Bloody silmarils, book I by Dilly

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Chapter 2 : Blasé

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The King arrived, at last. A very good thing, since Lord High Constable, Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, had broken a chair, a pitcher, and a glass during his wait. He had a great deal of difficulty controlling his strength.

"I do apologize for being late," the king said, "I had an appointment with the city's architects, and I'm sure you know how they are."

"I can well imagine, Majesty. The one in my employ has yet to finish my house, and the little that he's completed falls down as soon as it's touched."

Turgon wasn't sure that was the architect's fault, but he kept the thought to himself. Glorfindel had set several sheets of parchment on the round table, each one with a picture of the blazons of Gondolin's Twelve Houses. Only the king's was missing.

Turgon laid down the picture he had drawn, inked, and colored himself next to the rest. His coat of arms consisted of a white moon, a yellow sun, and a scarlet heart.

"It's very beautiful," commented Glorfindel with a smile, "but if I may be so bold, your Majesty... Why a heart?"

Turgon sighed in the manner of those who have answered a particular question far too many times. "Come, it is obviously the heart of my father, Fingolfin, the high king of the Noldor."

Glorfindel's smile froze in some indefinable expression.

"Your father's... heart?"

"I did just say that," quipped Turgon.

"You mean.. that's his cardiac muscle?"

"Glorfindel, why are you always so literal ? It's a symbol. The scarlet heart represents the love between us and the love he has for his people.

The expression on Glorfindel's face didn't improve.

"What about the heart is bothering you? Tell me now or cease wearing that confounded expression. You look as if you have been bitten by a balrog.

Glorfindel cleared his throat.

"Ahem... So, you really want my opinion, your majesty?"

"I would not have asked otherwise."

"Well... I find it looks a bit, how to define it... A heart, on a banner, facing the orcish legions of Angband..."

"Continue."

"They're going to..." Glorfindel trailed off.

"To what?" Turgon demanded impatiently.

"It looks..." Glorfindel faltered again.

"... Looks?" Prompted Turgon, thoroughly exasperated.

"A bit... sissy, Majesty," the elf choked out quickly.

Turgon, with his stony expression, looked at Glorfindel with his long wavy golden hair and his clothes which were dotted with embroidered flowers on a field of green.

"You don't say?"

The Captain of Gondolin nodded.

"And the golden flower does not...?"

"Well, you told me to be sincere, your Majesty. Imagine Gothmog's mirth on the battlefield."

"Well then it'll distract him. And you will take full advantage of his distraction and bring him down."

"There is no way I'm fighting a balrog," replied Glorfindel, rather alarmed.

"Why not? Aren't you the strongest elf in Middle Earth aside from my father?"

"I'm not crazy, I don't have a death wish."

"Is that not what I pay you for, to vanquish fearsome enemies?"

"With all due respect, Majesty, you don't actually pay me."

"I don't?"

"You don't."

Turgon turned back to Penlodh, his chamberlain who had been standing still in a corner of the room since the meeting began.

"Penlodh, do I not pay him?"

"No my Lord, you do not."

"But certainly he must be paid, like all the other soldiers?"

"The other soldiers aren't paid either," Glorfindel interjected.

"How is that?"

"You are the king," Penlodh addressed Turgon, "you don't have to pay them to fight for king and country."

"Alright Glorfindel, how much must I give you to face a balrog?"

"Not for all the gold in Arda, Majesty. It will be heading for certain death, and I didn't make it all the way across the Ice to return now to my starting point in Aman."

Glorfindel had a point, and Turgon thought of his wife again.

 

 

Three months later and two hundred miles away, on Himring the Ever-cold, a hunting party led by prince Maedhros and his brother Maglor, who was visiting from his post on the Eastern Gap, returned through the iron portcullis. They wore fur and silver armor but no jewelry. Maedhros' shining copper hair fell freely over his shoulders and about his face. There had been a time when he was a great beauty, but now his face was drawn and his eyes were haunted, bereft of their former spark.

He dismounted his horse and signalled for one of his squires to care for it.

"Anything new during my absence?" he asked his Seneschal.

"No my Lord. Nothing but a package from your cousin Turgon, which awaits you in your room."

 

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"Maglor, come look at this!" Maedhros called out a few minutes later, "we just received Turgon's new standard."

Maglor the Bard removed his leather boots and then approached the wooden desk where the bright banner had been laid out.

"The work is beautiful," he assayed, touching the delicate embroidery on the fabric, "but that scarlet emblem here, it can't really be a heart, can it?"

"It definitely is."

The two brothers stayed silent and for a moment did not dare to voice their thoughts. Then Maedhros turned to Maglor. "Looks a bit sissy, doesn't it?"

"That it does," replied Maglor with a definite smirk.