Glorfindel sighed as he fought another pack of orcs. Times like these made him ache for his parents and grandparents. He slashed and ducked and stabbed and brought his shield up in a pattern he had learned long ago. He knew this fight would go in his favor as it did every single time. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of missing people so deeply, it felt like he was being stabbed. He had been dead not that long ago, he thought as he shield butted an orc. Only three left. Stab, duck, slash of a head, repeat. The last orc lay dead. His thoughts wandered as he cleaned his weapons, making sure his spear was undamaged.
He shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell on his family. He needed to loose the strangers on his tail. He managed to hide in a hidden cave covered with vines and drift to sleep, an elvish scout party with a strange banner finding the remains of the orcs. The banner was blue with silver stars. There was an elf in the group with a circlet. Glorfindel hadn't caught a glimpse of this elf. If he had, perhaps he would not have hidden from them. The elves had been tracking him for a few weeks, worried for the blonde elven male that would disappear before they were too close. They knew he was nearby as the orcs had only been dead for at most twenty minutes and the elven warrior was on foot.
Glorfindel was lost in his memories as he slept. His father and grandfather would be ashamed of him. After everything he had done, he wouldn't be surprised if his family disowned him. Findis had raised a son who worshipped the Valar and had made an oath to them. His father had been angry with him the night he left them without a word, stealing away like a thief in the night. He had felt the choice to leave was the only right one. It had led down a road of heart ache, betrayal, and death. His grandfather had often scolded him for being fearless with sadness in his blue eyes. It was as if Ingwë knew the fate that awaited his Radiant Flower.
Indis, his maternal grandmother, wept when she had spotted him slipping away, understanding in her eyes. Finwë was dead, he would have chained Laure in his room the moment that he had thought his grandson would dare to follow his idiotic cousins. Fëanor had made his weapons so long ago, meant to last forever and they did. His uncle had gone mad. Ingwë, his paternal grandfather, had always been shocked when he found his grandson sitting at the feet of the Valar or making and bringing the Valar flower crowns. Glorfindel had given Findis and Ingwion a heart attack when they couldn't find him. His grandfather learned quickly that if Glorfindel couldn't be found, he was at the Valar's feet or making others smile.
He knew he had made his family sad when he had left. He parents probably never even knew his fate. When he had been reborn, he didn't have time to return to his family. He had been given his armor and his weapons and sent across the ocean to Middle Earth once more, a whispered sorry drifted to him as he watched his homeland drift away. His oath to the Valar had allowed him to be reborn for some purpose. Manwë hadn't told him what it was so he wouldn't know until Manwë revealed it when the time was right.
He had been dead for a long time and he was still trying to get used to being alive again. He didn't wear the mark of his house or the houses of his family. No circlet rested on his head, no long hair to worry about. His hair had dirt in it to mask the glittering gold it once was. A storm had blown in three weeks ago and he had cut it to just below his shoulders in a panic. He was broken, damaged, useless. He didn't speak. He was terrified to be recognized. He wanted peace. He knew he had to find Eirindel's son and help him but he had no desire to be viewed as a hero or a legend as he feared he would be. Something was causing him to become aware of his surroundings.
The elves were approaching his cave. He Sang to have the eyes pass over it. Most of the eyes immediately diverted but he felt one pair never waver. He was able to hide himself enough that when the perceptive one looked into the cave, he could not immediately see Glorfindel. Unfortunately, the perspective one noticed the weapons and Glorfindel's upper armor and over tunic.
"In here! I think the wounded one is still nearby. Split up and search. You were right, Lithum. The elven warrior is a Vanyarian male. Bring me a lit torch so that we can search the cave!" The elven male called out in a language Glorfindel knew not, adding to his wariness. He just hoped that the Noldo didn't ask for a light because his arm bands would immediately draw attention to him. He felt light headed and closed his eyes. He knew his luck had failed him when fire lit the small cave but he was too tired to care. He had hidden in plain sight but they were bound to find him eventually. He let himself drift back to sleep as the two other elves stared at the big elf in shock.