Poppies for Idril by Erulisse

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Chapter 1

 

Title:  Poppies for Idril

Author:  Erulisse (one L)

Characters/Pairing:  Glorfindel, Idril, OFC

Rating:  G

Warnings:  None

Book/Source:  Silmarillion

Disclaimer:  Tolkien built the sandbox, I only play with the bucket and shovel that he left for me.  No money, profit or non, is made from the publication of this story. 

 

 

H-A List 9th Anniversary

Poppies for Idril

A shout echoed over the pasture where Eilian was putting her small blond horse through a series of jumps. Slowing her horse and walking it off the course, she looked towards the city towers to see Glorfindel waving his arm at her, beckoning her to come towards him. Dismounting, she began walking in that direction, cooling her horse down at the same time.

”’Findel,” she called as she came closer to him. “How can I be of service to the Lord of the Golden Flower today?”

”I bear a message from Turgon for you.”

”Then come. While I am taking care of this one,” she patted the neck of her horse, “you can read it to me. It’s not confidential, is it?”

He laughed, “No state secrets here. You’re safe.”

She began washing and brushing her horse. He unrolled the scroll and read it aloud to her:

My dear cousin Eilian -
I would like a gift of the summer for Idril, something to bring color to her life while the snow falls. It should be something that can be used every day, not just on ceremonial occasions. In just a few weeks we will be celebrating the start of our 72nd year living here in Gondolin. I would like to present it to her at these festivities. Please let me know if you are willing to take on the commission.
Turgon, Lord of Gondolin

'A gift of summer... Gift... of... summer,’ he heard her murmuring. She finished brushing her horse and put her back into the stall, making sure that she was fed and watered and had an apple as a reward for a good morning’s workout.

”A gift of summer,” Glorfindel repeated. “Oh, before I forget. Have you seen the new filly that Fauniel dropped yesterday? Come to the end stall and see her before you go to your workshop.”

The two of them leaned over the top of the stall, looking at the mother and her new filly. The little one was already bright-eyed, lively, and showing signs of being capable of great mischief. She was a beautiful  russet bay with a white star and black stockings. Her mane and tail were black.

”Her name is Poppy, like the flower. We chose that because of her coloring. I’ll walk you up to your workshop. I have a lunch meeting with ‘Thelion and Rog, but I pass your home to get to Rog's tower”. He offered her an arm which she gladly took.

Dropping her off at her doorway, he could tell that her mind was hundreds of leagues away. She casually waved him good-bye, wished him a good lunch, and went into the workshop heading directly for her sketch slates saying ‘summer... poppy... Idril,’ under her breath.

* * * * *

On the morning of the third day after he had delivered Turgon’s message, Glorfindel once again found himself near Eilian’s workshop. She was happily shaping some silver into a goblet, one of a set that she had apparently either decided, or been hired, to make. She was humming a familiar tune while she hammered. He joined in with the chorus. She put down her hammer and turned around.

”Glorfindel, you cruel man, you almost caused me to place a hammer stroke where it didn’t belong,” she said, shaking her finger at him. He couldn’t take her too seriously, though, because her smile belied her angry words.

”I just dropped by to give these to you,” he said, and with a flourish he pulled a bouquet of poppies from behind his back.

”Oh, they are so beautiful. I have the perfect vase for these.” She walked to her shelving and pulled a blue and green enameled vase from a top shelf. “Let me get some water. I’ll get enough to make us tea also.” She left with a bucket in her hand to collect water from the communal fountain in the courtyard.

When she returned, she started water boiling for tea and placed the poppies onto the center of the table. While she arranged the flowers, she continued, “How is Poppy doing? Has she been let out into the pasture yet?”

”She was taken out of the stall just this morning for the first time, which is why I was down at the stables. You should have seen her; kicking up her heels and running around. She was eating the flowers, and chased a butterfly across the yard. It was too funny! Speaking of Poppy; how’s that gift for Turgon coming along?”

”Oh, it’s complete. I’ll work on the presentation box after I get these goblets shaped out, and I’ll give it to him next Ormenel. Here,” she reached above her workbench to a shelf and pulled a small fabric-wrapped package down. “Take a look and tell me what you think while I pour the tea.”

He untied the fabric and looked at the hair piece. Glorfindel was once again amazed by his cousin’s sense of whimsy. Idril’s hairpiece was made to fit directly over her braid. The center was a brilliant red-orange poppy made from glass enamel on copper. It was surrounded by two copper enameled leaves, and three smaller flowers that were made of silver with powdered lapis coloring, giving them a bright blue color. The smaller flowers moved easily, bobbing up and down with either motion or the breeze. The entire arrangement was attached to a leather sheath that covered a half-cylinder with holes for lacing. It was exquisite.

He smiled. “I had planned on giving Poppy to her when the filly has grown enough to be trained. Now she will have one poppy while she waits for the other. It’s truly beautiful, Eilian. It almost looks alive.”

She laughed. “Maybe I should add some scent to the leather to keep away flying insects and unwanted suitors.” They giggled together like schoolchildren.

A few weeks later, Idril received the hairpiece from her father. It became a treasured piece of her jewelry, and one that she wore often. Many years later, by the shore of a different sea, she longingly thought back to the poppies of Gondolin swaying in the breeze and riding on Poppy through the fields and pastures of her valley home. Touching the flowers gently moving in her hair; she was comforted.

A/N - Eilian is the Sindarin form of the Quenyan, Helyanwë.

 

 

To see what Idril’s hairpiece looks like, click on the link below: 

 

http://i937.photobucket.com/albums/ad214/Engarian/Pics%20for%20Stories/PoppiesforIdril.jpg

 

 

Chapter End Notes

Please review, your words are jewels scattered in the road before me.  

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