No one quite knew what to make of it when he showed up.

“Why would I lie about something like this?”

“Perhaps you are one of the servants of Sauron.”

“Sauron?  Wait… Sauron took over after Morgoth was overthrown?  Sauron was practically the worst captain he had.”

“And I am sure you know all of the names of all of Melkor’s officers.”

“Not all of them, no, but a fair amount.”

“Which only proves you to be one of his kind.”

Glorfindel rolled his eyes.  They had been having this conversation for some time now, going back and forth.  He had shown up on the beach, in a small boat from Valinor.  His trip had been uneventful; he had Ulmo to thank for that.  Once he stepped foot upon the shore, things changed.  He was questioned immediately, and the answers did not suit his captors.

Soon he found himself in some sort of prison cell dug into the side of a mountain.  The steel-barred doorway kept his interrogators arrogantly upon the other side, while he stood shaded within.

He could tell, from what he could see around them, that there was some sort of festival or celebration occurring.  There were three now questioning him – it started with the bearded one, who then retrieved another silver-haired ellon.  Shortly after that, a third joined them – he, of them all, wore the finest clothing and looked both anxious and nervous.  It was the one in the middle who did all of the talking; the first one he learned was Cirdan, and he cursed himself silently for having never met the old elf while he had previously had a chance to.

“Just because I have a very good memory does not make me a spy.  Certainly, you are aware of what happens to our kind when we die, and you know that we are able to return,” argued Glorfindel.

“In Valinor, yes,” conceded the Sinda.  “It does not happen here.”

“Why do you think I had to take the boat?!”  Glorfindel shook his head.  “You must not be very wise,” he mumbled as the three stepped away and spoke quietly to one another regarding the situation.  He growled low and paced, restless; the tiger hates to be caged.

“Sorry!” he heard someone unseen call out.  “I meant to be here sooner, but Celebrian caught her veil in a tree, and then we lost her shoes – but we found them, no worries.”  When the she-elf stepped into view, Glorfindel breathed a sigh of relief.  Finally, there was someone he knew – who should remember him.

“Artanis!”  He reached his arm out of the cell and waved to get her attention.  “Artanis, tell these fools who I am!”

“Fools?” the elleth stopped, her eyes wide as soon as she saw who was being held.

The silver-haired beardless one interceded, slapping away the hand that reached out to elleth.  “You shall not speak so informally to my wife!”

“Wife?”  Glorfindel held the bars of his cage and looked at the female who now stood behind the one he disliked more and more.  “You married this idiot?”

“Who is he?” demanded the irate ellon.

For a moment, it looked as if she was about to say his name.  Then, she narrowed her eyes, unseen to all but Glorfindel, and said, “No one I know,” before she turned to leave.

“Oh, come on!  Artanis!  Aratanis!”  Glorfindel started to reach out again, but thought better with the Sinda still glaring at him.  “Artanis, I apologize!  I am sure he is a brilliant and wonderful person when he is not falsely imprisoning people!”

When that did not work, Glorfindel tried again.  “I am sorry… I am upset!  Who would not be, locked up like this without a fair trial?  I can see how… uh… wise, and intelleigent, and… uh, wise, he is.”  This at least made her turn around, and Glorfindel smiled hopefully.  “Please tell them I am not a servant of Morgoth.  It is really creepy in here, Artanis – I think a rat just ran across my foot.”

“Then you should be right at home, Laurefinde.”

That was when Glorfindel realized that she might have still remembered something he probably should not have done earlier in his life.  “Water under the bridge?  Oh, bad choice of words,” he quickly amended when she glared again.  “Look, I am very sorry about that.  It was an unfortunate accident—“

“No one ‘accidentally’ shoves someone off of an iceberg into freezing cold water!”

“I… you are right,” he quickly said as she started to turn away again.  “Absolutely right.  Very pathetic of me to do for a laugh.  On my defense,” he said, more toward the three ellyn who were scrutinizing him, “there were some not-so-complimentary things said about me by you and your cousin just before the incident in question, and we were just off the shore of Middle-earth, where the water was only knee-deep.”

Delicate yet deadly arms were crossed over her chest, and she frowned.  “I recall no such things said.”

“You said I was weird,” accused Glorfindel, crossing his own arms now.

“Oh, that.”  A smirk tugged the corners of her mouth.  “Well, you were the one who said you would gladly serve Maedhros as his pillow.  If that is not a weird comment, I do not know what is.”  She said this last line toward the other three on her side of the bars, and all three now gave Glorfindel a slightly uncomfortable look.

