The Illgotten Son by Gadira

Prelude: Not Unwilling

This has been completely rewritten. (the notes have been used again, though)

Thanks to Margit for her beta.

Read Prelude: Not Unwilling

"Tú ya no puedes volver atrás

porque la vida ya te empuja

con un aullido interminable." (J. A. Goytisolo)

Prelude: Not Unwilling.

She wanted to see the sky. Not that dense, oppressing ceiling of leaves that allowed only the light of some stars to fall upon her face, but the sky of her youth, the high dome of the land of her wanderings. And she had tried very hard, the deep lacerations in her skin and dress could tell.

Aredhel cried. It was a cry of rage and impotence, as the throbbing pain of life about to explode forced her to fall to the ground on her knees. She had wanted him to be born free. To be herself free. She had wanted...

A cold wind blew over the trees of the forest, and its lingering sound seemed a lamentation that echoed her cries as she choked in darkness. Years, years. How many years? She had wanted to endure, to be strong; she had wanted revenge.

She had wanted...

o-o-o-o-o-o

Faerroch had known it long before her, as always, but she had not wanted to pay attention to the growing uneasiness of her faithful steed. She had wanted to enter that forest, for she was tired and she thought, with good and sound logic, that there they would have better chances to find some animals to eat and wood to build a fire.

She did not know that sound logic did not have anything to do with sheer horror. If she had known, she would not be there now; but she had entered the forest cloaked in her own daring ignorance, and so she fell prey to the dark spell.

Trapped.

Hateful bastard, thrice-cursed son of darkness. He came to her while she was trying to find her way out of there, tall and silent, handsome but grim; and the agonising light of a star revealed strange features of an unnatural pallor, half covered by shreds of hair of a blonde colour that had sadly waned to something whitish as the hue of his skin. His eyes were red, like blood and fire, and like them they scorched her deeply, painfully, mirroring his lust for her.

"I am Eöl, lord of the forest of Nan Elmoth." he said, when she swallowed her anxiousness and asked him for his name and intentions. "And I want you."

Then, of all things, she had laughed! The brave and fearless Ar-Feiniel, of course, how could she have done otherwise? She had never suffered anyone to think she was afraid, even if perhaps the quick pounding of her heart and the shivers that traveled through her spine against her wishes told her that this time she was in true danger. But she did not pay heed, to Faerroch or to herself, and accepted his invitation to stay that night at his house.

"Come with me. This is your house and mine, the house of the Lord and the Lady of Nan Elmoth."

"At least until tomorrow." she replied, smiling.

She was never to go out again.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Why, why, why? He had never answered that question, as if it was something beyond him that he could not quite explain. Why? she asked repeatedly, struggling and trying to reach for her sword, realising that the strength of the Noldor was this time overpowered by the hidden and terrible might of the Moriquendi. As it was wont to happen, he defeated her. She could still see herself there in her worst nightmares, reduced to a helpless body pinned against the wall, and trembling in anger and dread while he stroked her hair hungrily, ready to take everything from her.

She was going to die.

Anger.

He was coming closer. He was taking her clothes away, ironically doing his best to try not to harm her before she left her hröa forever.

No!

"My wife you will be until the end of Arda."

"You are fey! I will..."

But then, he kissed her. Her mouth full, she could not speak any longer while he took her in his arms to enter her body in a powerful stroke, and pain and humiliation filled her in a confused turmoil. She would endure everything, except to die this way, forsaking life to escape the lustful embrace. She could endure pain, for a warrior she was, but to die! It was unfair. It meant leaving her without any chance.

No...

Slowly, she felt her eyes beginning to lose focus as the thrusts became harder, and her hatred for that man redoubled. I will kill you, oh, yes, I will kill you one day. I will stay a Houseless One to haunt you!

As she could, feverish Aredhel grabbed Eöl with her remaining strength and refused to let that last thread of hope slip from her hands. Unexpectedly, his efforts began to give her body some feeling of pleasure, and without thinking twice she shut her damaged mind from reality and summoned to her the last remaining memories of happier encounters in a different world.

She would survive.

"I love you", she willed herself to say.

"And I you" his deep voice answered her. With a graceful and slow movement, she wiped the drops of sweat from her brow, and her black eyes sparkled with a mischievous challenge.

"Is that all you are willing to offer?"

Eöl could not hold himself after that, and they made love again and again; two, three, four more times. During all the night, they fought, they claimed, they surrendered; until he became exhausted and a triumphant howl escaped her lips. Then, she dragged him down to the floor, and there they embraced and sighed contentedly gazing at each other´s eyes, the Lord and the Lady of the forest of Nan Elmoth.

Revenge...

o-o-o-o-o-o

It was through. The shriek of the mother had turned into the wail of the newborn one, and now Aredhel was posessively clutching in her arms the tiny shape that had been the fruit of her womb. The child who had made her discover that she could still love after so many years.

Shhh...Do not cry... Her gentle caresses tried unsuccessfully to stop his heartfelt protests for having been born in such a horrible place. I did what I could. I tried to give you the light of the sun, to climb to the tallest of all trees so your eyes could greet the light of the morning, but I failed. Child of Twilight you will have to be for now, my precious, my love.

In spite of her weakness, Aredhel knew she had to feed him. She made an effort, and found the right position to give her little one her breast. That quieted the baby immediately, and she used the opportunity to have a closer, enraptured look at him.

The child.

How beautiful he was. How small and seemingly helpless, yet she knew that he would grow to be taller than her one day. He would be a great Noldorin warrior; that destiny was written already in the little bush of dark hair which grew in his forehead, and in the sparkle of radiant light dancing in his wide curious eyes. He would be a strong and handsome adult one day.

Her heart. Her son.

Aredhel had been taught that children had in them a share of both their parents, for they were the fulfilment of their wish to become one. Yet, she could not believe that this law could hold true when the mother had been forced to lay with a man against her will. He was her child, it was written in his very face, that mirrored her traits and not Eöl´s. Even if she was aware that her husband was going to try to take him away from her, he could not change that he was her son, who would learn to love the light of the sun with the years, and who would ride with her far from Nan Elmoth to the open plains and to the fair Hidden City.

"Lómion, my son." she said while she rocked him lovingly, tears welling up in her eyes. "You will be my freedom."

o-o-o-o-o-o

Hours after the second meal she had missed, Eöl was beginning to be seriously worried about Aredhel. He was not very learned in women´s things, but he knew that she was in a very advanced state of pregnancy and that this could make her unusually weak. The thought of his wife lying on the ground, unable to move, was seriously haunting his mind, and he decided that, despite his promise of leaving her roam alone, it was time that he went to search for her.

But, as he was wrapping a cloak around his shoulders at the threshold of the house, the Dark Elf suddenly heard a faint wail accompanied by a rustle of leaves. Immediately, he stopped dead, and raised his head.

There she was. She was tired to the point of breaking down, stumbling as she walked, torn and dishevelled as a tree struck by lightning. And, clutched possessively in her arms there was a very small baby, who was trying tenaciously to find her pale breast.

"Aredhel!" he cried, searching for words for the first time in his silent life, and rushing towards them. But the new mother turned away.

"Do not touch him! He is mine!"

And then, she fell to the floor.

(To be continued)

---

Chapter End Notes

Notes:

The name of Aredhel´s horse, Faerroch, means "Spirit Horse". The name was suggested to me by Aerlinnel.

As the Elves are generically called "Quendi", Moriquendi (Elves of Darkness) is how the Elves who stayed in the dark lands of Middle- Earth when the Valar summoned them to Aman are called by the ones who did, the "Calaquendi" or Elves of light. I suppose "Moriquendi" must be a little insulting.

Trapped in Darkness

Read Trapped in Darkness

I´m trapped in darkness

(but) Still I reach out for the stars

("Thorn", by Blind Guardian, from "Nightfall in Middle Earth.")

He would always remember distinctly that day.

As soon as he woke up, and noticed that the stars had just disappeared from the sky, little Lómion jumped from his bed to hide in the big wardrobe. Keeping very, very still, without even daring to breathe, he heard the door fling open, and the heavy footsteps of Eöl entering the room. Fortunately for the child, however, he only looked around once before he turned away, closing the door behind him.

With a triumphant grin, Lómion crawled out and stretched himself again in the bed, hands behind his nape. Today, he was not going to any long and boring sessions in his father´s stifling forge. He would not have to sit still and motionless for hours, watching the smiths as they knocked those red hot portions of steel until they took shape, and taking good care not to move or ask anything, for fear they would silence him with a hard look. If only he had known before that it was that easy to avoid! But, he then reminded himself, he had been a baby before. And his father seemed to believe he still was, for he had not even thought of looking inside the wardrobe.

Where was Eöl going to search for him now, Lómion wondered as he rolled lazily over the mattress. Most likely, in his mother´s chambers, if he had not been there yet. Lómion had discovered that he was ever caught there.

He had to wait.

Finally, after a long while, the child heard a clash of metal in the distance, and he knew that his father had begun the work of the day. Good, he thought. Now, he could go outside without being discovered.

o-o-o-o-o-o

At such early hour, the corridor was not only plunged in darkness, but also in absolute silence. Any other child would have been frightened out of his wits if he had needed to cross it alone, but Lómion was, as his mother-name revealed, the child of twilight, born in darkness and quiet and used to it even at this tender age. As his perpetually sullen father was always imposing silence in his house, it did not matter to him anymore if he was alone or no, for it was the same; nobody would talk to him.

Except only one person.

"Mama!"

The door of Aredhel´s chamber was closed...no, it was ajar. Carefully, the child pushed it and stepped inside, but it was so dark he could not see anything. Was she there?

"Mama..."

Nobody answered his call.

" Mama, are you here?" he whispered again, now in their secret language.

All of a sudden, before he ever knew what was happening, Lómion felt two lean but strong arms that encircled him from behind and lifted him up from the floor. A clear laughter he knew very well rang in his ears, and the hands began to tickle him playfully.

"Help!" he cried, giggling helplessly and trying to pull himself free. "Mama, put me down!"

At last, Aredhel threw her son upon the bed, and stared at him with her hands on her hips.

"So you have managed to elude your father this time!" she addressed him, rather amused than displeased.

"I did not want to be with him. I wanted...I wanted to be with you" The child looked at her with pleading eyes. He knew, however, that it would make no difference at all, for his mother would never betray him.

She never had, before.

"Oh, really?" Aredhel said, smiling in the way Lómion adored, while she lifted him again to sit on her lap. "And, what would you like to do? Maybe go for a walk in the forest?"

As she said that, her son´s face brightened at once.

"Yes!!"

o-o-o-o-o-o

In the midst of his happiness, Lómion felt like he was floating over the rooftops of the house. He let his mother dress him, comb his black hair and give him breakfast, and then both went out, holding hands and laughing pointlessly. As if he had suddenly grown wings, he led her through shaded paths and giant oaks at a quick pace; for Aredhel, not being born in Nan Elmoth as her son, did not have his ability to see beyond the perpetual night that surrounded them. Many a time she was at the point of stumbling upon a root or a stone, and, when Lómion had to warn her, she stared at him with a curious face, as if she was about to ask something. Still, in a moment she was smiling again, and they kept on walking.

It was long until Lómion finally admitted he was tired, and Aredhel decided to make a stop. They had arrived to the part of the forest where the trees were the tallest and oldest of all, their roots longer and more twisted, and in one of them mother and son sat together to rest. Aredhel seemed plunged in her own thoughts, but Lómion simply enjoyed to be in her company, alone with her, forgetting all about the rest of the world. His mother was the only woman that he knew, and by far the fairest, brightest, and more mysterious being in Nan Elmoth. They had many secrets that nobody else shared, like the strange tongue she had taught him whispering in his tiny ears when she cradled him as a baby in her arms, and the name,- his name-, Lómion, that only she gave to her son.

"Do you want a cookie?" Aredhel offered. "I baked them yesterday."

Lómion accepted eagerly, and they began to munch the sweets in silence. Once he had chewed and swallowed the last bite, the child stretched himself at full length in the ground, and shortly after, Aredhel noticed that he was peering intently at the upper foliage of the trees.

"There are no stars now." he said, turning to his mother with a curious look that she knew only too well. "Mama, where are the stars during the day?"

"The stars? They are...well..." Aredhel hesitated, trying to find the words. "They only show at night because, at daytime, Vása shines brighter, and her light covers theirs."

"Vása?" little Lómion repeated, confused. "Who is she? And, why isn´t she here?"

"She is the Heart of Fire, my dearest child, the bright spirit whose light covers the world. But she cannot enter Nan Elmoth, for the trees are tall and the foliage too dense."

"But she could just push it open, could she not, Mama?" Lómion suggested as the most normal thing in the world. Aredhel would have laughed at her son´s innocence, if only she had not been suddenly so intent in making him understand.

"She cannot enter here. She will never enter here, little one, because your father´s magic does not allow her to. He hates her light."

Well, that was rather a clear point, Lómion thought. If his father said no, it was no. It was the very first thing he had learned in his short life.

But, surely, his mother would know the reason. She knew everything.

"Why does he hate it, Mama? Perhaps...?" Suddenly, his eyes widened in realisation. "Perhaps it could be that she burned him and left that hideous mark in his back?"

"What?" Aredhel was shocked. He must have been wrong, he assumed as he saw her face. "How do you know that?"

"I saw him at the forge the other day. He was sweating, so he stripped for a moment to pour cold water over his body and I saw it. But, when I asked, he scowled so fiercely that I did not...What is it?

The mere thought of what Eöl must have felt as he heard his small son- and in front of his people, too- question him about the most visible of the scars he has got during his cruel thraldom in the pits of Angband filled Aredhel with an unspoken but fierce joy. Lómion saw her smile, but, of course, he was too young to know what it meant.

After all, she had not told him yet that she hated his father.

"Never mind about this, my son. It has nothing to do with the light of Vása. Maybe I will tell you when you are older." Of course she would, she thought.

Seeing that, this time, his mother was in earnest, Lómion decided to press her about the other thing that interested him at the moment.

"Then, why does he hate Vása?"

"Because..." Aredhel hesitated again. "Because he belongs to the people of the darkness, the Moriquendi. They always dwelt under the light of the stars, before she came, and they are used to it."

"I am used to it, too." Lómion muttered, after a thoughtful moment. " I am a Moriquendi, like Father, because I am his son. He always tells me that."

"No, you are not." Aredhel was not able to hold herself. "You are like me. You and I, we are the Calaquendi, the people of the Light. We are different, and you know we are."

Although he did not understand very well all this, the child nodded to calm his mother down. He did not like to see her upset, and then, of course he knew they were a world apart from the rest, deep inside. If she said it was because of the light, then it should be so, although the only light he was able to picture in his mind was the fire in his father´s forge, or the gleam of the stars.

"Please, Mama, show me the light." he pleaded.

"The light?" she echoed.

"Yes. I want to see it...please."

"Didn´t you hear what I told you? Your father does not allow it to enter here. What makes you think I could defy him?"

"Because you are from the people of the light and he is from the people of the dark. If he can take the light away, you can bring it again." Lómion answered seriously, with his naive and simple logic.

Aredhel felt as if her fëa was on fire. She was not only flattered by her son´s high opinion of her, but also excited with the opportunity she was being offered. To show him the light. To make him yearn for what his hateful father denied him.

To make him rebel against the will of Eöl.

Aredhel shuddered with pleasure at the thought, but she still did not make up her mind at once. On the other hand, that could be the end of her useful acting as a resigned and docile wife, if Eöl chanced to hear about it. She was not prepared for another confrontation.

And then, also, her son had never seen Vása. The sight of her would cause him pain, for he would know that he was never going to see her again.

"Please..." Lómion insisted, holding Aredhel by her dress. "I will never tell Father, I promise. You know I am very good at secrets...I never told him about the way we speak, and about my name, and..."

"You win." she yielded at last, with a sigh. Her son was right, he had never revealed a secret, even those that any child would have chattered away."Come with me."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was not so difficult, after all, Aredhel thought as she eyed attentively the tallest tree of their surroundings. She only had to climb to the top, and the tree was strong enough for it, and full of branches that she knew like the palm of her own hand. If they reached the top, it was very likely that they would see Vása´s rays, she knew it well because she had done it sometimes.

Only that, this time, she would be carrying the weight of a child. A child that was going to be frightened, and fussy.

"Listen to me, Lómion, dear son. You have to mount me as if I was a horse... like when you were a baby, do you remember? And you will cling to my neck with all your strength."

"Are you going to climb up there, Mama?" he asked, holding his breath as he looked up. "Why?"

"Because Vása is up there." his mother answered, kneeling in front of him and offering her back. "and you want to see her, don´t you? Now hold me tight, and never, ever look down!"

"I will not." With no further hesitation, the child did as he was asked. Aredhel lifted him up, and the ascension began.

At first, in spite of her previous appreciation, the White Lady felt as she was not going to be able to do it. She needed all her strength to hoist her body up at each of the tree´s branches, and the weight she carried crushed her down like she never thought it would.

However, she was headstrong, and the determination that filled her now sufficed to brave all difficulties. The ground lay farther behind after each of her exertions, and nearer their end, and little Lómion was surprisingly quiet and still, as if he understood what she was enduring and tried to be as less of a burden as he could.

"Do not look down... ever." Aredhel whispered with clenched teeth at a pause. Suddenly, a branch she was grabbing gave way under the weight, and it broke down with a loud crack. She cursed between clenched teeth, but Lómion still did not cry. He had full confidence in his mother; for him, she was like Oromë had been for the first Quendi he befriended in Middle- Earth.

Maybe, it was this what gave her enough presence of mind to hold on with only one hand, and grab another branch in a swift and perilous motion which saved them both. Maybe they would have died if she had not.

"Mama, the tree- tops are full of lamps!" Lómion cried, excited. Aredhel feared lest he would lose attention and fall, so she tried to calm him.

"They are not lamps, it is Vása. Be still, you may kill yourself."

