Of Eol & Aredhel by gamil-zirak

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Chapter 3

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OF EOL AND AREDHEL

OF EOL AND AREDHEL

Chapter Three...

Eol passed into the Council Chamber and heard the doors close softly behind him. He stood before a long marble table, ringed by ten chairs that were made of dark oak, upholstered with black leather and heavily laden with traceries of winged shapes and claws about the legs and armrests. His eyes rose to the tall carven figures that stood upon each side of the room, staring solemnly at the table top with jewelled eyes. Eol guessed that these were images of the Valar and he looked at them with interest, wondering about their names and powers. Only one he knew from ancient sight. He stood fourth from the threshold with emerald eyes and a curved horn held in his great hand. The Valaroma. Memories of long ago now came to Eol. A long trek under the stars. Wonder and delight in the discovery of new and strange lands. The bonds of family and friends long gone. The fear and horror; the pain....

"Now it is just us," came a voice that drew him back.

Eol turned to the woman who stood with her back to him. A spasm of anger flared at the sight of her, yet ebbed away swiftly. He was weary of it all. Weary and lost. His purpose that had seemed so clear was in disarray. He had thought to do one thing, but strangely became incensed to do another. Yet even in that blinding moment Aredhel had cried out! Had she guessed his mind then? Eol believed she had and her desperate clamour had halted him, leaving him confused and unsure of how to proceed. He knew he was trapped. Trapped in this room within the city. Trapped and alone. All had forsaken him as had done in ages past. But he had learned to live a solitary life, free from the ill will of others. Free until Aredhel had come to disrupt his ways...disrupt his solitary vows. He could never forgive her. She did not comprehend his innermost pain and had given little heed to his grave hope by taking away what she had gifted him...her love and loyalty, both of which he had prized beyond all things. He had been afraid to let himself feel again, fearing the failings of the past, but ultimately the daughter of Fingolfin was no different to the rest. They had all failed him. Even his own flesh and blood. Even Maeglin.

"Will you speak first or shall I?" she asked without turning to face him. He wanted to hate that voice so he could rant and rave his injuries. So he could curse her for having betrayed him. So he could see her quail and weep her regret to his anger's satisfaction. But he was weary and the fight had gone out of him. He would let her speak her truth. He cared not, for she had won. He was at the mercy of Turgon and his kingdom. All was Aredhel's now; a home renewed, reacquainted with dear kin and his son's love now solely in her keeping. He had truly lost everything.

"I care not," he said as his bulk diminished with the defeated sag of his broad shoulders and bowed head. "Speak your mind!"

"You care not?" came Aredhel's steady reply as she slowly turned about. The look upon her face was hard, as if it were smooth stone like that of the tall statues that surrounded them. But her eyes were bright and wavered with some fey emotion as they flickered in their intensity. "Surely a lord with such grievances would have more to say to the wife who abandoned him."

Eol looked at her with thinning eyes. He could see that she strove to withhold a seething anger. He knew then that she had truly guessed his dark intent. She had seen his hand inch towards his concealed weapon. She had seen his cold eyes laid upon his intended victim. What had come over him in that moment of madness? His rage had far surpassed his reason, and goaded him to a fell deed that would have blackened his spirit. The "why" he understood. For Maeglin was his son who was dearer than all his arts and works. To be robbed of home and livelihood meant little, than to lose his son to the greed of the Noldor. To have Maeglin stare at him with a stranger's eyes who saw not a father but a grim vagabond of whom he would be rid. Nay, that was too much to bear. The Noldor had taken much from his people and he hated them for it. But that their haughty pride should steal away his own flesh and blood! He could hardly live with that. Such was the "why" but the "how" confused him. He had not thought to do the damnable deed of taking his son's life. That had not crossed his mind as he honed the dart in the shadows of his home and dipped its tip into the poisonous concoction. He had made the foul weapon for himself, as a desperate final act against the proof that he was utterly forsaken by those he loved. He would die thus in the wild if his quarry eluded him, or if captured, he would turn the dart upon himself before the faces of his enemies and the eyes of the estranged. That had been his dark plan.

But when it came to it a madness had come over him, deepening his rage to crimson proportions that flung away all rational thought. He was goaded into taking his son's life and then his own, thus feeding his hate's grim satisfaction with a triumphant vision of Aredhel and Turgon's pained horror at the dismal result of their wilful actions. From where that epic rage had come, Eol did not know. Yet at Turgon's proud words that denied freedom for both him and his son, his anger had swelled with evil intent, and before he was aware, his hand moved almost of its own will to uncover the murderous weapon. But Aredhel had stayed his madness with a startling cry. "Wait!" she had called, withering his rage to dissipate into the receding memory of a foul dream. He had stood confused and alarmed at the realisation of his dark intent. The dart had been for himself, not his son. He repeated this over and over again in his bewildered mind, seeking to come to terms with the level of evil that resided in him. "I did not come to kill Maeglin," he mused. "The poison was for me alone." Yet he could see the blame in Aredhel's accusing stare. She knew and would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself. In that hour Eol felt more alone than ever before.

"Speak!" said Aredhel as she took a step towards him with eyes shining brighter as they flickered to his breast and back to his mournful gaze. Her fisted hands trembled and her breast shook with pent up emotion. "Tell the daughter of Fingolfin why she should not have fled from such as you! Berate her faithlessness! Deride her treachery! Show contempt for her betrayal!" She took a step closer, with a clenched jaw and lips grating to a grimace.

