Of Eol & Aredhel by gamil-zirak

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Chapter 4

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OF EOL AND AREDHEL

OF EOL AND AREDHEL

Chapter Four...

Maeglin passed over the sunlit square with a sense of ease and pleasure in the company of Idril who walked beside him. Lords and ladies gave solemn nods or curtly bowed to them as they passed by, and each greeting was answered by a gracious smile from Idril. Maeglin still felt awkward by the nobilities courtesy as he did not feel regal enough to deserve it. He stiffened in his discomfort but felt Idril's arm that was locked about his, tighten and pull him close.
"It is all right cousin," she said softly. "Just the mere courtesies of a fair morning in Ondolinde."

Maeglin took in her warm smile and the sparkle of her starry eyes. He marvelled at how the sight of her reassured him. He was a prince about to receive a great royal inheritance, which was yet threatened by grave household quarrels. But Idril, with her faultless grace and impervious dignity was by his side to comfort and guide him. That was more than enough.
"I do not know what to do with myself before their polite scrutiny," he said in an effort to explain himself. "Everyone sees me as an heir to the house of Turgon yet so much lies still in doubt." He stopped and turned to the white palace behind them, shining bright in all its glorious magnificence. The flowery greenery of the upper floors flashed their colourful hues in the sunlight, waving a luxurious sense of royal comfort in the keen airs. The high balustraded balconies, the glistening windows, all woven into the immaculate craftmanship of Noldorin stonemasonary. The exquisite sight made Maeglin all the more sorrowful that he might be forced to leave it. "I wonder what my father and mother are saying to each other," he said softly, as his mind conjured troubled thoughts about his parents.

Idril gave a soft tug at his arm that brought his attention back to her. "Come, let us sit awhile," she said, motioning to the purple cushions of a recess carven in the western shelf of the square that lay a little way ahead of them. Maeglin sighed as he was led by the hand to where they both settled down with the light of the sun in their faces and the Square of the King sprawling before them. "I must apologize for Eristeth and Russafinde," said Idril after a while. "It was only a show of concern for their dear friend."

"I know it well," replied Maeglin. "And I share their concern as my mother and father have been away too long. What heated arguments that now pass between them fill me with fear." He turned to look at Idril. "You must think us a strange family."

Idril smiled. "I will not deny it," she replied, looking back at him. "But I think there is more to fathom about this grave matter."

"What do you mean?" said Maeglin with a perplexed look.

"I will speak plainly and hope you will not take offence," she replied.

"You could never offend me," said Maeglin, "for in your words lies wisdom, and you are a comfort to me. Gladly would I hear what you have to say."

Idril smiled again. "You flatter me, cousin," she said. "Therefore let me tell you what I see to be the situation." She looked away, towards the palace and her face became grave. "When your father came to stand before us, I felt the darkness that came with him. Yet it was more than his anger. It was something else, remote yet potent, with him and yet not of him. A black will of epic design maybe that sought to cause great harm to Ondolinde and its people." Maeglin blanched a little at her dark words and it seemed to him as if the sun's warmth chilled and its radiance faltered about them. Idril turned back to him and gently took his hand in her own. "What I felt filled me with dread, seeing Eol stand before us, bristling with anger and dark intent. And that dark will threatened to burst forth in an act of sudden rashness to grievous result. But the darkness was vanquished by a single word. Wait! That is what your mother cried, and yet at her command my dread was lifted. And even upon Eol your father, the shadow that lay upon him was gone. Therefore I am certain an evil turn has somehow been averted and my heart feels no trace of it. So do not be troubled cousin, for though all is not yet settled, the day's outcome shall not be ill for you or your family."

Maeglin looked to the shining palace, gleaming with purity and hopeful design that he would gladly partake were it not for the darkness of Eol's purpose. How he wished his father had not found them, to dim his joy and thwart the relishing prospect of becoming a great prince of the realm. Yet Idril's hopeful words comforted him, and though she knew not Eol as he did, somehow her words rang true. He looked at her smiling face and grinned.

"I hear you," he said with a soft nod. "I shall not despair but will hope as you do. Perhaps my father will forgive us, and that he may well do for my mother's sake as he loved her dearly."

"I do not doubt it," said Idril. "Yet it may be his love for you that decides all."

Maeglin sighed wistfully as he thought of his bond with Eol that had faltered as the years passed. They had been close and Eol had taken great pride in his son, seeing himself in Maeglin's natural talents in his craft. They had journeyed many times to the dwarven halls of Nogrod, and once to Belegost, delighting in the dwarven teachings and friendships they had made. And in the shadows of Nan Elmoth, Eol had spoken to him of a far past of starlit peace, and taught him the histories of the Sindar and their customs.

"You are a scion of those people," Eol would say after a day's toil at the forge. "We are the greatest of the elvish peoples of Beleriand for we are of this land. We who tended its forests and shaped its landscapes for years uncounted. We who still follow the ancient elvish customs that are untainted by the lofty doctrines and misty designs of the Vala. For the Golodhrim forget that we as elves are not of the Ainur and so did not awaken in Aman. Middle-earth is our long home and the Sindar and Silvan elves are its masters. Remember that! The newcomers would cheapen us with their pride and disdain. Fools! They lived too long with Powers they do not understand, basking in a glory not of their own making. But we have stayed true to Eru Allfather's original intent, and here have built earthy delights of our own design. For Menegroth is our Tirion yet more, for it lies in the lands of our awakening. Therefore have pride in your father's people my son, for we are indeed greater than you know."

