Gwilwileth's Folly by Kimberleighe

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Gwilwileth's Folly

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Year 541 of the First Age

              “He is hiding.  I cannot find him, Idhreniel,” said the King.

The advisor sighed, continuing her brisk walk through the halls, glancing idly at the papers in her hands.  Gil-galad walked beside her.  He had spent the past ten minutes attempting to convince her to help him find the lost twin.

                “I do not know where Elrond has disappeared to, Ereinion.”  Her patience was wearing thin.  “I am not the Peredhil’s keeper.”

                “Please help me?  I cannot find him anywhere.”

Idhreniel stopped in front of her office, opening the door.  She put her hand against his chest to stop him when he moved to enter the room.  His shocked eyes traveled down to her hand and then up her arm to her face.  She poked him once, directly at the center of his chest, before withdrawing her hand.  His arms crossed over his chest defensively, covering the silver stitched mark of his house. 

                “Gil-galad, you have given many duties to me this evening that you would like completed by morning.  So, you must find him on your own,” her voice was firm, punctuated by the closing of the door.

                Idhreniel sighed, leaning against the door for a moment.  She was glad to be alone, flipping through the loose pages in her hands, and tossing them on the desk once she was close.  She could bother with those later.  When she happened to look down at the desk, she spied her visitor.  Idhreniel hid her surprise, offering him a slight smile.

                “Ah, Elrond, the King is tearing apart Balar in search of you,” she motioned for him to come out. 

Elrond reluctantly left his hiding place and stood obediently before her.  Idhreniel tapped a finger against her lips.

                “Why are you hiding from Ereinion?  I believe it is your bedtime.”

Elrond lifted his thin shoulders in a shrug.

                “I just wanted to see the stars,” he mumbled.

Idhreniel smiled thoughtfully before steering him towards the balcony.  It would not hurt to let Ereinion continue his search for a little while longer.

                “Then let us look at them.”

                The boy did not need a second invitation.  He ran straight to the railing, first looking down at the rocks below and the waves continuously crashing against them.  Idhreniel followed slowly, watching the awe at which he beheld the sky.  It reminded her…Eglarest.  Her thoughts veered firmly away from the past, rooting themselves in the present.  Elrond pointed out Nénar proudly to Idhreniel. 

                “And there is Aglarebiel,” she pointed to a low hanging bright star in the South.  “She was the brightest of Elbereth’s works before Ithil’s rising.”

Idhreniel left Elrond to his star-gazing, taking a seat at the table set up nearby.  She picked up the rolled piece of parchment and unfurled it, setting a heavy, black rock on each corner to keep it flat.  The summer night sky was copied on the paper.  Menelvagor was half-way above the rim of the world.  Next month, he would complete his climb over the horizon and mark another year since the first Elves awoke in the starlit darkness.  Lines connected stars into familiar constellations, and her delicate script named each one.  She opened a heavy metal box, pulling out a singular silver tool shaped in a triangular wedge.   It was one of her mother’s designs.  It noted the angle at which each star lined up in regards to the horizon.  Each month, Idhreniel sought to capture their positions, to see if she would be able to decipher their mystery.

                “What are you doing?”

Elrond stood beside her, intently studying the chart.

                “Mapping the stars, Peredhil.  It is said that lady Elbereth placed signs in the sky.”

Elrond nodded vigorously.

                “Yes, that is what Meldilmë tells us.  She told us how the swordsman had to fight his way above the horizon.  Morgoth sought to keep him from rising for Telumehtar is his greatest foe.  Each year he disappears down into the earth; he goes to wrestle with Morgoth and his fell army.”

                “That is quite a tale,” Idhreniel murmured.

                “Do you know any?  Any tales, I mean?”

                Idhreniel turned her eyes to the heavens above, this time unable to keep her mind from drifting back to her childhood.  She remembered her mother sitting beside the Sea, moonlight shining in her black hair, eyes bright with the reflection of the stars.  That speckled glow locked within the eyes of the Teleri and Sindar who beheld the stars alone was more beautiful than all the light reflected in the visages of the Noldor.  She could almost hear her mother’s soft voice singing of the stars as she weaved.

                “My mother and father were born before the rising of Ithil and Anor,” her voice was quiet.  “Our tales are much different than Meldilmë’s.  We have seen more doom in the sky than joy.”

Elrond watched her intently, waiting for her to continue.

                “Please, tell me what they say,” he prodded when Idhreniel remained silent.

She smiled softly, taking his hand.  She had not spun her mother’s tales since Eglarest’s fall.

