Bloody silmarils, book I by Dilly

---

Chapter 13: The duel

---

 

"Favouritism, more favouritism!" exclaimed Egalmoth when he heard the news. "The lads of my house are always the ones who get pinned down by the king... And why? Because Mr. Penlodh doesn't like me."

"From what I understood, he is the brother-in-law of his ex-wife's sister."

"That nepotism disgusts me."

 

 

The day before.

Penlodh, the king's steward, was undisturbed as he cut and artistically arranged a bouquet of flowers with carefully thought-out symbolism. In the same room, his sister, a young woman with long curly hair of dark blond bronze, sang a hymn to the glory of Ilúvatar in their native Quenya.

But the serenity of this painting was to be interrupted by Glorfindel, who knocked on the side of one of the arches to signal his presence, damaging the marble with a slight hollow in the process. The harpist stopped singing.

"Penlodh? Can I talk to you for a few moments?"

"What's the matter?"

The Constable came closer, and whispered in the ear of the steward.

"There is a problem with the Lord of the Fountain..."

"Ecthelion?"

"He challenged a member of the House of the Heavenly Arch to a duel... Barandîr, who commands a regiment of infantrymen."

"Yes, I see who he is... What is the reason for the conflict?"

"Well, Barandîr is said to have insulted Ecthelion's squire, a human. The duel is scheduled for tonight at six o'clock... It's a duel to the death. I couldn't find the king right away, so I thought it best to warn you."

"You have done well! Private duels are forbidden by law... We will have both parties summoned immediately. I'll see to it that the king is informed."

"Very good."

Glorfindel walked to one of the exits. But as he did so, he felt the blonde musician's gaze directed at him. His cheeks turned pink and he almost missed a step.

 

 

"So, what's all this about a duel?" asked Turgon on his throne, looking alternately at Ecthelion, stiff as a pike, and Barandîr, no less stiff but less austere.

"My squire was gravely insulted, Your Majesty," explained Ecthelion, his eyes shining with anger. "It is my duty to wash away his honour."

"His honour... Or your?" asked the king.

Barandîr laughed.

"Well... What exactly happened?"

"I came to the barracks with Belin the Blond, my faithful squire, who is, as you know, a human being. But when Lord Barandîr – if I can still use a title of nobility for such a vile and repulsive person – saw us, he asked me if I had come with my monkey."

"It was only a joke, Your Majesty," the other defended himself.

"Enough is enough ! I will not tolerate that Humans are insulted in my city. Lord Barandîr, you will be condemned to pay a fine, the amount of which will be determined later, and you must apologise to Ecthelion's squire."

"Is that all?" exclaimed Ecthelion. "How can I..."

"I would like to make it clear, although it goes without saying, that duels are forbidden, so if I hear anything about this, you will both end up in jail."

"But..."

"I spoke. Get out of here."

 

 

"I didn't ask for anything", explained the squire to Penlodh, on the main square.

"I understand well..."

The steward and the human then saw the two defendants leave the King's Tower, where Turgon had just dispensed justice. Ecthelion walked two metres behind Barandîr. Then suddenly he grabbed him by his hair, which was very long, and pulled him back to himself. He had done this with his left hand. In his right hand, he held his naked sword, which he placed under the throat of the other elf.

"No..." Barandîr murmured.

"Dog..." replied Ecthelion. "Do you think you deserve my pity?"

Penlodh and Belin had no time to do anything, nor did the other elves who were there. Ecthelion was about to deprive Barandîr of one of the parts of his body, the most important for an elf, the part that made him a male.

With a movement of the blade, in front of the great fountain of the esplanade, everyone saw Ecthelion cut the hair of his prisoner to the ground. Barandîr, who was no longer restrained by his head, fell forward. Then, with a scornful gesture, the other let the brown hair fall back on the mown head, like a handful of sand offered to the wind.

"Let that be a lesson to you."

 

 

"Argh, but why does he always has to do things like that!" exclaimed Turgon. "It seems he is incapable of the slightest moderation... I don't like it Penlodh, it makes me anxious... It reminds me of the Maniac."

"The Maniac?"

"You know... Fëanor."

"Don't worry too much about that. I think young Ecthelion will have time to meditate on his actions where he is at the moment."

And indeed, where he was, there wasn't much else to do.

The jails of Gondolin were comfortable if compared to prisons of other races. But they were still prisons, and offered little privacy. The crime rate was low and most of the cells were used as drunk tank for Sindar who had abused alcohol (a pleonasm, some Noldor may say).

On the first day, Belin came to visit his master and gave him a bag through the bars.

"There is a change of clothes, kind lord, your hairbrush, your shampoo, and some oranges that I has bought at the market."

"Thank you."

"I can't believe it!" exclaimed a guard as he noticed the squire's round ears. "Is he human?"

"Yes, that's what I be," Belin replied naively.

On the other side of the bars, Ecthelion made a face.

"Does he always talk like that? They say they can't pronounce all the sounds... Is that true?"

The elf lord did not answer.

"What d'you mean, that I prononce all the sounds not?" Belin asked.

"Oh la la! I'm sure you hired him because he was less expensive than a real elf squire. Hey ! Just between us, the king can say what he wants, but humans are not like us. It is said that the intelligence of an adult does not exceed that of a ten-year-old elf child, and that some of our dogs are smarter than them... Besides, I am surprised that he didn't bring you banan..."

The guard could not continue his speech, because a burst of oranges fell on him.

Ecthelion's detention was extended for a week for "assault and battery with food".

 

 

But Belin the Blond came to visit his master every day, and the latter sadly noticed that he was now hiding the top of his ears under his hair.

"There is a question I would like to ask thee, m'ssire. With all due respect..."

"Do."

"What has become of my pred'cessor?"

"Your what?"

"My pred'cessor, the elf who was your squire before me."

"Ah! Him! Not much. An Orc captain caught him once... And he gutted him right above my head."

Belin became whiter than a sheet of paper.

"Is this true, my lord?"

"Of course it's true."