The final post to Footsteps. Thank you very much for your welcomed comments, you've all have given me the will to write one final piece to Glorfindel's travels, and I really thank you for being very kind with your words. :) Expect the sequel, Welcome Home, to be up within a day or so! :)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The boat rocks beneath us in a soothing motion as we drift on, at the mercy of the Valar, and the weather. Maglor sits quietly at the front, his long body curled loosely as he watches for the far shore, while I sit here at the back, concentrating on keeping my heart beating, to keep breathing.
A few days ago, when we had set out, I had thought I had finally found peace within myself, only to find that it was not so. Despair set upon me the second day we were out, and the third day sent me seeking solace within myself. Only the thought of returning home to my family has kept me clinging to my life, to try to forget my dark dreams.
"We are coming upon it," Maglor mutters quietly, as if to himself.
This separation from the land we had strived to go to is working against him as well. He rarely sings now, and has seemed to withdraw within. Only reaching the far shore will save us now, for we will surely die if we try to return to Arda, or if we are left upon the waves much longer.
Turning, Maglor looks upon me, as if for the first time in days. His eyes are weary, as if he has not rested in days, while all I have done is rest, for there is little else. I know it is dangerous for one such as I to do so, when as weak as I am. Yet, sleep beckons often, and I have little will to resist it.
Crawling to my side, he sits beside me, curling against me in an act of old trust, left over from the days when he was a child, and I had seen to him when his family could not. It is a comfort to have such trust still, and grounds me further to staying alive.
A soft melody whispers past the second son of Feanor's lips, echoing a song of homecoming, yet it is married by sorrow, yet it is beautiful. Reaching out, I gently brush a hair tenderly from his face, in a responding act of trust, and friendship as we once shared. My mind wonders at what had brought us apart, what had sundered his family from mine, and I am glad that there can be some small amends. Yet how would the others look upon him, the last of his line?
My mind turns from that ill thought, and I resolve to protect him, for among all of Feanor's sons, he was the most reluctant to take up the sword, and tried to heal where he destroyed in his father's name. He was the one to care for Elrond and Elros is their youth, and had been one of Ecthelion's greatest younger friends. I cannot turn my back on him, for that would be saying that if he does not deserve to be forgiven, and if that is so then neither should I, for I had a hand in some of his crimes.
Time passes as we lay here, unable to do more then wait. One cannot paddle to Valinor, no, one must let the Valar give one entrance, and guide them there. Unfortunately, if the Valar do not decide soon whether we are worthy or not, we are going to die, for neither of us will eat, and barely drink the scarce water we brought with us, for we have not the will in the midst of our judgment.
Maglor's song dies off, though the echoes of it roll upon the waves, and he lays his head down upon my shoulder.
"We shall die, won't we?" he mummers, his eyes shimmering with tears.
I know not how to truly answer him, yet somehow I must give him hope, even false hope.
"Perhaps not, for did Ulmo himself not send us upon this quest for the other land?" I ask, resting my head on top of his.
"So he did, and so we must have hope," he says softly, his voice fading in his weariness.
"Rest, Maglor," I whisper, closing my own eyes as again sleep descends upon me.
I feel him shift slightly, and then his breathing becomes quiet in rest. Smiling at how quickly he has gone, I follow him into dreams, the last thought of if we will awake again whispering in my mind before I go.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Half awareness floods me as I feel hands flitter over my weary form, gently lifting me from the boat, which I can briefly feel has stopped moving.
Moaning in protest, I half-heartedly reach out to Maglor, reluctant to leave him to whoever it is that has come upon us, but my hand is caught, and a soft murmuring comes to my ear, but I cannot make out what the being says. Hands brush my temple, and the being almost seems alarmed, ordering sharply in a language I understand as Quenya. Trying to force my eyes open, I can do little more then squint as moon light floods them, and a blurred look at dark hair. Moaning again, I shut them, and blindly reach up weakly, only to have my hand caught again, and someone whispering strange words in my ear, though the words are soothing, that is the only thing I can make out.
Forcing my lips to move, I try to voice my concerns for my companion, but only hear a dry rustle from my throat. Hands steal over my face, gentle and soothing, and then water is brought to my painfully dry, cracked lips.
