The Song of Our Making by Tilperiel

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The gentle art of Persuasion

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“I don’t understand, there must be some reason behind this? You can’t just shrug and feign ignorance, you know-something.”

Ecthelion narrowed his eyes at Glorfindel’s overly-innocent expression and made a displeased noise. Clearly, he wasn’t buying whatever Glorfindel was selling. Clearly Glorfindel was a complete fool if he even thought for a moment that he would.

“Look, you’ve obviously more information than myself, why else should your missive have been marked out otherwise? And why lie to me about it? Surely it would be expected you would share this information with me at least!”

“Maybe expected by Írissë, yes,” Glorfindel countered, “but Turukáno would be less than happy if he thought I shared with you half as much as I do. Especially the personal details. You know that.”

Ecthelion’s indignation at this perceived slight was evident and Glorfindel wasn’t doing much in the way of assuaging it. It rankled him all the more when all he did in response was steeple his hands underneath his chin and hum, fore fingers on his lips. He marched over to where Glorfindel sat, one leg crossed over the other knee and went to pick up the letter which sat on the table at his side where, it had been tied again with the gold ribbon. Before he could do anything however, Glorfindel neatly plucked it from his fingers and tapped his arm with the roll. Ecthelion huffed again and folded his arms.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Glorfindel admonished him, seemingly coming around from whatever had him in deep thought. “I’m a bit offended at that as well.” He frowned and Ecthelion at least had the decency to look contrite.

No, he knew that Glorfindel wasn’t lying; it took a deal of effort to keep things hidden from someone who knew your every mood, even when carefully hidden from the outside world and he sighed, chastened.

“Sorry. That was uncalled for,” he said and sat in the arm-chair that Aredhel had occupied earlier and looked distractedly out of the window. It was dark now, but Glorfindel seldom drew the drapes across, preferring instead to see the stars, when lack of cloud cover permitted it.

“Ai, Elbereth…” Ecthelion slumped back some, not his usual relaxed self at all and rubbed at his brow, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache forming. “Why now? I mean,” he glanced over at his companion, who was sipping his wine and watching Ecthelion carefully, “we all know that Írissë’s been bored here for decades, it’s hardly a new thing for her to petition for leave outside of the gates, but what could have changed to have Turukáno agree now when he hasn’t before? We all know his edict. So-” The laws was plain on the matter, no-one who knew the location of the city was to leave. No exceptions and it had been that way for the last hundred years or more.

He pursed his lips and frowned then blew out a loud breath. “No. I can’t think of a good enough reason. He can’t just have been so worn down by his sisters’ bargaining. There has to be more to this than that and I believe you know something of it.”

He took up his own glass and stared into the depths as if it might hold the answers, before taking a large sip and giving Glorfindel an accusatory glare. Alhough there was no longer any heat to it.

“Yes, I do,” Glorfindel admitted which gained him a ‘ha!’ from Ecthelion, to which he rolled his eyes and continued. “I do know that Turukáno wants me to meet with him privately to discuss a matter concerning this order before the council meeting. And that,” he stared pointedly, “is all. I swear.”

“Careful, no swearing, remember-” Ecthelion muttered darkly.

“I swear I’ll be petitioning Lord Manwë to release me from putting up with you at this rate!” he returned hotly. “Honestly Ehtelë, what has gotten into you? And yes, I do realise that this is a most unusual mission we’re being sent on but, I’m sure there will be a reasonable explanation. Besides, you have been going on yourself about how much you would give for a change of scenery. Well, now you’ve got your wish. And you’ll get to see Findekáno too. You always were closer to him than our king.”

He leaned forwards and tapped the rim of his glass thoughtfully where he balanced it on his knee. Glorfindel had spoken with his mother after Aredhel had left that afternoon and whilst he wasn’t happy with what was being asked of them; he thought it was exceedingly risky with little to be gained, other than satisfying his head-strong cousins’ desire for adventure and to get one over on her brother, she had pointed out that Turgon never did anything without good reason and he should trust to his judgement. Reluctantly he had to agree. Weighing up the evidence of Turgon’s actions over the years, he had done nothing without great calculation and out of all of the kingdoms that had been established in Arda since their arrival, Gondolin was by far the most secure and peaceful. It was highly unlikely that he was about to jeopardise the safety of the city and all its inhabitants just for the sake of Aredhel’s bemoaning the fact that she couldn’t come and go as she pleased.

