Found

Mellow Soulmate AU.  Glorfindel has returned to Middle-earth and finds his way back to his lover's side once more.  All Sindarin names used, even for the elves from Valinor (barring Amarië, of course).  This is a story related to "Subtle" and "Notice".  One thing I should mention: Glorfindel is not canonically related to either Finrod or Amarië, but he is related in my head-canon as Elenwë's older brother and thus Amarië's cousin according to "Helping Hand"-verse.  Takes place (at first) on the shores of Belegaer in the Second Age, and then moves to Imladris in the early Third Age.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion or Lord of the Rings

Pairings: Glorfindel x Erestor

Characters: Glorfindel, Finrod, Elrond and Erestor (mentions Amarië, Idril, Gil-Galad, Sauron and the Valar)

Warning: not canon compliant, canon character deaths, mentions war, sappy romantic stuff

Song: Song from a Secret Garden

Words: 1,536
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find (verb): to come upon often accidentally: encounter; to come upon by searching or effort
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/find

The ocean could no longer soothe his restless spirit.  No matter the many long hours he sat and watched the spiraling, foamy depths and listened to the wash of waves crashing upon sand, it could not calm the itch that took up residence in the back of his mind.  The yearning that could not be satiated with good food or a comfortable bed or companionable silence.

Beside him sat his cousin by marriage.  A steady rock of support that had kept him anchored this long on the northern shores.  But no longer.

"Are you sure you cannot stay, cousin?"

It was a question that Glorfindel had been asking himself again and again, but one to which the answer never changed no matter the circumstances.  Certainly, he was content here amongst his close kin and friends, but something was always missing.  Something intrinsic and necessary.

Simple little thoughts--of holding a cool hand entwined in his own and pressing his lips to the soft palm in a gentle caress--haunted his waking hours, but when he reached out to grasp the reaching fingers, it was to only empty air that he was greeted.  Glimpses beneath his closed lids--of soulful dark eyes layered in sorrow, eyes that vanished as early morning mist as his golden lashes parted to let in the sunlight of dawn--flitted through his dreams on a hummingbird's wings.

"Glorfindel... Where are you?"

As much as he loved his comrades and cousins, whom he had been family to since the first Exile, he knew he couldn't stay.  Knew that no amount of propinquity would replace that for which he hopelessly longed.  Knew that he couldn't be happy unless he tried...

"You know I cannot."

And Finrod's smile was both sad and understanding.  He knew what it was to be sundered from that which was dearest to the heart.  Knew the same wistful ache and endless need.  It was not so terribly long ago that he was reunited with Amarië after centuries of being alone.

A hand was laid upon his shoulder, squeezing. "I wish you luck, old friend." And then he was gone.

Glorfindel let out a sigh, for he knew what he must do. Standing, he turned away from the West and the vast expanses of ocean's song, instead facing the east and letting the salt-tinted wind whip across his back and through his hair, pulling him inland as invisible hands upon his spirit.  In that direction lay his future, not languishing here upon the shore with empty hopes and dreams.

And he trusted the Valar to guide him to his goal.  He trusted the stars to light his way once more.  Until he found the missing half that would render him complete in truth.

Then, maybe...

But there was much to be considered and much to be done.  Pushing aside the long list of hopes rendered now impotent phantoms, he made his way back to the small cottage on the beach in which he stayed.  It would take only hours to pack his meager belongings, and then the vanya would set out on foot down the coast until he reached civilization.  Lindon was only a two or three week journey.

He would begin there.  And search.  And if he never rediscovered that which he sought, the ancient elf was certain he would be wandering forever.  Searching.

---

Not forever.  But for a long time. 

Long enough to survive the War of the Ring.  Long enough to survive meeting, face-to-face, the visage of the Lieutenant of Angband once more.  Long enough to encounter Ereinion, the little child in his hazy memories grown into the spitting image of his father--and dead upon the battlefield just the same in a blaze of light.  Long enough to meet and become fond of Elrond, who had the eyes and haughty grace of the King of Gondolin but also Lady Idril's kind-hearted purity. 

They--the healer and the re-embodied elf--had become fast friends, protecting each other's backs on the field of battle for the many long years of strife, and Glorfindel trusted the great-grandson of Turgon with his very existence, of body and of soul.

It was a bond he would never regret forging.

"Return to Imladris with me," the herald had invited when all was said and done. "We would welcome you gratefully amongst our ranks, Lord Glorfindel."

The greater part of his being had wanted to decline what was a most gracious offer of security and kinship.  Certainly, he had helped in the war and grown close to these warriors, become one of their sworn brothers, but even with his duties as a soldier of the Valar complete--for the time being--he had another task which was thus far left unfinished.  A personal task that could not be abandoned or left to rot in forgetfulness.

