Now and Evermore by Katie Tran

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Chapter 2

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(A few years before the Fall of Gondolin)

“Honestly Laurefindil, I know why you are suddenly wearing black this evening,” Ecthelion scoffed.

The Lord of the Fountain usually wore white robes like Glorfindel did. Because of the rare, annual celebration of Mid-Autumn that governed every year (just like Mid-Spring, Mid-Winter and Mid-Summer did,) he had discarded the simple but elegant robes for something a bit more festive in light of the occasion. The light, blue robes draped beautifully on Ecthelion’s tall and lean figure. The silk robes had intricate and delicate silver embroidery around the collar, sleeves and hem. The complex designs looked like shimmers of mithril gleaming with every wave of Ecthelion’s movements.
His long, black hair was pulled back at the sides with their custom warrior braids.

Glorfindel looked up at the elf whilst he fastened the brass button of his wrist sleeve. It was true that he opted for silk, black robes today; an unusual color seen on him. He didn’t know why Ecthelion looked vaguely peeved about clothing of all things.

“Oh?” He raised a brow. “And why am I supposedly wearing black, pray tell?”

Ecthelion grinned and wrapped an arm around Glorfindel’s broad shoulders.

“You think I am ignorant of your vanity? The dark color clearly contrasts with your lovely, golden locks which I know you love to show off,” He teased.

Instead of rising to the bait, Glorfindel smirked at his friend. Having been by each other’s sides since Glorfindel was welcomed into their King Turgon’s family as a little elfling - throughout Fëanor’s exile and desertion, the two chiefs of Gondolin were thick as thieves. Inseparable.

“Jealous?” He poked at Ecthelion’s back. “I cannot help it if my coloring happens to draw attention wherever I go,” He added with a tad of smug.

“Never jealous,” Ecthelion shook his head and ran a hand almost reverently down Glorfindel’s hair.

“Although my romantic preferences are obviously of the female kind, anyone with eyes can see that you are beautiful, Laurë,” He said it so seriously, it was both comical and endearing.

Glorfindel threw his head back with a hearty laugh. He executed an extravagant and exaggerated bow.

“Why thank you, my dear, lord Ecthelion. I am most honored I have your expert opinion and approval amongst everyone else’s.”

He rolled his grey eyes and gave Glorfindel a swat to the back.

“Come. We ought to be in the main courtyard outside for I believe the music and dancing have begun.”

Glorfindel pulled out a simple gold circlet with a diamond pendant and adorned it high above his brows – the metal ends that curled like vines tucked in his plaits neatly. Brushing at invisible dust off his chest, he finally joined Ecthelion down the stairs.

oOo

The Mid-Autumn festival that King Turgon held each year in his great city was glorious like the high white buildings of Tirion that was the inspiration for the city itself. This year, it was no different. Elves of all kinds dressed nicer than they usually did.
The most delicious courses for dinner consisted of delicacies such as smoked meats in buttered bread, quality spice cheese and fruit cakes with rare berries. The elves in charge of Gondolin’s brewery proudly passed around a special, sweet wine made of fresh apples, oranges and fragrant flowers from King Turgon’s very own orchards made for this holiday.
Even some of the Telerin elves from Doriath would visit and participate Mid-Autumn.  

Elf maids looked their loveliest, lined up and waited hopefully for an Elven man to take notice and ask them to dance which would lead to eventual courting. Normally, it was the elves of high statuses (lords, advisors, seneschals, captains and warriors of the King) they coveted the attentions of.

“Ah, Laurefindil, Ecthelion! Good to see you both show up after all,” Itarillë or otherwise known as, Idril’s beautiful form ambled towards them in an opalescent, pearl gown that was almost translucent in its beauty. Her long, golden hair fell in loose waves far past her waist eschewing any decorations which only added to her stunning vision.
“It is not often you two leave your main houses or training grounds. The feast has just started so you both had better make haste if you want a taste of the food.”

Glorfindel gave the fairest lady in Gondolin a courteous bow. A shadow fell over his heart when he gazed down into her deep, blue eyes that bespoke of a sadness.

“My lady,” He greeted. “How are you this day?” He didn’t voice the unspoken thoughts which he assumed Idril appreciated. Elenwë’s death still was an ache that forever would haunt their hearts.