Eol looked at Aredhel, absorbing her anger that now mirrored his own. How bitterly strange it seemed that he had lost the high ground of the estranged spouse who was fleeced of love and loyalty by a single act of raging madness. He had no words of attack or defence. He doubted Aredhel would ever believe him if he told her he had not meant to harm Maeglin, but that his righteous anger had somehow pushed him towards the horrendous act. Nay. She would never believe him. Eol sighed. "I have nothing to say," he said quietly.

That answer seemed to incense Aredhel for at that moment, she moved. Quicker than a striking snake, her hands shot up to grasp the folds of his cloak by his right breast. Eol's hands swiftly went for her wrists, grabbing them both with vice-like strength but Aredhel's right hand clasped at what was hidden and with a violent tug of emotional strength, she freed herself from his grasp clutching her prize. A moment passed as both stared at the dart held in Aredhel's trembling hand. She studied its sharp point and blackened tip with sickening realisation. Eol's eyes slowly moved to linger upon her, watching with bitterness and shame as she winced, staring aghast at the wooden device of cruelty she now held.

"So this was to be Maeglin's punishment for choosing his mother?!" she gasped incredulously, turning towards him with eyes widening in disbelief and shock. Suddenly, her left hand swept up and her open palm struck Eol across his face. He grunted his surprise at the sting, and with it came a stab of anger. But Aredhel was undaunted by his black look. "You malicious creature!" she cried, and struck Eol again with a blow that rang harder than before.

He staggered back a step and whipped back to face her with a reddening face of thunder. But Aredhel was fey, enraged by her discovery, and she was upon him again with a hand raised for another blow. But Eol was prepared, and even as her hand swept forth, he grabbed at it with terrible force and held her wrist with crushing strength. They glared at each other until Aredhel's face contorted with pain and she gasped.
"Two strikes I will give you," Eol snarled. "No more!" He bent his sneer to her grimace until they were but inches apart, his fiery blue eyes blazing to the grey quenching of hers. "No more!" he growled again and Aredhel nodded. But Eol slowly turned to her right hand that still clutched the dart firmly in her fingers. "Unless you would set the weapon upon me," he goaded. Aredhel shook her head vigorously, her eyes tearing from the pain of his grasp.

Eol smiled darkly and turned back to her. Both his cheek and pride were still smarting from Aredhel's violence, but his boiling anger simmered and cooled as he looked into her wet eyes that now held a growing fear. Those wonderful grey eyes that had once regarded him with such warmth and trust. He felt a sharp pang of regret and suddenly became aware of how they stood, with him bearing down upon her as she leaned away in pain and fear. From blessed days spent entwined in loving embraces it had all come to this. The thought pained Eol, so much so that he released Aredhel abruptly as though she burned to the touch. Aredhel immediately cast the dart upon the table and clasped her wrist, hissing her pain through clenched teeth.
"You are a brazen woman!" said Eol, as he watched her tend to her injured arm. "Yet you go too far."

"I go too far!" Aredhel replied in disbelief. "Why, Eol. Why do such a thing to me...to your own son?!"

Eol turned aside. He could not face the accusation in her tone, in her eyes. She would not understand. She would not believe. "Why do you think it was intended for Maeglin?" he muttered, wishing to know the depth of her conviction of his guilt.

"Spare me your guile!" Aredhel returned. "I saw the foul intent in your merciless eyes when you cast your evil sight upon our son and set a hand to your breast with searching fingers. Nay, you cannot fool me. But answer me! Why?"

"And why not!" cried Eol, his anger building again. "Maeglin is my son and heir and not the fosterling of Turgon and a puppet of the Golodhrim. He is of the Sindar! Or do you forget that my blood takes precedence over yours. That is Elven Law! Yet you would usurp my rights by filling my son with heady notions of Golodhrim glory in a bid to mock me and his Sindarin heritage. You over-proud hussy! A seductress to the last you are, even with your own son! But I am Eol, who is governed by no will or counsel save my own! Therefore if my rights to my son are denied me, I should deny my usurpers my son!"

"Oh, a bitter lord you truly are!" said Aredhel, grimacing at his words. "Both pitiless to me and to Maeglin. For my only crime was to yearn for my kin, though I denied myself that indulgence at your stern command for many a year. Yet I was content in our love. However in yielding to Maeglin's questioning, a desire for home was awakened. For Gondolin is also my right! And am I also to be blamed for your son's love for my People? For I told no lie to Maeglin, but recounted in truth whom I was of the Gondolindhrim, and of the beauty and majesty of my realm, all of which moved his heart. And know this too. Whatever rights you may have as his father, I have mine also. For a mother's labour is great in the begetting and raising of children, and until death we give that which encompasses all to a child, a Mother's Love. Does that account for nothing? Is it then so strange that Maeglin should seek to know more of me and honour mine, regardless of his father's curious hatreds? Yet for all that, I should endure the abuse of "hussy" and "seductress" from you, tainting my honour as a loving mother and dutiful wife. Moreso, I hear you speak of Elven Law. If so, then I should ask where are Fingolfin's gifts, or when did you gain his leave to wed me? For that too is Elven Law which you have not observed. However, understand that all cannot be to what suits Eol of Nan Elmoth. That his will alone be done. Nay! The world has other minds and purposes which may be contrary to yours. But there is also tolerance and wisdom to which I now beg you to refer."