He had asked the lady herself once why she had chosen to join them in the hidden kingdom if she appeared to despise it so much. She’d simply given him a wry smile and told him that the truth was, that she did not. Not really. She had always been closest to Turgon out of her brothers and as her Aunt Lalwen and thus her sons Aranwë and Glorfindel had decided to follow him here out of their own loyalty, with a little reluctance she had agreed to follow too. Which had also meant that she had by default agreed to the Laws as they had been decreed. It didn’t stop her from complaining but no-one had actually thought that Turgon might one day grant her her wish; but in that it seemed, they had all been wrong.

Admittedly he was more than a little curious himself as to why he had been called to a secret meeting and what it could mean, so he could forgive Ecthelion his disgruntlement at being left out of the loop.

“Family business, I suppose…” Ecthelion grumbled and Glorfindel looked up at him, eyebrows lifted and lips parting to start countering whatever was coming.

“No, don’t worry, I’m not about to start complaining so you needn’t look at me like that. It’s just-” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. Truly. I know that this isn’t your fault and I’m taking it out on you.”

“Yes, you are.“

“Well, then you know that it’s because we have a duty to protect our people; who are here and need us to remain here in order to do so. I know other matters of governance can be given out for a time more easily, but not that of military lead. Whilst yes, I admit the prospect of spending some time outside of the mountains and having more freedom in certain matters is very much appealing,” he noted Glorfindel’s warm smile at that statement and rose a brow in his direction, “it would be very poor form if any of us were to find ourselves languishing in Námo’s company for the sake of it.”

He finished his impassioned speech with high colour in his cheeks.

“You do have a point,” Glorfindel agreed, “but it wouldn’t do for Írissë to go alone either and surely you wouldn’t be suggesting that any of the other houses would be more suitable to accompany her? How would that look when she arrives in Mithrim? I’ve already thought about our respective houses and I’m certain Aranwë will make sure the Golden Flower doesn’t go to pot without me here.

“This is the only way that makes sense. You and I both know Írissë only too well; once she’s set her mind to a thing there’s no stopping her and it seems that Turukáno has lost this particular battle. Now he needs to make his play so as to make the best of a bad lot, is what I’m assuming. So, I will go, naturally,” he shrugged without self-agrandment and standing, walked over to perch himself on the arm of Ecthelion’s chair, reaching one arm over his shoulders and leaning in. He rubbed his arm placatingly.

“And Egalmoth will come because we may have need to travel through the northern reaches of Doriath and Eru knows that neither of us has managed to master enough Sindarin yet to get us through that without fear of causing upset and offence. It would be nice to have their hospitality seeing as we’ll be sleeping under the stars for a while.”

He made a face then smiled warmly at Ecthelion as he tried to lighten the mood. “And you will come because you are the highest ranking of the remaining houses, an excellent swordsman, give sound council and will be able to keep our spirits up with your music on the road. As well as being family and I’m not going without you.”

“I suppose you are right,” Ecthelion nodded slowly, the compliments warming him and he leaned into Glorfindel’s side with a soft sigh. His hair was loose and soft waves tickled the side of his face lightly. “Trust a Vanya to be so optimistic about travelling through lands full of spies of the enemy.”

“That’s the spirit! And only quarter Vanya, if you will,” he encouraged and Ecthelion could feel the tension leaving him through their shared bond. He relaxed too.

“Best then to, how did you put it? Make the best of a bad lot? If we’re going to have to go, we should at least try to look forward to it; we won’t have to worry about anything from Egalmoth or Írissë.”

“No, although maybe avoiding spending too much time with my uncle would be for the best. It’ll be good to catch up with Findekáno too, I’ve sorely missed his company, even if his choices are somewhat questionable.”

“Might be best to keep that opinion to yourself when we arrive? I don’t really fancy having to defend your honour against either your cousin or a Fëanorian.” Ecthelion gave Glorfindel’s leg an affectionate pat and reached for his wine. “Best to enjoy this too,” he said with a smile returning to his lips, “and a comfortable bed. We may not be getting either again for a while.”

“I can defend my own honour well enough, thank you and yes, I quite agree.” Glorfindel took the cup from his hand and Ecthelion only watched with open amusement as he drained it in a draught and stood. “I do believe we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Time to retire?”

