Love Across the Ages

A/N: Yes indeed, not a NC-17!!! Gasp. I know, I am fainting. Are you?
I wish to say heartfelt thanks to ErlineEsq, who advised me on the translations. And also Devaeriel; though this bday fic is for her, she badgered me so much that she received previews of it as it was written and offered her suggestions and corrections in the usage of Tolkien's works and references. Thank you also to Miriel, for her ever helpful pointer as a beta.

Obviously I lay no claim to any references of Tolkien, or his work, and, I have taken liberties with his characters and setting. This fiction itself however, is copyright to me in the production of it and in the development of plot, and my original character.

Translations of Sindarin:
Yrch = "Orcs"
Melathamin = "My Love"
Meleth - "Love"
Melethrilamin - "My Lover"
hervess nin - "My Wife"

Chapter 1

Glorfindel fed the fire more twigs and inhaled the aromatic scent that wafted upward from the herbs that crisped lembas and root vegetables into a culinary delight. He smiled appreciatively and leaned back against the bole of a large cedarwood. He was only several days from Rivendell, and so far he had encountered little trouble. For the moment, the lands surrounding the elvish sanctuary were clear of marauding orcs. He had spotted one or two rangers but had not approached them, as they had seemed bent on errands. He sighed and breathed in the air, feeling with all his senses outward. It seemed peaceful, but Glorfindel was too much the warrior to fully relax, unless he was within the confines of Rivendell, where others might take some of the burden of protection.

He sensed no threat. The food was ready. Lazily, but with the innate grace and beauty of his kind, he moved forward and knelt by the fire, lifting the pan from its bed and placing a folded insulated wrap beneath it. He brought it back to his seat by the tree. Sitting cross-legged, he placed it upon a small, flat topped rock and began to eat. It was a nice change from the dry ration of lembas, Glorfindel had felt unable to have such a fire and meal farther out in the reaches.

He finished his meal quickly, and economically, then placed the pan to the side, to take to the cheery brook nearby to wash. Checking again on his horse, he patted the mare’s white neck with a few murmured words of Elvish and walked around the circumference of his camp checking the surrounds. Just because he was in friendly territory, it did not mean he should dispense with the need for watchfulness.

He returned to the fire and knelt to cover the flames, so that the remaining embers could be brought to life for the morning's meal and then as suddenly paused, his back tense, all senses alert.

By the Valar, there had been NOTHING nearby! And then in that instant he heard a strange pop, coupled with a voice muttering something that did not sound pleasant. It was distorted and to his ear truncated, though truly, when one listened, it was a corrupted form of the language spoken by man.

The voice fell silent and Glorfindel know beyond a doubt that whoever had entered the glen had stopped and seen him. The quality of silence was... he tilted his head, all senses alert… shock and fear. It rolled off the person behind him. His senses picked up the peculiar scent that only a human woman had.

He stood up slowly and spun to face the intruder, wrapping his power around him. He knew he glowed, he made no effort to dampen it. The girl stepped back with a gasp, covering her eyes, but whether it was from seeing him, or the large, purple bruise that seemed to be developing rapidly on the side of her forehead, he did not know.

He sensed bewilderment then, and yet he frowned, surely... why would he sense the feelings of a human?

She was tall for one of their females, almost of elvish height. As she stepped back with her eyes fixed on him, he noted that she moved with the fluid grace of a warrior, one could not mistake such poise, and Glorfindel was a warrior of renown.

He frowned at her and she flinched, then straightened with a show of defiance and tossed her head. Her eyes met his, though the fear in them could not be hidden.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. Her mouth dropped open and she seemed stunned. Glorfindel frowned. "Answer me stranger. What do you do here?"

Joanna was unable to move, not only had she suddenly found herself here, with the beginnings of a thumping headache, but also caught in disbelief, as this stranger's voice wrapped around her. It was light and musical, with a lilt that seemed to mesmerize her, she felt all her defences crumble, to be replaced by a peculiar kind of wonder and peace. If she wanted to be fanciful, it was almost as if she were coming home.

Kind of freaky really. Yet something told her that this was a man to be feared. But then again, only by an enemy. She didn’t think she wanted to be his enemy. She thought that perhaps he would not harm her unless he had good cause.

