House of the Golden Flower by Anu

Chapter One:

I was but a child when my village was destroyed. I woke to flames and the smell of death and blood, and fleeing my bed, managed to safely evade the band of orcs raiding that night. I must truly have been watched over by the Valar, for I was not captured.

Into deepest dark forest I slipped away, hiding myself like an animal, peering out from the cover of night-darkened thicket, my silvery hair in my eyes. I couldn't have been more than twenty at the time, young for an elf.

When day came I searched the rubble and ashes. Everything was destroyed, even the remains of my fellow elves. We had settled here from the mountains, coming from the hidden city when I was a babe at the breast. I did not remember the name of where I was born, and after that night I retained very little of my former memory and intelligence. But I was still keen of wit and my survival instincts strong. I knew only that we had come from the mountains, and so that was where I fled.

It was a long journey to a valley between three mountains with a stream running through it. I stayed there because it was the first place I had not seen men or orcs. There were foul beasts through here from time to time, passing wargs and the like, but here I remained for many years, years that were little more than uncounted seasons.

Then he came. I had forgotten how to speak then, and had not done it in many years. I had still a voice, for I sang and mimicked the animals and gave hunting calls, often singing simply to amuse myself during long afternoons. In all this time, I had no companion, and was fast drawing near the time when I would come of age and not only my hungry mind but hungry body would draw me forth, seeking sation.

If I had, I would have surely been destroyed easily outside of my sheltered valley, for the lands around had become darker and I well knew it. It was summer, and I was keeping watch on the north range of the smaller mountainside, watching a party of eastern men pass by on their own mysterious business when the far-off rush of wind on wings spun me around.

A great eagle passed within a mile of my position in the bare rocks, and as swiftly I ducked in instinctive fear of the great bird, baring my teeth and crouching in the boulders, I knew that its lone rider had seen me.

I knew not what manner of creatures rode such birds, I had never seen either this closely before, and as the eagle wheeled around the pinnacle, returning for another look, I broke cover and fled down the steep mountain path, booted feet slipping on gravel, breechclout and unbraided fall of long blonde hair whipping behind me.

I was desperate to escape, uncaring that I'd been sighted. Going downhill I made very good speed toward the tree line where safety lay, but soon I felt a soft buffet of air from great wings and dove madly off a boulder into the trees below, rolling down the ravine and coming to a stop in the early spring's bushy growth. The eagle screeched its disappointment, sweeping over the treetops. After a bare moment to recover, I fled again, keeping cover.

Beneath the pines there were many clearings, and I raced toward the stream, knowing the thicker brush would hide me best from this brilliant new menace. As I broke cover again and fled for the nearest clump of heavy growth, the bird swooped low enough that I caught a glimpse of its talons, extended to snatch me, and baring my teeth in a hiss, keep my pace. My eyes darted to the rider, little more than fifty feet from me, and I caught sight of shimmering silvery hair, flowing fabric and keen silver eyes before I placed sheltering oaks and pines between us again.

My headlong dashes soon brought me to the safety of my waterside haunts and I cowered there, panting as the eagle wheeled and circled, searching uselessly for me. At dusk eagle and rider departed and I was left alone with my pounding heart and fears.

By dawn I had determined to remain even more hidden in my valley, for it truly was not safe to leave. The winged rider did not come that day, or the next, or anytime after, although I saw glimpses of them sometimes, far to the southwest.

I had begun to forget about him by winter, and spring found me sweating over a hide, tanning the leather to replace my boots when I heard the nightmarish echoing shriek. I fled, and remained hidden deep in an old mallorn for three days, not venturing out even to gather food for myself. When I did, he was gone again, and my leather was sorely ruined. I berated myself for fleeing so foolishly and took up my wooden spear to sharpen upon a rock and hunt some new leather.

He came again in the fall, at dawn, and flew leisurely over the valley all day, pausing in the late afternoon to alight where he had spotted me the first time. Hidden in the treetops, I watched him, noting from the landmarks where he stood that he was taller than I, and larger. From watching the passing east men, I had gathered that I was rather tall, and I stared at him fascinated, munching dried berries and sewing crudely to repair a tear in my winter fur, a task I had left for the long, slow days of summer.

When he took wing again, he circled a while longer, then left just before dusk. I slept well, despite my overpowering curiosity. I was jumpy and nervous all morning watching the skies for him. When he did not appear by noon, I slunk out and went up to where he had settled down. His smell was there, as well as that of the bird, windblown and fresh. I found three bent feathers, stowing them in my clout, and poked about, examining his footprints and trail.

He had searched uselessly for any trace of me, as I hadn't gone up there again since I was chased down, instead using a different lookout point. In the dirt where I had crouched beside the boulder that day, I spotted something shining brightly. I ducked into the shade of the boulder and brushed my hair back, picking up the object. It was a stone in a chain of silver, and I vaguely remembered that my mother, now just a foggy figure in memory, had worn something similar on her wrist. It had been a gift from my father, I recalled disjointedly. The stone was a brilliant blue-green, probably turquoise like the rocks in the bend of the stream near a she-bear's winter den.

I fingered it absently a moment, peering at the fading sky. It was a gift, left here in the outline of my body in the gravel, meant for me, obviously. Yet what would I give in return? I had no beautiful things. Rubbing the stone with my thumb, I gazed at it anew. It was large enough to slip about my neck without undoing the clasp, and so that is what I did. I took up my spear and went back down the mountain in the growing dusk, puzzling over my problem.

I lay awake that night in the soft, thick grass of the gentle incline of the riverbank, my chosen sleeping place for that night, staring up at the bright stars through the black tree limbs. A sudden thought occurred to me. Perhaps a leather belt decorated with bored bits of rock? I had made dozens of rough beads this summer to use on clothes this winter when I would have time to sew. An intricate pattern leapt at me, and with a surge of adrenaline I smiled, laughed aloud, and then turned over in the sweet smelling grass to sleep.

I spent the winter hunched over the long strip of leather, wishing I had measurement of the eagle rider's waist. In the end I simply measured it to my own slim hips at their widest point to be sure it would fit and braided what I did not bead. By spring it was finished, a glittering, smooth marvel of two season's steady work, and I hung it from the inside of the hollow tree that made up my winter home and beamed at it with pride every day. The gift had given me something to do, and I had made many new songs while working on it.

I was pleased, and that feeling did not fade over time, the ache in my shoulders a steady reminder of the thing I had created in my loneliness and search for approval. Eventually spring came and I waited eagerly for him to appear again, stroking the blue, black, white and gray beads every time I saw them, polishing them to a bright sheen. When summer came and he did not, I was nearly heartbroken, and quite disgusted with myself for all this silliness over a petty trinket.

Yet the comforting weight of the necklace against my bare chest was a gentle promise, daily bringing me hope that I was not, indeed, truly alone.

I sighted him in late fall, when snow was already beginning to gather heavily on the slopes. I wrapped myself in my winter furs and set out for the mountainside. I got there at midmorning, when a glance confirmed that the eagle was circling the other ridges near the river. I laid the belt lovingly in the same place, rubbing the necklace where it hung on my bare chest, shivering in the furs. I glanced up, and did not see the bird. Somewhat worried, I fled back to the shelter of the pines, making my way back to the river.

The lowlands were warm, but the wind held the first bite of cold. I dropped into my winter home and slept there, curled in the warmth. When I woke the heat of the old tree was nearly unbearable, but my clothes had dried of the snow I had gathered on them.

I dressed in them and set out again, first checking to be sure that the great eagle and its rider were nowhere nearby. When I arrived at the boulder, there was a neatly folded swath of cloth there. Curios, I picked it up and it unrolled to be a large, thick winter robe, perfectly fitted to my proportions. I held the fine heavy fabric a moment, breathing deeply of its pleasant scent, very like that of the one who had brought it here, the smell that pervaded the area where I was.

Tossing aside my winter furs, I bundled in it and wrapped my furs around it, grateful for the warmth the fine cloth offered. I was pleased, and laughed into the wind, not caring if it carried the musical sound far off. I looked again to see if there was anything else there, and a bit of leather-wrapped paper caught my eye. I sat on my haunches in the snowy gravel and peered at it sadly. For some reason beyond me, it was sad to know I had forgotten how to read, and I wept.

I saved the bit of paper, poring over it long winter days, but it held no meaning for me even unto the day when it finally was lost to me, destroyed by time and the elements. That summer there was a lot of Orc and men activity outside the valley and along its borders, and that fall a band of orcs passed through, scaring off the wildlife for weeks.

I built more spears and braved the danger of exploring a cave that I might have a safe place to hide in, just in case. More seasons, years, came and went as I watched helplessly, defending myself from detection, hiding as the orcs came and built a garrison in the east of my valley, polluting the creek there, tainting the river and the lands they settled.

I forget how long it had been, how many seasons before I woke up one day with the sudden realization that I hadn't seen the eagle and its rider in at least four summers. I worried, and watched. The orcs left after about two summers, and my valley was slow to recover, the lands the orcs had marred seeming heartbroken. Another winter and summer came, and I began to live in my cave more often during winters.

I really wasn't expecting the wargs, and the night they came down from the hills they caught me by surprise. Five of them, one of me, and I only had three spears. Taking what I could easily carry, I left my summer haunts along the stream and fled for my cave. It was folly to fight them, but I preferred to do it on open ground and not in the confines of my cave, where I wouldn't have a chance.

I gave up trying to outrun them and fought, and when the sun rose it found me skinning the third of them, fighting off the carrion eaters, brushing flies from my bound and bleeding right leg. I was stubborn, valuing the large, thick hides more than my health, and when I had dragged all five of them back to my cave, I was dizzy and ill already.

Alone, I lay in the dark on the floor of my cave crying out with fever delirium, sweating and shaking. I didn't know how long it was when I woke, but I managed to drag myself to water and drink. When I woke, I repeated the process. About the fourth or fifth time I woke I managed to bathe my wounds and eat healing herbs, applying what I had chewed but couldn't manage to swallow to my leg.

The next time I woke I felt so much stronger I was able to treat my leg, binding it tighter. There was a livid slice trailing up from my ankle, crossing over my calf and shin, ending below my knee. I had a series of gashes on my upper left arm that were probably from teeth, and the cut on my hip wasn't too serious, although deep.

When I felt well enough to, I walked, and when I was tired, I slept. I hunted when I felt capable, not begrudging myself a few failed efforts.

I attempted to tan the hides, and when winter came I was holed up in my cave, nearly as well as I had been before, and twice as vigilant. Every day I guarded the perimeter of my valley, ate, and slept. It became routine, and almost before I knew it, I began to roam restlessly with spring.

I gave myself release increasingly often, wandered without knowing what I sought and watched for the eagle rider in sheer desperate loneliness. My valley felt small and enclosing for the first time. Two more seasons brought me to the pit of despair. I lay awake at night, biting the back of my hand until blood flowed, screams of pure longing and need for someone, anyone of my shape and form making my throat hoarse.

By day I sat dejectedly in the rocks, watching over my valley. By summer I no longer held back the screams, and walked about at night, wailing in the shaming anguish of my need for intelligent companionship that dwarfed even my sexual desires. Inarticulate shouts welled in me day and night and I let them free, uncaring who heard.

Orcs came and I killed them, beasts came and I killed them, men came and I scared them off, until no one came anymore. Like an animal, I took out my rage on the trees, thrashing each sapling victim until the sight of broken branches scattered about appeased my lonely lust for destruction, my frustrated urges to give and take and please overwhelming.

I created things, weaving baskets and humming, until the finished creations accumulated and got in my way, and I tore them up and tossed them about, angry that nothing could bring me peace. Summer was miserable, long and hot. I began to wish for the end.

An unusually warm autumn day found me lying like a dead thing in the shade of the pines, surrounded by the evidence of my latest sapling foe. An eagle's screech pierced the air, and for once anger and loneliness overcame all other emotion, even desire to survive and fear, so I screamed back in full-voiced, gut-wrenching loneliness, all the pain of a hopeless, tortured soul.

The bird's cry came again, and I replied in kind, sitting up, my eyes tearing in hope and loss and need for companionship. I was near a large clearing, standing quietly, leaning against a pine, tears running down my face when the creature alighted. Its rider prowled about even as I watched, my voice hoarse, my limbs numb with long-desired hope. When he finally turned and sighted me there, he gave pause.

I knew I had grown taller, and I kept my hair roughly cropped at my hips, the robe long years reduced to the breechclout I wore on a slim leather belt like the one I had made him so very long ago. I waited quietly, motionless, eyes dull, for him to approach. He came forward slowly, half crouched, golden hair and silver eyes shining in the early afternoon sunlight. He approached slowly and stopped within four meters of me, standing at the edge of the brush line. He held out a long slim hand and waited, silver eyes searching me.

On an impulse, I stepped forward out of the deep shade into the dappled light. My eyes met his. His mouth twitched, and my loneliness welled again in my gut, and for a moment I thought I would surely howl louder than ever before and drop dead, but I did not, instead I surprised myself, leaping forward and crashing my body against him.

I wanted to hold the solid warmth of another form to my chest and neck, to give the other creature like me my weakness, and I buried my face in his neck, immersing myself in the scent of him even as my weight drove him backwards. I lay atop him; my body pressed against his heavy, solid figure, breathing in the smell of him that went long ways in reassuring me that I was not alone.

I wanted his weight atop me, to be crushed and weak and defenseless to the only one who had ever shown me love or care or even seen me for that matter, and when I rolled onto my back and pulled him atop me I let out a sigh. His weight alleviated the crushing loneliness and I laughed and cried at once in relief. He overcame his startlement and his silver eyes met mine, and I laughed joyously, tears flowing down my face into my hair, and I knew in that moment that I had found him, and with him, I had found myself at last.

Chapter Two:

After our initial meeting, he spoke to me and I was disappointed to have forgotten speech, but what he was able to make me understand was that I was and elf, just as he was, and that I should not live here alone. Hungry for him, I clung to him and agreed to leave my valley, which had grown so small and enclosive I was glad to leave it far behind and go with him to wherever he lived.

He pointed to the sun and to the sleeping eagle in the branches of a nearby tree, and motioned that we must leave. I kept his hand and allowed him to lead me to the bird, which acquiesced pleasantly to our boarding. I was nervous to sit atop the softly feathered predator, but the elf reassured me, sitting behind me with his arms about my bare waist.

Hungry for his touch I leaned back against him, but when the bird took off I reached back and gripped his thighs tightly in fear. He soothed me with gently spoken words so soft I nearly could not hear them, and I calmed for him.

The journey was not long over the hills and mountains; and I was awed by the sight and by the joy of having him with me. Why, I wondered, did I ever run away from him in the first place? I was but a child then, afraid, and I didn't know the power his touch placed on me. Starved for companionship as I was, I was deeply asleep, lulled by his warmth and similarity to myself by the time the bird landed. I woke with a start at not only the alien sound of voices and civilization, but at the suddenness of no longer being in the air.

He moved behind me, getting off the warm, feathered back and I whimpered, uncertain and afraid. He shushed me softly and helped me down, letting me hide against his strong form. The ground was sand under my soft boots, and a quick glance around revealed that we were in another valley, surrounded by brilliantly strange trees. More like us went casually by in the sunset light and I reached out uncertainly to touch the hair of a passing female, earning a giggle from her and small sound of amusement from the man beside me.

A tall four-legged creature the size of a warg walked by, snorting as the bird lifted off, and I immediately clung in fear, wishing for my spear. The elf did not seem alarmed, and began to walk on. I stayed with him, taking his hand and receiving comforting squeezes in response to my jolts of panic.

He took me to the biggest tree-thing and began to walk inside. I balked at the door, eyes wide in fear, feet scraping nervously on the stone underfoot. With a reassuring smile he put an arm around my waist and I leaned into him, willing to be led. He took me through a series of cave-like halls until he came to a room where he seemed to visibly relax. I looked around. The room smelled like him, I supposed this must be his winter home.

He released me and I let him, dropping to a crouch and slinking forward to carefully inspect a massive, strange looking object he had no fear of. When I poked it, it did not react. I wondered over this strange thing while he laughed. I turned to look at him and he pointed and said "Bed." I blinked, and then repeated the word. "Bed?" He pointed to it again, wordlessly. I looked at it. "Bed." I said disbelievingly.

He seemed genuinely amused by this, though I hadn't the faintest idea why.

A door opened, and in came another being. I watched amazed, as they talked together for a moment, looking at me. Then the female, I guessed it to be female, drawing on old memories of what was what from when I was young, left the room laughing softly to herself.

I crept around the room, similarly inspecting the furniture, learning new names for things, candle, bed, closet, fireplace, desk, chair, boots, clothes, and window. But I had yet to learn the name of the most important thing in the room. I turned to him and pointed. His amused smile widened to a grin. "Turgon." He said. "Turgon." I repeated, creeping closer to him, giving a mock impression of my inspection of everything else. "You've got a dramatic streak. Mischievous as all get out, too." He rumbled to himself, but I calmly ignored him, smiling a bit myself.

I touched his mouth with my finger, pointing. "Lips." He said, trying not to move them. I repeated after him, smiling at this new game and pointing to his nose. "Nose." He told me calmly. We went on and soon he was fighting to keep form laughing enough to speak. "Eyes." "Chin." "Ears." "Hair." "Tongue." "Teeth." Finally I spared him some mercy and quit with that game at "Neck.".

Then I asked another important one. I pointed at myself. A sadness came over his face, and he reached out and stroked my long hair absently. "Glorfindel." He named me. I waited. "Golden-haired." He said with finality. I smiled. "Glorfindel. Golden-haired." He pulled me close and I held him tight, savoring the solid warmth of his body. The female returned through the door a moment later, and he abruptly stopped leaning on me, and I nearly fell at the loss of balance.

The woman set a tray of food on the desk and left, and I followed Turgon to the food. There was meat, but it was overcooked and I made a face, which made Turgon laugh. I couldn't help a smile, and wiped my hands on my chest and picked up a smaller bit and tried it. He watched with amusement as I looked about for a place to spit it out.

I wiped my hands and tried some of the fruit-looking stuff, which surprisingly enough did turn out to be fruit. I gathered it all up and sat myself on the cold stone floor, eating happily. Turgon joined me, also eating with his hands. His attempts to teach me while eating failed miserably. When I finished, I wiped my hands on my chest again and smacked my lips.

He pointed to the scar that curved around my right calf and I struggled to describe the wargs with my insufficient vocabulary, and gave up with a sigh, leaning on him again. After a moment he finished eating and returned the gesture of trust, leaning against me with equal measure so that we held one another upright.

It began to grow very dark in the room and I began to feel drowsy. Turgon sat me up, and stood. I followed suit, watching curiously as he lit a fire in the fireplace. I had seen orcs and men with fire, and was awed by the warmth. He left me sitting on the hearth, impressed by the flickering heat and went into the adjoining room for a while. When he returned he motioned me to follow, and so I rose and did so.

The room was large, with a pool of water set into the floor. When I had looked in here earlier this pond had been empty. Now it was full of clear water. I knelt beside it and touched the water. It was pleasantly warm, like a ditch in summer. I tasted the water. Fresh, clear and pure. I looked over at Turgon curiously. "Bath." He said. I nodded and stood.

He began to get undressed, and so I followed suit, guessing the intent of the water. He got in first, easing down into a sitting position with a sigh. I stepped down into it, surprised to find it at mid-thigh. It hadn't looked this deep. I sat down beside him, scrubbing at my skin with my hands, having no sand on hand to aid me. Amused, he handed me a flat, slippery bar that smelled pleasant and tasted disgusting. "Soap." He said, laughing at my confusion.

"Soap?" I asked him. "Yes. Let me show you." He said, holding out his hand. I refused to relinquish the prize. He could just get another wherever he got this one. He sighed and took the soap, my hand still firmly attached and scrubbed and my chest, then at his own, rinsing it off and trailing my fingertips over the area. I was surprised to find the skin cleaned there. "Soap!" I said joyfully and started scrubbing at myself in earnest, then him. He allowed it, laughing too hard to refuse much. Only when I had used it all was I satisfied, and huddled down into the water, content.

He got out, wrapping his body in a towel and handing me one as well. I stepped out and took the towel, sighing softly as the entire day caught up with me all in one moment. My head hurt and I rubbed my eyes, yawning. He led me back into the room and tried to make me lay on the bed but I refused stubbornly, getting off it every time he turned and attempted to dress.

He sighed exasperatedly, jerking on a pair of sleep pants and laying down on the bed, pulling the covers over himself. "Nice. Good. See?" He patted the place beside him. Dubiously, I dropped the towel and clambered in, shivering at the coolness of the cloth and huddling against Turgon. If he minded, he didn't let on and I settled happily beside him.

I was asleep in five minutes, not missing the cool autumn night and the dried summer grass that would have made up my bed this night in favor of Turgon's warmth, smell, and closeness. For the first time in years, I slept, and as I dozed off, I puzzled a funny thing. I hadn't howled like an animal or felt the aching loneliness since that first touch beneath the pines. It was peace, this new sensation, and I was happy.

Chapter Three:

I woke at dawn, as was my long habit, and lay very still, surrounded by new sights, smells, and sounds, fearful for a moment. Then Turgon moved beside me in his sleep and I remembered the previous day's events. I looked at him contentedly, smiling at how his hair flowed about him in his sleep, how his fingers and lips twitched.

I bent down to press my lips to his neck just below his ear a moment, then rose and went to look out the window. It was day now, the sun just rising over the mountains. This valley was far larger than my own, and a veritable fortress of rock and sky. Among the strange tree-like things people moved, going about their daily occupations, singing and talking and laughing.