Placing the cup down he took Ecthelion’s hand and pulled him willingly to his feet, unhooked the lamp near to the door and they headed out together.

“I suppose I might stay the night here then?” Ecthelion enquired innocently, a much more relaxed smile now on his lips as they walked together a very respectable distance apart.

They passed one of the members of the house who paid them no more attention than was usual; a nod and a polite greeting.

“Yes.”

---

Turgon was out on the balcony of the top floor of his tower; the highest point in the city and therefore the best view. Or it would have been, if the storm clouds were not rolling in from the north. He watched idly, the breeze picking up and stirring his hair. It was dramatic from this distance and if he were more artistic, perhaps he would have thought to capture it in oils, but he wasn’t and instead he just thought about how ironic it was that the weather had decided to reflect his current mood. He thought that Lord Ulmo must be finding this whole thing rather amusing.

A knock came and he sighed, straightened up and walked back into his office.

“Lord Laurefindil, my liege.” A young squire bowed before him and Glorfindel stood a little way behind in the corridor still, awaiting entry.

“Send him in.” Turgon stood behind the large desk that sat before the open balcony doors and waited for his captain to come in before he bade him sit and did so himself.

Glorfindel was tall, even by elven standards and was almost level with Turgon himself. He wore the colours of his house; the customary white linen with green accents and shining gold brocade. He had the well-honed physique of one who spent the majority of their time in training with a sword and as such, cut a striking figure. That paired with his long golden tresses and there was no mistaking him in a crowd. Nay, he almost shone.

Turgon thought all of this, not for the first time and with a slight prickling of irritation, bemoaning the fact that he could not be sending him on a different mission, one much more personal. For surely he would have made a greater impression, as well as being higher in the line of Finwë as to hold a more compelling argument…but alas, this would have to do.

Glorfindel sat through this scrutiny patiently, seeing the intense look that he was being given and wondering yet again if he had done something wrong to have been called in separately, but waiting for Turgon to start the conversation before speaking up.

“Laurefindil, I trust all is well? How goes it in the House of the Flower? Do your men like their new armour?” The smiths had only recently finished kitting out Glorfindel’s house, making the adjustments so as each suit was custom fit to his owner as to allow maximum movement in combat whilst accommodating Glorfindel’s precise design aesthetics. Rog was very proud of his house’s work, as he might be.

“Very well my king, thank you. And yes, they like them very much; I can already see that the new recruits have more discipline than previously now that they look the part. Plus, it means we are that much better prepared for any- eventuality.” He swallowed on the last word, eyes glancing to the open doors behind the king and the rapidly darkening sky. He hoped it wasn’t a foreshadowing, for he had an ill feeling creep over him, as sometimes happened, of fire and darkness enveloping them from the same direction, but he shook it off momentarily.

“Good. That’s good to hear.” He was stalling and they both were aware of this fact. Presently, Turgon let out a sigh of the long-suffering and sat back in his chair, one hand reaching to tap out a staccato on his desk.

“Look, Laurefindil, you know why I asked you here-”

“Actually, my King, I don’t.” He looked a bit awkward.

“No, well…” He sighed again.

It wasn’t like Turgon to be this coy and Glorfindel’s over-active imagination was working ten to the dozen as to what this could be about. Of course, his thoughts went straight to the usual topic, being the only real thing that actually gave him cause for concern. He didn’t believe he’d done anything else to warrant any form of punishment. Watching him carefully he blinked and on instinct braced himself for the worst.

“My king-“ he started but Turgon seemed to make a decision and cut him off.

“Enough with the formalities,” he rolled his eyes and withdrew his hand from the tapping, sitting more upright. “Your mother calls me by my name and has no issue with it; it feels odd to have you speak to me as one of the ordinary citizens.”

“With all due respect, it might seem well, disrespectful to the citizens not to, don’t you think?” Glorfindel countered, now becoming a might confused as to where this rather odd conversation was leading. “They pay no mind to my mother doing so for it’s the right of an elder relative, is it not?”

“Perhaps.” He paused, “but we are not within earshot of anyone now, so let us be open with one another, shall we?”

