The Song of Our Making by Tilperiel

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Of Lords and Letters

“Ah ha! Finished for the day, I assume? I thought I might find you out here.”

The playing faded on a final note as Lord Ecthelion of the House of the Silver Fountain lowered his flute and stood with a smile and nod of deference. The newcomer approached him with a smile of greeting in return and he sat back down as she came to perch beside him.

“What can I do for you Írissë? I am honoured to have you seek me out, but I won’t deny that it makes me more than a little suspicious.” He gave her an amused yet knowing look, adding, “and before you feign shock, I would remind you that it is not without warrant I am wary!”

She laughed, a bright tinkling sound, with no denial coming forth because they both knew it was true. Case in point being not a few weeks previous when he had been talked, or bribed being a better word, into playing at a particularly tedious dinner party full of gossiping ladies. Ecthelion had endured merciless teasing for the entire evening and was none too keen on a repeat performance. They could be quite unnerving when in large groups. He shuddered.

She leaned her head back, face upturned to the warmth of the bright day and closed her eyes for a moment, humming. She was clearly in no hurry to let Ecthelion continue with his playing and he suspected she rather enjoyed dragging out whatever her reason for this visit was. He shook his head. They all knew she was bored of being cooped up within the kingdom and truth be told many here were, so trying to annoy the Lords was one of her favourite ways to find amusement. Clearly, he thought he had been singled out for this afternoon.

“My brother asked that I might give you this.”

Ecthelion had just about decided that if she wasn’t going to proffer an answer he might as well start the piece he was working on again when she interrupted him at the sound of the first note blown. Suppressing a sigh, he lowered the flute. She had fished out a roll of parchment which he took as she watched expectantly and with a shrug he cracked open Turgon’s wax seal and unrolled the letter, turning it right-way up to read. Scanning the missive, he glanced up at Aredhel and back, a crease to his brow as he read between the lines before rolling it back up and tucking it away inside his robes.

Aredhel deflated a little and he couldn’t help but give a single soft breath of laughter.

“Are you that starved for new gossip that you thought a letter from Turukáno might provide some new chatter if I had reacted in a more animated fashion? Perhaps you expected I might have toppled back in shock into the waters?” He guessed that she had indeed been expecting more of a reaction regarding the contents and while he was quite surprised in honesty, he didn’t think it best to make remarks or discuss it within potential hearing of the many pairs of ears around the square.

He lifted a brow in amusement, calmly watching her and Aredhel rolled her eyes and unfolded her arms to swat him on the shoulder lightly.

Ecthelion let out another soft breath. “So, the latter then. I take it this was your doing?”

“If you would prefer that I ask for another to take your place?” she challenged, looking him in the eye with a glint.

“I suspect Salgant would be most pleased! He could regale you with many tales of bravery and songs of- eating contests-” He swallowed his grin as he spoke, for Ecthelion was very good at keeping a straight face. Just a hint of his amusement in the turn of his lips and the creases of his eyes, as Aredhel looked aghast and offended at the very idea.

“You do and I shall recommend you for sewer duties instead! Besides, Turukáno had chosen our cousin already and I didn’t wish for him to refuse so-“

“Yes. Quite.” Ecthelion abruptly sobered and nodded, cheeks flushing high with colour for a moment before returning to his normal pale shade.

“In that case it is settled.” She looked smug. “I shall expect you in council tomorrow evening- But Ehtelë,” she had stood, brushing invisible dust from the fountain’s stone rim from her white dress, “not a word, apart from with Egalmoth and Laurë? You understand.”

He nodded and smiled tightly, it starting to dawn on him just what lay ahead. “Do they know yet?” He guessed not; he would have at least had an inkling.

She tapped the pouch on her hip. “Nay, so stay a while longer with your flute my Lord. It may be a time before your people hear music played again by such talented hands and it would be cruel of you to leave them bereft of such memories of a beautiful day.”

With that she nodded in parting, a knowing smile on her lips and looking every part the proud princess she was as she left, people making way for her as she crossed the relatively crowded square of the fountain district towards the East of the city.

He thought that should be the case, that it would make the most sense if her next letter was headed for the House of the House of the Golden Flower. She wouldn’t want Ecthelion to spoil her afternoon of surprising her Lords, but he wasn’t about to do any such thing. For as much as Aredhel could irk them all at times and certainly he’d felt the sharp side of her tongue too, she was beloved as their king’s sister and as family.

He would indulge her her fun in seeing the other Lords and breaking the news without interfering, although he was already anticipating the conversation he’d be having with them later, as he couldn’t help wondering how she’d managed to convince Turgon.