Aredhel's words burned Eol deep, yet however culpable he may be, she had known his mind from the start and yet had accepted him with all his hatreds. And so he had come to love and trust her, and thus built a life of serene bliss for them both. But she had delved the first cracks in their happiness. A dull ache arose in his chest. Why were he not enough, who had been so for many wonderful years? If only Aredhel knew how much she meant to him. That she had given him true joy. That she had erased the painful memories of his past. But now the darkness flooded back, taunting and mocking him in triumph. None could truly love him...could ever appreciate him. Not a wife nor even a son. He would always be deceived, clutching wisps of hope that faded at the touch. The despairing thought renewed his bitterness and he sneered at Aredhel's remarks. "Refer to wisdom!" he spat. "Alas, the time for such prudence has long passed. Hah! Even Curufin's heart of malice warned me! "If you now pursue those who love you no more, never will you return thither." I should have listened, even to him. Yet his wisdom came overlate. For I should have returned you to the borders when first I laid eyes upon you. Then I would have skirted this tragedy, and would still have both livelihood and home."

But Aredhel's face grew dark at his words and her eyes brightened again in heated reply. "Nay!" she cried. "Do not further reveal yourself through the folly of your bitterness."

"Coddle me not!" returned Eol. "For if in your grand pride you have some all seeing insight as to my words, say on!"

"I will," Aredhel replied, veiling her beauty with a grim stare. "For at least in that encounter I can hold myself blameless."

"How?" asked Eol.

"You know best!" said Aredhel. "Or do you forget how you eyed me when I first came to you, or the enticements you made. "I will take you back," you said. "But first let me show you my home. It is not far. There you shall have refreshments and rest awhile. And when you are sated of both, I will send you on your way." But that was never your intent was it Eol? Nay! I saw the sly grin and caught the glint from under the lids of your lecherous eyes. I knew then what you wanted of me. For you were not my saviour but my captor who would use me for his body's need and delight, and maybe take such by force if I ultimately refused you!"

Her words hurt him to the quick, and hurt because they were partly true. He had desired her upon their first meeting. Indeed he had lusted over her. He was guilty of that. But did he have it in him to force himself upon her? Could he have performed such a heinous deed upon so beautiful and noble a maiden, for all his unrequited desires. The darkness shifted within him, coiling out a snaking dread within the pit of his stomach. Eol quailed as it whispered to him.
"Dark is your heart," it hissed. A vision of violence flashed before his mind's eye; struggling arms; straining legs; a blood curdling cry; panting and grunting; deadening eyes resigned to the mastery of the pumping evil that lay astride her.
"But I am guiltless!" cried Eol's inner torment. "I could never have performed a deed of such wickedness," it pleaded.
"Yet such darkness lies within," came the ghastly reply. "She knows this as do you."
Eol's spirit fell to its knees. "Nay, nay!" it cried. "I am Eol of the Teleri, not a foul creature maimed by the dark arts of the North. I am still Eol, worthy of love and honour!"
The darkness laughed with an evil cackle that faded into the echoing depths. And then Eol was himself again, standing before Aredhel with a pained look upon his face.

He took a step back, aching from the design of his tormented spirit. "I...I did not force myself upon you," he uttered. Aredhel looked at Eol intently, the grimness of her face softening as she noted the strange change that had come upon him. "You remained with me of your own free will," continued Eol, speaking now as much to himself as to his wife. "You desired me as much as I you." His eyes began to waver and glistened with some teary emotion. Aredhel's rising concern slowly turned to shock, seeing deep grief in that once tearless face, and a vulnerability she had never before witnessed in that stern man. Her own anger subsided, replaced now with grief at their predicament. And with it came pity for Eol. She bowed her head as her own eyes teared.
"Tell me Eldis," said Eol softly. Aredhel sharply raised her head at the name, for it meant "Star Bride." Eol had named her that in honour of her beauty which he pitted with that of the stars he loved. "Give me that truth at the very least," he muttered.

Aredhel looked at him, taking in his sadness, understanding his loneliness and fathoming a strange life's story that held dark secrets of ancient griefs. She had pitied him when she first came to know him and she pitied him now, after she had attempted to leave him. She was sorry for his pain and for her part in causing it. But she was not sorry for loving him. Of all men she had chosen Eol and he had to understand that now more than ever.
"Nay Elben," she replied, using her own name for him that meant "Star Husband." She gave a little smile. "You did not force yourself upon me. I stayed of my own free will with the man I grew to love. The man I still love, and the man I shall always love."

Eol heard her words and they smote his heart, fading the darkness within. That is what Aredhel meant to him! She kept his darkness at bay with her acceptance, her understanding and with her love. But she had taken all that away with no true inkling of what that would mean for him. He had secretly loathed his life before her coming, yet in knowing the loving companionship she had given, now he could not live without it. And so he had chosen to die. Yet he could easier endure death, now that she had confessed her love, for all his faults. With that sentiment in his heart he sank upon a chair, bowed his head and covered his eyes with a hand. Aredhel came forward to sit beside him and also bowed her head. The likenesses of the Valar stood tall in their own bowed silence, seemingly respectful of the two forlorn figures who sat before them, both bent with sorrowful weeping.

