Ashen Tears by Erurainon

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Chapter 3

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Maeglin grinded his teeth and gazed hard at the heavy hammer propped above his mantelpiece. He had formed it with his own hands, and mined for the gold and gems his people held so dear. His entire chamber was lavishly decked in golden figures of chieftains and warriors. Plaques of rock and marble he had hewn from the living earth hung from the walls. The floor and sealing were a mosaic and the windows doorways into a world of candlelight and music. A bard was singing in the street and a charmed fool was laughing. The land outside was chaos. All was dim and cool within- A sanctuary from a restless kingdom.

“Pretty big celebration all for one man,” he grunted to himself banging his fist against the mantelpiece. The wood raddled. “All for one man … Only a man … An ordinary, mortal … man- By Morgoth!”

Somebody was rapping on the door. Leaping to his feet, the dark elf put his fake grin back on and fit the key in the lock. The way opened and glaring down at him from the road was …

“Glorfindel,” Maeglin chuckled raising a hand in parlay. “Why out of all the people I was expecting, you were never one of them … Please … Please come in. Make yourself at home. I have enough oddments lying about for you to toy with- Want a fresh bottle of wine? Nearly ran out last week, let me tell you! What a mess in the quarry. Dear Varda protect us, ha?”

“Listen up Maeglin,” the elf captain sighed shutting the door behind him. “Turgon has a new order and you aren’t going to like it.”

”Let me guess,” the dark elf spat, “He wants to shut down the mines? For the love of Eru my dear friend, Why would you ever …”

“I know you are going to mine anyway Maeglin,” Glorfindel snapped pushing the lord to the wall. The dark elf merely sneered.

“And whose going to stop me,” he sniveled like a beast. “I know you Glorfindel … I know you much, much better than you’ll ever know me, and let me tell you, you’d be out of iron to ward your walls in a week, if it wasn’t for me. O, don’t tell me, we’re reducing the watch- We all know better. You depend on me to get your weapons and I depend on you to get paid. Just turn your head … And no more need be said.”

“No,” the captain growled bighting his lip, “And if you think I do you’re a much bigger fool than I ever thought you were. Do you actually believe I’ll let you break the law just to hear a few coins jingle in my pocket …? And we don’t need more weapons- You forget there are other delvers and diggers in this city who don’t leave the fringes of the realm.”

“And you forget what they make isn’t worth a slithering dragon,” the dark elf huffed, “Or I’m not Eöl’s son.”

“What a very proud heritage to claim,” Glorfindel grumbled. “Your father was a murderer and a perverted monster. He would have rather seen you dead than live here, and you boast you are of his blood …”

“I’m sorry,” Maeglin hysterically exclaimed rolling his eyes. “Didn’t you listen to that lord … I think you know his name … Who slew many of his kindred and drove them out of paradise. O … too sensitive? Father didn’t forget to teach me everything, and I’m not proud of his honor. The lord was a genuine bastard- But you know what he was good at?”

“What,” the elf captain groaned not liking where this was going.

“Business,” the dark elf snickered. “He was a first class businessman- He always knew how to get his way.”

“Great,” Glorfindel moaned making ready to go. “Just what I needed … Another miser for company.”

“O just one more thing then from the miser,” Maeglin interrupted peering over his shoulder at the hammer on the wall. “Why does the … good king want to shut down mining operations outside the realm?”

“More creeps in the shadows than any can foresee,” the elf captain darkly warned shuffling out into the night. “You and I both know whose watching …”

Varonwë raised his mug of ale to the moon and drank hardily. It felt good to down a real draft and not merely a pint of water culled from Arda herself. Cheers and ruckus delight followed him wherever he went and the press of well-wishers also hounded Tuor who they called, “great lord,” and “prince.” After running from Orcs and almost getting eaten alive a few times, Varonwë wasn’t so sure if there was anything heroic about what they had done- But hay! Plenty of pretty maids, enough ale to waste a party of dwarves, and plates of fresh bread … Who was to argue? They were now sitting in an out-door café lit by red lamps and starlight. The grass was firm and soft. The minstrel’s harp was sweet, and the king’s daughter danced barefoot on fields of barley. Tuor couldn’t help but stare and take in the spectacle- He was grinning from ear to ear. Varonwë drained the rest of his glass and joined the throng.

