Doubts by Tilperiel

Chapter 1

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“For the hundredth time, no! I’ve made my decision and I’m not going back on it! I can’t show any favouritism!”

“It’s probably the two hundredth by now. Or three. Maybe more, I lost count-“

“Írissë….”

Turgon growled very quietly under his breath and rubbed at his temples. He was developing a stress-induced headache. Unsurprisingly.

Aredhel cocked a smile at him but rolled her eyes, unrepentant and folded her arms. With a dramatic sigh she flopped backwards in her armchair and lifted her gaze to the windows.

“Father would be so happy to see me and Fingon also. They must miss us all so much. Such a shame and without mother or aunt Írimë too. I hope they’re coping alright there, without a woman to bring some sensibility.”

Behind her at his desk, Turgon scoffed. “Did you really think arguing that you would provide sensible council would work? You might have been better to pick another aspect you might provide, perhaps to make the court less dull.” He lifted a brow in her direction. “I think you’re running out of ideas for persuasion. Rather scraping the barrel with that one. Besides, there are plenty of women there too.

When there was no witty comeback Turgon pulled a letter off the top of the pile and breaking the seal, pulled it out and began to read through it. Aredhel was likely just thinking up her next argument, he thought, seeing as she hadn’t flounced out yet and he wouldn’t encourage it by making more comments. That was her usual way when he refused her, but as the silence dragged on, it gave him pause for thought.

He lifted his eyes and sighed quietly.

Aredhel was curled with her feet tucked under her, head propped on her hand and staring out of the large windows to the mountains beyond. Her expression was soft and somehow quite far away and he was caught in memories, his own expression softening too.

She’d always been the same, quick to laugh and a sharp-tongued wit. He envied her a great deal, although would likely never admit to that aloud. She had always been given more leeway in almost every way; freedoms in speech as well as movement and he felt a stab of familiar guilt in denying her her will. He knew that many of his own restrictions were self-imposed, not just those in Gondolin, but as far back as he could remember. He didn’t resent her, they all had their place and he believed in his reasoning completely, or he wouldn’t be so strict. If he had to endure a little annoyance and upset from his sister for the sake of keeping her safe, such was his lot.

Pushing back his chair, he rose.

“Do you really hate it here so much?” he asked quietly, standing now beside her and looking out as she did.

A pause, a weight to it, as he knew she was thinking that through.

“No.” She reached out and took her brother’s hand and looked up at him with a small smile. “No, I don’t hate it here at all.”

“Then why this insistence on wanting to leave? Is it simply the fact that you’ve been denied?”

She barked a short laugh, “I suppose you would think me so contrary and I deserve the accusation for being deliberately annoying. I shan’t apologise.”

“Nor would I expect you to.” Turgon couldn’t help but smile, for at least she was self-aware. “That rather doesn’t answer the question though.”

“If I have to endure one more boring dinner party, I think I shall go mad.”

“You can’t tell me that you’re willing to risk so much simply because you’re tired of the company you keep? I know full well you spend most of your time with friends, not entertaining gossips and social climbers.” Turgon wasn’t a fool and realised she was being evasive.

“No, but then there are others, beyond this valley, who I might also wish to spend my time with. You can understand that, I’m sure.” She sent him a look full of meaning and he sighed shortly and turned away.

“I didn’t realise there was anyone you were so close to in Barad Eithel, besides our family,” he said, hiding his emotions with a practiced air of calm, whilst a wave of grief passed through him as his thoughts went to his absent wife.  

“There might be, there might not,” she said, “but I know for certain that there is no-one for me in that sense in Ondolindë.”

Turgon pursed his lips and stepped closer to the balcony doors, hands clasped at the small of his back and he looked out on the vale. So much was unknown and the words of Ulmo echoed in his mind. Truth be told he’d already started forming his own ideas that might see Aredhel have her way.

“If I were to grant you this, then you cannot go alone,” he said and he heard her noise of surprise behind him.

“Do you mean that?” she asked, wariness in her tone.

“I will think upon it.” He closed his eyes and hoped he was doing the right thing.