Oh Egalmoth! A bit tarnished and battered, but still bright enough for Orneredh to notice the colour...
I hadn't exactly thought about it, but it seems somehow right--that you would tell of Glorfindel's last battle both at one remove and up close, in a framed story, but nevertheless as an eyewitness account by his friend. And you've clearly thought out carefully exactly how it happened.
That shift from growing orchards to planting graves is a sad one. Nevertheless, well done, Orneredh-- a very brave emissary of Yavanna.
“You know,” she said, “I could do flowers. Golden ones, even.” And that explains that.
But that last look at Gondolin is heart-wrenching.