right through him.

The Valar help him if Virién ever do. If that elf is as alike as the Lady as Halgoreth suspected, he would sink his claws in before Halgoreth realized and the Dunedain would start telling him everything he wants to know.

And then the Lady would be most displeased at him. That thought was enough to make him hard pressed not to cringe.

Virién, meanwhile, had his own reason to be cranky. Reason that now reared its ugly head in shape of twin sons of Elrond.

As he had expected, the two had felt so guilty about causing his fall that they were constantly around, trying to look after him.

And that was without them knowing the condition of his sword arm, Virién dreaded to even think about what they would be like if they ever found out.

“Are you feeling fine?”

“Yes.”

“Not feeling faint or anything?”

“Yes.”

“Is your leg painful?”

Virién’s eyebrow twitched, “It is holding out reasonably well.”

Both twins gave him a hurt look. “We’re just worried.”

It was almost enough to make Virién feel bad. Almost being the key word.

“It was our fault too.”

Virién blinked, “It occurred to me that the two of you feel guilty of any injury people around you suffer.”

Elladan shrugged, “We could have prevented it from happening.” Elrohir nodded. Those words have not been spoken lightly, and Virién could see the conviction behind me.

With a responsible but highly misguided belief such as that, of course the twin would feel be so burdened.

Something must be done.

“Do not tell me that you feel you can prevent every single injury to people in your vicinity.” Virién had sped up his stallion, forcing the twins to follow him so that they were out of earshot.

“Well-“

“Are the two of you truly that arrogant?” Virién snapped, startling them both. “What in the world do you think are? You are only elves, for Elbereth’s sake! Do not make it sound as if you have control over every single rain and drain, every brook and every stone, because you don’t!”

Elladan and Elrohir looked at him with wide shocked eyes. “But-“

“No but!” Virién snarled at them both. “Even the Valar had no such control over the world. It was not them who sank Numenor, it was Iluvatar himself. Are you putting yourself on his rank? Don’t make me laugh, you two arrogant elflings, you are not gods.”

There was an appalled silence between them. And they ride, Elladan and Elrohir in subdued silence, and Virién was willing enough to let the two of them think it through. Eventually, Elladan spoke up. “You are right, maybe we are too arrogant.”

“Too arrogant to admit that accident happens.” Elrohir agreed.

“That you fell off to that ravine is no accident, though.”

Virién blinked, and almost laughed. “Come now, you have no cause to believe that the bridge would fall to pieces like that.”

“Did you?”

“It was a possibility that I suspected might happen.” Virién allowed.

“Which it did.” Elladan agreed sourly. “We didn’t think of it at all.”

Virién shrugged, “Ah, but I think no one else did either. I think they fear that the bridge is too thin to get a footing on rather than anything else. And I’ve seen that episode with rope so I’m not so worried on that front.” He tapped Hyperion’s neck lightly and the horse sped up to leave the almost startled twins behind. “Do not wear yourselves out worrying over it. No one’s perfect, you know, even squirrel falls.”

The twins could only stare bewilderedly at Virién’s back. What does that last sentence supposed to mean? Then they looked at each other and grinned, maybe they could beg Virién to come with them next time. That would means that they have to be prepared to get themselves pushed around and they might be loosing any respect the Rangers and any of their people might have for them. But they don’t think they’d mind.

His presence was a refreshing change.

Beyond that, maybe it was simply the reassurance. Virién might only be a few hundred years older than them, but having him around was almost like having Glorfindel with them.

Still, what does he meant by ‘even squirrel falls’?

At Imladris, the conference of Galadriel and Elrond was drawing to an end. The two had finally come to an agreement that while the elves had been long going about for changes, they have yet to actually do anything meaningful. Even that agreement had come about with much drama and teeth-pulling, as Estel and Glorfindel termed it, and still nothing gets done.

It was quite maddening for Elrond when he realized it.

“You might as well give it up, Elrond.” Glorfindel said aloud to the pacing Half-Elven Lord of Imladris. “She is an elf, and elves, whichever branch they may choose to call themselves, detest changes.”

Elrond rounded on him, “Are you calling admitting our own flaw a change?”

“Of course it is!” Glorfindel waved an elegant hand carelessly, “We are, after all, openly acknowledging it for a change!”

That gave Elrond a pause. “I suppose you are right, my friend.” He said mournfully. “We acknowledge it for a change. Which means we did not acknowledge it so before.” He walked to his chair and sank down heavily onto it.

Glorfindel chuckled slightly, “Do not sound so mournful, Elrond. No one likes to acknowledge their own weakness, no matter what their race. If you can openly acknowledges your mistakes and laughs at it…” He grinned ruefully, “Why, then my lord, I would not hesitate to call you one of the bravest creature I had known.” His mirth was abruptly leeched away. “After all, it takes more courage to reveal shameful things about oneself than to go chasing after dragons, or Balrogs, for that matter.