Such were Eol's words to him as he grew to manhood and he had taken them to heart, until by sheer curiosity he had begun to question his mother about the Noldor. Soon her musings began to move him the more they spoke together, for her words were not stern but filled with melancholy for a light now dimly recalled. A light filled with majesty, nobility and high purpose. And Maeglin would look at his shadowy surroundings that spoke of a life of meagre means. Content as he had been, he realised he could be so much more. But Eol could not understand that his son was not of the Sindar only, but of the Noldor also. He was a child of both the Twilight and the Dawn.

"Maeglin," came a soft voice.

"My thoughts were well away," he said, turning to his cousin. "Memories of my father and I when naught stood between us,"

"You were close to him?" said Idril.

"Yes," Maeglin replied with a sigh. "He taught me to cherish the pride of the Sindar, and I do not forget that side of me...and yet,"

"Yet you are of the Noldor also," Idril finished. Maeglin gave a nod. "I understand," she continued. "Indeed, it seems strange that Aredhel and Eol were drawn together. Yet stranger still is the fate of the Noldor in Middle-earth and many Sindar are drawn into it by unforeseen means." She sighed. "Our own past is dogged by a darkness from which we are not free and yet of which many choose to forget. But not I. Nay, I am ever mindful of our past deeds that had us come to this land, and yet for all the happiness we have cultivated, I am filled with caution. But even so, hope is ever at my core, and today it were renewed against all odds." She pressed Maeglin's hand. "Therefore I say again, fear not cousin, for I deem all shall turn out well for you and I both. And that gladdens me as I should be sorry to lose my newfound cousin. But know that whatever trials we might face, I will be at your side, now and in all the days of our abiding in Ondolinde."

Maeglin's smile brightened, yet at that moment a guard came towards them from the palace and they both turned to his approach. He bowed before them. "Lady Idril, my lord, your presence is requested within the King's Hall."

A shadow swept over Maeglin's newfound hope. "Are my mother and father returned?" he asked.

"They are, my lord."

"Very well, we shall come." said Idril.

He bowed again and turned away. Idril turned to Maeglin's distressed form. "I...I am not ready," he stammered.

"By your side, now and always," she reassured.

Maeglin looked at her again, taking strength from her solemn assurance and wise words. He marvelled at his good fortune to have such a cousin. He would put all his trust in her. "Now and always," he said.

They rose and hand in hand, made their way with purposeful steps towards the palace.

~oOo~

Aredhel stood a moment by the Council Chamber door, surveying the throne room with wearied eyes. Turgon sat upon his throne with his piercing glance set upon Eol who stood where he had before. She could see Eldacalwe's receding form reach the main threshold of the hall and disappear from sight into the light of day outside. How she wished for light. How she wished to feel the sun's warmth upon her face and have the innocent chirping of birds in her ear. She could see herself there, smiling in the cool morning breeze with a renewed sense of purpose, being home again after a long exile. But no, she was trapped within the dim recesses of an emotional turmoil and withered by fearful musings on what should happen next for her family.

What did Eol plan to say or do? Their talk had ultimately resolved nothing. Eol was still intent upon defying Turgon which could only lead to his demise, be it in the dungeons below that lay encased within the ponderous stone of Amon Gwareth, or by death. She would not let herself entertain the thought and as such, forced herself forward, walking a little unsteadily towards the base of the king's dais. She had reached the bottom step when Eldacalwe reappeared, striding back from the light and soon after came Maeglin and Idril. Aredhel's composure softened a little, for she saw that they walked hand in hand. She could have wept, seeing her brother's daughter give her undeniable support to her son. That was something. She turned her sight to Eol, but his gaze was fixed upon Turgon, blazing with challenge and defiant resolve. She felt weak and emotionally helpless, and all but wanted this sorry tale to end. Yet it could not, not until the final chapter were resolved. The ultimate climax to her fateful decision to leave Gondolin. She would not regret that choice for Maeglin's sake, and yet part of her did...for Eol's.

She looked up at Turgon and saw his hand slowly curl about his staff, and it felt as if all her hopes, her happiness and content were slipping away. Sliding into the hands of two opposing wills, that of a King and of a Husband. The thought brought a pang of bitterness and even anger. "Men!" came the notion. "Should such as these rule my fate? To curb my wings that I should not freely soar unshackled from their pride and folly." Her face darkened, yet a softer voice echoed back to her. "Maybe not, yet much blame rests upon you and for wilfulness and desire, you also must share the blame."Aredhel sighed, knowing and accepting the truth of it.

Thus they all stood before the throne of Turgon, with Eol before the dais, dark and defiant. Maeglin and Idril stood to his left and Aredhel was to Eol's right, with head forlornly bowed and both hands clasped before her. Eldacalwe stood tall and stern behind Eol in readiness for any rash act that could ensue.