So instead, as she disappeared through the archway through to the King’s Tower he sat back down, bringing his flute back up to his lips and slotting slender fingers over the holes in their familiar places. The one sure way he knew he could loose himself for a while and not brood on the affairs he was to become part of, and soon he had gathered a small crowd to listen to him play.

“Írissë! To what honour do I owe this visit!”

“It’s been less than a week, Laurefindil,” she chided with a smile as she found herself enveloped in a gentle hug by the golden-haired elf who had entered the drawing room where she waited for his arrival. He stepped back but held her hands for a moment still, squeezing them lightly before letting her go.

“Ah, but much can happen in a week. You might have news of a suitor. Do you have news of a suitor?”

She laughed and he joined her, this being somewhat of an inside joke between them; for Aredhel often and quite loudly made it known that no-one eligible in Gondolin was her equal and therefore she wouldn’t be accepting of any offers made. A bold statement when the numbers had grown to be that of almost thirty-five thousand in recent years and many were born of high-standing.

He gestured for her to sit and she did, taking the most comfortable chair near to the window, where the view looked out towards the Himring and their white peaks, capped with snow even in the heights of summer. Her gaze and expression were distant and Glorfindel mused as he looked on her, a secret smile playing on her lips.

“What are you up to?” his tone was curious and looking back at him her smile widened in a flash of teeth and quickly she drew out a roll of parchment identical to the first she had given out, save for a yellow silk ribbon tied neatly around the middle and held it towards him. Cocking his head to one side and watching her suspiciously he took it and pulling the ribbon free he opened the seal with care, noting the king’s mark rather than her own.

So, this is official business then?

Seeing Turgon’s neat handwriting gave him cause to think before he’d even taken in a word; for him to write his own correspondence, even to his chief lords, surely meant something bigger than the usual fair they had all come to accept as being the responsibility of running a largely populated city such as Gondolin? Even whilst remaining ever vigilant of the threat that was ever at the back of their minds. With interest he sat to read, eyes widening and lips parting in surprise.

‘…along with the Lords Ehtelë and Egalmoth, shall ride forth with the Lady Írissë Ar-Feiniel as her escort, to lead her into to the kingdom of Ñolofinwë and there seek Findekáno in Hithlum, by the safest route….’

Of course he, as Ecthelion had already done, read between the lines of the orders as they were spelt out, knowing the king all too well and almost hearing his misgivings and supreme irritation through the formal language as if he spoke them directly.

‘…Lord Laurefindil, are requested to present yourself alone and with discretion tomorrow afternoon at the third ringing of the bells, before the briefing…’

A small knot of heaviness settled itself in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed, looking serious as he read the last line before rolling the parchment back up and tucking it safely away into an inner pocket. It would not do to have one of his household pick it up.

Standing, he paced over to the window next to where Aredhel sat, feeling her eyes follow him but not paying mind to her for now. Hands clasped at his back, he looked out on the mountains, but his thoughts turned inwards.

“I can almost hear the wheels turning up there. Be careful you do not do yourself an injury.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice when Aredhel spoke up after Glorfindel had been a long moment in silence.

“Then you should know that if I agree to this, the decision isn’t being made lightly. Although, given that I am being summoned to council for a briefing, not for discussion, I’m going to assume that Turukáno has already tried and failed to sway you from this path. And failed most miserably it would seem, if he’s sending the three of us with you.”

He sighed and passed a hand over his face, taking a moment to compose himself before his bright countenance returned and he turned to lean his hands on the back of the princess’s chair. She twisted and reached behind to take one of them and squeezed in the same gesture he had shown her earlier and at least had the decency to look apologetic. The relief was evident in the slight relaxation of her features upon realising that she wasn’t going to have a fight on her hands to convince him to join her. Turgon wasn’t to know and neither was she going to volunteer the truth of the matter; that whilst it might well have been at her brothers’ insistence that she was not to travel alone, she had wanted the three he had decided would form her guard to join her in any case. That it had been at Turgon’s command, just made her life easier.

It was clear to Glorfindel that she was genuine, the façade dropped which she wore so often as that of a fierce warrior Noldor; never wanting to appear less than any of the Lords she was surrounded by, tall and upright in every aspect, she often cut an imposing figure. Aredhel had garnered as much respect as any of them amongst the Gondolindrim however, for she had much skill with a sword and even more so a bow. Her only failing, not that he would venture to suggest any such thing, was her naivety. He didn’t need to wonder why Turgon had chosen the three captains he had for this excursion.

Removing his hands he came around and sat in the chair opposite fixing her with an earnest expression. He hesitated just a little, leaning forwards and he let out his breath, a small shake of his head.

