A Sense of History: Straight Road
The next in a series of articles about ships passing to and from the West, Simon uses "The Fall of Númenor" to attempt to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to "Beowulf."
Joy
Glorfindel woke to the sound of voices talking below. He felt surprisingly well rested, considering how little sleep he had got. He smiled happily as he remembered falling asleep in Erestor’s arms, exhausted from the joy they had found with each other. Sitting up with a yawn, he found the bed besides him empty, but when he stepped from behind the screen, he could make out Erestor talking to somebody down on the ground. Glorfindel went in search for his clothes and had just got dressed when Erestor’s face appeared over the edge of the talan, smirking.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Had a good night?”
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. “Acceptable,” he said drily, but his eyes twinkled, making Erestor laugh.
“Good. Why do we not go for a quick swim to refresh ourselves before breakfast?”
Glorfindel happily agreed, and they set off in the direction of the bathing pools. After breakfast, which they shared with some other elves in a small clearing nearby, a messenger found them, telling Glorfindel that the lady wanted to meet him ‘at the gate or at the stables, whatever is more convenient’.
“My cousin seems to not miss anything,” Glorfindel chuckled.
Erestor nodded, a strange gleam in his eyes. “You get used to it with time - but you know that, of course.”
“It was not as bad back then, before Nenya. Well, I better do not keep her waiting.” Glorfindel got up. “Will you come with me?”
oOo
Erestor led him back to the breeding barn but continued onwards to another clearing, where several smaller paddocks housed mares with foals, and some who were due soon. In the largest paddock, where a few yearlings were romping about, they found Galadriel with Celebrían and Elrond who were holding hands.
Glorfindel could not hide a grin when he saw his master quickly let go of the girl when they approached, but was distracted by one of the yearlings who ran up to him for a mock attack, only to dart back off with a a playful whinny. Glorfindel gasped, shocked by the sight of the animal’s gleaming white coat and a shape and bearing that seemed hauntingly familiar.
Gilfaloth! My sweet Gil, how do you come to be here? This cannot be real ...
He shook his head as if to disperse a phantom, but the colt with the unusually white coat was still there, looking like a twin of his beloved Gilfaloth, the horse he had owned in Gondolin.
One of the downsides of living in the secluded city had been the lack of horses, as resources were limited, and it had been the happiest day for him when his king had honoured him with the gift of a young stallion in recognition for his services. It was a kingly gift, his bloodline going back to the noblest horses of Valinor, and Glorfindel had named him Gilfaloth, his silvery coat reminding him of sea foam and starlight. He could not have found a better and more steadfast companion, and Glorfindel missed him still. None of the horses he had ridden since his rebirth came even close.
It had to be coincidence, though, that this yearling resembled Gilfaloth so closely, as it would have been a miracle if his beloved steed had escaped the doom of Gondolin. And even if he had, he would have reached the end of his life-span many yéni ago.
Taking a deep breath, Glorfindel looked around, noticing the concern of the others at his reaction.
“I see you have already discovered my surprise,” Galadriel remarked drily. “Pity, I had not planned this to be such a shock, but that young one has a mind of his own.”
Erestor chuckled and let out a low whistle. The white colt stopped at the sound, turned his head to listen, and ran up to Erestor to have his neck petted and scratched.
Glorfindel cleared his throat. “What do you mean, surprise?”
Galadriel came to his side and put her arm around his shoulders, leading him up to the fence which was woven of thin Hithlain rope. One of the other yearlings came up, nosing at Galadriel’s free hand, and she patted her softly.
“I have never met your famed white horse, but have heard many tales of his virtue and beauty. After the fall of your city, some of the refugees brought horses with them, and one was a mare in foal. She gave birth to a perfectly white colt, which eventually came into my hands. He was special to me, since he was the son of a horse which had been so dear to you, and became the progenitor of a long line of excellent horses. This one is the last descendant of that line. Not many were so perfectly white and had such beautiful lines, and when I saw him I decided that you must have him. He has Gilfaloth’s blood, and who could be better suited to be his rider?”
Unable to draw his eyes away from the white colt who was again romping around, Glorfindel did not notice the tears wetting his cheeks. He whistled softly and, as before, the white colt stopped, cocked his ear, and came to investigate. Glorfindel laughed and cried at the same time now, petting the beautiful head and scratching his mane and behind the ears, whispering silly nonsense at the animal who seemed rather taken with this new elf.
“Thank you, Tanis,” Glorfindel whispered, too overcome to trust his voice, “you have no idea what this means to me. Thank you so much.”
Galadriel laughed softly. “Actually, I have, but you are very welcome, Laurë. Seeing you again after all this time gives me equal pleasure, and I am happy I can give you something back.”
Glorfindel blushed, only too aware of how selfish he had been in his reluctance to adapt to this new life, realising he had hurt himself most with his withdrawal, but also those he cared for.
“Forgive me. I will do better from now on.”
She laughed again, full of warmth and love. “There is nothing to forgive. I understand that it has been difficult for you.”
The white yearling became impatient, bumping his new master so the scratching would continue. Glorfindel laughed and resumed the desired ministrations.
“Does he already have a name?”
“No, I wanted you to give it to him.”
Glorfindel smiled gratefully, giving his full attention again to the colt. A gust of wind caused the dappled sunshine filtering through the leaves to dance merrily, painting a lively pattern of light and shadow on the gleaming coat.
“Asfaloth,” Glorfindel said. “He looks so much like his forefather, but his coat is a warmer shade of white. He looks like sea foam, too, but lit by the sun, not by the stars.”
oOo
Tanis, Artanis - Galadriel
Asfaloth - sunlit foam