The Song of Our Making by Tilperiel

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Judgement

Returning to Nevrast to face the music.

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Before them now loomed Mount Taras, where upon sat the city of Vinyamar looking out towards the sea, where Turgon ruled those of the Noldor who had given him their allegiance and the Sindar who had joined them. Outside the city walls they were greeted upon the road by riders, the guards who were out patrolling the parmeters around the settlement, who had spied them coming from afar. 

“Ho! Is that you Laurefindil? Ehtelë? We had thought you might be lost to us; that Elwë had seduced you into staying in Menegroth with his Maia Queen!” It was Lord Penlod and another that they hadn’t met before, a Sindar by his look and he eyed the two curiously whilst Penlod rode ahead to greet them.

“Aye, we’re back,” Glorfindel stopped his mare and patted her neck as the two approached. He had a knot of apprehension in his stomach but smiled nonetheless, for he was relieved to be home no matter the circumstance.

“What on Arda happened to you?” The newcomer had joined them and wore an expression of open confusion as he stared at one, then the other. “It might not be entirely my place to say, but you do rather look as if you’ve been wrestling with thorn bushes, the pair of you. Had you not spare uniform when you left?” He looked to Penlod for explanation. “They are guards of the city, I take it? I recognise the insignias on their cloaks at least, although they don’t look as if they should be and you say they’ve been to Elu Thingol’s Halls? I would call that poor form, myself, but I suspect their own lords will have comment enough.”

“Forgive me, but you are?” Ecthelion cleared his throat loudly and interrupted the rather blunt assessment with a raised eyebrow, whilst Penlod stifled a laugh by coughing into his fist. Glorfindel had gone a little pink, for he rather took pride in his appearance if he could help it, squaring his shoulders and he surreptitiously combed his fingers through his tangled and wayward hair, as if that might help. Yes, they had been gifted clothing whilst in Menegroth and they wore those now, very distinctly Sindar in design and not at all their usual attire, being in the dark greens and browns of the woodland folk. Both though had their own travelling cloaks over the top, Ecthelion in deep blue with silver gilt and Glorfindel in pale green damascened with gold celandine, each baring the insignias of their respective houses. Neither were in good condition. That coupled with the fact they’d been on the road for the last few weeks and they were rather in need of baths; however much they rankled at being brought up short as such, the newcomer did have a point.

“Lord Duilin, perhaps it would be wise not to throw insult at the High King’s nephew and his best friend, hmm?” Penlod suggested lightly with a smile and it was Ecthelion and Glorfindel’s turns to chuckle as Duilin quickly turned red. Penlod laughed too, then looking both Glorfindel and Ecthelion over with an appraising eye he raised a brow pointedly, “but he’s quite right, you both look terrible.” He squinted, adding “and do not think that I have missed that there have been weddings, with no brides in tow.”

Glorfindel sucked in a fortifying breath and held it, looking out over the coast to their right-hand side whilst he gathered his wits. His horse clearly felt the sudden tension through her reins, for she dropped her head low and shifted on her feet. Beside him, Ecthelion glanced his way and let out a loud exhale. The humour had vanished from the moment and Penlod and Duilin both had the common sense to notice and not make further light of the matter.

“I see,” said Penlod in an understanding tone, “well, in that case, perhaps we can ride on ahead of you and have them know you are arrived. I’ll ask your houses to have food and warm baths prepared.”

“Thank you.” Glorfindel managed a small smile and with a last glance between them both and a nod Penlod turned, Duilin looking most uncomfortable with the whole thing joining him and they pushed their horses on to a canter towards Vinyamar. 

“Come on,” Ecthelion spoke up, pulling Glorfindel out of his thoughts, “a hot bath and food sound very good right now. Last push?” Glorfindel nodded and they followed.

Reaching the gates to the city they were opened for them without question and the horses were led away by two squires as they dismounted.

“Take care of them, they’ve been through much,” Glorfindel gave his mare a last pat as they departed, finding his legs again as he’d been riding for so long.

