Title:
The Flow of Silver Water
Author: Tuxedo Elf
Pairing: Glorfindel/Ecthelion
Beta: Eni
Rating: R
Summary: Returned to life without warning or
reason, Ecthelion seeks to make the most of life while awaiting
his destiny.
Chapter
1
Ecthelion quickly discovered that he had not
been sent back particularly close to his destination. He estimated
it had been near noon when he arrived and now the sun was setting,
with no sign of his destination. He hoped that simply walking
would be enough and that he would indeed be led to the place
Námo had called Imladris.
The area was totally unfamiliar to him and
that was unsettling – he had known the world reasonably
well before he had committed his life to Gondolin. Ecthelion
had no way of knowing that in the years since his death the
entire shape of the world had changed and all that he had once
known was now no more than a memory.
As he walked he tried to memorise his route,
in case he had need to come this way again. Yet many of the
rocky paths and sparse forests seemed to look alike, to the
point where he began to wonder if he was somehow going in circles.
Only the occasional appearance of something new convinced him
that he was not. Along the way he came across several apple
trees and picked a few of the ripe fruits, having nothing else
to eat and no bow or spear with which to hunt.
At last night fell and there was no sign of
either his destination or anyone to show him to it. Though he
did not know the state of the world in this new age, instinct
told him that to travel alone at night was still folly. He walked
until he came to the next patch of trees and then, finding a
tall one with wide branches, climbed up into it.
Settling himself against the trunk, he pulled
an apple from his pocket and stared up at the sky through the
leaves. It was dark now and the stars shone brightly in the
sky. Ecthelion found his gaze drawn to one in particular, that
seemed to shine brighter than all the others. He could not say
why, but it seemed strangely familiar. As he gazed at it, he
let his thoughts wander, taking him back to all he had left
behind in Gondolin.
A long sigh left his lips as his situation
finally sank in, now that he had time to absorb it. He had often
dreamed of being re-embodied, as most in the halls did; however,
returning to Arda was not something he had ever considered.
He had never doubted that he would be sent to the Blessed Realm
and be reunited with his friends, his family – and his
lover.
“Glorfindel,” he whispered, saying
the name of his lost lover aloud for the first time in this
new life. He knew little of his lover’s fate. After his
death in Gondolin and his removal to the Halls of Mandos, he
had been only distantly aware of events. He knew that Glorfindel
had also died, for their paths had crossed sometimes while in
the halls, due to their closeness in life. However, he had not
seen or sensed Glorfindel’s spirit in centuries and could
only assume that his lover had been reborn. In that moment his
heart felt heavy, and he wondered why they had once again been
kept apart. Now he was once again in the Hither Lands, all his
dreams seemed like they had been thrown into chaos. There was
no way of knowing when he would get his chance to see Valinor
again now.
Still, there was little point in dwelling on
it. It was far better to be alive than dead and he had to believe
that Námo had spoken truthfully and that there was a
reason behind his unusual return. The best thing to do was to
make the most of what he had been given, no matter that it was
unexpected.
Finally, he pushed all the confusing thoughts
away and tried to rest. Unfortunately, it was not so easy –
the tree was not particularly comfortable and Ecthelion did
not wish to forget where he was sleeping – the results
could be undignified, not to mention painful. As a result, he
dozed fitfully, leaving the tree as soon as dawn broke, feeling
no more refreshed than he had the night before.
For several more hours he walked, until his
path finally brought him to a rushing river. Here he paused,
drinking some of the cool water and washing his face and hands.
Once clean, he found he felt far more ready to face whatever
lay before him.
Finding a shallow point in the river, he removed
his boots and waded across, knowing somehow that his path was
on the other side. Shortly after, he found himself walking deeper
into the woods and a sense of peace settled over him.
There was strange power at work here, he realised.
Did it mean he was approaching his destination? He hoped so,
for it was disconcerting, not knowing where he was headed. Even
the name of the place, though Elven, seemed strange and he was
beginning to suspect that little of the world he left behind
now remained. It was a thought that brought sorrow for all that
could not be regained and joy, for a new start. Holding the
latter thought close to his heart, he pressed on.
*********************
The sound of their horses’ hooves mingled
with the rustling of the leaves and the sound of the birds as
they rode through the forest. The day had been so bright and
cheerful that their father had managed to convince them to take
a day off from their endless hunt for Orcs and to rest for a
while.
With that in mind they had packed up a lunch
and ridden into the forest surrounding their home, not far enough
away to find trouble or risk being attacked, but enough so that
they could spend some time alone, away from the other Elves
of Imladris and their father’s well-intentioned nagging.
“This is nice,” Elrohir said, smiling
at his brother. “I forget, sometimes, how peaceful life
can be.”
Turning to face his twin, Elladan nodded. “Mother
did love it here – it feels good to remember happier times.
Father was right to insist we take today for ourselves.”
Elrohir chuckled. “Aye, he has learned
much from Grandmother, I think! I am quite sure he is reading
our minds sometimes!”
“Now that does fill me with fear!”
Elladan laughed and relaxed in the saddle. Though he did not
say it, it had been far too long since they had enjoyed life
and it was good to do so again. It likely would not last –
but for now at least, they were content.
Unbeknownst to the twins, however, their progress
through the wood had not gone unnoticed. Horses were noisy,
unlike Elves, and Ecthelion heard them long before he saw them.
Slipping behind a tree, he watched as they
got closer. Námo had said he would find ‘one’
to lead him to Imladris but twins were often thought of as one
soul, so this could indeed be who he sought nonetheless. If
nothing else, they did not seem as though they were a danger.