“As you wish my- Turukáno,” he said, the familiar name sounding somehow foreign to his ears and he had a sudden flashback to days long since passed when they perhaps were not easier, but simpler. He never had been a fan of politics, an artist and proficient at athletic pursuits and wielding a sword, Glorfindel much preferred to leave the games of power to others who were higher in position than himself and perform his duties in ways that suited him better. Thankfully he had managed to do just that, being fairly happy with his lot, but he had a distinct feeling that that was now about to change and it filled him with a strong sense of foreboding.

Turgon offered him a small smile which Glorfindel supposed was intended to put him at ease, but if anything it did the exact opposite. Never before had he questioned his decision to follow his cousin into hiding, despite how angry Findekáno had been with all of them. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms and he was hoping that this visit could go some ways at least to repairing some of the rift that had been created.

“I have been thinking for a while now, as you know is my sworn duty as the King, on the safety of our city, of our people and on how long we may remain hidden. I have sought the counsel of Lord Ulmo, but he has not come forward with more than he has already previously revealed. I would, therefore, seek to bring about an… allegiance. One which might, ere the end, if what has been foretold is one day to come to fruition, bring us aid and perhaps even enhanced protection. That all should not be lost.”

Glorfindel didn’t miss the emphasis he placed, but managed to keep his expression carefully neutral. It would be best, he thought, to keep all objections and opinions to himself, for now.

“Now, you know that I would have yourself along with Lord Ehtelë and lord Egalmoth escort my headstrong sister to visit with Findekáno. Long has she been needling me to allow her passage outside of Ondolindë and long have I refused her. However, a thought that had come to me some time ago has been weighing on my mind and I have come to a decision. A decision which, I hope, will secure our futures and bring about a longer lasting peace and unity to these beleaguered lands.”

He fixed Glorfindel with a piercing look, hands spread flat upon one another on his desk. “You are to escort Írissë to Findekáno and whilst she makes her visit I would that you travel into Doriath to seek audience with King Elwë Singolo and the Lady Melian and,” he smiled and nodded to himself to confirm his own thoughts, “their daughter, the Lady Lúthien.”

Glorfindel’s sense of unease was growing and he wished for a strong drink. This, he thought, was Not Good. In fact, it was so very Not Good that he was already jumping ahead to conclusions as to just what the intention of this royal visit might be and frankly, he would much rather go and spend the rest of his days down one of Rog’s mines than go to Menegroth if he was correct.

“You wish for me to seek out the Lady Lúthien and you speak of an alliance. Is it then that you think she might hold some power that might bring aid to Ondolindë?”

Glorfindel thought that if he stated the fact boldly enough that it would work better and the truth of the matter would out more quickly, for he feared that if Turgon did not soon come to the point he would end up saying something that he would regret. Painfully, it reminded him of just how much he was not cut out for the necessary parlay of political life and he wished fervently that Turgon would speak plainly so as the matter might be done, even if it were unwelcome.

“Yes.”

Glorfindel’s heart lightened.

“And no.”

Turgon seemed to hesitate for a split second but his eyes did not leave Glorfindel’s and he nodded to himself as if making a final decision.

“I would have you petition for an alliance between our people through kinship, as a union between the house of Finwë and the house of Elwë would be strong indeed, would you not say? And I believe that were such a force as has been foretold ever be sent forth and we are discovered, were we able to protect ourselves from without as well as within, surely it would be all the better. For is it not said that the Lady Melian holds such enchantment as to bewitch all those that dare to tread upon her girdle? What then if her daughter might favour us here with an enchantment in kind as like to it?”

“I am not sure I follow your thoughts,” Glorfindel said, frowning, “for you cannot be asking that I petition for the fair Lady’s hand? Such a thing is impossible-”

Turgon huffed loudly and rolled his eyes. “No no,” he dismissed his question quickly, a wave of his hand, “though I cannot say that I have not bitterly lamented that the possibility is closed to us. A fine chance that would have been and stronger than any other, if you had not already taken a spouse. Alas also that both Elwë, as well as I, have borne daughters; for had one been a son would not it have been also a good match? But nay, there is but one other and therefore I put it to you Laurefindil, that the honour be given to your nephew. I would hope you may speak to him in such ways that he would find it a great blessing to be named as suitor.”