“Can we discuss that later?” urged Glorfindel.  “Right now, I would really like to get out of here, before I have to start pulling centipedes off of my head.”

With a sigh, Artanis waved her hand toward the cell.  “He is no servant of the enemy.  Maybe a little dangerous in his own right, but on our side – I think,” she added as an afterthought.

“Very much so,” insisted Glorfindel.  “I most certainly did not return on a sightseeing trip!”

Once freed, Glorfindel was quickly brought up to speed on the most current events, including the event of the day.  He had just happened to come ashore on the day of the wedding of Lord Elrond of Rivendell and Lady Celebrian of Lothlorien.  The seaside nuptial on the shores of the Grey Havens was one of the most beautiful ceremonies that Glorfindel had seen.  The weather could not have been more perfect, and not a single grain of sand seemed out of place.

He made amends in the receiving line, profusely apologizing to the bride’s parents, and then unexpectedly found himself pledging fealty to the groom and his house.  Although his offer seemed to shock himself most of all, it was gladly accepted. 

The festivities continued into the evening, and though he was a skilled dancer, he begged his way out of the throng only after dancing with the bride.  Soon he found himself engaged in conversation with a number of scholars and historians who had decided to enjoy the event at a table with a drink instead.  The question of the balrog was not the first, but it was the one most eagerly asked.  The story was told; more questions followed.

“It is true, then, that some are winged and some are not,” pressed the youngest and most persistent of the scholars. 

“Aye, it is.  I hewed off the arm of the one I fought on the pass; one of his wings was badly damaged when I did so.  That was what prevented him from being able to fly when he lost his grasp,” explained Glorfindel.

“See, Gildor!” shouted the youthful ellon.  “I told you your book was wrong!”

“Oh, hush, Erestor,” muttered Gildor as he waved a server over for more wine.  “Does it not get tiring, being a know-it-all all of the time?”

“Not particularly,” answered Erestor.  “I find it quite pleasant.”

Glorfindel laughed along with some of the others, and made the decision to keep on the good side of the shrewd young elf.  A tap on his shoulder caught his attention, and he looked up to see Artanis smiling down at him.  “I thought you and I might take a walk and have a little chat,” she said politely.  “That is, if I am not interrupting anything.”

The slayer finished his wine and followed Artanis down to the shore.  For a little while, nothing was said.  When they were far enough not to be heard, she began with, “They call me Galadriel now.”

“So I have noticed.”

“Are you sincere about what you said to Elrond?”

Glorfindel nodded.  “I was not told my purpose when I left, but my training has been entirely in the realm of security and defense.  I am more of a soldier now than I ever was in Gondolin; I do better taking orders than giving them these days.”

“Good.  Elrond has surrounded himself with many of the most brilliant minds of our race, and yet, I doubt most of them know what a sword is.  Oh, they could define it – tell you the etymology, the history, and the chemical composition, but give them one and most would throw out their backs attempting to lift it.”  Galadriel shook her head with disdain.  “Had it not been for Erestor, that realm would have fallen years ago.”

“Wait, the little one?”  Glorfindel grinned.  “Seriously?”

“Do not cross him, or underestimate him.  Thranduil did once, and though I can only guess at the exact details, Elrond counted six broken bones on the good king.  Erestor walked away without a scratch.”  She giggled about this, but Glorfindel gave her a polite yet blank stare.  “Oh… you would not know Thranduil,” she apologized.

“No, I would not.”  Glorfindel smiled.  “I have much to catch up on.”

“Indeed.  Of course, before you move forward, you must deal with your past.”

Glorfindel stopped walking and Galadriel paused beside him.  “What do you mean?”

“This.”  Galadriel suddenly gave him a mighty shove, and as Glorfindel was not prepared for it, he toppled over into the surf just as the tide came in and washed over him.  “Welcome back,” she called out over her shoulder to him as she started to walk back to the party.

“Thanks.”  Spitting out a mouthful of salty water and seaweed, Glorfindel braced himself in the wet sand as a second wave crashed into him, but he was not mad – not at all.  Apparently, Galadriel was not aware of the fact that tigers like to swim.  He sat peacefully in the water, contemplating the future and enjoying the sound of the ocean.  When he saw her reach the others and point at him, he simply lifted his arm and waved as the laughter followed, not wanting to ruin Galadriel’s glee at finally ‘getting him back’.