They took it slowly as they made their way through the winding streets towards their respective homes, it feeling much more than one season since they had last been there. They received some greetings and many looks of open surprise; it wasn’t a common thing for two well-respected lords to be seen in public so weather-worn and in foreign clothing. Congratulations were given by more than one too when they were accosted and they spoke and soon they had picked up their pace, wishing they lived closer to the outer wall.

Glorfindel stopped at the divergence of paths, looking up the cobbled streets from one side to the other. One would lead him up to his home, the house of the Golden Flower, built more recently as they’d removed from the rooms afforded them in Turgon’s palace, where no doubt his family was already waiting for him to arrive. The path to the right would lead down to where Ecthelion’s home was set closer to the harbour. Here they would be separated for the first time since their bonding. That part didn’t bother him overly, but the surge of panic on facing his family certainly did.

“Likely as not, Turukáno will not be there,” Ecthelion said, knowing the reason behind his hesitation, “but if he is then he won’t blame you for wanting to rest before talking.”

“My mother-“ Glorfindel started, glancing worriedly at Ecthelion and biting his lip. Ecthelion couldn’t help but drop his gaze to them and they both felt the pull to comfort one another, not daring to do so.

He placed a hand on Glorfindel’s arm lightly. It was a small gesture of affection and much less than either of them would have liked.  It would, however, have been seen as much odder they reckoned if they ceased all contact, as they had ever been noted for their close friendship. Glorfindel covered his hand with his own.

“We’ve been through this-“ Ecthelion sighed quietly, glancing around and making sure no-one was listening. He frowned. “If you need me there then I’ll come right away, but our best bet is you seeing them on your own this evening.”

“Yes, yes I know.” Glorfindel nodded releasing his lip and he shook his head, waves framing his face where they were loose, “but I cannot-“

He was starting to feel irrational panic and blew out a shaky breath, Ecthelion not saying aught but giving him the time to calm. He wasn’t feeling exactly happy either and Glorfindel’s rising dread was coursing through him as an echo, but one of them needed to be strong. 

“Where’s that faith that you always seem to hold?” Ecthelion coaxed gently, “after everything we’ve been through, all of us, it’s going to be alright. Come now, it’s usually you telling me.”

Glorfindel closed his eyes and took a moment to compose himself, searching for inner strength and straightening. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He found it so much easier to be the calming and positive influence for others, but when it came to himself he was at a loss.

“No need to be,” Ecthelion said and squeezed his arm before releasing him, stealing himself to part and go to face his own people. “I would that our positions were reversed,” he said with a curve of a small smile, sadness in his eyes.

“No, you don’t,” Glorfindel’s lips curved similarly, “you said it yourself; my family are a nightmare.”

“I like your immediate family well enough,” Ecthelion shrugged and looked over towards the path he needed to take, the lamps starting to glow as the light failed for the evening.

Glorfindel nodded, a press of lips, “let’s hope the feeling stays mutual.”

“You doubt me? No-one can resist my charm, you certainly cannot.”

He was about to retort, falling so easily into soft banter, when they were spotted with a call and a lady approached. Glorfindel, catching himself in the moment, greeted her with pleasantries enough that it would not be a long conversation.

They both then took it as their cue to part and alone they made their ways to face the music.

---

 His mother had wept for a long time when he had entered the house. As soon as he’d come into sight she’d pulled him away to retire behind closed doors. Glorfindel hadn’t been able to hold back his own tears and with them his years receded and she had held him and stroked his hair; all of the months of pain and grief were released as a flood. He need not have worried, for even as she beheld his face and her eyes belied the shock of knowing what she saw there, she asked no questions of him that night. She simply allowed her beloved first born to take his comfort in her embrace, without the need to relive his troubles.

As Ecthelion had predicted, his cousin was not there, only his close family. Aranwë and Ilmarien with Voronwë holding her hand, hiding behind his mother’s skirts with wide eyes as Glorfindel did his best to pull himself together before his young nephew.

“It’s good to see you, Laurefindil,” Aranwë greeted him with a sad smile and clasped his arm, patting him on the back, “we were wondering if you would return to us, or if you had decided to stay with Elwë Singolo instead.”