Man? No not a man. Her breath caught in her throat at the glow that emanated from him. It had to be some sort of chemical, or a trick of the fading light glimmering through the trees. Yet, no man glowed like that. And he was impossibly beautiful, far too beautiful. He had a strong face, with noble lines; a chiselled jaw, straight nose, and his eyes, so blue within blue, that they bored into her with an intensity of life that no human could possibly emulate.

"No. It was not possible."

Her eyes moved to his hair, noting the long gold of it, the sides braided and tucked behind his ears. It would be the envy of any woman, and then her mind registered what her eyes saw as she gazed at his ears.

She could not contain a gasp, definitely NOT a man. She blurted. “An elf! NO!"

"I am glad you know your races." Glorfindel said quietly, with the slightest twist of his lips, which she supposed was humour. He studied her still, his hand on his sword. "What do you do here?" He asked the question again, though slightly gentler in the face of her obvious fear and bewilderment. He was beginning to suspect what may have happened; it was not unheard of, well at least in theory. He had overheard Gandalf and Radagast discussing it during a rare rest in Rivendell. He had paused to listen, and they had invited him to sit with them. A lively discussion had ensued and Gandalf had worn a sly smile, suggesting he knew more than he was disclosing.

"I don’t know." Her face was white. For a moment her eyes crossed, and instinctively Glorfindel leapt forward and caught her as she staggered. His nostrils flared as the contact sent a shockwave though him. It made him uneasy, did she have elvish blood somewhere in her ancestry? It was the only explanation he could think of. But which ancestry? She showed no indication of feeling anything out of the ordinary in his touch. He guided her to a rock where she almost fell rather than sat.

"Where am I?" She asked and rubbed her head again, her eyes clouded with pain.

Again he was rocked by the emotion she exuded, and the question could even have been construed as a statement. She knew, or suspected where she was. By the Valar, what did this mean?

Her clothing was strange, yet she did carry a sword, though it was of an odd make. Long and with a slight curve, with a cylindrical cross guard, which sported dragons, though they were crudely carved. She was dressed in breeches and a strange crossed over shirt, from which he could see another beneath. Perhaps not unusual dress, but the fabric was of a strange weave, and his nose detected scents upon it that were unfamiliar, though they seemed embedded within the fabric, a part of it.

"You are in Middle Earth." He said, watching her closely.

She was silent, staring at him. He was not sure if it was just glazed shock and pain from that large bruise on her temple, or whether she was just stunned by his words. Then her eyes widened in fear and wonder. She swallowed quickly.

"Middle Earth? But… that is just a story." She whispered. "It cannot be possible."

"Perhaps it is." Glorfindel said. He moved to where he had been sitting and took up his pan moving to the little brook nearby and scooping up water. He tipped it over the fire and then raked the ashes to cool. He packed up his gear into the saddlebag, murmuring to his mount with an apology for so little rest. He then turned to the watching woman.

"We will be on our way. I cannot answer your questions m'lady. But I have no doubt Mithrandir may be able to. He resides at Rivendell these last few weeks, and I believe he is still there.

Her mouth dropped open and she looked pale. "Mithrandir? Rivendell?"

"Indeed." Glorfindel looked at her curiously as he held out his hand to her. "You seem to be somewhat familiar with such names?"

"I don’t know. It isn't possible." She said in a small voice and looked at his proffered hand.

"If you will mount my lady, it is still several days travel to Rivendell."

She nodded and took his hand. This time the feeling was stronger and Glorfindel almost flinched, barely stilling such an undisciplined reaction in time. But the woman's eyes flew to his and in that instant, as her eyes met his, the mutual acknowledgement rocked him. But she said nothing, just mounted and Glorfindel mounted behind her, almost reluctantly, for once his calm demeanour shaken.

He brought his arms around her waist and took up the reins. She was warm against him. Despite himself, Glorfindel found himself intrigued by the mystery of this strange woman.

*****************************

Joanna had long passed wonder and gone into shock, moving on automation, she took the man’s… no elf’s! hand as he helped her mount.

