Without A Sound

Beta: Fimbrethiel

Glorfindel ran his fingers over the tiny features of his only child. Rawen's blue-grey eyes were distant in her reverie, and the noble Elda smiled. He leaned down, bestowing a chaste kiss to her brow and inhaling the sweet, child-like scent of his daughter. She had not yet seen four summers, but she was the pride of Glorfindel's House. Her golden hair was fanned about her on the pale pink bedclothes and her little fist clutched at a stuffed cloth doll Idril had made for the first-born of golden Glorfindel.

"Caboren," he whispered in the quiet warmth of the room. "I have to leave you again, pen dithen. Your Naneth and I will be back to break fast with you." He stroked her cheek, marveling at the softness he found there, and his eyes clouded with tears. "Oh, Rawen, how I love you. You hopped from my dreams into my life." Glorfindel bent a second time, kissing the girl's pursed pink lips with reverence and tenderness. "May your dreams be joyful this night."

He stood from her bedside and, still smiling, walked from Rawen's rooms. Tonight, the Elves of Gondolin would celebrate Tarnin Austa, and when dawn broke, Glorfindel's voice would join the chorus of Elves greeting the new summer. His wife waited for him in the courtyard of their home, dressed in flowing white with her dark hair hanging in intricate plaits down her back. Her grey eyes sparkled with mirth and love as she gazed at him and Glorfindel was reminded yet again how beautiful the women in his life were, just how lucky he was. She took his hand in hers and they slowly made their way through the quiet streets toward the eastern wall of the city.

"I told you she would be sleeping, hervenen," Mîrwen said quietly, resting her head upon Glorfindel's shoulder as they walked. Glorfindel knew this conversation well, and steeled himself for the reprimand his wife typically gave him for being away so often. "She misses you often, Glorfindel."

"Hush, hervess. We near the wall," he said, ignoring her words. The Elda released his wife's hand and mounted the tall wall, taking his place beside the other great lords of Gondolin. Their eyes were turned to the sky, still pink as Anor set and Ithil rose to replace her.

There was silence, as if a breath was held among them all, as the sky continued to darken. The heat of the day had long since passed, and as he looked into the golden-pink light of the fading day, Glorfindel's mind turned once more to the jewel of his existence. His daughter was a blessing upon his House. Mîrwen had suffered from an affliction unheard of among the Elves in all their long, collective years; she could not conceive when they had decided to begin their family. Years continued, with monthly disappointments as a child was still denied to them.

Four winters ago, though, Mîrwen had sought him out in the guardhouse, her face flushed and a smile bright as Anor shining on her lips.

They were expecting their first child.

There had been complications when their daughter was born. Rawen would never have siblings; she would be the only one to carry on Glorfindel's line. And as Turgon repeatedly informed Glorfindel, he spoiled the child with all his attention, love and various baubles and gifts. But, he knew all those material things that littered the floors of her rooms could never make up for all the time he had already lost with her, could never compensate for how often he was away from his beloved family.

Rawen's eyes, so large and innocent, would always be in his mind as he went about his days. He would recall her clinging to him, whimpering her pleas for him to remain just a few moments longer, and how he would hug her and hand her sniffling form back to the governess. She never had to say much, no... those eyes spoke to him more than anything Rawen could have said. Wide, shimmering pools of disappointment and sadness. Those memories are what drove him to shower her with things and smother her when he was home.

The sun sank completely and the day gave way to night. All eyes looked in expectation to the east, but the light that came to them shone from the north. Glorfindel turned to Turgon, his brow furrowed with confusion. "What is this, my Lord?" he asked quietly.

"I am not sure," Turgon said, stepping passed his two closest friends. Ecthelion tilted his head and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Glorfindel watched as the gathered Elves came close to the walls, their eyes glancing in wonder at the unexpected light. Glorfindel watched with dawning horror as the light dimmed and became red, casting the snowy mountains in a blood-like haze. Horses clattered in the streets below and Turgon called to the riders, demanding all the lords assemble quickly.