“Yes, you and others too it seems,” Glorfindel said, stepping back, “do you all think I would depart on a whim as such? Or is it wishful thinking?”

Aranwë laughed, though there was pity in his eyes. “It’s good to see that you haven’t lost your sense of humour whilst you were gone. Although-“ He stopped himself and glanced at his wife; Ilmarien reaching to squeeze her husband’s arm in solidarity. “I am sorry for your loss. I’m sure you don’t wish to talk about it tonight, but you know you have my ear, brother.”

“Thank you,” Glorfindel managed, dropping his head and pressing his lips together, his vision shimmering and not holding out any longer. It was less easy to do so, he found, now he was within his own four walls. Lalwen pulled Glorfindel away then and chivvied him towards the stairs that he could bathe and rest as he just nodded, unable to speak more, for exhaustion was taking hold.

In his own house Ecthelion had found comfort from his extended family there; cousins, aunts and uncles who fussed over him and probed with questions. They were not so reserved as Glorfindel’s kin and wanted to know what had happened, but he was able to hold them off with insistence that he needed sustenance, to wash and sleep; which was not at all false.

In this way he found himself in his bed and only then did he reach out to Glorfindel, finding much relief in feeling him not happy perhaps but sleeping, which was enough for tonight.

---

 

Fingolfin paced back and forth before the two young lords, tall and imposing and not at all pleased. They were the only three in the room; Fingolfin had called them for a private audience, for which they were very grateful. As it turned out, he’d arrived only a few days before they had returned and had they been just a little sooner setting out or quicker on the road, they would have met outside the city, which was something they were very grateful not to have happened. He had come visiting family and friends as well as asserting rules for his son, seeing as he was High King after all, now that the snows had cleared from the pass and before they all removed from Vinyamar.

Needless to say, they would have preferred an audience with Turukáno.

Glorfindel watched him as he waited for the questioning that was coming their way; deep blue robes with silver edging, not unlike those Ecthelion favoured, trailing floor length behind him as he turned again, now heading over to the throne in the centre between them where he sat to observe them both.

A glance over at Ecthelion and Glorfindel noted how he looked completely composed, as usual; serious expression and straight back. Yes, he looked tired, dark circles beneath his eyes betraying their weary state of not having had time yet to rest, but that was only to be expected. He could feel an undercurrent of stress emanating from him and felt sick with nerves himself, but was hoping he looked as put together, whilst fearing he did not.

Calm, Laurë

A very small twitch from Ecthelion’s lips, the only indication of his having noticed anything at all.

Fingolfin cleared his throat and Glorfindel’s attention snapped back to his uncle, who gave him an appraising look before sighing and addressing them at last.

“I am most displeased, with both of you,” he said in his deep voice. Glorfindel’s heart sank through the floor. This was it, he feared.

“Before I go on, I would hear what you have to say for yourselves,” he continued, “for I will assume there is explanation behind this; that you wouldn’t have deliberately disgraced your families without very good reasoning.” His tone brokered no argument. It said very clearly that if they weren’t extremely careful, they were soon to be in deep waters; although, it seemed from what he eluded to he knew what was between them already. At least, however, it looked like they were going to be able to say their piece first.

Before they would be banished. Most likely.

Somehow however, Glorfindel found himself feeling much calmer at his words and with the stress and deep unease of needing to lie gone from the equation he found his courage. He had great love and respect for his uncle and as forthright and serious as he was, he’d also heard him laugh, long and loud. He called on those memories now, of the person he knew who cared deeply about the need for love and respect and most of all, the importance of family. No matter what form that took. If he could still love Feanor after everything they’d been through, there was hope.

So, lifting his eyes to meet Fingolfin’s he spoke with a steady and clear voice, albeit a quiet one, feeling Ecthelion turn to him in surprise.

“Your Highness,” he started, “of course, neither of us had any intent of laying disrepute or disgrace upon our families, however much that is the case. I would- nay, we both would humbly ask that you hear our reasoning and the story in full before passing final judgement. You’ve known both of us all of our lives and you know how much reverence we both hold in duty and loyalties.”

