Secret Passages by hennethgalad

Secret Passages

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   The ink dried more slowly, the sun had been covered by drifting clouds, and the hot prickle of air before rain set Glorfindel's teeth on edge. He threw down the feather and strode to the windows as the first drops of rain rattled against the glass. He grudged the effort that duty demanded, the reports and letters; those he must read, and those he must write. But ambition had driven him forwards, and if the desk at which he crouched was not the destination of his heart’s desire, at least it was his own. The House of the Golden Flower was the pride of Gondolin, and he was lord.

   He stared out at the rain washing the summer dust from the leaves, and opened a window, feeling the cool air lift the stifled mood from his heart. An aide entered and bowed. 
   'My lord, the lady Idril has sent word, you are summoned, sir.'
Glorfindel nodded silently then turned to see Rossiel, fast friend to the lady Idril, looking anxiously at him.
   'Glorfindel, will you come ? She has broken her masterpiece, and stands barefoot amidst the glass, weeping. Will you come ? She has been... She is very angry, well, you know how things have been, with...' she faltered, but Glorfindel strode across the room.
   'My lady is in distress, I shall come at once.'

   Rossiel talked all the way, she was tall for a maiden, and scarcely needed to lift her grey-green eyes as she spoke of the insidious Maeglin. Glorfindel, who had been distracted by his own affairs, had given little thought to the problem of Maeglin since Idril had married Tuor, assuming the matter to have been settled once and for all. Idril still grumbled to him, but he had not heeded her words, thinking it merely the bitter aftertaste of past woe. But Rossiel told another story.
   'For some time now, you see, it has been not merely Maeglin himself, but the entire House of the Mole. Where before they sought my lady out, and fawned upon her, and lavished her with gifts and praise, now do they but see her than they turn away, and should speech be required they are all, to an elf, distant, polite and cold. I myself am made angry and fearful by their changed mood. It is... Oh I cannot say. But come, or she will injure herself in her wrath !'

 

   Idril had her back to the door, standing barefoot in a glittering pool of broken glass. The rain was heavy now, the lanterns bright in the grey damp air, setting the shards and splinters sparkling like the strands of Alqualondë. Glorfindel lost himself to memory for a moment, but Idril turned her head, and the frown on her fair face softened as she saw him.
   'Oh Glorfindel !' she cried, and he darted across the room, feeling glass crunch under his feet, scooped her up and carried her away, as elves with brooms set to work.
He carried her out across the hall into a small sitting room, set her on her feet and closed the door. Idril sat heavily down and put her hands over her eyes, then ran her fingers through her long pale hair and swept it back over her head. Glorfindel, who had been expecting tears, was astonished to see only cold calculation in her reddened eyes.
   'I am sorry to have caused a scene, but... No, I am not sorry. We must get out of here, out of this valley ! It is no longer a sanctuary, it is a trap ! Something has happened, Glorfindel, something has changed. He has some plan, some scheme. I fear for my husband, Glorfindel, and I fear for my son. But more than that... 
   He knows that I will never consent, I fear for... I fear violence, Glorfindel, for I myself would lift a blade to him, indeed I would !'
   Glorfindel looked at the delicate features of the beautiful princess and thought of Maeglin. Poor Maeglin, whose father had tried to murder him, and had murdered his mother instead. It was a grisly tale. But Maeglin was the cousin of Idril, their parents born from the same womb, it was unthinkable. And the face of Maeglin had lost its beauty as the unthinkable wrought its marks upon his heart. 

   But Idril, fair as the moonlight on the snow of the mountains, looked up at Glorfindel in anguish, and he sat down beside her and took her thin fingers in his hands.
   'I will never permit him to harm you, my lady, it will not happen. You need have no fear. But I crave your forgiveness for my neglect, I have not heeded the House of the Mole, and Rossiel has opened my eyes. Indeed, her words bring before my mind many such scenes as she has described, that I did not have the wit to perceive. 
   But my lady, what would you have me do ?'