                “Tonight they tell me it is time for you to go to bed.”

Elrond protested mildly, but allowed her to lead him through her office into the hall.

                “Promise you will tell me these stories,” he said.

Before she could reply, a voice exclaimed, “There you are!”

                Ereinion strode towards the pair, frustration evident in his step.  He stopped in front of them, arms crossed as he frowned down at Elrond.

                “Where have you been?  I have been searching for you for hours!”

Elrond seemed to slide back, fearful of Ereinion’s cross tone.  Idhreniel placed a hand on Elrond’s shoulder reassuringly.

                “He has been with me, Ereinion,” she replied quietly.  “We were looking at the stars.”

                “And you did not think to tell me?”

                “We were entranced, Majesty.”

                “Idhreniel has promised to tell me her mother’s stories,” Elrond added.

There was a pause in Ereinion’s reply, apparent surprise on his face.  He could not recall the last time she had spoken of her parents.

              “Well, that is reason enough for you to be out.  Idhreniel’s mother was known among the Sindar for her great tales,” Ereinion felt his anger dissipating.  “Now, off to bed with you, Elrond.  I will be by to check if you made it there.”

Elrond ran off down the hall, sliding around a corner out of sight.  Idhreniel remained where she was, sensing Ereinion still had words to share with her.  He stood, watching the empty hall for a moment, listening to be sure Elrond continued on his route.

                “It has been many years since you spoke of Ninnethril’s star tales.”  Idhreniel felt his gaze settle on her.  “I would enjoy hearing them as well.”

He remembered spending warm summer nights on the beach, whispers of childhood plans shared between himself and Tirnion.  His mother would sit with Ninnethril; they were forever mending torn pants and shirts.  It was always after Ninnethril’s mate, Olthir, came back from the sea that she would set aside her work.  She would call the children near and whisper Sindarin stories.  Ereinion vividly recalled one evening when she spoke of the Evil Hunter and his dark steed that would kidnap young Elves.  He did not sleep for a week, worried that the fell horn would sound and he’d be caught unawares. 

“I do not know if I will tell them yet, Ereinion,” Idhreniel finally spoke, her tone soft.

Her grief had been great at the loss of both parents.  For over two years after their deaths, she had not spoken a single word, wrapping herself up in the cool distance of the stars.  Tirnion worried that she would succumb to her despair; Ereinion was concerned that she might cling to her vow of silence.  He remembered the night she broke her silence. 

That night had been especially clear, free of any fog or cloud.  He had taken over Tirnion’s spot, nursing a warm mug between his hands.  He stood over the newly finished chart, exchanging his glances between the paper and sky. 

                “Ah, Remmirath,” he had mused, taking a sip.

                “So tragic.”

Her voice was soft and rough.  Even she seemed surprised at her words.  Ereinion only offered her the mug.  She took it, tentatively tasting it. 

                “You have always found beauty in the tragic,” she finally said.

                “If we cannot find beauty in that which saddens us, we can only despair.”

For the first time since Eglarest, her eyes met his.  He found himself moving to her, arms already open.  He had held her when she finally cried.  Now Ereinion wondered if she had ceased her mourning at all.

                “Elrond will not easily forget.”  Ereinion touched her shoulder.  “I think the time has come to put aside your grief.”

The words were said as gently as possible.  Idhreniel moved from his grasp, bowing her head with a murmured “Good night, Majesty”.  Ereinion watched her for a second before striding away quickly to make sure a certain Peredhil made it to bed.

                As Ereinion predicted, Elrond did not easily forget.  It became routine for the elder Peredhil to join Idhreniel in the evenings.  At first, he did not press for a tale, but as his knowledge of the stars and their names increased, so did his subtle hints.  Idhreniel paid little attention to them, always meeting his questions with a quiet smile.  She would then redirect his attention, presenting him with yet another bit of information.  As her skill at distracting Elrond increased, so did the Peredhil’s patience. 

The summer night had not yet cooled off, even here on the island.  Idhreniel suggested that tonight they sit on the beach, near the cool mist of the breaking waves.  Elros joined them, eager to participate in whatever outing would stay his bedtime and bring him to the sea.  The twins ran on ahead when she ducked into her office to collect a blanket they could sit on during their beach outing.  When she exited, she was surprised to see the small group with the Peredhel.

                “Idhreniel, Gil-galad says he will join us!”  Elrond reported with a smile.  “And Meldilmë, Tirnion, and Ivoreth.”

