Wildest Storms | Love of Royals: Book III

IX: Your Strength

Glorfindel and I find plenty of time to converse over the next few days, and much of it is unfortunately interrupted—or at least observed—by Alëaren, Telamír, or both. It is usually just Tel, but even his quiet and typically unproblematic cousin seems to be finding opportunities to irk me recently.

Right now is the first time in days that Glorfindel and I aren't riding alongside one another, and the first time he has struck up conversation with someone other than myself.  He's riding a little ahead of me while animatedly reminiscing with Fírion about some comical memory they have of Imladris—something involving Erestor, a fountain, and a large plant pot.

Meanwhile, Fíria and Tauriel are conversing ahead of them.  Telamír's in his own little world as he trails behind Alëaren and myself, likely thinking about his Silvan sweetheart Eirwen, utterly oblivious to the beauty of the rolling landscape of the kingdom of Rohan through which we're passing—and have been passing for days.  Even I must admit, it's started to all look the same, but word is that we're nearing Rohan's northern border and will be back in Elven lands again soon.

Alëaren notices me watching the back of Glorfindel's head, and I catch her smiling to herself.

'What?' I say innocently.

'Nothing.' She tries to dismiss me, but the hints of a smile still linger on her lips.

'How are you finding travelling with the esteemed hero of our childhood bedtime stories?' I ask her.

She gives me a knowing look. 'I should ask you the same question.'

'I asked first.'

She glances at Glorfindel, who says something that makes Fírion burst into laughter.  'Well, it's interesting,' she replies, 'he seems almost disconnected from his past. His real past, I mean.  Before the rebirth.  It's almost like he's... lost.'

'You think so?'

She nods thoughtfully. 'I do. How powerful do you suppose he must be, seeing as he was forbidden from joining the Fellowship?  I would have thought the Valar gifted him with powers as great as my mother and uncle, if not greater, yet... yet he's shown no sign of using any magic.'

Perhaps not to you, I think to myself. For Glorfindel's magic hasn't left me alone since he arrived. It's as though he knows full well that only I possess powers great and sensitive enough to notice what he's doing, and he's seeing how long I go without mentioning it.

'Nor have any of us, really,' I say truthfully. 'There just hasn't been any need for magic so far. All we're doing is riding.'

Telamír rides into the corner of my vision. 'Strange to see you actually talking to someone other than Lord Flower,' he comments dryly.

'Drop it, Tel. He might hear you.'

He throws a hand up to his chest in mock horror. 'My Valar, did you just speak to me? For the first time in days? I feel so honoured. Most of the time, it's like Lëa and I just don't exist.'

I look away quickly. 'What do you mean?' 

'I mean,' Tel drawls, 'you and Glorfindel can't take your eyes off each other. It's as though you're the only two people in this entire world.'

'You both look at each other when the other's not looking,' Alëaren says quietly.

I shoot her a glare as if to say, not you, too.

Tel presses on, 'And don't even get me started on those times you gaze into each other's eyes like some lovesick—'

'Tel!' I hiss, 'he's right over there!'