Turgon eyed Eol a moment then turned to his sister. She felt his gaze upon her but did not raise her eyes to meet his. She was defeated and would therefore defer all to his keeping. He seemed to realise this and so turned back to Eol.
"Well, Eol of Nan Elmoth," he began. "You have spoken with your wife and are now returned. My judgement still stands that you will either abide indefinately in Ondolinde or die here. What say you to my decree?"

A silence fell that had Aredhel raise her eyes. Eol's face was dark with anger and his eyes blazed in their returned stare at the king. Aredhel felt herself tremble in fear and anticipation to his reply. That soon came and it offered no hope to her.

"I deny your decree as it denies me," he said bluntly.

Turgon gave a nod, as if acknowledging what he had already surmised. Of course it were so, thought Aredhel. What wise man would think otherwise, that a proud elf such as Eol could have pity on her and curb himself to her desperate need for peace. She had had a fools hope but not her brother, and it irked her that he was right. Now all were in the King's hands and his next words would rule her family's fate forever. And even now Turgon lift his rod from the iron clutch of the talons that held it, readying to bring it down with a dint of doom.

"However, I would have you hear my own say on this matter," came Eol's words.

Turgon paused and Aredhel, Maeglin and Idril looked at him in their surprise. Turgon slowly lowered the rod, eyeing Eol intently, and Aredhel gazed at her husband, utterly confused.
"Very well," said Turgon after a moment. "I will hear you."

Eol grimaced. "Upon my arrival I have been all but mistreated by your people. I was withheld in fetters and treated with disdain by your servants at the Gates. I were then shamefully forced to traverse the long miles to the city on foot whilst tethered to one of your guard. No welcome or honour in being the husband to the King's sister did I receive. And coming before the throne, the King laid his law upon me that I should be held captive until the end of my days, or die if I refused. How should I endure such an affront?" He turned his searing gaze to Maeglin and Idril and then to Aredhel who averted her eyes. He turned back to Turgon who remained steadfast to his stern words. "Yet I am no lowly vagabond who happened upon the Hidden Way in his adventurous inquisitiveness. Nay, I am a lord of the Sindar who governs his own realm as you govern yours. More respect should have been afforded me, even were I not husband to your sister."

"And more may have been afforded you had your mood been fairer towards my people," said Turgon.

Eol's brow darkened at that. "I might have loved the Golodhrim better were it not for your senseless pride and black deeds. Dark elves you call us, being a crude people in your estimation who are blind to the wonders of the Valar and their great wisdom. Yet why did you and your people return hither, turning your backs on the enlightenment of Aman?" Eol smirked. "You see yourselves as better than us? You who wilfully defied your Valinorean masters and treated the Blessed Realm with disdain, as arrogant children who lash out foolishly against the wisdom of their elders. Ah! And yet your dark deeds followed you even here, a blemish worse than any the Moriquendi could ever be accused of. For did you not slay my own kindred who followed you across the sea? Were it not orc work done even in the Blessed Realm! Yet you returned to Middle-earth to flaunt your self importance to we who remained faithful and untarnished. Nay! My disdain for you and yours is justified and even the Valar would agree. For have they not abandoned and cursed you all for your fell deeds!"

Now it were Turgon's turn to darken and he shifted angrily in his high seat. But Eol's smirk broadened as he knew his words had hit the mark. And to Aredhel it seemed each word Eol uttered smote her with a dint of hatred that sought to tarnish her people. He relished his theatre, goading the king relentlessly to anger, such as one who gave no more thought to preservation before his judge, but only sought to sate his wounded pride with menacing words ere he received a stern sentence. Aredhel sighed. She had tried all she could to no avail. This was Eol's moment before his fall. She could do no more to save him from himself.

"And so coming before you," Eol continued, "you commanded me to bow to your Golodhrim pride, giving up my wife, my son and my freedom to your power. Well, such is the way of it, yet it is strange as only in Angband should such a dire fate be realised for one ensnared by the power of Morgoth. But to see it done in Gondolin too!"

Eldacalwe murmured behind Eol and Aredhel groaned inwardly but Turgon held up a silencing hand. Eol, however continued undetered. "So here I stand, bereft of all that I love and stripped of all that is my right. However, as resigned to my fate as I might be, still, I am no fool. I cannot challenge the power that seeks to imprison me, yet neither will I wither before it in defeat. For I am proud also, even before a King of Elves! Therefore, as you have given me terms to live by henceforth, which I utterly reject, I rather have two choices that I shall put to you."

Aredhel stared intently at her husband. This was unexpected. He had two choices!

"And so hear me O' king!" said he. "Your sister is returned to you after many years in which you thought her lost, yet I had her in my keeping as my wife. Now I will concede that I am at fault as seen within the Laws of the Eldar, to have taken Aredhel as my bride without the consent of her kin. And though no word or gift could I have sent to you who lie hidden, at the very least I could have sent word to her father, Fingolfin in Hithlum. But here I stand before her brother with that debt as yet unpaid. And indeed, though we are estranged, I cannot discount the years of marriage we shared, nor the son she bore, and so I am still honour bound to pay that debt. Therefore, what could I give of myself that could be set as brideprice for Aredhel's hand, late though it is in the coming?"

