Glorfindel pouncing on Eowyn after the War :P
(for anyone unaware, Glorfindel was the one to make the original prophecy of ‘not by the hand of man shall he fall’ concerning the witch-king)
(can someone write this please? like - glorfindel coming with the delegation from rivendell to minas tirith for the coronation and he goes to find the person who fulfilled his thousand-year-old prediction and boom it’s this awesome gal and hobbit duo)
"Perhaps, dear Glorfindel", Erestor says, "you should just accept that you were wrong."
"Wrong, dear Erestor?”
"The only elves present when the Witch-king was killed were Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir", Erestor says. "None of them killed him. Nor did the dwarf. I cannot see any ents around, and unless you want to argue one of the Valar themselves did it, I think you will simply have to accept that a man killed the Witch-king, and you were wrong."
Glorfindel puts his hands on his hips and looks around. There is indeed an ambundance of men around, and a severe lack of - well, anything else. But he knows what he said that night, and it was nothing but the truth.
He makes his way through the crowded hall, though he has no idea what to look for. There are many valiant men, heroes of their own battles, but none of them is the one Glorfindel is looking for. He nods at the Steward as he walks past, though the Steward hardly notices - he is all too occupied with gazing into a woman’s eyes, a sleek, fair-haired woman with soft hands and a soft voice and…
Sleek, yes - soft, yes, but looks can be decieveing. A balrog-slayer ought to know that one does not have to be the same size as one’s foe to beat him. He has heard about this woman - the Lady of the Shield-arm they call her, but he has never yet realised what that may mean.
Lady Eowyn looks up. “Can we help you, my lord?”
"You are no man", Glorfindel says. "A woman, but not a man."
She tilts her head to the side.
"You slew the witch king, didn’t you?"
"Aye, I did." Now she looks pleased. "Though not on my own. Merry - master Meriadoc helped me. Do you know him?"
Glorfindel starts laughing. Several people nearby turn their heads, because an age-old elf-lord’s unchecked laughter is surely nothing you hear every day, but Glorfindel doesn’t mind. He wonders if Iluvatar heard his prophecy and decided to fulfill it in the most unpredictable way possible, just to mess with all the noble lords who think they know what a hero looks like. And he chose a hobbit, and this slender young woman with the gentlest of smiles and just a hint of steel in her eyes.
"Did you hear that, Erestor?" Glorfindel asks. "Here is my no man - half of him."
"Three thirds, more like it", Erestor says. "Yes, I heard. I admit it. You were right."
Glorfindel turns back to the woman, who is looking from him to Erestor wondering what is going on.
"If you do not mind, my lady", he says, "I would love to hear the story."