He felt real enough though, as his body pressed against hers when he reached for the reins, though she could tell he barely used them, having some other type of affinity for the beautiful animal beneath them. And she could smell a light, spicy scent that carried none of the ripeness of most men she knew. She liked it. She liked him, oh hell, who was she kidding. The ma… elf… she emphasised in her mind, was gorgeous. If this was not a dream, then Tolkien had not done them justice.

She swallowed and some of her fear began to be replaced by anger at this cruel, practical joke.

Tolkien, Middle earth, surely this was an actor and she was in some kind of reality TV show. But it could not be real, definitely not. And well, but, everything looked too real. She had managed to look closely at his ears, there was no way they were latex and glue!

Ok, so no reality TV show then. But in that case, it had to be a dream, that bastard of a fellow trainee knocked her out. Richard was always trying to bully her, he had made it his personal mission to hinder and belittle her since she had turned down his request for a date.

Bastard. God if only she could humiliate him as much as he enjoyed humiliating her. Thing was, he had at least ten years experience on her and he did not hold back, but he only really laid into her if they were alone in the dojo. Joanna had taken to staying later, and training to try to improve her skills. He had found out and this evening, he had turned up with a smirk on his handsome face, but with cold eyes, challenging her to spar with him.

She had refused, but he had come at her anyway and she had been forced to defend herself if she had not wanted several large bruises on her arms and body.

She hated him. And somehow, she ended up here, dreaming. She hoped the bastard was frightened to see her lying still and very pale. Maybe he would be scared if he thought he had killed her. She bet that this elf could give him a hiding though. After all, surely with that glow he was old and... she frowned... it meant he had walked beneath the trees of light. Though she could not remember what they were called. So it meant he was old, because that light had been dimmed in some way. And then she remembered Morgoth had poisoned them.

But it was all just a dream wasn't it? Not real. How the hell had she ended up here? Middle Earth was just a world in the imagination of an old Linguistics Professor right?

She half turned her head towards the elf, absently wondered if she too would glow, being in his sphere of influence. She glanced down at her arm, she didn’t. She looked up at him and he met her eyes with a certain gentle wisdom, the suspicion now dampened.

“What is your name?” She asked.

He smiled then and even if his glow did not touch her, the warmth of his smile did. She held her breath, mesmerised by the beauty and light in his face. She imagined it must be what angels looked like.

“Glorfindel.”

“The Balrog slayer!” Joanna blurted in shock, her eyes wide. She saw the elf stiffen and his eyes harden briefly, looking at her intently.

“How do you know that?”

“I...” Joanna shrank back, feeling a trace of fear but then she straightened. She would show no fear, she was a modern woman, not some medieval damsel. “I read it.”

“Where would you have gotten a copy of our elvish chronicles?”

“I… it’s easily accessible. Anyone can buy the books in a shop.”

“A shop? As in a stall? One of those human market places?”

“Yes.” Joanna said uncertainly. “I.. but not here. Not here.” She finished lamely.

Glorfindel stared down at her in disbelief and a hint of consternation. “Then where m’lady? That such tales should be common knowledge and bandied in books in a market stall?”

“ …I think I am not in my world… This is, in my world, this whole place is a fantasy, it is just words in a book, written by a man called Tolkien."

Glorfindel looked at her and his eyes were troubled though still hard. “Tolkien.” He repeated, sounding out the unfamiliar name. “I do not know.” He finally admitted. “Mayhap Mithrandir will.”

Joanna sighed and rubbed her forehead, feeling her headache grow worse. She must have been knocked out, because it now felt like someone was using her head as an anvil.

She closed her eyes and sighed, creasing her brow in an attempt to erase it.

She gasped as coolness flowed across her brow, the pain melted in the wake of that wave, to then be replaced by a gentle heat that soothed her. She sighed with relief and opened her eyes. For a moment all seemed so much clearer, everything focused, her mind alert. She turned and looked at Glorfindel

"Thank you. I… I didn’t know you were a healer, I had read..." She stopped, realising that she might say something that he would not know. It hit home to her then, how careful she had to be, she didn't even know 'when' she was here, particularly if the tales were true and this was the ancient past.

Glorfindel gave her a sharp, curious look, but merely said. "I am many things m'lady, not only a warrior protector of Rivendell. I doubt that your books captured much information about me. He looked down at her and she was again mesmerised by the light and beauty in his gaze.

