#asfaloth

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The surprise? A colt.

Your friend Gwendel of Rohan had written to you urgently, detailing how he’d stumbled across the abandoned creature during an evening stroll. Despite his best efforts to find the mare or its owner, no one came forward.

Some had tried to claim the colt, but its fiery temper rejected them all, even Gwendel, whose every act of kindness had been met with resistance. Worse still, the colt refused to eat, its health deteriorating rapidly.

Normally, such an errand would have fallen to Elladan or Elrohir, but Gwendel’s letter stirred something within you.

Glorfindel.

Your beloved had never fully accepted another horse after losing his steed in the First Age. Asfaloth’s absence haunted him, and though his rebirth had brought him back to Middle-earth, his companion’s loss weighed heavy on his heart. Glorfindel grieved for Asfaloth as a father might for a lost child.

Gwendel’s letter had to be a sign. A colt abandoned in the world might find the love it needed in Glorfindel and perhaps offer him some solace in return.

That was your plan.

Until you reached Rohan.

The frail creature that greeted you from the corner of Gwendel’s stable wasn’t just any colt.

It was Asfaloth.

The beautiful snow-white steed that Glorfindel still mourned stood trembling in his stall. The colt’s amber eyes fixed on you, brimming with a light of recognition.

And then, as if time and space had never separated you, he stumbled toward you on wobbly legs, butting his head against your leg.

“Asfaloth,” you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes as your fingers tangled in his soft mane. “It’s truly you.” Bending down, you kissed the top of his head, your heart soaring with love and joy.

You couldn’t wait to tell Glorfindel. He would be over the moon.

That was the plan.

Until the mountain dumped its snows onto Rohan, trapping you there.

From weeks to months, your surprise turned into an adventure, long surpassing Glorfindel’s begetting day. The snow had made travel impossible, and you could only hope that the eventual reunion with Asfaloth would soothe any ire Glorfindel might feel at your absence.

Nestled beside Asfaloth in the stable, you braided his soft mane. His health had improved greatly, thanks to Gwendel’s care and thanks to Asfaloth finally allowing himself to eat.

“Oh dear, I hope Glorfindel isn’t moping in the halls of Imladris,” you mused aloud, to which Asfaloth unhelpfully shook his head, undoing the braids you had just finished.

“I know you miss him,” you sighed, feeding him a carrot. “But you have to be patient. You’re still too young to travel in winter.”

But Asfaloth had other plans.

Without warning, he stood and dashed out of the stable, hooves crunching over the snow. You ran after him, calling his name as the rest of the stable looked on in chaos.

And then he heard it—the sound of bells.

It was the bells he had heard first. The delicate tinkling of your bracelets, clear and familiar, ringing through the snow-covered valley.

Glorfindel had found you.

It had been months since you left, and while the logical choice might have been to wait for your return, Glorfindel’s patience had faltered. At the first clearing of snow, he had set out from Rivendell. If you were in Rohan, he would spend the winter with you.

And there you were, your laughter and bells filling the air.

But as his gaze shifted, his knees nearly buckled.

Standing before him was a colt. A tiny, beautiful Asfaloth neighing in excited greeting. Bells wrapped around the colt’s neck jingled with every delighted prance as Glorfindel knelt to hug his long-lost friend.

“You followed me once again?” Glorfindel whispered, his voice trembling as he knelt before the colt, his arms encircling Asfaloth.

The small steed, now nestled against his chest, let out a soft, contented whinny as Glorfindel buried his face in Asfaloth’s snowy mane.

The bells tied to the colt’s neck jingled faintly with the movement, their merry sound mingling with the shallow breaths of a warrior brought to his knees by the return of his oldest friend.

“You found me,” Glorfindel murmured, his voice breaking as his hand trailed down the colt’s neck. “Even after all this time… you found me.”

Behind Asfaloth, your bracelets jingled similar to Asfaloth's as you ran to meet him. The sight of you and Asfaloth together filled Glorfindel’s heart with a joy he hadn’t felt in ages.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” Glorfindel whispered. His tears fell freely now, vanishing into Asfaloth’s pristine coat. “But you followed me, as you always have.”

Smiling through the tears shining in his eyes, he cradled Asfaloth closer, his hand stroking the colt’s mane. When you reached him, arms wide, Glorfindel rose to meet you, his golden hair catching the sunlight as you embraced.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. “You brought him back to me.”

“In the wake of your begetting day, I fear my present was delayed,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “But it seems you found him by yourself.”

“There is no celebration without you,” he replied, his hand lifting to caress your cheek, flushed from the cold and his nearness. “This is the best present of all. I shall be forever grateful.”

Before either of you could say more, Asfaloth squirmed between you, nudging Glorfindel insistently with his head and making his annoyance at being ignored well-known.