Idhreniel greeted the other adults with a small smile.  She could not help the raised brow at her brother and his lady companion.  Tirnion merely looked away, offering his arm to Ivoreth as they began meandering towards the exit.  Meldilmë linked arms with Idhreniel.

                “I hope you do not mind.  I cannot stand the heat and when Elros mentioned the outing, it sounded lovely.”  Meldilmë, Gil-galad’s mother, was quick to say.

                “Of course, I do not mind,” Idhreniel replied.  “In fact, Elrond continues to pester me for a tale, but it sounds like you may know far more than I.  Would you do us the honor?”

Meldilmë nodded silently.

                “Tell us of Telumehtar,” Elrond pleaded.

                “Let us get to the beach first.  Then we shall decide,” Meldilmë responded.

                The walk to the shore was brief.  Ereinion straightened out the blanket on the sand.  The Peredhel sprinted towards the waves, backpedaling when the white foam advanced towards them.  They laughed, egging each other on, trying to see who could let the water get the closest without wetting their boots.  Idhreniel watched her brother and companion move on farther down the beach.

                “Who is she?” she asked softly.

Ereinion looked at the pair, taking a seat on the blanket.

                “Honestly, I could not say.”

Meldilmë laughed softly.

                “You two spend far too much time immersed in your papers and reports.  I’m sure Tirnion would share if asked.”

Idhreniel’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at Ereinion.

                “I believe your mother knows more than she’ll tell us.”

                “I must agree with you.  I wonder why she will not share,” Ereinion replied.

                “Peredhel, come away from the water,” Meldilmë called, unwilling to continue on the subject at hand.

                Reluctantly, they left their game.  Their tunics were dotted with water and boots wet.  Meldilmë pressed her lips together with a sigh, motioning for them to take off their boots to let them dry.  Both Elros and Elrond sat close to Idhreniel, waiting for the lesson to begin.  Idhreniel leaned between the boys, already murmuring for Elrond to remind her of their session the night before.  Ereinion stretched out on his stomach, taking the time to just relax.  Meldilmë gently rubbed his back, allowing her thoughts to wander. 

                “Gwilwileth,” Idhreniel’s voice was soft as she pointed out a particular cluster of stars to Elrond.

                “Wilwarin, butterfly,” he translated from Sindarin.

Idhreniel nodded, words escaping her mouth before she could stop them.

                “It is said that Gwilwileth was a lady of great beauty.  She was tall and fair with hair the color of the sandy shore.  Gwilwileth used to dance among the trees in the twilight before Ithil.  Her laughter would echo and chase away the magician-king, Dúfaron.  He continually pursued her for he coveted her great loveliness and not even his immense loathing for laughter would stop his need to have her.  He set traps and uttered spells in hope that he could ensnare her, but she always evaded him. 

When she was a child, an old wizard had warned Gwilwileth to never look at her own reflection, and if she did, the consequences would be dire.  She never questioned the counsel.  For centuries, the lady was content to hear others exalt her fairness and splendor.  She enjoyed leading Dúfaron on endless hunts, always one step ahead of him and his horse.  She began to think of herself as great and untouchable. 

One day, she sat beside the river, brushing her long locks and said to herself, ‘Why shouldn’t I look upon my beauty?  I am fairer than any!”  There was a soft voice in the back of her mind reminding her of the wizard’s warning.  Gwilwileth could not decide what to do.  She wanted so badly to see her appearance, but she worried about the consequence.  She sat there, frozen in her indecision.  Now, chance had it that Dúfaron found her.  He approached the stream slowly; she had never allowed him to linger long in her woods.  Dúfaron hated the sounds of laughter and song that she would chase him with.”

                “Why? Why did he hate it?” Elros cut in.

                Elrond glared at his brother for the interruption.

                “It’s obvious, Elros,” he said before Idhreniel could answer.

                “Share then, Elrond,” Idhreniel replied.

                “Dúfaron cannot sing or laugh, that is why,” Elrond said matter-of-factly.

A chuckle came from Ereinion’s side of the blanket at the innocent words.  Idhreniel hid her smile, taking great care to not look at Ereinion. 

                “Exactly.  Dúfaron could not sing or laugh.  Now, where was I?”

                “Dúfaron was approaching Wilwarin,” Ereinion supplied softly.

Idhreniel had not realized he was also listening to the story.  She had assumed he simply caught Elros’ comment.  She nodded her thanks and returned to the story.