“Laurefindil,” Fingolfin said slowly and steepled his hands under his chin, reminding him of being stood before Thingol previously in similar circumstances. The difference here being that his gaze was not guarded and there was a depth to his eyes that showed he was not bereft of feelings. “So as like my fair sister, yet I sense in you a deal of the fire of my brother, also. You are young and speak with the earnestness of youth. Yes, I would hear of all that has passed before you have returned to us. I can only assume that your time in Elwë Singolo’s court must have been…fruitful.”

Glorfindel coloured at the implication of his statement, but he held his nerve and Fingolfin’s eye, knowing the King was usually kind and fair. He had to trust that at least some measure of each would be granted to them today.

He shook his head, sadly, cheeks cooling. “Nay, it was not,” he said and began to recount the sorry tale of their travel and encounter with the wargs, feeling somewhat detached from himself as he did so, for it was as like watching another speak. It was not wholly un-welcome a feeling, for it meant his voice remained steady.

Before he had finished however, with a note of surprise, Fingolfin interjected. “Ah, then I understand,” he exclaimed and his hands came down from his chin to rest on his knees and he nodded to himself.

“You are not the first to find yourselves in this predicament, even though I would still call it foolhardy of you, given your journey across the Grinding Ice. I would have thought you both would have learned then that it is unwise to seek to heal one’s beloved by binding in such dire circumstances, when on the cusp of fading.”

Glorfindel froze and just about managed to retain his composure somewhat at Fingolfin’s misunderstanding, the exact same as Thingol. At his side however, Ecthelion was less than pleased.

We cannot! If we lie now and are found out later, we’ll never be trusted again! We’ll be thrown out on our ears!

This buys us time! It’s not long term, I’m not suggesting that. I feel awful too but-

“There is no need to look so worried,” Fingolfin said, thankfully not seeming to notice their silent conversation, “I am still not happy about this, not at all, but now I can see what has happened I do not think it would be fair or right to lay fault or chastisement upon either of you; for I understand as well as any what it is to be sundered from the one you love most dearly in your heart. I had thought, it seems wrongly, that you had slighted us by choosing to wed in Doriath. Without your families to give blessing and without the ceremonies that should have been due to two of your rank and standing amongst our people.”

He looked at Glorfindel and his voice softened some, which only served to drive the guilt at the deception deeper.

“I know that I speak for many when I say that we had all hoped soon to see your betrothal, Laurefindil, for it has been long since there has been a royal wedding and you made a fine couple. Alas, that it is not to be, but fate has taken much from many of us and you have my deepest sympathies.” Glorfindel nodded, mutely.

“And you too, Ehtelë,” he turned to Ecthelion, “you, who are as close as kin to Laurefindil and therefore to me also, I would offer my sincere condolences too, for I would that you could know such happiness. I hope that it may be the will of Eru, for you both as for us all, that you are reunited one day, once the curse laid upon us has passed and Lord Námo has released their fëa from his care.”  

Glorfindel didn’t even dare glance across at Ecthelion, for he knew he was upset and perhaps angry too that they were allowing Fingolfin to believe his false conclusions, even though he hadn’t spoken up. So both sat silent, not quite knowing how to respond, for even though they knew that this was wrong, they were indeed young and had not the courage in those days that they would possess in later years; when the world had hardened them and they would care much less of the opinions of others on their moral compasses. Glorfindel in particular.

They had therefore left Fingolfin that morning with their chief feelings being shame and confusion. Finding themselves later in a secluded cove on the beach, looking out over the calm waters that sparkled in the afternoon sunlight, they were subdued and melancholy for what had passed. It was now truly behind and what was ahead was not overly promising, which they feared was to be to be many years of hiding.

Only when they had assured themselves that they could not be spied upon, for the rocks surrounding them afforded them such cover as they might, did they lean against one another. Ecthelion wraped an arm tight about Glorfindel’s shoulders as he rested his head against him.