Curios, I halfway longed to join them.
Behind me, I heard the change in breathing that signaled Turgon was awake, and when I turned around to look at him, he was searching the bed desperately. He met my eyes and sighed in relief to see me there. I gave him a small secretive smile and turned back to the window, admiring the busy life below as much as the sun on my bare skin that I was currently basking in.

He came to stand behind me, looking out, seeing what I saw and trying to see it through my eyes. Considerately, he pointed things out to me and named them. I learned more words. House, elves, men, women, maidens, horses, market, singing, laughter, speech, talking, pigs, cattle, rooster. With a soft smile he turned me away from the window at last and pulled out pants, tunics and robes, and laid them on the unmade bed. He then pointed to them with a long thin finger.

"Clothes." He said, and there was a note of determination in his voice. I didn't quite understand, so he began to dress in another set of them, explaining items of clothing as I put them on. I learned pants, shirt, boots and robe. We then set out of the room together, hand in hand by way of encouragement. We were not five strides from the door before I grew tired of the hindering robe and took it off, throwing it back into the room.

Turgon seemed to be hiding a smile and I glared at him, fighting the high and tight collar on the shirt. His clothes were too big for me in some places, others not. The shirt was drawn tightly over my chest and shoulder and arms, but the waist of it fell loose and too long. The pants were a bit small in the thighs and buttocks, seeing how I was more muscular than he, if slightly shorter.

He led me to a large room where several people were gathered, apparently waiting for us to eat. They rose when he entered and I cowered behind him at the sudden movements, not understand honoraries yet. He motioned for everyone to be seated and dragged me, resisting mildly to the table, seating me beside a woman at his right hand. Everyone was staring at me, and feeling a defensive urge to bare my teeth and growl at them, I resisted it because I somehow got the feeling that Turgon would not appreciate it. These people talked to one another and to Turgon, and I dared glance up and met the silver eyes of an elf who smiled at me kindly before looking away.

The woman beside me was very beautiful and graceful, and openly curios about me, and thus I took care not to look at her directly. Midway through the rather simple midmorning meal of fruit and light meats and breads by choice Turgon noticed my shyness and how I kept my eyes averted and my body in a defiantly defensive stance.

He reached over and nudged my hand so that I looked at him, and pointed with his chin at the silver-haired elf across the table from me. "Ecthelion." He said. I dared look at the other elf then, repeating the name. "Ecthelion." He smiled on one side of his mouth at me, and Turgon nudged me again. I refrained from using my hands to point as I said my own name, the name Turgon had given me and called me. "Glorfindel." I said, careful to reproduce the word just as I had heard it.

The woman beside me turned halfway in her chair to look at me and despite myself my eyes darted up to hers. "Idril." She introduced herself, and then pointed gracefully at Turgon over her shoulder. "My Adar, Turgon." I remembered 'my', from the times that Turgon had said the word, and realized it claimed ownership. I did not understand her other word, but Turgon was mine, he had saved me long ago, the first time I saw him and he had brought to me the knowledge that other creatures like myself existed in the world.

I narrowed my eyes at her, and repeated the word with defiance and ownership lacing my voice. "My Turgon." It was childish and immature, but uneducated as I was; I was not stupid or childish. I truly believe, even to this day, that I was the first to recognize what we had.

Ecthelion, Turgon and Idril all laughed at that, a light cheery sound. I would have joined them had the circumstances been different, but I sat silent and still until they had finished their laughter. Idril turned to speak to me again and I rose and fled like the wild thing I was, unable to understand anything and very afraid of all the risky unknowing I felt around them all, the entire situation smacking of danger to me.

I fled to where the outside called strongest and found myself in a high-walled garden, and scrambled up an oak tree. No one came after me for quite a while, an hour I judged by the sun, and Ecthelion crept upon me so silently that I was sitting alone in the tree one moment, and the next looking into a gentle, noble pair of silver eyes.

Startled, I jumped up and swung my leg out at him with bone-crunching force, but he caught my ankle easily and hung me upside down and flailing from the tree. When I finally gave up fighting him and hung still, he lifted me back up and set me on the branch. I glared at him. He gazed coolly at me. "You're angry because you don't understand them, and because they don't understand you." He said flatly, stating the obvious.

I did not understand his words, but I knew his tone, even on that unfamiliar voice I picked out the honesty and understanding that he showed in the depths of his shining eyes. I nodded, the only sign of agreement I could give at all. He laid an arm over my shoulders and said no more, for I wouldn't have understood it. He was pleasant company, and I sat with him until the heat of the day reminded me of my hunger and that the tree was a very uncomfortable place to sit for so long.

I climbed down, and he followed me. I wandered the halls for hours, Ecthelion simply shadowing me, making sure I was left alone. By night I had mapped out the entire lower floor of the palace tower, and I turned to Ecthelion, tired. "Turgon." I said softly to the silver-haired one and he took my hand and led me back up the halls to Turgon's rooms, allowing me to see where we were going and to memorize the way.

When we reached the rooms, he knocked, and getting no answer, entered. Turgon was there, already in bed asleep. He woke when Ecthelion cleared his throat, standing at the foot of the bed. "Have you found him?" he asked, worried. I stepped into the light from the window and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the Valar for you, Ecthelion." Ecthelion nodded and I released his hand and took off the shirt and toed off my boots, crawling into bed beside Turgon with no hesitation whatsoever.

I lay there and listened to them speak, interested by the pitch and tone of their voices as much as the words, which I swiftly committed to memory, recognizing their tense and use from Turgon's having aided me already.

"Isn't he a little young for you, Turgon?" Ecthelion asked.

"He is of age, I'm sure of it. Thorondor's sons sighted him in that valley more than thirty years ago. Besides, I'm only teaching him to live on his own." Turgon defended himself.

"But he is as naïve and innocent as a child of ten. And he does not understand or speak, neither the forbidden language nor Sindarin. It is folly, Turgon."

"I will teach him. And I will not touch him until he comes to me as the man he is."

"Have I your promise?"

"You have it, and my word of honor is as good as your own."

With that Ecthelion left the room, closing the door behind him and Turgon looked over at me. I smiled sleepily at him and burrowed into the pillow. The whole bed smelled like him, and I found it most pleasant. He lay down after a moment and was asleep at nearly the same time as I was. This day had brought me Ecthelion, a man who was concerned for my honor as well as my emotional well-being.

Chapter Four:

Morning brought me Ecthelion again, just after dawn when Turgon and I had risen and were dressing. I would have worn the same clothes I had the previous day but for Turgon, who made me take them off and put on different ones. I really didn't see the point of the exercise, but I supposed I could wear clean clothes to satisfy him. I hadn't got the ones of the day before too dirty, and had partially restrained myself from wiping my hands on the chest of the white shirt repeatedly throughout the day.

Ecthelion tapped at the door and Turgon opened it, and they talked together for a moment while I was putting on my boots. When I rose and joined them at the door Turgon motioned that I was to go with Ecthelion. I did so, and we parted ways as we had before. Ecthelion allowed me to roam the halls with my eyes, familiarizing myself with the house as we went, but not allowing me to tarry.

He led me to a large room where cloth was stored and woven and spun, and elf maidens tittered at Ecthelion and I, much to my embarrassment. I was then measured by one of them for clothes, having to pull Turgon's clothing taut so she could get as accurate as possible without making me take them off. Turgon's shirt was so much smaller in the shoulders-not that he was small-that I had to remove it in the presence of the ogling maidens and Ecthelion.

Luckily enough, Turgon's legs and mine were much the same in length, although mine were far different in musculature. His pants were tight across my thighs down near the knee and loose in the seat. After the ordeal of being fitted for clothes, Ecthelion took me downstairs for the midmorning meal. Once again I was seated at Turgon's right hand beside the lady Idril and Ecthelion was a reassuring presence across from me.

We were pretty much the only ones there, seated all at one end of a massive banqueting table. There were a few people down at the end but I dared not glance at them. I was nervous with Idril beside me, but she ignored me calmly and I managed to survive the meal, even eating a little in the lady's dauntingly beautiful presence.

After we had eaten, Turgon and Ecthelion spoke to one another again and I strained to hear and understand what they said, but caught very little of it. Once again, I went with Ecthelion when we left the hall.

He took me upstairs then, and let me roam as I pleased, following me, aiding me the few times I got lost. By noon I had been over the entire palace tower and knew my way around, I had learned where Idril's rooms were, where Turgon's were, found Turgon in his study and gave him a smile in passing, explored the nooks of various rooms, and being hungry again, turned to Ecthelion, who had been keeping up a steady stream of naming-words all morning.

I touched my stomach through the loose shirt and he seemed to understand without further explanation. Quite possibly he was as hungry as was I. He touched his own belly. "Stomach." He explained. "Hungry, inside. Yes?" I grinned at him. "Yes. Very." He seemed surprised at the new word.

In truth, I was picking up language far more quickly than Ecthelion had anticipated, and when the mild shock wore off as we were walking down to the dining hall, he tried to see just how much I knew. When we reached the dining hall he seemed satisfied, and sat me down at the table where Turgon, Idril and the guests at the end of the table were already eating. He talked animatedly with Turgon while he ate, sharing glances with me. I pretended not to notice that I was being talked about, and tried some of the white meat one of the servers had put on my plate. It was better than anything I'd ever had before and I was allowed to have as much as I pleased.

Such indulgence was a new thing for me and I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes when I was full. "Good." I told Turgon with a lazy smile. He laughed at me and returned the smile. I risked a glance at Idril, and she was eating and talking to a woman beside her, ignoring me entirely. Ecthelion was digging into his food with the abandon of a dwarf, and I sighed and relaxed, quite happy and content to be thus entirely ignored.

After the meal I allowed Ecthelion to lead me to a library we had found earlier, suppressing a few yawns. I'd eaten more since I met Turgon than I often ate in a week back in my valley, where game and vegetation were scarce enough I had to be careful to mete them out, lest I destroy the entire supply. In the library Ecthelion picked out a book and draped himself over a sofa, and I joined him.

With the book propped on his bent knees and me leaning my back against his shins, we sat like that until the light grew poor at dusk. He read aloud, and I drowsed in the sound of his voice, absorbing the vast amount of words poured into me. When it began to grow dark he closed the book and tapped my shoulder to signal me to get up, and laying the book back on the shelf where he had gotten it, he took me back to Turgon's rooms.

I was asleep when Turgon crawled into bed beside me, and I rolled into his warmth and buried my face in his neck. We slept thus in one another's arms until dawn came, and with it, another day of learning.

Chapter Five:

The next day, Ecthelion did not come, and I did not see him until the midmorning meal. After we had eaten, Turgon and Ecthelion took me outside, past the stables where there were more of the menacing horse-things for me to shy away from, to an area set apart for weapons practice and the like.

Ecthelion and Turgon spoke a moment, then Ecthelion darted off and returned with a spear. He handed it to me, and I looked at Turgon, confused. He pointed at a target roughly the size of a deer a little ways off. I understood, and hefting the spear I found that it was lighter than the ones I had made and were used to and would probably fly further. I stepped back until I was a bit out of range to make up for the lightness of the weapon, aimed, and threw.

The spear sailed through the target and embedded itself in the ground at an angle, target attached. It was the way I had developed to hunt, spearing the animal and rooting it to the ground until I could creep up and finish it off.

Turgon and Ecthelion seemed impressed and I accepted a second spear from Ecthelion and drove it all the way through a twenty-year pine. Turgon gave me an unreadable look and pulled on the spear, trying to wrest it free. I joined him and he stepped away. I laid one foot on the trunk beside the spear and gave it a good pull. It slid free and I handed it to Ecthelion, still friction hot and polished smooth. He grinned at me.

Turgon then drew his bow and proceeded to impress me with is archery skills. Ecthelion and Turgon then drew practice swords and sparred while I watched admiringly. Their undertakings to teach me bow and sword were laughable, but by the time we quit for evening meal I had stopped using the bow backwards.

Turgon and Ecthelion led me to a nearby hot spring; apparently its purpose was to serve as a bath for those who had used the practice arena. As we left two more elves took our place there and began sparring after a bow and nod to Turgon. The bath was simple, little more than a roofless enclosure around the small spring that steamed in the fading afternoon's coolness.

Following their example I stripped and got in, easing down into the hot water and coming to sit beside Ecthelion on an underwater shelf. I turned and noted Turgon watching with...anger? He broke eye contact and got in, scrubbing himself swiftly, taking no time to relax and sprawl as Ecthelion was doing beside me, his hair trailing in the water, swirling and eddying with mine.

Turgon was angry. With me? With Ecthelion? Ecthelion seemed unconcerned and was apparently ignoring us both, washing himself. It had to be me then. What had I done? I sank down to my chin in the water, washing myself with the sand at the bottom, as did they. Turgon fairly leapt form the tub and hid himself in a towel. Warily I followed suit only to have a towel thrown at me. Ecthelion, still lounging in the tub got a face full of towel for not catching quickly enough.

Turgon dressed quickly and stomped off, and Ecthelion and I were rushed to keep up with him. He slowed as we neared the doors and Ecthelion laced his boots and I finished fastening my shirt. Our clothes weren't too dirty from the work, and at least we were clean. It would be good enough to race up to our rooms and change. The last I saw of Turgon before he vanished at the top of the steps were his booted feet, somehow carrying his anger and stomping ever so slightly.

I didn't see him again until dinner, for when I went up to his room, he wasn't there, a truly puzzling thing. I dressed myself in whatever would feel decently enough, dried and brushed out my hair, then went down to the dining hall, only getting lost twice on the way and finding my way there without help.

Ecthelion looked as pleased as I when I sat in my usual seat and gave him a grin that announced my triumph. Turgon kept his eyes to himself all evening, as if he were afraid of me...or just angry with me. Again, I wondered what I had done wrong.

Idril's palm brushed into my left hand that was resting on my thigh and for a moment it felt almost like a reassuring caress. I looked at her sharply out of the corner of my eye, but the act was not repeated and I could discern nothing, not even concern.

I went to bed that night wondering how I could ever have thought of life here as somewhat simple, to be explained away by a single word. Turgon. He lay away from me that night on the very edge of the bed, with a pillow over his head and the blankets arranged like a wall between us. If I weren't so daunted by his sudden change of attitude I would have worried about him falling off the bed. As it was, I wouldn't have minded if he had, maybe it could knock some sort of sense into him.

I restrained my foot all night, fairly itching to kick him off just to hear him go thump on the floor and maybe start acting like the person I knew again.Chapter Six:

By the time the first snows fell, it was I who was reading the book aloud and leaning on Ecthelion’s shins, while he braided my hair and helped me when I got stuck on some of the words. Even as I was learning to speak and to read from Ecthelion, as well as the virtues of friendship and honor; from Turgon I was learning statesmanship and horsemanship - the latter of which was much to my dislike.

When I had the words to tell them that I disliked horses because they reminded me of both men and wargs, Turgon seemed amazed that I had killed five of the beasts myself the year before he came for me. Ecthelion had his doubts, but I assured them it was true, and having learned honesty and truth from these two, they believed me in time.

Turgon also queried me endlessly over my oldest memories, those of my family. Beyond the hideous memory of burned buildings and dead silver eyes, there was enough quality memory left for him to determine that I may have been born in Gondolin during the time it was being built, or possibly in Dorthonion. He made guesses at my age, none of which I ever took to heart, saying ‘Turgon thinks me to be one hundred, so one hundred I am’. Thus I still consider myself as ageless, having grown up in a valley where there was no time or others.

Beyond the fact that he knew me to be an adult by how long ago I had been spotted by eagles less bold than the one who had borne him to my valley, we never pursued finding out anything solid of my past. It was enough that I was here, that I was alive, and that I was not alone.

I befriended Idril that fall, taking her out for walks and talking with her, and she allowed me to pursue her to get over my shyness. When the first frosts came we were the closest of friends, and it was with she that I shared my secret heart, and she shared hers with me. We were close friends, different from Ecthelion and I, for Ecthelion was Turgon’s friend before mine. It was she who taught me to understand familial relationships again, and without her kind patience I would never have understood. Somehow she knew how to tap into the long forgotten memories and call up the proper reactions and answers from me.

At the beginning of winter Turgon gave me my own set of rooms near Ecthelion’s, but I slept in his more often than not, despite his encouragements for me to get out and live on my own. At midwinter things came to a head when he stormed into the study where I was sitting alone, reading.

"Glorfindel."
"Yes?" I looked up from my book.

"You are to sleep in your own rooms from now on. People are beginning to talk. You are very beautiful, and it’s altogether too easy for rumors to spread that you are my consort."

I snorted softly, incredulous. "Mellon-nin, people would believe that? Of you?"
"Yes. I am not just a King, Glorfindel; I am a man as well. It would be entirely too easy to believe."

I hung my head. "I’m sorry." I apologized.

"Don’t be." He said, sitting next to me on another chair. "Perhaps it would help if you chose a lovely young man or maiden for company this winter? There are not many who would refuse you."

I just looked at him, confused.
"You don’t mean that...by the Valar Glorfindel, you really have no clue, do you?"
I kept up my steady gaze and raised a brow at his latest manifestation of odd behavior, genuinely ignorant.

He wrung his hands and got up. 'I’ll ask Ecthelion to...explain to you about...attractions and desires...all right?"

I stood as well. "What in Arda are you talking about, Turgon? I have no idea what you are referring to."

"Yes, well, um, ah, I know you don’t. That’s why Ecthelion is going to explain to you. As soon as I can find him." He replied, strangely edgy, and darted out the door before I could stop him. Shaking my head, I returned to my book and couch, concluding that Turgon was a genuinely strange man.

Ecthelion arrived within the hour, looking as dodgy as Turgon had. I felt like smacking him when he stuttered for the fifth time in a single sentence. I grabbed his arm and hauled him to Idril. If anyone could figure this out and explain it to me, she could. After patiently listening to Ecthelion’s stuttering version of what Turgon had asked, demanded and later ordered of him, she laughed.

Ecthelion fled and I was left in the capable hands of my closest friend to learn about the complexities of life. Needless to say, her explanation was thorough, brief and required no anatomical studies or demonstrations, and at the end of the hour I sat tied to a chair to keep from fleeing just as Turgon and Ecthelion had, quivering like a traumatized elfling.

"Why? Why?" I asked, near-sobbing. "That’s disgusting, why do they do it? Who would want to do such a thing?" Again she laughed, and gave me a discreet explanation of the pleasure involved in the act of reproduction, using my assumed self-releases as an example. Her explanation of same sex couplings was just as brief, and when she untied me from the chair to distract me with a brisk ride on horseback, I all but fled down to the stable, preferring my dreaded four-legged foes to ideas about simpering maidens.

By dinnertime I had forgotten most of the trauma of the afternoon, but at the meal both Turgon and Ecthelion avoided my eyes, embarrassed. Idril chattered to me about something mundane, like weaving or some such, but I was too busy picking at my food and trying not to think about the fact that Ecthelion and Turgon seemed as traumatized as I about the whole ordeal. I wondered briefly if Turgon minded his daughter having been the one to...explain things, but the look of relief on both their faces suggested otherwise.

As soon as the last course was done, I fled, as did the other two. Idril’s giggles chased us up the stairs, where we three fled in opposite directions, far less than dignified.

For a while the issue was carefully avoided, but Turgon was the one who brought it up again. We were out riding in the foothills when he said out of the blue "You know, if you get too lonely this winter you can always find yourself a companion." At my glare he said quickly "I’m just saying that because I want to be sure you know I have no claim over you."

I pulled even with him and looked at him out of the corner of my eyes as I said "What if I didn’t mind a claim over me by you?" He made no sign of having heard me, but I knew he had. He had been a good friend to me for a long time, and riding in the winter snow with him that day, I realized what I had meant in jest was really true. I wouldn’t mind in the least, anymore than that, I realized, I would like it. Probably too much.

I wondered vaguely if he returned my affections.
That winter I took no companion, and nor did he. It was as if we were testing one another, trying to guess at each other’s hearts without revealing our own. I spoke to Idril about it. As ever, she was full of good advice, which I took to heart. When the first buds appeared in spring, she suggested that I break the impasse.

I agreed, although it was against my better judgment, and for Idril’s sake I came to her on the day of the First of Spring and let her dress me for the feast. She trimmed my hair at the top of my hips; brushed and braided it out, then selected clothes for me of the extensive wardrobe her father had seen to that I owned. I asked her teasingly if she thought it was a bit strange that she was dressing up an elf much younger than herself to court her father. She hit me with the hairbrush and so I held my tongue.

I felt effeminate, having her dress me, but when she drug me in front of the mirror, I have to admit I looked good. My formal robe hung and fell just right, and I had finally gotten my new boots broken in. My hair shone in a long fall over my arms, and there was no trace of the wild clout-clad elfling left in the tall nobleman standing there in the mirror. I moved, and it was something of a shock to see myself as such a different person than I knew myself to be tucking his hair behind his ears, my habit even in wild years.

Idril appeared behind me, leaning on my shoulder. "You look wonderful. How can he not like you as you like him? Smile, Glorfindel, and you’ll have him." I looked uncertainly at her blue gray eyes in the mirror, apprehensive. She grinned. I worried.

Chapter Seven:

"No! Idril, I can’t go out there, please! The noble houses are there, and the people. I can’t!" I protested, hiding at the top of the stairs.

She scowled at me. "Get your ass out here Glorfindel, or I shall have to do something truly horrible to you in public with polite decorum."

I stepped forward, and hesitated. Hers was no simple threat; she both could and would do something horrible to me in public while smiling pleasantly and sipping wine, talking about this year’s harvests or about a new weaving pattern. "Now." Her tone was dark. Blushing, I leapt to her side and halfway hid behind her.