Aredhel's head swam. What was Eol saying? The words consent and brideprice came to mind, yet she could not be sure. She could not understand why Eol had said these words, or if he had said them at all. Before she could rectify her confusion, Eol continued.

"For one hundred and twenty years I kept Aredhel beloved and safe until she betrayed our union. Be that as it may, I should still honour the rites of marriage. Now you commanded that I should remain in Gondolin until my life's end, yet that is something I cannot possibly do. I refuse not only for pride, but in that my very heart should be broken and I should soon wither and fail, whether I walk free within your bounds or languish in your dungeons. You ask for more than I can give, be it by my will or my spirit. Therefore I submit to you that as brideprice for taking your sister to wife, and as my own capitulation to your stern law, I say that I would elect to remain in your realm for sixty years, half the time Aredhel spent with me. In all that sentence I shall be honour bound to remain faithfully in your land with no thought or attempt at escape. However, when those sixty years are passed you shall let me return to my own lands, whether your law wills it or no.
But if you will not accept my offer to humble myself to your pride and rule, then the second choice is this. That you carry out your law and have me slain this very day. And if you do this, then gladly shall I receive that death, for then I shall know that the Golodhrim truly deserved my hatred, and my spilt blood should curse this land, and that blight should forever cast a shadow over all your counsels hereafter!"

Aredhel felt herself sag where she stood, and it took all her ailing strength to remain upright. Her eyes stared blankly at Eol, her mind in a turmoil of confusion. What Eol had just proposed was impossible. Yet his words clearly came back to her. "I should still honour the rites of marriage," echoed an utterance, "I would elect to remain in your realm for sixty years," came another, "I shall be honour bound to remain faithfully in your land with no thought or attempt at escape," voiced the words that threatened to floor her. Aredhel began to tremble and she bowed her head, taking deep breaths as she strove to steady herself.

But how could Eol give her hope. Not after their harsh words to one another. Not after her long knowledge of his hate for the Noldor. Yet he had somehow uttered what she now fearfully recalled, thinking it were a phantom of hopeful imaginations. For they were words spoken by the Eol of her blissful imagining. Yet she was sure she had heard right. Eol had offered to stay. He had relented to her will, or perhaps...Yes that was it. He had relented for their son. She almost broke out in wild laughter at the notion of placing Eol and relent within the same thought. But even so a notion rose to tarnish her incredulous hope. Turgon had not answered. Would he accept Eol's terms? She raised her head unsteadily to eye her brother and the spark of hope flared as she looked at him. For Turgon was not Fingolfin or Fingon, being less proud and wilful. Surely his wisdom and mercy would guide him to make the right choice. At that moment Turgon shifted in his seat, and then he spoke.

"Your words are proud," he said with flashing grey eyes that evidenced his stern mood, "and all the more crafty as you seek to circumvent my law under the guise of honour in acknowledging the rite of brideprice for my sister."

"Take my words as you will," Eol replied, "yet I am sincere."

Turgon grimaced and slowly shook his head. "An exchange of sixty years for a lifetime is nothing but a blink of an eye in the life of the Eldar. I might as well set you loose now as that would be no different to the years you have given for your abiding here."

"So it may seem," said Eol. "Yet if you knew me you would understand the heftiness of my sacrifice. For what is forty years to a prisoner who languishes in the darkness of Angband and is set to toil each miserable year in unbearable torture of both body and mind. Nay, you do not understand what I am giving of myself to offer you such a concession. For each year, each week, each day shall be as a grim test of endurance to my fallen spirit. Sixty years! Nay, say rather six hundred years shall it seem for me."

"And what if I grant neither choice to you." said Turgon darkly. "I could have you sent to my dungeons, granting you neither eventual freedom nor a swift death!"

Eol smiled hatefully. "Yet death you would still grant me as I would starve myself in protest, cursing you and your kingdom with all the hatred my grim spirit could muster until the day I should wilt and die. And may my death haunt you and yours for all eternity!"

"Do you speak so as to daunt me?" said the king. "For you are too lowly in my esteem for me to care."

"I merely tell you my truth," Eol replied. "And I care not for the esteem of kinslayers!" he added with venom. "But come! Enough weighing has been done. What say you to my terms?"

A potent silence fell upon the hall, with all but the watery rush of Ulmo's fountain that still spoke. Aredhel felt as if she were in a daze. She had gone from lowly despair to the thrill of an almost unbridled hope. It were an agony for her to remain composed and silent. She still could hardly believe what had happened. Eol, of his own free will had submitted to the power of Gondolin. She could not begin to picture the scenario as moments ago it had been so alien an outcome. Eol had offered to stay without thought of escape! The thought threatened to overwhelm her yet again but it were tearfully grateful emotions that welled through her moist eyes. And though Aredhel knew that Turgon had not yet given his answer, that did not matter. What mattered were that Eol had relented, moved by some great mercy for her and for Maeglin.