Another set of sharp orders, and suddenly I am set in someone's arms. A concerned mummer in my ear, in a voice that should be familiar to me, though I cannot place it in the fog of my mind, yet I am comforted and relax in this strange being's arms. My delirious mind conjures that it must be an Elf, for the voice is too musical to be mortal, yet my heart whispers no to the thought, for we could not have reached the Blessed Realm, our kin have all gone, and Maglor is far too weak to lift me. So, it must be some mortals, who have found our ship. Too bad their efforts will be in vain, for even now my body grows cold, and death is upon me.
Just before I slip not into sleep, but oblivion, for no sleep could feel so final, a strong hand grips my chin, and another forces one of my eyes open. Light, not of the moon but of soul fire, streams into my eye, burning it, but the agony I should feel is faint, for I am almost beyond such feelings.
A sharp, harsh, commanding tone comes to my ears, and a hand is placed on where my struggling heart is starting to cease its life radiating rhythm. I ignore the tone, the voice, the world that struggles to hold onto my fleeing soul, yet even now it slips away, and I can feel Mandos's gates open to receive me. Only a bit more, and nothing will hold me back...
A sharp jab of healing power floods me, tingling through my nerves like a current of living energy, and just for a brief moment, I consider forcing myself to breath again, but death looms too near, and I am denied the strength to do it. But the one sending me such power does not give up, and another bolt runs raging through me, sparking my heart to beat just a little longer, but what is a body without a soul?
It slowly comes to me that I cannot be within the lands of my birth, for that energy comes not from any mortal, but an Elven soul, tainted the slightest bit with mortal feel. I know that soul, better then I know my own, yet I cannot respond to his summons, though my heart cries out against my body's collapse.
His voice sounds again in my ear, sharp, crystal clear. I know he is calling my name, and my heart fervently wishes to respond, but darkness closes rapidly over me, and I cannot fight any longer. Forgive me, mellon nin.
Suddenly his touch, his energy, his soul, is gone, and I wonder if I am dead and even Mandos has rejected me when a brilliant flash echoes through me, the shock wave of it forcing me to breath. I can feel myself gasp, my body struggle faintly, then another flash, stronger, more powerful then before. This is no healers' energy; this is pure soul fire being transferred to me, forcing me to live. My struggling heart picks up this natural rhythm as my lungs finally ender breath. Life courses through me, and I suddenly have the strength to fight death, to open my eyes to the land of my heart. I do so, to behold smoldering gray eyes tinged slightly green; yet seem to burn from fire. I know those eyes, and I am surprised, I did not think he would return from Mandos.
The face above me smiles, and I briefly notice that where I had thought him solid is but the shadow of another shining through him. So Feanor has truly not returned, only come to prevent another from entering into the Halls. I know not whether to be grateful or to cry in despair. My mind swiftly turns from that thought, to my companion, only to have even that shattered within me as a second figure joins the side of Feanor. Maglor... My heart weeps for the loss of my friend, but he only smiles slightly, seemingly hail and whole for the first time in Ages.
/It is all right, Glorfindel. My father wishes me home, to be united with my brothers, with my family. Your place is not among the dead, for your family is among the living. Do not let your crimes plague you any longer, for all has been forgiven by Eru and the Valar,/ Maglor's voice rings in my mind, and my soul lightens at his words.
Then Feanor stands, and with one departing smile, walks away, vanishing quickly in a brief spurt of flame, Maglor at his heels. Just as Maglor starts to fade, he turns back, and gives me one last smile.
/Take care of them, Glorfindel, and yourself. Until we meet again,/ he nodded in farewell, and then his soul faded away with the winds.
Sighing, I close my eyes, weariness still pulling at my every nerve and muscle, my mind slowing as sleep closes in. But I cannot let myself go yet, I must do one last thing before I can rest the normal sleep of the weary instead of the dead. Forcing my eyes open, I blindly grasp for the one I seek, my eyesight dim with the shadows of my weariness.
A hand grasps mine, and I smile as my eyes close again, for none can have such a hand that is rough from wielding a sword, yet gentle with a healer's strength.
"Mellon nin?" he calls softly, and I would grin had I the strength.