Glorfindel steeled himself and set a resolve. He reminded himself sternly that he had vowed to follow his kinsman as king and thus his duty was to carry out his will. His principles would not let him do anything against the will of the Valar, and the laws he also set upon himself, but otherwise he had no case to make a refusal. However, it was set out in the beginning that no elf should marry save for love or at the least of free consent. He felt great anticipation of the danger laid before him and not a small amount of protectiveness towards Voronwë, who was innocent in the knowledge of all Turgon was planning for him, without consultation. Voronwë was so young, barely three hundred years of the sun passed since his birth was such a short time in comparison to the slow coming of age under the trees in Valinor. His heart went out to him, though he knew nothing of this talk.

A gust of wind from the impending storm blew in and rustled through the papers stacked before him and Turgon rose and shut the doors tight. It broke some of the tension in the room.

“What say you?” Turgon remained standing with his hands upon the back of his chair, leaning in and studying Glorfindel with keen interest.

“In what way do you envisage this being agreed upon?” Glorfindel asked, “for I do not think that Elwë will agree to give away his daughter’s hand lightly, if at all and not without seeing and speaking at long length with Voronwë. Believe me. You have not met him; I am not entirely sure I would that my nephew had to… Elwë is not one to be trifled with.” He did not mention his brother and sister-in-law’s almost certain wrath, for he felt it would be dismissed out of hand.

“I would go myself, you know this much,” Turgon countered, “but I have duty to my people.”

“With all due respect, that does not answer the question,” Glorfindel countered, not letting the duty card take top draw in this round.

Turgon smiled. “Not is it without reason that you are beloved of the city, for you are ever the voice of reason and diplomacy. If it is not meant to be, if he would not be willing to broker such a beneficial joining of our peoples, then your visit will be that of an emissary looking to secure deeper relations with a neighboring kingdom. And if he would be in agreement, with his daughter’s own free will, naturally, then I have faith in yours and your companion’s strength and valour to be able to bring the fair lady safely to us.”

“You make it sound so simple, yet there has ever been rumour amongst those who hail from his people that Elwë holds little love for the Noldor. That he has suspicion, even though he has held friendship with Artanis and Findaráto. That there are those who would speak to him of Alqualondë-“

A widening of eyes in warning brought Glorfindel’s argument up short and he stopped, shaking his head slowly. Again, he bit his tongue for want of speaking out. He wanted naught to do with this, yet he could see when he was backed into a corner with little hope of escape. He was in check, one more move and the game would be over.

He’d thought himself somewhat immune to it all, that the part he played already was enough, but he wasn’t in the slightest. He might not have raised a hand in Alqualondë, but he’d been there before and afterwards too. Had stood and felt the righteous anger of his uncle and cousins as it had risen in himself. He’d grown up fast and had been part of the fabric of life in Vinyamar. Staying with Turgon even when his mother had left for a time with her brother, already men loyal to him after leading them to battle. Thrown in at the deep end as most of them were, mostly surviving through sheer force of will and gut reaction rather than any great skill in war. That had necessarily needed to change, swiftly and thankfully he was bright and a very fast learner. He might have seen himself as just a captain then, another lord in the host, but he wasn’t.

“This is bigger than you or I, this is the fate of all of our people. Would you deny that Laurefindil? Is it not the line of Finwë, not Elwë, who is most persecuted of the peoples of this land? Have we not redeemed ourselves many times over since our arrival, doing naught but protect and all of those who have need in Beleriand, including those of the King of Doriath?”

This was deteriorating fast and Glorfindel groaned inwardly, recognising when Turgon was going down the rabbit-hole, as he tended to when his blood was high.

“No, I don’t deny it, but I counsel you to perhaps seek not to garner his allegiance unless you can make a better argument than one such as that you have put to me now. That Elwë has great power and is beloved amongst his people, who stayed behind and denied the call of the Valar, only for their loyalty to their King. If we make a mistake, if we anger him and he turns against us seeing either a slight, or worse a deception and an attempt to usurp his kingdom, then it could indeed hasten our doom.”

Turgon’s expression spoke of displeasure and Glorfindel would have wavered if he wasn’t so convinced of the need to at least try to dissuade him from this path. No-other was in council and he knew it was likely fruitless but the burden to try had fallen squarely upon his shoulders.

“Perhaps,” he said carefully, before Turgon had had chance to interject, “there is another who would be more fitting a husband for the Lady. Findekáno is of higher rank than Voronwë and he is not yet wed. Would such a match not aid us still? I will have need to return for Írissë in any regards and as such I could arrange for them to meet, if it was agreed upon. Still it would be a union and still it might be agreed that we would be afforded protection and aid at such a time as it would be needed.”