Those words only succeeded to calm the child to a certain extent, as he was seeing wonders he had never had the chance to witness before. He was beginning to spot glimmering sunrays that made their way through the leaves, which they coloured in a beautiful green and golden hue... and then, as they continued the climb, he felt a strange warmth which suffocated him like fire.

"It´s hot up there" he sighed, sweating. "Like in Father´s forge."

"Yes, son, that is because Vása is like a very very great fire."

"Are we going to burn, then?" asked Lómion, suddenly alarmed.

"No, dear. But perhaps you are going to find it a bit painful when you look at her for the first time. Close your eyes, it will be better. I will tell you when you can open them."

And so, Aredhel finally arrived to her favourite spot with her burden. She had been right: the Heart of Fire shone magnificently at midday, and her radiant rays spread as if they were caressing the fortunate treetops of Nan Elmoth with a golden and gentle touch. What a glorious, what a beautiful sight!

How had she ignored it when she could see it every day.

Slowly, the White Lady of the Noldor sat down in a branch, resting her back in a greater one, and pulled Lómion over her lap. Wet drops fell over his dark hair, and he was surprised and frightened.

"Mama, are you crying?"

"No." she said with a sad smile, stroking his hair. "It´s only the light... it´s so strong it makes my eyes wet. But, it´s already time to open yours now! Easy...you are not used."

Awed, the child began to do as his mother had told him, but, as he parted his eyelids, the only thing he saw was a burning white fire. In pain, he closed them again.

"Owww! I can´t, it hurts!

"Try again!" she urged him, but Lómion could not. His cheeks were filled with tears.

"Please, Mama, I want to go down again!"

Aredhel understood his situation, and feared. He had been born in darkness, after all. She recalled his ability to see in the darkest places, back at their home; how he guided her, and how his eyes were so like his father´s, deep but fragile and crystal-like. What if he found himself forever unable to live in the light of the day? What if he was doomed to stay in Nan Elmoth for his whole life?

If it was so, she vowed in silence, she would kill Eöl. That same night.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted her black thoughts.

"Mama! Look at me!"

"Lómion! What is the matter?" Anxious, Aredhel turned inmediately to look at her son.

What she saw made her heart leap. Not only was the child staring at the light with open watery eyes; he was smiling, too, happier than he had ever been before, and he embraced her tightly. His face was radiant in the sunlight, and his hair beamed in all its Noldo blackness.

"I can see Vása! I can see Vása! How beautiful she is, Mama! She is radiant, she brings light everywhere! She is the Heart of Fire!

For the first time in her whole life, Aredhel wept of joy.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Lómion was so excited with his discovery that it was a very long time before he agreed to go down again. Aredhel had to warn her son many times against staring directly at the sun, but she stayed there for hours with him, sharing his excitement, until the bright rays began to decline.

"Come on, my little one. We have to go now." she told him at last.

The descent was much more laborious and difficult than the previous climbing up, and their spirits were lower, for at each step down, the shadows engulfed them further. Aredhel became worried when she saw that the child did not talk nor move anymore.

She wanted to make him laugh again.

"Look, Lómion dearest." she began, as soon as they reached the biggest branch of the tree, which hung still at a respectable distance from the ground. "What do you see?"

"I cannot see clearly anymore." Lómion complained, pouting. " But there...there, I see the fire in Father´s forge. And something is moving there, to the right. Could it be Faerroch?"

"Precisely. You shall see." Aredhel answered, showing that mischievous smile of hers. Then, she put her fingers in her mouth, and whistled.

"What are you doing?" the child asked, interested again.

"Grab my neck as you have never grabbed anything in your whole life. We are going to jump."

"Jump?" Lómion was incredulous. "But we are too high!"

"Ssssh. Faerroch is coming."

Without more than one thought, impetuous as she had always been, the White Lady of the Noldor took impulse like a huge feline and precipitated herself into the abyss. She heard Lómion´s squeals of terror and delight as they landed abruptly on her faithful horse´s back, and then the only thing she could think of was her frantic efforts to take control over its maddened run through the trees.

"Easy now, easy now! I want to go down!"

At last, the steed slowed its pace so Aredhel could jump, taking Lómion with her. Topsy- turvy as she was, she immediately fell to the ground, where they rolled, giggling, both of them with matching expressions of mirth and flushed cheeks.

"What did you think about this, Lómion? Did you have fun, my child?" she cried while she lifted her son over her face, very pleased with herself.

"It was great, incredible! Mama, you are the best!" he laughed, throwing his tiny arms over her well-shaped and soft body. He felt excited.

But soon, as their backs rested on the cold earth, that excitement died down. Laughter subsided a while after, and, one by one, the words began to die slowly in their mouths, leaving them lying in shadows once again.

And Aredhel could swear she had seen the spark of a new pain hidden in Lómion´s black eyes.

o-o-o-o-o-o

That day, he became aware at last. Still a child, his mother had made him know the truth; that he was trapped in darkness, and he was never able to forget it again.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Eöl was waiting for them at their house when they arrived. The very moment Lómion saw his face, his furious red eyes, he began to shake helplessly, and wondered how he could have forgotten all about his escapade in the morning.

"Where have you been all day?" he thundered. Aredhel sighed, aware that their son was hiding behind her, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"I took him with me, to give me company. What am I supposed to do all day by myself?

"His place is at his father´s forge." For a moment, Lómion thought he could see fiery sparks issuing from the confrontation of their two gazes, and, not knowing why, he felt glad.

But it did not last. As always, Aredhel finished by lowering hers, and extended her slender hand to make peace.

"It´s not wise to waste our time by being angry at each other."

"Do not take him away again." Eöl insisted. He held Lómion very dear, she knew it very well, and the worst thing that could be done to him was to deprive him of his son. Aredhel could not help wondering for a moment what he would do if he knew where they had been, and what they had been doing.

"I will not, I promise." she complied. "Is dinner ready?"

"Yes." Eöl nodded. In his eyes, Aredhel could see now the same unveiled lust of that terrible first time, long ago. " But it can wait."

A moment later, they were already kissing fiercely, and poor forgotten Lómion went away, closing the door behind his back to stifle his mother´s moans, which sounded hollow even to his tender and innocent ears.

How he hated it. How he hated to watch how she gave herself to Eöl. She did not like it. She could not like it.

He knew.

And he also knew that someday, when he was older, he was going to marry her. And they would live under the light of Vása.

(To be continued)

---

Chapter End Notes

Notes:

Lómion, which means "Child of Twilight", was the secret mother-name of Maeglin. His father didn´t give him one until he was much older. And the secret language spoken between Aredhel and Maeglin was Quenya.

Vása means "Heart of Fire", and it was the name that the Noldor gave to the Maiden of the sun.

Turmoil First Part: Maeglin

Read Turmoil First Part: Maeglin

She was driving him insane.

"And then" his voice trembled slightly, "what did you do?"

"Well, of course, I disguised myself as a common soldier, and went to the battle. My father nearly disowned me when he knew!"

"And you killed Orcs?"

"Yes." Aredhel nodded, proudly. "I slew more Orcs than any of my brothers at the Dagor Aglareb. But I suppose it´s hardly fair towards them to boast about it, for, after all, they were too busy giving commands, and they did not know that I competed."

As she said that, she smiled, and her smile made Maeglin choke inside.

"Continue, Mother" he said, clearing his throat. "How did you decide then to go to Gondolin?"

"Oh, I did not decide anything. Suddenly, one day, my brother said he had a surprise for me, and it turned out to be a city. I stayed there with him because of the pains he had taken in the building of it, and because it was clear that it meant everything for him since poor Elenwë died...and also, I have to admit, because I wanted to live in the fairest city in Middle- Earth." Aredhel´s voice became deeper, softer, as she said those words, and her dark eyes wandered as in dreams. "The hidden wonder, she is. I should not have left as I did."

"But then you would never have met Father." Maeglin answered in a sarcastic tone that made his mother give him a queer look. Fortunately for her, Aredhel still managed to recover very quickly.

"And you would never have been born. That´s a good point."

With swift but graceful motions, she began caressing his face with the tips of her long fingers, and he abandoned himself to the touch, leaning against her body, courting the danger.

He was on fire.

"Don´t you want me to continue?" Maeglin heard a faint voice that addressed him in the distance.

"Yes" his voice answered, simply.

"Gondolin has seven names. She is also going to have seven gates, but they were still beginning with the sixth when I left. Someday "she added, kissing his brow " you will be entrusted with the building of the seventh, and it will be the most magnificent of them all. How proud of you I am going to be!

"Proud?"

Maeglin forced himself to break contact with the soft white skin threatening to engulf him, to escape the masses of black shining hair that gave him shudders each time it touched the small of his neck. To make it even worse, now she was looking at him with unbridled affection, and Maeglin´s secret need made him believe that her face was a mirror of his own feelings, although his mind knew it was not so.

Of course it was not.

"You never said before that you were proud of me."

Aredhel laughed.

"And I will not say it yet. You are too young to deserve any praise, my son."

"Father said once he was. " Maeglin retorted. "Do you remember? It was the day I forged my first sword...my first good sword.. He said that my skills were going to surpass those of the Master Dwarves in Nogrod."

"Maybe." Aredhel admitted, "but not those of the Noldor. And that is what I really want for you."

For a moment, it seemed that Maeglin´s countenance was shaded by something akin to frustration upon hearing her words. Pensively, he bit his lip, and sighed.

"If only I could see these famous Noldor crafts "he complained " perhaps I would be able to surpass them to your satisfaction. But, given that I am here, with only Father, his smiths, and the Dwarves of Nogrod to learn from, I think it is only fair that I should be encouraged to do what I can in their way."

Aredhel listened to his rant, staring in surprise. So she had struck a deep chord inside him. He wanted to be renowned. Especially, by her.

But that she knew already.

"Lómion, dear, that I am not proud of you yet does not mean I am never going to be." she explained. "I will see that you get chances to build yourself a name among the Noldor, I promise."

"Thank you, my gracious lady. "Maeglin kissed her hand, grinning in mock respect. "Thank Eru I have the protection of the King´s sister!"

"Don´t be stupid!" she cried, withdrawing her arm with pretended anger. Her son, oddly enough, found that gesture extremely...becoming.

" And now, listen to me! I shall tell you about my family."

"About which one of them? About your brothers, Fingon and Turgon? About my grandfather? Or about your wild cousins, perhaps?" Maeglin grinned again. "I know everything that is to be known about them all. You delight in telling tales as much as I do in listening to them, Mother!"

"Yes. But I never told you about your cousin. I am certain I did not."

"But indeed you did! Turgon´s daughter, the princess of Gondolin. The fair Idril. Fair!" Maeglin shook his head dismissively. "I am sure she is no fairer than you."

Just then, Aredhel had seemed to flinch a little from the intensity in her son´s gaze. Could he have seen her cheeks turning crimson, and not just for vanity´s sake? Could it be that she knew?

However, he guessed it was his own wild fantasy tricking him again.

"Proud as I am of your opinion, I am sorry to say you are no judge for this. You have never seen her, after all." she answered, before her lips curved in a not too serious painful gesture. "Do you think it was easy for me to be at her side in festivals? Everybody was always looking at her!"

"Were you jealous?" Maeglin asked then, with seeming innocence.

"Of course not! Besides, at night, when Vása was down and her golden hair did not gleam anymore, the men preferred to turn their eyes towards me." Aredhel snapped back. "She is too distant" she added sententiously, moments after. "And it´s no wonder, for her father never lets her alone. Dear old overprotective Turgon!

It was too much for Maeglin to see his mother´s sensuous smile in her rose-red full lips. Somewhat abruptly, he turned away from her, with a turmoil inside of his head. He could not stand this anymore!

But she merely shrugged her shoulders.

"Very well, I understood. I won´t bother you with the affairs of women again. Come back!"

No, you do not understand at all, her son thought, but he nevertheless did her bidding.

"Then, are you planning how to get to Gondolin and make me marry Idril?" he said as he returned. Aredhel looked at him, with a strange seriousness at first, and then, to his great confusion, with a twinge of regret.

"No, you cannot." she sighed. "We Noldor do not marry family."

She was driving him insane. Eöl was staying in Nogrod with the Dwarves, so they could spend all day together, but he no longer found any pleasure in it. How could he?

Maeglin knew very well that he was no more than a child for her. Her child. When his father returned, she would give herself to him again, and he would be condemned to watch them together, to hear her moans for nights and nights of endless pain and longing.

Forever.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Since that time, Maeglin´s dreams of escape began to have a different meaning. And, as his hopes changed, so he changed himself, leaving his former open and joyful nature further and further behind. For it was not freedom, or fame, or even the long- cherished light of the Heart of Fire what he sought, but release from his mysterious and unwelcome illness.

(To be continued)

The Truth

Read The Truth

"Find the truth in lies,

useful lies."

("Thorn", by Blind Guardian, from "Nightfall in Middle Earth".

A week later, Eöl was back from Nogrod. As usual, he returned loaded with riches, such as heaps of gold, valuable jewellery, and other like payments that Dwarves gave him in exchange for the black galvorn fallen from the stars. These were things for which he had no use at all, being as he was isolated from the outside world and its trade relationships, but he treasured them nonetheless in his deep caves, after giving some to his wife and son as presents. This time, Aredhel got a gold necklace embellished with rubies, too heavy to be elegant, and "perhaps good for a stout, bearded Dwarf- maid", as she thought dismissively; while Maeglin received a collection of ornate daggers made in silver and steel.

At dinnertime, they sat at table together again. Eöl did not say a word about his journey, and nobody asked him, for they were used as well to his dislike for useless talking. Only when they rose he told Maeglin that he expected him to resume his work at the forge next day, before leaving with Aredhel by the hand.

" Oh, yes, of course he misses her." Eöl´s son found himself thinking with a sardonic smile, as they closed the door and he was left alone. It was really an irony. For all the time that Eöl had been away, he had tried to avoid Aredhel; now that his father was back, he wished desperately to be alone with her, to tell her something, to go there and...

Perhaps better not, his mind answered him. He knew what they were doing now.

But, why did he still want to? Why the need to... hear what he hated the most?

There was a self-destructive impulse motioning him to that door. He wanted to go, yet he wanted also to flee, into the forest maybe, if he could. What was the use of it? Why did he need to hear their lovemaking once again, to close his eyes and think about what would never happen, despairing one more time when he opened them?

But he was not able to resist any longer.

Minutes later, as Maeglin heard Aredhel´s moans, he could not help imagining that they were for him, and that she was embracing him and reaching her climax crying his name. His back was leaning against Eöl´s door, but he was aware no more of what he was doing. Maybe they heard him as well, for all he cared.

And then she came.

Crying nobody´s name.

When Maeglin opened his eyes and tried to wipe the sweat away from his fevered brow, alone again, he kept this seemingly unimportant fact in his mind, and wondered how he had not taken notice of it before.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Next day, Maeglin went to work at the forge again with his father and the other smiths. The requests made by the Dwarves had been so many that they were late already if they wanted to craft all those swords, axes, daggers, shields and armours for next year´s festival, when Eöl would have to bring them to Nogrod with him.

As a young boy, Maeglin had always been curious as to why his father needed to work so hard. It was only after hearing all that his mother told him about his grand-uncle Fëanor, that he had realised that Eöl simply loved his metalwork too much. The Dwarves were nothing but an excuse for him to lay hands on his treasured galvorn, and Maeglin had to admit it, the results were always worthy of his reputation. Even his mother, stubborn Aredhel, realised that her husband was better at the forging of weaponry than the Noldor, although, as she added immediately, "weapons were not everything".

Maybe because for Eöl they were.

Those idle thoughts crossed Maeglin´s mind while watching Eöl´s figure bend over the forge, with muscles in perfect tension and his movements careful and precise. The long whitish hair fell in disordered shreds on his back, and that face, half obscured by shadows, shone with a deep concentration that Maeglin himself was not experiencing, and never could have experienced in this place. For he knew, too, that he was never going to make with his own hands anything comparable to his father´s works. It was not a very difficult thing to predict, and he did not regret it much, for he never felt more than an occasional interest for them, and only dutifulness kept him working there, while for Eöl his crafts were his whole life.

And Aredhel his whole night, a bitter thought pressed his way past the others.

"You are careless". a voice behind his back hissed, startling him. Just in time, for the blade he was making had come near to being utterly spoiled.

"Thanks." Maeglin grumbled in return, as he corrected his mistake before Eöl could hear or see anything. He should stop thinking about his father, even for this kind of small matters. He should never think about his mother.

Especially about last night.

Maeglin hammered the blade to its full shape, and breathed heavily. He did not feel guilty for what he had done. If his father did not know what the word "decorum" meant- an invention of the Noldor, as he would have said-, and Aredhel had obviously forgotten it long time ago, how was he supposed to have learned to act otherwise? He had been hearing her cries since his early childhood, and he loathed them since then, the only moments in his life when he hated his mother. By the way, how strange that was.

He hated his mother, not his father.

Probably because it was she who cried.

"If you have finished, take the sword away from the fire."

"Ye...yes, of course, Father. I am sorry, Father."

Cursing himself for having surrendered at last to the most dangerous thread of thoughts, Maeglin did at once as he was ordered, so eagerly that he came close to burning his hands.

It seemed it was not his day at all.

But, why? Why did she never cry anybody´s name? That had stuck in his mind, seemingly for no purpose, but he was not able to discard it. Why had he never heard a word of love from his mother´s lips about her husband, and why then did she consent to make love with him again and again? When he was a child, sometimes he fancied he had laid a spell on her. Perhaps, it could be true.

"Yes?"

All of a sudden, he was aware he had heard Eöl´s voice piercing his shattered thoughts.

"Yes, Father?"

Sure that this time he must have succeeded at last in angering him, Maeglin leaped to his side. But then, to his relief, he realised that it was not him his father was addressing now.

Aredhel, his mother, his only love had just arrived there, and she was standing in front of them.

"Well, you could be grateful for the drinks and food I bring to all of you." her clear voice rung in his ears. She was braiding her dark tresses distractedly with long fingers, and her breath was heavy. Maeglin immediately saw the reason for it; there was a great tray in the floor at her feet, with glasses full of water and juices for each one of them. "Eöl, I need somebody to help me with the rest. Surely there is at least one you could spare!"