~oOo~

The guard took hold of the golden handle and softly closed the great oaken door, sealing away his mother and father from view. Maeglin stared at the door, wondering what would come of their ensuing battle of words. He envisioned his father's stern bulk, bristling with a sense of injuries done upon him by his family. Nay, Eol would not lay hands upon his mother, grim as he was. Still, Maeglin was troubled. He lowered himself to sit upon the third step of the dais with his sharp gaze fixed upon the door, and his addled thoughts could only conjure more unease. He could not help it. He turned to look up at the King who he sat in conversation with his daughter. He could not hear their words for they spoke softly and at times seemed to whisper. Maeglin sighed and turned back to the door, straining his ears for some evidence of sound from within. But there was nothing to be heard. The door was oaken thick and ponderous in its heavy swing. Besides, council rooms were designed for few ears. He looked about the hall and frowned at the emptiness of its opulence. Five pairs of guards stood at each exit, and only they and the great statue of Ulmo poised within the marvellous pool of shimmering waters, were present. All else were wide areas of shining marble, sturdy pillars, empty benches and couches hugging the tapestried walls. The sense of emptiness began to weigh on Maeglin, forcing him to stand. He needed air. There was a doorway at the midmost point of the northern wall which led out to a strip of sunlit garden. Maeglin stepped down from the dais.

"You are leaving?" asked the King, looking up from conversing with his daughter.

Maeglin halted and turned to him. "I feel the need of air," he replied.

"Well do not stray too far," said Turgon, "as I would have you present when your mother and father return."

Maeglin gave a nod and curt bow, then turned and strode towards the exit. He passed through the open door into cool winds that swept about the hill of Amon Gwareth. He turned left, following a white path laid between the green arms of a vigorous strip of lawn, charmed here and there with rows of celandine and uilos. The vaulting walls of the palace cast a cool shadow over him and he felt a little cold. But ahead lay the Square in all its sunlit glory. The lawn shone bright green before his feet, glistening in wet patches from droplets cast by two masterful fountains that stood nearby, gushing forth their endless stream of sparkling water, and waving billowing sheets of spray into the airy gusts and high breezes. Birds were chirping in the high arms of poplars, ranked like nature's soldiery that bordered the white pathways as towering hedges. Smooth limbs waved and rustled leafy greetings to the groups of elves who lingered at ease beneath them. Maeglin took note of them. There were elegant ladies clad in flowing silken garments, bejewelled with twinkling necklaces and carcanets and crowned with shining circlets and caps of silver and golden lace netted with gems. And tall noble lords he saw, robed in white and grey, or armoured in silver and gold with velvet surcoats that proudly displayed their houses. All either stood beneath the shade or sat in easy comfort within the many couched recesses carved into the black rock shelf that bordered the Square. Others walked about the criss-crossing pathways with languid steps or sat upon the carven basins of the fountains and the great pool, caressing their shivering waters with gentle hands. Upon all were looks of content, and joyous laughter along with merry voices raised in mirth filled the kind airs.

Maeglin breathed in the fragrance and looked up, sunning his face in its bright warmth. He soon felt the soft patter of spray and smiled at the quaint sense of pleasure it gave him. A little time for himself to forget his troubles is what he needed. He decided to look upon the city and so began towards the northern shelf, for there was an empty couch nearby and few people lingered about it. Only a trio sat by a close fountain and a pair of ladies stood many paces away near the opening to the Northern Highway that led down to the North Gate. Maeglin sat down and looked over the shelf, taking in the rolling view of the northern quarter of the city that lay beneath him. He took it all in. The multitudes of housings thatched or tiled and domed halls with glinting spires. The open spaces where bountiful gardens and rich fountains throve. The shimmering pools and sparkling ponds reflecting the blue sky. And rising between the tiers were many stairways of glimmering white stone, from which branched shadowy lanes and broad avenues.

Glorious had been the vision of Turgon when first he stood upon that barren rock many years ago, and Maeglin marvelled at the great mind of the King which conceived such as what he now beheld. His sharp sight went to the line of the great wall that surrounded the city, with its massive towers and proud parapets, and countless banners rippling upon silver spires and pointed roofs. Maeglin followed the wall about the arc of city that he could see. It stood at a level height many feet above the first tier housings. Yet he noted that to the right of the bulging guard towers of the North Gate, the top of the wall was lower than anywhere else. Looking closer, Maeglin could see that the wall was still level with all the other parts of it, so it had to be the ground that rose there. And indeed, he noticed a ridge that stretched from Amon Gwareth under his very feet, like a long arm that formed an almost imperceptible rise throughout its path under the city, leading all the way to the North Gate. "Over there must lie some high point in the lay of the hill," Maeglin thought. He turned away but his gaze was strangely drawn back to that spot and as he looked, a feeling of unease crept upon him.

"Maeglin!" called a voice from afar. He looked about him. "Maeglin!" came his name again. He turned to the pair of ladies who stood by the Northern Highway. One was beckoning to him but his heart sank, for he did not desire company. He had come outside for a bit of peace, alone. He gave them a curt wave. What did they want with him? He swore inwardly; a habit he had picked up from his father. Maybe if he looked away they would let him be. He turned back to the rooftop view of the city and after a tense while, gave the ladies a swift glance. His spirits fell yet more, for the two were approaching him. Maeglin sighed and forced a half-hearted smile as he rose to meet them. Instantly he recognised the two ladies, for he had seen them in his mother's quarters the day before.

