Just as the ancient Eldar lord expected, an expression of shocked ignorance was swiftly painted across the prince's features. "There is much of Gondolin you do not know, you could not know, as the songs one hears of Amon Gwareth in this age speak of little but destruction and pain. Yet there was love and loyalty the likes of which I fear we shall not see again in Middle-earth." The sorrow in his tone was replaced with the lyrical lilt of hope, his eyes steadily surveying the prince's steadfastly focused gaze. "Until you came to Imladris." A smile, strong and bright and filled with the brilliancy of Anar's noontime rays cast aside any thoughts of melancholy from his mind. "Although the Valar have not gifted upon me the skills of prescience, only one with eyes of stone could doubt that the Lady has plans both particular and perilous in mind in exchange for your return to my lord's arms."
"If it is your purpose to set my heart at ease, then you have failed most miserably, my friend," Legolas uneasily retorted.
Peals of clear laughter rang out through the Halls of Healing. "My apologies, fair prince, if my words have brought you disturbance of mind. But we both know the Lady has returned you to these shores for a purpose far loftier than to merely return the light of joy to Lord Elrond's heart. For the Valar's gifts are never given without expectation of a cost to be paid, yet their toll is never heavier than the strength of the bearer to abide, nor without reward in the end, even if it must wait until the end of the world to be realized."
Sensing the other's blossoming sense of dread and doom, Glorfindel reached out a hand and clasped one set of the prince's fingers. "Do not fear that which you cannot foresee. Enjoy the moments of peace you will enjoy here in our halls, and trust in the Lady to watch over you when you need her guidance the most."
"You sound more like Lord Cirdan each time we talk," Legolas warily countered, suspicion and disquiet unmistakable in his voice.
"We both have seen many of our people slaughtered upon the field of battle, yet still place our trust in the Lady who loves us all, and the Lord of the Waters, to whom we both owe debts without measure."
Legolas appeared visibly surprised at the naming of Ulmo in this context. "I have heard that he favors the House of Tuor, and thus Lord Elrond in turn, yet I knew not that he watched over you in like manner."
"Watches over me, indeed, but asks much of me in return. It was by his request that I was released from the Dark Halls of Awaiting, and it is at his request that I continue here in Middle-earth to honor a pledge I swore upon the field of battle -- to honor and serve the House of Huor just as it made sacrifices supreme for the sake of my King and my home."
"You speak of Turgon and Gondolin," Legolas correctly surmised.
Nodding, Glorfindel retracted his hand from the other's grasp. "The beauty of the walled city and its glittering fountains is beyond the gifts of even a tongue as sweet as Ecthelion's to properly paint. Long we lived in peace and security, yet at the bitter price of isolation from our kin and allies. When finally we broke our vow of seclusion and joined our arms to the war against the Dark One it was only to see the High King Fingon fall upon the cursed field of Anfauglith."
Although he had not lived through the tragedy himself, Legolas knew enough of the laments of ages past to recognize the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. "They name it Unnumbered Tears because they say no heart nor tale could contain all its grief."
"Nor could the Sundering Sea itself hope to accommodate all the tears shed in its name. It was there that Ecthelion of the Fountain and I, we blessed as Turgon's chief captains and most loyal of subjects, both found our fates forever intertwined with that of the House of Huor." The solemn shutter of pained memory locked across the ancient lord's gaze, the passage of centuries not dimming the sharpness of blood-burned images in his mind's eye. "The field was lost, the blood of both Eldar and Faithful Man freely intermingling in pools both dark and viscous. Fingon, our High King, brother of Gondolin's lord, lay crushed and battered, slain by the hand of Gothmog, Chief of the Flame Demons, himself. Our resolve did not wane, and we would have fought until none still stood had not saner voices ruled the day. The House of Hador stood firmly with that of Gondolin, even unto the hour of certain defeat. Hurin and Huor bade King Turgon to flee, whilst they gave their own lives and that of their troops to buy our retreat. Turgon at first would not be moved, but Hurin spoke of Gondolin as the last possibility of the Eldar to strike fear into the heart of Morgoth, and Huor beseeched Turgon with a prophecy that from their joined houses would rise a star who would be the hope of both kinds of Iluvatar's children." Glorfindel paused a moment, hoping the prince would understand of whom Huor wisely spoke.