“I am well, Laurefindil,” She spoke kindly, but her stance was straight and proud. “It is Mid-Autumn celebration. Remind us not of things I would rather forget. Amil would not want us to dwell on matters of grief on this day.”

Glorfindel’s brows furrowed, but he acquiesced the request.

“Yes, Lady.”

To this day, he still blamed himself. It was not easy for him to forget that it was his role and responsibility to get all of Fingolfin’s kin to safety; most especially Turgon’s family. He owed his King and his adoptive family so much. Little did Glorfindel know, Elenwë’s death was just the beginning of his many failures.

“Won’t you share a dance with me, my lady Itarillë?” Ecthelion smiled charmingly at the elleth who responded with a grin of her own.

“It would be my pleasure.” And the two elves went off leaving Glorfindel alone to steal everyone else’s attentions in the main dance hall.

“Laurefindil!”

It was Egalmoth. Instead of appropriate festive attire for the evening, the elf opted for a plain tunic, filthy trousers and boots befitting for outdoor indulgences. He was walking fast towards Glorfindel enthusiastically.

Glorfindel glanced at him with a questioning look. “Why are you dress liked that? People want to see you looking decent for once and not smell like horse and mud most especially on this day,” He commented dryly.

Egalmoth only laughed and used his thumb to point towards the back of the terrace.

“You know I have zero patience for all this stiff luxury. We celebrate Mid-Autumn every year anyway - and Mid-Summer, Mid-Winter, Mid-Spring…The men and I are holding a strong bow competition right at this moment. Are you game for target practice?”

Glorfindel pretended to ponder the thought some.

“I don’t know, Egalmoth. I’m a little out of practice so my shots would probably be a little rusty…”

The brunette elf gave Glorfindel a jab to the bicep.

“It doesn’t matter. This is all in good fun. Don’t be a spoil-sport and come join us in the field.”

oOo

At the training station, there were a total of five dummy targets made of straw and leather on the open field. This area was notably used by elven warriors to practice and hone their combat skills. Because of these dark times where Melkor still inhabited and plagued the lands, the training grounds were often occupied so that warriors and Kings alike were always prepared for battle.

When Egalmoth and Glorfindel arrived, there were four more eager elves waiting on them. They were Duilin, Salgant (who looked like he was dragged someplace he’d rather not be) and two other unknown elves Glorfindel had yet been introduced to.

“Duilin, you are our most gifted archer in Gondolin,” Glorfindel quipped. “Do you mind going easy so that at least some of us look good?”

“What is this reverse psychology nonsense you’re spouting, Laurefindil?” Duilin retorted with a humorous, pained look on his fair face. “As if anyone here is fool enough by your humble pretense.”

“Shall we start?”

“Not yet,” Egalmoth chirped and pushed the two elves to the front. “May I introduce Olvaner and Antarion. They have come from Doriath and here to join in the game.”

The two silver-haired male elves greeted Glorfindel and the rest with their hands to their chests that marked the Sindarin way of saying ‘hello.’

Duilin strung his own custom-made bow and shot his first two dummies. The first one hit close to the center and the second one hit straight into the target circle. Even then, he clicked his tongue in annoyance at the first miss. Egalmoth’s turn – and then Olvaner and Antarion went after him.
Salgant, heavy and squat as he was, chose to sit down on the wooden bench to watch uninterestedly. The man wanted to be with his much loved harp and not participate in this drivel; only for the sake of appeasing Duilin and Egalmoth did the harpist come.

Glorfindel carefully strung his chosen bow and proceeded to inspect the meticulously made arrows stored inside the quiver that could only have been made by elven hands. Stretching an arm and a crack of bones here and there, he went to each of his three targets. Releasing three arrows one by one, all three hit dead in the center with a gust of wind.

Duilin sighed in disgust, “I knew it.”

Egalmoth looked askance. “I thought you said you were out of practice!” He accused.

‘I said I was a bit rusty. I never said I was an amateur,” Glorfindel replied with a shrug of his shoulder and Egalmoth scowled.

oOo

Back inside the main hall where music still played gayly, dancing still took place and food was still going around, Turgon handed Glorfindel a goblet filled generously with rich wine.

“To hope of better days, good health, happy families and prosperity,” Turgon toasted. The two of them stood in one corner behind the long table full of refreshments as they watched the merry making of their elven kin.