   Idril sighed 'Oh Glorfindel, he is so loathesome ! I cannot bear to have him in the same room with me. Ugh ! You do not know how awful it is. I mean, of course you do, you know just what it is like to have someone love you that you do not love.' She laughed dryly 'Secretly, I am in love with you. But I would not slay all those you love until there is none left alive but myself, in the vain hope that your heart would forget the rest, or my guilt, or its own anguish.
   No, that is not it. You do not know what it is like to fear being overpowered. You cannot be overpowered, but I... I am not strong even among maidens. Rossiel might feel able to wrestle a warrior, but I...'
   Glorfindel leaped to his feet 'By Manwë, has it come to this ? Your own maidens urging you to fight, in the very House of your father ? This is intolerable ! I will go to him at once and'
   Idril sprang up beside him and gripped his arm 'No !' she cried 'No, not like that. It is... We must... Please Glorfindel, do sit down, you’re too tall for me to look up at all the time.'
He sighed and sat beside her, marvelling at her calm

   'But my lady, your masterpiece, how did it come to break ?'
   Idril looked at him with narrow eyes 'I smashed it myself. I was shouting at Rossiel, who thinks like my father, that we should remain here, hiding like rabbits in holes. But when the foxes come, the holes are filled with blood... 
   And I quoted to her the words of the Vala to my father "Love not too well the works of thy hands" and she, being angry, jeered at me and said "what of your precious masterpiece then ?" and I, in fury, smashed it to the floor.'

 

   Glorfindel remembered the glassblowers ceremony, when each student presented their final piece, to prove their mastery of the craft. Idril had created a vase, solid only at the base, the rest a sketch of cobwebs draped on bare twigs of spun glass, set with sparkling gems cut as dew drops. It was exquisite, too beautiful for flowers, as Turgon had said. The time and tears the masterpiece had cost Idril had been the talk of Gondolin, but the vase itself had silenced the gossips.

   And now it was destroyed by the hand of its maker.

 

   'But my lady, what would you have me do ?'
   'I want... no, I need a way out, a passage, unknown to all save those such as you whom I trust. We must dig through the rock, under the city, lest our enemies surround us and we become trapped in our hole.'
   'Gondolin is no hole !'
   'Oh Glorfindel, heed me ! Nargothrond has fallen, Ard-galen is burned, the north is in ruins, the High King is dead... poor Fingolfin... We are in a castle of sand, Glorfindel, and the dark wave draws near !'
   'I... Your words are wise, my lady. But surely this is a matter for your father to order as he sees fit.'
   'No ! No ! He trusts that false vermin, he trusts the cool smile, while I, in my wrath, have naught but his snide comments and sneers to report. And the more that vile creature sneers, the greater my wrath, until he laughs with my father at the folly of maidens. 
   Oh my mother ! Where is she now, when I need her ? And my poor aunt Aredhel ! My father has been too long alone, and treats me yet as an infant. But I will not change, for it is not I who am blinded by vanity ! It is he who must change, he who must open his eyes to the truth and turn from the false counsel of the corrupted !' She stopped, gasping with the strain of her anger.

   Glorfindel drew in a long breath, and let it out slowly. 'Very well. A tunnel must be dug. And for this, naturally, you would turn to the House of the Mole, but you cannot. I begin to see a little of your fury. But come, surely you cannot think them traitor ? They cannot overcome the armies of Gondolin, and all save those closest to Maeglin would die sooner than see you hurt, my lady.'
   'No, listen, Glorfindel, do ! The danger I fear is that the Enemy himself draws near, you know he seeks us ! And that with the Enemy all around, and those hostile to me within, I fear I shall be trapped ! I must have a path to freedom ! I must save Eärendil, and my darling Tuor, and you and Ecthelion, and Rossiel, and, well, as many people as we can, you know ?'
   'My lady, I am honoured by your confidence, and proud that you would choose to save me. And indeed Ecthelion, who I believe we should send for at once. He knows about digging, and tunnels, and such matters. But I do not see how we can do this thing in secret. You are loved by others than Maeglin, and do you but drape your cloak differently, all Gondolin will know of it at once. We must... We must have a diversion, a distraction. Ecthelion will know what is needed.'

