Glorfindel recognized the swords. How could he not? He had been there, after all, when Turgon had first received Glamdring; he had been there when Orcrist had been forged. The Goblin-cleaver and the Foe-hammer were both now-famous blades, blades that had been thought to be forever lost. The tale about finding them in a Troll-hoard was incredible: lost for close to six thousand years, then turning up most unexpectedly. It seemed an odd chance of fate.

But Glorfindel knew better. It would seem that Glamdring and Orcrist were meant to be found by this unlikely group of heroes. And the Elf-lord believed he knew why. The destruction of Dale and Erebor had reminded him sharply of the fall of his own beloved Gondolin. Death unlooked for from the North upon cities at peace, fair and prosperous. The screams of men, women, and children as they were caught in fire the warriors could not defeat. The sickening smell of charred death. Glorfindel had no problems in imagining exactly what it had been like for those of Dale and Erebor.

For he had been there, Ages ago. He had watched his warriors fall one by one as they were pushed back further and further into the city, as Morgoth's forces proved too much for them. He had fought dragons and Balrogs, and far too many Orcs that day. He had watched his best friend die in the fountains he had loved so much, the first to defeat a Balrog, one of those fallen Maiar twisted into demon shape. He had fought to protect his princess, her husband, and their small son as they fled the city, hearing behind them the fall of the Tower of the King, knowing Turgon, who refused to leave his fair city, was dead.

Then yet another Balrog had ambushed them. Glorfindel, knowing it was the only hope any had of surviving, had fought it, and by some miracle, managed to defeat it. Then he had followed it into death.

Later, by the grace of the Valar, he had been reborn and returned to Middle-earth to protect the line of his King: Elrond was Turgon's great-grandson. And so it was he was there in Rivendell when thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a Wizard came bringing the swords he never thought to see again, relics of a previous life. And he thought it fated. For these swords had played no part in avenging the tragedy of Gondolin, but perhaps, with the Valar willing, they would avenge Dale and Erebor.

And Glorfindel could think of no finer fate for them.

The Fall of Gondolin is one of the saddest (and best) stories found in The Silmarillion. I am always reminded of it in the prologue of The Hobbit movie, when Bilbo says 'Such wanton death was dealt that day.' I knew I just *had* to write a comparison of the two, and Glorfindel and the swords Glamdring and Orcrist were the perfect link.

For those who have never read The Silmarillion, the Valar are 14 angelic beings/gods who dwell in Valinor (which is where all the Elves are sailing to at the end of LotR.) The Maiar are also angelic beings, but less in power. They are the servants and messengers of the Valar. (Sauron, the Balrogs and the Wizards are all Maiar)

And just a little random fact for those interested, Ecthelion of the Fountain was the first to slay a Balrog, followed by Glorfindel of the Golden Flower. Both died. They remain the only Elves to ever manage such a feat. Gandalf was the only one of the Fellowship who could hope to challenge the Balrog in Moria, as a Maia himself (if greatly limited in power at the time, as per his mission to Middle-earth)