"You can’t escort me down the stairs hiding behind me, you fool." She teased, taking my hand. I straitened my shoulders and took her arm, leading her down the stairs with perfect grace that belied my emotional state. "You’ll be alright." She assured, petting my hand with hers. I calmed somewhat, and then we reached the apex of the stairs and everyone turned to stare. I clutched my friend’s hand very tightly and resisted the urge to close my eyes, growl savagely out of gritted teeth and flee back up to my rooms.

I focused on the act of simply breathing and fixed my eyes on an invisible spot above the heads of the semi-formally scattered nobles in the Great Hall. "Why do they stare so?" I whimpered out of clenched teeth. "Because we are very beautiful and graceful, and because you will win my father’s heart this night, that is why. Take no heed of them Glorfindel, I will be with you as long as you need me." She soothed softly for my ears alone as we reached the main floor.

Turgon was talking with a nobleman over by the fountain in the garden; I could see him through the opened doors. One look at his familiar profile and I relaxed. This was nothing more than an annual social event. Why then, was I so afraid? Perhaps because I’d spent most of my life living alone in complete and utter isolation? Yes, that must be it, I told myself sarcastically.

Idril poked me. "Stop being so rude to yourself." She said softly, amused. "How do you know I am?" I countered. She grinned and leaned close for ease in whispering. "You’re the only person I’ve ever met who talks to themselves, both in and out of their heads. Unfortunately, you also tend to beat yourself up, which I must intervene in, because you are far to good a friend to me to allow such debasement." She leaned away from me abruptly to greet a group of noblewomen who approached us, and I suffered their introductions and roving eyes, oddly comforted to have such a friend as to champion me from even myself.

I trusted her. If she’d protect me from myself, then she’d protect me from anybody, and if she said that her father returned my feelings but was just as constipated about showing them, then I believed her. If she thought it was a good idea for me to pursue him, then as far as I was concerned, it was. Idril had had my complete trust from the day she allowed me to seek her out as a friend instead of the opposite. Idril was wise. I was in awe of her.

"Well, hello then." The soft voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of my elbow, and looking down I saw it belonged to a slight maiden with a long train of golden waves. I looked at Idril nervously, for she was still attached to my arm but not paying much attention to me. "Hello." I managed to work out in a fairly normal voice. People who were able to sneak up on me were not high on my list of favorite things.

"I’m Adeline of the House of the Second Star. And you are?" She asked smoothly, her turquoise eyes roving my body.
"Glorfindel. Just Glorfindel." I told her.
"Oh. Well Glorfindel, are you the Lady Idril’s catamite? I wasn’t aware that she had taken one." There was insult in that, a barb at Idril’s purity and I noted it and held my tongue. "No, my good lady, I’m afraid I’m simply a guest of the King’s house."
"Ah." She replied, and began doing odd things with her tongue inside her mouth. I looked away, uncomfortable.

Idril eventually came around and rescued me from the overbearing presence of Adeline and a few of her companions. As she steered me into the massive formal dining hall for the feast, she whispered slyly "Don’t heed them. The House of the Second Star is full of pretty faces and empty minds." I took comfort in that, and led her to her seat.

I glanced over to see that Ecthelion was showing an avid interest in a particular young woman, and when he saw me looking at them he smiled and winked, before resuming his polite fawning at her feet. Turgon seemed distant again, as he had been lately. I worried for him. He didn’t look at me. I sent Idril a despairing look and she merely smiled enigmatically and resumed eating.

After the meal there was more socialization and dancing, which I stubbornly refused to join, by was pawed over anyway by the likes of Adeline and those of similar mind. Disgusted, I fled while Idril was claimed for a dance, having had enough of this ‘nobility’.

I was halfway up the main staircase when a hand on my upper arm brought me up short. I whirled with a glare that should have sent the person running. Turgon neither ran nor released my arm. "Glorfindel, where are you going?" He asked me. "Away." Was my surly reply.
"Why?"
"Them. They’re not nobility, they have hardly the restraint of animals." I fumed.
"Do not insult my guests." His tone was warning, but I could see by his eyes that he was amused. My mood softened. He laid his hand about my shoulders and I allowed the contact. "Come, or I fear you’ll disappoint all the young maidens, especially Adeline." He told me softly, conspiratorially.

"What a shame." I huffed. "Come now, she could give you one night of passion, if nothing else. I think it would do you good. You have become entirely too stodgy lately for my tastes." The nerve of him. I ripped loose of his hold. "I want nothing to do with that woman or any other. I see no point in raising their hopes for something they shall never have. Do you want to know the truth of it?" I asked angrily.
"Yes Glorfindel, I want the truth." His voice was intense.
"No you don’t." I said, and fled up the stairs, angry with the spectators gathered in the main room, watching the action on the stair.

He gave chase and slammed me into the wall just around the corner, out of sight in the shadows and pinned me there bodily. "Yes I do. I will have the truth from you, even if I have to beat it out of you." He threatened, voice blowing warm on me, his body tucked close. I leaned into him. "The truth is that I don’t want them. Any of them. I never did. There was only one I ever wanted, from the day he first flew overhead on an eagle’s wings, even in the years when I waited him to come every single day, the hope that he would fly over again all I lived for. When he asked me to come with him, I did, and now that I’m here with him I cant figure out if he’s angry with me or afraid, and I’m starting to think it’s more the latter. Now, I dare you to tell me the truth." I told him defiantly, and an unreadable expression came into his eyes.

"You don’t want me Glorfindel. You, who are beautiful and young and strong and so very, very innocent, how could you possibly ever want me? I have a daughter older than you. I’m the king of a realm I built in the mountains. I’m a coward, Glorfindel, hiding away here, and you want me? I sincerely doubt you know what you’re asking for." I caught his face between my hands. "I know what I want Turgon, and nothing shall ever stop me from it."

"Tell me, tell me what you want." He rasped, eyes searching mine desperately.
"You. You forever, for as long as I live. I give you my heart and my body, for I owe them all to you already." I told him, my lips hovering over his, my eyes searching the depths of his changeable, wondrous eyes. He pulled his arms around me, held me close. "As I want you, Glorfindel. But I fear, I fear for you, I fear that this will cost you your heart and body, this ridiculous pursuit of such a man as me." He warned, and then bent his head and touched his lips to mine, warm and soft. He pulled back, and looked at me. We held one another at arm’s length a long moment, regarding one another, and then he whispered "This will be highly unseemly of me, but I find I cannot resist taking you off to my bed, right now, this very instant." I laughed at him, even as he took my hand and dragged me off to his room with shared joy in our hearts.

Chapter Eight:

He took me to his bed and lay me down, lying full length atop me, his weight pressing on my ribs and hips pleasantly. I relaxed under him, and wrapped my arms about his waist, kneading the long lean muscles in his back, spreading my legs and letting his settle between them. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do, Idril’s descriptions were pleasantly brief and I was in no mood to think of the sheer horror involved with her course of education.

I wanted to kiss him again, the last one had been nice, and so I leaned up and did so. His hands stroked my face and neck and I kissed him gently, opening my mouth and daring to lick his lips. He opened for me, and I was surprised but plunged ahead, more curious than afraid. His mouth was warm and wet, tasting faintly of wine and dinner and something else, something as unique and soothing as his smell, as his body. I liked it. I wanted some more.

I kissed his upper lip, licked along it, all down his mouth and jaws, inching my way toward his ears as he did the same to whatever I gave him to reach. I worked my way down the thick strong cords of his neck when I came to his shirt collar, I nipped him and pushed it aside to taste the warm skin of his collarbones. He moaned above me and moved off, kneeling between my legs and pulling his robes off over his head. I watched in fascination as he began to fumble with the buttons.

Well, I wanted to see. He’d have to get another shirt. I sat up and grabbed hold of the lapels, ripping it off with a satisfying noise. I gave it another jerk and it parted all the way down the front. I ran my hands over his chest, playing with his nipples, surprised by the sounds he made when I did. I jerked off my robes and shirt, him helping, and tried my own, continuing to play with his. It didn’t work until he reached for me and did it, then my skin grew hot and hungry under his touch, as if what wasn’t being touched was jealous of what was.

I became suddenly aware that I was very hard. I reached down and checked to see if he was. He was hot in my hand through the fabric of his pants, thick and heavy like my own. I caressed him idly and he moaned. I replied in kind without thinking, and his hands slid off my bare chest to my aching member. I threw his shirt off him with my free hand, and then began work on his pants, tearing some of the fastenings. I wanted it, and I wanted it now. Time for slow and easy later.

He likewise made haste in removing mine, and when they were down and his hands were on me, I cried out loudly. Then it was his turn to yell as my hands found the hard, sleek upward curve of his erection. I looked at it in awe for a moment, and then began caressing his thighs with one hand, still holding my prize. He got the message and began rubbing my belly, reluctant to let me go to pull his pants off. We let go at the same time and jerked them off quickly, then returned to the bed and lay side by side. I reached for him again, cupping his balls in one hand and heat in the other. So much like my own, so very different. I loved him already, and it was natural that I decided that I liked this very much.

I began to pull in gliding strokes the same way I always had my own, and got the favor returned. With a soft gasp, I did to him my favorite tricks, and he did to me his. I learned that he liked it a little rough, and that he liked to be squeezed tight. I could have come just from him looking at me, but this was a much better way to do it. We both were ready and our mouths met as our hands sped up, until we were thrusting and bumping our knuckles together. I came in his hand, my shout lost as his brilliant tongue tangled with mine in the heat of our shared mouth.

He came next, sticky heat splashing my hand. He moaned long and loud into my mouth and I couldn’t resist the urge to laugh satedly. He smiled tiredly at me, and massaged my softening member with what was in his hand, rubbing my belly. I rubbed his thighs, feeling comforted. At last, I thought, at last.

I curled against his body to rest, lying awake in his scent and warmth that had suddenly taken new meaning. He held me close, and I rubbed his thighs and buttocks in slow circles until I fell asleep, my hand slack on his hip, sticky and comfortable.

Chapter Nine:

I woke to his eyes. I smiled. "Hello."
He smiled back tenderly. "Hi."
"It’s not morning, is it?"
"No."
"Oh."

I readjusted myself in his arms, and then looked at him again. "I want to do that again. It was wonderful."
"Me too. Want to try something more this time?"
I was awed. "There’s more than that?"
He laughed. "Of course, Glorfindel. Didn’t Idril explain it to you?"
"Umm...no, not really." I didn’t want to think about what she had taught me.
"May I touch you where I want for a moment?"
I shrugged. My body was all his, for him alone.

I felt his hand on my thigh shift to my buttocks. He watched my eyes carefully as he reached between them. I felt his fingertip come to rest on the opening there. "I would go inside you...there." He whispered softly, breath wafting sweetly over my skin. I thought about that for a moment.

"It would hurt a bit, I think. If it will fit, then let's try it." I suggested at last.
"It will hurt, but only a little. I’ll make good for you, I promise. There’s a place inside that feels wonderful when it is touched."
I was intrigued. "Really?"

"Yes. May I show you?" He was very sweet, asking me constantly. Ever curious, I agreed. He reached over to the bedside table and handed me a small bottle of oil. I looked at it a moment, then at him, questioning. "Oil. To make it easier." He explained. I gave it back to him, looking at him solemnly."I’ll never knowingly hurt you, Glorfindel, I swear it. Tell me if do?" He said, laying his palm against my jaw. I kissed his hand. "I trust you.' I replied, heartfelt. He looked as if he would cry for a moment, and kissed me gently, fiercely.

His finger left my cleft for a moment and when it returned it was slick and wet. He pressed gently, which didn’t feel too bad, or entirely exciting, just...different. His fingertip slipped inside and his eyes sought mine, brows furrowed. "Okay?" he asked. I nodded, focusing on the feel of him and the slight burn of the foreign object. He pressed deeper, and his finger stroked for a moment, questing. I sighed and became rock hard in an instant when his finger brushed over something absolutely incredible. "Nice. Oh yes, very good." I mumbled when I could speak again.

He chuckled and kissed me, stroking the spot and my cock simultaneously again. I whimpered, not wanting to leave him hard after I was spent. He got the message and stopped caressing me, withdrawing his finger. "I would like to be in you, but I’m not sure we’re ready for that. M’not sure you are." He said, kissing me. I leaned into the kiss. "I can do it. I wont stop loving you just because we do or don’t do this. It’s up to you."
He looked at me a long time, and I realized he was weighing himself, not me. "You do understand that once we do this that we are bound, in the common laws of marriage?"
"Yes. I know this. I am not afraid to bind to you. I do it willingly and knowingly."
He sighed heavily. "You honor me too much, nin ind. I accept."

I smiled sadly at him, touched, and reached up to caress his face with my hands. He answered by stroking my face, and I could feel his fear, he was so very, very afraid. I held him close a moment, his head on my chest, just holding him and loving him. And then I pulled his face up for a kiss. It was time, at last, to seal our hearts and make us one. A matched set. Two of a kind. A whole being.

I was the strong one that night, leading him. Shaking as he was, he met me halfway, and I met him wholeheartedly. He stretched me gently, taking his time, and I oiled the hard shaft that would so soon be inside me, kissing the tip close mouthed, lovingly. It was a gesture of acceptance and approval for everything involved in this deed.

We looked into one another’s eyes as he slid inside, the gray depths swallowing me up even as he filled me to overflowing. I knew it was right then, with him hilted in me, and although it hurt a little, I gave him the kiss that gave him power to seek his release. Gripping my hips and plunging hard and fast into the spot that felt like lightning now, he grunted and thrust, seeking his release without leaving my eyes.

I could feel when he was close, twitching and swelling, pounding relentlessly as he took my erection into his palm. We cried out together, and I felt warmth in me and on me, and then his weight was on my chest, his hair over my face and I fought to breathe, inhaling the scent of his hair with every breath.

When I could breathe and think again, slick with sweat, he lifted his head from my chest and looked at me. I smiled and said, "You have a cleft in your chin. I never noticed that before." Amusement lit up his eyes and he kissed me, sliding free of my body below. When our kiss broke, he laid his face along mine as he shifted to lay full length beside me, rolling over my left thigh to do so. I curled into his arms and kissed his neck, cuddling my body into my favorite place in Arda to sleep; his arms.

Chapter Ten:

Morning dawned bright and hot. I opened my eyes to sunshine on Turgon, a rather pleasant view. It highlighted the smooth contours of his arms and legs and flanks, curling around his navel and gracing his member with the lightest of kisses. His cheekbones were brightened, lashes shining white instead of silvery black. I stretched to let the sun claim more of my bare skin and kissed his lips lightly.

I lay simply looking at him for an hour before he woke. He kissed my neck, yawned and stretched, then returned his gaze to my eyes. "How do you feel?" he asked. I assessed myself. I was a bit sore, generally sleepy, warm and comfortable. "Good. Very good." I told him truthfully. He grinned, never a more mischievous sight. "Feel up to taking me this time?" he offered. I kissed him, and sat up. "Perhaps after I return." He looked at me curiously and I sighed exasperatedly at him. His face lit up in understanding a moment later when the demands of his bladder caught up with him as well, and he shot out of bed and fairly raced me to the bathroom. It wasn’t a problem to share, but it was very distracting and I finally gave up and slapped him on the shoulder to make him quit teasing me. I headed for the bedroom, swaggering my bare rear extra for his benefit, calling seductively "Come on, that’s enough."

He chased me into the bed and tackled me in the sheets.
We wrestled for a while, wrecking the bed even more, and then things grew serious, as kissing became sensual licks and nips. I learned about nipples, what incredible things they were, and that I could almost make Turgon come from playing with them alone.

Almost. He was very determined that I should spend my seed in him. I saw no reason not to oblige. His opening wasn’t as tight as mine, despite being similar in structure and purpose, and it stretched more quickly and needed less oil. He knelt on his hands and knees while I entered him. I pressed just inside and paused for him to adjust, drawing on my memories of last night. He surprised me entirely by pushing back so that suddenly there was no resistance and I slid home in one stroke. I shouted in bliss and worry and lust, and he moaned reassuringly in heady arousal.

I pulled back and began to stroke, my body adapting automatically to desire. He pushed back in encouragement, and ground out the words "Harder. Faster." in a breathless, throaty voice. I had no arguments and when I reached under him to be sure he reached his peak as well, my hand merely joined his. I came first, throwing my head back, my voice long gone from my conscious control by that point, rutting helplessly and grinding into him as he came, pushing his hips forward in the throes of climax and tightening on me nearly unbearably.

His knees and arms buckled beneath him and I stayed atop him, laying full length over his back, still inside his heat and sighed, licking his shoulder satedly before nuzzling into the nape of his neck and drifting into sleep.

When I woke, it was midafternoon and the heat of sunlight on the mounded blankets over me was slowly baking me alive. I was tempted to kick them off and sleep all day, but if Turgon was up and going about his kingly duties after all that, then the least I could do was go to the library and read for what was left of the day.

I got up and sighed at the heaviness in my limbs. I was tired...from sleeping. I bathed and dressed, brushing out the tangles in my long hair and glaring at my smug-looking self in the mirror. He looked arrogant and pleased, bearing an ‘I’ve just fucked the king’ look. I could have sworn he stuck his tongue out at me when I turned away. As a parting shot, I threw the hairbrush at him as I went out the door.

Despite feeling tired enough to sleep a few more hours, I hummed a cheery tune on my way to the library. Pausing at Turgon’s closed study door where he was undoubtedly busy, I decided to go see Idril, tell her the good news.

Breakfast first, my stomach reminded me. I went downstairs and not only wheedled a cook into feeding me, but had to sneak out to leave the massive platter unfinished, lest she tie me to the chair and force-feed me. I went back upstairs and head for Idril’s rooms.

She’d be thrilled, of course, and Ecthelion would likely give me one of his mysterious amused smiles when he found out. She was there, the door to her sitting room open. I walked inside to see her seated on the vanity in her bedroom, having her hair done by a maidservant.

"You people eat too much, too often." I complained, flopping onto Idril’s bed, taking liberties as I pleased, at ease with my closest friend. "You’ll make me fat!" I complained, eyeing my stomach.

She laughed airily and sailed over, the maiden braiding her hair following behind. Poking me in the stomach she teased "Somehow I doubt that you could ever be fat, Glorfindel. You just need to go horseback riding more often." I fell off the bed and sprawled on the floor in mock horror. "Oh no! Not the horses! Please!" she aimed a kick at me and I caught her ankle amid the flying skirts.

"Oh look, what is this?" I asked, inching my fingers up her ankle and calf, tickling mercilessly. "Why, I believe it's a celebrindal!" She laughed at me and thrust said foot in my face. "Kiss it and I’ll forgive you." she demanded, sounding very much like an older sister. I obliged and she fell across her bed in a mock faint, the servant girl giving up and letting the long hair fall. "Oh my! Such an achievement I have made today girls! I’ve gotten a kiss from the hot blonde one, and it was ever so romantic!" she fluttered her eyelashes in mockery of the girls who practically threw themselves at me.

I looked at her a moment, silent, and then we both burst into laughter. The exasperated handmaiden stomped off to wait by Idril’s dressing table, scolding "That boy is a bad influence on you my Lady, if I may say so." Idril laughed harder, and pointed at me. I rolled to my knees and stood, sauntering out all the while swinging my rear exaggeratedly at her as I walked out...and froze in the doorway.

For there stood Turgon, a silly smirk on his face that plainly said 'if you’re not on or near our bed in one minute, I’ll fuck you where you stand'. With a sheepish grin, I ran past him and he followed me much more dignifiedly to the bedroom.

Another wild round left us panting, sprawled atop the mussed covers of the unmade bed, laughing even as the sweat of passion dried on our skin. It was a happy time, that first day of seventy years of blissful paradise with him, and we laughed. Together. 

Chapter One:

Turgon and I talked of many things during our years together. We talked of his brother, of his past, of his childhood. We spoke of his wife, Elenwe, who perished during the crossing of Helecaraxe after the Kinslaying in Aqualonde, of his daughter as a child. But there was always a sorrow in his heart I couldn’t reach, a sadness closely related to me that he would not allow me to know. For a very long time, I did not press him, and he did not tell me of his sister and her unknown fate. When he did, I knew the name of that certain sorrow, and it was Aredhel; inexplicably tied to me.

Over the years we gradually came to the point where we spoke of children, heirs to his throne. I released him to wed another and sire a son in a woman’s arms with my blessing and forgiveness, but he refused my offer graciously by denying all those who sought to court and woo him.

I was somewhat upset that these noblewomen would offer their lives to a man already bound to me, for we did not attempt to hide it and everyone that looked into our eyes, either his or mine, knew the truth of the matter.

When we were together fifteen years, Turgon named Ecthelion a nobleman, and Ecthelion called himself simply Ecthelion of the Fountain, taking the honor as humbly as ever. I knew that Turgon hoped he would marry and have a son that he could name as regent and heir, but alas, Ecthelion did not wed, and my king never said anything to him of it.

When we were together thirty years, he called for one of the sons of Thorondor. Riding with him behind me, the wind blowing my hair back onto him, I was reminded of when he had brought me to the White City, to Ondolinde, to Gondolin. I recognized my valley at once and we alighted near the stream I had never named.

We spent the entire afternoon there, and I showed him my old haunts. The mallorn where I had hidden after the first time he came, my winter home in the old oak, the thicket where I slept in summer, my cave that was now long empty, and the place where I had battled the wargs.