"Melko is upon us!" the sentries cried and Glorfindel's heart froze in terror. He sought out Mîrwen among the wailing and screaming female, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"Mîrwen," he said, taking her face between his hands. "Go to the house. Take Cilith and Anion with you; do not leave their side until they take you to safety." He kissed her briefly and looked on in concern as she fled behind two of his soldiers.

Glorfindel called to those warriors of his House and they quickly assembled in one of the squares. He dispatched several of their young squires, ordering them to return to the weapons room of their House and retrieve weapons and helms. The Elves of the Golden Flower were quickly armed, drawing their swords and donning their helms. The great banner of the House of the Golden Flower fluttered in the breeze, the green and gold bright in the reddish light of Melko's beasts.

In one hand Glorfindel held his large shield, a rayed sun emblazoned on the heavy wood, and in the other was his great sword. His cloak was long and deep green, the celandine shone like wildflowers on the verdant slopes of the mountains in spring. Gold. To those who looked upon him, Glorfindel was all shining gold and fierce determination. A clatter from the south sounded and Glorfindel smiled to see Ecthelion and his men rush through the street, sparkling with diamonds and steel. The soft sounds of the Fountain's flautists filling the air, surrounding Ecthelion's House in an ethereal air.

The Elda feared for his family and would search every house and courtyard they came near, hoping to glimpse his wife and child, but he never saw them. Cilith and Anion never returned to their lord's side, which worried Glorfindel the closer those red lights came to the city walls. He glanced up at the sky and noted that mid-night was still some time off, and he was certain that they had not seen the worst of this night.

Ecthelion came for him, demanding he come with him to the King's side. There they took counsel, though Rawen's image continued to haunt Glorfindel and distracted him from giving sage words. When Turgon gave the order to defend the city, and Tuor left the room with tears on his cheeks, Glorfindel went to search for his family. Ecthelion stopped him, though, as they entered the streets of Gondolin again.

"Nay, meldir. We must take position. Your men will take care of your family, but you are needed, Chief of the Golden Flower." Ecthelion's grey gaze pierced through Glorfindel's concern and his words reminded Glorfindel of his duties.

"Aye, Ecthelion." Glorfindel leaned in and kissed Ecthelion's lips chastely and the Lord of the Fountain embraced him. "Be well, cell linnol," he said, squeezing Ecthelion's hand as they parted.

Glorfindel coughed and squinted, walking back to where his men waited. He was quickly sweating beneath his mail and the stench invading the city threatened to choke him. Glorfindel stood with his men below the great battlements where the Elves of the Heavenly Arch and of the Swallows rained down arrows upon the approaching evil. They cried out with hope then, and Duilin called down that the serpents could not climb the steep, slick hills.

But, moist heat soon flooded the pathways and Glorfindel could see women in swoons from the vapors. The warriors became sticky beneath their armor, the sweat thick and hot against their skin, their limbs becoming heavy with weariness. Glorfindel panted, clenching his sword, waiting for something... anything other than this waiting as the archers tried to defend the city.

The men whispered of the various fountains steaming, boiling with the heat the serpents created in the valley below. It became quiet and still, and Glorfindel held his breath in dread. There was a horrible noise from the northern gates and the Elves cried that the beasts were beating against their gates, but the walls of the city still held firm and Glorfindel prayed to the Valar he had forsaken.

Glorfindel did not know what happened then, but the streets were soon flooded with armed Orcs. Rog shouted for the Elves of the Hammer of Wrath to advance, to protect their city; the people of the Tree, with Galdor leading them, joined their brethren in battle. The Swallows and the Arch fired into the fray, felling both Orcs and Elves beneath the smoke and confusion.

His blue eyes swept the chaos-cluttered streets, his sword flashing in the crimson lights of Melko. His fellow Elves fell about him and Glorfindel wept as he slaughtered the filth flowing into the hidden city. It was then he saw Cilith; a tiny golden head rest against the tall Elf's shoulder as he ran through the city, away from danger. His heart was lightened then and his sword moved more swiftly, and golden Glorfindel thought they might survive the night.

It was at that moment that Glorfindel looked up into the sky where fire fell upon the city, the fearsome Balrogs flinging darts of fire into the gardens and homes of Turgon's people.

"Rawen," he breathed, tears filling his eyes.

"It is over, Glorfindel."