It was good enough. As they rode past him, he stepped out, revealing
himself.
“Are you from Imladris?”
Not expecting to find any others on the road,
the twins whirled their mounts round swiftly. Ecthelion stepped
back, in case hooves decided to fly at him.
Elladan took in the sight of the Elf before
them. He was tall and well built – a warrior, that much
was obvious, despite his unbraided hair. He stood proudly before
them and seemed taller than he; despite the extra height afford
him by his horse.
“We are,” he said, seeing no reason
to lie, though he remained cautious – evil came in many
forms these days. “Why do you wish to know?” Beside
him, Elrohir nodded in agreement.
“I am newly returned from Mandos’
Halls and I have been instructed to seek out the hidden vale,”
he replied, hoping they would believe him. He knew his situation
was unusual.
Dismounting from his horse, Elrohir approached
him. “I see,” he said, “yet you have been
sent to Arda instead of the Blessed Realm?” He knew he
should introduce himself, but before he did so he wished to
ensure that this newcomer was not a threat.
“Aye, though I do not know the reason…
only that there is one. Lord Námo was… somewhat
cryptic.” Ecthelion admitted.
A smile graced Elrohir’s face then –
that was not the first time he had heard the lord of the dead
described so. Glancing at Elladan, he exchanged a look with
his brother, who then also dismounted.
“I greet you then,” he said. “I
am Elladan. My brother is Elrohir and our father, Elrond is
Lord of Imladris.”
“Then I have indeed found the ones I
was told of,” Ecthelion replied. “I am Ecthelion,
formerly of Gondolin.”
Stunned silence greeted this announcement;
that lasted long enough for Ecthelion to wonder if had made
a terrible mistake. The twins’ faces seemed suddenly pale
and he felt concerned. Fortunately, Elrohir recovered himself
before he could enquire as to the problem.
“The Lord of the Fountain?” he
asked, unable to quite keep the awe from his voice.
Ecthelion nodded, though he was unsure of why
his identity should be so shocking. He did not know that his
battle with Gothmog was a part of history and that his name
was legend amongst the Eldar – and that one Elf in particular
had told the twins many tales.
“It is an honour to meet you.”
Elrohir said, smiling warmly. “I know you will be welcomed
in Imladris.”
“Indeed you will,” Elladan agreed.
“Please, allow us to take you there.” His mind was
spinning – he knew, as they all did, that Glorfindel had
long missed Ecthelion. Yet he said nothing, for the true nature
of the relationship between them was something Glorfindel had
always kept to himself and while most suspected they had been
lovers, they had respected Glorfindel’s wishes when he
declined to talk about his loss.
“Thank you, that would be much appreciated,
though I am to spoil your day,” Ecthelion said regretfully,
for it was easy to tell that duty had not been on their mind
that day.
However, Elrohir was quick to reassure him.
“Think nothing of it; it is not every day Mandos returns
one to us.” Calling his mount forward, he offered the
animal to Ecthelion. “Please, use my horse. I can ride
with my brother and we will be home sooner than if we walk.”
Home. It sounded strange to Ecthelion’s
ears, a home that was not Gondolin, but he knew it was likely
that Imladris was just that or, at least, it soon would be.
“Thank you,” he said, mounting
up easily. It seemed he still had the skills with which he had
departed the world. “Lead on.”
Elladan and Elrohir mounted the remaining horse
and started back towards Imladris, leading the new arrival towards
what would be the beginning of many things.
***********************
By early evening, Ecthelion felt like no more
than a bundle of nerves. Lord Elrond had greeted him with the
same shocked warmth as his sons had and, though he had been
made to feel very welcome, there seemed to be something they
were keeping from him. Everywhere he turned there were hushed
whispers and secretive glances. Even the servant who had showed
him to his room had kept giving him the strangest looks.
Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he took
his flute and went to explore the gardens he had seen on his
arrival. As he had hoped, they were peaceful and he wandered
deep into them, until he found the centre, graced by a carved
fountain. He smiled, if a little sadly – a fountain had
been both his life and his death – to see one again was
as unnerving as it was reassuring.
Carefully, he perched on the edge, though instinct
and fear not yet conquered caused him to check the depth, though
it was far smaller than the one in which he had met his doom.
Satisfied that it would be near impossible to drown in it, he
took out his flute. Putting it to his lips he began to play,
a gentle, soothing melody that eased some of the confusion he
still felt. As he played his closed his eyes, letting the world
around him fall away.
*************************
The patrol had been long and Glorfindel did
not feel inclined to make his report just yet. He preferred
to wait until he was refreshed and Elrond did tend to want them
immediately. The only way around it was to avoid him for a time.
He went straight from the stables to the gardens, completely
unaware that his Lord had far more than a patrol report on his
mind.
He breathed deeply as he walked, enjoying the
peace that the gardens brought. It was quite usual for them
to be deserted at this time of day and he enjoyed the solitude
after a day surrounded by the warriors under his command.
However, when the first notes of the flute
reached his ears, a chill went down his spine. For a moment
he was frozen to the spot, unable to believe what he was hearing.
He had not heard that tune since before he had died and had
never expected to hear it again. Shaking himself out of his
shock, he headed towards the source of the sound, needing to
know who was playing the music.
Before long, he arrived at the garden’s
centre and the source of the music. What he saw there made the
blood drain from his face and his hand flew to his mouth in
shock. He wondered if he was dreaming, for such a scene had
long been his deepest desire. Needing to know, though fearing
the truth, he ran his tongue over suddenly dry lips and forced
out a single word.
“Ecthelion?”
END CHAPTER ONE