She looked at him now. His face was grim, his eyes aflame, his fists clutched by his sides and his legs splayed apart in what seemed the very portrait of brooding defiance. Yet he had swallowed his pride and doused the heat of his fiery hatred...for Maeglin. Aredhel turned her gaze to her son now and saw by his own expression that he was as dumbfounded as she. But Idril stood beside him, clutching Maeglin's arm in gentle support. Her expression was calm as she looked at him with reassurring eyes. Then Aredhel almost turned to her brother but stopped herself. She could not look at him with pleading eyes to grant Eol his wish. Turgon was king and his decisions ruled all. But in this matter, Aredhel knew she should not attempt to influence her brother's choice, not with a desperate look nor an uttered plea. Both men had to find a solution they could live by with no interference from which could later arise blame. And Aredhel knew and trusted her brother. For though Eol had taunted and goaded Turgon, and done this in the king's own hall, she knew that his wisdom for which he was famed should steer all aright. She had to believe it were so and Turgon had never failed her. Even as she thought this, she saw through the corner of her eye that the king turned his gaze toward her. But Aredhel held her own sight towards Maeglin who in turn looked to Turgon with vague desperation.

Finally the King sighed and turned to meet Eol's gaze. "A dark elf you truly are," he said. "Dark of mind and purpose. That much is easily read in you. And your ready hatred for my people galls me and leads me to wonder how and why my sister took you for her husband. I should think you might have wed her by force and if I knew it were so, then all the wrath of the Noldor should be visited upon you this day. Yet Aredhel denies any wrong-doing on your part, and knowing her I might understand how she could come to accept even you. For she has always rebelled against wisdom, being chiefly driven by a fiery passion that is both a strength and folly of her character. I deem the very mystery of you, dwelling within the dim halls of Nan Elmoth excited her. For you were something new and unexpected, and that is ultimately what she sought when she decided to leave the wearisome safety of Ondolinde."
He turned then to Aredhel but his face held a sadness in it. "Yet excitement fades and raw passions ebb through time my sister, and the price for those fleeting infirmities may indeed be hard to pay. And so we are come to this very day of payment Irisse. Yet it is I and not you who must atone for your indiscretions. For before me stands an elf who unapologetically holds a seething contempt for my people. This is the husband you have brought before my throne and yet he demands that I set him free, going against the stern law that all who live in my realm abide by. What wise king would do such a thing?"

Turgon turned to look at his daughter and the face of Maeglin. He sighed again and brought his gaze to Eol. "You flaunt well your sense of entitlement because of your marriage, hoping to cow me to your purpose. And I deem your ultimate resolve is to receive death from those you hate, and from those whom you deem love you no more. Yet in truth I do not see it so. For Irisse your wife and Maeglin your son do not want you dead. And I who am king do not want to see your insolence punished. We are all fallen here, the Noldor by our past deeds and you...well there is more to your tale than meets the eye, that is plain. Yet I cannot fathom it and maybe never will. But I cannot ignore it. And I feel some strange sense in the air. We all stand upon a knife edge of doom, the result of which rests on my choice for good or for ill that is beyond your purpose or mine."

Turgon leaned back into his seat, his face stern yet thoughtful. Eol's face had changed too, for his smirk was gone and his fiery eyes were dimmed. It were as if the king's words now troubled him. As for Aredhel, she dipped her gaze to the floor, being moved by her brother's potent words. Many thoughts passed through her mind. Remorse, sadness and hope. She looked at Eol. His head was bowed, his shoulders sagged, his face dimmed and his hands unclenched. He seemed the very vision of weariness of body and spirit. Yet even so he raised his quenched eyes to the king.

"You know nothing of me," Eol said in a thick voice.

"Indeed, I do not," Turgon replied. He paused then, looking intently at the strange man glowering mournfully before him. After a moment he nodded to himself and sat up. "Here then is my word!" he said in a loud voice that had everyone look to him. "Sixty years you have given Eol of Nan Elmoth, therefore sixty years I shall take as brideprice for the hand of Irisse my sister. In that time you shall dwell in Ondolinde as guest of the king's household. Yet when those years have past, you shall be free to return to your land."

All looked at Turgon in silent amazement. Then Idril turned to Maeglin and put her arms about him in a warm embrace. Aredhel sagged and felt the tears of emotional release well in her glistening eyes. It was done! What she had dreamed beyond her wildest imaginings had come to fruition. Part of her still could not believe or accept it, but through a dismal trial both Eol and Turgon had reached an understanding. Aredhel raised her face to look at the ornate traceries that were carven upon the ceiling of the hall, closing her eyes as she sighed out her relief. She put a hand to her breast and felt the hard length of the hidden dart tucked within the folds of her dress. That halted her feeling of exultation. This was the weapon meant to murder her son. But it also represented his salvation, she thought. For it were Eol's remorse that had him opt for a solution. He would forego his freedom for a time and endure dwelling with her people as a matter of penance for the evil he almost committed. She still could not fathom seeing him walk the streets of Gondolin. And yet he was giving up more, she realised. He was giving up the shadows and the twilight. Would he wither in the light? Nay, she could not think of that, not yet. Now she would enjoy her relief. Aredhel's inner revelry was paused by the approach of Maeglin who came with open arms and a wide smile. He embraced his mother, whispering in her ear. "I can stay mother, I can stay!" She smiled warmly as she cupped her son's beaming face in her hands.

"Yes my son!" she breathed. "Here shall you know your mother's people in bliss." She kissed his cheek and held him close, looking over his shoulder to Idril who mirrored her smile and gently bowed her golden head.