"Yes, Elrond, I've come home," I whisper, then tighten my hand briefly over his, before letting myself fall into the waiting arms of sleep and Elvish dreams.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The warmth of a body near mine, the smell of elanors, the slight tickling of hair against my chest welcomes me as I awaken. I snuggle closer, wrapping an arm around an all too familiar form, and smile, burying my face in her hair, not daring to open my eyes if this is a dream. She shifts, turning to face me, and gently kisses my lips, before wrapping her own arm around me, pressing herself against me as she leans her forehead against mine.
"Open your eyes, beloved," she whispers, and I do as she bids, praying this isn't another cruel dream.
To find it not a dream, but real, for here my wife lays with me, alive and well within my arms. Drawing a sharp, I reach a trembling hand to her cheek, touching the smooth, gentle flesh, unmarried by the crossing over the cruel Ice, or time, or death. My wife, as I remembered her during the time of the trees, when we only courted. But her clear blue eyes mark the woman that I married in Gondolin, the shadow of a woman that has seen much, and has never let it break her.
"Oh, Encaitarince," I say softly, running my hand from her cheek to her neck, where I can feel the warm pulse of her heart, and my heart resounds with hers in a rhythm that only two lovers can ever achieve.
I have not let myself think of her since my return to Middle Earth, except on the late nights when my dark past came to crush my soul. Her memory had been a candle to me then, though at other times the thought of her hurt too much to bare, and I blocked her out. Now, now I have no need to, thus my love pours from me like a broken dam, and tears pour from my eyes. She only gently kisses them away with her lips, soothing me when the slight rubbing of her hands along my back until no more tears are shed, for tears are not meant for Valinor.
"Welcome home, beloved," she whispers, kissing me once again.
I then hold her close, wondering at how long its been since we've lain here like this, our arms tangled in a lover's embrace, our hearts beating as one, our souls resonating with the love we have sorely missed. Its been far too long, and I hunger only to lay with her, remembering not a thing of the past, and worrying not for the future.
Smiling, she pulls away, but only by a hands breath, her own golden hair glimmering in the sunshine, "I wish we could just stay here. But there are others that wish to welcome you."
I nearly pout, old familiar habits coming at her touch, but not quite, because I know she is right. My family, adopted and blood related, must be waiting for me to awaken, and I know I cannot keep them waiting.
"Come now, we shall enjoy our time once you assure them you are well. You gave us all quite a scare two days ago," she says, her eyes darkening a little.
"Two days?" I ask, though it does not surprise me, for I was indeed weary enough to sleep that long.
"Yes, Elrond and Ecthelion were especially worried. They almost wouldn't let me in until they knew you were well," she says, a twinkle in her eyes.
I laugh, for the first time in a long time, and my heart swells with its sound, "Ai, my beautiful, stubborn wife! I am glad to see you have won," and I kiss her.
She giggles, her voice twinkling as the dark look of worry passes from her eyes, "Ah, Ecthelion could never keep me from you, but Elrond would not have fallen had it not been for Celebrian. She is who you should thank, or else I would not have been here."
"Then I shall thank her, after I thank you," I say, kissing her again, then edging my wondering lips down her jaw line, to her neck and would go further if not for her hand gently forcing me away.
"That shall come later, beloved, for we have much to catch up on," she says, that twinkle again in her eyes, oh how I've missed that, "But first, we must meet those that await you, and assure them of your health. Also, our son wishes to speak with you."
I sigh, nodding, and follow her out of bed, knowing that I am defeated. She hands me a long white robe, and I smile fondly at the old embroidered symbol of my house upon its breast. Slipping on first a pair of black pants, and a gray tunic, I then put on the robe, and lash it into place. I am surprise slightly that my clothes that I left here still remain, but it is a comfort to be within them once more. My wife smiles at me as she dresses as well, then when finished, takes my hand, and leads me to the door.
The hall we walk through reminds me of Rivendell, and for once, the memory is not painful. I know this to be my lord's house, and I am please to know that he has rediscovered his purpose and his life here within the Undying Lands.
Finally we reach a large chamber, and I spot my family and dearest friends waiting for us. Grinning, I hold tight to my wife's hand, feeling that I am now truly home, and the echoes of the footsteps of my past can no longer pain me.
Stepping forward, I release her hand, and bow in a flourish, beginning to feel like myself once more, no longer burdened with all my shadows and pains. It is a good feeling.