Turgon’s lip curled and he blinked slowly. “Hmm.” Glorfindel felt a small flare of hope, though it was dashed quickly.

“I fear that my brother would not be in such an agreement in this matter,” he said, “no matter how much my father would delight in it. You know just as well as anyone, for it is an open secret, he has too close relations with Nelyafinwë. Even if this might be his saving grace, that he could repent of his ways before he has crossed the line that would seal his fate, I believe he would not be willing. If little love, you say, would Elwë Singolo hold for the host of Ñolofinwë if such talk of our strife has indeed reached his ear, then less still would he hold for the host of Curufinwë. For I do not hold myself foolish enough to believe that they would willingly give up their friendship. This, I will not do. He has brought this strange fate upon himself. Had he wed properly already, it may have been different.”

He looked Glorfindel squarely in the eye, expression unreadable. “Those who take such paths must necessarily accept the consequences. Which means bending to the will of others and accepting their charity if they wish to retain their positions of good standing. In my brother’s case, his place is at our father’s side to do his bidding. Would you not agree, Laurefindil?”

Glorfindel’s blood ran cold and his stomach dropped like a stone. The judgement against Findekáno was chilling to hear and he wondered if the brothers had spoken on the matter and if the bitterness at Turgon’s leaving had not been worsened by it. He felt the familiar stab of fear strike his core and an echo answered in his soul.

Worry not, I am well he thought and sighed.

Turgon had called checkmate, whether he knew it or not and his final piece was defeated. He had lost the heart to go on with the debate when all it did was bring him close to dangerous territories, which would be best dealt with at a much later date. Now was certainly not the time to come to the defense of Fingon either, when there were more pressing matters at hand.

He stood and nodded. “Then, my King, all that is left is to make the arrangements.”

---

 

“Chin up you two, anyone would think that you were being sent into exile the way you’re treating this! I mean, wasn’t it you, Glorfindel, who told me you wished for more adventure? I don’t know, there’s no pleasing some folk. Personally, I’m quite looking forward to it, even if you’re not.”

Can we leave him with Findekáno? He liked it there. He could do with someone so optimistic around the place. He wouldn’t even need to convince his Lady into leaving then…

Glorfindel hid a snort of laughter into his mug of ale and Egalmoth slow blinked at him across the table.

“You know, that’s rather rude,” he said with a quirk of brows towards Ecthelion, whom he guessed to be the source of Glorfindel’s mirth, “do share with the table what’s so funny?”

“I was just remarking upon how wonderful your enthusiasm for this journey is Egalmoth, nothing more. Peace, my friend.”

“Besides,” Glorfindel chimed in, “it’s actually true. I can’t say as I’m looking forwards to this as much as I might have thought I would be,” for reasons he wasn’t about to share where they could be overheard in any case, “but we’ve made the same journey before and managed to do so without being discovered. And there were a great deal more of us going back and forth then than four riders.”

Ecthelion hummed and eyed him suspiciously, whilst Glorfindel studiously kept his own eyes on his drink and pointedly ignored the probing looks. He knew that was not going to be a fun conversation.

“Move over, make some room!”

All three looked up as they were joined at the table by Duilin and Penlod on one side, sliding onto the wooden bench and pushing Glorfindel and Ecthelion together, then Galdor and Rog, who swung his legs over to sit beside Egalmoth. He set down a pitcher of ale and four mugs before proceeding to fill them and top up the others already there.

“So, Turukáno finally gave in then and you three get the pleasure of keeping the fair princess company. Some of us get all the luck and I expect I can make a good guess as to why too.”

“Do tell then Rog,” Penlod said, “because it’s really very hard to work out why he would send his cousin, his highest-ranking captain and…well why is he sending you, Egalmoth?” He smirked at him and raised a brow.

Rog laughed and knocked his mug against Egalmoth’s, slinging his free arm around his friend’s shoulder before taking a drink.

The Lord of the Hammer cut quite the imposing figure. He was broad and tall with powerfully muscular forearms from countless hours at the forge, but it was his short-cut hair that made him stand out amongst his companions; sensible for his given profession. Though for all his brawn he was quick to laugh and his was the most tolerant house out of all in the city.