“I don’t suppose I would fare any better than your brother in dissuading you from this idea of yours?” he asked with small hope, although he felt it his duty to give it a shot. “It’s foolish, you must know that? You’ve spoken with those from the Hammer…you know what your fate will be if you are taken…”

The elves in the House of the Hammer of Wrath were the strongest and hardiest by far of all of the twelve Houses in Gondolin, but with good reason. Many amongst their rank had been forged in the fires of Angband where they had been forced to work the mines and the tales told when they were in the ale houses brought shudders to those who stayed to hear them.

Her eyes flashed, lips parting with a curl, rising a little from her seat and even bringing up a finger to point, but she thought better of it after a seconds’ thought and sank back down again with a noise of distinct annoyance. To give him his due, Glorfindel was true to form in his bravery and managed not to fall back where others would certainly have done. Though it was a close thing and his shoulders relaxed as she deflated some.

“I will tell you what I told Turukáno,” she harrumphed and turned her nose up slightly in a haughty fashion, “I am not a bird to be caged within this city and will not be held here without leave to depart if I wish. My brother may be king but he is not my keeper. I shall go, whether with his permission or not. I have greater skill in my little finger than the filth that Morgoth sends out to do his bidding. Let them try anything; they will find themselves at the pointy end of my arrows.”

Despite the brevity of the situation Glorfindel couldn’t help but feel slightly amused at this display, though wasn’t foolish enough to show it openly and he bit the inside of his cheek to stay any smile. This didn’t escape her attention however. “Urgh, you-” She huffed but relented, not furthering the argument.

He held up both hands in supplication and shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ manor and she shook her own head slowly at him and rolled her eyes.

“Between you and my brother it’s honestly a wonder I’ve managed to stay here so long. I pity your Poor aunt Írimë for having to put up with you both,” she complained, but in spite of herself softened and a small smile curved her lips. She folded her arms across her chest but that playful spark was back in her eyes. “Anyhow, I would have thought to find you grateful to be given the honour of being my guardsman, Lord Laurefindil. There may be opportunities to perhaps stay a little on the road? Some time away from the watchful eyes of the city and perhaps to indulge in some more relaxing pastimes than can be afforded here-“

“Írissë …” his tone carried warning, though there was little in it and he sighed in resignation as she laughed and stood abruptly, clapping her hands together. She always did seem to get things her way.

“Wonderful! That’s settled then! I am most looking forwards to this trip. Do try to contain your excitement with telling everyone the news until Turukáno has made his announcement. I will leave you to the rest of your afternoon, cousin and go to deliver the news to Egalmoth. I’m sure he will be equally as delighted as yourself and Ehtelë have been.”

“I’m sure he will…” Glorfindel muttered but without much heart, for he had already accepted his fate and whilst between now and the moment of their departure he would be no doubt mulling over the whole affair; he couldn’t deny it to himself at least that there was more than a little excitement mixed with apprehension of what lay ahead.

“Írissë, my dear! I didn’t know you would be visiting today! Laurefindil, why wasn’t I called?”

“Oh forgive me but I can’t stop, another fair lord to see, but perhaps I could return this evening? Unless you think I would be interrupting anything?”

Glorfindel suppressed a sigh in the manor of the long suffering as his mother came down the wide staircase just as he was showing Aredhel to the door.

“Not this evening. Sorry.” Glorfindel shot her a pointed look and she smiled innocently and sighed.

“Then another night, of course. My Lord, my Lady, I will bid you both good-day.”

With that she took her leave and Glorfindel was left to watch her pass over the courtyard and through the archway that would take her to the northern quarter; the Lady Lalwen looking rather bemused as she waited patiently for an explanation of what she had come in on. Aredhel’s white dress flashed out of sight and he turned with some resignation to answer her questioning gaze.

So it was that at last the Lady Aredhel came to the House of the Heavenly Arch, which sat before the Northern walls of the city. It was the largest of the houses by virtue of the number of those who called the district their home. Along with its neighbouring house, the Swallow of Lord Duilin, many of their people had joined the Noldor from the ranks of those Sindar, who had long since taken Turgon for their king when they had dwelt in Nevrast together.

Egalmoth was their lord and he currently stood upon the outer walls which overlooked the plains below and the mountains above; bow in hand as was his custom as he took his place on the watch. Day and night, it was always kept and from time to time an arrow would be loosed to bring down a spy of the enemy who might dare to fly over the plain, or any other creature who might crawl over the encircling mountains and was spotted from afar. For though the enemy might enter, none should be allowed to leave.

“My Lord.” A young guard approached and bowed his head before his captain. “I would relieve you of your post, if you will. The Lady Aredhel is here and seeks an audience.”

“Does she now? Don’t let her intimidate you, she’s really very nice.” He paused. “When she wants to be.”

He had turned with a smile noting the nervousness in the messenger, suspecting that Aredhel had had some fun in ordering him about; it would explain the extreme formalness. He patted him on the shoulder in comradery as he passed, heading for the stairs. The crystals embroidered on his tunic glittered as he went in every colour in the late afternoon light.