Legolas did not disappoint the elder elf. "Huor begat Tuor, of whom the legends speak, who in turn sired Earendil, the Star of the Dawn and the Dusk." An affection-drenched smile lit his face. "The Lord of Imladris, and of my heart, sprang from that noble line."
"As did the lord of my heart as well," Glorfindel reminded them both, "Although I had no way to know that at the moment the Hadorians traded their lives for ours. How could I believe that I would be so gifted by the Valar as to find the solace of love and the purpose of protection in the combined lines of my King and the best of the Second Born? Yet Ecthelion and I were both rendered speechless by the selflessness of those brave, mortal brothers. The tears were made to wait until we returned to the security of the white walls, yet nothing could stem the flow of our grief as he and I guarded the flanks of Gondolin's retreating host. As we marched, in silence and in sorrow, each of us made in solitary secret the same solemn pledge -- to await the coming of the promised heir of Hador's line, 'tho we knew not how or when such an heir might find his way to our city. It was not until Tuor's arrival at our heavily guarded gates, a generation of men later, that Ecthelion the Fair and I admitted one to the other that we had indeed found peace with the same pledge of service." The golden haired lord became lost for a moment in the swirling sea of densely packed memories, a crinkle of smile teasing upward the corners of his lips.
"One of us was destined to lose his heart, and afterwards his life, while the other had to pass through Mandos' care before finding the reward of passion's domain. The Lord of the Waters indeed grants wonders beyond measure, yet demands much in return. So was the balance of joy and despair borne by Tuor at Lord Ulmo's decree."
"Does he always demand such a weighty price for the bestowment of happiness?" Legolas apprehensively questioned.
"Who is to say the price he asks is weightier than any other?" Glorfindel retorted without hesitation or apology. "No action is without consequence, no consequence without action. None should expect to circumvent that truth -- have you, Fair Prince?"
"Not I, certainly not after the passing of the last few days. But I cannot help to wonder how the Lady and her Court can claim to hold us dearest of all Ea's creatures yet expect of us such strength in the face of adversity?"
A smirked smile of long-acquired experience graced Glorfindel's face. "Does not a father expect the most of his favorite son? Are not the eldest children always burdened with the most expectations? Why should we expect it to be any less of a double-edged birthright which we have been given?"
A slight rosy tinge of embarrassment colored the prince's cheeks, the uneasy guilt of self-realized petulance raising the feeling of frustration at his own behavior. "You must think me the rudest of infants, Glorfindel. I whine at the thought that I might be called upon to serve the Valar in the future when I should celebrate with grateful reverence the very fact that I am here and able to discuss such honored sacrifices with you."
"I did not think you a child when you first asked me that question, after suffering your first, less egregious, orc wound while directly defending your homeland, nor do I expect it shall be the last time you unnecessarily chide yourself so. You must remember that you have spent all but the last years of your few centuries in the forest of your father, and have not been given the opportunity to learn of the wider world and its worries. Just as Turgon tried in vain to keep his home safe from the evils of the wild by the isolation of carefully hewn stone, so, too, has your father failed to learn from the lessons of the First Age. But do not believe those years spent in the solitude of your father's realm to have been wasted. The acuity of your bow arm will serve you well in the years to come, and may prove to be the savior of many before this age is through. The beauty of your face and that of your heart have brought a renewed light to this valley which rivals that of Earendil himself. Not only does Lord Elrond call you his very soul, the Lady Arwen depends upon you as a friend, advisor, and protector in ways her brothers cannot hope to match. I see her relying upon you more often and more deeply in the future of this age."
"'Tis an honor I look forward to fulfilling, whenever and in whatever manner she deems fit," the prince reverently swore.
"And perhaps that alone is the task the Lady has chosen for you in return for your renewed existence in this land," Glorfindel offered in knowing lie. For although he said the words merely to direct the prince's dread-filled thoughts toward a positive end, the ancient elf was himself under no such illusion. Whatever the Lady had deemed for the prince in the coming years of this age, Glorfindel was sure the tasks would test far more than merely his ability to advise and escort the Evenstar. "But we wander from the original conversation, Greenleaf. Have you lost your desire to hear of my old home and the coming of Tuor to our gates?"
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