Now and Evermore by Katie Tran

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Prologue

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Aman

(A Younger Glorfindel)

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“What a strange child they had left. Why would his parents, Cilladh and Gelluithel, just up and leave like that?”

“Oh! What a beautiful son, dear little Laurefindil is. That golden head of curls! It is just too bad that…You know…”

“Is he well? Why does he not speak much?”

“Shh! He might hear you!”

He heard similar whispers and gossips behind his back everyday since he turned his nineteenth year; practically still a babe by firstborn standards.
No one knew why his parents disappeared. It was a mystery because most folks would agree Valinor was the most safe and beautiful of places. No one cared to look for Cilladh and Gelluithel. Perhaps the high eldar did not consider them important enough for they were not noble nor were they royal.

But what did Glorfindel know? At his young age, his legs were still painfully short and stubby. His face still fleshy with baby fat. He preferred spending his days with sticks in the dirt and maybe skip rocks in the lakes once in a while. Although his natural inclinations were to run, hunt and ride, his toddler body could not keep up with the local, boisterous elflings whom often left him stumbling behind.

Today, it was a fellow blonde boy and his mean-spirited dark-haired sibling. He believed he heard the blonde to be called, Tyelkormo. He was a big boy, that one. A bruiser and not particularly nice either.

Tyelkormo gave little Glorfindel a nasty sneer, but his childish, growing teeth ruined the effect. Glorfindel stifled a snicker inside his head.
Fëanor’s third son pointed his chubby index finger towards a ripe, orange mango dangling high up in one of Yavanna’s great trees.

“I bet you couldn’t get that mango before I could,” He challenged the younger elf.

“Huh? Sure I could,” Glorfindel insisted.

“Come on then. Let’s race. What do you say? The winner gets their first sword and shield to practice the field with from grandfather Finwë last I heard.”

Glorfindel wanted to remind him that the high Noldor King wouldn’t gift him anything regardless if he did win. He was not part of the royal family; merely an outsider. He didn’t say anything, however. Tyelkormo was not going to listen. He was already climbing the tree, giving himself a head start.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” He protested. Glorfindel scrambled to keep up while Tyelko’s brother Curufinwë cheered him on from the ground.

Glorfindel dug his nails and bare toes into the rough bark of the thick tree, scraping his skin in the process. He dodged and pushed away branches that got in his way with that one, delicious-looking mango above him as his aim.
Before he knew it, he was beating Tyelkormo.

“I got it!” He plucked the fruit and held it up, grinning from ear to ear with pride.

A panting and sweaty Tyelko finally caught up and sat himself next to Glorfindel. He huffed.

“Not bad. You’re not as much of a pansy as I thought you were, Laurë,” Tyelko gave him a good pat on the back.

Not really comprehending whether or not he had just been insulted or complimented, he gave the light-haired third son of Fëanor an unsure smile in return.

“Thank you?”

Tyelko’s grin then turned into an unpleasant smirk.

“Although you forget, brat. All’s fair in war,” He made a grab for the mango in Glorfindel’s grasp and pushed the little elfling down the tree.

With a cry, Glorfindel tried to cling for any branch that passed his way, but even the one, frail branch he managed to cling on to broke. It sent him toppling down to the ground.
Everything burned and hurt like hell.

He felt something warm trickle down his forehead. Reaching up to feel the wet liquid, he grunted in pain and opened his eyes to see crimson smeared all over his fingers.

“Come on, Tyelko! Let’s go before someone sees!” Curufinwë hissed and the two boys took flight.

Glorfindel laid there surrounded by twigs, mud and fury. Fury turned to shame and loneliness. Why was it so hard for him to make friends? Why were his parents gone? It seemed ages as he laid there on the uncomfortable ground until he heard a deep, soothing voice called out to him.

“Hello there.”

It was Lord Fëanor’s half-brother. Glorfindel somewhat recognized him as Lord Nolofinwë. His clumsy, untrained limbs jumbled to do a proper Noldorin bow towards the high prince. Looking up, he was confused to see Lord Nolofinwë gazing at him with both concern and sadness. Glorfindel’s face coloured when he realized the elder elf lord probably saw the whole spectacle earlier.
He was even more amazed to see another dark-haired elfling pop his little head from behind Nolofinwë’s regal robes. He looked to be only slightly older than Glorfindel was. The elfling gave him a shy smile.

“Come little one. You can hang out with us,” The high prince held a large hand out for little Glorfindel.
“Turukáno, why are you so shy? Come out and say hello to your new friend now.”

Turukáno, the elfling behind the robes immediately spoke and took Glorfindel’s other hand.

“Hi…”

“This is my second eldest son, Turukáno. I am Nolofinwë as you may know,” Nolofinwë smiled down at Glorfindel. “What is your name, child?”

Encouraged by both father and son’s warm and friendly demeanors, he beamed.

“I am called Laurefindil!”

“Well then, Laurefindil. Welcome to the House of Fingolfin. We are happy to have you with us. But first, we need to do something about those distressing injuries of yours.”

 

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Names

 

Laurefindil/Laurë/Laurefindelë = Glorfindel

Nolofinwë = Fingolfin

Tyelkormo/Tyelko = Celegorm

Curufinwë = Curufin

Turukáno = Turgon