"My dearest family, it is good to be home," I say, and I know it is true.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The boat rocks beneath us in a soothing motion as we drift on, at the mercy of the Valar, and the weather. Maglor sits quietly at the front, his long body curled loosely as he watches for the far shore, while I sit here at the back, concentrating on keeping my heart beating, to keep breathing.
A few days ago, when we had set out, I had thought I had finally found peace within myself, only to find that it was not so. Despair set upon me the second day we were out, and the third day sent me seeking solace within myself. Only the thought of returning home to my family has kept me clinging to my life, to try to forget my dark dreams.
"We are coming upon it," Maglor mutters quietly, as if to himself.
This separation from the land we had strived to go to is working against him as well. He rarely sings now, and has seemed to withdraw within. Only reaching the far shore will save us now, for we will surely die if we try to return to Arda, or if we are left upon the waves much longer.
Turning, Maglor looks upon me, as if for the first time in days. His eyes are weary, as if he has not rested in days, while all I have done is rest, for there is little else. I know it is dangerous for one such as I to do so, when as weak as I am. Yet, sleep beckons often, and I have little will to resist it.
Crawling to my side, he sits beside me, curling against me in an act of old trust, left over from the days when he was a child, and I had seen to him when his family could not. It is a comfort to have such trust still, and grounds me further to staying alive.
A soft melody whispers past the second son of Feanor's lips, echoing a song of homecoming, yet it is married by sorrow, yet it is beautiful. Reaching out, I gently brush a hair tenderly from his face, in a responding act of trust, and friendship as we once shared. My mind wonders at what had brought us apart, what had sundered his family from mine, and I am glad that there can be some small amends. Yet how would the others look upon him, the last of his line?
My mind turns from that ill thought, and I resolve to protect him, for among all of Feanor's sons, he was the most reluctant to take up the sword, and tried to heal where he destroyed in his father's name. He was the one to care for Elrond and Elros is their youth, and had been one of Ecthelion's greatest younger friends. I cannot turn my back on him, for that would be saying that if he does not deserve to be forgiven, and if that is so then neither should I, for I had a hand in some of his crimes.
Time passes as we lay here, unable to do more then wait. One cannot paddle to Valinor, no, one must let the Valar give one entrance, and guide them there. Unfortunately, if the Valar do not decide soon whether we are worthy or not, we are going to die, for neither of us will eat, and barely drink the scarce water we brought with us, for we have not the will in the midst of our judgment.
Maglor's song dies off, though the echoes of it roll upon the waves, and he lays his head down upon my shoulder.
"We shall die, won't we?" he mummers, his eyes shimmering with tears.
I know not how to truly answer him, yet somehow I must give him hope, even false hope.
"Perhaps not, for did Ulmo himself not send us upon this quest for the other land?" I ask, resting my head on top of his.
"So he did, and so we must have hope," he says softly, his voice fading in his weariness.
"Rest, Maglor," I whisper, closing my own eyes as again sleep descends upon me.
I feel him shift slightly, and then his breathing becomes quiet in rest. Smiling at how quickly he has gone, I follow him into dreams, the last thought of if we will awake again whispering in my mind before I go.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Half awareness floods me as I feel hands flitter over my weary form, gently lifting me from the boat, which I can briefly feel has stopped moving.
Moaning in protest, I half-heartedly reach out to Maglor, reluctant to leave him to whoever it is that has come upon us, but my hand is caught, and a soft murmuring comes to my ear, but I cannot make out what the being says. Hands brush my temple, and the being almost seems alarmed, ordering sharply in a language I understand as Quenya. Trying to force my eyes open, I can do little more then squint as moon light floods them, and a blurred look at dark hair. Moaning again, I shut them, and blindly reach up weakly, only to have my hand caught again, and someone whispering strange words in my ear, though the words are soothing, that is the only thing I can make out.
Forcing my lips to move, I try to voice my concerns for my companion, but only hear a dry rustle from my throat. Hands steal over my face, gentle and soothing, and then water is brought to my painfully dry, cracked lips.