Then she dragged her own eyes from his and looked back in the direction they headed. She thought she heard something and the hairs prickled on the back of her neck.

"Glorfindel." She said. She turned to look at him, but she need not have said anything. Glorfindel's body was tense, and the look of alertness on his face, and the flaring of his nostrils, along with the sudden glacial look in his eyes, told her he knew more about the noise than she did.

"Yrch!" He said shortly and drew his sword.

"Fuck." Joanna swore and fumbled with hers, unfamiliar with drawing it on a horse.

"What is a fuck?"

"Ahh never mind." Joanna said and blushed. "I can't fight on horseback."

"They are bigger and stronger than you, I cannot let you down."

"Then I think you had better whisper to your horse and get the hell out of here."

He didn't waste any further words but urged the mare into blurred speed. Joanna squeaked and clutched hard onto the pommel, knowing but still not expecting the burst of speed from an elf steed.

"They can travel only at night." He called in her ear as he pressed her low against the saddle, his body shielding hers. She was acutely conscious of his presence. How did he speak so clearly when she could barely hear or see anything aside from a rush of wind like a tornado in her ears, and the blurring of landscape as it passed beneath the silver hooves of his mare? Yet each of his words was crystal clear, almost like a picture in her mind.

She shook her head and closed her eyes, feeling almost nauseous from the speed of their flight. "How long can she sustain this?" She asked faintly, sure he would not be able to hear her over the roar of their passage.

"We can get enough speed to make time. But I have contacted Rivendell."

How? Then she stopped the word that formed. Of course, he was a high elf, a Noldar. He was strong and he had foresight.

"We have the gift of mindspeech. I have been in contact with them the last week." He said.

Joanna was rocked. She had not spoken her thought aloud. Yet, such an inward exclamation must have communicated itself to Glorfindel. For she felt him suck in his breath sharply, and murmur a word in strange tongue, his voice filled with wonder. He urged the horse faster in a language that was music to her ears and was obviously of the same speech as that single word he had uttered.

"Sindarin." She thought, "But oh god, it's beautiful and also, strangely familiar." Those who spoke it in the movies, though it was lovely, could not have possibly portrayed the true exquisiteness of the language, for they did not have the voice of an elf, this elf.

She closed her eyes then and swallowed, feeling her stomach jolt, the mare had not let up. She stilled the bile that rose in her throat. But, a subtle release of tension in his body above her told her that they had, for the moment, outrun their hunters. The horse slowed and Joanna sucked in a deep breath, gasping for air.

She felt Glorfindel straighten and followed suit. They were still cantering, but the edge of speed was now gone.

"We made many miles m'lady." Glorfindel said, his voice quiet. "Soon we shall be joined with my kindred, they await us only a few miles along."

Joanna nodded and closed her eyes, willing her pulse to quieten.

"May I have your name?" Glorfindel asked again, politely. She looked at him. Was that humour she heard in his voice?

"Joanna."

"Jehanna.' Glorfindel said the name and Joanna shivered, liking the way her name sounded on his lips. He pronounced it with a soft J and a silent h, which added a unique, sylphlike quality to it. She did not correct his pronunciation. Maybe she would adopt it when she returned… if she returned. If she even could.

It was then that she realised she had trashed the idea of this being a dream. It was all too real even down to the returning throbbing of her headache, her parched throat and the rapid jerking of her heart as her pulse pounded in a combination of fear and excitement. And she was conscious that he would smell her sweat of fear and exertion. After all, she had been training before she found herself here. It must offend this beautiful being that sat behind her, she did not even think he could sweat. Certainly she detected no scent from him to indicate thus.

Finally her heart slowed and it was then, as the adrenalin drained from her, that she felt her eyelids drooping in sudden weariness. She leaned back and rested her head against Glorfindel's chest. He didn't move at her action and eventually as the horse continued to move smoothly, lulling her, she could not help her eyes closing as she fell into an exhausted sleep.

*******************************

It was the sound of angels' voices that woke Joanna from a deep slumber. Night covered the glen upon which she lay, the stars winked through the leaves of the trees that surrounded them. She was pillowed on a soft bed of grass, and the music was sweeping through her nerves, soothing, and joyful, and full of a magic that no human could possibly vocalise.