At that moment, Eol looked up at the king. "So be it!" he said. Yet there was something in his tone that dampened the spirits of those rejoicing. Idril's smile faded and Aredhel and Maeglin slowly released each other and turned to him.

Turgon who had sat back in his high seat watching all with an intent eye, now straightened. "Is there more to be said?" he asked.

"Just this," said Eol. "I accept your decree but for one point."

The king sighed again. "Well?"

"I shall indeed remain in your realm for the time alloted, yet when I depart I shall not go alone. For I will only agree to stay if my son leaves with me!"

The hall was silent again with only the splashing waters of the fountain playing in the ear. Turgon said nothing but turned to look at Aredhel and Maeglin. The pair stood aghast, staring at one another with wide pained eyes. "So," thought Aredhel. "Eol is revenged at last." She had been a fool to think she could gain all she desired when he had lost everything. He would obviously have one more play up his sleeve. Maeglin's face contorted in pained realisation.

"Mother?!" he said, taking a step back. Aredhel opened her mouth but no words were forthcoming. What could she do or say. She had no more fight left and knew Eol would never relent to her pleas; he had given up too much already. Yet it seemed as if Maeglin understood for his countenance changed. His face became solemn and he drew himself up and turned to his father. There was a rumour of a scowl upon Eol's face yet his eyes were still quenched. "The mean last act of a defeated man," thought Aredhel in bitterness.

"Well!" said Eol to Maeglin. "You wanted to know your mother's people and you shall, but you will return to the realm from whence you came. Give your father your solemn word on this or are you truly an ill-gotten welp who would defy his father's command and see him slain for it?"

Maeglin looked Eol dead in the eye. His face was dark and his eyes gleamed sharply. A flickering moment passed between them. "I consent to your will father," said Maeglin at last. "When forty years are passed I shall return with you to Nan Elmoth. You have my solemn oath upon it." With that, Maeglin spoke no more but strode the full length of the hall and disappeared into the light of the threshold. Idril went after him.

Eol then turned to Aredhel. "Thus you have won the day, lady," he said sneeringly. "Yet blame me not! For do not think I could endure all the dismal years set before me without some form of recompense."

Aredhel stared at him. She wanted to hate him in earnest. She could uncover Eol's attempted crime to the king and prove his guilt with the concealed weapon and be rid of his vindictive personage. Her vengeful anger was fleeting however and passed as swiftly as it had come. For Aredhel was weary and Turgon had spoken truly about a price to pay. She could not have it all...she did not deserve it all. It was enough to see the day end with the prospect of a future laid before her family. "Maeglin has given his word and I for my part shall abide by it," she answered.

"We shall see," said Eol with a dark look.

"You play hard to the very end, Eol," said Turgon.

"I play fair," he replied.

"Then I hope you shall be fair with me," said Turgon. "For you too do not know what I am giving of myself to assent to your release by going against my stern law that none should leave who have entered the Hidden Way."

"Yet my word is my bond," said Eol, "I for my part shall not fail it."

"To that I too say we shall see!" the king replied. He turned to Eldacalwe. "Take Eol and house him as an honoured guest." To Eol he said, "You have journeyed far with little food and drink. I pray you will accept the hospitality of the palace." Eol looked away but nodded his assent. "Very well," said Turgon, and gave a nod to Eldacalwe who led Eol up the rich stairway to the upper floors. Soon it were only he and Aredhel left and Turgon rose from his throne and stepped down to stand before her. She looked at her brother with tears streaming down her pale face. Turgon smiled faintly as he brushed away a glistening trail upon her cheek.

"Thank you, my beloved wise brother," said Aredhel. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..." She fell into his arms, clutching him tightly with her ailing strength until she fell into an abyss of utter weariness of spirit and knew no more.

~oOo~

Maeglin's eyes blinked tearily with anger and bright sunlight as he passed down the broad stairway which led to the king's hall. He was furious and helpless. Furious at his father for denying him his ultimate happiness and helpless because he had given his oath to lose it. Maeglin chided himself for not seeing Eol's plan beforehand, yet even had he known, there was probably nothing he could have done. He would be chained to Eol's leash forever, doomed to live in the shadows he now hated. It was early noon, and the square was teeming with elegant ladies and noble lords, milling about at their leisure. The trees whispered, the birds twittered among their slender boughs, and the towering fountains sparkled their watery delight. A dark wave came over Maeglin as he walked, and he swore under his breath for he now hated Gondolin. He hated the light, the people, the beauty, everything. For he would soon be forced to leave it. He heard gay laughter and merry voices all about him, and some called to him in greeting. But he ignored them all. And why not. Whom should he seek to know and befriend. Nothing mattered here as he were soon bound to leave it all behind. The great city, its wonderful people, his princely title and the high honour that came with it. The sad thought almost broke his heart, so much so that he halted and clutched at his chest, feeling a rising ache.

"Maeglin!" came a familiar voice that brought only more pain to his stricken heart. He reluctantly turned about to face her. And so she came, gliding across the lawn that glistened with spray. She reached him and clutched his arms, regarding him with deep concern. Maeglin bowed his head, refusing to look at her but Idril cupped his face and forced his tearful sight to her own. Then wordlessly she embraced him and for a moment, Maeglin thought he would weep. Yet he was no child, and the tears that threatened to fall irked him. He broke away from her and turned aside with a swift swipe of a sleeve across his blinking eyes.

