Upon the Branching Years by IgnobleBard

More Glorfindel More Problems

Legolas finally gets close to Glorfindel, then regrets it.

The days in the armory started later and ended earlier, so Legolas had more time to explore the city. Now the markets were open when he strolled through them, and he had coin to eat at a restaurant or visit a pub on occasion. His clothing, marking him as part of the military branch of his house, earned him a modicum of respect, though he remained a focus of curiosity to many.

One day as he was wandering the Great Market looking for a book or two to settle in with in the evenings, he saw Glorfindel at the next stall over trying on a pair of gloves. He wanted desperately to make his acquaintance but it would be unseemly for him to make the first move. He lingered before the book stall, unable to focus on the titles and casting occasional surreptitious glances in his direction.

“Are you planning on buying that or reading it right here?” the bookseller snapped, startling him.

Legolas dropped the book he had been pretending to read and, at the seller’s angry cry, snatched it up and fumbled for his purse to pay.

Suddenly Glorfindel was beside him with an amused smile and Legolas felt heat rise to his face. “You seem to cause a disturbance wherever you go, young Sinda. Can you not at least comport yourself with a bit of decorum in public?”

“Apparently not, though I also seem to be the cause of so much scrutiny perhaps my errors are merely magnified,” Legolas said when he found his tongue.

Glorfindel’s eyebrows shot up at his impudence. “To a person with nothing to hide, scrutiny is not a cause for concern I should think.”

Legolas averted his eyes and rebuked himself for his insolent remark. He was disappointed with both himself and Glorfindel. This was not the man he knew and loved. His inability to accept things as they were might be putting the fate of Arda in danger. Why had Ulmo chosen him to set things right? It seemed supremely unfair just now.

“Forgive me, Lord Glorfindel,” he said deferentially. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“Not so fast,” Glorfindel said. “Galdor thinks highly of you and you seem to have proven your worth. From the kitchens to the armory in record time I have heard.”

Legolas’ shoulders sagged in defeat, yet his look remained defiant. “Lord Galdor has been good to me, but I like to think I have earned his favor, whatever the wagging tongues of Gondolin might say.”

“I’m sure you have,” Glorfindel said with a suggestive grin that sparked Legolas to anger.

“If you were not a Lord I would make challenge for that remark, but then if your manners befit one of your title you would not have said it!” He started to stalk off but Glorfindel grabbed his arm and spun him around.

“The favor of your master has made you too bold,” he began heatedly, but then his grip loosened and his face took on an apologetic aspect, “yet your words strike true. Galdor is a good man and a great Lord and so it is I who must ask your pardon for my boorish inference.”

“I don’t understand what I have done to merit the scorn of Lords such as yourself and Ecthelion, but it is unwarranted. I am neither a threat nor an upstart.”

Glorfindel sighed. “You are worse than either of those. You are new. You are not easy to categorize, and that can be a threat to those who have become complacent, knowing complacency could well be their doom.”

Legolas self-consciously fingered the spine of the book he held, uncertain how to respond. Perhaps the Noldor were more concerned with one's station and background in this Age. He had to remind himself it wouldn’t always be so.

“Then Gondolin is nothing but a pretty prison, a place were gossip and frivolity have replaced passion and progress,” he said at last.

“Fine words coming from a forest dweller who never battled a threat greater than a bear,” Glorfindel said, offended. “Your people have largely given up the fight while the Noldor remain ever at the ready. The enemy does not realize the strength of Gondolin and our twelve Great Houses. Our armies are in constant training, our patrols prevent spies, even from common beasts, our secrecy is ensured by wards and enchantments and constant vigilance. The city is strategically and cunningly built and positioned. Even if enemies could cross the mountains they could not easily retreat and would be cut down if they tried. This place is impregnable, and so peaceful our knowledge and power increase unabated. What we have accomplished here rivals, nay surpasses, anything you would see in Aman!”

Glorfindel’s speech was becoming so fervent that people were starting to gather to listen. Legolas glanced around, increasingly uncomfortable as the crowd grew. When Glorfindel realized the sensation he was causing, he stopped. He and Legolas stared at each other in silence until the press of people, seeing no more proclamations were forthcoming, again drifted off to their shopping.

“Good thing I’m not a spy,” Legolas said drolly, his eyes twinkling at the absurdity of this conversation.

Glorfindel let out burst of laughter so sudden and hearty it made heads turn toward them again. “There is something disarming about you, I confess it.” he said. “I can see why Galdor took you on.” A look of confusion crossed his face, and the smile he gave to cover it was enigmatic. “I regret not speaking up on your behalf that day at the palace.”

“It is no great matter,” Legolas said. An odd feeling came over him then, like a piece of a puzzle clicking into place. He had never felt its like before. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Glorfindel hesitated as if there was something else he wanted to say but didn’t know how. At last he said, “Well then, enjoy your fish book.”

Legolas looked down to see the book he held was titled Raising Spell Resistant Trout For Fun and Profit. He groaned inwardly. He had been hoping for some pleasant reading before bed. When he raised his eyes Glorfindel was gone. He couldn’t seem to catch a break, but the Lord of the Golden Flower had finally acknowledged him. He had to consider that good fortune at least.

His fortune was short lived, however. Galdor was in the armory waiting for him upon his return, and his look was stormy. “Are you trying to bring disrepute upon my house or are you completely unable to function outside a forest? It has been reported to me that Lord Glorfindel was forced to give you a public dressing down in the Great Market today.”

“It wasn’t like that, Lord Galdor, I…”

“Then explain yourself.”

Galdor stood with his arms crossed, glowering angrily. Legolas understood that he had become as complacent in his Lord’s favor as the city had become in its concealment. Though he had done nothing wrong, he was only a servant and so the fault fell upon him. He should not have allowed Glorfindel’s provocation to best him.

He hung his head. “I cannot, my lord. I apologize for my conduct and assure you it will not be repeated.”

Galdor’s tone softened, but only a little. “I am disappointed in you, Legolas. You are confined to this house for a week.”

“Yes, my lord. Thank you,” he said softly. Though he knew it pained Galdor to have to punish him, it pained him more that he must forgo his daily walks around the city. First the King’s Square had been spoiled for him, now it seemed the Great Market was off limits as well.

He fell into bed that night and halfheartedly flipped through his book on trout. “So that’s how Ada does it,” he thought, wondering if the fish in Mirkwood’s enchanted river were of Gondolin stock.