We laid in the grass for a time, my head on his chest while his hands idly plucked through my golden mane. "I sometimes think there might be Vanyar in you, Glorfindel." He commented. I nodded, gazing at a bit of cloud floating through the blue sky beyond the shady boughs of the trees we lay under. What could I say? I didn’t know. I leaned on my lover and tried to find the loneliness that had been my companion here. It was gone, all of it, not even an echo remained. Turgon’s love shielded my heart from it like Echoriath spared Gondolin the bitter winds of winter.

But the trouble still remained, that we had no heir for the Hidden Kingdom, and that I could not give my love one. My love desired an heir, but I was enough for him that he did not want to until he was able to do so in love. Neither of us would sentence a woman to come between us, be party to our love affair for the sake of a child. So we did not.

I rose after the heat of the day had passed and he woke and looked up at me from the ground. He was beautiful laying there, like a suckling fawn in the grass. I pushed my hair back from my face, feeling sticky with sweat all over. "I’m going to have a wash. Care to go with me?" I offered. It was far too hot to lay in the shade any longer. He joined me, and we stripped and laid our clothes in a hollow tree I had used before to store winter caches of food like a squirrel.

Then we went into the water, I led him as he tiptoed cautiously into the semi-warm waters. I laughed at him. He looked at me, pausing in one of his mincing, dainty steps. I mimicked him, pretending to hold up skirts and repeating his delicate bottom-waggling motions. He blushed when he realized he’d been doing that and splashed water at me in recompense. I glared for a moment, my hair wet and sticking to my back and arms. Then I pointed my finger at him and waggled it in warning, trying to think of some way to pay him back for that.

He began backing out of the stream. "You wouldn’t dare assault your king, now would you?" I arched a brow at his pulling of rank. "You seem to be a bit short on guards, sire." I noted, stalking him menacingly, a clump of river mud hidden in my hand. He tripped over something unseen and fell spluttering. I was there when he stood up and nailed him with the mud ball. He gaped and blinked at me a moment, and then got the mischievous grin I hadn’t seen in a while.

That was my only warning before he dove at me, wrestling me underwater. We rolled around and fought like that for a while, until our skin began to burn from the sun. I called it quits and let him dunk me and rub my face in sand cupped in his hand, then rinsed off and got out, leading him upriver.

I brought him to the waterfall just below the spring, a slowly pounding gust of water that fell from an outcropping of boulders that made up the riverbed. The water crested over the rocks into a deep pool here, and it was always cold in summer. Hot from the walk upstream, I took a running leap from the bank and dove in with a shout. Turgon shrugged and followed suit, but the instant he plunged into the deep water he went rigid and when he surfaced he was shouting, and not from sheer joy on this lovely day, but because the water was cold.

Unfortunately, he was shouting at me, blaming me for not warning him how cold it was. Despite being shrunken in a few places he was okay, so I just arched my brows at his teasing tone and let him work off the first shock of the chill by yelling at me. When he finally shut up, I swam over and kissed him, then went and climbed up on the rocks to let the water pour down over me. The sun was warm, the water was cool and I was in bliss having it pour over my face and heat and body in slick clear streams. I sang in happiness, the sound echoing eerily off the rocks and water as if we were in a great stone hall.

My song was tuneless and wordless, made up on the spur of the moment in joy for the lush summer day. My voice followed the heat of the sun, the twining of the water, and the beauty of the light playing on Turgon’s bare chest and his face, tilted to one side in deep thought. It meant nothing, other than to sound pretty and fill the air. I sighed and leaned into the flow of water. Turgon joined me a moment later on the rock, and I couldn’t possibly sing anymore, at least not with his tongue in my mouth.

Chapter Two:

That day at my valley changed something between us, and I saw him looking at me more thoughtfully now and then. I stopped smiling when I saw him doing that, and peered silently into his eyes, trying to read the emotions there. He always turned away.

At the next Gates of Summer celebration, he stood at the table and cleared his throat to announce his wish to speak. Everyone looked at him expectantly. He looked at me briefly; the odd look in his eyes again, and then turned away and began to speak. I glanced at Ecthelion, but he didn’t appear to know anything about this.

"I would like to announce that I hereby bestow nobility upon Glorfindel." He gestured to me, and everyone applauded politely. "Glorfindel, what name will you choose for your House?" He asked me.

"I would bestow that honor upon you, my king." I replied, not knowing what I would name a noble house. He smiled briefly, and looked as if he would like to touch my cheek, but refrained. "I name you Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower." He stated formally to more applause.

I knelt and kissed his ring, making sure my lips touched the skin surrounding it. I loved this man with all my heart. I sat down after bowing to him and being sure that he sat first. I looked at him sadly during the meal, for I knew that by this he meant not to take me as consort or keep me as his lover in his house, but that this was political. He wished me to marry and father an heir to the House of the Golden Flower, that the child would become regent and king in time. He wanted me to do what he could not, would not. He was giving up pretending that one day he would marry a woman.

I was sorrowed by this, not only because it meant I now had a duty that I must refuse, but that it also meant he loved me to a fault. To his undoing, even unto his own ruin. I lost my appetite and Idril imperceptibly took my hand under the table, offering comfort. Elfling I was no more, and yet sadness could still find me. Yet, there was hope. There was always hope. Idril was our hope, and she knew it as well as I.

After that night I did build and set up my own noble house, and Turgon came and lived with me there as often as I went in by night to share his bed. I took no wife, and Turgon said not a word to me of it, yet I knew that something was wrong for him to be so very distant. And I didn’t want to lose him.

One day, I went to his palace, walked inside and opened the closed study doors, seating myself on his desk atop his papers so that he had to look at me and confront me. He looked up at me calmly. "We need to talk." I said.
"Talk." He replied.
"Children." I said. He winced at the word. "Heirs." I continued, getting another wince. "I will not take a wife, you will not take a wife, Ecthelion wishes to take no wife, and Idril has no husband. What is to be done?"
"You will take a wife."
"Will I?"
"You deserve to be a father, have proud sons to bear up your name. You should live on forever in your children. I command you as your king, as your lover, as whatever I am to you, to take a wife."
"On the authority given me by being your lover, your mate, your equal, I refuse."
"How dare you?"
"How could I dare do it, if you could not? You are no coward Turgon, to send men into battle ahead of you as shields, so why do you play the coward now?"
"What are you saying?"
"I love you, and I want you. Only you. Forever. Or have you forgotten what we said fifty years ago? I’ll gladly remind you, for my memory is yet true."
"Glorfindel, do not argue with me, or I’ll have you put in the prison for treason."
"Coward!" I snapped.
He stood and loomed over me. I met his eyes for a long moment. Then he turned away and walked out of the room.

I followed his retreating back; tempted to kick him so hard his feet would leave the ground. He stopped suddenly, whirled and was right in my face. He shouted, "As your king I command you to marry Idril Celebrindal and you SHALL do so or I’ll have you put in chains!" I didn’t even flinch, meeting his eyes coolly, our noses nearly touching. "Is that all our love means anymore? That I should wed your daughter so you might have the perfect king spawn? Is that all I mean to you? And her, would you make your daughter marry a man she has only affection for as a brother and friend? You are a coward, Turgon, to breed us like horses." I whispered.

He blinked once and as if out of nowhere his open hand caught me across the cheek with enough force to knock me onto the hallway floor, landing on my right side. I did not fight him in the least, and once down I lay there, devastated. "I am no coward." He said in a low voice, and ran away down the hall, away from me.

I lay there.
I had no reason to get up, and so I lay where I had fallen, just as I landed, my body unheeded entirely. All I could see was my hair over my face and all I could hear was the wind blowing emptily through my hollow soul.

He returned after a few hours, and I could tell it had grown dark outside the comforting curtain of my hair. His boots shuffled near my face. I waited. "Glorfindel, get up." He commanded. Not the words I wanted to hear. I decided to be stubborn. I just lay there. "Glorfindel." His tone carried a hint of anger and my name was drawn out in warning. No response from me. He moved off.

I stayed where I was. I couldn’t understand him all of a sudden. What had I done to deserve this? I was angry, understandably so, but I tried my hardest to see things from his point of view. I got nothing. Long hours passed and I still did not move. My patience won out over my anger, which demanded I get up and claim Idril as my wife, as her father’s gift to me and make him jealous and hurt him as he’d hurt me. I did not. I could not. I loved him. I would love him forever. It was a sacred thing, not to be defiled.

He came again in the morning, and I knew it was morning because of the stiffness in my body and the light filtering through my hair. "Glorfindel." He said again, sounding tired and...sad? I held my peace. "I’m sorry Glorfindel." He said after a moment. It was still not what I wanted to hear. I had a feeling that if I waited long enough he would open up and talk to me, tell me why he’d said all that. Another long silence, and he walked over to the study door and spoke again, angry now. "I want you gone from there by the time I leave this study. I never want to see you in my house again." The words cut deeply. I closed my eyes under my veil of hair. The study door slammed shut.

I lay there a long time, considering.
At length I rose to my shins and elbows and pushed myself up from the floor and walked numbly to his rooms. I paused in the doorway. Where to place myself? The bed we had so long shared? The floor by the fireplace where we sat together long hours? I settled myself in the doorway, sitting with my legs stretched across the threshold. He wouldn’t be able to miss me, or close the door, and he would have plenty opportunity to ‘accidentally’ kick me if he so pleased.

I waited.
He came along at dusk; shoulders slumped, and froze when he saw me in the doorway. Then his face cleared of all expression and he stopped right in front of my legs. "Move." He said, in a dark version of the tone one would use with a servant or a disrespectful child. I remained where I was, gazing beyond him at some invisible point. He drew his sword, and I felt the tip touch my neck under the curve of my jaw, in his favorite place to kiss. Would he? I wondered. There was no telling.
"Move." He said again. The blade pressed inward, the curved tip piercing my skin. The blade in the cut staved off what little blood there might have been, for the moment. It didn’t hurt much.

I became aware his hand was shaking. I moved, drawing my legs up to my chest. The blade retreated, and he sheathed it as he walked past me. He closed the door, sliding me out of the way with it. I sat myself against the wall to the immediate right of the door. Blood ran down my neck and pooled in the hollow above my collarbone. I didn’t bother to wipe it away. Or the tear that followed, sliding down my left cheek and disappearing into the neck of my tunic.

Another night had passed in silence before I heard the door open. I did not move, even to look at him. He sat beside me, leaned forward and looked into my eyes. I looked back. He looked haggard and worn, as if he’d gotten no sleep. Then he spoke.

"You don’t want me, Glorfindel. I’m such a cowardly old fool, to have trapped and seduced a beautiful young man like you. I should never have forc-" At that point I didn’t want to hear anymore of his self-loathing lies and so I slapped him.

He looked at me, emotions swirling in his silvery gray eyes. I met his gaze evenly. Blow for blow, it had been. And this, revealed at last, was the root of the problem. "I knew what I was doing when I chose you, Turgon. Just because I didn’t sleep with any others before you doesn’t mean I was innocent. Unknowing, perhaps, but you’re all I wanted and still want. I chose you, and I love you, you cowardly old fool. Do you honestly think you could have forced me?"

He looked me over sullenly. "No."
"Good. Then I never want to hear bullshit like that again." I kissed him then, right on the handprint on his cheek, still warm from the blow.

He caught my face and turned my lips to his, and we kissed again almost as if it were the first time again. Almost. I knew all the ways to turn him to a writhing mad thing, and he knew mine. Idril was right. We deserved each other. As he carried me to our bed, I honestly didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

Chapter Three:

That night as we lay in the tangles of passion-twisted blankets, limbs intertwined, my head on his chest and his hands in my hair, he told me of his sister Aredhel, who was forever lost to him.
"It was two hundred years after Ondolinde was finished, when she so greatly desired to leave my city, tiring of life here, that she came to me." He rumbled quietly under my ear. I stroked his ribs comfortingly, listening.

"I did not want her to leave, and I put it off for a very long time. After awhile I let her go, saying ‘Go then, if you will, though it is against my wisdom, and I forebode ill will come of it both to you and to me.’ For I had a very bad feeling about it, that I now know to be justified.

I released her, saying ‘But you shall only go to seek Fingon, our brother; and those that I send with you shall return hither to Gondolin as swiftly as they may.’ Thinking that she should be safe in my brother’s house, and that haste should bind the tongues of those accompanying her rather well, that they should keep my city secret."

He paused here, composing his thoughts or consulting memory, and I trailed my fingers in soothing circles over the flat hard plain of his belly. He began again, a trace of sadness in his voice.

"Aredhel was always difficult with me, I think she did it to be sure I had her attention. She said then ‘I am your sister and not your servant, and beyond your bounds I will go as seems good to me. And if you begrudge me an escort, then I will go alone.’ Which meant to me that she was not only being stubborn, but that she didn’t understand the last part of what I had said. I replied ‘I grudge you nothing that I have. Yet I desire that none shall dwell beyond my walls who know the way hither; and if I trust you, my sister, others I trust les to keep guard on their tongues.’ And then I sent her with three lords of my house, and Ecthelion with them.

I told them to take her to Fingon in Hithlum, if they could. And I warned them be on their guard, for there were many evils still abroad in this land of which she did not know. And then she left, and I was angry with myself for having let her leave. I knew I shouldn’t have let her go, and I did it anyway."

Turgon broke off at this point, vainly attempting to stifle tears for my sake. I crawled higher into his arms and kissed his quivering lips, then held his head to my chest and rocked him gently, waiting for him to calm and go on. Several of his tears skittered over and dried slowly on my bare skin before he was once again able to speak.

"And at the Ford of Brithiach in the River Sirion she changed her course, heading not north to Hithlum, but rather south to find her old friends, the sons of Feanor. Such foolishness! I should not have let her go, Glorfindel, I should not have."

I held him close at this point, and stroked his hair until he relaxed and went on.

"They went to Doriath, but Thingol’s march-wardens denied them access, as Thingol will allow no Noldor into Doriath but save his kin of the house of Finarfin, and certainly not those friends with the sons of Feanor. They told her the way to go around to seek out where Celegorm and Curufin dwelt in those days, and though the road was dangerous, my stubborn sister went.

They went through the haunted valleys of Ered Gorgoroth and around the north borders of Doriath, and as they rode near Nan Dungortheb shadows like night fell upon them, and Aredhel strayed from her escort and was lost."

He stopped suddenly and I felt fresh tears on my chest. I rubbed his back and kissed his hair drowsily, fearing that I should sleep through the tale of my mate’s sorrow I pinched my forearm repeatedly to overcome the tiredness I felt. As ever, Turgon persevered, and in a tear-roughened voice began anew.

"They searched for her, but never found her or evidence she had met with an evil fate. The creatures of Ungoliant that dwelt in the ravines were wakened by their presence, and attacked them, and they barely escaped with their lives.

When they returned and told us the tale, my city wept as I sat alone in the garden tended by her hand, angry with myself, angry with her, and sorrowed above all.

It was then that I decided I would go to you, try to find you. As soon as the seasons allowed, I called for one of the great eagles of Manwe to see fit to bring me to you one last time. My request was granted, and when I came to your valley I heard you screaming, and I wept because you were in so much pain and because you were still alive. I was both sorrowed that you endured and hopeful and selfishly glad that you yet lived."

He broke into sobs now, weeping against my chest and I cradled him close, remembering something of that time’s agony. He pulled away suddenly and took my face in my hands, looking deep into my eyes as he spoke.

"You were dying Glorfindel, dying of grief and loneliness, one of the most painful ways for elves to die. You were such a bright strong flame, even when you were dimmed and cooled by the frost of death’s breath, you still burned. I wanted that fire, I wanted you. You touched me, and let me touch you, and when you laughed under me with tears in your eyes I lost my heart to you. I loved you then, and I love you now, and I pray to the Valar that I always will."

I was weeping now, our tears mingled as I had pressed my cheek against his, holding him so tight it seemed as if we would meld together into the being we had already become, his thumb traced over the cut on my neck, and he bent and kissed the wound he had inflicted, and suddenly an heir didn’t matter anymore.

For a moment, it just didn’t matter.

Chapter Four:

Approximately 20 Years Later:

I woke to a soft wuffling noise at my ear. I looked over at Turgon, surely he wasn’t...he was sniffing me! On purpose, to wake me up, I noticed. I looked at him in wonder and a bit of horror. It was quite unlike him to wake me, and snuffling?

Grinning at my confusion, he leant over and kissed me between the eyes. I forgot all about the odd wake-up for a moment and stretched up to kiss him back. Our mouths met and I relished his flavor and the tongue that batted insistently at mine. I knew his mouth almost as well as I knew my own, by feel, and by taste. Nevertheless I took my time, teasing him until his tongue went from begging and needy to demanding and insistent.

I pulled back. He glared. "Saucy tease." He mumbled, looking over at the window to judge the time. I reached down and cupped his heavy hardness with my palm. I stroked the pleasant weight of it and received a cuff on the bottom. His hand met my half-hard member and I quickly swelled until his ministrations. "Not fair." I ground out.
"Why’s that?" He enquired.
"It likes you." I teased.
"So I see. Does it do tricks?"
"Oh yes, lots. But there’s one...or two...ah...it really wants to do...oh...now."
"Hmmmm..."He rumbled ominously.

One of his hands left my aching erection and returned slick, sliding over my skin. "No." I protested. I was usually the one inside him, and I’d taken plenty of turns with him inside me, but I really wanted to ride him this morning. He just grunted, unrelenting. I captured the bottle and rubbed it on him, replacing the stopper. Then the battle was on.

We rolled around, wrestling one another into position and playfully restraining each other during careful preparations, and he managed me into a position above him with his legs around my waist and jerked with his calves. I swerved neatly, shying away and sliding myself into position where his legs would be useless. Outmaneuvered and nearly too far gone, he relented and I sank down on him until our skin met with matching moans of appreciation.

"Why’d...you wake me...like that?" I demanded breathily.
"Oh...ah...had wanted to...invite you to...ah!...open court...today." He managed to reply between thrusts.
I arched a brow and tried to look as dignified as I could while bouncing atop another man. "I...would like to go...oh yes, there." I replied, partly talking to myself and partly to him. Well, perhaps I was talking to him on both accounts. I wasn’t quite sure, being rather preoccupied at the moment.

After we gave up trying to talk and he began to stroke me off, we both finished pretty quickly, calling out and answering one another with inarticulate cries. I fell forward onto his chest, my hair sticky and clinging to us both, and tried to remember what we were talking about.

Oh yes. Open Court. He’d wanted me to go, probably as an advisor. Not an unusual request, the chieftains of the noble houses were all welcome to attend. Open Court was a day, sometimes two days, set aside every year for the people to come to their king with their issues that required addressing. Decisions were made by the king, and the nobles offered suggestions as a committee. I hadn’t much cared to go in years past; as I was usually off sparring or practicing weaponry or out making myself ride horses with Ecthelion.

When I could breathe again, I answered. "Yes, I’d like to go to Open Court. What an interesting way to propose the notion, let alone convince me. Do you do this with all the chieftains of the noble houses?" I asked innocently, teasing him mercilessly so shortly after a phenomenal climax.

He laughed. "Certainly not, although with this method I believe none of them would refuse if they only knew of my prowess."
I pinched his arm. "Prowess indeed. You’re full of yourself Turgon."
"Oh, but I’d much rather be full of you." He bantered, and I leaned down and bit him.
"Orc!" He shrieked, pushing me away and protecting his tender nipples. I grinned wickedly.

Five minutes later he ran in fear of his virtue to the baths, and I chased him into the tub, where he quickly and enjoyably lost the fight, just as he’d done with every battle ever fought with me.

****

That afternoon I found myself sweltering under my best robes, seated between a very formidable looking nobleman and a young one who was openly flirting with a maiden across the room in the guest chairs.

Turgon was listening patiently, showing none of the boredom I felt; as a man and his wife explained a feud between their family and their neighbors’ over land boundaries and the disputing families insulted one another half-disguisedly.

They were farmers down in the valley below the city, and it was their harvests that kept Gondolin fed, these citizens. They were extremely territorial about their crops and lands, competing for best produce, but the competition had been carried too far. In my opinion, anyway.

Turgon had been allowing the claiming of land, as it always made for better crops, the farmers focusing on their own plots of grain and vegetables and animals. He ruled that they switch plots with two other farmers, relocating them apart from one another. I disagreed. Why not put some of those in the city out there instead? Both of them could use the change in trade.

But, I did not argue with Turgon. My equal he might be when we were alone, but here he was my King, and I had no place to correct him. I bowed before him in public, and chased him around naked in private.

Ah, the ways of those times.

Anyway, by the time Open Court adjourned at sunset, I had firmly made up my mind that I would never again force myself to endure a grueling summer day of sheer boredom wearing heavy, full formal robes. I’d done it once, but I wouldn’t again.

And I had a new understanding of Turgon’s appreciation for my massages. I could use one myself, but he was likely to be as stiff as I. A long soak in the tub then. I escaped from the meeting hall, only to be captured by Idril "Are you not coming to dinner?" she inquired.

I apologized, refused and asked if she could send someone with a tray please?
"Certainly. Oh, and I heard that you turned down an offer to marry me. Should I be heartbroken?" She continued, grinning. Tired and in no mood for her silliness, I replied enigmatically "Only you Idril, only you." She patted my shoulder endearingly as I began the long trek up the main staircase with a sigh, wondering if I’d survive to make it to the top with my legs aching so.

****

I was in the dreamy state between asleep and awake when suddenly someone grabbed my buttocks. I quit floating and fought back, bathwater flying everywhere.

Laughter brought me back to where I was, standing in the bathtub, hands on my hips, glaring at a very amused Turgon.

When he quit laughing, he attempted to apologize. "I’m sorry, you just looked so relaxed. Would you rather I had just teased your legs apart and taken you in my mouth?"
My glare eased some with the image his words brought, and my body decided that would definitely have been a great way to be woken up, and informed everyone looking thus, in the least imaginative way.

