DISCLAIMER: Anyone and anything that is familiar belongs to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. I am only borrowing them and will return them more or less intact. The song is "Old and Wise" from the Alan Parsons Project album WORKS, copyright 2002 by Hot Town Music.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Glorfindel prepares to go to the battle history knows as Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears.

Old and Wise by Jessie Syring

As far as my eyes can see,

There are shadows approaching me.

And to those I left behind,

I wanted you to know

You've always shared my deepest thoughts.

You follow where I go.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

Glorfindel stood at the windows of his study and stared at the city beyond. The early morning sunlight that already touched the snow-capped peaks of the Echoriath would soon be turning Gondolin's white towers a rosy pink.

Already the city bustled with activity. Elves were loading horses with packs of supplies and equipment. Other animals were being fitted with saddles and war harnesses. Beneath the banners of the twelve noble houses, soldiers were making last minute preparations and saying their goodbyes to loved ones.

Sighing, the lord of the House of the Golden Flower returned to his oak desk. He sat down and picked up a quill pen before turning his attention to the clean parchment before him. He dipped the quill in a jar of ink and began writing.

If you are reading this, it is because you returned and I did not. We rode together to war, obeying the call of the High King. I do not write this to lament the war. Such is our lot and has been since the Darkening of Valinor. I made this choice and do not regret it.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in," Glorfindel called, carefully blotting a stray drop of ink.

The door opened and a silver-haired Noldo Elf entered. "I thought I would find you here. Have you slept at all?" asked the newcomer.

"I had too much to do. Too many matters to settle." Glorfindel gave a tired smile. "I would not leave that task to you, Temoras."

"That is why I am your seneschal, is it not?" Temoras walked to the desk and scowled at the number of folded papers sealed with Glorfindel's symbol. "I cannot lead this House to war, though. You will do them no good if you are too tired to think."

"I can sleep in the saddle."

"And that sleep will do you little good. You need to bathe and dress."

Glorfindel closed his eyes briefly. "Please, Temoras, I just want a little more time."

Temoras sighed. "I will have food sent," he said, moving back to the door. "Your squires are seeing to your armor and horse. But the king will soon be calling for his captains."

"Thank you."

But Temoras was already gone.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

And, oh, when I'm old and wise,

Bitter words mean little to me.

Autumn winds will blow right through me.

And someday, in the mist of time,

When they asked me if I knew you,

I'd smile and say you were a friend of mine

And the sadness would be lifted from my eyes.

Oh, when I'm old and wise.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

The breakfast proved to be a light meal of bread, cheese, and fruit chased with a light wine but it sat heavily in Glorfindel's stomach and did little to clear his mind. He went to the bathing room and took a quick bath in water cool enough to invigorate him. He changed from his disheveled clothing to the sturdy but comfortable trousers and tunic that he would wear beneath the armor. The clothes would reek of horse and sweat long before they engaged in battle.

Glorfindel sat once more at the desk, pulling his golden hair back into its customary war braids. His gaze went to the letter before him and he read the words he had written so far before picking up the quill once more.

I have inadequate words to express the friendship we have had these many years. A friendship forged in hardship and sorrow. You have stood beside me these many years, nearly five centuries since our first meeting. We have been closer than friends. We are more akin to brothers. Brothers in all but blood.

Should these be my last words to you, I want you to know how much this friendship has meant. You shall always be my friend.

Glorfindel blew gently upon the ink to make sure it dried and read its contents once more. Satisfied, he carefully folded the page and sealed it with hot wax and his signet. Looking out the window, he could see the sunshine now hitting the top of the King's Tower. He had tarried long enough.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

As far as my eyes can see,

There are shadows surrounding me.

And to those I leave behind,

I want you all to know

You've always shared my darkest hours.

I'll miss you when I go.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

He dressed quickly in his armor, settling the gold-washed chain mail across his shoulders and chest. He let his squires assist in positioning and buckling the plates across his shoulders and chest. He could have done it himself. In fact, he HAD done it himself on many occasions. But Temoras often reminded him that he had a certain image to maintain as a lord. Finally, he buckled his sword belt across his hips and made sure the dark green cloak he wore did not restrict his reach or movement.

Temoras entered and bowed formally. "My lord, the soldiers await you. King Turgon has called assembly."

Glorfindel nodded and straightened. "Thank you, Temoras." He dismissed the squires with a nod and joined the old seneschal, grasping his shoulder in friendship. "Take care of my house in my absence, old friend."

Temoras blinked back moisture as he returned the gesture. "You will find it as you left it."

Glorfindel did not answer immediately. Instead, he went to a nearby table and picked up a sealed envelope. "If I do not return, please give this to Lord Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain."

"Lord Glorfindel"

Glorfindel turned away and strode out of the armory, not daring pause lest his courage left him. He knew Temoras would understand. He made his way down the broad marble stairs of the main hall to the front doors.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

And, oh, when I'm old and wise,

Heavy words that tossed and blew me

Like autumn winds will blow right through me

And someday, in the mist of time,

When they ask you if you knew me

Remember that you were a friend of mine

As the final curtain falls before my eyes.

Oh, when I'm old and wise.

ڃ ڃ ڃ

Temoras hurried from the armory to a balcony overlooking the main square as he heard a cheer erupt from outside. The assembled troops of the House of the Golden Flower, nearly a thousand strong, were cheering the arrival of their lord. The clamor rose to a near-deafening roar as they hammered spear or sword against their shield in salute. Glorfindel bowed deeply in acknowledgement of the salute, then raised his hands. Almost immediately, the crowd fell silent.

The words reached Temoras' ears too faintly to be understood but another loud cheer followed. Glorfindel mounted the nearly white horse waiting for him, held by his standard-bearer. Then he rode out of the courtyard. Ecthelion waited outside with the troops of his own House. The two captains embraced briefly and led their troops to join the others awaiting the command of the king.

The End