“Come now Penlod, you’re making him blush!” he laughed and they all chuckled.

It was well known that Egalmoth had designs on one of the ladies of the palace in Barad Eithel. He had courted her for quite a time and had been fair distraught when she had decided to move with Fingolfin and Fingon with her parents, whilst he had left with his brethren and friends with Turgon’s host. He was far from being the only one who had loved ones beyond the borders of their valley; so many husbands and wives, children and extended family as well as those betrothed were separated, but dwelling on it in sorrow did no good at all.

“I’m going because it would be unfair on Aredhel to have to bear the only bow and because these two mangle Sindarin so badly that they would be as good as no use at all should we have need to seek shelter or passage.”

“Well that’s not exactly fair,” Ecthelion frowned, a bit put out, “I think I’ve improved quite a bit in the last few years.” Glorfindel chuckled and patted his arm.

“Be that as it may, you’re the most Noldorin looking Noldor I’ve ever met and Glorfindel here,” Egalmoth gave him a beaming smile, “well he managed to butcher translating his own name, so I hardly think he can be trusted to get us through!”

Glorfindel harrumphed. “Ha ha. Very funny. It’s not my fault that your language is less expressive. You don’t have enough words to describe things properly.”

“And you have too many,” Duilin countered, also being Sindar, “and I’m certain that you could have come up with something better than Gold-Locks if you’d given the slightest bit of thought to it.”

“Now boys,” Salgant interrupted, appearing behind Egalmoth and smiling at them all with a sly look upon his face, “play nicely.”

“Salgant. Good of you to join us. Please, I’m sure we can find some room.” Rog’s smile was all pearly whites and the effect was as intended, for Salgant visibly paled. Though to give him his due he didn’t back away as many might if Rog looked at them in that way.

“Thank you but no, I was on my way to call on a friend for supper and I wouldn’t want to be late.”

“No, Eru forbid…” Ecthelion mumbled and Glorfindel was left again hiding a snigger in his mug as Salgant glared at them both and huffed indignantly.

“Quite,” he said loudly, “but I was passing this way and guessed where you all would be and quite predictably I was right. You know, as Lords you ought to be frequenting higher-class establishments, but there’s no accounting for taste, I suppose.”

“It’s good for our people that we are not seen as so far above them in station that they do not feel unable to be open around us and trust in our leadership,” Glorfindel said, matching him in tone, “or would you not agree?”

“Oh, I quite agree in some aspects, but I would not think that should include rabble-rousing with them also. You can be respected well enough, I find, without needing lower yourself to their level. Although, I can see how some of us might have a greater need than others to ingratiate themselves to gain favour, given other inadequacies…”

He smiled in Glorfindel’s, then Ecthelion’s direction, whose postures both stiffened. Galdor, never one to care for what anyone thought of him and ready to flatten the pompous buffoon given half a chance, rose and pointed a finger into Salgant’s ample chest.

“You’re out of line in speaking about anyone in such a way, be it any of us or the good people of this city. Never have I heard it said that the qualities of the food and drink at one’s table were of higher import than being in the company of fair and honest people.”

“Honest!” Salgant spluttered, outraged and turning red in the face.

“Yes, honest!” Galdor countered angrily, “as if you would know! You’ve never known an honest day’s hard work in your life!”

“Galdor, peace.”

Glorfindel had stood and placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, pressed him to sit back down before turning to Salgant himself and shook his head

The contrast between Glorfindel and the squat and portly figure that Salgant cut before him was indeed as comical as it was striking. Salgant might well have been turned out in the blue and silver fineries of his house, hair in intricate braiding and ornate clasps, but it didn’t do much to make up for his sneering expression and lack of the good figure that should have been afforded to him as one of the Eldar.

He placed one hand on his hip and straightened before the Lord of the Golden Flower, as if he could make himself taller.

Glorfindel couldn’t rightly understand anyone who didn’t delight in movement and strength, comradery and all of the good things that Eru had provided them, instead preferring gluttony, the gathering of wealth and influence, and jibes at others expense; who let themselves become lesser for it. So instead of anger he looked upon him with a measure of pity.

“Your opinions are quite well known,” Glorfindel said in a measured voice, “and we have no wish to hear them again this evening. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be thought of as lowering yourself as we do by being here, so perhaps you shouldn’t keep your friend waiting any longer. Unless there was something else you needed?”