She stretched and opened her eyes, she felt refreshed and her headache completely gone, in fact she felt more alert than she had for weeks.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, and then they widened at the sight of so many beautiful beings gathered together. It made her eyes water at the beauty. They were dancing, and their voices were light. She could smell food, its delectable scent making her aware of how hungry she was.

Then Glorfindel was in front of her and she gaped. He had changed. He no longer wore the muted forest colours of hunting dress; instead he was garbed in a beautiful white tunic, threaded with silver embroidery. His hair was combed smooth, and braided along the sides and he was… well, she could not describe the way his eyes made her knees go weak. And that glow, it haloed him, emphasising the planes of his jaw, shadowed his high cheekbones. His brow could only be called noble, and he had full lips, that were firm, yet they were curved in a beautiful smile. He looked more relaxed, and lighter somehow, less grim. She swallowed and then she noticed that he carried her food upon a plate, balanced in one hand, and over his other arm a length of silver grey material. She looked at it and then at him with a quizzical gaze.

"You are hungry. And I also brought you a change of clothes." He placed the plate down upon a nearby flat rock and then held out the cloth; it was a long dress, stunning in its flowing folds. She looked at it dubiously.

"But it is a dress."

"Yes. It is." Glorfindel cocked his head looking at her quizzically.

"I can't travel in a dress. It's impractical."

"We are on the outskirts of Rivendell. And it is customary for elvish women to wear dresses in our city."

Joanna felt irritation then. Maybe it was another world, but she was not some subservient woman only here to look pretty, even if what he held made her long to touch it and feel its softness on her skin.

"I am not an elf." She stated flatly. "And where I come from, women can wear what they like."

"It is customary." Glorfindel said firmly.

"Why not give me hunting garb instead?"

Glorfindel's brow creased in puzzlement as he said, "But forgive me milady, it has been my experience that most people would like to appear before the Master of Rivendell in presentable clothes. After all, have I not changed?"

"Yes you have, but you are wearing a tunic. Not a stupid dress." Joanna said and folded her arms scowling.

Glorfindel was at a loss, and it was assuagement to Joanna's ego that she had succeeded in flustering this immaculate and perfect being.

"Then if that is your wish so be it. You are welcome to present yourself in the clothes you wear."

He bowed to her and turned, walking away with the dress draped over his arm.

Joanna watched him go with chagrin. She was beginning to regret her stubbornness, even at the point where he walked away. She felt filthy. She looked at the food and sighed, the smells were too much, and she grabbed the plate and began to eat quickly. The food tasted even better than it smelt and she had to stop, despite her hunger to savour the complex flavours.

They certainly knew how to prepare travel food. She was surprised to see herself finished, but she felt satisfyingly full. She looked around, there was no sign of Glorfindel. And, as she watched the dancing elves, and listened to the music, and looked upon the beauty of their faces, including the graceful figures of some women in dresses, she regretted not accepting Glorfindel's offer of clothing. Anything would be preferable to the uncomfortably hot and sticky clothing she now wore. She shifted and tucked her feet under her, feeling her irritation grow. How rude. He should have known it had just been stubborn pride. Why didn’t he insist? She felt herself growing more and more angry. Typical. Even a male elf acted the same as a human male. Completely oblivious to what a girl wanted. He should have known that if he had pressed harder she would have caved in and taken the dress. Really, he was as fallible as a human male, despite his Ken doll looks. Damn the blond bimbo of an elf, how dare he look so elegant, calm and cool, when she felt like a grubby street urchin, with a dirty face, messy hair and clothes that fairly reeked of day old sweat?

Yet still she felt a stubborn embarrassment and pride that she should have to call him back. She bit her lip, furious as she stewed in a quandary of her own making.

Damn blond bimbo! Gah! Lost in her thoughts she didn’t register his return until she saw a shadow move away from the corner of her eye. She turned and then saw a folded pile of cloth beside her. It was the grey dress.

Damn, he moved softly. She gritted her teeth but this time swallowed her pride and looked around for somewhere where she could wash and change into the dratted dress. Besides she supposed, even if she would look like a horse clodhopping in finery too delicate for her, at least she would be clean and semi presentable, and she was woman enough that she wanted to look halfway decent in a strange city, or rather make that a strange world.