“What’s done is done,” Ecthelion said quietly, answering the unasked question that he knew full well was in Glorfindel’s mind. His anger had abated quickly, realising that it wasn’t going to aid them at all and really, if he admitted it to no-one but himself, he was glad of the reprieve. If only for a while. “We must move forwards now. In whatever way that might be.”

Glorfindel didn’t disagree. “Tomorrow I’ll speak to Turukáno, I believe there is already a council put together so as we can plan the removal of goods to Tumladen. I would like to make sure that my house sends its fair share of aid.” It was easier to start to think on practical matters, of jumping straight back into duty.

“I’ll come too. I was starting to wonder whether it might be better to stay, that removing ourselves wouldn’t be right and I know your mother would have been happier- but I think now it’s our best option. I don’t think I trust in going instead to Ñolofinwë now.”

Glorfindel looked surprised at the admission and was about to question him over it, but then it was no longer on the cards, so a moot point best left behind. “No. Quite.”

He closed his eyes and nestled in closer against Ecthelion’s side, reaching to lace their fingers together. Quietly he mourned that he could not have given him a ring and that the ceremony his uncle had spoken of could never have been. It hurt his heart and Ecthelion squeezed his hand, turning so as he could press a kiss into his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I did not want this for you.”

“Don’t. Please- please don’t.” Glorfindel whispered back and twisted about in his embrace to look him in the eyes. It was surprising still seeing his own soul reflected back in the soft grey, but not in a bad way and he smiled, in spite of everything.

“I’m not sorry. Not for loving you, not for marrying you, not for any of it. The only thing to be sorry for is that it has to be this way and I can only hope that one day we will see the reason why Eru has made it so. But I wouldn’t change if given the option, I would still that you were here. With me.”

“Such passionate words. You should wield a quill, not a sword.” Ecthelion smiled ruefully and touched a soft hand to his cheek.

He leaned in and with a small sigh pressed forwards for a kiss and they both cared not for a while of the incoming tide or the slowly failing light. Their breath came hot and it was good for a time not to think, only to find comfort and safety in one another. For in those days they were still very young and had the passion of youth also, which gave them longing in one another beyond just the sharing of pleasant company. They ignored then also the spots of rain that began to fall until it became a steady downpour that caused them to part, blinking up to the skies, clothing beginning to soak through.

“Let's go to speak with my mother, I want to do it sooner rather than later. I know you still hold reservation, but if there’s any chance at all of us not being found out within days, she’s it.”

“Must you speak of your mother now, Laurë? Really? I could think of other things that would be more preferable,” Ecthelion grumbled, rather worked up and decidedly of a mind to go back to something other than see Glorfindel’s family. Glorfindel however only laughed, his face already flushed and feeling in better spirits as he stood and began brushing his trousers and shirt down from the sand that clung onto them.

“If anyone will be happy for us, it will be her. I’m confident in   that, at least,” he smiled and reached to help pull Ecthelion to his feet and helped him with brushing sand off too, blinking rain out of his eyes.

“Well, I hope you’re right about that. You do seem awfully confident.”

“Oh, I think she likely knew this was coming before either of us did.”

Ecthelion raised a brow and caught Glorfindel’s hand up where it was swatting at his leg still. “And you only mention this now?”

“Well-“ He blushed and looked at him through his lashes, “sorry?”

“Yes. You do look very sorry,” Ecthelion said with a short laugh and a shake of his head, wet strands of hair sticking to his face.

Glorfindel moved them and kissed his cheek in recompense. “I will make it up to you later. I promise.”

“If your mother approves.”

“Ehtelë!”

Ecthelion laughed, the rain coming down harder now and he narrowed his eyes into it. “Come on, if we don’t wish to be drowned then I suggest we go now!” and they both hurried to clamber over the rocks and headed back up the path.

By the time they reached Glorfindel’s home they were soaked through and much of their exuberance had faded, the reality of their forthcoming confession hitting home and despite the turn of weather and their being the only ones on the street they walked slowly to the gate.

Voronwë was in the hall running in circles with a hobby-horse as they entered and he stopped to stare at them.