Even before he himself knew what he was doing, Maeglin heard his own voice answering.

"I can go. I have finished with that sword, Father, may I?"

Eöl glanced sideways at him for a few moments, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes, you may. To say the truth, you are not being very helpful today." he said, turning away as if the matter did not interest him anymore.

Aredhel only arched her eyebrows.

"What were you exactly doing?" she asked later, as they crossed the courtyard. "He did not seem very pleased with you."

"No, he was not."

Maeglin slowed his pace, and wiped the frozen sweat drops from his forehead with his hand. Having stepped from the heat of the forge into the chill of Nan Elmoth´s perpetual night, he felt numb and somewhat dizzy. "I was thinking too much."

"Thinking? Thinking about what?"

It was a simple question, asked by Aredhel as a clear consequence of what he had just said. However, as Maeglin´s mind was anything but clear, he was intensely startled, and, when his voice answered her, there was a bitterness in his tone he did not intend, an accusation he had never dared to utter before.

"Mostly about last night. Were you having a good time?"

Aredhel stiffened immediately, and stopped walking. In the ominous stillness that followed, only the rumour of the smithwork in the distant forge could be heard, together with the howling of the cold wind and the loud beating of Maeglin´s heart.

Cold...

And, when the long expected answer came, it was not what he thought he was going to hear. Not at all.

"So you have asked at last." she whispered.

"Asked? Asked what?"

Aredhel smiled.

Shocked, Maeglin felt his dizziness crumble down. The figure in front of him was no longer the Aredhel he knew. She was an enigmatic, deadly serious figure with a cold spark in her eyes that he had never seen there before.

"Come with me! You are going to explain everything. Everything!" he yelled, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the house with roughness. Once there, he forced her to sit on a chair and held his breath one second, two, three...

"What do you exactly want to know, Lómion?"

Aredhel was not frightened or furious; she did not even seem displeased. If all, she showed anticipation in her face, something Maeglin found to be even more distressing.

And, of course, he had to say it now. Aredhel´s very eyes were asking for it.

"Do you love him?"

"No."

"Did you ever love him?"

"No."

"Then " Maeglin swallowed hard. "why are you with him at all? Why do you two make love? Why are we here?"

As he was asking those questions, he realised belatedly that they were going to plunge her in some sort of distress, but he had not expected to see his mother´s whole countenance change. In fascination, he watched her lips curl in a cruel and bitter grin, and her eyes turn into fathomless pools of hatred.

"Do you really want to know?" she said in a voice that sent shivers down his spine." He raped me. He took me by force and kept me here for years and years, this is the reason. Are you satisfied, now?"

Dead silence.

Somewhere within him Maeglin was barely aware that he should be angry, furious, and say something. There should have been an expression of the deepest shock in his eyes, he realised as Aredhel kept watching him with interest, but there was none. No, in his sharp glance the only thing to read was hunger, the yearning he had tried never to show before, and the longing to comfort her and to repay her at the same time. He wanted to ease her pain.

Now.

"What.. what would you have me do? I will do whatever you want...everything." he spoke at last, drawing even nearer to Aredhel, breathing the same air she breathed, heated with need.

But his mother sighed and closed her eyes, and, when she felt his lips in hers, she pulled him away with a sad smile.

"I want you to help me carry the food to the forge. And to never cross your father´s will in anything, do you hear?

"What?" Maeglin could not believe his ears. "You tell me this...what he did with you, and you expect everything to be as it was before? How will I look at his face again? I hate him, Mother! Why, oh, why didn´t you kill him then?"

"Because maybe he has a handful of followers while I am alone? " Aredhel bitterly teased. "Because he is stronger than me or you, and has a magic sword? Or, perhaps, because he is a sorcerer with powers only second to Thingol´s queen in Middle- Earth? No, my son, my dear Lómion, we cannot do this." Her voice had softened now, as she stroked him with tenderness and her tears began to flow. "To hide behind a perpetual mask...to try to feel what I do not feel, that is the only way! You must try, it will help me. I know you love me. I know I am not alone."

Unable to utter any answer, Maeglin embraced her tightly.

"One day, I promise we will be free." she went on, with the same soothing voice that she had used when he was a little child." We will escape from this place and we will see the Hidden City. You will be a great prince of the Noldor, and I will be at your side. Just wait a little longer... please."

Aredhel´s voice broke. Now, he felt, it was up to him. He had to say something.

"I will try to."

And so Maeglin got up, leaving her alone. He was forced to hide his feelings once more, even as he was sure now that they could not be denied. A day would arrive, as she had said, when everything would change.

One day, he thought, those selfsame feelings would change their lives forever.

(To be continued.)

---

Chapter End Notes

galvorn: The name of Eöl´s metal, discovered and used by him alone. It came from the stars, a meteor probably.

Next chapter will be Eöl´s chapter...

Turmoil Second Part: Eöl

Read Turmoil Second Part: Eöl

Part I

"I´m lost in the depth of his eyes

I can´t flee

Inner pain caused insanity

It´s deep within."

("Thorn", by Blind Guardian, from "Nightfall in Middle Earth.")

Before Angband, he did not remember much. Only some echoes that he had desperately tried to recollect when he was freed from his thraldom could tell him that he had lived somewhere in the forest, with a man and a woman who were not his true parents, and his sister, who wasn´t his true sister. They had been Avari, he thought. Yes, Avari who lived apart from their kind, and had the friendship of the Dwarves. He remembered having learned the crafting of weaponry from them, together with his sister.

But he could not recall her name.

Since he was a little child, he had possessed strange powers, which frightened all of them a little. For instance, he could hear voices whispering in his ear words without meaning and, when he repeated them, things would happen. Inherited abilities, they said. But, who had he inherited them from?

Sometimes, not very often, his parents went to visit Menegroth with their daughter. They always made him stay behind, and he wondered why, until the day when their minds changed surprisingly and they brought him to the Thousand Caves for his first time.

Too much brightness, he remembered. This, and a very tall man with silver hair and a crown, touching his face and speaking to him, but nothing more. Perhaps, he could have stayed there; but then, perhaps he did not want to.

Perhaps, he had escaped.

The fact was that, when the horror began, he was sure he had been back at the house of his former parents. Orcs came in large numbers, killed the man and the woman he had lived with, and took him and their daughter alive, for they knew how to forge weapons and therefore were useful. Eöl did not mourn the dead at the time, his only thoughts being about how to escape and run away from those monsters, taking his sister with him. Until the moment they reached Angband, and saw the Thangorodrim, they attempted several escapades, but then everything changed its course without any possible return. He could recall how they despaired, his sister and he, when they arrived to that land of shadow, for they suddenly knew that hope was lost in such a place.

Angband, a place far too horrible even for memories. Angband...

There, Elves were imprisoned in black pits, where the stars could not be seen, and a foul odour suffocated them. There they had to work without rest, under the vigilance of fearful Balrogs with their whips of fire.

And there she had died, his sister, of weakness and grief, and looking as old as a Dwarf when his life span wanes. But he, he had stayed alive.

One day, long after he had definitely lost count of the time, they took him, and brought his numb helpless body to the dark halls of the Evil One, where He looked at him in the eyes and said he was to be set free. Eöl recalled this very well. The terrible depths in his gaze, those eyes he would never forget! Once freed, the first thing he did was to run, trying to get away from them, until he knew it was no use because he would see them in his mind forever. Then, he lost part of his energies, and walked hesitantly the road that was to take him again to the world of the living, without feeling any joy. He had ceased to feel anything, and only some remembrances of his past life kept him going on.

At last, aware of how tired he was, he fell to the ground, and closed his eyes.

Maybe all could have ended there. Wouldn´t it have been better, to fade away in the darkness where he had suffered for so long? But no, suddenly, he felt something burning his flesh, like the Balrog´s whip, and when he opened his eyes forgetting that he was free, a searing pain shot through and made him cry out.

Madly, he ran away, looking for the shelter of a cave. As he lay there, he learned the truth about the hateful fire; that it was a glimmering thing that came from the East, crossed slowly the sky and disappeared by the West, to appear some hours later by the East again. This again and again, he guessed.

And then he discovered something else; that he was feeling something strongly once more, and it was hatred. The hate he had felt in the earlier days of his imprisonment for Angband had been bestowed now upon that strange burning eye at the sky that dared to peer at him, and from a nearly insignifiant sensation it turned into something great and fearful. Soon, he hated it so much that he only could manage to travel at night, under the light of the stars.

But, where could he go? He did not even know where his steps were leading him in this changed world, nor did he care at first about it. As he kept going on and on, he stumbled upon new realms of strange Elves with black hair and grey eyes, heavier in build than the ones he knew from before. They all shunned him because of his torn body and ragged clothes, and even more as they took notice of his whitish hair and unsettling glance. They seemed to know very well who he was, no matter how he tried to conceal his true identity and where he came from. The Noldor, thus was how those people called themselves, one of the Elven races who went to live with the Lords of the West, but were now back to wage war on the Dark Lord they called Morgoth. And he was banned from all their cities without exception, for they mistrusted Morgoth´s freed thralls as much as the Vala himself.

Once, when some tried to kill him, he found those ancient words whispering again at his ear. They sounded stronger and more powerful than ever now, as powerful as the urge to destroy them.

He had to flee after that.

How many nights could he have been wandering when at last he stumbled upon the Girdle of Melian? Who could remember something so pointless. He only remembered walking through a wood, and then, something absolutely new barred him the way. It did not allow him to go to Menegroth, and even his powers were not enough to break the barrier and enter.

Did everyone despise him so, only because he had been a thrall of Morgoth?

Eventually, march wardens of Thingol arrived and found him there, standing in front of them. While at first they were absolutely reluctant to let him in, Eöl managed to lure them so they consented.

Too much brightness.

This time, he remembered Thingol much better, sitting in a throne under a great oak with his queen and his beautiful daughter. He looked disgusted,; nonetheless, he let him stay in his realm if he wished, provided that he kept apart from him and the people in his palace. Eöl consented for a while, for, where could he have been more sheltered from the sun´s rays than in the Thousand Caves? The king´s bidding was not hard for him to carry to the word, and during his stay, Eöl became even more of a hermit than he had been before. It was really trying, to see such beauty and happiness after what he had suffered, and to think that they had been dancing and singing all the time while he was in Angband was even more than what he could bear. To ease his pain, he found no other choice than to return to the forge, and his works found some kind of renown. Soon, he even had followers, who loved smithcraft and silence nearly as much as himself.

One day, after a century of living in Doriath, life in that kind of Blessed Realm became such a burden that he finally decided to left. He went with his followers to settle in a dark forest outside the Girdle of Melian, where the trees were taller than in any other place in Middle- Earth, and the foliage denser, -so Arien would be at pains to continue bothering him-, and he convinced all living beings in the forest to yield to his increasingly powerful sorcery. There was no need to tell how relieved were Thingol and Melian the day he asked them for leave to go away. Thingol was never at ease when he was near him, while the Maia mistrusted him too, and they were not the only ones, but he hated them all. He hated nearly everybody, and he liked to see how this feeling grew and grew again after the long numbness of spirit he had suffered in the Darkest Place. Hatred was good, and it meant that he did not fear them. He only feared one being in Arda, and that was the Evil One, or, more accurately, the eyes of the Evil One; however, that could hardly be helped.

And thus began Eöl´s new life as Lord of Nan Elmoth. In his forest, he lived in darkness and silence, working at his forge with a strange black metal he alone knew the secret of, and friendly only to the Dwarves, who loved the same things as he. The day he forged his twin swords, full of black magic and treacherous to all except to their maker, he sent one of them to King Thingol, the one whom he had named Anglachel. He wondered if he would have accepted the gift or if Melian by chance had advised him against it.

But the more powerful of the two, the eldest by birthright, he kept to himself.

He felt less pain in his new state, for life was less suffocating to him in the forgiving darkness. In it, he even found some kind of comfort; and yet, it was not too long before he began to feel numb again. He had his hate, but he found that he needed something more if he wanted to stay alive. The dreams about his dark-haired sister assailed him, and shortly afterwards, he found himself wishing for her presence to be in the forge at his side. Why did she have to die, and leave him in thraldom, alone? He almost raged, for even love was like hate for him now.

Love. Companionship. Lust. Hate. Aredhel, the White Lady of the Noldor.

He was lover of the woman, hater of her kin, violator...and that was enough for him.

Until now.

Part II

"So what can we do in our lives

When it all begins?"

("Thorn", Blind Guardian, from "Nightfall in Middle Earth".)

It was morning. He felt it, he knew it by the faint warmth in his hands, and by the unpleasant sensation he had that Arien was trying to pierce his magic to intrude in his life and home and mock him again. Already she had chased the stars away, those same stars that saw his birth but were not as strong as him to resist the hated brightness.

Aredhel was there. She was lying by his side, and her back was turned to him, for he was aware of her long hair tickling his chin. If he woke her up now, however, she would have to make great efforts to appear gentle and willing, because at daytime she liked to be left alone.

So let her sleep, he said to himself. At night, it almost seemed as if she loved him, but who could know what went on inside her mind?

Thoughtfully, Eöl got up and headed towards the kitchen. There, Maeglin had prepared something for breakfast that he ate in silence, not minding the occasionary looks his son darted at him from behind his back.

Did Maeglin really think that he could not see it?

When he was finished, Eöl left the mess at the table for Aredhel to clear up. She could at least do this, he thought, but, as he was about to go, he saw Maeglin beginning to take the dishes away.

"Leave that alone! You have much work to do." he growled, cursing wordlessly to himself.

o-o-o-o-o-o

At the forge, Eöl worked furiously and without pause. At noon he relented somewhat, and allowed a small rest to Maeglin and the others, but soon afterwards he found himself in his working place again, for it was impossible for him to find pleasure anywhere else than near to that white-red fire that warmed his soul without shining brightly and cruelly over him. He did not feel well outside his forge, even now that working with galvorn had become a blessing mixed with bitterness, for the black and malleable metal reminded him of his son, and of what he was never going to be.

"Water."

"Here."

Eöl watched as the metal under his hands lovingly took the shape of the most beautiful blade he had crafted in a long time, the sword for the King of Nogrod, and bit his lips. Nobody dared to come near him when he was in this mood, not even Maeglin, who learned very long ago to keep the safe distance. And it was good that he did. For, if fear was the only thing he could inspire, at least it was better than hatred, and real hatred was not possible until the fear died away, as he knew very well.

Eöl had feared much in his long life. He had hated, too. And now, he was beginning to fear again.

Did it show? Could his son notice his anxiety with his piercing dark eyes? Was it as obvious for him as Maeglin´s own feelings were for his father?

Sharp Glance you are, yes, that is the name I gave to you, Eöl thought grimly. But the sharpest look in Nan Elmoth is not yours, and it were better if you remembered who you inherited it from. Born in darkness? Do not make me laugh! Your father had to see in the pits of Angband!

The lord of Nan Elmoth could not help wincing. He had his memories, buried very deep inside him, and not until the present time were they beginning to stir again. A warning?

Maybe.

"Keep working until I return." Eöl ordered before leaving the forge and a dozen of stunned smiths behind.

o-o-o-o-o-o

"What is the matter, Father?"

The voice was soft, but hard at the same time. In its tone, love and care were not implied, just curiosity and the overwhelming desire to attack him at his moments of weakness.

"We are waiting for you." that treacherous voice insisted. Eöl did not move. Sitting there in the damp ground, he could see the stars beginning to twinkle in the dark of the night, far away.

"That is what I told you to do."

"You are worried." it was a statement. With a graceful move, his son installed himself at his side, and the sharp-eye contest began once again.

"Do not pretend you care for my worries."

"Why not?" his son asked innocently.

"She poisoned you. Long ago."

This time, a flash of anger did appear in Maeglin´s placid countenance.

"Do not speak evil of my mother!"

"I will speak evil of whoever I want." Eöl replied, his voice cold as ice. "And it seems you are beginning to forget how to keep your true place, son."

That ended their intercourse for a very long while, but more would have been needed to send Maeglin away. Like a silent panther lurking in the shadows and waiting for its chance, he remained there, his hands toying with the weeds that grew under them, and for a moment Eöl thought he saw his mother in him, the day she arrived and tried to resist his attack.

Yes, it was no use denying he had grown up.

"Where does my kin live?" the question came at last, in a voice so soft it nearly broke Eöl´s nerves.

"Your kin lives here. I am your kin." he answered, a little too loud, maybe.

"I mean my mother´s kin."

"Hers?" In just a second, Eöl was on his feet, pacing to and fro. " They were murderers, kinslayers. They killed our people, and a great and terrible curse weighs upon them until the end of days. Do not speak about them in my presence!

Maeglin watched the floor idly during his father´s rant. When it was over, it seemed he was about to make a reply, but he thought better in time.

"Some of them live not far from here." His tone was casual now, maybe in an attempt to calm Eöl down, or, more likely, to show him who was the upset one of the two. "I would wish to visit them. Only to know whether the horrible things everyone says about them are true or not."

Error.

"Only to know? Only to know what "everyone" says? Who ever told you anything about them except your mother, you, you illgotten brat! "Eöl shouted, slapping him hard across the face. Maeglin fell to the ground again, holding his injured cheek with his hand, but he did not cower, and kept looking at him in that indescribable way.

That fixed stare Eöl had come to secretly fear so much.

"You are of the House of Eöl, Maeglin my son, and not of the Golodhrim. "he said firmly, to cover that fear. "All this land is the land of the Teleri, and I will not deal nor have my son deal with the slayers of our kin, the invaders and usurpers of our homes. And in this you shall obey me, or I shall put you in bonds."(1)

Now, his own sinister red eyes stared at his son in turn, with all the anger and strength he was capable of gathering, and it was a pleasant feeling to see Maeglin flinch at last.

"Yes, Father."

(To be continued.)

---

Chapter End Notes

(1) Quoting Tolkien in "Silm 16: Of Maeglin".

