“Explain to me who everyone is,” pleaded Glorfindel in a hushed voice. He stood atop a small hill, watching the small group below who conversed with one another in lyrical voices.

“I shall introduce you,” offered Erestor with a tug on Glorfindel’s sleeve, but the blond elf set his feet firmly and shook his head.

Taking a step back, he looked them over again. “I know your sister,” he said, motioning to the dark-haired ainu with the hop in her step and smile on her face. This was Nielíqui, Erestor’s half-sister and daughter of Oromë and Vána. The rest were foreign to Glorfindel, who had only heard of the Children of the Valar, and never seen any others. In fact, he had begun to believe that of the original powers of Aman, only Oromë had any care to father offspring. This was untrue, but some say seeing is believing. The younger and lesser of the Valar as they might be referred to were also the busier ones. They spent more time across the sea and in the heavens than their parents, who preferred an earthbound existence, which accounted for the absence of some, such as Erinti.

Erestor pointed out the other female of the group. “Meassa, she is the daughter of Mandos and Vairë. She has a twin brother named Makar. They are warriors, silent and unseen while fighting, and have turned the tide of a battle when needed.”

“That seems a little... frightening. Fighting enemies one can not see, can not hear.” Glorfindel took note of the warrior beside Meassa, a powerful looking Ainu. Still, he seemed fairly mirthful, and laughed louder than the rest. “I think I would get along well with him,” he commented.

“That is the son of Tulkas and Nessa. He is Telumehtar, a fighter as well, but one is well aware they are fighting him. I have never seen one so graceful, either, a quality no doubt from his mother,” reasoned Erestor. Coughing slightly and lowering his voice, Erestor added, “He is Meassa’s husband, so I would advise you not stare at his... assets.”

“What of Makar? Where is his wife?” wondered Glorfindel, wandering his eyes away from Telumehtar.

With a sly grin, Erestor turned his head to look at a very dignified looking Ainu with a fana dressed in the most magnificent reds, golds, and blues, basking in the golden sunlight. “I would not ask him or Nornorë that question.”

“Ah. I understand,” answered Glorfindel with a smile of his own. “Nornorë looks like a dreamer... I would wager him to be Irmo’s son.”

“Irmo and Estë, aye, they are proud of him. He is herald to his father, and to any of the other Valar who wish him to be. Of all of the children, he is the calmest, and can calm the others. Even Makar, who has a great temper at times, need only be soothed by Nornorë’s singing, and he is gentle as a lamb.” Erestor nodded in the direction of a Vala sitting alone beneath a tree near to where the others stood and conversed. “That lonely little one- he was the youngest until I was born, I am told.”

“Why is he so sad?” Glorfindel watched as a rabbit hopped into the glade and nuzzled the Ainu’s foot. He smiled, but it was a sad smile, and patted the rabbit’s head.

Shaking his head, Erestor replied, “My dear, he is in love. With my own sister, if you will believe it. He is Fionwë, the son of Manwë and Varda.”

“Has she rejected his advances?” asked Glorfindel, shifting his eyes to his sister-in-law as she giddily pranced over to her cousin Telumehtar and whispered something to him that made him grin.

“What advances?” Erestor practically groaned. “Do you see any advancing going on? He is so very shy, it perplexes. How can one have such cosmic powers, and yet, completely afraid to even tell a lady he thinks she is lovely, let alone kiss her or anything else?”

“Hmm, perhaps- rejection?” he offered as a possibility, thinking of his own attempts.

“Right, but besides that.” Erestor waved a hand at the scene below. “I mean... think about it, who else is she going to end up with?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “Maybe she wants to be like Nienna. No marital attachments.”

“Well... then she is just silly,” mumbled Erestor, and Glorfindel had to laugh at some of the ‘old world’ type views that the dark elf still held.

It was Glorfindel’s laughter that truly alerted everyone below of their presence, though it could be speculated that most of them were well aware of the pair the entire time. Nielíqui took the initiative to wave to them and motion them to join them.

“Before we walk over,” whispered Erestor quickly, “I just think I should remind you, that no matter how they act, keep in mind that they are rather powerful and quite old. In fact, all of them are older than I am, which is, as many have often pointed out, really, really, really old.”

“Alright,” Glorfindel said with only slight hesitation. With the exception of Nielíqui, the blond saw nothing immature about any of them. He and Erestor navigated their way down into the little valley, where he was formally introduced to everyone. Even Fionwë walked over from his spot by the tree to meet the newcomer.

There were a few moments of quiet observation until Meassa asked, “Are you aware of the fact that Glorfindel really is considered a feminine name?”

“Right... well, my father named me Anglorel, which, technically is also a girl’s name, so I suppose I was just always fated for a little gender confusion,” Glorfindel answered.

“Did anyone ever tease you about your name?” wondered Makar.

Glorfindel shrugged and Erestor blushed. “A lot of people did, but I forgave most of them and married one of them, so obviously, I don’t hold a grudge. Except for that balrog- now that, that still riles me.”

There was a collective breath held by the group, let out only when Nornorë said, “You managed to slay an Ainu.”

“Ahm... yes, I guess I did,” he replied. He waited through the silence for what he was beginning to suspect was coming.

“Can you tell us the story of the balrog?” Fionwë made the request, but he spoke for them all.

Glancing over his shoulder at Erestor, Glorfindel regarded the sheepish look he was being given. “Was I just set up?”

“They have asked me for years to bring you to them to tell the story. I... thought you would not mind,” Erestor said with a hopeful smile.

Tugging him just to the side a few feet away, Glorfindel reminded Erestor, “You hate that story.”

“But you love it, and you love telling it.” Erestor crossed his arms. “I have not uttered a word of it to them. Fresh audience, begging to hear your tale.”

“You have a point.” Glorfindel turned back to the Ainur- but did not see them. “What the-“

A pull on the leg of his pants made him look down. “We’wre wready for the stowy now,” he was told by a pint-sized Vala. All six displayed the outward appearance of a small child, eagerly awaiting the story.

Lowering himself down in the grass, Glorfindel waited until Erestor joined the children. Lounging on the grass upon his belly, Erestor rested his chin on his hands with his elbows in the dirt. “You are not going to enjoy it,” scolded Glorfindel at his mate as Erestor pleaded along with the ‘children’ to hear the story.

“I shall pretend I never heard it before,” offered Erestor with a wink.

And so began the ten-thousandth or so retelling of ‘Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer’.