“Oh no, Lord Laurefindil, no I won’t stay, you’re quite right.” He smiled slyly again, a tightness to his eyes that belied his simmering anger at being insulted. “Do excuse my interrupting, I merely wanted to wish the three of you good fortunes for being chosen to guard our fair princess on such a dangerous journey and let you know how sorely you’ll be missed. Particularly yourself and Lord Ehtelë; I don’t know how we will hold the city’s defense and morale without the command of two such paragons of virtue. Though how fortuitous it is for you too! I realise how much you must miss the company of Lord Findekáno, you always did have so much in common.”

There was a line. They all knew of the line and sometimes they crossed it, though never too far. Then there was Salgant. Who was so far over the line that it was but a shadow in the distance.

The surrounding tables went silent as the other six lords stood too and Salgant, being Salgant, didn’t even attempt to hold his ground.

Glorfindel held out an arm that stopped Ecthelion in his advance and had to fair shout at him silently to stop, receiving a low growl in return. He glared from behind Glorfindel’s shoulder and Salgant’s eyes bulged as he took a hasty step back, fearing the worst.

“Oh, don’t piss your pants,” Rog chimed in with all the aplomb of his own folk, as he pushed past and folded his arms with a look of derision on his face. The contrast between them was even starker.

“No-one cares. Lord Egalmoth, Lord Laurefindil and Lord Ehtelë will all be missed, for they bring more to this city than someone like you could even dream of. What do you offer, Salgant? Apart from sullying what should be good music with distasteful verse and spreading negativity wherever you go?  You squander your own Eru-given talents and scorn those who choose to nurture their own. If it were not for your wealth, you would not have your own house and everyone knows it.”

“Rog!” Glorfindel admonished with a measure of shock, his voice commanding enough that even Rog jumped. Salgant was puce with barely contained rage at the public drubbing and when Glorfindel turned his glare on him he didn’t need to be told; he left hastily with his nose in the air. Glorfindel internally groaned, knowing there would be come-back from this in the future.

The people around them seemed to realise they had more important conversations to hold rather than eavesdrop on their captains and the chatter rose up around them again as the tension slowly left, along with the Lord of the Harp.

All but Rog and Glorfindel sat back down, now more subdued but making an attempt to regain their earlier good mood, whilst the two remaining stood close and spoke in low tones that no-one was close enough to hear who shouldn’t. Ecthelion shot them a glance and Glorfindel noted the stiffness in his shoulders even whilst his fair face was smooth and without concern as he turned back to the conversation.

“No-one cares,” Rog repeated and rose his brows at Glorfindel, who pursed his lips then sighed.

“No, not everyone thinks that way and you know that damn well!” Glorfindel hissed in a low tone, leaning in. “Willful ignorance on the parts of many isn’t the same as acceptance and it doesn’t do to draw attention. Salgant can be counted on to run his mouth, people expect it of him. Whilst I’m grateful that you’re willing to defend– us, my friend, I fear that if you push him too far he’ll upset the whole balance. Turukáno is still labouring under his own illusions, in spite of crass verses that might reach his ear and I would that it stays that way a while longer.”

Rog looked Glorfindel square in the eye. “If you want to believe that, then I will not interfere, but I would that you consider your position. Perhaps not now, but it could be the opportune moment to sort this out when you return. Perhaps you might discuss it with Findekáno whilst you are there. He might be able to offer some advice.”

Laurë, be careful, there are those who have hearing better than your voices are lowered enough for and this is dangerous…

Glorfindel shook his head and passed a hand over his face. “This is neither the time nor the place, as you know full well. What would you have me do? Even if we didn’t have to worry about ourselves, there is my mother, our King-“

Too much is at stake…

“My Lord, as much as we hold love for you, we would all rather not have to go through this farce time and time again. No matter how you play it, it cannot hold out. I’m sorry to say this and I hope you’ll forgive me; but you decided on your fate and you need to deal with the consequences.” He glanced Ecthelion’s way, who was sitting silent amongst their friends and could tell by the set of his jaw and tightness around his eyes that he had known the speech was not meant for Glorfindel alone.

“Come now though!” he clapped Glorfindel heartily on the shoulder and smiled, a genuine smile. ”Let’s speak no more of this tonight. Time to see if Egalmoth has it in him to bring a bride back!”

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Chapter End Notes

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