He grinned and started laughing again. "I can see that it would have been, then." I rolled my eyes and got out of the tub, not bothering with a towel.

I tossed myself on the bed and curled into the multiple blankets on my side of the bed. Turgon liked his blankets light and warm. I liked mine heavy and cool. Thus, mine were all heavy fabrics, and his soft. I inevitably rolled over onto his side to snuggle up with his fuzzy blankets, taking all the covers.

He padded in a few minutes later and sat down on the side of the bed.
"Did I make you angry?" He asked tentatively.
I rolled over and looked at him in the dim light. "No."
"What’s wrong then?"
"How do you survive those meetings? Everything hurts." I complained.
"I think of you. Unfortunately, it impairs my focus a bit. But it’s nice to know that once a horrible day sitting in a chair is over I’ll be going back to your arms." He said, sliding over to me.

I sat up, touched by his reply and stunned into silence. He brushed my hair off to one side and began kneading the unused muscles in my back and shoulders that missed the exertion of target practice with bow and spear.

I was asleep long before he lay me down, but when he did and curled around me under all the blankets, I heard him whisper "I can do anything as long as I have you, nin ind." And as he snuggled his face between my shoulder blades and wrapped his arms around my waist, a single tear slipped down my face, over my nose and vanished into my damp hair.

And then another, because I didn’t know why I was crying.

Chapter Five:

I woke early, a vague feeling of dread in my belly. Turgon slept still, his head rested on the flat of my lower back where my buttocks flattened out into my waist. It was just before dawn, the light drifting in through the windows yet dim.
I did my best to dispel the fear and unease I had woken with, cuddling against Turgon and deeper into the bedding. His arms tightened around my hips, and I managed to snuggle back into sleep’s promising warmth.

The second time I woke it was to the door being thrown wide, and I was up on my elbows and looking toward the door just as Turgon’s head left his pillow of my flesh and we both looked to see a startled servant in the doorway.

"What is it?" Turgon demanded.
"My lord, it is Aredhel! She has returned!" The servant babbled at us.
I felt Turgon go still. "Aredhel! Aredhel? My sister!" He said suddenly, and clambered over my legs, forgetting about everything completely in his haste to dress. The blushing servant left as I sat up and waved him out, getting up to help Turgon find his clothes.

He fluttered about, stressing, while I attempted to help him dress and finally gave up and rushed myself into fresh clothes, for I was in the habit of keeping a spare set or two in his quarters. He was out the door before I could even pull on my leggings, and I sighed and prayed he wasn’t in too much of a disarray. It would be bad enough for him to run down with his hair unkempt, but worse to go down in my clothes or missing items of clothing required for decency. Well, he was a grown man; far older than I, if he ran out half naked it was his own fault.

I stifled my giggles at the image of his pants falling off as he stood from his throne to greet his sister formally, and went downstairs after him.

I found him in the King’s Hall, already asking Ecthelion and Idril to be seated at his right and left, and I entered and he saw to it that I sat to Idril’s left; after all I was a nobleman and guest of his house. Then he sat, and commanded that Aredhel and Meaglin be brought before him.

They came, and He welcomed them both warmly, then Aredhel his sister told the tale of all that had befallen her, and Turgon smiled on them both, enchanted with the princely son of his sister, and spoke.

"I rejoice that Ar-Feiniel has returned to Gondolin, and now more fair again shall my city seem than in the days when I deemed her lost. And Meaglin shall have the highest honor in my realm." Turgon announced proudly, his joy in his sister’s return granting his speech eloquence.

I looked in awe and wonder at Aredhel and her son Meaglin standing before us. Ecthelion was sitting on the other side of Turgon, and I could swear that if it hadn’t been improper, Turgon would have leapt up and embraced his sister. As it was, he held himself restrained and I couldn’t help but catch on to his glee and stifle my own grin.

Aredhel was indeed lovely, dressed in white with her long waving hair shining in the midsummer sunlight. Meaglin beside her stood tall and dark, his face expressionlessly forbidding. He had looked at Turgon with wonder when he entered, and I saw that he might have designs on him, perhaps to achieve the throne by way of his bed, but even as he had met Turgon’s eyes he had seen the truth, and his dark gaze had fallen on me.

I met his black eyes evenly, doing my best to reveal nothing. I saw there my equal in sly cunning, and knew that I would have to employ the long-dormant clever, tricky part of my intelligence to stay one step ahead of this one. He meant no good for me, and when he looked at Idril, I saw her tense out of the corner of my eye. Yet to Turgon he was all kindness, and to his mother ever deceptive, and Idril and I held our tongues until the time would come that we could say our piece.

Meaglin bowed low before Turgon and took him for Lord and King, vowing his loyalty, and I saw that Turgon was pleased indeed, despite the troubling words of Aredhel’s tale of her life since she had left Gondolin. And even as he stood erect at Turgon’s word, a messenger entered the Hall, and Turgon turned to him.

"Lord, the Guard have taken captive one that came by stealth to the Dark Gate. Eol he names himself, and he is a tall elf, dark and grim, of the kindred of the Sindar; yet he claims the Lady Aredhel as his wife, and demands to be brought before you. His wrath is great and he is hard to restrain; but we have not slain him as your law commands." The messenger stated briskly.

All eyes in the Hall then turned to Aredhel, and she went pale in fear and shame, and said to Meaglin "Alas! Eol has followed us, even as I feared." Then she faced her brother, and took a step toward him entreatingly. "But with great stealth it was done; for we saw and heard no pursuit as we entered the Hidden Way."

She turned then to the messenger in a sweeping, graceful motion. "He speaks but the truth. He is Eol, and I am his wife, and he is the father of my son. Slay him not, but lead him hither to the King’s judgment, if the King so wills." I was struck in that moment, of how in Turgon’s tale of her she had been haughty and proud, but now she was humbled, and I wondered if it pained Turgon to see, glancing at him. If he was, he showed no sign of it.

He granted her request, and the messenger was dispatched back to the Gate, and Turgon gave the Lady Aredhel Ar-Feiniel the seat Ecthelion had occupied in a gesture of restoration, and Ecthelion went to stand with those gathered about the walls of the Hall, a silent audience. I was removed from the seat beside Idril, and the seat brought that Meaglin might sit in it beside his mother.

Thus when all was arranged and right, as it should be, Eol was brought in to stand before Turgon, haughty and sneering even as he was awed by the majesty of the city. Tall and proud, his skin as light and hair as dark as his son’s, Eol smoldered with anger, and hatefully refused to look at Aredhel.

Turgon rose and took his right hand in his own, honoring him, saying "Welcome, kinsman, for so I hold you. Here you shall dwell at your pleasure, save only that you must here abide and depart not from my kingdom; for it is my law that none who finds the way hither shall depart." Eol’s dark eyes blazed with hate and he jerked his hand free as if burned.

"I acknowledge not your law." He sneered into Turgon’s face, his words striking as effectually as if he had slapped the King. "No right have you or any of your kin in this land to seize realms or set bounds, either here or there. This is the land of the Teleri, to which you bring war and all unquiet, dealing ever proudly and unjustly. I care nothing for your secrets and I came not to spy upon you, but to claim my own: my wife and my son. Yet if in Aredhel your sister you have some claim, then let her remain; let the bird go back to the cage, where she will soon sicken again, as she sickened before. But not so Meaglin. My son you shall not withhold from me. Come, Meaglin son of Eol! Your father commands you. Leave the house of his enemies and the slayers of his kin, or be accursed!"

I glanced at Meaglin to see him tight-lipped and unemotional, looking at his father expressionlessly. Stiff with anger, Turgon stepped back and sat back in his throne, taking up his scepter. I waited for his wrath to fall, pitying Eol in the slightest. The man had no idea what he’d just done, truly. Could anyone be such a fool to act so knowingly?

"I will not debate with you, Dark Elf. By the swords of the Noldor are your sunless woods defended. Your freedom to wander there wild you owe to my kin; and but for them long since you would have labored in thralldom in the pits of Angband. And here I am King; and whether you will it or will it not, my doom is law. This choice only is given to you: to abide here, or to die here; and so also for your son." Turgon announced in a low voice, reining in his anger to serve his purposes.

Eol looked at Turgon challengingly, and both remained motionless and silent for a long time, their eyes in wordless duel. From the corner of my eye I could see Aredhel beginning to shake from the strained silence in the air, but Meaglin was passive as ever. Idril too, was silent, watching the combatants warily. Ecthelion beside me did not move, but I knew from the tenseness of him behind me that the silence held much to be watched over and possibly acted upon.

Suddenly his hand flew beneath his robes and flung a short spear at his son, even as he shouted "The second choice I take and for my son also! You shall not hold what is mine!" None of us moved swiftly enough to save Meaglin but for his mother, and Aredhel took the wound in the shoulder. Ecthelion and I fell upon Eol, the guards with us, and we dragged the enraged dark elf out. At the door I paused and glanced up to see Aredhel standing, and took that for a good sign. Turgon spoke coldly to us then, saying "Bring him tomorrow, that he may hear my judgment." And we took him to the dungeon where a room could hold him.

I sought out Turgon, and found him in the room appointed to his sister, where she sat in the bed with her wound bound, Idril at her side, arguing with Turgon, pleading for Eol. I waited in the doorway, silently watching. They argued until evening, and then Turgon was moved to mercy for the sake of his sister, agreeing to her terms that she might rest, for her head was aching and she was feverish but refused to rest until she saw to Turgon’s agreement.

He left then, and I with him, while Idril stayed with her aunt.

When we reached his rooms I paused to close the door and he fell across the bed, his arm over his eyes. He was tired, and I knew it. I removed his boots, outer robe and shirt, then rolled him onto his belly, seating myself on his buttocks and rubbing his back with his favorite bath oil. He relaxed into my touch, and was nearly asleep when a knock came at the door, scarce two hours later.

It was one of Idril’s handmaidens, breathless from running. I opened the door and she babbled out the message that Aredhel had fallen very ill suddenly, and could not be roused from her sleep. Turgon was at the door, drawing his outer robe shut as he ran to Aredhel’s rooms, dispensing with proper dress in fear for his sister. I went after him, leaving our room the same mess it had been all day, and the maiden closed the door and gave chase, trailing us through the halls.

When I arrived he was on one knee beside the bed, Aredhel’s hand in his own as he brushed wisps of hair from her face. She was as still as death, and Idril sat in a chair beside the bed, watching the healer hover over her aunt. I went and sat beside her, taking her hands in mine, and I caught sight of Meaglin on the other side of the room, watching dispassionately. His seeming indifference was undermined by his red-rimmed eyes and the silvery tear tracks down his lean face. He was glaring at me, resenting my touch with both Turgon and Idril.

I felt sorrowed for him, and would liked to have stood by his side in wordless comfort, but he likely would not have appreciated, allowed or endured that. Aredhel passed in her sleep, and I only knew it had happened when the healer left the room in sad resignment and Turgon wept over his sister’s hand. No one spoke a word. Meaglin bowed his head and seemed to vanish in the room’s shadowed corner, and I pulled Idril into my arms and let her weep on my chest. I too wept, not only because Aredhel was not only a wonderful woman and the sister of my beloved, but also that I hadn’t known her, and that was something I regretted of chance.

Near dawn I picked Idril up in my arms and carried her, sleeping, to her quarters, leaving her in the capable and comforting hands of her handmaidens.

I returned and stood over Turgon a moment before bending to kiss Aredhel’s cold brow, the only final blessing I could give her, besides my comfort to her brother. I took his hand gently from hers, and picked him up, limp and unresisting. He leaned on me and numbly walked back to our rooms. I didn’t see Meaglin as I left the serving women to their duties to care for Aredhel’s body.

Once in our rooms I put him on the bed and rubbed his cold bare feet, wrapped him in the passion-tangled blankets that were now a sad memory of our previous joy, and removed my own boots and robes before crawling in beside him and taking him in my arms.

He wept for hours, and I stroked his hair and hummed soothingly to him until he slept, and I followed him into the warm darkness of sleep, sorrow forgotten for but a little time.
Such a short time.
Chapter Six:

I woke at midmorning, my eyes bleary and my head aching from crying. Turgon was a clingy, sweating hulk firmly attached to both me and the heavy pile of blankets. Remembering the events of the previous day, I sighed and tightened my lips, cuddling Turgon closer to me while he was still vulnerable in sleep.
If he’d been disposed to be merciful to Eol last night, he certainly wouldn’t be now. And thus, a dark duty awaited this day, that would surely end in death as a fitting judgment for one certain haughty dark elf. And though I was sorrowed over Aredhel, I knew that such a sentence would only be just.

Turgon woke before much time had passed as I lay there trying to collect my thoughts, contemplating endlessly. He looked at me. "Glorfindel, beloved." He rasped.
"I forgive, Turgon, I forgive." I told him, looking deep into his eyes.
"Then you do what I cannot. I must see to it. Will you stand with me?" He asked.
"I will follow you in all that you do." I assured him, and he held me close and laid many desperate kisses on my brow, as desperate as a baby’s first breath. I kissed what I could reach of him with utmost tenderness, his jaw, his neck, and his shoulder.

Then he rose and bathed and began to dress, and I took the bath after him even though it was cold, and he waited for me. When I was dressed we ate the light meal the servants brought, and then kissed once more, for courage and comfort, and then we left the room we shared as lovers and equals, and became a nobleman and his king, our social masks firmly in place.

When Eol was brought into the throne room in bonds to stand before Turgon, with Meaglin on his left and Idril on his right, Turgon sentenced him without mercy, saying, "For the murder of Aredhel Ar-Feiniel, Eol shall be cast into the precipice from the city walls on Caragdur. Is it just?" He addressed those gathered and Eol in general.

And I with the people all answered in one accord: "It is just."

And so Turgon rose and motioned that Eol be led away there, and Idril and Meaglin and I and as many of the people who would go followed them, and when we all stood on Caragdur there was silence, and Meaglin, standing aside, appeared as aloof as ever. Idril stood closer to me, and took my hand in hers, and I squeezed it in silent comfort as the guards awaited Turgon’s signal.

Turgon stood motionless, looking at Eol a long time, and Eol looked at him as proudly as ever. Turgon broke his gaze, and his hand rose from his side to give the signal. Eol spoke then, looking at Meaglin. "So you forsake your father and his kin, ill-gotten son! Here shall you fail of all your hopes, and here may you yet die the same death as I." Turgon gave the signal, and Eol was cast over the Caragdur.

Meaglin’s features seemed fixed, and Idril turned and hid her face in my chest wordlessly, as Turgon turned away form the scene and started back to the shelter of his palace. As he passed me his eyes met mine, and I saw grief and anguish and anger and pain, but worst of all, there was no recognition in them for me or for his own daughter.

The people also scattered, and Meaglin and Idril and Ecthelion and I were the only ones soon left on Caragdur with the guards, the wind blowing at the silence between us. Seeing that Idril was exhausted by grief and loss and that she leaned heavily on me, quite unable to stand, no less walk, I picked her up and cradled her to my chest, carrying her all the distance back to the palace. Meaglin’s glare cooled my back as I turned and walked away.

I laid Idril on her bed and left her once more in the care of her maidens, and then I went to seek my grieving mate.

I found him in the throne room, curled in his seat on the dais with his cloak over his face. I walked in quietly and shut the door behind me, instructing the guards with my eyes that none was to enter. He did not look at me or move as I approached.

Sweat trickled down my back as I sat at his feet and waited.
When there was no response from him, I leaned forward against his knees and was still or a moment, before commencing with my own sorrows. His sister, so long lost, was returned to us only to be struck down with a poison dart.

And our recompense for it was surely no better than the deed itself, for as cold as Meaglin appeared, he had lost both his parents at once, and such a blow he was not deserving of. Presently, Turgon laid his hand on my head, and I clung to his legs, rising on my own knees.

Aware of how uncomfortable the position was on me, he moved me off after a moment and took me in his arms. We sat in the throne together, leaning on one another for strength, and I drew his cloak over us both despite the sweltering heat.

Chapter Seven:

Life was slow to resume after that time.
Meaglin hid his sorrows well, and occupied himself with forging iron from the mine of Anghabar in the north of Echoriath. Turgon loved him, and I was glad to see that whatever designs Meaglin had planned for Turgon were now changed, and that he was taking a slightly more honorable route to power than becoming king’s consort or something equally unseemly, son in law.

Turgon kept him as councilman for several years before naming him regent, and Meaglin fooled everyone with his eagerness and willingness to serve Gondolin. The situation of an heir seemed resolved to Turgon and he was more cheerful, but I confessed to him that I did not believe his sister-son to be the best candidate, no matter how suited for it.

As ever, he valued my words, but did not heed them, and thus I said no more of it, seeking instead Idril’s counsel. She was perhaps more cunning than I, and saw Meaglin’s mind more clearly. All the same we were rarely apart, for although he loathed me and resented my place, he was as likely to come upon me unawares and stare unnervingly as he was likely to approach or follow Idril through her father’s house.

Ecthelion kept his house well, and Turgon placed him in charge of the Gate. I too tended my house, but more rarely, as my steward Amredeth was a wise man and my household was small, for I had no wife or offspring. My house kept itself mainly, leaving me free to keep Turgon’s bed and I became known as Idril’s companion, and commonly I was referred to as Glorfindel the Beloved because I had found such favor in the king’s house.

Whether the common people knew if I was Idril’s lover or Turgon’s I never did decipher, for rumors tend to be slippery and I could never track them to their den, but I suspected it from the solitary dark figure that haunted the palace.

Turgon woke me often at night with his dreams, and I became adroit at interpreting them. The world outside Gondolin was stirring, changing, and the eagles brought us no news of it, busy on their own missions of Manwe their master.

Until the day that the wind brought Thorondor himself to us, there existed a tentative peace and bliss in the King’s House. Meaglin, ever silent and watchful, spent his days in Turgon’s company, and I spent mine in Idril’s, no longer welcome to keep company with my King; or thus said the shining dark eyes of Meaglin who lurked ever about.

Chapter Eight:

"Mmmmm...good morning my beloved." I murmured into the mouth caressing mine, waking to see Turgon on his hands and knees over me. I kissed him back, stretching in the warm sunshine.
I had designed the bedroom in my house with him in mind, for I knew that he loved waking to the warm caress of sunshine.

He grinned and bit my neck gently, laving the nip with his tongue. "Hungry, are we?" I asked, amused. "Always." He replied, teasing my nipples mercilessly. I laughed. "Then go to the door and ask the servant to bring us breakfast, ah, and stop biting me!"

With a parting bite to my hipbone, he did rise and go to the door to call for a servant. Amazing, that here in our bed, we were equals, and just simply Glorfindel and Turgon, not the King and Lord of the House of the Golden Flower.

My sated musings were interrupted by him bounding onto the bed in his classic, over-enthusiastic, the-morning-after style with a tray in his hands. I sat up, eager to see what he’d brought us, but he pushed me gently back down and pulled the blankets off me until I lay bare in the sunshine with him sitting next to me, the tray in his lap.

"What are you doing?" I wondered aloud.
He smirked at me, a most unsettling thing when he had all the food and I was hungry. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to think ahead of him, and was entirely unprepared when he began laying fruit slices on my hipbones. I stared at him in confusion. "Just relax." He commanded, and I did so, waiting to see what he’d do next.

He decorated my ribs and nipples with more fruit slices, and then picked up a small pot of honey. "Hold still." He told me, and slightly aroused, I complied. He drizzled the honey from my shoulders to my knees, all over the fruit laid there. Then he set aside the honey pot and tray, and picked up a small piece of bread.

He stroked it over my skin where honey had pooled in the contours of my body, dipping it well. Then he took a bite and grinned at me, offering me the rest. I took it without moving, and he began with more bread. We shared the fruit the same way, before he undertook to lick all the stickiness from my skin.

I arched when he finally got around to taking my erect member in his mouth, shouting some, such was the point of desperation he’d driven me to with the food and his tongue. In a moment I hit head on with a climax so grand my vision darkened, and I felt the warm, wet mouth recede and creep up my body.

Panting, I looked down to see Turgon crouched next to me, a most definitely predatory gleam in his eye. I grabbed for him and missed, he rolled me onto my belly easily and began work with fingers and tongue on my back. When he finally reached my buttocks an eternity later, I spread my legs wide, gasping at the change of pressure on my renewed erection.

He laid his hands on my thighs and I was soon thrashing and wailing under the expert ministrations of his clever tongue. Withdrawing, he laughed at my discomfiture and sat me up, slicking my member as I clutched the bedding feverishly. Realizing he’d driven me into this frenzy to set himself up for a good hard pounding, I glared at him between gasping breaths, incapable of speech.

He caught the gleam in my eye and panting himself, turned onto his hands and knees. In the state I was in I’d have been a fool to refuse such an eloquent offer, and grabbing his hips with my hands drove into him deeply. He pushed back, seeking his own pleasure, and I gave up and slammed into him in abandon.

Feeling orgasm impending, I leaned down and bit into his shoulder, turning a scream of pleasure into a growl of intense delight. I passed out with the fire that ricocheted through my lower belly, and when I came to Turgon was leaning over me, chuckling breathily as he wiped hair from my face.

Regaining some of the air I’d lost forgetting to breathe, I laughed back at him. We were asleep before our breathing returned to normal.

Day like this, when we hid away in my house, were often the most pleasant of all, and our urges for occasional reforging our bond were often commenced here. Servants were less likely to interrupt us here, which is why the urgent knocking at the door alarmed me even as Turgon and I jerked awake.