"Sixty years!" he cried. "All I have is sixty years."

Idril looked at him with pain and placed a soothing hand upon his shoulder. "It is hard I know," she said softly.

"You know?" said Maeglin, a little sharply. "What do you know? You the noble lady of Gondolin who is surrounded by the light and beauty of the city. You to whom all love and praise of a great people is given. What do you know of loneliness and meagre means. What do you know of sparse days and hushed nights. What do you know of longing for better, only to receive it and yet loose it ere you could partake of it. What do you know?"

She looked at him sadly, and her hand left his shoulder as she bowed her head. "Maybe I cannot truly fathom your heart's pain but I understand the grief and hardship of sparse days and dismal nights. I who traversed the terror of the Helcaraxe, and suffered the pain and loss upon that dark road. Yet ever I held hope, even when it were deemed a folly. And so our people passed through that trial." She looked up and Maeglin was sorry, for there were tears upon her beautiful face. "And as you grieve so do I. Yet hope is not lost on me, and much may yet occur in sixty years that could change counsels to your betterment."

Maeglin sighed. His anger was fading and he felt remorseful for his heated display for her solemn words as ever, moved him. "I am sorry," he said. "Forgive the outburst as my frustrations got the better of me."

Idril smiled away her tears. "You have every right to be angered, but you have even more cause to be hopeful. Soon you shall realise this."

Maeglin frowned a little. "I do not see it. My father will never release me. He braved the evil road of Nan Dungortheb and shall endure the light of the Noldor which he deeply hates, all so as to retain his grasp upon me. He will never give me up."

"Indeed," said Idril. "Yet in doing so has he not given something of himself also? That he should endure the light and the people he hates. Would you have thought it possible? Yet he is here and shall live among us for a while. That is truly something!"

Maeglin's frown deepened. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Idril's smile broadened. "It is the beginning of a thaw," she said, grasping his arm and leading him down the great highway.

~oOo~

Aredhel slowly opened her eyes. They felt heavy as did her limbs, yet with each passing moment her spirits lightened and she casually gave a contented sigh. She took in her surroundings and found that she lay in her bed. The window to her right, which looked over the great square was wide open and a fresh breeze carrying nature's sweet scents breathed in, meandering about her room and clearing her head. The light of afternoon shone golden and was warm and comfortable to her renewed senses. She closed her eyes and indulged in the sweet peace for a gentle moment. Then slowly she became aware of the day's events. Her easy smile faded and she opened her eyes again.

"Are you rested?" came her brother's voice.

Aredhel turned to it. Turgon was sat beside the left side of her bed. He seemed at ease, leaning back in the chair with his legs folded as well as his arms. His head was bereft of its crown and his brow held no circlet. His raven dark hair shone in the sunlight as it fell in wavy strands about his smiling face. All traces of the king were gone. Here once again, sat her brother.

Aredhel returned his smile. "How long have I slept?"

"Not long," he replied. "An hour at most."

Aredhel turned her head to the ceiling. "It has been a trying day," she breathed.

"Indeed it has," said Turgon. "Yet its outcome has surely been to your liking."

Aredhel closed her eyes in silent gratitude. "Is he all right?" she asked.

"He broods in his room," said Turgon. "I gave him one of the best in the palace. The guards tell me he has washed and eaten..."

"The guards?" said Aredhel, her eyes flashing wide as she turned her head sharply.

Turgon nodded. "I have been accomodating this day, but I have my limits. He may have given his word but he has not earned my blind trust."

Aredhel sighed. She did not know how to proceed in this situation. She still could not truly believe that Eol was a guest in Gondolin. She thought of her life in Nan Elmoth and how far removed they both had been from this turn. But here they were, now dwelling in the Hidden Kingdom of their own free will. For her it was a return home, but for Eol...

"Where is Maeglin?" she asked.

"He is about the city, but do not worry for Idril is with him."

Aredhel felt a little at ease. "That is well," she said. "It is good that he has her companionship."

"Yes," said Turgon. "It seems they have swiftly grown close and if any could quell his mood besides you, it would be her. You need not worry about your son."

Aredhel smiled and brought an open hand from under her covers. Turgon leaned forward to hold it. "Thank you brother," she said again. "You will never truly know how grateful I am for the decision you made this day. I still cannot fathom how you relented to Eol. Please tell me why?"

Turgon looked at her for a moment then let go of her hand and sat back thoughtfully. "In truth, I do not understand it myself. But then there is little that makes sense in this matter. What made you cleave to such a man Irisse? I know you always went your own way in thought and deed, but to take a husband such as he."

"And why not?" said Aredhel, a little annoyed. "Should I have wed safe when that was never my way? There were none in Ondolinde who moved me so, that you know well. And I could not force myself to love. Whom of the Eldar have ever done so? And even when I first met Eol, I felt nothing but gratitude in his rescuing of me. Yet as time passed my feelings changed in a manner I had never known. It were a great passion for us both. Maybe it is the folly father always alluded to. For what princess of the Noldor should harbour manly desires and pursuits. "Hunting and reveling in the company of men are not for you," father would always say, expecting to tame me. Yet it is the strength and hardihood of the House of Finwe that resides in me. A fearlessness that cannot be cowed. Is that not the pride of our people?"