Another set of sharp orders, and suddenly I am set in someone's arms. A concerned mummer in my ear, in a voice that should be familiar to me, though I cannot place it in the fog of my mind, yet I am comforted and relax in this strange being's arms. My delirious mind conjures that it must be an Elf, for the voice is too musical to be mortal, yet my heart whispers no to the thought, for we could not have reached the Blessed Realm, our kin have all gone, and Maglor is far too weak to lift me. So, it must be some mortals, who have found our ship. Too bad their efforts will be in vain, for even now my body grows cold, and death is upon me.
Just before I slip not into sleep, but oblivion, for no sleep could feel so final, a strong hand grips my chin, and another forces one of my eyes open. Light, not of the moon but of soul fire, streams into my eye, burning it, but the agony I should feel is faint, for I am almost beyond such feelings.
A sharp, harsh, commanding tone comes to my ears, and a hand is placed on where my struggling heart is starting to cease its life radiating rhythm. I ignore the tone, the voice, the world that struggles to hold onto my fleeing soul, yet even now it slips away, and I can feel Mandos's gates open to receive me. Only a bit more, and nothing will hold me back...
A sharp jab of healing power floods me, tingling through my nerves like a current of living energy, and just for a brief moment, I consider forcing myself to breath again, but death looms too near, and I am denied the strength to do it. But the one sending me such power does not give up, and another bolt runs raging through me, sparking my heart to beat just a little longer, but what is a body without a soul?
It slowly comes to me that I cannot be within the lands of my birth, for that energy comes not from any mortal, but an Elven soul, tainted the slightest bit with mortal feel. I know that soul, better then I know my own, yet I cannot respond to his summons, though my heart cries out against my body's collapse.
His voice sounds again in my ear, sharp, crystal clear. I know he is calling my name, and my heart fervently wishes to respond, but darkness closes rapidly over me, and I cannot fight any longer. Forgive me, mellon nin.
Suddenly his touch, his energy, his soul, is gone, and I wonder if I am dead and even Mandos has rejected me when a brilliant flash echoes through me, the shock wave of it forcing me to breath. I can feel myself gasp, my body struggle faintly, then another flash, stronger, more powerful then before. This is no healers' energy; this is pure soul fire being transferred to me, forcing me to live. My struggling heart picks up this natural rhythm as my lungs finally ender breath. Life courses through me, and I suddenly have the strength to fight death, to open my eyes to the land of my heart. I do so, to behold smoldering gray eyes tinged slightly green; yet seem to burn from fire. I know those eyes, and I am surprised, I did not think he would return from Mandos.
The face above me smiles, and I briefly notice that where I had thought him solid is but the shadow of another shining through him. So Feanor has truly not returned, only come to prevent another from entering into the Halls. I know not whether to be grateful or to cry in despair. My mind swiftly turns from that thought, to my companion, only to have even that shattered within me as a second figure joins the side of Feanor. Maglor... My heart weeps for the loss of my friend, but he only smiles slightly, seemingly hail and whole for the first time in Ages.
/It is all right, Glorfindel. My father wishes me home, to be united with my brothers, with my family. Your place is not among the dead, for your family is among the living. Do not let your crimes plague you any longer, for all has been forgiven by Eru and the Valar,/ Maglor's voice rings in my mind, and my soul lightens at his words.
Then Feanor stands, and with one departing smile, walks away, vanishing quickly in a brief spurt of flame, Maglor at his heels. Just as Maglor starts to fade, he turns back, and gives me one last smile.
/Take care of them, Glorfindel, and yourself. Until we meet again,/ he nodded in farewell, and then his soul faded away with the winds.
Sighing, I close my eyes, weariness still pulling at my every nerve and muscle, my mind slowing as sleep closes in. But I cannot let myself go yet, I must do one last thing before I can rest the normal sleep of the weary instead of the dead. Forcing my eyes open, I blindly grasp for the one I seek, my eyesight dim with the shadows of my weariness.
A hand grasps mine, and I smile as my eyes close again, for none can have such a hand that is rough from wielding a sword, yet gentle with a healer's strength.
"Mellon nin?" he calls softly, and I would grin had I the strength.