Glorfindel’s hand trembled as he stroked Asfaloth’s mane, his touch gentle yet desperate, as though afraid the colt might vanish if he let go.

“You’re my dearest friend,” he said to the colt, his words cracking under the weight of his emotions. “My brave Asfaloth. You’ve returned to me, and I will never let you go again.”

The colt nickered in response, leaning into Glorfindel’s touch.

Months later ~

Chuckling, Glorfindel reached into his satchel for yet another apple, discreetly feeding it to the colt. “What’s with the bells?” he asked, as though to distract you from his indulgence.

Surrounded by the fresh blooms of spring, you laughed, watching Asfaloth now a lively yearling attempt to stomp on an irritating bee buzzing too close to his hooves.

The memory of his infancy in Rohan came rushing back. The trembling colt, spooked by every shadow and sound, fleeing in a desperate, mad dash.

Whatever sorrow had clung to him, whatever shadow had haunted his young heart, had left him terrified and alone, wandering the dark woods.

The bells had been your idea.

You started small, looping one around his neck, letting it chime softly with every step he took.

The sound startled him at first, but soon, the gentle, repetitive ringing became a companion to his movements. A constant he could rely on.

With time, you tied more bells to his halter and to the saddle as he grew. You ran with him, letting the bells ring in harmony with your laughter, teaching him to associate their sound not with fear but with joy and safety.

The bells became a lullaby of sorts, drowning out the forest and glum world that once weighed on him and masking the harsher sounds of the dark he’d feared.

He stopped flinching at every rustling leaf or snapping twig. Step by step, he grew braver, the chiming bells now a comforting melody that guided him toward home.

But such tales were not to be shared with Glorfindel. This lifetime did not deserve such sorrow.

Instead, you smiled, shaking your wrist so the bells on it chimed in harmony with Asfaloth’s. The colt perked up at the familiar sound, his ears twitching as he trotted closer to nuzzle you.

“He’s such a pretty boy,” you said, stroking Asfaloth’s snowy coat with unabashed fondness. “We just wished to match our beauty.”

Glorfindel laughed, a sound rich and bright, as he slipped an arm around your waist. He tilted his head, gazing at you and Asfaloth with a softness that made your heart flutter.

“You’re both too beautiful for me to bear,” he teased gently, resting his forehead briefly against yours. “How is a simple elf supposed to compete with this?”

You chuckled, the bells jingling again as Asfaloth nudged between you both. Glorfindel turned his attention back to the colt, scratching him behind the ears. “It suits you both perfectly,” he added with a fond smile.

And so it was that Asfaloth, the steed who would one day carry the Ringbearer to Imladris, came to bear the sweet sound of bells

Asfaloth wandered, searching for his master.

He was smaller now, his once-proud form reduced to something frail and unfamiliar. The world seemed vast, darker than he remembered, and far more unkind.

He searched the forests, retracing the steps of his past, the places where he had once woken as a youngling. He had expected to find his master nearby, but the only thing that greeted him was the haunting echo of a distant horn. Startled, he had bolted, fear carrying him into the depths of the unknown.

For weeks, he roamed, driven by a desperate need to find the hidden city, the glimmering sanctuary where his lord resided. His heart clenched with unease at every shadow. When the forest buzzed with life, he would whine softly for his master, unable to keep the yearning at bay. But in the eerie silence of the darker woods, he dared not make a sound, fearful of what might lurk there.

His search came to a halt when he encountered a human.

The man had found him and, against Asfaloth’s will, led him away from his wandering. The human’s presence was strange and unwelcome, but Asfaloth was weary.

His strength had been diminished in this fragile form, and fear gnawed at him, keeping him tethered to the company of the human’s herd.

But he would not forget.

No matter how much time passed, no matter how many comforting gestures the mares or the other humans offered, Asfaloth could not accept their touch. His soul burned with loyalty, and he refused to bow to the men who came to claim him.

He fought them off, biting and rearing. He ran from the mares who tried to soothe him with soft nuzzles. Only one was worthy of that closeness. His master.

And yet, exhaustion wore him down.

One cold morning, the frost nipping at his bones, Asfaloth felt hands combing gently through his mane. Too weary to resist, too tired to keep fighting, he leaned into the touch.

It was warm.

For a moment, he allowed himself to succumb to the comfort, to let go of the ever-present ache in his heart. He had grown so cold, so terribly cold. And he missed his master with every fiber of his being.

Then, a soft sound stilled him. The faint, familiar chime of bells.

He froze, his breath hitching as a scent drifted into his senses, sweet and unmistakable. His heart surged as the scent enveloped him, filling him with a bittersweet hope.

It wasn’t his lord.

But it was you.

You, the one dearest to his master. The companion who had been his lord’s closest friend. The bringer of treats, the gentle presence he had trusted so deeply in the past.

At once, the cold vanished from his heart.

For Asfaloth knew.