"Yet look at the folly of our deeds that brought us to Middle-earth," said Turgon. "Such also is the wilfulness of the Noldor."

"Then such is in me and you," she replied. "Of all men I ever knew I fell in love with Eol, and I do not regret it. He understood me and my passions and they became one with his own. I loved the thrill of living in that strange land with this strange man. I could neither fight my feelings nor deny them. I might go so far as to say we were fated for each other. And though such a pairing might have been doomed to go awry, we would not be the first. For Indis and Nerdanel wed for a love that did not end well. And blame as they may the deeds of Finwe and Feanaro that estranged them, they would not deny the truth of the love they shared. And if Finwe had not wed Indis, you and I should not be."

Turgon looked at her solemnly and finally nodded in defeat. He sighed and clasped her hand again. Aredhel watched him for a moment. He seemed a little haggard, wearied from confrontations and deep thought. It pained her that her deeds should make him so. Yet she needed her question answered.

"I have to know brother," she said softly. "Tell me why you spared Eol, and why you agreed to let him leave when you have granted such to no other."

"I let you leave," he replied with a weary grin.

"Because I am your sister," she countered. "If you could not trust me with your secrets then whom would you trust. But Eol lives to hate our people. What made you relent?"

Turgon leaned back again. "I do not know for sure. There is more to him than meets the eye, for good and for ill. Yet I do not think the ill in him is evil. There is a festering sadness that speaks to some distant sorrow. Perhaps that is why he chose to live apart from others of his people, and why he is so grim in mood. Yet he is noble and that is a truth which cannot be denied even if he tries to hide it. I think you see that side of him more clearly than anyone else, and so you came to love him. I glimpsed it too, and I pitied him. Yet more still is that even though all my thought was against his eventual release, my heart almost cried out to let him be. I have never felt the like of it. It were as if my counsel were upon a knife-edge. To go one way would lead our fates to ruin, and to the other...well, I do not know. Eol might indeed have come with evil intent but that all changed when you cried, wait! Then the darkness in him was lifted and my heart felt lighter. I think his fate is not in my hands as king. His doom is woven with yours and mine, but for what cause I cannot yet fathom."

Aredhel listened intently to her brother's strange words. She remembered the terrible weight of strangling will that bore down upon her which she had to fight to save Eol from himself before he could perform that horrific deed. Her hand went to her breast. The dart was still there, hidden within her gown. She was relieved, for if Turgon had found it and understood Eol's dark purpose, he might have spoken differently to her now. But her luck still held. She would destroy it as soon as she were able.

"So, you shall put your trust in Fate rather than crude counsel," she said.

Turgon smiled. "I shall," he replied. "Unless you would have me do otherwise."

"Nay, nay!" cried Aredhel."

"Then say rather I am putting my trust in Faith."

"Faith?"

"Yes. Faith in Eol as in my own judgement of him. He is the husband of my sister and therefore not my enemy, though he may think otherwise. And if he came to love one daughter of the Noldor, he might come to love her people too, if given the chance."

Aredhel looked at her brother. He was trying to tell her something. "Eol has a subtle mind," she said. "He will note any attempt to coddle him so as to gain his trust and goodwill."

"Then let it occur naturally," said Turgon. "And I think it will whether we help it or not." He sighed. "Well, things will..."

"Go as they will," finished Aredhel with a cheeky smile.

"Ah, there is the pert sister I know and love," said Turgon as he leaned to kiss her brow. He stood up. "I shall let you rest a while more," he said, stretching his limbs. "I have done my part for your happiness, but the rest is up to you and Eol." He turned and made his way to the door but upon taking hold of the silver handle he turned back. "This decision could end in triumph or greatest folly. Yet a chance for us is given, and I pray we all shall make the most of it."

With that, he opened the door and was gone. Aredhel lay back in her bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. Her mind was still trying to fathom this new reality she faced. A reality that had seemed an impossible dream but hours ago. She was back in her city, her son now strode the ways of Gondolin with Idril at his side, and Eol son of Elmo now dwelt in the Palace of the King with her. She could not believe it, but it were all true. Sure, there would be trials ahead. Maeglin still had to come to terms with his eventual return to Nan Elmoth. Sure, there would be clashes between Eol and Turgon, let alone between Eol and the people of Gondolin. Sure, there would be many prying questions from friends and aquaintances, from which both judgements and hopefully understanding should arise. Yes all these things now lay before Aredhel and her family. But still, that family was intact and the great shadow of doubt that had lain over it was lifted. The sun's afternoon rays passed over her window and a shadowy coolness came over the room. But Aredhel did not mind. She felt warm and not because of the covers. She felt warm with hope. The greatest of hurdles had been surmounted and the truth of it were as plain as glorious day.

---

Author's Commentary:

Here's another chapter to this story. It's gone real leftfield I know but that was the plan all along. I really hope you'll accept the tale anyway.

Well, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.

Thanx!