Yet... yet there was a small spark of something that flickered through his spirit at the words, something eerie.  A little whisper in the back of his mind that told him to accept.  That this was the correct path.

And his instincts had never directed him wrongly thus far.  There was no reason to doubt them now.

Thus he had come to dwell as a member of the House of Elrond in the Valley of Imladris.  The land was breathtaking, even to he who had seen the greatest kingdoms of Beleriand and Valinor in the flesh with his own two eyes.  The gash of the rocky land opened to lush green forests and the distant shimmer of airy white arches and a warm, burnished low of homeliness beneath the rays of the setting sun.  Shattered colors danced through the very air, reflected off the many falls decorating sheer cliffs as they plummeted into the Bruinen as it surged below, and their roaring deaths left behind an evening mist that layered the land in mystery.

Truly, it was a beautiful place.  He could see why Elrond called it home rather than the courtly elegance mixed with radical conservation that defined Lindon.  Where Ereinion's kingdom had been understated and militarized, more a fortress city and house of state than a living space, this was a creation forged for the purpose of luring and enrapturing the senses in comfort.

It was a shame, he thought, that one day he would have to abandon this wondrous place.  For no matter the sweetness and charm of this Valley, it would never be his home, could not replace the fond memories stoking that ever-present longing.  Still he was incomplete, and ever would be until his task was complete and the shards of a broken bond were re-forged in bliss.

But until then, he did what he did best.  He wandered the long, open corridors and gardens and spacious chambers of the Last Homely House.

Wandered straight into the library.

Its massive size and selection had not been exaggerated.  Certainly there were places in Valinor with a larger accumulation of knowledge, but none so interesting or diverse as that which he could see merely from standing in the doorway.  And beyond that, it had an atmosphere of welcome that he found not in any such room in the haughty palaces of his distant royal kin or in the public archives of the scholarly academies prominent in the greater cities of the golden shores.

Perhaps he might even find something of interest.  Surely there must be some work in this collection which would hold his attention and divert it from the constant thoughts of...

"Hello?  Is there something with which I can assist you?"

The figure was half-hidden behind a stack of massive tomes, but he could make out the dark robes draped over a rather short and slender body, accentuating the lithe male form.  His eyes traveled upwards, past the intimidating books of laws and treaties, to the straight falls of dark hair left unadorned and unbraided, spilling over shoulders and pooling on the hard leather book covers.  And then over the high-necked collar of a dark tunic to the pale skin in sharp contrast, almost white against the blackness.  And so smooth to his gaze as it worked over high, elegant cheeks and full lips.

But naught could compare to the moment when he met the eyes--darker than any he had ever seen, pools of shimmering grief veiled with a tempered shield of irritation glowing hot as metal beneath a forge flame.  Beautiful eyes inlaid with the stars.  Familiar eyes.

Eyes that widened with the same shock as burst to life in his chest and stole away any breath he still carried within his lungs.  With the same joy that flooded and overflowed with sudden tears...

They connected, and Glorfindel felt his entire being shudder as everything came together again.  As the other half of a bond ravaged by death suddenly found its missing counterpart and wove tightly back into place, tangled and unraveled ends meshing into perfect harmony once more.

And if neither of them heard the crash of seven thick tomes hitting the hardwood floor, who could have blamed them?

"I think there might be... Erestor..."
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Did I mention that I love this pairing?  Well, I'm going to mention it again.  I love them together.  I know it's a pretty mainstream pairing (as far as slash pairings go in LotR-verse), but it's the very first LotR slash pairing (other than Aragorn/Legolas) that I ever encountered, and I simply can no longer see them being with someone else.  It's just permanently stuck in my head forever and ever.  I blame the Magic Rat on Ex Libris for this.  And Morgana's awesome and adorable romances.

*cough* Anyway, I have not yet tied in this arc with the Ilession arc that I started, but I have a feeling that somewhere the "Second Age" arcs are all going to enmesh themselves the way the First Age arcs have begun to.  Actually, I'm rather looking forward to it, but try not to get ahead of myself.  Rome was, after all, not built in a day.  And I can afford to be patient and get in some sleep now and again LOL.

I chose the Song from a Secret Garden (by Rolf Lovland) for today because of its emotional impact.  I have heard it before (have even watched the movie before a really long time ago--like on a VHS tape long ago), but only rediscovered it today by randomly clicking on YouTube links.  I got from Orochimaru's Theme to here somehow, but don't ask how, because I couldn't tell you how they're even remotely related.  Anyway, absolutely beautiful song even though the melody is very simple.  It reminds me of the memorable melodies you find in Classical era music.

And just for fun, an awesome picture of Glorfindel!  I can't remember if I've linked this one already, but I'm going to again, because it's pretty and I like it: Glorfindel by ~ilxwing on dA.