The golden Elf turned to the commanding voice, and his eyes widened. "Námo." Behind the tall Vala were doors, even taller than Námo. The Halls of Mandos. "I fell," he said simply, the weight of his demise heavy upon him.

"Aye, you fell," Námo said softly.

Early in the morning, teetering on that precipice, and battling the Balrog... Falling, surrounded by fire and shadow, his daughter's image flashing in his mind before that bone crunching landing on the sharp rocks in the ravine. "Rawen--"

"Is in Sirion, cared for by her governess."

Glorfindel's eyes clouded in confusion. "Why is Mîrwen not with her?"

"Mîrwen fell protecting Rawen while Cilith fought the beasts that assailed the group as they fled. Anion fell as well." Námo's eyes seemed sad, but Glorfindel could not understand why the Vala who had exiled the Noldor could feel sorrow for them. "Come, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel stared in disbelief. "I cannot leave her alone!"

"Rawen is not alone," Námo said calmly.

"She is without her Naneth or her Adar. How is she not alone?"

Námo crossed his arms. "She is cared for by Rodwen, Glorfindel. You and your wife have passed into my realm and each has a sentence to carry out."

The Elda knew that his fear showed in his eyes. "Sentence?"

"Did you forget what was said as you left Aman? I warned that you would all face a price, face consequences for your choices and your fell deeds. You slew kin, Glorfindel. There is a penalty you must now pay." Námo spoke evenly, coolly, and Glorfindel felt himself becoming angry.

"I did not slay my kin for their ships!"

Námo smiled. "I did not say you did. I merely said you slew your kin, which you did do, Glorfindel."

The anger drained from his being and Glorfindel hung his head in shame. He felt the tears form in his eyes, slowly spilling down his cheeks. Glorfindel worried now that he would never see his beloved daughter again, and his heart ached at the thought.

"Glorfindel of Gondolin, son of Aegnor, and exile of Aman -- you will remain in my halls for a period of no less than one thousand and fifty years. In that time, you shall have repaid your debt of blood and the sin purged from your faer. When the appointed time has come, you may be re-embodied, but not until that time." The proclamation stung, and Glorfindel nodded silently, his tears glistening on his cheeks.

His daughter was alone. He would never see her grow into a woman, marry or have children of her own. Rawen would forget the doting Nana who had sung to her when woken from childish nightmares, and the Ada who showered her in baubles and affection. She would grow only knowing the stories Rodwen told her, hearing of the valor of her long-dead Ada and devoted Nana.

He would not hold her again, feeling the softness of her curls and smelling sweetness of her skin. Glorfindel could not protect her from the trials and sadness he had endured in his long years; he could not show he all the things that life could offer her in happiness and joy. He was condemned to love her from the Halls of the Dead, alone in his punishment.

"Come," Námo called again, and Glorfindel followed the Vala, the doors opening soundlessly before them. He continued to weep as they walked silently. He cried about how long he would be parted from Rawen, cried about leaving her all alone in a world that would shift and change with time.

Glorfindel walked quietly through the halls. His mind swam in doubt and fear as he mounted the stairs, climbing up and up, toward a shining beacon he thought he would never set eyes upon again. The Elda clenched and unclenched his fists, and he continuously fidgeted with his garments and hair. Elrond had assured him he looked stunning, every bit the Elven-lord he had once been, but it was not Elrond's opinion that mattered to the golden Elf.

He stopped in front of an ornate door and took a deep breath. Before his courage could fail him, as it had for years now, he knocked. There was giggling behind the wooden door, and then soft footsteps. Once it opened to him, he saw a face he had not seen in over a millennium. "Rodwen," he breathed, tears welling in his eyes.

"My Lord," the she-Elf said, bowing her head. "Come inside."

Glorfindel chewed his lip, playing with the silver ring on his index finger, his eyes darting over Rodwen's shoulder. "If this is not a proper time," he began.

"Nonsense, my Lord. Join us. Please." Rodwen opened the door further and stepped back, waving for Glorfindel to enter the spacious, sunny rooms. "She is waiting for you."