No Regret

Read No Regret

The weeks after the confrontation between Maeglin and Eöl passed slowly and painfully for everyone in Nan Elmoth. The whole affair was becoming unbearable, for while their hate and mistrust for each other appeared to be increasing with every moment they were together, still none of them voiced his feelings, and that only could result in a kind of tension as sharp as the edge of a knife.

"Here again?"

"Yes. Is there any problem?"

It is all my fault, Aredhel decided once again, shaking her head at the now familiar sight of her son entering her chambers. In her life, she had never been used to feel truly guilty about anything, but, this time, those words were all she could think of. Even as she had to take the brunt of the rift between her husband and her son alone.

"No, Lómion, not for me, but what about your father? He could be waiting for you."

"Waiting for me? You jest. "Rage dwelled in Maeglin´s gaze, perhaps also a little regret. "It was he who sent me away. I am not needed at the forge, he says. May I stay here, by your side?"

"Of course, son" Aredhel answered, doing her best to appear as cheerful as she could. "You know I am always delighted to have such a handsome young man to keep me company! But, tell me, what happened that I did miss?"

"Nothing." Nervous, Maeglin went to take a chair, and then he returned for another before he was aware of what he was doing. "I did not cross his will or try to displease him. Yet, he hates me."

And you hate him not, Aredhel thought bitterly. That was well and, after all, what had she expected? To make him despise someone who never did him any harm, who loved him in his own way, his own father! It seemed clear to her that Maeglin was only momentarily furious with Eöl for what he had done to his mother, but it was not likely that it would last. She was now willing, wasn´t she?

Soon enough, he will want to reconcile with his father, she told herself. And, as he knows his soft spot only too well, everything will be fine again. All grudges had an end, even Nan Elmoth´s truly long ones.

Except hers.

"I believe you underrated his power to see behind your words and actions, dear." she began, already resigned to lose this time. "He saw you had something against him, and that is why he is in a foul mood. Why don´t you apologise...?

"Are you mad?" Maeglin suddenly leapt, his eyes flickering in anger. At a slow pace, he came near to her chair and knelt at her side, meeting her gaze with ardour. "You do not understand. You think I am nothing more than a temperamental youngster with a whim, but you should know me better. Because I love you. Because I desire you, that is why."

His hands clasped his mother´s tightly, demandingly, just like his father had done so many times since the day he had forced her against her will. However, as Aredhel was about to snap at him, she could see his piercing eyes, and she was deeply moved. No, not like his father. He was hungry, but even more fearful of her rejection, unable to hurt her in the least.

Worship, not just lust. She had been so wrong about him.

"Mother" Maeglin tried to continue in a steady tone, covering his too long denied anticipation. "it is because of my love of you, my need of you! that I will do anything you wish. If you say that you want me to leave my father, gladly I will do so, for this would mean going away from the man who possesses you. Oh, my lady, my love, let us go! Once, you promised we were going to be free, and I can help you to fulfil your promise now."

Aredhel´s body began to shake. Worried, Maeglin stood up to hold her in his arms, and discovered that his mother was sobbing without tears, as he never had seen her do before.

This scared him.

"Do not...Mother, I am so sorry!" he cried. "I was teasing you."

"No." she answered, surprising him with her quick recovery. With a powerful gesture, she took his hands away and stood up, defiant and proud, and she seemed to grow as tall as she had been before the life of feigning and humiliation shrank her to the size of a mortal woman. "You were speaking the truth, Lómion son of Aredhel, and I am sorry for having wronged you with my suppositions. We will go together."

Unable to believe what he had just heard, Maeglin stared at her.

"What?"

"I will guide you to Gondolin, wasn´t this your wish? Now, you are a fine man" she looked appreciatively at her son" and it is time to think that I have tarried for too long in this place."

And she walked away, leaving him in turmoil.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Later, at night, Aredhel went to sleep beside Eöl. It was neither that she wanted to, nor that he wished that she did, but the White Lady refused to let her husband alone in such decisive days, fearing he might employ his loneliness to brood on dark thoughts and suspicions. Just the thought of what could be crossing his mind when he shut himself in his forge was enough to make Aredhel shudder.

Silently, she entered the room and peered around. There he was, sitting on the bed, hands on his knees and eyes fixed on the floor. No signs of harshness had appeared in his countenance yet, although Aredhel knew for sure that this would change the same moment that he felt her presence behind his back.

And he was suffering, she could perceive it. Even degraded monsters like him could suffer for the love of a son, it seemed, and even they could be hurt sometimes. Aredhel remembered how, as a baby, Lómion used to be scared of his father´s red eyes, and how Eöl cradled him for hours if necessary, until the child fell silent or asleep. What she felt when he did this, she could not tell for certain, but it was at first like an urge to take Lómion away, to quiet him herself, and then the need to leave them alone.

Not now, Aredhel´s mind warned her. There was no room for this kind of thoughts when she was about to leave him forever.

"Are you restless, husband mine?" she asked as she crawled near him, encircling his neck with her white arm. Eöl stiffened immediately under her touch, and pulled free of the unwelcome embrace.

"Still raging, I see." Aredhel muttered then, before turning away to look for a pillow where she could rest her head. "Well, is it my fault? Didn´t you know that children were difficult, most of all the nearly grown up ones? They love to be quarrelsome and question their elders, although what they really want is more attention."

"And that, of course, has much to do with my son´s sudden desire to see people whose names were never to be mentioned in my house." was Eöl´s bitter and accusing reply.

"Don´t be sarcastic! Yes, I was the one who told him about the Noldor. Is that so terrible? Did you want him to believe for all his life that I had fallen from the stars, poor lad?"

This was a reference to something that their son had effectively asked them when he was very young. She had never forgotten it, for it was the first time she had seen Eöl at difficulties while she stoically tried to suppress a laugh behind him .

"He´s anything except a fool, Eöl" she continued. "You know the prodigious way in which his eyes began developing as he grew...why, he can see inside me! It is always most embarrassing to tell him a lie, to say nothing about the fact that he is nearly an adult now."

Her husband was not listening to her any longer. He was clumsily removing his clothes, in a way that told Aredhel that he was nervous.

"What else did he ask you?"

"About my kin?" She pretended not to understand.

"No" he said, sitting next to her again. It was chilling at times, that directness of speech from someone who used to keep silent, but then, he seemed forced to say long sentences in few words. "About us."

"Oh, that!" Nonchalantly, Aredhel turned away to search for another pillow. She could never allow him to see how she choked inside, and so she assumed a mocking tone. "Is there anything which makes you feel ashamed?"

"No." was his answer, which she knew to be true. "But I must believe now that you have told him about your people´s laws. They are not Nan Elmoth´s laws."

So you think that maybe this is why Lómion hates you, Aredhel thought. And maybe you are right.

As if he had read her thoughts, Eöl grabbed her wrist with his hand, and began to press it painfully.

"Look at me!" he ordered, and Aredhel complied. What terrible eyes.

But the pain was still greater.

"You will never try to meddle in my relationship with my son again, do you hear? If I forgive him now, and then he defies my authority once more, I will know whose fault it is, and you will pay for it. My son is of the Teleri, and will be of the Teleri always, like me!

Like you? Nobody can be like you. Not even your son, or the Teleri, Aredhel sneered to herself, although she did not dare to voice it.

"I have heard you very well." she hissed instead. "Why do you always think I am trying to take Maeglin away from you? It´s childish! You know that neither I nor he would be here if I had not consented in the first place. And now, let me go! You are hurting me, and I want to sleep."

For the first time in the whole evening, Eöl did as he was asked. Curiously enough, he seemed placated, and Aredhel, whose faint feeling of pity for him had died just now, could come near and without remorse embrace him again.

(To be continued.)

Leaving It All Far Behind

Read Leaving It All Far Behind

"I´m moving in silence.

I leave it all far behind."

("Thorn", Blind Guardian, from "Nightfall in Middle Earth".)

"So what?"

"So what what? Maeglin answered mischievously. Aredhel was looking at him in eagerness as she leaned on his doorframe, her eyes filled once more with the starlight he had used to see there in his childhood.

"You are too radiant in your white dress, my lady." he grinned. "I do not believe your lovely hands can handle such a thing."

Aredhel´s lips curled in an angry gesture, and his smile widened even more.

"Better than you, insolent child! Let us exchange, as we promised."

Now, it was Maeglin´s turn to show surprise.

"So...you did it?" His voice was but an awed whisper. Aredhel laughed triumphantly.

"Did what?" she teased back.

"All right, you win. Take it!" Exasperated, and more than a little nervous, Eöl´s son knelt to search for something under his bed, which he produced slowly and reverently. In sharp contrast with his care, his mother grabbed it with such impatience and greediness that she nearly cut herself.

It was a sword.

"Oh, it is...it is perfect! "Aredhel cried after trying its balance in a few skilled movements, and turning it over and over to see how the blade captured the dim light of the torches. She had to tiptoe to kiss her son´s forehead, for he had already become slightly taller than herself.

"You are the best smith in Beleriand!"

"Am I?" Maeglin´s cheeks flushed both from the intense pleasure of being admired and from the long craved touch of her lips. They were alone, they could do as they wanted.

And soon, they would be free.

"Forging it was in truth easy." he began, not very modestly. "The worst part of it was to work in secret."

"Speaking about secrets!" Aredhel exclaimed with an enigmatic smile, as she pressed Maeglin´s gift to her breast. "Come with me, I have something that you might want to see."

Trying to still the pace of his own wild hopes, doing his best to hide the loud heartbeat that thundered in his chest, Maeglin followed his mother through the dark corridors. Surely, it could not be... He had expected too much from her, it was unfair! Although he loved her more than anything else in his life, she was not all-powerful.

Was she?

"Lómion, son." she said sweetly, turning to face him. Her dark unbraided hair shone like galvorn under the candlelight, and he noticed that there was something hidden in the folds of her dress.

Galvorn.

"This is my gift to you."

"Mother!"

Maeglin could not believe what his eyes were seeing. It was Anguirel, his father´s own sword, the twin of the Black Sword of Doriath whom Eöl held in the greatest worth, there, in her hands! Shortly before his father´s departure, Aredhel had promised it to her son in exchange for another sword he was going to forge for her, but Maeglin, assuming that she spoke lightly, had his own blade already prepared for the journey.

"Mother, how...?"

"Shhhh." Slowly, Aredhel pressed a finger to her lips. "It´s a secret, remember. Now, take it!"

And Maeglin took it. A clumsy and hesitant move at first, it became a steadier grip after the surprise of finding how light it was. It was cold, too, very cold.

"It seems made for you."

I was made for you.

To Aredhel´s amazement, Maeglin stared at the black, evil blade. Yes, she seemed made for him. With Anguirel in his hand, he felt different, stronger, and suddenly he thought that he understood why his father had never allowed him to handle her.

A perfect blackness that seemed to swallow all sign of life.

I am a part of yourself. I was forged here in Nan Elmoth, in an ancient and bitter grudge against all creatures of the Light.

"What is the matter, Lómion?" his mother asked anxiously, frightened by his pallor and by the glint she had seen in his eyes. Maeglin closed them, and pressed against her.

"She speaks to me. She is whispering things in my head."

"Yes." Aredhel nodded. Maeglin shook his head in disbelief. How could she know?

"Prove yourself worthy of being her master. If she sees she is being handled by a worthless coward who falls to her lure, she will be pitiless. And she will betray you, as she did him."

The young man stared at her, as an awed comprehension began to dawn in his brain.

"So you spoke with her, too..."

Aredhel did not answer.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Angbor rose very early. He had to feed the horses in the stable, as he used to do every day since so long ago he had now lost count. Putting on his clothes, he stepped out from his warm bedroom , into the damp and frozen air of the courtyard.

It was so cold. To resist the persistent chill, he was forced to wrap himself in his cloak while he walked in the starless and silent morrow, feeling sleepy still, but glad nonetheless. For, at this hour of the day, everything was in perfect silence.

Silence. How he loved it, needed it, relished in it. If his lord Eöl had a problem with his sensitive eyesight, Angbor had another with the hearing. And a curious one too, for the clank of metal at the forge did nothing to damage his delicate ears, only the sound of living voices, and the happier the worst. That was why he had fled from Doriath, where people used to sing at every moment of the day, and that was also why he was here now, feeding the quiet and considerate Nan Elmoth steeds instead of hiding in the deepest of the Thousand Caves of Menegroth.

Paradises of light were not kind to Morgoth´s thralls.

It had been a perfect life for him, the first two hundred years he had spent in the dark forest. And, though lately his lord had gone mad and married a noisy Noldorin woman, who in turn had given birth to that brat who was always fussing at the smithy, Nan Elmoth was still more acceptable than Doriath.

"Angbor!"

Startled, he stopped on his tracks. Who had called him? Oh, it was the woman. But, what was she doing in the stables at this hour of the morning?

Far worse, there was her son with her. And the two were dressed as for a journey.

"What do you think you are doing, my lady?" he growled, not very kindly. Aredhel gifted him with the best of her smiles.

"Prepare two horses for us, Faerroch for me and...ummm, the dark one yonder for Maeglin. That was the one you wanted, wasn´t it, dear?"

"Sorry." Angbor was beginning to feel nervous. "You cannot go. Our lord said that there was to be no riding while he was away."

"Did he say that?" Eöl´s son walked towards him, and something in his eyes made Angbor take two steps backwards. A shrill noise was heard as he unsheathed his sword.

It could not be. It could not be true, Angbor thought. The sword in his hands was no other but Anguirel itself!

"I am now the lord of Nan Elmoth, until my father returns. And now, do as my mother told you. We are going to visit her kin, the sons of Fëanor!

Angbor did not dare to argue further. Besides, he hated the horrible sound of heated voices, so he slowly began to do as he was told.

Part II.

Meanwhile, still clueless about what was going on in his house, Eöl had arrived to the mines of the Dwarves in Nogrod. There, as usual, he was first received with honour and greeted by the King in his hall of stone. All the Naugrim smiths came to him next, attracted by his new metalworks, but as he was about to show them, one of his few friends, the renowned smith Telchar, rushed with a flushed face to invite him to house.

"Such haste... It seems quite unusual to me." Eöl observed while bending to cross the threshold of the small door. In the inside he had no problem, for each room was ampler than his own in Nan Elmoth, and the ceiling very high, but it was custom among the Naugrim to never display any trace of magnificence in public, with the thoughtful purpose of not exciting the greediness of neighbours.

"Yes, you have guessed right. I want to show you something I made, before the feast the King is going to give tonight to celebrate your arrival." was the answer the Elf got. Telchar led him through the richly decorated corridors and chambers, stopping nowhere until they reached the smithy. In spite of the luxurious environment, inherent to the status of a wealthy Dwarf, it was there where the smith did his life; where he worked, rested, ate, and received his friends.

"There, sit on the chair. And please, wait a moment while I try to put some order here."

Eöl nodded to accept the invitation and sat down, watching distractedly his small and bearded friend in his efforts to appear a good host. It was not necessary that he took such pains for his sake, as he did not mind disorder at all, but repeating it once more would be of no avail, for the Naugrim were, as he thought ruefully, very headstrong.

Of more interest were for him all the new works of metal he could see piled in every corner. A beautiful and light shield with runes of protection in its front part particularly earned a long glance of approval; the Dwarf, as it seemed, did not lose his time.

"Yes, I am beginning to feel too ashamed to let my friends in. Since my daughter moved away to marry her first husband, this house is a mess! By the way, what about your own family?" Telchar paused in his work to admire a finely carved wooden box, and Eöl supposed that he had found at last what he sought.

"They are well. Maeglin has become quite a smith by now."

"Has he?" The Dwarf scratched his beard pensively, and sighed. "Then, I suppose I must be growing too old. Why, I remember when you first brought him here, and how he used to hide behind you, afraid of our kind!"

"He was very young then." Eöl growled. "At present, I doubt he is capable of being afraid of anything."

"Come on, take a look at this." Telchar knew better than to continue that line of conversation, so he handled the box to him. Dwarves had their own sense of delicacy at times, and long ago he had spotted out his friend´s dislike for talking about his family. "I originally intended to sell it to a Noldorin prince, but now I do not know. Perhaps I will keep it... what do you think?"

The Dark Elf did not answer at once, fingering the box before opening it. Suddenly, his mouth twisted in a smirk.

"Well, well! The great-grandsire of yours who taught me to shape my first blade would have said the same words. " he chuckled" I see the folk of Mahal still remain the same!"

Telchar nodded, and then shook his head dismissively.

"Yes. I rather do not understand myself why we have to do them favours. After all the times they have laughed at us and at what they call our monstrous ugliness, believing that we do not hear them, we should let them fend off alone, shouldn´t we?"

"Yet they pay well." Eöl objected, getting up from the chair and reclining over the now cold fireplace. "And that´s why you prefer to keep dealing with them and their rudeness."

"And what if we do?" Telchar snapped crossly. It was an old discussion topic among them, but the Elf ought to know that, for their kind, trade deals came always before personal dislikes. And he couldn´t speak too loud, either.

"And you? I only sell them things and usually deceive them, but you, you went and married one of their females!"

"My wife has nothing to do with her kin." was the Dark Elf´s answer. "Besides, she was beautiful, and I had a reason to want her. The Noldor take all your weapons, and what do they give you in exchange? Jewels!"

At this sally, the Dwarf could no longer maintain his hostility against his guest. Sitting in the same chair where Eöl had been before, he began to laugh soundly, and the laugh soon turned into a fit.

"Jewels!" he roared. "Really Eöl, I never suspected that sense of humour in you old grumpy fellow. Now, are you going to take a look at my new knife, or not?"

Eöl apologised silently for his distraction, opening the box in a swift but careful move.

His eyes widened when he saw what was inside.

"Hmmm...good work. Great work, Telchar." he muttered. " I would never have forged this."

It was just a small unimpressive knife of steel, without engravings or the typical silver handle of delicate workmanship that most good Dwarven knifes used to have. A common kitchen knife would have looked nearly the same, yet a great smith like Eöl did not even need to take it in his hands to know that its sharp edge could cut everything, and that its weight was light as wood.