 

   Ecthelion surprised Glorfindel by being aware of the change in the House of the Mole. He laughed at the gaping face 'Oh Glorfindel, you cannot be the centre of attention and at the same time watch quietly from the sideline ! You do not see their sneers for you see only laughter and smiles wherever you go. But those of us less fortunate than you are uneasy, and there have been raised eyebrows in certain circles.' He bowed to Idril 'Though, alas, your father will hear no hard word against his poor Maeglin, who is, after all, the child of his dear sister. 
   A tunnel through the rock ? That would be a mighty undertaking ! And to do it in secret... My lady, it could be done, but... Wait...' He rose to his feet and put a hand to his brow, then slowly paced across the floor, his head bowed, his smooth dark hair hanging forwards, hiding his face. Glorfindel grinned at Idril, certain that Ecthelion would see to things for her. Idril grinned back at him and gripped his hand for a moment.

   After a little time Ecthelion stood upright and shook back his hair 'I have it ! We shall have a secret that is to be kept only from Glorfindel, and the air of secrecy will not then raise concerns. We shall discreetly let it be known that I am building a little summer house for Glorfindel, who grumbles incessantly at the dusty heat. It will be north, in the cool of the shade, with fountains and ferns and rockeries. But Glorfindel will know nothing of it, for we shall tell him nothing, and he shall sport carelessly for the delight of Gondolin, while their amusement is seasoned with the smugness of those who know a secret.'
   Glorfindel gaped, but Idril nodded thoughtfully 'That is an excellent plan, Ecthelion. It would be... We could not move... rocks and earth without questions being asked. And indeed, we could not hide our secret any more than Maeglin has hidden his, though we do not yet see his plan.'
   Ecthelion sighed 'It may be that he merely awaits the... forgive me, my lady, the death of Tuor.'

   There was a shocked silence. No one but her father had ever dared to speak to Idril of Tuor as a mortal, who faced imminent death. Glorfindel sucked in his breath and frowned at Ecthelion 'Steady, my friend, consider the lady !'
   'I am considering the lady, and the true nature of her problem. Courtly manners can be used as weapons, you must have learned that much by now. Maeglin has been using his position to make Idril feel uncomfortable, and the fact that he is so furtive makes it impossible for her to be anything other than polite. Besides which, they are close kin.'
   'Uncomfortable ! I would slay him for her ! Surely he has become an orc, though he has not left Gondolin. It may be that he was corrupted before ever they came here ?'
   But Idril shook her head 'No, no, father had the wise question him, and he opened his thought to them. All was well with him, he was the child of our dear Aredhel, in truth. And for a time I cared for him as a dear cousin. But no longer !
   I wonder... I... Perhaps it is merely that he too feels the trap that the Music has sprung on us, the trap we built ourselves, and he chafes at the prison bars. It must gall him to see that which he desires ever before his eyes, and ever beyond his reach. And worse, thrown away, as he would see it, on a mere mortal, who will soon be gone...' her voice tailed away.

   They were silent, considering the black wall of death that all mortals face. They knew that death occured, but they could not imagine it, for none had passed that wall and returned to speak of it.

   'Oh I will tell you ! I... We were to keep it between ourselves, but I... You will make it possible, only you can save us !'
   Glorfindel and Ecthelion looked at each other, then at Idril 'Tell us what ?' Ecthelion asked her.
   'I dream often of the shores of Alqualondë, but not as we knew them, under the Light of the Trees. I see them by moonlight, from the deck of an elven ship. And the towers glow, the sea sparkles, and the many deep shades of blue enchant my heart. For the first time I considered that the sun and the moon could be better, no, more beautiful than the Light itself. But of course, to those born under the stars of Varda, even the moon is too garish. 
   And my dream returns to me, often, and when my joy becomes great in the dream, I turn and there is my darling Tuor beside me, his face vanishing into the golden glow of his smile, and I awaken, and he is there beside me, and I make him smile for me.'
   Ecthelion frowned at Glorfindel then spoke carefully to Idril. 'Do you... Are you intending to... I... that is to say...'
   'Yes. We shall sail for Valinor. What have we to lose ? He will perish, whether or no. If we do not go, we will...' she swallowed, then spoke in almost a whisper 'we will be parted beyond hope. 
   But it may be... It may be that they will show us mercy, or generosity, or pity. I will plead for us. I will plead for our love, which has been as a bridge over the abyss that divides our peoples.'