The Elda walked inside on unsteady legs, swallowing back his tears. He had not come to her when he first returned. He couldn't. Then the years slipped by, and one year became twenty. Though he had dreamed of her for days uncounted, he still had not been able to convince himself to seek her out.

But, Elrond and Erestor had. They had brought her to the High-King's home, given her a beautiful room and a glorious view of the ocean. The Elf-lords had spoiled her with treats, attendants and dresses. Glorfindel was certain she knew he was in the palace, that he knew she had come. He still could not bring himself to go to her.

Elrond had dressed him, Erestor had plaited his hair, and Celeborn had escorted him most of the way to the stairs.

Then he was on his own.

Golden hair, that was what he saw first. Thick, lustrous, golden curls that fell in long tresses and decorated in rubies and citrine. She had her back to him, looking out the open windows to the sea. Her dress was tight about her slender waist, flaring out where the bodice met her hips. The crimson fabric set off her golden hair perfectly, and longing gripped Glorfindel. He wanted to reach out and touch those locks, wrap his arms around that tiny waist, draw her into his protective embrace.

He stopped a few feet from her and cleared his throat. "My Lady," he said, though his voice was rough, forced through a dry and constricted throat.

She turned, stormy blue-grey eyes shimmering, tears clinging to dark lashes. She was as tall as Glorfindel, shapely like Mîrwen. Her lips were full and her eyes wide-set. She was as beautiful as Glorfindel had imagined her, a woman now when once she was but a child to him. On her hand was a silver ring, and a pain shot through Glorfindel's heart. She had wed and he had not been there to see it.

"Ada?" she said, her chin trembling and her voice tremulous. "Please tell me this is not a dream, as I have had many such as this over the long years."

"Oh no, caboren, it is not a dream," he said, holding his arms out, inviting her to embrace him. "I am here."

The tears spilled down her flushed cheeks and she threw herself into his arms. "Ada!" Rawen sobbed against Glorfindel's chest, clinging to him as she had when she was a child with skinned knees or a broken toy that needed mending. "Oh, Ada," she whimpered, and the sound both broke and strengthened Glorfindel's heart.

He kissed her golden head, inhaling her scent. His own tears spilled and Glorfindel clung to her as surely as she clung to him. "Rawen, my little frog. You have grown so tall and beautiful; a golden flower survived the wreckage of Gondolin. Oh, my daughter, how I have missed you!" He stroked her hair and pulled back so as to look into her tearstained face. Glorfindel smiled at her, brushing the tears from her plump cheeks. "You are so beautiful, Rawen."

"Ada," she breathed, leaning heavily on him. "I have missed you as well. So very much." Her voice was musical, soft and lyrical. She took his hand into her and pulled him to a divan, bringing him down onto the soft surface with her. Her eyes devoured him, and he drank in her countenance. "Rodwen told me you and Naneth died, Ada." Her voice seemed to catch on the last word, and he squeezed her hand tightly in hers.

"Rawen, I always wanted to be near you, to protect and love you as a father should want to do for his daughter. I want to tell you everything, caboren. Everything and anything, but I simply do not know where to begin. So much time has passed us by... Is it too late, Rawen? Do you no longer need your father by your side?" Glorfindel could hear the desperation in his own voice, but he could do nothing to hide it. He feared his daughter would not need him any longer, that she had a husband and Rodwen, why would she still need an absent father who had been away from her so often as a babe?

Rawen blinked slowly, new tears in her eyes. "No longer need you... Ada, how can I not need you?"

"Sweet Rawen, you are all grown up, with a husband of your own, and I am certain children--"

"And my children would need their Ada no matter when he could come to them. I know you did not leave me because you wanted to, Ada. I have loved you since I knew what love was, and that has not change or lessened in the passing of the years. Do you have no need of a daughter any longer?" she asked, capturing her lip between her teeth.

Glorfindel reached out, drawing her into his lap as he had when she was a child. "I always have need of you, my child. Always." He kissed her temple and held her close as he silently wept with relief and blossoming happiness.

He didn't know how to begin the tale of what he had been through, to explain to her where he had been all these years, but he was certain the words would come to him.

After all, he now had a whole lifetime to tell his tale to her.

"I will always love you, Rawen. Always," he whispered, tightening his hold around her slim body.