“Grandmother will be mad at you for making the floors dirty,” he told them very seriously, in the way that only a child can.

“How about you go and fetch her for us?” Glorfindel asked with a small smile and off he ran on his important errand.

“He’s the image of your brother at the same age,” Ecthelion remarked as they took the stairs to Glorfindel’s chambers and entered his room, going to change into dry clothing.

Pulling open the wardrobe Glorfindel rummaged through and tossed back a shirt, pulling one out for himself.

“He is, and of my father also,” he replied, whilst pulling trousers from a dresser and handing those over too. “Not altogether a bad thing.”

They were both stripped down and busying themselves with re-dressing and talking as such, so preoccupied that the soft knock upon the door went unnoticed and Lalwen came in before they were fully decent. Ecthelion was helping Glorfindel with buttoning one of his cuffs, shirt still open and distracted as they were, he was leaning in in a manner not becoming of mere friendship as she coughed politely and they both jumped.

“I’m sorry, I can come back-“ she looked between them both and smiled whilst they hurried to part.

“No! No- I mean-.” Glorfindel let out a breath noisily and quickly finished doing up his shirt, stealing a glance at Ecthelion who had turned away to do the same but looked decidedly composed. Lalwen in the meantime had just shaken her head at them both with a smile, closed the door softly behind her and seated herself in the window to wait.

How do you do that?

Do what?

Ecthelion raised a brow at Glorfindel who was looking annoyed at him, but before they could continue Lalwen interjected.

“Voronwë told me you had asked to see me?” she said lightly, “might I assume you didn’t mean in your rooms?”

Glorfindel made a face and she laughed at him. “Oh, come now Laurefindil, I’m your mother. There’s nothing you need be embarrassed about in your own home. Besides, I believe it’s best we’re in private to talk, don’t you?”

Her tone was still light and her smile soft, whilst Glorfindel’s stomach rolled and he couldn’t quite meet her eye as he nodded and sat on his bed to face her. It dipped down when Ecthelion sat beside him.

“Laurë-“ she said quietly and he looked up, seeing a touch of sadness in her as she looked back at him and he pressed his lips together. She reached over and took one of each of their hands and held them firmly, looking at them seriously in turn.

“I know,” she said firmly, leaving no room for doubt on what she meant, “and I’m sorry. I know how hard this must be for you, but I love you. We love you and I promise to be here for you, as much as I can be. I would that the circumstances had not been as such, that it was not at this time but-“ she blinked and a tear spilled over, which Glorfindel immediately went to wipe away and she shook her head, leaning back and stopping him.

“No, I’m fine. This is just- well. Not what I would have wished for you,” she said, echoing their own words. It was a recurring theme, one that was filled with sadness and as it seemed, unavoidable.

“How did you know?” Glorfindel asked quietly, feeling quite miserable more than anything else, knowing he had brought sorrow upon her, even though he still couldn’t find it in himself to hold any regret.

However, instead of falling into becoming upset she laughed once more, dropping their hands and wiping her cheek as she gave them both a rueful smile. For as ever, the Lady Lalwen was the lightest of heart of all the house of Finwë and even though she had lost much already, including her own husband upon the ice, always she was still able to find cause for joy in most things.

“I have eyes,” she said simply and Ecthelion’s mouth fell open, a look of deep concern on his face.

“Then what would you council?” he asked, “for I can’t think for a moment that all will be as accepting as yourself, my Lady, however grateful I am that you haven’t tried before to prevent this and forbade me from your house.”

“Forbid you? Really, Ehtelë, you do have the musicians’ flare for drama. I could no more send you away than Laurefindil, for would either of you go alone? I don’t believe you would have, even if you had not bound yourselves to one another. I also don’t think this would be a great shock to many others, either. Have you not had great friendship from the very beginning of your meeting?”

She spoke plainly and they were grateful for it, for it saved their fumbling, which would have been no doubt inevitable. However, that she believed them to be so plain in the sight of so many as she indicated had them both feeling sickness in the pits of their stomachs, knowing that they would have even greater need for careful behavior from now on.