"A fair morning to you," said she who had waved. Her face was sharp featured, with slender arched brows, oval ash grey eyes and a straight nose sloping to a pointed tip. Her opulent lips were upturned to a somewhat alluring smile. She was clad in a white close fitting silken gown that accentuated her tall lissom body and was embroidered about the low-cut neckline and wide sleeves with silver lace. Upon her neck lay a copper carcanet of red rubies and about her brow shone a silver circlet, fitted with a garnet of bright crimson. Her jewellery went well with her long mane of russet hair that fell about her shoulders in a firey cascade.

"And to you also," said Maeglin with a bow, feeling a little uneasy under the playfulness of her stare.

"You may not recall my name though doubtless you remember our meeting," she said with a hint of mischief in her smile.

Maeglin feigned a thoughtful look. "Let me guess," he drawled to the amusement of the women. "You must be lady Russafinde, held a dear friend to my mother."

Russafinde laughed. "I am indeed. But what of my friend here?" she asked, gesturing to her companion. She was a little shorter than Russafinde, with a slender yet graceful frame. Her oval face held a rose coloured tint to her cheeks and her hyacinth blue eyes radiated an easy friendliness. A slight buttoned nose was fashioned atop her delicate lips that were curved to an appealing smile. She was clad in a green gown, patterned with golden embroideries in the likeness of leaves. She wore a pendant that was fitted with an emerald teardrop, and upon her head of flaxen hair that fell about her shoulders in long supple braids, sat a dainty cap of golden lace.

"Ah," exclaimed Maeglin. "The elegance of fair hair suggests a noble lady of the Sindar. Therefore you must be lady Eristeth, held dearer still to my mother's heart."

Eristeth laughed as Russafinde feigned a scowl. "It is I who is your mother's favourite," she said with a light grin. "Yet your memory is impressive as our former introduction was fleeting."

"It was," said Maeglin. "But it were easy to recall you both. For of the ladies whom I saw, only you and lady Eristeth bore the red and the gold."

Russafinde smiled with a raised brow. "The red and the gold! Soundly put I suppose. Yet I like it, for it is to the point."

"I meant no offence," said Maeglin gravely, "as I am not used to speech with the high and noble. I fear I have yet to learn lordly manners."

"Pay her no mind," said Eristeth, putting a consoling hand to his arm. "She teases you. But come! How fare you in the city? Have you been to the Great Market, or walked the hallowed square of Gar Ainion, or seen the staircase falls of the Way of Running Waters, or...?"

"Peace Eristeth!" cried Russafinde, raising a halting hand. "Let the young man alone." She turned to Maeglin. "My apologies for Eristeth's torrent of questions," she said with a disarming smile. "What she meant to ask is are you settled well in our city?"

Maeglin fought the urge not to look crestfallen, for settled he truly was not. "I have not seen much as I only arrived yestermorn. However, I have glimpsed something of the palace."

"Ah, the King's Palace!" said Russafinde, looking up to its white walls and high balconies, and the piercing rise of its grand towers glinting in the sun. "A dwelling fit for a mighty king indeed. Yet it is but an echo of the beauty of the Palace of Finwe upon Tuna." She sighed wistfully and paused. Maeglin could plainly see that she was caught in some distant memory or yearning thought.

"Now pay her no mind," said Eristeth, breaking the silence. She took Maeglin's arm and guided him to the couch. "The Noldor hold a melancholy for places unknown to we poor creatures of Middle-earth," she continued, unperturbed by Russafinde's pointed glance. She sat down and drew Maeglin beside her. "By their sudden fits of longing do they tell us of the Blessed Realm and their past works of glory," she proceeded, cocking an eye at Russafinde's amused scowl. "Their sorrowful recollections and musings are informative at times, but tiresome all the same."

"Do not listen to her," said Russafinde to Maeglin as she swept down to settle beside him. He felt a little uncomfortable, meshed between those two playfully formidable ladies. "For Eristeth is jealous that she and her people never had the pleasure of knowing the Valar, or the honour of dwelling with them in Aman."

"That may be," said Maeglin, summoning the courage to utter words that might be received with offence or jest. The ladies were harmlessly toying with him of course, but he thought to hold his own in their banter. "Yet I would question whether Aman is all the Noldor report it to be for did you not abandon it, seeking the betterment of the hinterlands of Middle-earth?" A potent silence fell with both ladies staring agape at Maeglin. He turned his head from one to the other in anxiety over his jest. Suddenly Russafinde and Eristeth burst out laughing, their chortling becoming so loud as to turn a few heads their way. Maeglin sighed his relief. At least the Gondolindhrim had a sense of humour.

"Well said son of Irisse, well said," cried Russafinde between her fits of laughter.

"We have the makings of a pert prince, to be sure," said Eristeth, shaking her smiling head. "You have your mother's cheek!"

"Indeed!" said Russafinde, finally bringing her laughter to cease. "And I see Irisse, or rather King Nolofinwe in your face and bearing." Her expression gradually became grave. "But what of your father?" she asked quietly. "What of him do you bear?"