Tuor remained seated watching the lady on the grass. Her face was like a lily in a sea of grey and kindled dreams buried deep in his heart war had locked up. Doom fell on him, and he darted from his hiding-place to where she pranced upon the wind-tossed yard. Her bright eyes locked with his, and they frolicked together before the city streets- But two wanderers in a landscape of hope. Weariness gradually drove them beneath the cool shade of the trees where they lay panting like lovers coated in sweat. Neither had ever been happier. Both were exhilarated and freed by each other’s company. Idril saw Varonwë and the others begin to take down the white tents, and knew it was time to go. Her fingers clasped with his for the last time ere daybreak, and the two waded out into the crowd. Tuor and his quest-companion met at the over-turned benches very drunk and pleased.

“Don’t think we’ll ever have a party like that again,” Varonwë admitted shaking his head. “Some things are just way too good. You try to hold on to them, but they’ll fade like all great memories.”

“I don’t know,” Tuor mumbled wiping his brow. “Am just shocked the lords didn’t go through with the plan.”

“This is our home,” the elf explained gazing up at the mountains above. “It’s hard to leave everything you’ve bled to defend, and nigh on impossible to go back. Ulmo will understand … Besides, you need a break too … “

“I know,” the man sighed recalling the shade beneath the trees and Idril’s soft breath. ”It seems like the king and heiress want me to stay. Don’t really see why … But I’m glad.”

“You should be,” Varonwë chuckled poking his companion like a fool. “She’s a hard one to crack, and I can’t say any of us had much progress … Maeglin is still trying you know.”

“Bad will come of him,” Tuor grumbled kicking over a broken bottle. “Didn’t appear to be a friendly chap- The lords listened though …”

“O that’s because he mines the gold that fills their pockets,” the elf lord lazily mused. “He doesn’t take to most people. Is a dark fellow with an even darker past- But what do you do with those people? Its wrong to drive them out … But you can’t truly love them.”

“The king tries,” the man observed frowning gloomily at the well-trod ground. “Does Idril?”

A smug smile kindled his friend’s lips, and he looked knowingly back at the grove where man and elf maid had danced. Yes … Things were getting more interesting by the minute.

“You know that she’s more than a couple hundred years ahead of you,” he laughed patting Tuor on the back.

“Hay, Beren pulled it off,” the man joked. Varonwë grinned at his friend’s male cloak and heraldry.

“Something’s telling me you will too,” he quietly remarked half to himself. “Something’s telling me you will …”

Birds were singing in the vale and there were bells ringing in the hills. A green country stretched out beyond her window- A kingdom of love and promise. But the heart who pondered within did not peer out. Idril molded over loss and hope within. Her mother’s necklace and pendent clung to her like badges of war, and there was a magisterial light in her face she hadn’t worn the night before. Hand-Maid Eldwin was with her- Eldwin of the harp. The ladies were standing shoulder to shoulder by the fire. Red flames licked the dead wood warming the drafty hall as a hard breeze blew down from the highlands. Dark clouds loomed ahead , and there were whispers of Orc Bands throughout the hapless lands beyond … None of it troubled Turgon’s daughter more than Maeglin. The way he looked at her dancing with Tuor made her skin crawl. No words could describe it- No voice could hide it … He had to be dealt with … But how?

“I fear him too,” Eldwin murmured plucking a few strings of her ancient harp ere placing it back on the table. “You can’t keep running forever Idril … You can play the princess- But you got to stand or he’ll knock you down … And claim you.”