"I, er... I fell in love with it since the metal cooled and I saw it whole for the first time." the Dwarf kept on talking behind his back. "How nonsensical, you will say. Yet it was so. And I..."

"Why isn´t it finished?"

"What?"

"Why isn´t it finished?" Eöl repeated his question. "There are no runes engraved yet."

Telchar breathed heavily, and began looking at him in a curious way. The curious way, Eöl thought, in which Naugrim looked whenever they were about to do themselves a great violence and ask something of any other creature.

"Because I thought that maybe you would...er, consent to help me. With your Elven magic, I mean."

Eöl was surprised.

"My Elven magic? Since when do you need my people´s sorcery to forge weapons?"

"I need this knife to be something very special, Eöl. It is special already, but I need your help to make it the best of knives made ever. Will you...?"

But then, suddenly, the words he was about to utter became stuck in his throat.

"Eöl! What´s the matter?"

The look in his friend´s eyes was vacant, gone. In despair, he began reaching with his hands to the hip where his sword used to hang, repeating strange words that did not seem Elvish, and were definitely not Dwarvish.

"Eöl, stop!" Telchar cried again, more concerned by moments. For Mahal´s sake, what was he doing? He arrived just in time to prevent him from falling to the floor, and this only thanks to the stout build of the Naugrim, without which he would have fallen together with him.

"Eöl..."

The body felt cold and rigid in his arms. For some seconds, he even began to fear for his friend´s life, but the red eyes were wide open, raging in silence.

"I must go. Telchar, let me. I must go at once!"

(To be continued.)

---

Chapter End Notes

Story Notes:

"The Black Sword of Doriath": I mean Anglachel, later Beleg and Turin´s sword.

As Turin had an argument with Anglachel before he died, I´ve always pictured Eöl´s swords as a sort of living beings ( and rather treacherous ones). I suppose their maker treated them as such (see Chapter Four).

That´s just me, of course, but Tolkien says that there were very few females among the Dwarves, so I built the weird theory that they shared them.

Angrist was later Curufin´s knife. (I guess Telchar sold it in the end). Dwarves...

Thanks to Joan Milligan for giving me Angbor´s name (it means "Iron fist", good name for a smith!) The Dwarven names I never used because of the Telchar idea.

Freedom

Read Freedom

Aredhel and Maeglin had begun their ride very early. It was dawn still when they crossed the fences of Nan Elmoth; the dawn, as Maeglin could not help thinking, of a new and better life for both of them.

How difficult it was for him, to restrain from showing his delight. How hard. As a bird was heard not far away, welcoming the light and the morning in high-pitched melodious tones, he began to sing the song together with it, and even the thought that they were not safe could not calm his euphoric intoxication. At each morbid turning back of his head, he saw the dark shadows where he had been born and trapped for all his life become smaller and less fearsome, while a wide new world bathed in a rosy gleam of warmth awaited him, stretched at the reach of his hand.

Free. He was free. Nan Elmoth had only been a bad dream, but it was over now.

Next to him, Aredhel Ar-Feiniel rode proud and radiant in her white dress. Because she was escaping at last, and because the sunrays were caressing her back, her eyes beamed in joy, and her cheeks were flushed in so becoming a way that Maeglin could swear she had never looked so beautiful even to his adoring eyes. Each time that their gazes met, she would laugh at the tears in his face, no doubt believing that he cried due to his oversensitive sight instead of just because he was happier than he had ever hoped to be. He would laugh back then, delighted to see her mirth, and soon both were laughing together, pointlessly, meaningfully, like children in their play, feeling the wind on their faces and freedom in the sweet air that surrounded them, and Nan Elmoth disappeared in the distance at last.

Never again, Maeglin swore to himself. Sooner dead than to see that cursed forest once again.

"Do you think this world a place worth living in, Maeglin my son?" Aredhel asked, wiping her own happy tears with her right hand and staring at Maeglin. "What, is it something the matter?"

"You...you have called me Maeglin, Mother." he answered, shocked. "Why?"

"Oh, that!" Her crystalline laughter, so scarcely heard in Nan Elmoth, rang in her son´s ears." It´s the only name that remains to you, for you are Child of Twilight no longer. Do you dislike hearing it from me?"

Maeglin considered this, and many different things flashed through his mind within a few seconds. Lómion.

His name.

During his childhood, it had been his only name, and a secret word of love between his mother and him. Afterwards, that other, "Maeglin", had been a way for his father to claim him as his own, to remind everyone not just of the fact that that they were "both" sharp glanced, but also that he was his son and only for himself to name, forbidding him to have a mother name like the rest of the Noldor.

Yes, he thought, but what need was there for secrets at present? He was no Lómion anymore, as Aredhel had said. Maeglin would be his name, ever, to his father´s despair.

No more twilight.

The playful rays that heralded Vása´s presence were becoming brighter and stronger by seconds. Maeglin had to shade his eyes with one hand, and clutch the reins tightly with the other.

"Oh, no! Call me whatever you want, for every word seems charming on your lips." he answered. Aredhel smiled.

"I did not know my son was such a flatterer! Well, Maeglin then, but let us hurry."

Struggling to maintain his balance, and wiping his tears repeatedly to see his path, Maeglin nodded, and followed her through the land of bliss and light.

o-o-o-o-o-o

For the sake of prudence, they did not stop until it was night. Both of them were aware of how dangerous Eöl could be, and they did not want to leave him the least chance to find them before their arrival to the Hidden City. And still, as the first stars appeared on the sky, Maeglin considered that the torture of riding a horse all day without practice had been already enough for him, and ignoring Aredhel´s persistent teasing, he requested for some hours of grace to lay down and rest.

"Well, at least it seems you are improving. This time I did not have to help you dismount!" she laughed, making him sigh. He had learned to ride fairly well on his childhood journeys to Nogrod, even if he could not compete with her!

But it was useless to remind her of that, especially when she felt like joking.

"Why don´t you amaze me with your great hunting skills, and bring us something to eat?" he said instead, removing the saddle from Aredhel´s horse. She looked extremely pleased at the suggestion, and began to look for her sword.

"Bad luck that there aren´t any lions here. I would like so much to bring you one!"

"No, Mother, no big things." Maeglin shook his head as he removed the other saddle." We would have to leave the corpses behind, and that would mark our trail and attract dangerous animals. Besides, you don´t have any arrows!"

"I do not need them." the White Lady of the Noldor boasted." I have hunted every kind of animals in the Blessed Realm, together with the sons of Fëanor and Oromë the Vala, and a sword is all I need if I can ride a horse."

"But, Mother, the saddle..."

"Nonsense! It´s just an useless implement."

Maeglin watched her climb on Faerroch´s back with a single graceful jump, and his eyes widened with pride and admiration. This was his mother, he thought as he followed their course until they disappeared behind the trees, the Aredhel he remembered jumping from a high branch to land on top of her running horse. The brave and fearless lady who showed him the light for the first time in his life had come back with their freedom, and he felt more than ever the urge to take her in his arms.

Her light was his now, and for no one else.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Half an hour later, Aredhel returned with the deer she had killed -the Valar help her, she simply was not able to catch anything smaller!-, and saw her son sitting in front of the fire he had built, staring fixedly at the dancing flames with Anguirel in his hands. Behind him...

She stopped and froze when she realised what was behind him. Two pairs of evil eyes gleamed in the darkness, as if waiting, preparing...

Wargs.

Maeglin hadn´t noticed their presence, she guessed as a persistent ache began to settle on her stomach. They could be very silent when they wanted to, to catch their prey at unawares once they had it within their reach. And then...

Damn! Because of her hunting abilities, she could predict everything, but what could she do? Her hands clutched tightly the hilt of her sword, but she knew that the first sound or move from her part or Faerroch´s would mean immediate attack, and she was too far away to reach them in time.

Maeglin, my son, Aredhel tried somehow to make him hear, without being able to utter a word. React, for the Valar´s sake! They are behind you!

Nothing. He was absorbed by his reverie, or worse, he was asleep. Most probably asleep, for his black eyes did not mirror anything but the feverish light of the flames, while the monsters kept on skilfully, silently nearing him. Aredhel shuddered in terror as the first of them prepared to jump.

"No!"

All of a sudden, a painful roar of horrible agony escaped the distorted jaw of the fell beast, and the Noldorin princess saw the point of Anguirel emerging from its grey and hairy back. At that same moment, as if they were but one single being, she and Faerroch rushed to meet the second warg, momentarily frozen at the unexpected peril in what they had believed to be an easy prey. The creature of Morgoth recovered quickly enough to wait as she jumped down the horse and leap to her throat.

Aredhel cried in pain. She was quicker than her foe, and she had had time to elude the attack, but the right paw tore the tender flesh of her left shoulder as she jumped aside. Her ears heard the sound of another beast fighting against Maeglin, and she hoped dearly that it was the last one.

"Come again, foul creature, if you dare!" she shouted, grasping her sword to prepare her next and definitive move. It was going to feel good, to kill it. Of course there had never been a time when she had failed to enjoy a hunt or a battle, but this one, this abominable monster, had dared to make her fear for a while, and it would pay.

"Why, you don´t come? Coward that you are, just like your ignoble master!"

The beast, perhaps annoyed by her taunting, or more probably seeing a chance in Aredhel´s apparent distraction, jumped again with its claws extended. It was the last attack it was ever going to attempt. Failing to cross the distance that separed it from its supposed victim, it fell impaled on her blade, and its roars echoed those of the remaining warg, defeated by Maeglin.

"Mother!" he cried, rushing towards the place where Aredhel gloated at the last efforts of the agonising monster to reach her with its open fangs, her arms extended to keep it just at an inch from achieving its goal.

"I am fine." she answered, and she used her foot to drop the corpse to the ground." But you! You frightened me. I thought they were going to kill you in your sleep!"

"Sleep?" Maeglin laughed, pulling an irritated Aredhel into his embrace. "I was watching their reflection on my blade. Do you really think me capable of being killed asleep?"

"Perhaps I am just a fretful mother." she grinned back, in spite of herself.

"A wounded fretful mother." he corrected her. "Have you at least noticed what you have in you shoulder?"

"The mark of a paw and a lot of blood, I suppose. But the accursed creature is dead, and I am not, and that is all that matters to me!"

"I could not believe it when you appeared, riding your horse in the middle of the fight." Maeglin confessed, motioning her to lie on the ground. Aredhel protested a little, saying that she was perfectly able to tend her own wounds, but when he insisted she gave in and allowed him to take care of her.

"Maybe I do not know you, but you do not know me either, if you thought I would leave you alone." she muttered. Her smile was tense, and her eyes watered several times as her son began to clean the wound with herbs and the water they had brought. But she did not cry at any moment, and Maeglin admired her presence of mind.

"You were very brave, too." Aredhel hissed, as if she had heard his thoughts. Maybe she had. "And nobody could deny you presence of mind, either. I am so proud of you!"

"What?" Maeglin´s heart stirred at her words, and he leaned closer to her. "Didn´t you say once that...?"

"Yes, but now that we are outside that horrible place, I see my blood flowing through your veins." she confessed while she raised her hand to caress his cheek. "We are equals in mind and in body, my son, and the people of Gondolin are going to see it at the very moment they will set eyes on you. Oh, Maeglin, if you knew how long I have been waiting for this moment!"

"I...I think I know." he stammered, caressing her in turn for no apparent reason. Her beauty, as always, was stunning, but what undid him was the way she looked at him, like she saw him as a grown-up man for the first time.

Like she wanted him to come closer to her.

"Maeglin..."

Like she wanted it for the first time.

"Maeglin, my son, I thought I was going to lose you..."

Waiting no longer, he kissed her. Shyly at first, then passionately, as he found that she responded and all his fears of her rejection were trampled forever under their entwined bodies. Aredhel moaned, feeling his hardness on her leg, and her hands began to tear his clothes off in desperate haste, clearly expecting him to follow her example.

Valar, and how eager he was to do so. How arousing, the sight of her soft skin, her pale breasts, her entire naked body burning with the need of him as it had always been in his dreams, when he was alone in his bedroom and the shouts rang through the door. If only he had known that it was so easy!

"You love me, don´t you, Mother?" Maeglin spoke between two breathtaking kisses. " I mean, you are not pretending you do, as when..."

"Ssssh." Aredhel silenced him, putting her fingers on her lips. "Why would I need to do any such thing?"

It was true, she had no need to feign affection anymore. They were no longer in his father´s grip, and, if she hadn´t wanted to, she would not be under him now, consenting to be loved.

"Forget him. Forget him at last, think that we are not going to see him again." he whispered in her ears, rolling their bodies to their right side, just in the middle of the corpses of the dead wargs. She nodded, and pulled out her arms to encircle his neck.

"Then help me to."

o-o-o-o-o-o

Mother. Lover.

He had never realised how appropriate it all was, every single detail. For all his life, he had been waiting to return to the place where he had been at the very beginning of everything, burning with the desire of seeing again the sacred narrow space that had hosted his body once before. And, while it was the first time they made love, he had already been one with this very body he was embracing, when the food she ate had been his food, and at each movement he had made she had stirred, too.

Mother.

He had been born from her, no one else could have possibly taken part in their bond. Not even Eöl.

Lover.

He felt the warmth of her round breasts pressed against him, belatedly realising they were the same he had caressed before, with his tiny mouth without teeth.

And he had never thought of how appropriate it all was.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Next morning, Maeglin awoke to find Aredhel leaning against a tree, her eyes hazy and lost in the distance. Slowly, he crawled to her side to kiss her cheek, and she flinched a little at his touch.

"What are you thinking about, Mother?"

She seemed to realise the concern in his tone, and smiled tiredly, fixing her eyes on his.

"He has noticed already, my son. Tomorrow, or this same night, he may return to Nan Elmoth, and begin searching for us."

"Noticed what?" he asked, in disbelief. "He is staying for a couple of weeks in Nogrod!"

Aredhel shook her head.

"Believe me, he has noticed. We should be leaving this place already."

"Mother!" Maeglin insisted. " How do you know it? Do you have a bond with him?"

"No!" she cried. "Never."

"Then..." he began to think hard. " did you do something to him? Perhaps... a spell? Or it was he who...?

But Aredhel did not answer.

(To be continued)

To Ache and To Burn

Read To Ache and To Burn

He did not stop for a single moment to rest after he jumped off his horse in the courtyard, or stay to hear the mumbled apologies and explanations of the frightened guard, who apparently considered as his duty to risk his life by following him. Only one thought kept hammering into his mind, and it was that he had to enter there and see it for himself, even if there was no need at all because he already knew.

Empty.

His own chambers, his wife´s chambers, his son´s chambers, the whole house. Much as he had always hated the sound of laughter and chattering passionately, he would have given everything now just for the barest trace of life, but silence was overwhelming and no one came to greet him.

His suspicions had come true. Aredhel and Maeglin were gone, and what he had felt in Nogrod had not been an illusion. They had left for good, leaving him behind.

Angbor grimaced as the heavy door of his lord´s private chambers was slammed in front of his face, making an unbearable noise.

o-o-o-o-o-o

If Eöl had had any different feelings or emotions before his imprisonment in Angband, he did not remember anything about them. However, after his release, and through his different experiences, he boasted of having learned three, three strong and distinct kinds of feelings that he cherished as the only possible way to stay alive. The same day he was sent out from Angband, he had learned the first of those. When he peered into the eyes of the Evil One, his body fell to violent shivers, and his numb and apathetic mood was overcome with the overwhelming need to escape from His presence.

Fear.

Then, as his tormented body lay exhausted in the ground, and he was more than willing to let himself die, he remembered the horrible fire that burned him, mocking his wretched state from the heights of the sky. At first, his only way to fight against it had been to hide in caves; some time after, he sought refuge in Menegroth, and, finally, he found a way to spite the power of light by weaving his dark sorcery upon the forest of Nan Elmoth, where he had dwelt until this day.

Hate.

The third, unlikely and strange as it had seemed to him back then, had been love, and it had started much later, when his life in Nan Elmoth had left few chances for him to continue fearing and hating with the same passion as before. It was quite a powerful feeling too, that love of his that needed to seize its object and turn it into a part of himself, like the black metal he worked with or the woman he took against her will. Together with the other two, they had always been enough, even for his twisted fëa, and he had never felt the need for anything else.

Eöl sat again at the fireside, in the same place where he had used to find his son Maeglin resting his head on Aredhel´s lap, both gaping sleepily at the flames until they would become aware of his presence and quickly adopt a more dignified position. He did not recognise the persistent ache in his chest as he brooded over the memories, and this perplexed him even in the midst of his obvious misery. Was it hatred? Yes, but no, for if he hated them he would not mind to know that they had gone away. But, if he could hold them once more in his grasp, what would he do? Could he forgive them?

Maybe. Maybe for, terrible as it was, the feeling that resembled more what he felt was fear. He was afraid of withering away, alone and without them, with the numbness of hröa and fëa that he had once known in Angband.

Slowly, but firmly, the Dark Elf recollected his shattered thoughts and stood up again. He was afraid of losing his mind, that same moment, if he did not go at once to find them and take them back.

Yes, that was what he would do, he decided. He would find them and take them back with him.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Oh, what had they done?

For a long while, knowing that, at the same time, his wife and son were riding at full speed to increase the distance between them and him, Eöl could do nothing but sit on his bed and stare at the empty box with magic protections where Anguirel had been laid just a few days ago. Nogrod was not a good place for a sword who delighted in exciting willingly the greediness of all who beheld her, and this was the reason why he never took her, but now she was far away, with him whom she had seduced. She was with Maeglin, and Eöl, in his puzzled wrath, had forgotten everything he had thought a mere moment before.

That was quite different from simply sneaking away when he was not there. That was betraying him, showing that he did not want to return or to be forgiven, only to leave or die.

Stupid fool, how could you have thought of escaping your father, of betraying him, when you are but a part of him grown inside the body of another! You are not good at anything except at the very things you learned from him, and you could not even leave without taking his sword and his wife with you. Curse you! I will retrieve you, even if I have to go back to Angband, and you will come back to me, or you will die!