"What is it?" I called.
Amredeth’s muffled voice answered. "My Lord, the Regent of the King sends for him, he has a messenger with an urgent message waiting in the palace." I looked at Turgon, he was beginning to get dressed. "Give us a moment to compose ourselves and we’ll be right there, Amredeth." I replied, reaching for a cloth to dampen and clean myself with.

Turgon and I swept into full dress speedily, which was a rather astonishing feat as we had kept one another awake nearly all night. I didn’t bother with the room any more than to simply close the door, and as I followed him through the streets to the palace, I wondered where I had gotten the habit to be so messy. Perhaps it was just him?

When we reached the King’s Hall, Meaglin was there, silently considering a boy in rough farming clothes, obviously from down in the valley. He was looking uneasily around, and when Turgon swept in and I after him, he nearly fainted bowing so low. Turgon nodded acknowledgement of him, then turned to Meaglin. "What word?" He asked.

Meaglin answered without ceasing his dark brooding, lips the only mobile living thing on his features as he spoke, returning to stone when he had finished speaking. "Ask the boy." He replied mildly.

Turgon looked at the aforementioned boy and the child babbled out that there was a great eagle, Thoron-something, on Gladden Fields, and he insisted that Turgon come to him, for he bore dark news none other should receive first. Turgon paled, and was silent a moment, bracing himself.
"Bring me to him."

Meaglin and Idril and I followed at a distance as Turgon went down the stairs leading away from the walls, the child leading him wordlessly.

Thorondor was indeed there, waiting for Turgon. The boy went back to his family gathered outside their house and Idril held my hand as Turgon and Thorondor spoke quietly, alone. Meaglin stood a short distance from us, his gaze covering all.

Presently Thorondor alighted, his great wings bearing him away, and Turgon stood there a moment watching him go, before his knees crumpled under him and he fell to them, his face in his hands.

Idril and I flinched as if struck, and the impassive Meaglin looked on. Gathering my courage, I went to him, dragging Idril with me the full distance. We circled around to stand in front of him, and he did not look at either of us. Idril sank to her knees and took him in her arms, and I dropped listlessly beside them. What tragedy had brought him to this?

I was afraid.
I reached out and laid my hand on his shoulder and he reached out for me and folded me against his chest, hiding his face in my long hair. Idril murmured soothingly to him, and over the next hour we coaxed from him Thorondor’s tidings.

His father; Fingolfin, High King of the Elves, was dead.
Killed in single combat with Morgoth, protecting his lands and his kin. The battle was long, and Fingolfin wounded his enemy even unto his own death, but he lost in the end, crushed under Morgoth’s heel.

And as sorrowed as I was, Turgon’s sorrow was greater. I held him and wept with him, heedless of the heat of the day under the cold of sadness. Near noon Meaglin approached, even as Idril’s pained broken whispers of love and comfort began to buoy her father up from the depth of his grief.

I looked at him, and I fancied I might have seen kindness in his eyes. I told him in low tones of what had happened, and he looked stricken for a moment before his mask slipped into place again. I sent him for Ecthelion, and to spread the news among the Gondolindrim. He went, and I focused my efforts on my mate.

When Ecthelion arrived, his own eyes rimmed in red, Idril and I had gotten Turgon standing, and were leading him along toward the palace, toward Turgon’s haven of peace.

All of Gondolin was in mourning that day.
When Turgon sat unmoving and unspeaking in my arms in his darkened throne room that evening, a messenger came, saying that Thorondor was once again on Gladden Fields, and requesting audience with my King. I dismissed the man and waited.

After a time, Turgon’s sad gray eyes turned to me. "I must go to him." He grated out. I nodded, and standing with him and laying his arm across my shoulders, I supported him as we went, together.

We stood before the great bird, and Thorondor’s eyes were half-lidded and his wings drooped with sadness. Seeing that Turgon could not speak, I did for him, praying that the two kings would forgive my insolence. "My Lord Thorondor. We request that you grant us your speech." The eagle’s golden eyes swiveled to me, and he was silent, regarding me.

He finally deigned to speak. "Morgoth has broken the body, intending to feed it to his wolves. I have borne it up out of Angband and it now rests on the mountain top that looks from the north over Gondolin." And that as all he said, moving off a space before taking flight again.

When the buffeting from his great wings no longer blew our hair, I dared look at Turgon once more. "What do we do now?" I asked him softly.
His eyes met mine, and my heart broke for him anew. He replied simply "We bury him."

I took him up to the afore-mentioned summit, and the Gondolindrim followed after us. We laid a high cairn over the father of our king, as a gift and a labor of love and an expression of our own sorrow for him and with him. And when it was done we all went back down to our city, all those who had helped, some guiding those of us home who could no longer see for weeping.

And Turgon leaned heavily on me, and I bore his weight and took him to our bed in his house and laid him in it. He was as still as death while I undressed him and laid the blankets as he liked, and when I joined him he turned instinctively into me for warmth.

I cried for myself as well as him that night, for I had no father or sister or brother or daughter as he had, and all that he was to me, his family was to me as well. And I feared that I might lose him as he had lost them, and that thought held too much darkness to bear, lest I go mad with despair.

Chapter Nine:

When I woke, he spoke to me without opening his eyes, which were closed in grief. "Hold me. Just hold me." He said. I could do no less. I held him.
We spent the day in bed, for he had no desire to move, and I had no desire to leave him. Another night passed, and it's morning brought hunger to me with it. I rose, and sent for food, and coaxed Turgon to eat. I had begun to itch from the remnants of our last breakfast in bed, and I bathed and took him with me.

He had very little desire to move or act, and none whatsoever to speak, but he trusted me and did whatever I bade him. I told him to get into the tub, and he did so. I washed him, and then told him to get out of the tub, which he also did. I dried and dressed him, and taking him into his room brushed his hair and laid his crown upon his brow, that he might draw strength from it.

Whether he did or not, I could not tell. I then took his hand and walked him to Aredhel's gardens, and sat with him there. Idril joined us, and held him. I was at a loss of what to do for him. I sought out Meaglin, to be sure that all matters of state were carried out appropriately.

There was innuendo and malice in every word he spoke, but I left his counsel knowing two things. One, that Gondolin was in capable, if dark, hands. Two, was that Meaglin hated me.

In the evening light, as I came out to the garden to take Turgon inside, I saw two eagles overhead, bearing riders. I closed my eyes, pausing in the doorway, praying to the Valar for mercy. Idril looked up then, and understood my action. "Take him and set him on his throne, and I will see to what must be done." I instructed her, then looked into Turgon's pain-filled gray eyes. "I cannot shield you from your duty; you must receive the riders of these eagles." I said to him regretfully. He nodded, and I was moved by his tenacity.

I went down to see to them.
And I met Hurin and Huor.

When I reached the plain, the eagles were already flying away, having had nothing to say to anyone. Two Men stood together, watching me approach. Men! I had never seen or met a Man before them, besides the Easterlings that had passed by my valley now and then in ages long past, and these were not of that people. Both were shorter than I, although one was smaller than the other.

They spoke Sindarin, and I understood them. Hurin was older than Huor, twenty-one, a man among Men according to age; although he later assured me he was not of full stature of most Men, falling on the shorter side. Huor was not grown, and referred to as a boy by his older brother, being only thirteen.

I introduced myself as Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, and bade them to follow me to be presented before the King. They kept their own counsel, and followed the path I led them along up to the city. The Gondolindrim were defensive of their city, protective of their King, but seeing I trusted them and that they held no malice, the people were content to accompany us to Turgon's throne room.

Turgon received them well, although Men had never set foot in Gondolin before. I remembered several dreams he had had of Men, and when Hurin said that he was of the House of Hador, I was relieved; for Ulmo had warned nothing but good of them to Turgon. Turgon welcomed them, and gave them quarters in his own house. Hurin recounted to Turgon in detail Dagor Bragollach and his part in it, and soon we knew all of it, from Angfauglith to Ulmo's part in rescuing him along the Sirion.

I was bidden to lead them to their rooms, and I came to like Hurin's honest assessing glances about himself, and his few practical questions about the nature of things here where they would stay. I told him that he could call for food if he wished, for the hour of the evening meal was past. I did not mention our King's sorrow, but he had known it. I told him of our schedule here, and warned him to be ready in the morn if Turgon should desire to speak with him at greater length.

I had the stewards bring for them clothes, and offered Huor mine and Idril's company for the morrow, if he was not welcome to stay along his brother in the king's counsels. I left them to themselves, and went back for Turgon.

He was with Idril, going up to his chambers, when I met them on the stair. I would have relieved Idril the burden of caring for him, but Turgon laid his palm against my face to stay me. I met his eyes. "You should go and see to your House." He said.

I refused. "My loyalty is greater with you than with them."
"It should not be so. They love you, and are sorrowed and they feel greater sadness in the wake of your neglect. They need your leadership more than I need your strength." He gently put me in my place, reminding me of my responsibilities.

I did not will to leave him, and opened my mouth to argue. Idril lay her fingers on my lips. "Go and do as he bids you, and I will see to him. But come again tomorrow, for the guests Ulmo has sent to comfort my father will need guidance themselves." I nodded, and with a kiss to the brow of she who was as a sister to me, and an embrace for my beloved, I went.

Chapter Ten:

The men of my House were so used to not seeing me, that when I was among them and not with Turgon, they were wary and hesitant. Turgon had been right, I had neglected them badly, and they had suffered for it. I took a meal with them and went to great lengths to earn back their unfailing trust.
I marveled at their independency, and was kind to them, staying up late and forsaking my bed for their company. Several of the younger men worked up the nerve and asked me if they might take wives, and I not only allowed it, but encouraged it. My House was a large one, many men had sought me out to pledge themselves to my service, knowing my tale and that I had the favor of the King.

All worked out well, and by the time I had gone to bed I had appointed a regent, in case any harm should befall me, for it was hardly likely that I would ever have sons or daughters. I was woken not an hour later by my steward Amredeth, informing me that Galdor had come to see me.

I was not familiar with the head of the House of the Tree, and wondered at his presence. I said for him to be let in, and given refreshment if he so desired. I dressed again, and stumbled down to my Hall where he waited.

"Glorfindel." He said after he had greeted me. "I know you are great in the favor of the King and City, and your bonds with him are tight. Great sorrow has befallen him in these last days, and I have heard that he was deeply aggrieved. I would speak to you of his sudden guests, Men from the outside, and of his state. Is our King well and hale, fit to deal with these events, or is his Regent given too much leniency?"

So he too knew the malice of Meaglin, and not just Idril and I. Perhaps Meaglin was not quite as discreet as he ought to be. I suspected at his designs in letting his darker nature be seen, but alas, who was to know the mind of Meaglin; lest it be Idril, and she did not speak of what she saw in her cousin's heart.

I spoke. "I believe he will do well enough, for he is stronger than he seems. The worst danger to his state is past, and he desires to continue in his position; whether to avoid much weight falling upon his regent I do not know, and cannot guess. He does not see clearly where Meaglin is concerned, but despite his blindness to his sister-son, I feel he has clarity of sight regarding his guests. I trust them, for he has foreseen them in dreams sent by Ulmo, and so he has told me in times past. Who else has seen what our King has not?"

Galdor answered "The Lords of other Houses besides you and I have seen him revealed, Rog of the folk of the Hammer of Wrath and Duilin of the Swallow and Ecthelion of the Fountain, and by wise stealth is was done; or he has a greater plot we have yet to see in him."

"It may be he has grown lax in vigilance to deceive, or he has developed a plot I have yet to guess. It may be that he is merely grown more clever and stealthy in other ways, and trusts this one to heedlessness to aid his plans. I will watch him, and what I see, you will know."

He nodded, and laid and hand on my shoulder. "You are wiser than you are often given credit, for you hide your brilliance twice as cleverly as Meaglin his hate, and it is always calculated when you show it or show it not."

I smiled a bit then, for I could not resist his charming smile, and the compliment pleased me. "He may yet be wiser than me, and who can tell until the end? I will watch him as I can, and as I have promised, I will do. If I see his devisions I shall reveal them, that they may not succeed, for Meaglin must not prevail; while Turgon lives or after."

"You are truly an asset to him, I see why he keeps you at hand. For one who lacks the benefit of being raised among a people, and only learned to speak after you came here not so long ago, you are quick of wit and keen of mind in ways that one could never expect. Should you ever turn against him, pray that it not be so, I would fear that all would fall before your mighty hand."

"I shall never turn against him, for I take no pleasure in either leadership or royalty, aiding where I can and when I can, and hoping that my efforts be timely."

"For one who has never tasted battle Glorfindel, I think I would be honored to stand beside you in a fight." It was high praise, indeed, especially from him; for the House of the Tree was a great house, and it's leader perhaps second only in heart to Turgon himself.

"And I would be glad to stand with thee, that your valor might overcome my fear, Galdor, but let there be peace all there can and will be, and let us talk no more of war and battles this day, for I think that they will come all to soon." Given the events of the world outside, it was the truth.

"Then I will say farewell, and keep you from your bed no longer, for we both have the business of the city come morning." He rose, and I rose with him, taking his forearm in farewell.

"May your House prosper and be blessed, Galdor."

"May all greatness come to the sons of your line, Glorfindel."

I released him, and he left.

I found Amredeth asleep by the stair as I made my way from the fire lit Hall in the dark by stumbling over him. I excused him from my service this night, for the man was tired and only too glad to go to his bed. When my eyes adjusted to the dark in the corridor, I went up the stairs and fell into my bed, still dressed.

Chapter Eleven:

Amredith woke me with a summons from the King's House and a nearly ungodly hour, dawn. When I had only been asleep since just past midnight, waking was difficult, and only a cold bath roused me fully.
I dressed again, and went to Turgon's house.

Hurin was in counsel with the King, and Meaglin, who obviously begrudged Hurin and Huor Turgon's favor was openly kind and fair to them, but I could see that he loathed them. When I was let in, I bowed before my mate, and looked up to receive a sneer from Meaglin. I ignored him, for in my experience he was harmless.

"Glorfindel, will you keep Huor company this day? I fear he is too young to be troubled with our counsels." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Huor bristle. He'd been told he was too young many times before, but as evidenced in the fact that he'd gone to war with his brother at thirteen, he wasn't one to be held back by it. I swallowed a smile. "I would be honored." More bowing and posturing later, and I towed Huor out of the council chamber.

I needed to find Idril, she'd like to be informed of events and I had a feeling that Huor could tell us plenty.

She was in her gardens with her maidens, tending them in the rising summer heat. I introduced her and Huor to one another, and she bade us sit, and dismissed her maids. "Will you tell us Huor, of the recent events outside the walls of Gondolin? For I fear I have not yet heard them, and if Glorfindel has he has not heard them in full; and news comes rarely here."

Huor did as she said, and Idril sat beside me to listen to the tale in full.

"High King Fingolfin of the elves began it all. He decided that his forces of Men and Elves were strong enough to assail Morgoth, because he feared what Morgoth might do there in Angband in possible preparation of destroying all of Beleriand. His sons agreed with him, being that they live in Dorthonion and therefore under the shadow of Thandogrodrim, but still Fingolfin's desire came to naught."

I yawned, politely covering my mouth with my hand, and nodded for him to continue. Huor went on.

"Without warning, liquid fire issued forth from Thangorodrim in violent eruption, and destroyed Ard-Galen and all in it's path, until nothing left lived. Ard-Galen is now called Angfauglith, or the Gasping Dust, as I'm sure you two know, for you have spoken the language of elves longer than I."

At this Idril laughed, and said in brief my past, even as I lay my head on her shoulder and laughed. When she had finished, I added "So you see Huor, I hardly know more than you, although I have had longer to study."

"How much longer?"

"Nearly a hundred years, now."

"And your name, it means golden hair?"

"Yes."

"I had wondered about that. My grandfather was called Hador Lorindol, and often known for his golden hair. Hurin's and mine is gold too, but not the rich color of the elves." "Turgon named me, when he found me. I'd had no name before that."

"How long did you live alone? Idril did not say."

His boyish enthusiasm was fascinating. "I do not know. It was a very long time."

"Do you remember anything before it?"

"My memories before that time are vague and blurred with sorrow; the vision of dead silver eyes assaults me every time I try to think of it."

Huor looked as if he were about to apologize. I interrupted him "It is alright, though the memories cause me pain; I try not to think of them." I lay down with my head in Idril's lap, and she unwove the crown of office from my hair. He tilted his head to one side to look at me. "I was up late and early, and the past few days have been hard." I said by way of apology and explanation.

"Are you the Lady's lover?" he asked, wondering at my familiarity with her. We both laughed at that, and Idril undertook to make him understand. "No, we are like a brother and sister. Sometimes he is my child," She stroked my hair back from my cheek "And sometimes he is my friend. I think I am always his sister, and sometimes his daughter." I smiled up at her; Idril was even lovely upside down.

"Then you are the King's." He concluded. Idril looked up at him at that. "You are wise and see clearly in a way usually unknown to Men, young Huor. What you have seen is true, for neither hide it from eyes that wish to see. What is your opinion of it; how are such relationships viewed among you and your people?" She said guardedly.

"Those involved retain their honor, and are not looked down upon or respected more. It is the same, more or less, as when a man takes a woman for his own, only said nothing of, for there be no issue of children." Idril nodded, and I saw that she was pleased. "If you will continue your tale, Huor, I would be honored."

"Would you two mind if I slept? I will listen." I asked. Huor grinned. "Sleep if you like, Master elf, and I will speak to your companion in your stead." I nodded, and turned my face against Idril's belly, the embroidery of her dress pressing me. I rearranged it as Huor continued, and laid my body full length along the stone garden bench.

"Where was I? Ah, Angfauglith. After the plain was kindled and destroyed, dragons and balrogs and orcs came forth; assaulting Hithlum and Dorthonion and Lothlann, and those not destroyed in that first attack fled to the fortresses Ossiriand or Doraith or Nagothrond, and in battle on the walls of Eithel Sirion Hador my grandfather fell, and Gundor my uncle; leaving Galdor my father lordship of our house. I and my brother were fostered with my aunt Gloredhel's husband Haldir in Brethil, and we only heard of it after."

Idril's stroking of my hair lulled me to near-sleep, and Huor paused to comment "He sleeps with his eyes open, doesn't he?"

Idril nodded, and wondering, Huor went on. I smiled and drifted into sleep, still listening.

"When the smoke of Dagor Bragollach, the battle of sudden fire, had faded, Fingolfin heard news of the events and believed that all was lost and that the Noldor had brought Beleriand to ruin. He was mad with rage, and rode off alone, and word is that he could not or would not be stopped. He went to Angband's gates and challenged Morgoth forth, calling him master of slaves and all manner of foul things, and since Morgoth could not decline when his enemy was at his very gates; lest he lose face before his hosts, he came forth, and they fought, and the battle was great."

Idril paused and I felt her take a deep breath, so I wrapped an arm around her thigh in encouragement, and she lay her slender hand over my face, fingertips brushing my lips and brows. Huor dared continue at an unseen signal from Idril, remembering that Fingolfin had been her grandfather, and that she had known him long and well, softening his words accordingly.

"Fingolfin was brave, and Thorondor marred the face of the enemy after he was dead, and carried away the corpse lest it be defiled."

Huor fell silent. Idril's tears dropped on me like rain. "He brought him here." I said, and took Idril's hands.

"I thought that it was so. Fingon in Hithlum is now High King of the Elves."

I nodded. "And so came you here how?"

"I fought to be brought along into battle. I'm not a child, and I can hold my own in a fight." There was fire in his voice, and Idril chuckled softly. "It's true." He insisted. I waved him on.

"We were in a group that got separated from the main body of my uncle's force and were pursued to the Ford of Brithiach, but for a mist that came off the river we would have been found and slain by our enemies, and Hurin says that it was by the grace of Ulmo, but I saw no Valar anywhere I looked, and I should think Ulmo would be hard to miss." Idril muffled a laugh, and I hid my grin in her skirts.

"Ulmo can work in the most subtle of ways, Huor, for he sends Turgon dreams." I informed him.

"Well, I think it would have been more noticeable, perhaps it was just the river, after all." He stubbornly resisted. I quit arguing with the strong-headed lad.

"Anyway, we crossed the river, and got lost in the hills; but Hurin refused to admit being lost, of course, and so we wandered on until he gave up at last and threatened to bind and gag me if I didn't stop straining his judgment, and blamed me for getting us lost! In the afternoon, two eagles came to our aid and asked us to alight, and when we did so, they brought us here. And you would know the rest."

He stopped, and leaned back against the trunk of the tree that grew alongside of the bench.

"Very well told, brother." Hurin said from the gate of the garden. Huor and Idril started, I woke fully and sat up to look at him. Turgon was not with him. "The King would see you in his study, Lord Glorfindel, and as for my brother, we have an opportunity to be measured for clothing before the evening meal."

I rose and nodded to him, and bowed to Idril before I departed.

Chapter End Notes

Written in 2003.

Chapter Twelve:

Hurin and Huor stayed with us for a year, and after that first day the days when Huor was not in the company of Turgon and his brother were few. I still kept company with Idril, and managed my House, and spoke occasionally with Galdor. One morning I rose late, having been woken early and been well loved by an over-amorous Turgon. Hurin and Huor knew so long ago that Turgon and I were a pair that it was common for me to stay in the King's house overnight without pretending that Turgon and I did not keep night company.
And thus I was on my way to see Idril when I heard soft weeping.

Now I was then near the East Hall on the third level, and Maeglin's set of rooms. Darkness was fairly sequestered there, for heavy drapes blackened the light from the windows, and many of the furnishings were of dark wood or metal, for Maeglin was a clever forge man. I followed the sound to its source, just behind the door of Maeglin's room. I instructed the person to move back from the door, for it was locked and that was the source of the woman's distress. With a mighty heave I broke it open, and captured an armful that threw itself at me.