“He will not have me,” Idril briskly pouted gazing coldly at her friend. “I won’t let him …”

“You pity him,” she explained taking a step toward the door. “I know you … You won’t hurt him lest you mar yourself.”

“Maybe so,” the lady relented clenching her jaw. “But what would you have me do? He’s everywhere …”

“What does your heart tell you,” Eldwin softly urged staring into the hearth. “There is always a way don’t dig your heals in the ground. Don’t be reckless.”…

“I won’t be Eldwin,” the princess mused rubbing her eyes. “But its hard putting up with so much and not being able to think clearly- Yesterday came like a bolt of lightning … And … Well … “

“I know,” the hand-maid giggled licking her lips. “He’s cute … You don’t have to hide it. I think half of us nearly fainted when you two went dancing out on the grass. Made my heart flutter.”

“No wonder Maeglin flinches like a maiden,” Idril snickered. “He can’t make up his mind whether he loves me or hates me.”

“That all depends on what you call love,” Eldwin whooped skipping down the tiled floor like an actress. “But you know … This new man might fit well into discouraging the little prick from eyeing you.”

“What do you mean,” the princess inquired cracking a sly grin. “Come- You can tell me anything … You know that.”

“The poor bugger won’t dare insult a royal guest publicly,” Eldwin sighed lifting up her harp. “Maybe its time to … Spend a little more time with this fine fellow. I’m sure Tuor is just dying for a tour of the city …”

“You know what,” Idril exclaimed bolting to her feet. “I like the way you think.”

The bookshelf contained many maps and papers too creased to read in the half-light. Daylight was dying outside, and the room was growing mustier by the minute. Turgon reached for a small booklet and turned his back on the dusty mess- The chamber needed cleaning … But the work was more than he could bear. He thumbed through a few loose pages and made out the familiar hand … A fragile script of songs and poems she had written. That was ere the long road into exile … And the grinding ice.

A cold breath of air blew into the quiet room and disturbed his reading. He stuffed the manuscript into his garments and gazed up expecting to see Idril. But it was Maeglin and with him a darkness wider than the void
“You were reading her poems,” he slyly hissed. “It’s a shame, she had to die … My lord. Tell me, was it the ice or a different kind of frost? The road was hard afterall … Too much blood?”

“There’s always too much,” the king replied pursing his lips. “You know there is … Why do you haunt these halls?”

“These are my halls too,” the dark elf coolly snickered. “Do you forget how I bled for them?”

“Do you forget that I am king,” Turgon inquired taking a step forward. “I had no inkling you bore your father’s grudge. You may share is fate … If you would like.”

“O,” the dark elf laughed, his feet clamping hard on the wood floor. “I wouldn’t worry about that … Kings come and go. Death for fools like me is always constant.”

“Why so spiteful,” the king demanded furrowing his brow. “In what way have I earned your mockery? In what way, have I betrayed a trust?”

“The mines must be re-opened,” Maeglin growled like a beast. “You know where your gold comes from … Don’t make an enemy of me. You don’t have to.”

“I was never planning on being an enemy,” Turgon winced bighting his lip. “We can’t assure any lord’s safety in the caves. If you go outside my bounds … If you are ensnared and taken to Angband your home goes up in ash and smoke!”

“Me,” the elf lord spat digging his nails into his tunic. “Me ensnared? What kind of a liegeman do you take me for?”

“Glorfindel delivered my command,” the high king blandly stated. “If you disobey, you will be punished by the law! Your place is to follow … Mine is to lead.”

“For now,” Eöl’s son chuckled with Eöl’s voice. “What king hands power to a child among princes?”

“You claim there’s too much blood spilt outside these walls,” Turgon muttered letting his hand linger on his sword’s hilt. “You touch him or her and there will be more. Am I understood?”

“O yes,” the dark elf snarled bearing his white teeth. ”Thy will be done … Master.”