"Yes, Elrond, I've come home," I whisper, then tighten my hand briefly over his, before letting myself fall into the waiting arms of sleep and Elvish dreams.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The warmth of a body near mine, the smell of elanors, the slight tickling of hair against my chest welcomes me as I awaken. I snuggle closer, wrapping an arm around an all too familiar form, and smile, burying my face in her hair, not daring to open my eyes if this is a dream. She shifts, turning to face me, and gently kisses my lips, before wrapping her own arm around me, pressing herself against me as she leans her forehead against mine.
"Open your eyes, beloved," she whispers, and I do as she bids, praying this isn't another cruel dream.
To find it not a dream, but real, for here my wife lays with me, alive and well within my arms. Drawing a sharp, I reach a trembling hand to her cheek, touching the smooth, gentle flesh, unmarried by the crossing over the cruel Ice, or time, or death. My wife, as I remembered her during the time of the trees, when we only courted. But her clear blue eyes mark the woman that I married in Gondolin, the shadow of a woman that has seen much, and has never let it break her.
"Oh, Encaitarince," I say softly, running my hand from her cheek to her neck, where I can feel the warm pulse of her heart, and my heart resounds with hers in a rhythm that only two lovers can ever achieve.
I have not let myself think of her since my return to Middle Earth, except on the late nights when my dark past came to crush my soul. Her memory had been a candle to me then, though at other times the thought of her hurt too much to bare, and I blocked her out. Now, now I have no need to, thus my love pours from me like a broken dam, and tears pour from my eyes. She only gently kisses them away with her lips, soothing me when the slight rubbing of her hands along my back until no more tears are shed, for tears are not meant for Valinor.
"Welcome home, beloved," she whispers, kissing me once again.
I then hold her close, wondering at how long its been since we've lain here like this, our arms tangled in a lover's embrace, our hearts beating as one, our souls resonating with the love we have sorely missed. Its been far too long, and I hunger only to lay with her, remembering not a thing of the past, and worrying not for the future.
Smiling, she pulls away, but only by a hands breath, her own golden hair glimmering in the sunshine, "I wish we could just stay here. But there are others that wish to welcome you."
I nearly pout, old familiar habits coming at her touch, but not quite, because I know she is right. My family, adopted and blood related, must be waiting for me to awaken, and I know I cannot keep them waiting.
"Come now, we shall enjoy our time once you assure them you are well. You gave us all quite a scare two days ago," she says, her eyes darkening a little.
"Two days?" I ask, though it does not surprise me, for I was indeed weary enough to sleep that long.
"Yes, Elrond and Ecthelion were especially worried. They almost wouldn't let me in until they knew you were well," she says, a twinkle in her eyes.
I laugh, for the first time in a long time, and my heart swells with its sound, "Ai, my beautiful, stubborn wife! I am glad to see you have won," and I kiss her.
She giggles, her voice twinkling as the dark look of worry passes from her eyes, "Ah, Ecthelion could never keep me from you, but Elrond would not have fallen had it not been for Celebrian. She is who you should thank, or else I would not have been here."
"Then I shall thank her, after I thank you," I say, kissing her again, then edging my wondering lips down her jaw line, to her neck and would go further if not for her hand gently forcing me away.
"That shall come later, beloved, for we have much to catch up on," she says, that twinkle again in her eyes, oh how I've missed that, "But first, we must meet those that await you, and assure them of your health. Also, our son wishes to speak with you."
I sigh, nodding, and follow her out of bed, knowing that I am defeated. She hands me a long white robe, and I smile fondly at the old embroidered symbol of my house upon its breast. Slipping on first a pair of black pants, and a gray tunic, I then put on the robe, and lash it into place. I am surprise slightly that my clothes that I left here still remain, but it is a comfort to be within them once more. My wife smiles at me as she dresses as well, then when finished, takes my hand, and leads me to the door.
The hall we walk through reminds me of Rivendell, and for once, the memory is not painful. I know this to be my lord's house, and I am please to know that he has rediscovered his purpose and his life here within the Undying Lands.
Finally we reach a large chamber, and I spot my family and dearest friends waiting for us. Grinning, I hold tight to my wife's hand, feeling that I am now truly home, and the echoes of the footsteps of my past can no longer pain me.
Stepping forward, I release her hand, and bow in a flourish, beginning to feel like myself once more, no longer burdened with all my shadows and pains. It is a good feeling.
"My dearest family, it is good to be home," I say, and I know it is true.