"He's coming! He's coming!" She shrieked, clawing to get past me. "He's coming back!"

I held her fast. "Who? Who's coming?"

"Maeglin! He'll kill me...kill me...kill me..." She was very close to passing out.

"Why would he kill you?" I asked her. She shrugged, didn't know, and tried to escape. I noted that she had been thoroughly debauched, and it didn't bother me that Maeglin had a lover, but it did bother me that she was absolutely hysterical.

"Alright, come on." I said, and carried her out into the hall. She followed me meekly, her face white in fear.

Once out, I tucked her in an alcove to comfort her fear and need to hide, then went in search of Turgon's steward. Perhaps he could help the woman.

Turgon's steward I found in the kitchen, arranging the day's meal schedules. I told him to meet me up in the alcove outside the East Hall, and returned there. I found the girl, lying in a pool of blood from her slit throat. I knelt swiftly and checked for a pulse, finding none. I stood in silence a moment. I needed to tell Turgon. I was sure Maeglin had done it, but there was no proof. Clever, clever Maeglin. I heard the steward coming up the stair. I could not be found with the body, it was in Maeglin's plan so that he could blame me or have me killed. I had been the last to touch her, to see her alive. I was the only one here now, and with his influence, Maeglin would believably blame me.

Maeglin had almost caught me. Almost. I would not walk into a trap again. I fled down the hall, to Idril's room. I needed a solid alibi, and Idril could vouch that I was with her at the time of the killing, even if she were to lie. I hadn't done it. And who would argue with Idril? The game's stakes had just gotten higher, and now it was between Maeglin and I. Well, I wouldn't make it easy for him to drag me down. I really shouldn't drag Idril into it, I knew, but she was already involved.

When I told her, her left brow rose in alarm. "We have to tell my father."

"He won't believe us."

"He might."

"Maeglin has him where he wants him. He can't even conceive of the idea that Maeglin might be plotting against him and manipulating him."

"So what do we do?"

"Tell him, of course."

"But isn't it pointless?"

"It's incriminating not to." I pointed out.

She sighed, and we set out, her taking my hand.

When we reached Turgon's office, our knock was answered by Maeglin, sliding himself through the opened door with a glare at each of us. "Where have you been?" He asked. Ah, so that was the game. Get both of us, if not one. But you don't want Idril dead, so what's your plot? I wondered.

Instead I answered "In Idril's rooms, playing a game of strategy with her maidens." I made sure to mention our witnesses.

His eyes narrowed. "You should not consort with servants. It is not befitting of a Lord." He told me, then turned to Idril.

"Why are you here?" His voice dripped with sustained lust and hate.

"To speak with my father. Privately." She answered coolly.

He leered, and opened the door. She walked through, and I remained close on her heels. Maeglin breathed hot and angry on my neck as I passed him by. He left and attempted to close the door behind himself, but I stopped it and left it open, so that he could not eavesdrop on the other side.

Turgon looked up from his desk at us. "Yes?"

Idril lay her hand flat at her side, palm facing the floor. It was a signal to me to stay silent.

"Father," She began. "I fear we have a murderer amongst us."
Turgon now paid her full attention.

"This morning, Glorfindel found a woman weeping in Maeglin's rooms, greatly distressed. He managed to convince her that he would find her some aid, and left her where she was hiding, refusing to come out. When he had summoned the Steward, he returned to her, but she was dead."

Turgon looked sharply at me. "Do you know who did it?"

"I suspect Maeglin, my King." I replied.

"And yet there is no proof. I shan't pretend I don't tire of your accusations, but please Glorfindel, have the sense to have undeniable proof when you lay blame." He snapped. I was hurt, but said nothing in reply.

"Where are Hurin and Huor?" Idril suddenly asked. I noticed with a bit of a shock that they were not present, and that I hadn't seen them all morning.

"I granted them leave, and Maeglin sent them away." That hit like a blow. I hadn't even had a chance to say farewell to them, Idril either. I would miss Huor dearly, and Hurin too. "Did you wish to send them away?" I asked.

"No, they wanted to go."

"But Maeglin orchestrated it 'on their behalf'." I let my anger show in my sarcasm.

"Yes, he did." I felt my heart plummet. He still saw no wrong in his sister-son!

"Tell me Turgon," I said coolly, "would you trust your sister-son with your fate and your kingdom more so than I?"

"You are not the heir, and I cannot choose between you." He said, not meeting my eyes.

I knew that he had chosen between us. And that, despite the fact that I would never lie to him or deceive him of ill will, he had chosen Maeglin. I was hurt, and more than that, afraid. If Maeglin killed him as Turgon had now unknowingly given him power to do, would I be allowed to take Idril and flee? Or would we both become slaves to his malice and yes, his lust, for I saw that he looked on Turgon with jealousy at times?

I turned on my heel without another word, and left the palace for my own house. Turgon did not stop me.

Chapter Thirteen:

The next murder was a week later, and it was Idril who informed me, having found the girl left at her door like a cat's offering. I had not been back to the palace since then, still angry and upset with Turgon, who had yet to summon me or attempt to make it right.
I went and saw how the girl was laid, and like before, her throat was slit and she was thoroughly debauched. I arranged for the grisly present to be taken care of. This girl, unlike the other, had an identity. She was of the house of the Fountain, because Idril had known her briefly before. Maeglin was hitting closer and closer to home, home being Idril. I went to talk with Ecthelion, not only to make burial arrangements, but for counsel.

He greeted me at his door and ushered me into his study, where I told him all that had happened, both between Turgon and I, and of the murders. He told me that Turgon had already asked for silence on the matter, intending to keep it hushed. I clenched my jaw at that, not liking secrecy, but it served its purpose.

"Glorfindel, I think it would be best if you just stayed out of this." He told me.

I looked him in the eye. "Why? What good does it do to do nothing?"

"More good than possibly incriminating yourself by trying to prove that Maeglin is the one doing it."

"But I know he is, and if I set myself up as bait and outthink him, I believe I can trick him into exposure."

"Glorfindel," He said gently, "I do not doubt your ability to outthink and outmaneuver him, but do you honestly think that Turgon will believe him guilty, deceived as he is?"

"No." I had to agree.

"Wait until you are in his favor again, you know he loves you and his anger cannot last long. I advise you be ready to forgive him when he is ready, and not to press him further than he will go. When he sees that, he will trust you enough to listen."

"Does he not trust me now?" The thought was heart wrenching.

"Turgon has never trusted well, and usually only one person at a time. He is wary by nature, and has never had so many to trust before. He does often make mistakes, but he cannot be forced to admit or correct them unless it is his idea to. You understand, don't you?" He said quickly, to reassure me.

"Yes." I agreed, knowing firsthand how he was. "But why does he trust so wrongly? If it were any other situation I would not be so keen to save him, but this misplaced trust may even cost him his life!"

"Valar help us all if Maeglin takes the throne." He said softly. "Do you think Maeglin would do so?"

"Why do you ask me? It is Idril who sees his heart."

"But you think as he does, and you are a man, so that will make your guess a little more accurate than her vision alone."

I thought for a moment. "I cannot say he thinks like I, or that I know what he thinks, but if I desired direct power instead of the indirect I joyfully hold; then yes, I would slay him. But Maeglin would rule with an iron fist after, to prevent the good people of Gondolin from protesting too much, or taking him from the throne, whereas I would appoint another into power so I could manipulate without being in full control."

"And that is the difference between you two, for although you are self-serving as he is, it is for the good of what you love, and with him it is for the good of himself." Ecthelion mused.

"Glorfindel, promise me this: If Turgon's throne does come to ruin, you will do what you can to save us." He asked earnestly.

I leaned forward and took his hand in a man's promise. "I have devoted myself to Gondolin as of now, be it doom or failure, and as I say, I will do, to the extent of my ability."

He smiled then, and I returned it.

"Now, go away Glorfindel, and leave me to my thoughts. When I decide what we shall do about the murders in the palace, I will come to you." He dismissed me cheerfully.

I left his house in high spirits; a burden shared was less heavy, indeed. At my house, there were a few small matters to be settled that kept me occupied for the duration of the day, including an audience with the ladies of the house, who desired to fit me for armor. Amused, I told them to make their preparations, and that I would allow them to fit me for it the next week, as I was hoping to settle the events in the palace before seeing to my own house, which was rather improper priorities, but my house was capable of leading itself, and if Turgon was going to be blind to his house, someone else would have to deal with it and I would not leave that burden to Idril alone.

That night I lay awake in bed, thinking of those two dead women. Suddenly, with clarity that surprised and angered me that I hadn't seen it before, I realized: They all looked like Idril.

Each of them had been a maiden, each had a little Vanyar blood so that she would look golden-haired in the dark, and each were close to Idril's dimensions. The most recent one had even been one of Idril's friends! I rose from my bed and paced. I could not run to Idril and save her, I 'had no proof'. No one else would listen, and perhaps if Idril knew, Maeglin would do it to her. No, I could not risk Idril. Turgon was also not an option. Ecthelion!

I was dressed and down the street before a quarter of an hour had passed, and at Ecthelion's door. As it was nine at night, still early yet for me but not the city, the steward of his house looked at me oddly, and told me that Lord Ecthelion had gone to bed. I pushed past him and went upstairs. He let me, knowing I meant no harm. I pounded on Ecthelion's bedroom door before entering, to give him fair warning, and found him nearly to the door when I stepped in. I was a little out of breath, and noted he looked startled and had not yet gone to bed.

"Glorfindel, what is it?" He asked.

"Idril, Ecthelion, Idril!" I said foolishly.

"What?" he asked.

I took a deep breath and composed myself as best I could. "The victims, they all looked like Idril. And this last was an acquaintance of hers."

He looked as alarmed as I felt. "We need to remove her from the palace as soon as it can be done. She must not stay under the same roof as he, if he is truly acting thus."

"Do you think Turgon will believe us, or will we have to act in secret?"

He looked at me long and hard. "Could you defy your king and lover, Glorfindel?"

"If I must."

"It may yet be required of you." He replied, and fell silent.

At last he spoke. "Go there, and tell her in secret what we have found, then come back here with her, if you can." I nodded, and left.

Idril, unsurprisingly, was still awake when I arrived. She seemed surprised to see me, but was more distressed tonight than I'd seen her ever be. I asked her of it, and she sent her maidens out before turning to me to speak. "Glorfindel, ever since you left the palace, he has been a terror to me."

Maeglin. "What has he said and done?" I asked.

"He corners me in the halls, and just looks at me and breathes on me...but at night, he assaults me."

"Assaults you?" I asked in alarm.

"He comes into my room, I don't know he gets there, but he lays on me - at first it was just beside me - and looks at me. I always pretend to be asleep. He has been getting braver...last night he actually rutted on me, and then this morning..." "We found the girl." I finished her sentence and took her in my arms. She was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm.

"Please, Glorfindel, I need a witness, someone to prove that this isn't just a nightmare, and you're the only one who looks so much like me...please?" She begged.

I kissed her brow. "Yes, alright. I'm so sorry Idril; I shouldn't have left, even if I was angry with Turgon. I'll find a way to get you out of here, I promise. Now, go and sleep in with your maidens, and I'll take your bed for the night." She nodded tearfully.

I darkened the room so that he wouldn't see my face by chance, and lay down. Her bed smelled sweet, like she did, and I fell asleep rather quickly. I woke, as promised, to the weight of a man laying on me. It was Maeglin; I could feel by the lines of his body. He touched my hair and face lightly, whispering. "Idril, sweet, lovely Idril..." He leaned forward and kissed me. I did not wince or kiss him back. His lips crept to mine, and dove inside. Taken unaware, I hadn't closed my jaw in time, and his tongue was inside my mouth. He pulled away. "Beautiful Idril, you taste so nice." He murmured, stroking my hair.

My hair wasn't as wavy as Idril's but I don't think he noticed. He adjusted himself atop me, and I could feel his erection on my hip. "I'd like to put it in you, cousin, but I think your father would notice your screams of bliss, and see how stiffly you walked in the morning, lovely." Urgh. This was his idea of bed talk? I'd been better seduced by a warg, and would rather have bedded the warg, too, fleas or no. "How about...instead..." He said, and I was aware of his hands creeping under the blanket. Well, one touch would find no breasts and a little extra in the package department, so I knocked his hands away.

He laughed softly. "So you're awake after all then, cousin. Why don't you open your eyes and kiss me back? I don't like it when you lay there like a loathsome slug." I made no reply. "Ah well. Your loss." He said at last, and began humping me, breathing heavily, face tucked into my neck. I endured it, and it did not take long. I felt sorry for Idril, this being one of the horrors she had endured. His scent, when he came, was heavy and metallic, deeply masculine and dark. "Mmmm." He noted, and kissed me again. This time my mouth was closed and stayed closed to him.

I didn't expect for him to go for my crotch again, but his hand was already there when he said, "Are you wet, dear cousin? Didn't you like it just a little bit?" And then his palm closed over me and I knew I was found out because he stiffened and went very still. I couldn't move for a moment, waiting to see what he'd do. "Why Idril!" He said and leaned on me, but found no breasts. With the speed of a striking snake, he pulled a knife and held it to my neck, and I returned the favor. "Drop the knife." He said, threatening with a little press of the blade. I pressed him back. He reached out with the other hand, and turned on a light.

Dazzled by it, he and I blinked stupidly at one another a moment. I focused on his dark eyes, dilated with recent passion, the sweat dampening his brow. He smirked. "Glorfindel. I had thought Idril more slight. No matter, you'll do just as well." He leaned forward, and would have kissed me again, but my second hand pressed a knife to his belly. "Get. Off." I commanded.

He did so, and sat on his heels next to me, putting away his knife. I glared at him.

"Do you honestly think anyone will believe you over me, Fin?" He asked.

My name isn't Fin, you bastard, I wanted to snap. Instead I said, "If you ever touch her again, I'll geld you."

He chuckled. "Maybe I won't touch her, then. Maybe I'll just fuck Turgon's bitch instead."

"Get out." I said evenly, voice dark with anger.

"Oh now Glorfindel, don't pretend you don't like laying with men like a girl. Spread 'em wide, let him at your man-pussy. I could show you a better time than he ever could."

I got out of the bed, incensed. Maeglin was simply obscene.

He walked nonchalantly to the door, laughing. "Some other time, then?" Came his sickly sweet, dark voice as he slid around the corner and slid down the hall. I resisted acting in anger, and considered my options.

I couldn't leave the palace. I couldn't go to Idril. Biting my lip, I fought with the idea of going and crawling in with Turgon, casting aside my pride and apologizing. No, I couldn't do that, too much was at stake, this was not just a lover's disagreement.

I lay back down, but didn't turn off the light. I didn't sleep again, either.

In the morning, I was dressed and sitting in the chair by the window when Idril came in. She looked worried. "Did he come in again?"

I nodded. There wasn't any more to be said, besides: "Get ready to take leave of here for a time. We're going to see Ecthelion, and then you may stay in my house. I'll arrange some kind of cover for you." She beamed brightly at me and I managed a smile, still upset by the events of the night. How had she stood it? Poor brave, sweet Idril.

After she packed up what she would need, we set out, not saying anything to anyone. I didn't even speak with Turgon. Once we got out in the hall, Idril clung to my side because of the dark. I stepped in something damp, and had a feeling I knew what it was. "Idril, fetch the lamp." I said. She went back, and returned with it. She gasped at the sight, and I sighed, having guessed. It was one of Idril's maidens, murdered and left in the hall. Most disturbing about her was, though she had been both raped and sodomized, her skin was still warm to the touch. Once for her and once for me, I thought darkly. "Maeglin, you bastard!" I said loudly, but there was no sound or motion in the hall. I held Idril tightly to me and half-drug her out. Turgon could keep his fucking secrecy and dispose of the corpse himself.

We went straight to Ecthelion's house. It was Ecthelion who answered the door when I knocked. "I expected you back last night!" He said.

"I'm sorry," I apologized "but I'll explain everything once you let us in without further display, as we haven't permission to be here." He let us in without another word, greeting Idril once we were inside.

"Ecthelion, we have much to tell you, and I think Idril should say her piece first."

Idril stepped over to one of the couches, and seated herself.

"Ecthelion, my father is deceived, and his house in ruins. It is no longer safe for me to remain, and by the grace of the Valar, Glorfindel has seen to my safety. Another of my maidens has died in my stead tonight, and I will have no more do the same. I beg you and Glorfindel to shelter me, even if I must wed one of you to escape my father's house and its terrors."

"Lady Idril, I would not wed thee." Ecthelion said quietly.

"Nor I, for you are like my sister, and I am bound to your father." I refused.

"Then find me an honorable way to live outside the palace, I beg you."

Ecthelion and I were silent a moment, thinking.

"Perhaps you could remain in Ecthelion's house under the guise of weaving tapestries with his maidens?" I suggested.

"It would not be believed, and my father would know it makes more sense for them to come to me in the palace, rather than I go to them." She replied.

"Lady Idril, are you skilled in the fitting and making of armor?" Ecthelion asked, sitting beside her. She nodded and he went on, "My armor does not need to be replaced, but as far as I know, Glorfindel has no proper suit of it."

"Aye, you do not, Glorfindel." She agreed, smiling at the solution. "But that will only buy us a week or two, while it is made."

"I might have come up with a solution by then, and if I have not, we could always stall until I can think of another way to spare you." I said.

"Glorfindel, Ecthelion, I am grateful to your generosity - without you I fear I should be lost."

Ecthelion rose, putting his hands together at his waist. "Well, I do not know how you two slept, but I slept not well. I have spare beds you are welcome to, and my hospitality will see you through until you feel ready to put our plan into motion." He bowed to us, and called for his steward.

Chapter Fourteen:

Thus I found myself naked before nearly fifty women of my house and Idril, being measured for armor. I kept my hands in front of me, blushing. Idril just laughed and bade me sit so she could measure my feet for shoes. The ladies truly were more into talking with one another rather than looking at me, and I would have been more comfortable with that, except that it was me they were talking about. If I didn't trust Idril so much, I might have accused her of forcing me into unnecessary exposure.
After they were done, taking most of the morning to map my dimensions, Idril gave me leave to dress, and bade me go, saying: "We have much work to do, and you will be in the way." I did as she requested, and went in search of Ecthelion, to see about a solution for Idril to stay away from her home.

When Ecthelion's steward answered the door, he informed me that Ecthelion was not at home, visiting Rog instead. I thanked the man, and wondered whether I should go and seek Ecthelion out or not, and as I was wandering toward home, it was Galdor who answered that question. He came upon me in the market and spoke to me from horseback. "I am on my way to Rog's house for a meal, do you want to come along?"

"Why it would be of interest to me?" I asked politely, not having been invited.

It was a reasonable request, and he replied, "The topic of discussion is Idril, and the events in the King's House, and that I thought it would be of special interest to you."

I agreed that it was so, and alighted on his horse behind him, as I did not know the way and he had offered.

Rog's house was a large one, not only in mass but also in population, I soon saw. Children wrestled on the garden lawn, their mothers sewing on the porch, as Galdor and I rode up. I dismounted and held the reins, and he led his horse away to the stable while I waited.

When he returned, we went indoors together and were greeted by Lord Rog. He was a tall elf, slender and doe-eyed as we all tended to be, but there was something to the saucy tilt of his jaw and his easygoing manner that endeared him to me. I felt quite comfortable in his house, and have often wondered, but have never found why I liked the man so much, other than his personality.

The meal was simple, yet plentiful, and when the women and children had eaten and politely slipped away from the table, we sat sipping our wine as Galdor opened the task of conversation.

"We have all met Maeglin, and most of us spoken to him. All of us here know what lurks within his eyes, windows to the chamber of darkness beyond. I fear he shall be pitfall to our King, who is blinded to his malice by love for his sister that remains for the son. Glorfindel has fallen from his grace for this very argument, and as Turgon wishes not to listen to any reason but his own, Rog and I have called this council to see what must be done."

Rog spoke up as Galdor paused.

"The recent events in the King's house have disturbed him very little if at all, surely he thinks them of small consequence. While the deaths are hushed to keep the city at peace, families mourn their lost daughters. Three women have died, all linked with our princess. Even if Turgon does not see this as a threat to his own daughter, I do, and I believe that some action must be taken - against Maeglin."

Galdor took up narrative again, inclining his head to Rog respectfully.

"Glorfindel and Ecthelion have seen to her safety after she was rescued from her suite, and she is now sheltered among the women of Glorfindel's house. This puts them both in a compromised position, both being unwed, and soon tongues will begin to slander them. I would not see my fellow Lord or our Lady brought low by gossip. Has anyone a suggested course of action?"

Ecthelion spoke up. "The Princess should be returned to her home as soon as is possible, but first it must be made safe for her to reside there. There is only one who can go easily into the palace and spy upon him."

All eyes turned toward me at this time.

I closed my eyes briefly. "I will do as is good for my city, but I do not wish to go back to him and bow upon the matter we have parted with."

Ecthelion looked at me sharply. "There is yet another that looks on you with desire there, Glorfindel. You know of whom I speak."

I closed my eyes again, to quell the rising unwillingness in me. "I would go, if this council deemed it necessary, and act the part, but only if my shame were unknown to all but those present."

"There is no alternative?" Rog asked.

"No." Galdor answered. "Ecthelion is right. There is no other who might be trusted so far, if he is trusted at all."

Ecthelion met my eyes. "Your shame will be the secret of this council."

Rog and Galdor nodded their agreement.