“But what I am really trying to say, Elrond my friend, is that changes are liked far less than often. Changes brought about new things, about your surrounding and also yourself. We do not always like what we then discover, I can safely tell you that. Changes make us question ourselves, and it destroyed this nice little world we live in before the change occurs. It upsets our security and who likes to feel insecure, Elrond? Give me even one name, I dare you.”

Elrond glared at him, “Have you been talking to Estel?”

Glorfindel feigned a gasp, “Do you meant to say that I could not have come up with what I said without anyone else practically putting the words in my mouth? I am insulted, my lord.” He pouted.

“Enough!” Elrond laughed at the almost childish picture his seneschal presented. He was tempted to throw something at the golden-haired warrior, but that would be just as childish. Before he could decide, someone knocked on the door, and he called out for the knocker to enter.

It was Cirdan. The ancient shipbuilder smiled and closed the door behind him. “I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

“Nothing except my indignation.” Glorfindel assured him. The two of them had a long-standing friendship, which had evolved from the exasperated companionship they shared about each other. When they met, Glorfindel was a pompous elfling and Cirdan was a new, raw Elven-Lord of Falathrim, and both had managed to get on each others’ nerves.

“Then I suppose I interrupt nothing meaningful. And how does this ‘arrogance of the elves’ topic comes to your notice, Elrond?”

The Half-Elven Lord of Imladris inclined his head slightly. “I was talking with Virién –he is Glorfindel’s relative, by the way- about the possibility of him joining the patrol my sons is going with when he mentioned that he had last gone out of Imladris ten years ago, and that it is about time he go out again. I commented that ten years is not that long.” He sighed. “Then he pointed to me that it may not be long to an elf, but it is enough time for a world that moves with the pace of human to change over and over again.”

“And you were struck with the truth of that, I suppose, and concluded that the elves were arrogant?” Cirdan questioned.

“Of course not.” Elrond would have snorted, “It has to go through the stage of that elves had lost touch with the world, and that it had come about because they had felt so above it to concern themselves with it.”

“After which you concluded that it has been arrogance that made them feel so above the world.” Glorfindel finished.

Cirdan seemed to think this over, and it was a while before he spoke again. “Well, I can see what you are arguing about, Elrond, and if Glorfindel told you I am not open to reason, he is lying to you-“

“How kind of you.” Said golden-haired elf muttered sarcastically.

“And I agree with your argument, Elrond.”

Elrond practically jumped out of his seat. “You what? You agree with me?”

Cirdan was patient, “I told you I agree, Elrond. Elves are arrogant, and they are arrogant enough not to want to admit that they are arrogant, even to themselves. I, too, am not immune to that failing, I am afraid. It took both Glorfindel and me a certain twin sisters who are members of the military order of Numenor to realize it. By the bye, how is that son of yours, Glorfindel? His name is Virién is it not? Does he actually go on that patrol with Elladan and Elrohir?”

Elrond glared at his seneschal, who was gaping in a much undignified manner at Cirdan.

“I am not going to tell this to anyone else, of course. And if it would ease your mind, I very much doubt that even Galadriel –for her mirror and her heart-seeing- realized that you have a son at all.” Cirdan assured the gaping elf.

Glorfindel finally closed his jaw. “How did you find out?”

Cirdan’s eyes were laughing with mirth. “Come now, Glorfindel, surely you realized by now that I am the only elf beside you who is acquainted with that fine lady of a general more than as a one-battle comrade. I only need to see you and your son together once to realize the truth.”

Glorfindel could only offer a shaky smile, “I suppose I should have. Another notch for change and arrogance.”

It took Elrond and Cirdan a few moments to understand Glorfindel’s last sentence, but when they did, they could not help but burst into laughter.

One day, a stone was thrown

Into a pool so still

It was a mirror

Of solidity                        

                                       A mirror

                  Of the world

Look, look the pond rippled

The water is disturbed

What shall it bring?

What shall it change?

Only uncertainties

But the stone that

Made the ripple is now

A part of that pond

Author Note:

No, I do not know enough about LotR languages to come up with meaningful names, and so I just came up with something off the top of my head. Nor am I familiar with Silmarilion or any other Tolkien’s LotR related texts, so… forgive the discrepanciesSorry for the un-beta-ed state (again). If we can remedy this by getting that person who offers to beta my stories sending me the offers to either blackcentury_.au or icosahedron_ since I can’t seem to get through their e-mail address….I don’t like how this turn out, really… And I think it’s worth little more than dust on the bookshelves. But alas, it refused to turn out any other way for me.Review, please? Maybe I should put a limit, “less than five new review in a month and bugger update” and simply keep the finished chapters in my hard drives? I don’t know, not that I think many people read this.