Maeglin's face darkened at the question. He turned to Eristeth and found her attentive as ever, almost peering at him from where she sat. Maeglin shifted uncomfortably, thinking of what to say. He did not want to think of his father, let alone speak of him. His family's story was complicated. Indeed, his parents were shut away at that very moment, locked in a battle of estranged wills whose outcome still hung in the balance.

"Can you not say aught of him to us?" Eristeth asked softly, laying a gentle hand upon his shoulder as she leaned towards him with a coaxing smile. Then it dawned on Maeglin. This was what they had planned to wean out of him from the very start. They wanted to know about Eol and probably glean all that was afoot within the palace. He swore inwardly again.

"Who is this man who wed our friend?" asked Russafinde. "For we know absolutely nothing about him."

"Save that Irisse was far from pleased to hear of his coming," said Eristeth tactlessly.

Maeglin had had enough. Confused as he was about his relationship with his father, it were easy to see that these women viewed Eol darkly and that roused a strange sense of offence in him. He rose abruptly from the couch and turned to them both.
"I know not what you have heard or what you have surmised, but I have nothing to say on the matter." The ladies upturned faces darkened a touch at that. "Furthermore, if you are indeed my mother's friends, then to her should your questions be given. I however came to the Square for peace..."

"And peace you shall have!" The voice came from behind and Maeglin turned to see Idril's swift approach from the palace. Maeglin absorbed the sight of her with warm eyes. She wore a queenly white gown, embroidered about the high neckline and thin sleeves with golden traceries and patterns. Embracing her waist was a girdle of silver, jewelled with diamonds. Her supple neck was graced with a silver necklace, banded with ten starry gems and hanging from the centre was a single teardrop of a misty pearl. Of Mithril was her circlet, shaped in the likeness of leaves sprouting from a twisted vein of shapely curvatures that encased a sapphire at the centre. Her golden hair fell in a single plait of twisted finery down to her waist. Her flawless face shone bright in the sun, enhanced by the steady glow of her lilac blue eyes. Idril was indeed a vision of elven elegance, being effortless in her grace and radiant in her beauty. Maeglin smiled his appreciation of her timely arrival.

Idril halted before him and put a gentle hand to his shoulder. "Are you all right cousin?" she asked, radiating concern.

Maeglin's smile brightened even further. "I am," he replied. And he declared so with truth, for his unease under the sense of entrapment from the two devious ladies receded, now that Idril was come. Maeglin could not fully understand why, but he felt a sense of ease and comfort when he were with her. Only fleetingly the day before, Idril had guided him about the corridors and winding staircases of the Palace, touring its opulent halls and lofty views of flowery beauty that lay upon the high terraces. In that short time spent together he had felt close to her, as if they had known each other long and were now reunited after a measured absence.

Idril smiled and turned her attention to Russafinde and Eristeth who both stood and gave light curtsies and the apt "Your Highness," to their princess.

"My ladies," replied Idril. "Have I come upon a meeting between friends or is it otherwise?" she asked somewhat gravely.

Eristeth sullenly bowed her head but Russafinde was not easily daunted. "We are all friends here, my Lady," she replied confidently. "We decided to join Maeglin and enjoy the morning with sally and jest."

"And yet your pleasantries seem to have gone awry," said Idril. "Unless I am mistaken." A windy silence fell, laden with the unease of a veiled reprimand. Eristeth was downcast and Maeglin shifted uncomfortably where he stood. Russafinde cast her sharp glance down, but her tight-lipped sigh and stiff posture betrayed a defiance to the royal rebuke. But Idril turned to Maeglin. "Perhaps you might think to walk with me instead," she said to him, lightening the dourness of her face with a simple smile.

"Of course," replied Maeglin gratefully. Suddenly he remembered why he was out there. Had Idril come to call him back to the throne room! His face darkened as forgotten fears returned to him. "Have they come out?" he asked, staring with wide eyes. Russafinde and Eristeth's heads swiftly rose to Maeglin with questioning faces, but Idril shook her head; her smile fading once more. Maeglin was relieved, for he was not ready to face the dire outcome of his situation. And then he was aware of the two ladies who turned to each other with looks of affirmation as to their guesses. Maeglin realised his fearful query had revealed more than anything he could have said under their artful questioning. Again, he swore inwardly.

Idril lightly took hold of Maeglin's arm. "Come, let us walk the Square together," she said. They had gone a few steps when Russafinde's words halted them.

"We have a right to know what is afoot," she said, "for Irisse is our dear friend."

"That may be," Idril replied, turning back slowly. "And if so, whatever is afoot should come to your ears by Irisse herself, not her son."

"And how should that come to pass as we have been denied entry into the palace to speak with her?" asked Russafinde. Her sharp face darkened with frustration as she spoke.

"Whoever's command it was to deny you, you may be sure it was not mine," replied Idril. Her face softened a touch. "I know not what more to say for your comfort," she added.

Maeglin looked at the two ladies who seemed to wither in their helplessness. He knew they meant well, showing their concern as only dear friends could. He felt pity for them but he was helpless too, awaiting word with as much clout as a bystander, though he were their son. He sighed.

"I beg you my Lady," said Eristeth mournfully, "when next you see Irisse, please convey that our thoughts are with her." Idril gave a nod and Eristeth turned then to Maeglin. "Forgive our covertness, for we knew not how to glean any news of your mother whom was quite out of sorts when last we saw her."