Beside the resting place of his sword, there were some weapons of every kind that Eöl had decided to keep with him because of their perfection. Among them, there were some arrows and javelins never used before, and he compared them attentively until he spotted the best made and took it into his hands.

Look! This is far more treacherous than Anguirel, even more treacherous than you, my dear son. I will kill a part of myself if I kill you, yes, but why cannot another part be born to replace that which I would lose? If I brought Aredhel back, she could give birth to a son who would love me as he should, and who would be happy to live in Nan Elmoth with his father and kin, not like you, who betrayed me remorselessly.

Or would she, once again...? He paused for a long moment, shaking with rage. It was she who had poisoned Maeglin´s mind. Without her, he would have ever been what he was in the beginning, his father´s son, only a Noldo in his face and in the colour of his hair, but his in mind and in the dark power they would have shared.

Aredhel, the White Lady. The deceitful Noldorin princess, who had always hated him, but who loved him at the same time, in spite of herself, just as he loved and hated her also. Ever willing to spend the night at his side, ever eager to despise him in the morning, she had changed very much about a month ago, when she began to look at him with expressionless eyes, and what he had believed to be but one of her moods he had not understood clearly until now.

Aredhel...

It was she who should die. That would solve everything, would it not? He would kill her instead, and then, without her, his beloved son would be only his at last...

..And spend the rest of his life without making love to her again, without the keen feeling of her hate and her lust under him every nigh they spent together?

Eöl buried his face in his hands. He had to go. Even if he still did not know what he was going to do, he had to go immediately.

o-o-o-o-o-o

When, that same morning, the people of Nan Elmoth understood that their lord was about to leave again, and that he would ride through the open plains at day to the lands of the Noldor, they were shocked enough to try holding him back. They implored Eöl to forget the proud Kinslayer princess, warning him of the many dangers that he was going to find in his way if he pursued her among her own kin, but the Dark Elf, clad in his black armour, took his swiftest steed and left them in a rush, without even hearing or answering those Elves that, he knew, were making fun of him behind their concerned faces.

So that Kinslayer wife you took has deceived you and escaped taking your son with her, mighty Lord of Nan Elmoth! How laughable you are, old fool!And now, not happy still, you still pretend to convince them to come back, so that they may deceive you again!

He did not care. He was going to show them who he was, and why nobody could mock him and stay unpunished.

Fifteen minutes later, as the forest was left behind, the first obstacle to that determination was the ordeal of Arien´s rays falling mercilessly over him, blinding his delicate eyes and making his whole body scream in pain. He had never exposed himself in such a reckless way, and all because of them, curse them!

To ease the burning feeling, Eöl protected his head as he could with his cloak, and leaned over the neck of the horse to embrace it tightly with both arms and whisper that he trusted the beast´s senses to keep the way the rider could not see. The horse whinned in acceptance, and thus they rode for two or three risings and settings of the Heart of Fire.

They did not stop to rest, at day or night. They did not slow their pace except once or twice a day so the horse could munch some green grass to deceive his hunger, while a tired and weary Eöl watched him with envy, wishing that he could stop to eat and rest as well. In spite of his weariness, he knew that he could stay alive for a long time without sleep and with the scant food he had brought with him, and his only chance was to find Aredhel and Maeglin before they rejoined their kin... no, -her- kin!

But, even after he grew somewhat accustomed to the painful light, and his dazed eyes could look ahead of him searching for riders in the distance, he did not see anybody. On the third day, he was aware that he had crossed the borders of Himlad, and still no sign of his wife and son met his gaze. Wrathful and heavy-hearted, he began to journey more slowly, to avoid the arrows and spears of the Kinslayers who had claimed that land as their own.

They did not find him until the next day, when he was already too disheartened and angry to care anymore. Twenty Noldorin riders surrounded his horse and made him follow them to the Lord Curufin´s encampment, threatening to kill him if he did not comply, uselessly, for where his wife and son were now Eöl would go.

 o-o-o-o-o-o

During their short journey to the Fëanorian encampment, and while he disdainfully ignored the offensive jokes the Kinslayers kept whispering behind his back, Eöl had enough time to put his thoughts in order, and to plan a valid strategy that would ail his purpose. He was in the land of his enemies now, and all he would be able to get from them would be by acting friendly and hiding his true feelings, his wish to throttle them all with his own hands. If he pretended to be searching- no, too strange, too humiliating. "Coming to rejoin" would be an adequate lie. If he pretended, then, to come to rejoin his kin, he would take a risk, but he was too sure that they were indeed there.

As it was, his only fear was that Aredhel had told them about her grievances against him, and that they were prepared to seek revenge on the offender. But, what truth could there be in those grievances? He had never hurt her in any way he could recall; she was his wife, and, if she agreed to return with him willingly in front of her kin, he was even ready to forgive her, as well as Maeglin. Such was the speed with which his resolutions changed in his actual frenzied state of mind.

Soon after, they arrived to the place where the tents were displayed, and his thoughts stopped dead to be replaced by watchfulness. It was the moment to succeed or to fail, and those twisted Elves could very well kill him if he failed. Not in vain the prince that was about to receive him was despised and feared for his cruelty even among his own kin, as Eöl had heard from the Dwarves who dealt with him.

As he himself found a moment later, rudeness and arrogance could be easily added to those attributes. When he was brought to his tent, Lord Curufin did not dismiss the guards that held him as it would have been only proper, but started to question him as if he was a prisoner instead of- he nearly spat thinking of it- his own kin by marriage.

"What errand have you, Dark Elf, in my lands? An urgent matter, perhaps, that keeps one so sun-shy abroad by day?" the Noldo began, in a mocking voice. He was tall and dark- haired, with cunning eyes and thin lips that curled in a contemptuous smile that reminded him of Aredhel´s the day he had met her for the first time, but far more dangerous. Eöl sensed power within him, and a mind shut tightly against any intrusion, even trying to peer at his own as nobody, except the Queen of Doriath, had dared to do before.

My errand is none of your business, and it´s less painful to look into the sun than to be in your presence, Kinslayer. And what you call "your" land is the land of the Teleri! he thought to answer, but he knew he could not, at least not with twenty armed warriors behind

"I have learned, Lord Curufin, that my son and my wife, the White Lady of Gondolin, have ridden to visit you while I was from home; and it seemed to me fitting that I should join them on this errand." he said. For a moment, the expression of the Noldorin prince was unreadable, as if he was considering his words; then, his mouth twisted in an amused smirk, and he broke into a laugh.

A laugh "at" him.

"They might have found their welcome here less warm than they had hoped, had you accompanied them, but it is no matter, for that was not their errand. It is not two days since they passed over the Arrosiach, and thence rode swiftly westward." Curufin told him, pausing to laugh again at Eöl´s stunned and ashamed face. Oh, yes, he could laugh indeed. Laugh at the fool he was, who had not thought for a moment that his deceitful family had betrayed him to return to the Hidden City, a place far surer than Himlad! Of course, they would have gone to the famous Gondolin, his wife´s own dwelling- place, as he should have expected.

But in truth he had not thought about it until now.

"It seems that you would deceive me; unless you yourself have been deceived." Curufin concluded in the end as if he had made some wonderful and witty joke. Suddenly, Eöl was reminded of the poisoned javelin he carried under his cloak, and he was more than tempted to use it to silence once and for all this dishonourable murderer of kin even if it was the last deed in his life. But there was a voice inside of him, that reminded his fey mind that the javelin, as well as his life, had to be preserved for more important purposes.

Instead, he cursed him. Cursed him with all his might, with all the power of his ancient blood. For laughing at a father´s misery, you will suffer yourself my fate, and your own son will hate you and leave you forever. Perhaps then you will laugh heartily at how it feels!"

"Well, my Lord" he said then, in a humble tone. "perhaps you will give me leave to go, and discover the truth of the matter."

Curufin shrugged his shoulders.

"You have my leave, but not my love. The sooner you depart from my land, the better will it please me."

And me, Eöl thought. While he went to fetch his horse, still followed by the guards that now accompanied the prince, his thoughts were already for the betrayers who were now far away, perhaps out of his reach; and how he was going to kill either of them when he found them. He would not relent, now. Death was all they deserved, and it was well that this Curufin could not know what he was thinking, for he would not let him depart in his life if he did, as he thought when he mounted the steed.

"It is good, Lord Curufin, to find a kinsman thus kindly at need" he snapped before leaving. I will remember it when I return."

Unexpectedly, those words angered the Noldorin prince much more than what Eöl had ever thought they would. His anger made him careless, so that, for a few seconds, the Dark Elf was able to peer at his open mind. What he saw made him gloat in spite of himself.

So "that" was it...

"Do not flaunt the title of your wife before me! "Curufin nearly cried, in rage. " For those who steal the daughters of the Noldor and wed them without gift do not gain kinship with their kin. I have given you leave to go. Take it, and be gone, for by the laws of the Eldar I may not slay you this time. And this counsel I add: return now to your dwelling in the darkness of Nan Elmoth; for my heart warns me that if you pursue those who love you no more, never will you return thither. "

Eöl complied, and left with an exaggerated bow. Being as he was, engaged in the pursuit of a wife who had escaped from his house with his son, it still felt comforting to his fëa to learn that this mighty cousin of hers was consumed by bitter jealousy, and that his heart was shaken to behold the one who had done what he himself in his cowardly heart had always been afraid of doing.

(To be continued)

 

Rain (or, Turmoil, Third Part: Aredhel)

Read Rain (or, Turmoil, Third Part: Aredhel)

"Come on, Mother, wake up!"

Great masses of stormy clouds were swiftly covering the sky, smothering the first timid sunrays of the morning. Aredhel shivered, and opened her eyes carefully to see a dim figure bent over her.

"It´s going to rain soon." she stated in a sleepy voice. She could check from her lying position that Maeglin had already prepared everything for another hard day of walking , as was routine since he left his own horse behind and only took Faerroch with them to carry their scarce food through the Dry River in the very last stage of their flight.

Soon, they would be there.

"We must go at once. If what you say is true, we are still at some hours of walk from the entrance of that pass, and I do not feel comfortable here."

Slowly, Aredhel nodded and sat down, wrapping her trembling body in her cloak. In spite of his present worries, Maeglin could not help staring at the way her face was lit with the ghostly faint glow that preceded the storm, giving her an outwordly appearance that matched her shivers and her damp and disordered hair. She looked like a wraith, a vision of the true Aredhel he did not quite know.

But, just as the true Aredhel had done for the last days since the Encircling Mountains came into view, that vision pulled back when he leaned forward to kiss her.

"Please, don´t do that." she said in a hoarse tone. Refusing to look at him, she struggled to her feet and began walking towards Faerroch. "You are right, we should go."

"Yes, of course." Maeglin suppressed a wince. "I am sorry."

It was too painful even to try arguing with her again. He could not bear to see her striving to hide some unknown emotion she did not allow him to share, to be unable to ease her torment like that other day he had not forgotten.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Maeglin had awakened at the hour just before dawn, when the dying embers of the campfire were about to give way to that first light which heralded the presence of Vása. Startled, the first thing he realised was that Aredhel was not there.

"Mother?" he asked, not shouting for fear of being heard by a less friendly creature. But only Faerroch heard him, and whinned in response.

"Mother? Are you out there?"

His worry increased as he got up and began peering at the shadows without being able to see the familiar figure of his beloved anywhere. It was all quiet, maybe dangerously so, and the imposing rocky masses that hung above his head filled him with a sinister feeling.

Where could she have gone? She seemed to have vanished, but that was not possible. Perhaps... could she be in some sort of danger? Perhaps his father had found her? Maeglin could not forego such gloomy musings while he sought and sought, and the soft gleam in the distance became the first golden ray, then the second, and the light of Vása covered the world. He called for her, but she did not answer.

Suddenly, he saw a small white figure in the distance.

"Mother!" he cried, sighing with relief as well as a little angry. She was sitting on the edge of a cliff, her white dress shining softly with the new light, and her feverish eyes were fixed on the green immensity stretched under her feet. When she saw he was coming, she did not move.

"What are you doing here?" he asked harshly. His annoyance, however, subsided as he became aware of the strange expression on her face.

"Mother.."

"I was thinking..." Aredhel said with a calm voice that was not quite her own. "Never mind, we shall return now."

"What´s the matter?" he insisted.

"I told you, I was thinking." she repeated, showing a twinge of impatience. "The Hidden City lies behind these mountains, my son."

"Yes, Mother, it does. And, with it, our freedom."

As he said that, Maeglin tried to kiss her in the ear, but Aredhel eluded him and turned her gaze away. It was the first time she did so since that night of the warg attack, and it shocked him.

"What...?"

Before he could stop him, Maeglin walked to her other side to look into her eyes again, sharply, demandingly with concern. He did not know why she was suffering, but she looked frail, and her forehead showed strange wrinkles that made her look old and aged; unlike the lady who had delighted days ago in riding at his side under the light of the sun.

"Please, leave me be for now. I love you."

"I know." he said, "but, why...?"

"Would you like to marry me?"

Utterly stunned, the son of Eöl drew back. Now, it was he who avoided her gaze, unable to utter any word. Marry her?

"You said once that the Noldor did not marry family. "he answered at last, and his answer seemed to arrive unexpected for her. "Do you remember?"

Aredhel sighed. "I had forgotten. But, what if you could?"

Thinking for a moment, Maeglin embraced her from behind.

"Why, I do not think you would allow me. "he said." I would never hurt you, Mother. I love you too, you know, more than anything else in my life."

Rape. Love taken forcefully and given without consent, subservience, imprisonment. Darkness. That was what marriage had come to be for him after all those years. And, who was to blame?

"Maeglin, you know what will happen in Gondolin, right?"

"Mother, you are shaking. Be calm."

"No!"

Suddenly, the White Lady of the Noldor arched back and fled his embrace, and began to walk at a great speed down the slope. Maeglin followed her, running to her side.

"Do not kiss me." she kept saying with a raised voice. "Do not touch me. I love you!"

"I know. I know!" he assured her. "And I love you too. What will happen in Gondolin?"

"Marriage.." Aredhel thought for a moment, then changed her phrase. "The joining of two fëar is not...Oh, leave me be! Do not touch me unless I ask it of you. I do not want to be touched until..."

She could not finish the sentence, even as she was aware that her son was looking at her with deep puzzlement and pain. Maeglin had no clue. He did not know what they had done, and that Gondolin was going to be for him another Nan Elmoth where his desire would be denied cruelly by the binding laws of the Noldor, as it had been before by the tyranny of his father.

And she?

The terrible truth was that she had not even thought about that. Intent, obsessed in having her will and her revenge, she had not expected nor wished to start living again when she had obtained them at last. When her illusions of being free and happy again and seeing her kin had waned in time, and far crueller and bitter plans had crept silently inside her mind, she had doomed herself, and now she knew that she had doomed her son with her.

Curse the sun. Curse the green grass, curse the flowers of spring. She had thought she was alive; she was not. And, where was now the motherly wish of freeing her son so he could become the greatest among the Noldor? How was he going to live, to survive the wreck?

Leaning desperately on Maeglin´s body, Aredhel covered her face and wept for the last time.

o-o-o-o-o-o

"Well, are we leaving, or not? We are near, but Eöl could still catch us before we get to the entrance of the pass."

"Come on." Aredhel draped the cloak over her head, and walked behind her horse. The first drops of rain were beginning to fall with a soft rhythmic noise, wetting the rocky ground under their feet and cleaning gently the surface of the earth, as well as their travel-stained clothes. She thought it was the first time she was going to get wet since she entered Nan Elmoth, and smiled sadly.

(To Be Continued)

The Hidden City

The scenarios of this chapter were written following very closely Tolkien´s unfinished story "Of Tuor and his coming to Gondolin." All changes are deliberate.

Thanks to Margit for her beta, and to Finch for turning Aredhel into a woman again. :).

Read The Hidden City

Maeglin and Aredhel kept walking without a single stop for the rest of that day. Not until Anor was about to disappear from the sky did the Noldorin princess speak a word, and it was to say that the tunnel they had been seeking was in front of them. And she was right, even if Maeglin, in spite of his sharp glance, was unable to notice it until Aredhel guided him to the very entrance and brushed the bushes away. It was dark and deep, smelling strongly of humidity and of cold, ancient stone, and its entrance was so well hidden under that lone cliff that Maeglin could well imagine why the servants of Morgoth had never discovered it.

"It´s a pity that the cave is so dark." he whispered in a low voice, coming near Aredhel to peer inside. "I would have wanted to take a better look at the walls, for I can perceive an ancient power in their carving."

"Do not worry, we will have enough light when the guards discover us. "Aredhel answered. "But you are right, this cave was not carved by any Elf, but by the might of Ulmo, the Vala who spoke to my brother and told him to bring his people here years ago. It was the only other time I stood before this entrance," she remembered ", with Turgon by my side. There were many travellers who did not dare to walk in, for it was the first time they saw a cave and it looked dark, as if it was the entrance to Morgoth´s realm. He had to be the first to step in, and I was the second." Suddenly, her face became distorted, and her voice turned into a painful whisper as she eyed the mouth of the tunnel. "I was not afraid of the dark back then."

At that moment, Maeglin could feel the years of sadness and pain crashing against her mind, and he stepped nearer to hold her by the hand. She was ashamed, believing that she was trembling out of fear; but he knew better, and he was aware that she was doing it out of rage. She had been acting all the time she had been living in Nan Elmoth, trapped and humiliated, worse than dead, and now that she was free, it was not without great struggles that she could begin to feel alive again.

"Do not worry." he began, careful not to intrude upon her. To his intense surprise, it was she who turned back this time and claimed his lips passionately, a thing she had never done before, not even when she had wanted him to love her.

"I love you", she said, as if guessing his thoughts. " But let us go, my son; for now you will be my guide and I will protect you."

