#elesheir

   growing up with elves undoubtedly would have ruined the young heir, if not had been for elrond’s steady hand. true, second and third age elves were solemn creatures, worn down by the strifes of war and mortality, but they did not disregard all of their heritage, and their spirits were still youthful at heart. and that kind of influence on young estel, well, it would not have made him a proper king.

   glorfindel understood that completely, which is why when elrond makes the decision to tell the man on his twentieth birthday, he nods along and pretends that a little piece of him is not shattering.

   he knows the weight that is lordship. even more he knows the weight that now rests on their young charge’s shoulders. to be heir to that kind of throne… an exile… glorfindel knows this will make or break young aragorn. 

   weeks, months, they pass like they always do to him and his kind, quickly. the seasons, they come quietly, easing in and out of cycles. life goes on, even after the heir makes his decision and leaves. and glorfindel wonders at the fate of this new world and it’s fated king.

   and then, the spring festivities come. 

   nost-na-lothion is not celebrated as he remembers it being, times have changed and gondolin is but a tale for most of the elves still in middle-earth, but there are flowers and drinks and joy in imladris, and he takes what he can get.

   flower crowns are worn, drinks are had, and it is in the middle of the night by the time he realizes that rangers that had come to imladris in the midst of the festivities, and they are being lead by a chief, their chief. 

   aragorn has returned to rivendell. on his shoulders lays wisdom not given to him by the elves, a solemness he sees every day in his people. but there is joy in his eyes, and a smile curling his lips, and glorfindel is glad to see him whole, glad to see the babe that had once driven them all near mad with worry, has grown into a man.

   it is then, with drunken mock-but well meant-politeness, that glorfindel dips into a bow to the young heir, his grin bright and merry when he stands. and aragorn, the heir to the kingdom of all men, a distant kin to his long lost king, blows him a kiss in equal drunken jest.

   glorfindel gasps like a fair maiden and clutches his heart, crumbling near to the floor. (near because hravanis is standing behind him, and she catches him. and then promptly drops him onto the floor with a look of long suffering in her eyes.)