Maeglin gave a little smile. "I understand," he said. "I am sure by day's end you shall be sated in your knowledge as to my mother's state. Yet I will tell you that she was fine when last I saw her."

"But what about...," uttered Russafinde, but Maeglin held up a hand.

"Nay ladies!" he cried. "I have nothing more to say." He bowed to them both. "Farewell!" With that, Maeglin turned and walked away, arm in arm with Idril Celebrindal.

~oOo~

Aredhel sat in silence, surrounded by the repressive gloom of the Council Chamber. The cosy orange glow of the lamps upon the walls now seemed meagre, oppressed by the dark shadows that stained the light with wide black fingers. The statues stood ominous in their silence and menacing in their bright stares. Aredhel sat facing the stony row of Valier. Their gaze seemed a little softer, as powerful matriarchs of pity looking down upon two children of mischief and chiding them with gentle expressions of rebuke. But the Vala behind were harsh in their starry glares, as mighty lords of dignity who looked on with stern reproach. Aredhel sighed. She should not have chosen to speak with Eol there but it had been nearest at hand.
She thought back to their hard words against each other. Her first thought had been to placate Eol, but what was concealed within his cloak troubled her. Her guesses and foreboding had only revealed what she feared and thereby gave rise to her righteous anger. She looked darkly at the foul weapon that lay upon the table, with its blackened tip that was surely coated with some poisonous failsafe to her son's livelihood. Aredhel had never been so angered, or felt so betrayed. Eol had thought to kill their son! Through the red haze of ire, she had lost all reservation and struck her husband for his evil intent. Aredhel marvelled at her boldness, but she would fight with all she had against any who would harm Maeglin. Even Eol.

Aredhel looked at him. He seemed the very vision of heavy-heartedness enmeshed in the murk of his gloom, hunched over the table with a bowed head. She had never seen him weep. She did not even think it were possible. Yet he had and for long, as if he also wept for other sorrows that lay deep in his misty heart. There was much that Eol had kept hidden about his long life, old secrets and ancient hurts which still tortured him. Indeed he was a strange man, ever wilful and proud, yet vulnerable at a pinch, which could either induce great anger or pitiful sorrow in him. Aredhel had been closest to his lonesome heart, yet ultimately knew little of him. He had spoken of himself at times but there were always long gaps between his tales. Or he would speak only of the now and shunned the past as being of little importance to him or his love for her. She had accepted that. But when she would share her own past with him he had denied her, saying he cared not for tales of her life in Aman, Vinyamar and Gondolin. Only their life under the shadows truly mattered. But now his murderous intent towards Maeglin is what mattered to her. She had pitied Eol's sudden and unexpected show of emotion, and told him she still loved him. That was true enough. Yet she could not forgive the threat upon Maeglin. Perhaps she never would. What that meant for them moving forward, she did not know. But nothing was as yet resolved concerning how the day would end. She had to return to it.

"Eol," Aredhel said softly. He did not stir. "Eol," she said again a little louder. Still he did not answer or move. She sighed. "Eol, we must settle all between us. We must find some compromise to our situation."

"What compromise to my needs should I hope for?" he asked, leaning back as he turned to her. His eyes were ruddy from weeping but his jaw was clenched in renewed defiance. "Your brother has laid his law before me with all but two choices. Either to remain here or to die. The former I cannot endure so I shall seek the latter, both for my honour and for your everlasting shame."

Aredhel winced. Evidently Eol had returned to pride and spite. So it was to be with him in difficulty this day. "Eol, be kind to me please," she urged, leaning forward and putting her hand upon his arm. "Could dwelling here with me and our son be such a blight upon you as to warrant your death the only alternative. Do you hate my people that much?"

"Yes," came his blunt answer.

"You hate my people that much?" she repeated with growing incredulity.

"Yes!" he cried with such venom that Aredhel leaned back, startled. He pulled his arm away from her touch and regarded her with glinting eyes. "Be kind to me you say," he grimaced. "You ask that of me now! I am held by my enemies and bereft of all my freedoms because of you. Where was your kindness when you plotted to leave me? Where was your concern when you passed under the Echoriath, secure in your belief in having thwarted me, being rid of the sight of Eol and his home. I marvel that you can still speak of love between us. Hah! How touching your words would be if they held any truth. But I am no dolt, for only a simpleton would believe such drivel. Yet you mistake me lady if you think I followed you in yearning for your love."

"Nay lord," said Aredhel, her own anger rising again to challenge his. "You followed for vengeance against me with the murder of our son!"

Eol swept forth a vigorous wave of dismissal. "Think what you will of that!" he cried, turning away to the dim shadows. "It matters not. I came hither with death in mind and whether it be my own, my son's or both, then such is the way of it."

Aredhel growled her frustration as she rose to her feet. "Oh you rigid man!" she vented with waving arms. "What would you have me do? If I could return to the day I rode from Nan Elmoth, I would."

"But why begin there," said Eol, still facing the shadows. "Why not return to the day you set out from Gondolin. It would have been a mercy to have never met you."

