Fields of gold

So, erm. This is meant to be a one shot, for the moment. If it gathers some enthusiasm, I'll consider writing the full story 😊 I have an outline, I just lack the time.

The picture is from Alystrea, she is incredible !

In one of Tolkien's works, it is implied that Glorfindel left a lady love in Valinor. This is my own version with a twist.

A whiff of summer wheat and earth danced in the heavy iodine, stretched and discreet, but his heart leapt in anticipation. After weeks of sailing – such a short time in the life of an elf, such a long time for his restless mind - , the ancient lord welcomed this change with both dread and relief.

He stood still, but no less vibrant at the prow. Yet, no one could ever mistake him for the figurehead, for the Lord of the Golden Flower had no equivalent on middle earth. An elf of the first age, with such spiritual power that he dwarfed even the lady Galadriel in his better days. He, alone, had been mighty enough to chase the Nazgûls with just a display of his inner light.

Distasteful creatures; they now resided in the void, as did Morgoth and his servant Sauron the deceiver.

Middle Earth would now have to fend for itself; he'd left in the hands of little Estel, who had grown to be a great man. His time had passed – at last ! Too many years serving his purpose, looking after Eärendil's house, protecting them to a fault until his inner self was too frayed to go on.

Ocean Spray graced his glowing skin, the eager elements welcoming him back in Aman; a place he had left with reluctance in pursuit of King Turgon after the fall of the Great Trees. A haven where his heart once dwelt.

Not anymore.

For sure, renouncing the lands of his forefathers would pain him, especially to cross into this crass world plagued by noise, stench and absurdity. But he didn't see any other way.

A compassionate hand landed on his shoulder; he remained still. Not many dared touching the legendary Balrog Slayer.

"Soon..."

Elrond, son of the elfling he'd died saving, had a knack for hiding his visions in the midst of obvious statements. Who, better than a seer, to lay the harsh truth before him ? He held much respect for Elrond; he'd fought by his side, followed his hints when needed, and kept Imladris safe in good intelligence for thousands of years. That his friend would be ready to sacrifice so much for his sake... to let him go, even after he'd lost his own daughter to mortality, was a statement of devotion.

Glorfindel, formerly known as Laurëfindelë, barely nodded at his friend. Soon, he would set foot in Aman once more, after 4500 years of absence. Soon, his feet would grace the ground where he was born. Soon, he would petition the Valar to send him away on a distasteful piece of land, called England, where she awaited his return. Was she even alive ?

So weary... he was so weary of war, of struggling against the shadow. Less than a year with her had awakened the need for a peaceful life. More than four thousand years later, her memory was as vivid as ever. The shape of her almond eyes, the flecks of gold in her gaze, the deep blood red of her wavy hair, the sheer beauty of her smile... She had been the one he called upon every time he needed the light to burst forth. He carried her in his heart.

For an age, Glorfindel, as they called him in middle earth, had been akin to the sun, wrapped in the greater power of the first age elves, shining like a beacon of hope. The lonely Balrog Slayer, with a merry disposition and a gentle heart. Untouchable... for he belonged to someone else. Someone far from those shores, further even, than Valinor.