For a moment her son wondered at her words, but they could not stay there much longer, and he went in first. The ceiling was low, and both Elves and the horse had to bend to cross the first part of the tunnel. Maeglin had now a better chance to look upon the walls, and he saw that Aredhel had been right; they were roughly carved, as by someone who did not care much for details. Then and there, however, he could see some elements that were undoubtedly made by Elves, like that old engraving, or the pillar in front of them, behind which...

"Mother!" he called. She was not behind him.

"Maeglin!" he heard his mother´s voice. "Where are you? I cannot see you!"

Of course, he thought. He was the Child of Twilight, he was her guide. Immediately, he turned back and took her hand.

"Do not stray apart from me!" she said." I fear for you. They must be here."

"Aye, they are in front of us." he whispered back. "They are armed, and have light in their eyes."

Suddenly, before she could even answer a word, a powerful voice interrupted them, and both could distinctly hear the dangerous noise of tensed bows.

"Stand! Stir not or you will die, be you foes or friends! (1)"

Maeglin opened his mouth as if to say something, but was silenced by his mother's grip on his arm. As she stepped forward he understood also the second half of what she had said; perhaps they would have killed the son of the Dark Elf if she had not been at his side.

"I am Aredhel Ar- Feiniel" she said, proudly. "Take your weapons away from your King´s sister!"

There was a confused whisper in front of them, followed by a quick command. Soon enough, a lantern shed its light, showing the disbelieving and hopeful faces of four Elven guards who stared at them for a while, until the first of them made a signal and those who were hidden threw their bows away and came to their side.

"Lady Aredhel!" the captain cried, full of joy. "And you are alive!"

"Indeed I am, though strange and sorrowful things happened to me while I was away, Elemmakil (2)", she answered as she gave him her hand, which he kissed reverently. The others kept looking at her, and at Maeglin, who could hear their whispers of happiness and surprise echoing through the cave. They were their people, the tall Noldor with bright eyes and bright armours of his mother´s tales, the famous Calaquendi. It was as difficult for him to stop staring at them as it was for them to stop stealing glances at him.

"He is my son, Maeglin", Aredhel said, taking him by the hand. "But now take us to a place where we can rest before continuing our journey, for we are hungry and weary from our travels."

"King Turgon will be very happy, my Lady", the dark haired guard sighed while he guided them through the gradually wider tunnels to the place where they had their post. Now and then, he stopped to look at Aredhel as if she had been one of the Valar suddenly revealed in Middle-Earth. "He had lost all hope of seeing you alive again."

"I am not so easy to defeat, and I will tell him so when I meet him" was Aredhel´s answer. With a half smile, she caressed Maeglin´s hand. "And he will like what I bring with me, the last scion of the House of Fingolfin."

Elemmakil turned away his gaze, but, just before he did, Maeglin saw in his eyes the nearly overpowering desire to ask her something.

o-o-o-o-o-o

That night, both travellers could sleep soundly at last, something they had not done since they had left Nan Elmoth to begin their mad escape. The next morning, with renewed forces, they undertook their new journey, first through the caves and tunnels of the mountain and afterwards through the Orfalch Echor, the ravine that struck Maeglin as a great mass of rock torn like a piece of cloth, he could not even imagine by what kind of hand.

However, what really filled him with awe was not the might of Nature, impressing and terrible as it was. The sight of the Gates was to hold alone that privilege in his heart. They were as great as the Dwarves' gates in Nogrod, and far more beautiful, for they had been wrought by the Noldor, the true masters in creating beauty. Wooden Gate, Stone Gate, Bronze Gate, Iron Gate...as they crossed them quickly he could not help brimming with delight at the different ways in which the cunning craftsmen had managed to find the appropriate designs to suit each new material, so they could be displayed in all their magnificence. In a special way, the Gate of Iron struck a chord within him, for he had always thought that metalsmithing was not his calling, yet now he found himself eyeing it with a deep jealousy, telling himself that he was able to do every single thing the Noldor had tried there, and that he could have wrought that gate if he had been with them at the time. So long was he inspecting its every corner, that his interest was not lost upon Aredhel.

"I told you that you would one day make one", she smiled. "Are you already gathering ideas?"

"Could be", he answered, grinning. "And finding that perhaps I did not have that much to learn."

Aredhel shook her head, gleefully.

"I know. You are a born smith, Maeglin, but you disliked the idea of spending all your life crafting weapons with your father, didn´t you? I hope that you can understand now what I meant when I told you so many times that weapons were not everything. "

"Indeed not." he said, sending a last glance in the direction of the iron figures that represented various trees and flowers before following the Gondolindhrim. "Indeed not."

o-o-o-o-o-o

From there onwards, the road became easier at each step, and their surroundings more beautiful. Among fields of blooming uilos, the flower that did not wither and glowed like the stars in the darkness of Nan Elmoth, they arrived to the Silver Gate, the fifth they had to cross in their way to Gondolin. This one was the most magnificent of those that Maeglin had already seen, and not only for its intricate designs in pearl, silver and white marble, but also for the two hundred archers clad in silver mail that stood there, not letting their surprise and joy interfere with their duty and make them break their perfect formation.

"Gondolin is still well defended, as I can see", Aredhel spoke to Elemmakil, who bowed at the compliment.

"We protect the City against outer dangers, but our time has not come yet. "he said. "And I am glad of that."

"Do you like this, Maeglin?" the Noldorin princess said, turning her face to look at her son, who was walking behind her horse.

"I never saw so many people gathered together, except for the Dwarves when I was small", he answered in a whisper, and smiled when he heard her clear laughter. "Nor have you, for a long time."

"Your father was not a lover of multitudes." she said. "Anyway, you will see something really impressive when we reach the Last Gate. Just wait a moment!"

Maeglin nodded, and wondered at her words, for it did not seem possible for him that there could be any greater display of magnificence before they reached the Hidden City. But he was wrong. After crossing the swards of grass and golden flowers, they arrived at last to the sixth and last gate, the Golden Gate, and he had to admit that his mother had been right.

"Look." she whispered to him. "This is the Golden Tree of Valinor, Laurelin."

Eöl´s son did not answer, too deeply absorbed in his admiring appreciation of every single thing that met his eye. This gate was entirely made of yellow marble and red gold, with six globes and a golden pyramid with an image of the Tree of the Blessed Realm. There were several hundreds of archers guarding it, and their mail, as the Gate itself, glowed with sunlight, for the sun now shone upon them.

"Please, wait here for a moment, my Lady. I will speak to the Warden of the Last Gate, so he can come here to greet you and your son as it is due", said Elemmakil. Upon Aredhel´s nod, he hurried away accompanied by two of his guards, and the princess came near his son, pushing Faerroch away from her side.

"Yes, Faerroch, we are home at last. You can go with Elemmakil and ask for food. Well, well, if that is what you want...I promise I will never leave again."

The black eyes stared at her with evident disbelief, and she could not help laughing.

"He does not believe you", Maeglin smiled.

"Then he should know better! "she growled. "I am not what I was before."

For a moment, Maeglin felt pain again in her voice.

"Sometimes I am jealous that I did not know you as you were before you left", he said, half seriously, half in jest. Aredhel picked his tone, and answered in a similar way.

"You did not miss anything. I am the same Aredhel that I was before"

"I do not think so. "

Slowly, Maeglin wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and felt her body leaning on him. It was a dream they both had whispered many times in each other´s ears, to admire the Great Gate of Gondolin together, embracing tightly and knowing they had left the dread behind. Yet she was still sad in spite of everything, in spite of the warm welcome and of her own laughter.

"I would have loved you before as I love you now. I would have loved you even if I was looking upon you for the first time of my life", he said, bending over her to kiss her lips again. The next moment, he felt Aredhel writhing and pulling away, and, as his gaze stumbled upon the guards that still remained near them, he saw a shocked look in their eyes.

"Do not do that again!" she admonished him in a curt, concentrated whisper. "This is not the moment."

Worried, confused, hurt, but too proud to acknowledge his feelings, Maeglin nodded, and turned away from her to continue admiring the Golden Gate.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Some minutes later, the Warden of the Last Gate came in person to greet his Lady. He was a very tall and noble Elf, clad in a brilliant armour that shone like the sun, though not as much as his eyes when he saw that Aredhel was there. As he greeted them formally, it was easy for Maeglin to perceive his happiness and his relief.

"I am most honoured to be able to greet you again, my Lady, and to see you alive fills my heart with a great happiness." he said. "Honestly, I do not know if I should believe my eyes, for they could be tricking me cruelly by showing me something that is not true."

"My heart is glad to meet you again as well, Ecthelion", Aredhel told him, smiling warmly while she helped him to his feet. "I am most happy to be here, knocking at your gate!"

Ecthelion returned her smile, and was silent for a while.

"I did blame myself each day and each night since we ceased to have news about you and we thought you dead, my Lady", he said at last, lowering his gaze. "I wanted to escort you, but the King sent others and I did not insist. "

"Do not worry about that. "Aredhel put a hand on his shoulders, as if to comfort him. "You forget to say that you did everything you could to prevent me from leaving, but I was too stubborn even for you. "

"And, what is the tale you are going to tell, my Lady?" Ecthelion asked, not wanting to continue the embarrassing conversation. The White Lady shrugged her shoulders, and made a sign to Maeglin.

"Oh, it is long. I fought the giant spiders in the land of Nan Dungortheb, spent some time with the people of the House of Fëanor and married a Dark Elf..."

Ecthelion could not suppress a gasp at her tiredly voiced revelation.

"What..? Oh, I meant...I am sorry, my Lady! I...I did not mean to interrupt you."

"Nay, do not worry. There never was any joy for me in my married life. It did not turn out as I expected. Yet it was good that I did it in one way. " As she said those words, Aredhel eyed Maeglin appreciatively. "He is my son, my joy and my pride, and his name is Maeglin. He shall swear allegiance to Turgon, and be a great prince of the City of Gondolin."

"My Lord." Ecthelion greeted as he bowed formally in front of him. If he was torn between shock and curiosity, he was able to master well his feelings to act politely and humbly, and Maeglin admired him for this. It wasn´t only because he was tired of so many inquiring glances; he could feel also that Aredhel was not for Ecthelion what she was for the rest of the Gondolindhrim they had met until now, and that the Gate Warden was internally burning with the need to force her to give him a thorough explanation. It even occurred to him that they could have been lovers, but he dismissed the thought, for it was evident that Ecthelion was not of that sort of people that would dare to court the sister of his King. But maybe he had loved her without hope, and it was this what now showed in his eyes. Maeglin was amused at the thought, and even smiled briefly.

"I was about to give you my horse, my Lady, but I see that Faerroch is still with you", Ecthelion added, looking affectionately at the old steed. "Let me offer it to your son, so you can both ride into the City, and I will escort you from behind."

"Thank you", Maeglin said before his mother could utter a word. In silence, he took in his hand the reins of the magnificent white steed Ecthelion was giving him, and mounted it while her mother did the same with Faerroch. When Ecthelion made a sign with his hand, the Gate opened in front of them, and both rode through it surrounded by the hosts of Gondolin.

"They are all here. Guards from the Six Gates. See the different colours of their mails!" Aredhel told him, coming near.

"A magnificent sight indeed", was his answer, uttered in a suddenly bitter voice. His mother sighed.

"Forgive me. I thought I had told you that the Noldor did not marry family."

"There is no offence taken", he lied. "But I told you I did not intend to marry you. Do they feel shocked at simple love?"

Aredhel hesitated. Fortunately enough, someone behind them announced the presence of the Hidden City at the end of the ravine, and their conversation died abruptly.

"Look!" she cried, and her voice trembled with a powerful emotion. "Look upon Gondolin, the last remembrance of Tirion, the fairest city in Beleriand!"

Maeglin held his breath for a moment, closed his eyes, and then looked again. It was true. In the middle of an exuberant green valley, surrounded by the snowy Encircling Mountains, lay King Turgon´s greatest love, the City of the Seven Names, stretching her white towers and pinnacles to the sky to receive the caress of the sunrays. Flags of many colours were stirred by the lazy afternoon breeze, and, as they came near, they could see people in the streets, in beautiful gardens, sitting at the balconies of the tall and proud buildings.

"Gondolin" Aredhel sighed. "So many years..."

"The fairest city in Middle- Earth", Maeglin muttered half to himself, understanding now the truth of the seemingly vain title. For it was indeed so fair that he could not even breathe, and so magnificent that suddenly he had no other desire than to be able to live there for the rest of his life and protect it with his last breath.

"Do you find it beautiful?" his mother asked, putting a hand on the neck of his horse. "Is it as you had imagined it would be from the old tales I told you when you were young?"

"No", the son of the Dark Elf answered. "I had imagined many things, but this surpasses my imagination. For it´s a beauty that gladdens the heart, and in Nan Elmoth even the beautiful things made us sad."

Aredhel smiled, and looked at him with a dreamy expression.

"You speak the truth, my dear son. My heart is gladdened as much as yours, for being here and for having you at my side."

Maeglin nodded, and smiled back. However, deep in his heart, and in spite of everything, he felt more than ever that she was lying, and that the reason why she did so had definitely slipped away from his reach.

"Then let us go in."

(To be continued)

---

Chapter End Notes

(1) I suppose that they said the same to every intruder. (See UT: Of Tuor and his coming to Gondolin.)

(2) Elemmakil was the captain of the guard in "Of Tuor and his coming to Gondolin.

(3) As you all know, Ecthelion of the Fountain was Warden of the Gate of Steel, but, since it did not exist yet, I assume that the last gate was the Golden one, and that he was there then.

A Shadow

Read A Shadow

Maeglin and Aredhel had been ushered through gates, streets and avenues, followed everywhere by curious and happy faces peering intently at them. Rumours of the White Lady's return had soon spread around the place, and at the time they had arrived to Turgon´s palace a considerable throng had been already crowding the windows and the gardens, eager to catch a glimpse of the long expected homecomer who had been believed dead by most. There had been so many that Maeglin had been unable to hide his surprise.

"They are looking at you." Aredhel said imperiously, as if she had expected her son to believe it.

Now, both were at last inside the King´s halls, and the excited voices had died away to be replaced by a solemn silence. The clank of the metal armours of the guards who escorted them was the only sound he could hear as they walked past the corridors, and Maeglin felt Aredhel´s hand in his, as if she was trying to give him comfort and reassurance.

Ironical, he thought, but he did not say a word. Instead, he let his thoughts lie elsewhere, concentrating to prepare himself for what he was going to see and hear at the throne room. As he began forming words in his mind, unconsciously he reached for the hilt of his sword.

Do you really trust me?

Maeglin´s face contorted, and his hand dropped down.

o-o-o-o-o-o

"Princess Aredhel Ar-Feiniel, the White Lady of the Noldor!" a proud and glad echoed through the corners of the hall. The guards retreated aside to follow the one who had spoken, allowing Maeglin's eyes to have a glimpse of what lay behind.

The ceiling was high, not so high as the halls of the Dwarves, but the pillars were more comely shaped, less impressing and more gladdening to the heart. That was the first thought he had, while he wondered about the huge difference between the breathtaking massive beauty of the outer Gates and the delicateness of the City's ornaments, as if she was a bright maiden protected by walls and towers from the cold winds of the North. Everything there spoke about a peaceful, languorous life, defended day and night against the power of darkness by the warriors he had seen at the Gates, which had been so strong outside but completely absent from Turgon's realm.

Turgon...

From a reasonable distance, advancing some steps but keeping himself apart from the scene, Maeglin saw Aredhel reach the throne, and the man who sat upon it stand up in all his powerful height. His golden crown sparkled as he did so, and his eyes matched its light for the brief moment that the son of the Dark Elf could study his face before he took Aredhel into his arms and embraced her. Whispers and murmuring reached his ears, but he stayed unmoved, watching their embrace attentively. Nobody was minding him still, even if he knew that this would change the very moment that Turgon and Aredhel turned to face him.

He clutched the hilt of his sword once more, and stayed silent.

"This is her son", he heard behind him.

"The son of a Moriquendi", another chimed in.

You are my son. The son of your father.

"This is my son ", her voice, full of love and passion, announced as she pointed at him with a white hand.

Maeglin stared at the King as if he had been suddenly struck by lightning. Words, truths, lies, that never before had failed to come to his mouth, had abandoned him now, and he did not know what to do.

"Maeglin, sister-son. Will you greet me?"

Fool! You can do so, but you know I never will, the voice whispered in his ear

Feeling his mother's unreadable eyes upon him and trying to make his own as unreadable as hers, Maeglin knelt at the floor and unsheathed his darkness in front of his new king. Anguirel stayed black and silent, but the Child of Twilight could still hear the sound of her words in his ears.

You can do so, but you know I never will.

Suddenly, as he looked up, Maeglin's eyes spotted a golden gleam behind Turgon´s back.

o-o-o-o-o-o

After the joy of the first meeting, Turgon disposed that Aredhel and Maeglin should rest from the toils of their long journey. Asking his daughter Idril to escort them to Aredhel's chambers, he invited them to have dinner with him in the evening so that they could tell him their whole story.

"Your old chambers continued to be tended during your absence", Idril said, smiling at Aredhel's surprise when they reached the place. " My father decided so."

"So he knows me better than what I thought", the dark-haired woman answered with a smirk. "He even knew that I was going to arrive tired. Perhaps Ulmo told him?"

"Perhaps" Idril shrugged her shoulders and gazed at her intently. "But I think that he could not bear to believe you dead."

Aredhel turned serious again. Escaping the Princess' eyes, she sought for Maeglin's.

"And he was right; for we are tired, aren´t we?"

Maeglin nodded absentmindedly. For a moment, Aredhel seemed to wonder what the matter with him was; if he could be affected by the magnificence that surrounded him, or if it was simply that he had held a powerful battle with his treacherous sword, who surely had not wanted to be humbled before a Kinslayer. However, the presence of Idril did not allow her to ask any questions.

"I will leave you now, so you can rest in peace", Turgon's daughter said, as if guessing her thoughts. "This evening, we will meet again, and then I will be eager to hear what you have to tell."

Aredhel shook her head. "Alas! The tale is dark and sad, and little joy will you draw from it."