“Tondil! Please show the Lady through to the gardens if you would? Aredhel! It’s lovely to see you but you will excuse me whilst I go and seek some refreshments? I will be with you quite shortly.”

Egalmoth was not known for pandering to many and to most that made him delightful company and he endeared himself to them. Others though found him too informal, especially the prouder of the Noldor, particularly in appearance. He had a fondness for all things bright and colourful and had brought with him a great wealth of gems from Menegroth, which was his first home. Some more unkind people might have called him garish, but he didn’t care a jot.

By the time he stepped out into the formal gardens adjoining his house, Arien was beginning to sink down below the mountains to the West and Aredhel was standing quietly turned towards her, watching as the sky turned from blue to orange. He came to stand beside her.

“It’s beautiful, but rather sad, don’t you think?” she asked, not turning away from the sunset.

“Why would that be?” he asked in a quiet tone, for the lady seemed lost in thought and he didn’t wish to disturb her.

“I remember playing on the plains around the hill on which Laurelin and Telperion stood in my childhood. To think that never again will we see their light, save for the ships which sail the sky…” She shook herself lightly and it seemed to Egalmoth that she caught herself as in a waking dream, returning to the present with an over-bright gleam in her eyes. He had not been born in Valinor and neither had he travelled there, so he was not so moved as he knew those who had seen the darkening of the world could be, so he said nothing but gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Look at me! And here I was come to give you good news, not become maudlin at the sight of the setting sun!” She laughed a note and took hold of her senses, dipping her hand into the pouch on her hip and she pulled out the final roll of parchment it contained and handed it over to Egalmoth. He took it with a raise of brows and opened it straight away.

“Hmm. I see. Well,” he rolled up the orders and tucked it into his belt, “I suppose it will be nice to get a bit more of a stretch of legs for a while and a change of scenery. I wonder if I should have time to meet with friends?” He smiled brightly.

His reaction was markedly different to that of the two Noldor she had already seen that afternoon and Aredhel laughed in delight. Yes, Turgon had chosen the three most suited to this expedition indeed. For where Glorfindel was of the highest rank amongst his captains, his being the king’s cousin and of the house of Finwë and Ecthelion the second; with Egalmoth’s heritage amongst the noblest of his people, he was the obvious third person to have with them to travel through lands where the Sindarin elves made their homes. She hoped his being there would secure them safe passage.

She didn’t admit, even to herself, that it was also because her mastery of Sindarin still left a bit to be desired.

This had all certainly occurred to him, as much as the other two had reached the same conclusion just as quickly, but unlike them he equally as quickly decided to look upon this as a fortunate opportunity to step outside into the wider lands once more and he suddenly felt a longing to walk again under the trees. A certain lady who dwelt still with the host may also have come to mind.

“Glorfindel and Ecthelion already know,” she told him, “but no-one else just yet. Please do keep it that way.” She gave him the same parting after her short visit as she had his peers but turned back to him as she began to walk slowly towards the garden’s entrance and added, “perhaps you may want to see them tomorrow to celebrate the good news though rather than this evening?”

He frowned in response with a pointed look to the squires who hovered nearby.

“My Lady? I don’t believe I catch your meaning?”

“Oh well, only that you know them,” she said airily, opting to let him feign ignorance, “I don’t think they’re as keen to leave the city, rather more full of foreboding and such. Hopefully your enthusiasm will rub off on them.”

Egalmoth merely blinked and smiled, not rising to the bait. “As you wish my Lady. No doubt I will see you in counsel tomorrow. Let me walk you out.”

“How did they take it? I don’t hear any shouting in the hallways, so I shall assume that they aren’t about to storm over here in immediate protest?”

Turgon sat back in an easy chair in his drawing room and thought about how like their half-cousins she could be at times as he watched his sister making herself comfortable. A rather pleased look on her face, as of a cat that had captured a large mouse for supper.

“Did you underestimate me, my king?” she asked, “or the loyalty of your captains to the crown?”

“No, only that I thought at least one of them might have had the common sense to try to talk you out of this madness. I still don’t know what you’re thinking. This reckless-“

“No. We’ve been through this enough and the decision is made,” she cut him off, her tone brokering no argument, “and yes, you’ll likely be pleased to hear that Laurefindil did attempt to make his case. My case however is stronger. That is that.”

Turgon didn’t look like that was that at all but managed to hold his tongue and with a “hmph,” decided that furthering the conversation was fruitless. Besides, he was rather set on his own plans now too, not that Aredhel had any business in knowing them.

He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and brooded quietly, hoping that he was doing the right thing.

The words of Lord Ulmo weighed heavy in his heart.

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