“The same is said about others too,” Glorfindel muttered, “is that not the exact same phrasing that Ñolofinwë despises regarding Findekáno and Nelyafinwë?” Ecthelion snorted in spite of himself, covering his nervous outburst quickly. Lalwen just gave him a stern stare.

“Yes and I’m not suggesting this union be made known to him either,” she said firmly, “and seeing as he’s not here demanding to speak to you or to me, I’m assuming you haven’t been so foolish.”

“No. He assumed that we wedded Lady Istin and Lady Elanoriel,” Glorfindel admitted uncomfortably and ducked his head. Ecthelion reached and touched his finger tips to his arm softly.

Lalwen just rolled her eyes. “As fond as I am of my brother, he never has been able to recognise what is in front of him for what it is,” she commented, “always seeing what he would prefer instead. ‘Tis half the reason we all sit here rather than in the palace in Túna, but in this case, it is for the best. For now, at least, let us keep it that way.”

Glorfindel’s gaze snapped back up and she sighed with the tired exasperation of a long-suffering parent.

Both Ecthelion and Glorfindel both looked so young in that moment her heart hurt and she was painfully reminded of them in their childhood; two young lords of their houses running amok whilst both sets of parents perceived more than either of them would come to realise for many more years.

As close as brothers most would remark with smiles, but somehow something inside told her differently. Watching them grow to maturity, when neither was fully themselves unless the other was near. It was only through long years had she come to acceptance of what would be Eru’s will. Long had she argued with her husband, who did not share her thoughts, until he too had come around in the end, seeing how his son was grown into a kind and generous person, Ecthelion gracious and fair in all his deeds. Dark and light, both strong and loyal, complimenting one another and seeing his wife’s wisdom in observation, that indeed they were but two halves of a whole.

They hadn’t left Ecthelion’s parents out of the conversation either, approaching them and discussing the matter for long hours, behind closed doors. Whilst it was not the way of the Noldor for such a pairing to be tolerated, let alone accepted and knowing that the risk of discovery carried the penalty being disowned and loosing all standing in reputation; they were united in not wishing such a fate for the two. It showed something of the strength and generosity in spirit from both sets of families that Glorfindel and Ecthelion had been accepted, even before they had realisation themselves that they had need of any such thing.

Scant time passed between that moment however before fate had taken both Glorfindel’s father Arindil and Ecthelion’s parents too from them upon the Helcaraxë and Lalwen had sworn then that she would always support her family as best she might for all of them. For Lalwendë, daughter of Finwë was strong of heart and mind as any of her brothers.

Her eyes shone brightly and she blinked to clear her vision, smiling upon them and shaking her head from of her thoughts.

“The lie does not sit comfortably,” Ecthelion said with a short sharp huff, looking to his hands and an unhappy frown between his brows.

“With me, neither,” Glorfindel agreed and he glanced at Ecthelion and sighed deeply before looking to his mother for guidance.

“No, but it took your father and I, and your parents too Ehtelë, some years to see the good in this and accept what we knew it might mean, and that was in years of peace and plenty. Here, now, when things change so quickly and emotions run high, I fear quick judgement if you were to say aught outright. Our people need you both, very much, and it would do no good to anyone for public scandal to be made. I say this not because I don’t have faith in you because I do, but let Ñolofinwë and Turukáno both come to see the truth of the matter in their own time. I can’t be certain, for everything that’s happened proves that nothing at all is, but I believe in my heart, deeply, that all will be well, in the end.”

She spoke plainly and with conviction and neither Glorfindel or Ecthelion had words then to express enough gratitude to her, though they tried, as faltering as they might have been when taken so off guard.

They rose only to bend and embrace her warmly and she laughed and chided them for their own tears; each crying in sheer relief at finding such love being shown to them. They had a lot to discuss and a long road ahead, but knowing they were accepted by their parents if no-one else gave them such hope and the resolve to make them proud.

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Chapter End Notes

Lalwen is a wonderful person and I have a special place for her in my heart.
Love your children no matter who they are.
Happy Pride month everyone