At the Mercy of a Burning Coal

Disclaimer; The usual one applies. How many of you don’t know the usual disclaimer? Raise a hand…
Note: This is short, I know. But it will become vital in the future…*hint*

Lathwen walked down the halls as if in a trance. She hadn’t realized so much was tied in to her parent’s death. The curse…the elves…her immortality…too much to handle and think about at the present time. She had to escape…she had to think of nothing until she felt ready to deal with all of the facts.

Taking a sharp, sudden turn, Lathwen veered into the healing ward, aimlessly wandering the halls. She winced as she heard a sudden shouting match ensue between a patient and a healer.

“You’ll stay as long as I tell you to stay!”
“But I’m fine! I can walk, its not as if I have a broken leg! It’s a gash for Valar’s sake!”
“You will not leave until you have my permission! You still need to be inspected! I will send for the guards if need be!”
“AAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!”

Lathwen raised her eyebrows…she had never heard an elf shout like that before…dear Valar…now was obviously a bad time…

Just as she was turning around, she heard a door open and slam shut. In a matter of seconds, a tall willowy male elf was standing in front of her, a look of relief and annoyance on his face. “You. Lady Lathwen…you’ve been heard to have a strong will. You can help me.”

He grabbed her upper arm and marched her down a long hallway ignoring her protests. “What?” Lathwen asked as they stopped in front of a door. The elf turned to her, “Can you help my patient stay here until I return? Thank you, I most appreciate it.”

He opened the door and Lathwen reluctantly walked in. “But I—” Lathwen started, but the door was closed swiftly with a click. She sighed heavily and turned to face the patient.

The room had a bed underneath a wide window, which you could see the gardens from. There was a bookcase and shelves on the opposite wall. Other than that, the room was absolutely plain.

Lathwen examined the back of the occupant, considering he was facing away from her. His golden hair shimmered. “Do not think that you will be able to convince me.” The patient said in a short-tempered voice.

Lathwen rolled her eyes and folded her arms, “How about a knife to the throat? That’s worked the other times.” The patient turned to face her in confusion, “Other times…”

Lathwen cursed under her breath as she saw whom the patient was. Want to take a wild guess as to who it was? Yes, it was Glorfindel.

“Of course,” He said in a flat dangerous tone, “I should have realized whom this was considering the knife comment.” He rudely turned away again, folding his arms. Lathwen sighed, “We cannot go on like this forever, Lord Glorfindel.”
“Says who? And its ‘Glorfindel’ forget the lord.”
“I say.”
“You word hardly counts mortal.”

Lathwen smiled sweetly, “Mortal?” Glorfindel snapped, “Yes, mortal. That’s what you are, aren’t you?” Lathwen heaved an innocent sigh and said, “So I thought.” Glorfindel whirled around, eyes narrowed.

Lathwen grinned, “In a matter of days I’ve found out my true heritage. My mother was an Imladris elf.” Glorfindel’s blue eyes widened.

Lathwen continued, “And of course, I’ve just found out only a few minutes ago how my parents were murdered. Yes, murdered. They were cursed by an elf…or elves.”

Glorfindel frowned, “Lathwen, I didn’t—” Lathwen glared at him, “Yes, I know you weren’t involved! I wasn’t implying that was I?!” Glorfindel shrugged, “It’s something you would do.”

Lathwen’s eyes blazed with a hot white fire. Her lips rose above her teeth in a feral snarl.

“Elves.” She said, voice dripping with distain, “I always pitied them. Especially you. You hold nothing but scorn and pity for humans because of their short lives. I lived as a human…was a human, but then again, I was always an elf. However, I will always consider myself mortal…so I will not condone anymore insults pertaining to my race, understand?”

“That had nothing to do with—”

“Quiet! ‘Mortal’ said in such a manner as you used it is considered an insult to me! You elves laugh and sigh at us weak pitiful mortals. Do you see all we have created? Do you see all of the power we have? Mortals are changing this world Lord Glorfindel! Are you so blinded by your races banal view of us that you cannot see how we really are?”

Glorfindel glared at her, “I do not judge as do others of my kin. I do not insult and I do not view you in a stereotypical manner. Your anger is fueled by frustration at your own life…it has nothing to do with me.”

Lathwen stalked up to him and said, “Oh yes it does! What do you call the interesting greeting I received from your mouth if not an insult? You view us mortals as a pathetic race, and you pity our mistakes. You pity our very beings. That is your view. Would you like to know mine?”

Glorfindel’s face was cold and as unforgiving as steel, “Please…I’m dying to know.” Lathwen blinked, that was as close to sarcasm as she’d ever heard him. When had he learned that? He was in her company much to often it seemed…

“I view elves as a waning race. You are fading, diminishing in number. I pity your fate. Yet, you still carry on about us mortals being weak instead of worrying about your own kind. Speaking of fate…your kind is diminishing because they cross the seas to Valinor. Why have you not gone also? Why do you stay?”

Glorfindel’s face closed, “That is personal.” Lathwen frowned, “I realize that. But do you realize what you’re doing by staying here? You’re condemning yourself to death. If you do not sail, you do not live. You’ve made your choice haven’t you?”

Glorfindel barked, “I stay to avenge those whose death’s were wrongful and wanton! I stay to make up for those who chose to leave!”
“If you stay…you die.”
“I still may sail.”
“But in a while it won’t matter. Even if you sail, you will die. I see the black darkness that consumes your soul. Sorrow, guilt, pain, regret. You stay to rid yourself of those feelings. It will not work. I will say to you once again…you are condemning yourself.”
“I still have a choice.”
“What is the answer?”

Glorfindel was silent and didn’t meet her gaze; his bright blue eyes were now made of ice, and his face of marble. Lathwen knew his answer. “You choose to die.”

She said softly and walked out of the room, holding back the tears that threatened to surface. Fate was cruel…but to make such a choice for nothing but revenge was not fate…it was something she couldn’t understand.