Nimloth. by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

Read Chapter 1

    Nimloth.

   Breathless from the dance, almost bewildered by the whirl of colour and light, Gildor had sought the starlight and the cool of the night air. He sipped the smooth white wine, sweet with the scent of spring flowers, and sighed happily. To see Dior, pupil and friend, happily married at last, had brought him almost as much joy as a wedding in his own family. He felt almost part of this strange little family, on this strange little island, and was delighted that Nimloth, as strange as any of them, had joined them.

   A soft voice spoke behind him, and he turned with a smile.
"Have you tired of us so soon, Gildor ? " Nimloth asked with a smile. Gildor raised his glass
"My lady ! You will tire of me long before I tire of you. I intend to remain with him, with you, for as long as I am welcome, offering my service in whatever need."
Nimloth looked gravely at him, her eyes dark in the shadow, though her pale face seemed lovelier than ever. He felt an almost comfortable sense of approval; she was so different to Dior, such a distinct person, with such different beauty, that the contrast between them was as pleasing as the joy of their harmony.

   "Thank you Gildor, I know that he relies on you, you are as an uncle to him, or a brother, and he has such confidence and trust in you that I cannot imagine him without you."
"You are kind, my lady, it has been an honour and pleasure to share these past years with him, and it will be my delight to know that I am still welcome here. But what of yourself, my lady ? Can you tolerate an interfering old Noldor at your table, always rambling on about the good old days ? "
   "Oh Gildor ! I am an interfering old Sindar, and I too ramble on about the old days. But he has not seen past my pale hair, he has not realised how ancient and dull I am, and I am ashamed that in my weakness I have ignored all restraint and accepted the hand of someone whom you and I both know is a child, or at least, a callow youth, ignorant and naive. Can you forgive me ? Will he ? 
   I fear that pride and honour will keep him silent forever, but that gradually he will awaken and realise who I am, and the enormity of the crime I have committed in binding him to me. He will despise me, and learn to hate me with all the feeling he now puts into love."

   Gildor looked at Nimloth in shocked surprise. How very different from the songs, he thought, how strange the world is... She turned away and sighed.
"Forgive me, Gildor, I know that the wound of your grief is not healed. It is wrong of me to burden you with my fears..."
But Gildor laid his hand on the arm of Nimloth 
"My lady... I... I am honoured beyond words by your confidence. I am also astonished beyond words by your doubt. And indeed, by how you underestimate his wit. He knows your mind, your spirit, as you know his. 
  Both of you have told me how it was when first you met, how your spirits flowed together without effort. You will not surprise him. As to you trapping him, I tell you, his whole purpose in life, these past eight years, has been to wed you. Dull ! " Gildor laughed "If I had not liked you so much, and thought you a fine love for my dear Dior, I would have come to hate your very name, for it is constantly in his thought and his words. Dull ! By wedding him, you may make him more interesting, since he will no longer be endlessly pining for you and saying your name to me as though I could summon you ! "
Nimloth, smiling with closed lips, laughed softly. She sighed, and arched her back.
  "Thankyou Gildor. I suppose that I am overly concerned with what others think, but now I should think only of him. "
"And yourself, dear lady. He will not thank you for giving up who you are in a misguided attempt to please him. It is the person you are now whom he loves. I pray you, stay as you are, and let him follow in your wake as best he may. Indeed, he is young, and we do not yet know what he may become in time. The vine is the best in Middle-earth, but the grapes are barely picked... We must await the wine."

   Gildor took a deep draught from his goblet, and realised that he was rather more drunk than he supposed. He urged caution upon himself, even as his hand moved in an overly flamboyant gesture. 
   "His grandfather married a Maia. His mother walked into Thangorodrim and took a Silmaril from Morgoth. He is, as you know him, kind and valiant, quick-witted, true-hearted, agile, strong, beautiful... He might do anything ! Anything ! It is even possible..." he lowered his voice "It may be that he can unite the Elves of Middle-earth behind his banner, and form alliance with Men and Dwarves, and even the Ents, to stand together against the Enemy. The Noldor, alas, are almost defeated, but it may be that the curse will die with them... With us.... But Dior is untainted by any guilt, having sworn no oath, nor had any part in the... in events. 
   Forgive me, my lady, I... it is not for me to say..."
"Dior sees you as part of his family. I am now part of his family. It is certainly your place to say, and I thank you for your kind words. But you know the wine will be long in the vat before... He is twenty seven ! Eru the creator ! I am shocked at what I have done, truly, and it seems impossible that I could ever face a serious Elf with this... this infant by my side.  And yet, you know him, he is adult, there is no doubt." 

   She sighed "But no Elf, Noldor or Sindar, will follow the banner of such a child. I would not dream of suggesting it. Nor he, I am sure. You know that he dreams of slaying the dragon ? Oh Gildor, I urge you to help me in dissuading him from rushing off... I fear we shall awaken one morning to find him gone..."
   Gildor nodded "He will not escape unobserved, my lady, fear not. His mother has had him guarded thus for many years. But do not trouble yourself, he will not wish to leave Tol Galen while his parents live; for whether he is Eldar or Edain, they themselves are Mortal and their time here is limited. 
   All will be well. As Lúthien and Beren reach the time of... of age, he himself will be matured, in wisdom and experience. By then, the work of forging alliances will be done, and he may raise his banner at an age when most Eldar would consider themselves newly launched into the world."
  "If we have time." Nimloth said without emotion. 
  To Gildor it was a plunge into cold water. He knew that the Doom would spare none in its path, but the vengefulness of... of Eru Ilùvatar himself, seemed vicious beyond measure or restraint to the eyes of Gildor, and his mind rebelled at the implications. He bowed his head.
"All that we can do is prepare ourselves for the fight; whether we reach the battlefield may be beyond our power to determine. But what of the dragon ?"
"Tell me, Gildor, without fear or favour, how skilled a warrior is he ?"

   Gildor was silent for a little, thinking of Glorfindel, hundreds of years before. It seemed a memory of a time in another world. Glorfindel, the garlanded victor of almost every sport or game, chase or fight, winning the race-in-armour around the walls of Tirion, and his golden hair tumbling around his glowing face, shining down on the crowd who carried him cheering on their shoulders. Where was Glorfindel ? Was Gondolin still standing ? Would Turgon ever ride forth to battle ? Would Glorfindel destroy the dragon ?
   "Dior is outstanding." He said finally. " I long to see him confront Glorfindel, the champion of the Noldor. But Glorfindel has centuries of experience and has lived long in the Light of the Trees. All of Elvendom awaits his attack on the dragon. But I urge you to say nothing of this to Dior, for he will see it as a challenge, and be gone before we can stop him."
   "Poor Dior, so impatient to be in action. I wish I could teach him of the action in song, and in the flourishing of the earth."
   Gildor emptied his goblet and laughed "But my lady, of course you must, that is what we fight for, that is our prize and goal. You are his prize and goal ! Teach him now, while he is young enough to learn, and then the battles will be worth the fight."