“Dúfaron became anxious when she did not acknowledge his approach.  Perhaps it was a trap!  Gwilwileth did not stop her pacing.  ‘Why are you sad?’ the hunter asked as he caught her wrist with his hand.  He could not help his evil glee.  She was his!  ‘Why, I will never be happy until I can gaze upon my reflection.’  Dúfaron noticed that Gwilwileth was not as lovely in sadness and sought a way to remedy her gloom.  ‘Then look, Gwilwileth.  The river is slow here and you could see the image of your splendor.’  The lady shook her head vigorously.  ‘Oh no, a terrible thing is sure to happen if I do!’  Too late she realized the true identity of her companion.  He cast a net about her, a spell silencing her sweet voice.  Dúfaron took her away to the North, to his great black castle.  It was close to the stars and he fashioned a throne for her out of them.  He thought this would make her happy, but Gwilwileth remained cheerless.  For days, she sat in the cold of the stars, miserable and struck mute by the hunter’s spell.  He brought a great mirror to her and begged her to look upon herself.  For twelve months, he came each day to beg her to end her sadness and look into the mirror.  Finally, she agreed and Dúfaron placed the mirror before her.  In that moment, she was never happier.”  Idhreniel’s voice trailed off.

“Did anything happen?  Did the counsel come true?”  Elrond whispered sleepily.

His brother had already fallen asleep and the elder Peredhil was close to succumbing as well.  Idhreniel nodded.

                “Her beauty increased tenfold when she gazed upon herself in the mirror.  She sat frozen on her throne, unable to look away.  There was her doom.  She could not eat or sleep or do anything but stare in the glass.  Dúfaron was dismayed, but he could not bear to allow her beauty to diminish.  He used his magic, whispering a spell and placing her in the stars.  Then he could always gaze at her beauty and he would never be chased away.”

The night was silent once she finished.  Meldilmë rose to her knees, shaking each twin gently, and murmuring for them to rise to get to their beds. 

                “Thank you for your story,” Meldilmë said as she passed.  “I’ve never heard it told so well.”

Idhreniel leaned back to rest her weight on her elbows.  Ereinion propped himself up slightly.

                “I do not think I’ve ever heard that version.”

                “Yes, you have,” Idhreniel’s eyes were focused on the rhythm of the waves.  “I had to pretend to be Gwilwileth for days after Nana told this story.  Tirnion and you fought over who would be Dúfaron.  You enjoyed throwing Ada’s nets over me and dragging me through the sand.”

                “I hoped you had forgotten that.”

She laughed then, looking at Ereinion.

                “I do not plan to tell, Majesty.” 

                “A terrible thing would happen if you did,” he slowly pushed himself up off the blanket to stand.

Idhreniel took his offered hand to stand.  She picked up the blanket, shaking as much of the sand off of it as she could.  Again, Ereinion held out his hand.  Idhreniel raised a brow.

                “I believe I can handle carrying a blanket, Majesty.”

He laughed, surprising her when he took her hand, tucking it in the curve of his elbow. 

                “I have no doubt you can handle such a heavy load.”

They began the short walk back to the halls.  The first strains of a nighttime melody drifted out to meet them.  Ereinion hummed along before the notes turned into words.  Idhreniel contently listened, unwilling to join in.  He rarely sang anymore; there was no time.   It was in these moments that he was truly Ereinion.  The tune ended at her bedchamber doors.  Idhreniel withdrew her hand from his grasp, offering him a quick smile.

                “Good night, Ereinion.  I shall see you in the morning.”

                “Til tomorrow, Idhreniel.”

He waited until she shut her door to make towards his own rooms, falling across his bed into an easy slumber.

That night, he dreamt of stars.

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Chapter End Notes

Notes:

Idhreniel: advisor to Gil-galad

Tirnion: brother of Idhreniel

Meldilmë: Gil-galad’s mother

Nénar (Quenya): star, possibly blue in color.

Aglarebiel (Sindarin): “The Glorious”; Alcarinquë (Q); equal to our Jupiter and noted to be one of the brightest in the sky before the moon, sun or Gil-Estel.

Menelvagor (S): “The Swordsman”; Telumehtar (Q); equal to our Orion.  According to The Silmarillion, Menelvagor first “strode” into the sky when the Elves awoke.  The Encyclopedia of Arda did the calculations and discovered that this would occur in mid-September. 

Gwilwileth (S): “Butterfly”; Wilwarin (Q); equal to our Cassiopeia. 

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According to Greek mythology, Cassiopeia angered the gods by claiming she was more beautiful than the gods.  This led to a lot of trouble for her.