"I know"; was the Princess' answer. Now her sapphire-blue eyes showed pity, and her hand moved to caress the White Lady's pale and withered face. "But you will unburden yourself...and your son as well."

"Maybe", Aredhel whispered, seeing her take her leave. Then, she stayed for a while at the corridor, as if petrified, and only reacted when she felt Maeglin's arm encircling her waist.

"Mother?"

"Yes?"

"She is the one you always told me about in your stories, is she not?"

"Yes, she is", she answered, somewhat surprised at the question. "I saw you talking with her while I was with Turgon."

"Yes. She..." Suddenly, Maeglin turned away, and Aredhel followed him inside with a look of puzzlement. "I was kneeling in front of Turgon and swearing allegiance when I saw her behind him for the first time", he began, sitting on the edge of her bed. "At first I thought she was no Elf, but Anor, the Maiden of the Sun, for her hair gleamed with the same brilliance that her rays had as we stood on the treetops to receive her secret caresses. But she was not looking at me. She was looking at the sword, and she...she was frightened. "

"Are you sure?" The White Lady stared at him, her fingers playing with her old white dress. As Maeglin nodded back, a worried expression in his face, she made an effort to forget her own thoughts for a moment and sat down next to him.

"They do not remember", she said, with a tight voice. "They once knew darkness, but now they do not remember. They welcome us, have pity on us, but they have forgotten. But do not worry, my love." she added, with a determinate and almost crazed look in her black eyes, " This evening, when night falls, we will tell our tale. We will let them know everything, and, even among the light of a hundred lamps and a thousand candles, they will understand."

Maeglin embraced her. They were in Gondolin, and from Aredhel's previous indications he was vaguely aware that he should go away to his own chamber, but he saw that she did not care anymore, and so stayed with her in her bed.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Hours later, he did not exactly know when, Maeglin heard a distant noise in his dreams. A feeling of sudden, cold emptiness came over him in his uneasy sleep, as he rolled over the bed and slowly began to regain consciousness.

"Mother?" he whispered, finally remembering where they were and who had been in the bed with him when he fell asleep. His gaze wandered across the now darkened chamber, and he was able to perceive a faint light that seemed to come from the adjoining room.

"Mother, where...?"

Getting up from the bed, Maeglin walked through the chamber and peered at the place where the light came from. When he did, however, his question died unfinished.

She was there. She sat immobile in a chair, her features glowing quietly with the light of the candles. Her eyes were lost in the shadows of the corner, dark and forlorn, and Maeglin recalled all the times he had seen her like that in Nan Elmoth, while an icy hand gripped his heart and quenched the words in his mouth.

"Maeglin?"

Her hands were trembling under the rich folds of her dress.

"Maeglin, we have to go", she said, more determinedly, standing up and steeling her expression as if he was an enemy she had to be wary of. Maeglin felt a cold uneasiness creeping inside his soul as he watched her evolutions in the dark chamber. "They are waiting for us. We have to go with them and show them the end of this story."

"Mother!" Maeglin threw his arm over her shoulder and pulled her towards him, but it was no use. She was cold as snow and her hands were still trembling.

"They sent word to me while you were still asleep, my son", Aredhel informed him. " Your father is here."

At that moment, the conversation was stopped by a soft knock in the door.

"We will be ready soon", her voice answered, before turning to her horror-stricken son. "Take your sword."

(to be continued.)

The Precipice

This has been written four years after the rest. Tolkien text is directly quoted in some very few passages, bleh bleh.

Read The Precipice

That night, Aredhel dressed herself in black. With a meticulosity that almost drove Maeglin to despair, her trembling hand wove a light, dark veil over her ebony tresses, and arranged a sea of silver necklaces over her chest until he thought she would sag under their weight.

After she had finished, she stared at the polished surface of her mirror with an unreadable expression. Suddenly, in his mind, Maeglin saw a crowd of people chanting sad songs in a tongue he could not understand, carrying a woman whose silvery jewelry rattled at each step of her bearers. Her eyes were closed, and she did not move.

Frightened, the boy drew closer to his father. The halls of Nogrod smelled of foul smoke.

"She is dead, Maeglin. This is a funeral."

Aredhel smiled thinly, and offered her hand to him. As the young man took it, he realised it was cold as frost.

He shivered.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Light, glittering in the crystal lamps, shimmering over the polished patterns of the floor. Shining in her hair.

Too much light. He almost could feel the prodding of his thoughts on his head.

"Come, Maeglin son of Eöl! Your father commands you. Leave the house of his enemies and the slayers of his kin, or be accursed!"

The light of the Noldor was destroying Eöl. Under its brilliance, the red spark in his eyes was glazed, his body was tense, and even from where he was, Maeglin could feel his very fëa cowering in fury and fear.

He remembered the woods of of Nan Elmoth, where that man´s eyes had seen into the thickest darkness and commanded the shadows at his will. Pierced by the light, his threats seemed empty and quenched.

His mother pressed a hand against his back, shaking her head, and Maeglin tore his glance away from his father in silence. He saw King Turgon sit back on his throne, offended at the Dark Elf´s stubbornness. In a stern voice, he gave him a last choice, to drown in the light or die.

Maeglin felt Aredhel´s hand tense. He turned back, trying to meet her glance, but she slowly pulled away.

The moment after, and she had predicted it –were they bound?-, Eöl twisted like a serpent, taking a javelin out of his cloak. A shriek was heard among the onlookers, and Turgon´s eyes widened in horror.

"You shall not hold what is mine!"

Maeglin tried to pull away, but then his mother was over him, blood tricking through her pale hand. Fear paralyzed him, and he grabbed blindly at her tense limbs, please, do not let her slip and fall.

She pushed him away.

"He is not yours." she hissed, staggering in Eöl´s direction with her face contorted by fury. The whole hall was frozen, as if the loom of the Weaver had been stopped and the hands of the Valië had faltered in their task.

With a ragged gasp, Aredhel grasped the dart and pulled it away from her flesh. The dark velvet of her robe swallowed the blood without leaving a trace, and she lifted her head proudly.

Eöl stared at her. His initial bewilderment gave way first to rage; then, unexpectedly, to a smile of cold triumph.

Suddenly, a shadow clouded the woman´s face, and the White Lady of the Noldor fell to her knees. The hall erupted in a pandemonium of motion and cries, and Maeglin heard Turgon´s voice yelling something, but all he could see was his father´s eyes gleaming in sinister glee even while he was restrained by the Noldor guards.

II

The room was dark, as if even the light of the Noldor was held at the threshold by the growing power of shadow. The sounds of the living came muffled from the distance, because Aredhel had told them to leave her with her son in such insistent tones that even King Turgon had been forced to comply. Now they were somewhere outside, pacing in circles.

Maeglin knelt at the bedside, shaking as the sweet and insidious smell caught his nostrils once again. He had torn the palms of his hands open with his fingernails, mad with the frustration of a long vigil trying to recall tatters of remembrances while their hopes dwindled more and more.

The little boy stopped in his tracks, intimidated. The darkness coming from that cave was different from that of his father´s house and the forest of Nan Elmoth; it swallowed even the sharp glow of his eyes, and beckoned him with an ancient voice of thousands of years.

Swallowing hard, he lay a first foot on the threshold. A while after, the second followed, and a gentle, sweet-scented warmth enveloped him. His hands explored the surroundings that he was not able to see, until one of them got tangled in something soft and sticky.

A harsh, metallic laughter rang in his ears.

Aredhel´s face contorted in agony, as a pain attack made her jerk backwards. Her eyes stared past his bent form, feverish, unrecognising.

A powerful grip pulled him back, and the boy was thrown over the grass outside. A herd of stars shone brightly over his head, and for the first time in his life, Lómion felt blinded.

Two red eyes glowered in rage.

"You shall not enter this place again!"

The soft, sticky thing had a sickly, silvery colour that refused to gleam with the light of the stars.

Eöl had refused to speak a single word about the poison running in Aredhel´s veins.

"Mother..." Maeglin whispered in a strangled voice. He had never felt so impotent, so powerless, and at the same time so overflooded with guilt. Coward, the steely voice of Anguirel mocked him until he felt he was going mad.

In Aredhel´s pale brow, there were pearls of sweat gleaming. Her son had never seen her like this, so frail and spiritless, not even in the darkest days of Nan Elmoth when he had feared she would fade. He felt scared. Where had the stars in her eyes gone?

Where had she gone?

"Mother." he repeated. "I am here."

His hand found a way under the covers, and he grasped hers tightly, as if he could keep her with himself like this. Aredhel shook at his touch, and her features seemed to regain enough spirit as to twist away in blind fury.

"Do not touch me!" she screeched. "I will never be yours. Maeglin will never be yours!"

Maeglin pulled back, shocked. She is delirious, a Healer had said.

"It´s me, Mother." he insisted, careful yet intently. "I´m your son. Your beloved son. I´m here, with you."

Her eyes widened in shock, and for a while she gaped at him in silence. Maeglin nodded in anguish, drawing a little closer.

Suddenly, her shock turned to terror, and her face went even more pale under the dull flicker of candlelight.

"No!" She yelled. "No! Get away from him. Leave him alone!"

Maeglin held his breath in distress. There was something sinister in her words.

"Mother..."

As abruptly as it had started, the fit was gone, and Aredhel fell limp on the bed that she had dishevelled with her frantic thrashing.

"Eru."she muttered in a broken voice, closing her eyes. "Oh, Eru."

She did not open them anymore.

III

"You should rest."

Idril´s face showed signs of grief and lack of sleep, but her lips were curved in a reassuring smile. Maeglin stared past her, not even bothering to blink at her invitation. His eyes were lost in the dancing flames of the hearth in front of him.

This was his light. The light of the forge. Not the blinding, gleaming light of the Noldor to which he had lost his mother.

The young man shivered, and embraced his chest with both hands. Since her death, he had felt nothing but cold and emptiness. There was a hole, a gaping chasm in his fëa, as if a part of it had been wrenched away from him.

He could not remember the nights when they had lain side by side in the humid earth, exultant to have their freedom back. There were no memories of her passionate caresses, or the proud, fierce light twinkling in her eyes whenever she looked at him. As he pulled her closer, his body had raged with unknown emotions, but he couldn´t even recall that, either.

The cold increased. He was freezing.

Lómion...

Maeglin hugged his knees, feeling like a little child again. She had always been there to embrace him back then, to make him forget the cold and the nightmares. To make him smile, she had jumped on running horses; to show him the forbidden light she had climbed to the highest trees.

He could not remember. Maybe he was going mad.

Lómion. "Maeglin..."

Something cool and soft was caressing his forehead over and over. At first, he didn´t even notice, until a familiar, seducing whisper reached his ears and made him start.

"Maeglin."

Disbelieving, the young man opened his eyes, and repressed a start as he saw her there. Her glossy black hair fell freely over her shoulders, and she was struggling with her breath, smiling as she did when she slaughtered the Wargs.

"Mother." he muttered, in wonder. She smiled, stroking his face.

"I am here."

He pressed against her, and she caressed him. The sparkle of his eyes looked strangely far away, like the stars which shone through the treetops of Nan Elmoth.

Scared at the thought, Maeglin grabbed her with all his might. She was leaving. She was sinking down the gaping chasm in his fëa like a silent ghost.

Her lips were shrouded by mist. Had he ever kissed them?

He didn´t remember how it felt.

"Mother. I love you. Do not leave me."

Aredhel did not answer. In an impulse, he pulled her closer, and kissed her hungrily. She was cold and rigid, like the sweet-smelling corpse lying in her bed downstairs.

All of a sudden, her eyes widened in horror, and she pulled back violently. Blind, anguishing, Maeglin tried to seize her, her dress, her long tresses, but she tore herself apart and left him to freeze, alone.

In his hands, there was only a strand of gleaming, hurting golden hair, the colour of the blinding sunrays. Bitterly, he cursed its radiance in the foulest words that he knew, even as he pressed it against his heart in a desperate attempt to find warmth.

IV

" at dawn I´ll face the edge of thorns..."(1)

They were all there, yesteday´s crowd. From the woman who waved an enthusiastic hand in her balcony, to the guards who had welcomed his mother in joy, even the lone child who stared at them with wide eyes from a corner- they were there, and they fled his glance, whispering words in each other´s ear.

Maeglin hated them for both things; for being the same, and for coming.

"...Dark Elf..."

"...his son..."

"...come to see him die..."

A strong, chilly wind was blowing in the hilltop of Caragdûr. Maeglin wrapped the cloak tightly around his shoulders, not wondering anymore why he needed to. The void in his fëa had swallowed everything, even his warmth.

"...here he comes..."

"...red eyes..."

The rumour of whispers increased, and now he felt the attention of the Gondolindrim shift towards several men who were making their way through the crowd. Maeglin winced- those people talked too much.

And it wouldn´t be a surprise that he was thinking exactly the same thing, he mused with a mixture of horror and fascination as they drew closer to him. and he could distinguish the pale, slightly hunched figure in their midst. But, if only yesterday the Dark Elf´s intense stares had shown fury, bewilderment, and defiance, today they were empty of any emotion besides indifference; for the Kinslayers and their whispers, for his own death, even for the dawning light.

Maeglin swallowed, watching his father arrive to the summit of the hill, coloured in reddish hues by the sun rising behind the mountains that girdled the Secret City. A part of his heart still could not get himself to believe that it would be like this; that Eöl would die without fighting back. And the Gondolindrim shared his apprehenshions, because the men who had accompanied him retreated a few steps, leaving him alone in front of the precipice. Any struggle in that treacherous place could kill more than one man.

Eöl ignored them, turning to inspect the fall with absent interest. One of the guards gave a step in his direction, as if intending to use the chance to push him into his death, but before his other foot could move, he thought better of it and stepped back in place.

The Dark Elf turned back to face them. Maeglin could hear the muffled gasps coming from many mouths as his red eyes came into full view.

"...spawn of Morgoth..."

No, he thought in fury, recalling the endless nights of weakness, the fear in those eyes whenever he felt his son´s fëa slipping through his hands. He remembered how his mother had deceived him, how in the brief instant before the smile he had looked confused at her fall. He´s an Elf, like us. He can be killed. He can die.

In an impulse, Maeglin´s hand sought the handle of Anguirel, and he stared back into his father´s eyes. No, you will not escape.

Aredhel writhed in bed, her eyes full of horror.

"Get away from him!"

Eöl seemed to notice his intent, because he smiled. By now, the whispers of the Gondolindrim had turned into an ominous noise around them.

"So you forsake your father and his kin, ill-gotten son." he said, in a low voice that somehow managed to be heard by everyone like a hiss in the ear. Next to them, Idril was shifting nervously. "Here shall you fail of all your hopes, and here may you yet die the same death as I."

Maeglin froze. His hand increased the pressure on the hilt of his sword, but it was cold and unresponsive like a vulgar chunk of black metal. Everybody was eyeing him now, with a mixture of curiosity and horror.

Eöl turned his back to him. One more second, and a ripping pain tore his insides in a hundred pieces.

No one heard the sound of the fall.

---

Chapter End Notes

(1) Blind Guardian, "Thorn".

Epilogue: The Fall

Read Epilogue: The Fall

come, play the song of death... (1)

The night was quiet, almost deceptively calm as the noise of steel against steel, of deathly screams drifted on and off from a faraway distance. A rigid body lay on the ground, surrounded by a puddle of blood, and torn in so many different angles that it had become almost sinisterly unrecognisable.

The raven-haired lady shrouded in mist knelt at its side, in silence. Her hand tried to hold the broken head once, twice, thrice, but it always slipped through her pale fingers.

Her face contorted in a powerful, tearless agony.

"Look who is here." a mocking voice spat behind her back. She turned back with the well-honed instincts of a hunter, only to see a familiar form emerge from the shadows. "The Houseless Lady of the Noldor."

Though already faded by death and time, Eöl´s eyes alone still posessed the gleaming spark of the living as he fixed them on hers.

"You are trying to weep? Our kind does not have tears."

Aredhel tore her gaze away from him, abruptly. Eöl approached them, and his stare reverted towards the remains of the lying body.

"My worthy son." He smiled. "He coveted the precious light of the Noldor as not even I did. "His eyes went up to the summit of the precipice, and for a timeless second he seemed to bathe in the faraway sounds and smells of destruction, a shout, an Orc´s growl, smoke, the roaring swish of a Balrog´s whip. "And he avenged me magnificently, on this city of Kinslayers, on their light, on you" he lowered his glance again," and on himself."

Aredhel tensed even more at those words, but she still refused to look at him.

"It was your curse."she whispered."Itr was you, who killed him because he didn´t want to be yours."

Eöl laughed, a terribly eerie sound.

"My curse? I spoke no curse. That was foresight."

"Foresight!" She spat that word as if it was a terrible blasphemy. He did not flinch.

"And you are as much of a hypocrite as always, my wife." he added, mimicking the disgusted inflection of her voice to speak the last word. Aredhel did not answer, trying once more to touch her son´s forehead in vain.

"Oh, yes." he continued after a pause, his voice brimming with malevolent glee. "Do you think I do not know what you did? Do you think I did not see you back then, as Maeglin fought that mortal on the stairs above?"

Her hand began to tremble.

"You blinded him. You killed him."

Aredhel jerked at the accusation, flinching as if she had been pierced by a spear.

"I did not."

"I saw it."

The trembling became shivering, and she faced him in anger.

"It was you all along. Your... your darkness posessed him!" she cried. "He had become the fell tool of your designs!"

"You killed him because he didn´t want to be yours." he quoted, in frozen irony.

Aredhel´s anger grew into a burning, all-consuming wrath. A raging gale surrounded them, wringing a shrill concert of screams from the stones and rocks that drowned even the turmoil of war.

"Even after Arda is broken and remade, Dark Elf, I will still hate you!"

Eöl´s eyes sparkled for a moment, then fell back to their initial emotionless expression. Sending a last glance in the direction of his raving wife and his shattered son, he turned his back on them.

"He is still breathing." he muttered, before disappearing into the shadows.

(The End)

---

Chapter End Notes

(1) Blind Guardian, Thorn.