Chapter Twenty Four

The barracks in Gondolin had been a long red marble hall, columns stretching up to the ceiling that had been painted to mirror the midsummer night sky. In Imladris it was round, curving around the side of the river with delicate arches and alcoves on either side housing bunks or benches. He still could hardly believe it was functional.

It was also full, bursting with every member of the guard and affiliated relations or friends. All standing in near silence, only the faint whispering of curious minds asking opinions. Cûinath stood on the stairs leading up to a balcony where the armoury kept smaller items in storage. Next to her Laiken was fussing with papers. Conspicuous by their absence neither Elrond not Erestor had appeared, Nairn hovering at the back.

It was to her that Glorfindel went first, having left a surly Hesten in bed earlier that afternoon.

"Does Elrond not need to be present to name his new captain?" he asked her.

"The guard retains autonomy. The founding force came partly under Elrond, partly under Lord Celeborn. The Sindar require it is kept separate." She spoke in whispers, so quiet he had trouble hearing over the sound of many others doing the same.

Laiken straightened suddenly as the whispers died down. Glorfindel looked around at his comrades, wondering if they had the good sense not to trust him.

"We have chosen our captain," he said boldly. There was half a second of pause for emphasis. "Isowen." Several heads turned sharply towards Glorfindel, most in shock. Inwardly he let out a breath of relief that he had not been the only one who saw the most obvious answer. Isowen climbed half the steps and turned to her guard.

"Look to the future," she told them. "The past may lie remembered yet do not let is haunt us." Then Cûinath was whispering to her and the conversation in the hall struck up again with a vengeance.

"I must say, I am surprised," Nairn murmured. "You appear, content?"

"Relieved." Laiken approached them, their new captain in tow. Glorfindel gave his sister a bright smile. He did resist the urge to salute her for fear of seeming to mock.

"I suppose you are happy now, you can sit back and watch me make mistakes then be praised when you clear them up." Isowen turned on him with a furious glare. It was not deserved, he felt for he had done little. One vote hardly made the difference when the guard was a reasonable size. "You really have him wrapped around your finger." He was at a loss for why he was the victim of her temper.

"Leave him be," Nairn ordered. Her voice was sharp although it stayed as quiet as ever. "Elrond should be informed."

"Then by all means inform him." Laiken visibly backed away from them, his eye contact pulled Glorfindel away as well. It was Isowen who turned first, somehow ending up with the other two flanking her. The sound of Nairn closing the door signalled the end of all other conversation. The guard stared at them. Turgon's folk had included some Sindar, although they had been few and far between. Now Glorfindel was faced with a room predominantly Sindar who had for some reason elected a Noldo as their Captain. However Isowen had accomplished something he never could: she had been chosen for her skill and her friends' faith in her, not for name or blood. Those things worked against her with many there still unaware of who she was. All they saw was another Noldo.

Glorfindel remembered his promise to tell Hesten and as his sister moved away he followed Nairn's example and slipped out of the barracks to inform others.

He was disappointed to find Hesten asleep, as he was soon informed the pain relief often knocked people unconscious for short periods of time. It was just as well, Glorfindel could see the wounds now that the initial bandages were being removed. It was a wonder that Hesten still had his leg.

Or rather, most of it. There was an unpleasant black and red mass at the bottom of his limb still wrapped securely.

"It will have to be replaced with wood," a soft voice said from the next bed. All Glorfindel could see of the healer was a dark neck and even darker hair in a corkscrew as they leaned over the sheets they were changing. "It is a shame, but many manage." There was something cold about the healers voice, matter of fact and brusque. They collected up the sheets and moved on to the next bed with the efficiency of a tired sword master conserving movement.

No one else came to Hesten's bedside as he sat there for a long while, waiting for his friend to wake up. Glorfindel did wonder but had not asked. Not when he knew nothing of the past the inhabitants of Imladris had gone through.

"I am supposing..." Hesten's sleep filled voice muttered. "That... Since you are not busy..."

"They chose Isowen." Hesten's mouth opened into a neat circle and he stopped trying to rouse himself.

"I had Cûinath pinned as our captain, but then no one likes archers, or spiders." With one brown eye open, his head cocked slightly to the side Hesten watched him for a moment. "Stop fidgeting and say something."

Glorfindel shrugged, making an effort to sit still. There were battles, wars he had never heard of, doubtless Círdan's quick history lesson and a few conversations with Isowen had not filled him in on everything.

"No one came to sit with you," he said at last.

"You did." Hesten gave him a weak grin. "Ah, you have not yet discovered my fatal flaw: I am impossible to like. Now you naturally cannot see this yet, as naive and angelic as you are but once you look beyond your little halo you will see. No one likes me, save perhaps our little spider but that is more in the way you grow to like an old ugly vase you cannot shift." He did not stop to allow Glorfindel to disagree. "Somewhere, there are three generations of my line all living happily in Lindon, placidly serving a king. We survive remarkably well, although I do appear to be missing something now they have stopped drugging me. Not that it matters, I shall fit in with a good portion of the other guards now. I never cared much for my foot to be honest." There was spite and anger in the way his mouth twisted, pain in his voice. Hesten refused to look down at his leg. "You are good, to sit here when you have, certain others who would gladly spend time with you." Then a weak laugh came from him. "And now you will come all the more because you feel sorry for me."

"Not at- well, perhaps." They managed a shared chuckle. "I am not going to let you lie here alone." Hesten's hand slipped out from under the blanket and tapped his fist until it opened.

"Yet you shall leave as soon as I can sit up?"

"Something like that," Glorfindel answered fondly.