"That I will never wish for," said Aredhel, her voice breaking with emotion, "as I would have never birthed our son who is the true mercy and blessing for us both." Eol slowly turned to look at her, his grim features lined by chiselled shadows. "Do you not see? Lonely were both our lives. I had suitors, yet to none was my heart inclined. And I wondered at that, for whom was I waiting for? And you dwelt alone with but few servants."
She thought of them now; hunting with Durthor and Gwathanar, and Morphen "The Silent" hammering at the forge. She thought also of Dolwen laying the table and Lumeth "The Dark Eyed" at work about the homestead. They all were grim elves of few words, save Morphen who said nothing at all. Yet Aredhel missed them as they had been her companions for many years, though she had gleaned little of them as they were as secretive as their master.
"However, I know you Eol," Aredhel continued. "I know of your joy in having a wife to share the passing years, just as my heart found what it had long sought in you. But in Maeglin was our content sealed, with love's true blessing made flesh by his birth. And I remember how you took pleasure in rearing him to manhood, and took fatherly pride in teaching him your skill of hand."

"And yet you came between us," said Eol.

Aredhel hesitated. Eol was right, but it were not all her fault. "What came between you and your son lay between you and me," she answered with glistening eyes. "For you were wrong to take a wife whose kindred you would hate. But ever I clung to the hope that you might finally see reason and accept my people because of your love for me. But no! You stubbornly held onto your hatreds and remained faithless to my hope to the very end. But Maeglin did not scorn his mother's people. Nay, he is better than his father in that regard, and that is a solace." Aredhel sighed and faltering in her sorrow, sank back into her chair. She felt tears upon her cheeks which flowed as the wet trails of past wrongs done upon her. "At first, I told Maeglin of my kin with no more intent than to sate his interest. Yet as time passed I realised how much I truly yearned for my people and this city that was built in memory of Tirion upon Tuna. Indeed, I marvelled at how I first wearied of Gondolin, and so was awoken in me a desire greater than ever before to return hither. And in the long musings of the night I argued with myself as to why I was caged by those I loved. I had given you all I possibly could of myself, but now I would return home with my son who was of like mind. Yet my uttermost desire would have been to return with you also, riding the plain of Tumladen as a triumphant trio returning to the honour of Gondolin and its people."

"Now you talk like a child," said Eol grimly, "doting upon a foolish dream." He shook his head. "A triumphant trio returning to honour. Hah!"

Aredhel looked at him defiantly. "Scorn all you may, yet that was my ultimate wish for us."

"Yet your wishes are vain and your desire is cheated," Eol replied. "You must bear the ultimate blame for what has occurred between us Aredhel and I say this not out of malice, but truth. You chose to remain with me and become my wife and I was forthright from the very beginning as to my stance against the Golodhrim. You could have denied me then, but you did not. And after years of having your way with me, you chose to flee back to Gondolin with my son, thinking I would accept that. Yet as you say, you know me. If that is true then you knew I would pursue you. Yet in finding you I too am now ensnared in a cage and you are somewhat revenged. But your confinement differs from mine as there was little to hold you when you dwelt with me. All that withheld you from escape was your so called love. Well what of me? For I am surrounded by a great host, with no hope of escape. Whether I were to endure Gondolin for love of you and Maeglin, or whether I should tire of this city as you tired of Nan Elmoth, my miserable fate is to remain here until my life's end. Tell me then, whose caging is better?"

"Neither," said Aredhel. "for I am against all policies of confinement, be they for the safety of a realm or the certainty of love. But such are the tenets of our fateful decision to love each other."

"And so my decision as all now stands is death," said Eol, almost casually.

"That is unacceptable," returned Aredhel.

"Nay, what is unacceptable are cumbersome words that meander about the same arguments!" cried Eol, rising from his seat in anger. "Come! We have said all that we can to each other. Now comes the judgement and an end to this sorry tale." He turned and strode towards the threshold.

"Eol!" Aredhel cried after him. He halted just short of the door. She was at her wits end, sensing her failure in prying Eol's wisdom loose. His stubborn pride had won the day. Aredhel slowly rose, wearied in emotion and desperate in anguish of heart. "Whatever you may say to Turgon, I would ask...nay, I demand this last thing of you." Eol turned back to her and stood as a dark figure in the shadows, save his glinting eyes. But Aredhel was not daunted. "Let your words henceforth speak to this fact. You may owe me nothing and you may choose to owe yourself nothing, but you owe our son. You owe Maeglin. Remember that!"

Eol stood silent for a moment before turning to open the door. The light of the hall brightened the council room as a rush of keen air swept in. Aredhel closed her eyes to it and breathed deeply. She had tried, but she had failed. There was nothing more to do but let fate decide her family's future. It looked bleak and hopeless but she had no more expectations. She would let the pieces fall where they may. Her gaze went to the dart upon the table and she regarded it with faint disgust before hesitantly reaching for it. She did not want to touch the vile thing but it was dire evidence of Eol's evil intent. She had to destroy it. Swiftly she picked it up, holding it with revulsion. Then she drew herself forward with effort, for a weariness came over her again. She went to the open door and there caught Turgon's clear voice ordering Eldacalwe to seek Idril and Maeglin and bring them back to the hall. At his name a vision of her son's handsome face filled her mind's eye. She looked down at the dart. "My beautiful child," she muttered tearfully as she hid the weapon within the inner linings of her dress. "My poor beautiful child."

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Author's Commentary:

Nothing to say except I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.

Thanx!