She knew deep down, that this was not a dream. It was for real, and it was a terrifying thought that had her emotions spiralling in a panic.

She looked up startled as a musical voice laughed softly. "Come Jehanna, I will take you to the lake where you might bathe in private."

Joanna met the deep blue gaze of an elvish woman. The pure, delicate beauty of the lady struck her. She blinked. Good lord, how could she possibly compare to people such as these? She felt even more the clumsy outsider as she stood awkwardly, clutching the dress to her and followed the elf. The woman moved silently, her feet seemed to barely touch the ground. Joanna heard her own feet breaking twigs and winced with each loud sound.

Joanna was a confident, modern woman. But next to this elf, she felt as if she were a child, following an elder. And it was not the best feeling in the world.

They emerged upon a grassy bank, which was screened by trees and falling vines. The elf stopped and turned to her. "Here you may bathe in perfect safety. We have elvish guards posted nearby, but none will intrude upon you."

Joanna nodded gratefully and smiled. The elf returned her smile and walked away disappearing back the way they had come with a deft quietness that made it seem as if she simply disappeared. Joanna turned and contemplated the water. It was going to be freezing, but she shrugged and started undressing. Cold was preferable to how she was feeling right now.

She plunged into the water biting back a cry at the coldness of it, but gritted her teeth and moved out to the deeper part, moving quickly till she adjusted. Then she started to rub herself hard, removing all trace of grime and sweat. With a grunted gasp at the shock of cold water she dunked her head, rinsing her hair vigorously.

When she emerged she shivered in the cool air, but she realised that whilst she had bathed, they must have come and placed towels next to the dress. She looked around quickly then dashed out the water and ran to the pile. Quickly she unfolded it and wrapped it around her, rubbing briskly, and then donned the gown. She looked around for her clothes, but found that they had disappeared. She scowled and then stood, irresolute. What now? She didn’t think she could find her way back.

There was movement and then her blond rescuer emerged. "I have come to escort you back to our camp. We ride at dawn. The sun rises even now."

She looked at him suspiciously. Was his face slightly pink? She didn’t think elves blushed. It had to be the light.

"I am ready." She said and stopped. He was staring at her, and there was an odd light in his eyes. "What?" She snapped, then bit her lip as he just raised an eyebrow at her tone.

"You look beautiful in that gown."

She flushed, not expecting the compliment and her fingers clutched the dress. "Too fine for me. I couldn't possibly compare to those women." She waved her hand in the general direction of where she thought the camp might be. "I am not good in dresses, I trip over the hems all the time, and well…"

She faltered as she looked at his eyes and flushed again. He shook his head. "You look beautiful Jehanna. Why not accept such praise? Shall we head back my lady? We have a horse for you of course. You will no longer have to ride with me."

She didn't know what the sharp stab was that filled her. Was it disappointment? Her emotions rioted in a medley of contradictions. There was something about this elf that threw her composure completely out the window, making her resemble a gauche, clumsy imbecile.

Conversely, she began to grow irritated at the being beside her. It just wasn't fair. It was his fault, why did he have to be so perfect?

"Good. I hated being a burden for your mount."

"You were no burden." His voice was amused.

She looked at him sharply, feeling as if he was laughing at her. "Is something funny Glorfindel?"

"Not at all Jehanna. I look forward to you arriving in Rivendell."

Joanna frowned and chewed her lip, not sure what to make of that statement.

The horse they brought for her took her breath away. She was a beautiful bay mare and she seemed to instantly take to Joanna, butting her muzzle against her and snuffling in her hair. Joanna giggled at the tickle along her neck.

"Her name is Vanya Aini, it means beautiful spirit."

"And she is beautiful!" Joanna sighed and stroked her velvet neck. The mare's mane was like silk, its inky black hair slid across her skin.

"If you will mount my lady. Do you need help?"

"No." Joanna said firmly and mounted smoothly, despite the dress. It wasn't as impractical as she had thought, though it hung in elegant folds, it was split in the middle into voluminous pants that allowed her to sit astride as saddle. She settled into it and looked at Glorfindel. "I am ready."

He smiled at her, and the cavalcade trooped off.