Mila (A Glorfindel Fanfiction)

I can't breathe I can't breathe

Glorfindel and his party made towards Imladris in all haste. The captain commanded his followers to ride for two days without a meal or rest, in hope to make it in time to save the lives of one of their comrades that was sustaining a mortal injury.

They reached Rivendell in the dead of the night, and made straight to the houses of healing.

They made it just in time.

Lord Elrond himself tended after Alathor, whose body was festered with poison from goblin's arrow.

"There is nothing you can do for him right now except to let him rest," Elrond informed.

Glorfindel nodded and turned to his party who was waiting by the entrance of the infirmary, all with concern in their eyes for the life of their comrades. "You heard what Lord Elrond said. You all ought to rest. Eat," Glorfindel said with an impassive expression. "I am going to stay a bit to give my reports."

"I'm not leaving," a voice sounded among them. Rubin came behind the other soldiers, goblin's blood still marred his armor. His eyes were stormy with e mixture of remorse, guilt, anger, worry and determination. "I'm not leaving here until Alathor wakes."

"There's nothing more you can do," Glorfindel said with sympathy.

"He's there fighting for his life because of me. He saved my life," Rubin said with clenched jaw and pain in his eyes, "It is my fault that he lays there right now-"

Glorfindel placed his hands on Rubin's shoulder, stopping Rubin on his speech, "It was not your fault. It was an accident, Rubin." Rubin shook his head in disagreement. "...And if that answer doesn't satisfy you, and you still need to to find someone to blame, it should be me, because I am your captain. I am responsible for all of you," the Golden One stated the last bit as he looked at each of his weary followers, before looking back to Rubin, "Go home."

Stubborn elf that he was, Rubin looked like he was about to argue. Glorfindel lifted his hand to silence him, "It's an order from your commander," he said with finality in his tone.

Despite their worry, the weary soldiers dared not to oppose a direct order from the captain that they respected and trusted with their lives. All six elves bowed their head in unison before leaving the premises.

"You must rest too, Glorfindel. You are exhausted," said Lord Elrond.

"You haven't heard the report I bring," Glorfindel said, while his eyes fleeted towards the unconscious form of Alathor.

"I get the general idea from the way which you came," Elrond said light heartedly, trying to cheer up his weary friend, "Besides..."

Glorfindel watched as Elrond looked at his finger. His eyes caught the sight of Vilya, the ring of power that the lord of Imladris wore all these millennia. Glorfindel reprimanded Elrond.

"I am not supposed to see that ring. No one is," the elf warrior said with an upset look on his expression, "Conceal it from my eyes, Elrond."

"I am reserving the remaining power in the stones. I will no longer use my magic to conceal it. For now, it is safe enough."

Glorfindel looked at his old friend with shock. "Don't tell me..."

"The power of the ring fades rapidly," Elrond told him with a heaviness in his voice, "I am barely able to keep the protection magic along our border in place."

Glorfindel grew even more troubled now. Same thing was happening to Galadriel in Lothlorien. If anything, Lothlorien's situation was a bit more grim that Rivendell, for every now and then, now orcs and evil presence managed to slip past through the realm where Galadriel's magic was at the weakest. And soon, Rivendell would face such a thing as well.