“To peace and Arda unmarred,” Glorfindel added and took a sip of the smoky, alcoholic drink.
“It is good to see folks smiling for it is so rare to find genuine relief and happiness nowadays. We must cherish these good times. One never knows when the fleeting moments will be stolen from us once again.”

Turgon frowned and looked at his friend who was as good as his brother.

“I want to see your own delight and happiness too, Glorfindel. You have long lived with us and served us well as both family and protector even though you have been named Lord of the House of Golden Flower yourself – basically royalty at this point. I do not want you so duty-bound as to merge in our grief and misfortune. You are charming, charismatic and Valar knows you are too good-looking for your own good. Why do you not take a wife?” He gestured to the string of slender and pretty elleths darting shy and not so subtle, smitten looks Glorfindel’s way.

“See there. Those beautiful maidens seem unattached. Why don’t you make their acquaintance, find one you fancy and start courting? Perhaps a lady love would do you some good. I was married once – still am. I would know.”

Turgon nodded sagely and Glorfindel gave him an amused look. The two delicately stepped over the subject of Elenwë’s passing to Mandos’ dreary halls.

“Since when did you play matchmaker, your majesty Turukáno?” Glorfindel teased using his father name. “Thank you for the advice. For now, I am perfectly content to play guardian and Vanyarin bachelor. I will let you know when I have found a lady to capture my heart.”

oOo

“Lord Glorfindel! Lord Ecthelion! Come quickly!”

At the call of the guards, Glorfindel dropped his sword sparring with Duilin at once and promptly went over to where the source of commotion came whence.

A group of elves gathered at the main city gates crowding around something covered within the group of elves.

“What is the matter? Is something amiss?” Duilin demanded, his weapons were with him just in case.

Everyone slowly backed off at the sight of Glorfindel and Duilin save for Egalmoth holding a woman, bloody and unconscious in his arms. She was in dirty rags, all torn. The wounds on her body were unclear as it melded with the blood all over her person. She breathed unevenly and looked quite close to death. The round ears peering behind her matted hair indicated that was one of the Aftercomers or mortals. Next to her was a little girl with tear stains on her dirty cheeks. For Edain age, she looked to be around ten or twelve years. She looked at everyone around her with distrust and fear. There was blood on her as well, but she did not look to be harmed personally.
The two Edain females did not look to be from around here. They were both very petite comparable to the Naugrim or even the hobbits. Their hair was dark and so were their eyes which while were of moderate to bigger in size, were somewhat shallowly lidded. Their complexions were slightly dark compared to elves and even the Secondborn of this region. If Glorfindel had to hazard a guess, these two mortal woman and girl came from the Southeast in Asiatic lands far on the other side of the world.

He crouched down to get close, sporting as gentle a face as he could, but the little Edain girl hastily scooted away.

“P-Please help my mẹ,” She requested bravely with an odd accent. She gestured to the bloody woman whom Glorfindel suspected was her mother – her amil. What was that word she used? Me? Mẹ?

“These two mother and daughter were attacked by orcs whilst they were traveling. The mother was severely wounded,” Egalmoth informed grimly. “They managed to reach our hidden city somehow before the mother collapsed.”

“Everyone return to whatever activities you were at save for you Egalmoth,” Glorfindel ordered with a rare authoritative tone. “Make way and give them room to breathe. Egalmoth, be hasty and take the woman to the healing rooms. She does not look like she has much time left. I will take care of this child.”

When Egalmoth left carrying the woman, Glorfindel got on his knees to look at the little Edain girl again. Her earlier wariness at him ceased a little when she saw that his people and he were helping her amil. Glorfindel smiled gently and ran a hand, stroking her head.

“My name is Glorfindel. I am one of the captains around here. Your mother is badly injured, little one. We will do our best to treat her with the most quality care. May I ask what your name is?”

She stared at him with wide, dark-brown eyes. She looked as though she did not know what to make of him or her current surroundings – very Elven and foreign to her kind. And yet somehow, when Glorfindel gazed into those brown eyes and saw what flickered beneath the orbs, he felt it in his heart that this little female meant something important in his life.

“Vy. My name is Vy – Daughter of Khiem,” The small voice answered.

oOo

Quenyan/Sindarin Translation

Laurefindil – Glorfindel

Turukáno – Turgon

Itarillë – Idril Celebrindal

Amil – Mother

Elleth – Female Elves

Edain/Secondborn/Aftercomer – Humans/Mortals

 

Vietnamese Translation

Mẹ - Mother