I sighed heavily. "Then I will go and seek Maeglin's services as sword smith, and be whatever use I can, at the bowing of my pride." I truly did not wish to do this thing, but I had made a promise, and what must be done must be done, and there was no other to take this burden, and no other I would rather bear it.

I stood, and bowed to them.

"This council is at a close." Rog said; then more softly, "I wish you well, Glorfindel."

Chapter Fifteen:

I could hear him in his forge as I walked up.
He was leaning over the flames, sweating, lips tight with focus on his chosen craft, sparks flying from the hot iron every time the hammer swung down. His black hair was tied back with a strip of silk; his bare chest gleamed in the light. I slipped in, seated myself on a bench behind him and watched quietly.

When the tool he was making took shape, a hoe, he was gentler with the metal, and sweat ran in rivulets down his back. The forge was ripe with the smell of heat, stale water, hot iron, flame, and his scent. When it was done, he plunged it into the barrel of water, causing steam to rise. Wiping his hands on his shirt, which dangled from a rafter, he turned to look at me from between his arms, the dark hair under them exposed.

"What is it you wish, Fin?" He asked lightly.

I found it hard to remember how dark he was inside, seeing him here, in his element, at his craft, for once peaceful and not coldly calculating against me and mine.

"Do not call me that." I requested.

"I'll call you what I like." He said, wiping his chest with the shirt. He eyed me shrewdly. "Why have you come, Glorfindel? Willing to take me up on my offer?"

"Which offer was that, Maeglin?" I asked icily.

He stepped close, far too close, and as I was sitting, he was looking down on me. He was warm. I was aware of just how improper, how cold was this thing I had been asked to do. I smiled serenely, showing none of my inner loathing. His eyebrows lifted in question.

"You once offered to make swords upon enquiry. Consider this a request." I told him.

"Swords, indeed." He said softly, stepping away. "Very well. What would you like?"

"I would like two swords. One a bit smaller, as it is a present for Idril." I thought a moment, then said also, "And a third, made with the first, a brother sword."

"And they are for?"

"For Turgon, and another."

His flirting mood dissipated with that statement. "Trying to buy back his favor? What a whore you are, Fin." He purred, barely audible. I did not reply, as I wanted nothing more than to snap at him 'Silence!', and that I must not do. I contented myself with thoughts of Idril, who was sweet and deserving of everything bought for her, at any cost.

He returned with three measuring rods. "Hold this." He handed me the largest. He eyed it, then handed me the second. With a nod to himself, he took both and put them away.

"Any particular designs in mind?" He asked sweetly.

"Yes, in fact." I replied, not trusting his judgment.

"There is parchment on that table, there. Draw it, and go."

I did as requested, brushing dirt off the paper before beginning. I named them with a flourish. Brother swords and a sister, which would be wonderful if Maeglin did as I asked. He brushed up against me as I was drawing Turgon's. "You need not buy *my* favor." He hissed stealthily in my ear.

I drew my knife and showed it to him. "You had best watch your tongue around me, or you shall lose it, along with anything else you lay upon or against me." He scowled disappointedly.

"I'm going to begin a collection of assorted body parts, I think. Would you care to make the first contribution, Maeglin?" I told him sharply, for I hated his roving hands with a passion.

He chuckled.

I finished my business, and left the forge. The fires flared as he pumped the bellows in my wake.
Chapter Sixteen:

I returned several times that week, to see my bidding done, that Maeglin might not go astray from the plans I had described. He never took action, despite his maliciousness and innuendoes, and I was above lowering myself to plead with him, or worse, to attract him purposely. It was all I could stomach to encourage him.
In two weeks, the bought time was up, and I took Idril with me to a second meeting at Rog's house. There it was decided that Ecthelion must return to Turgon his daughter, and I must go back to Turgon and release my own opinion of matters before him, and be welcomed back as an errant lover, to see to Idril's security, as Maeglin's attention had not wavered from her to me, as had been hoped.

The following morning, Maeglin brought the swords, finished and wrapped in soft leather, to my home. I notified Ecthelion that tonight we would return to the palace.

I spent the day at rest in my study, with Idril reading at my knee, her favorite place as of late. I did not wish to admit Turgon that he was right, because in my mind he was very wrong, to place Maeglin in higher esteem than I. But as Galdor had said to me as we left the night before; "Who else can bend their knees if not the King's own?"

At midafternoon Idril and I each went to our rooms, and I bathed and dressed in my finest. The women of my house also dressed in their finest, and took up the banners they had made as gifts to our king, having thoughtfully noted that the ones tied to the tower pinnacles were grown threadbare. The men bore gifts of the cooking by their ladies and lamps to light the way, and when Idril appeared with an entourage of maidens to attend her, we left the house in regal grace for Ecthelion's by twilight.

He came to his door, also dressed finely, and we walked together to the palace at the center of the city.

The People came out to watch, and threw flowers in our path, and sang. Every event was a celebration, they were glad to have another occasion to do as they pleased. Amredeth, my steward, filled me in on the story passing among them, and I laughed to hear such foolishness being spread instead of our true purpose - to deceive the King into our control. They were saying that the King's lover and his daughter had fallen in love, and were cast out in the King's anger, but when his wrath had cooled they were invited to return to his grace, that their love might be sheltered and honored.

By the time we reached the palace, they had heard of it, for news traveled fast in our city, and were in the gardens, waiting with Turgon at their head, Maeglin at his right hand.

"Turgon, my King." Ecthelion knelt, and Turgon laid a hand on his head. Ecthelion lifted up his face, and Turgon withdrew his hand.

"Why have you come?" He asked.

"I bring you thy daughter, see you that she is well and unharmed."

"I see her." Turgon said, and she stepped forward, hands extended in greeting. He took them, then embraced her.

"See also, your lover returns." Ecthelion said, rising to his feet and removing himself from between Turgon and I.

I did not take one knee before him, but two, and grasped his hand and held it to my face. "My Lord and King." I said, kissing his palm. I noticed Ecthelion was looking away, granting me honor despite my self-debasement. "I have brought you food and drink, that you may welcome your daughter home. I have also tapestries to adorn your house, and a gift to restore me to thy favor."

I gestured to the boy who held the swords, and he brought them to me, and laid them, wrapped, in my hands. I opened the leather, and revealed the shining metal, for once not hating Maeglin's utter existence, if he could create things of such beauty.

"This, my Lord," I said as I drew out his sword from its sheath and laid it in his open hands, "is Glamdring," Ignoring his awe for the present, as he probably itched to test it, he allowed me to tie the sheath to his belt, and I handed the old sword and sheath to the boy behind me. "And his brother, Orcrist." This one I tied to the belt of Maeglin as he held the second sword he had made. Maeglin smirked down at me kneeling at his feet; I did not look at him.

"And this," I said, presenting the third, hilt-first, to Idril, "is a my gift to your daughter, Hadhafang." She took it with a half-bow to me.

At this point, Turgon took my hands and pulled me up from my knees to my feet, and continued holding them in welcome. "Dine with me." He said, face shining with joy. I nodded to him in acceptance, and the people cheered as we went inside the King's halls.

After the meal, he drew me aside in the hall outside the dining room. "Has your return meant what I think it has?" He asked guardedly.

I bowed my head, not meeting his eyes, lest he see the lie in them. Let him think it shame. "I have spent time with Maeglin during the making of these swords," I touched the hilt of Glamdring, next to his hip. "And I have found that you were right, Turgon."

His hand came to rest against my cheek. "Then have no shame. Our fight is done, fights between us are only to be expected for staying together so long, or so Maeglin says." Whatever tenderness I'd felt building toward renewing our relationship was at this point chilled by that other's name. "Now Glorfindel," Turgon said, and kissed me. "Let us lie together as we have in the past, lovers only, with naught but trust between us."

I met his eyes and smiled, responding to his next kiss as he wrapped his arms around me. My heart felt coldened and empty, but I knew it would warm with our bond reaffirmed. "Yes, my love." I said quietly, enfolding him with my arms.

The sword Maeglin had made came between us, and we both pushed it away, him habitually, I fiercely.
Chapter Seventeen:

News came not often to Gondolin, and when it came, it was usually brought by the guards from the gate, who had gotten it from the eagles on Crissaegrim, or from the eagles themselves by way of landing on Ard-Galen and delivering their messages before taking flight once more.
It was seven years since Dagor Bragollach when we received word in the Hidden Kingdom of stirrings in the world outside.

Meadhros, son of Feanor had perceived the threat of Angband, and it's seeming dormancy, and knew there was trouble to come, and that it was not unassailable, for he had heard of the quest of Beren and Luthien. Thus he sent forth word all over Beleriand of standing to fight alongside him, but here his father's legacy undid his work, and there were some in regions of our world that would not heed him unto battle, and forebade their people from following also.

Upon this word Turgon acted not, and when word came that Meadhros had driven all the orcs out of the North, Turgon and Maeglin said to one another in my presence in the drawing room, "He has attacked too soon." And, "Surely now Morgoth has all the warning he needs."

I said nothing, as I was keeping scribe duty for them, and as Maeglin had once pointed out to me with spite, this required no speech. Loath though I was to obey Maeglin, I must to keep Turgon's favor, and besides, I had nothing to add that was unsaid.

Word came then, that Meadhros and Fingon had joined forces and made plans set for Midsummer, but of this Turgon said nothing to neither Maeglin nor I.

Chapter Eighteen:

A week before Midsummer Eve, I woke early, and watched him sleep, his hands draped lazily over his chest, rising with each movement.
I woke him by gently kissing each fingertip, for I loved him still with all my heart, and even were he blind, deaf and dumb I would not desert him for Maeglin's sake.

He smiled gently at me, and I gave him a kiss that started with easy abandon, and ended in fire. His hands on me turned hungry, arousing, and I arched and quivered with need, as he saw fit to bestow. He gave me release with his mouth, then turned me onto my belly and applied it liberally before sliding home inside me, pressed full length against my back.

We moaned in symphony, sympathy, as he rocked us slowly until my arousal built again, then took us both over together, screaming one another's names in a waterfall of kisses.

We lay together after, looking out the window at the sky, side-by-side, sweat drying.

"Turgon." I said quietly.

"Glorfindel."

Do you love Maeglin more than me? Do you give him this, what only you have ever given me? Do you think we did him wrong, so long ago? Is he really as bad as I think he is? Is he worse?

It was too much to say, so I didn't say enough. "I love you."

"I love you too." He took my hand clumsily.

We were silent for a long time. I thought he'd fallen asleep, almost did myself.

"Glorfindel." Softly, unsure.

"Yes?"

"I won't let my brother die." He said.

I knew what he was talking about, but I hadn't the faintest idea what he meant. Had we grown so far apart?

"I know." I replied.

He fell asleep then, and we didn't get out of bed until noon.

When we did, he and I took a quick breakfast, over which he told me to set my house in order, and to be ready for a summons this evening. I looked at him carefully, but there were no clues and he wouldn't say any more about it. I did not press him, but did as he asked.

At twilight, a messenger came to my door. I was ready, having been dressed and pacing since the sun began to set. I left with him.

I found the palace at assembly, all the Lords of all the Houses, both minor and major, were present but for myself and Rog, who came in the door even as I did. We bowed to Turgon, and took our seats.

"Lords of the Houses of Gondolin. You are aware that war is stirring outside the walls of our city. You are also aware that my brother, my only living relative, is to be present at what promises to be a bloody battle. You know as well as I what I plan to do by the calling of this council. I ask that the minor houses and my regent stay behind as I march to war at my brother's side, this Midsummer."

Turgon broke off at this point and looked at Ecthelion beside me, then met my eyes, taking up two cloaks of scarlet - the markings of captains. "Ecthelion of the Fountain, Glorfindel of the Golden Flower - will you serve as my captains?"

"Of course, my Lord." Ecthelion said, leaving his chair to kneel at Turgon's feet.

"Yes, My King." I said, and knelt beside Ecthelion.

"My dearest friend." Turgon said softly as he fitted Ecthelion's on him.

Then it was my turn, and the heavy garment swept regally onto my back even as he whispered, "You know I would not otherwise ask, my love."

"I live for you." I said, letting my tone echo the statement of this morning, that he be minded of it. His hands clasped the pin at my collarbones gently.

"Now rise, my Captains." He commanded us, and we did so, bowing to him before we took our seats.

"The rest of you who will, I ask you to set your affairs in order and ride with me at dawn tomorrow. We will meet at the Gates."

He bowed slightly to the assembled Lords; and left, Maeglin dragging at his heels, arguing in low tones that he be allowed to go along. With no more reason to stay, now that Turgon's brief word with us was done, we each separately set out for our homes. I avoided Ecthelion, Rog and Galdor, because I did not wish to be congratulated for my shaming, even with the best wishes in their hearts.

Chapter Nineteen:

The dawn was brisk and cold, both my breath and my horse's frosted the air. The men of my house walked afoot beside me, and we gathered a distance from the Gates, where the other Lords and houses waited.
Presently Turgon came, the disobedient Maeglin trailing along, and behind them the women of the city.

Silently, he led us out through the Gates, the guards standing aside. As we crossed Ard-Galen, our women thronged at the walls, a choking garden of beauty. Pennants and laces waved in the air in silent farewell, and stoically there were no tears, even though they knew not if we would return.

Idril stood at the head of them, but did not wave, lest Maeglin, who rode near Turgon, misunderstand. I gave her a final salute that did her justice without being weak. She saluted me back - one hand over her heart - then palm toward me. 'My love to you.' 'My heart goes with you.'

I turned to see who was looking, and beyond Maeglin's sneer, was Turgon's grateful, sad smile.

By noon we had left Echoriath, and by sunset, the main part of Crissaegrim lay before us, treacherous terrain at night - thus our leaving early to allow its travel by day. We made camp within sight of the eagles' roosts.

The end of the second day put Crissaegrim and the eagles behind us.

The third day put us into the river valley, and there on the banks of the Sirion we made formation, by Turgon's design. He was foremost, I at his left, Ecthelion at his right, and Maeglin behind him and between us, our hosts with us. Rog, Duilin, Egalmoth, and Galdor rode in the center and behind, as pleased them, and thus we made another day.

The fourth day we slowed our pace, as we wanted to be well rested for battle, so we did not go far that day, or the next.

That evening, after the men had settled and the hour was late and quiet, I stole down to Turgon's camp. He slept in his bedroll in the midst of his men, so I was cat-footed as I crept up on him, and silenced him as I shook him awake. It was not hard, then, to sly him out of the encampment and deep into the brush.

We kissed feveredly among the pines, decided we were too close to camp, and chased one another deeper into the forest over and over again. We were within hearing range of the river when one of our kisses got further than the point where we usually decided to run further, and he fell atop me in the thick pine needles.

It was very dark; I could barely see the contours of his face. I knew what he wanted, but it was not possible here, having nothing to ease the way. We didn't often have oral sex only, and this night it took some time before he was convinced I'd rather not just take him in hand, so I propped him against a tree, nuzzled his belly while unlacing his pants, and trapped his leg between mine.

With his hard cock freed and pointing darkly upward, I swallowed it with relish, not bothering to open my eyes, as it was too dark to see anything anyway, not that there was much to see. He moaned loudly and petted my hair all the while, and I rutted against his shin hungrily. When he came, gasping, I swallowed, and came thickly in my leggings.

He slid slowly down the tree, and took me in his arms. I tucked him back in as we sat there in the quiet. I was asleep when he shook me, getting up. I whimpered, and reached out for him as he stood, clinging to one of his legs when I found it. "Shh." He soothed. "It will look suspicious, my love, if we return together. I would not cause scandal."

I nodded and released him, seeing the wisdom of his statement. He bent down and tilted my chin up, kissing me again, then set off toward the camp.

I waited until a count of three hundred, and then set out after him.

All the way back when he had gone, the forest had been relatively quiet. Now, as I walked, it was quieter, yet soft steps kept coming behind me. I was being stalked, and knew better than to stop and alert it that I knew. What was it? I kept walking, listening carefully. Whatever it was, it walked on two legs. I kept walking, and then suddenly, it stopped.

I stopped too, and looked up into the trees. Dark eyes leaned into mine, less than a foot away.

"Maeglin." I said, somewhat relieved.

"You didn't hear me chasing you both. Neither of you were paying attention." He rebuked.

I blushed.

He leaned closer. "I can smell him on your breath." He said. "Mmmm."

I drew my knife. "You remember what I said before."

He smiled. "Better run on home to bed, Fin. Dawn comes early."

Then, with a flash of white teeth like a knife blade, he was gone.

I was cold all the way back to camp, and when I crawled into my warm bedroll, I shivered for long after.

Chapter Twenty:

On the sixth day, we took shelter in the foothills near the Sirion, and struck camp. For Turgon there was a tent, that he might have room to divine his purposes, but the rest of us slept out on the open ground near our horses in groups of houses.
I waited, once again, until all was dark and quiet, then crept into Turgon's camp. A border guard saw me, but said and did nothing, he knew I was trustworthy. Turgon's tent was dark and cold when I pushed aside the door flaps and padded in.

He lay curled in his blankets in the middle of the floor. I lay down beside him and put an arm around his waist. "Glorfindel?" He asked.

"Who else?" I asked, amused.

He smiled. "Was hoping you'd come."

I kissed him, he returned it. We lay together and kissed for a while, he pulled me under his blankets with him and undressed me. He reached for a bottle of oil at one point; I playfully licked his arm, his neck. He laughed, and the soft sounds of our loving continued.

I grunted and rubbed myself against his chest, up on my hands over his head, his fingers sliding in and out of me with slow thrusts. He leaned up and licked my belly, as his fingers vanished from my anatomy. I gasped when he raised me up, his hands on my hips, and lowered me down again so that he pierced me deeply.

I rode him in the fury of our copulation, cries involuntary, yet hushed by one another's mouths and hands. The laughter spilled over whatever dams we placed against it, however. I was laughing in gasps as I spurted on his belly, the warm fire of his own seed racing through me comfortingly.

He tucked me back against his chest, and I hid my face in his neck and chuckled. Tomorrow we would go to battle, tomorrow we might die. So far, we were having the best end party of the night. I didn't really fear death in his arms; nor he, I was sure, in mine.

We kissed for nearly and hour after, before I left, with a last few touches to his face and soft, wet, final kisses.

As I stepped amid the men of his hosts scattered around the tent to sleep, I realized they were awake and felt my happiness plummet a little.

They had heard.

And Maeglin would like to see me shamed, I thought. He doesn't even need to try, I do it all on my own.

Chapter Twenty-One:

The next morning the camp was up early, well before dawn, making preparations for battle.
We were forbidden to light fires, eat heavily, or drink anything but water, as we had the entire journey, but it was especially important now. Many of us left our bedrolls down for the wounded, to give the healers we had brought with us greater ease in caring for them. The rest were stacked neatly according to camps, that we might reclaim them after, if possible.

Armor was brought out, but not put on yet; it would not be done so until daybreak, lest we be overwhelmed by heat. Last minute repairs and such were made to it, and our swords were tested. Many among us sought solace for prayers.

I knew Turgon would call council of all the Lords, so I made myself rest before then, laying flat on my back with my eyes shut. I would need the strength later, I knew. I found that nothing could quell a man's dread of his first battle in that hour before I was summoned, when I purposely lay dormant, my preparations done. As I had only had about an hour or so's worth of sleep all in all, this was wise.

Just before the summons came, I got up, washed my face and hands, and braided my hair, which had grown nearly to my knees again, tying the end tightly with a strip of silk. I tied on my sword, and laid out my armor to be ready for me, it was lovely, the work of Idril and my ladies; the mail cleverly inlaid with gold, and the breastplate other pieces forged steel with gold overlay, as gold alone was not strong enough for battle.

I was tying my sword at my side when the messenger came, and I followed him through the camps to Turgon's tent.

I was ushered in, and took my place in the circle around the bare floor. Turgon sat quietly, unspeaking. I knew he was waiting for others, and a moment later, Duilin appeared. The air was chill, and the first rays of light were breaking through the trees, I saw, as he entered.

"My Lords," Turgon said, and paused. He appeared as nervous as I - forgetting what he had planned to say. "Today we go into the Fifth Battle. Let us pray it be the last, and Angband be conquered this day. Fingon and his armies are already in place, so my scouts report. Meadhros has not yet shown, not for the whole of the night. It is good that we came, and we must be ready to move, as he needs. I have no plans other than to be flexible to the ones Fingon has laid out."

"I knew he was not to be trusted." Ecthelion murmured quietly beside me, his lips barely moving. I put the back of my hand against his thigh. "No one under speaks the King, not even you and I. Show an example, Ecthelion." I rebuked.

He eyed me darkly, but I ignored him. It was a common symptom of pre-battle nerves, to be faithless and moody. I did not blame him for anything he said at this time.

Whatever the rest of Turgon's short speech had been, I had missed it in our exchange. Several of the Lords were rising, Galdor had already left.

When Egalmoth had gone, the last of them, and closed the tent flap behind him, Ecthelion and I were left with Turgon and Maeglin. "What was said between my captains?" Turgon asked mildly.

Seeing that Ecthelion was now being sullen and would not answer, I spoke instead. "Nothing of true consequence, my Lord. A few words between Captains without import behind them. I pray your forgiveness for the interruption."

He nodded to me. "You have it, Glorfindel."

Maeglin rolled his eyes behind Turgon, where he couldn't see. I looked away from him.

"Show me your swords." Turgon asked of us, and Ecthelion and I both handed them over, scabbards and all.

I knew my sheath was threadbare, and the handle loose on the blade - it had been Ecthelion's before mine. His was still relatively new, and Turgon seemed pleased with it when he handed it back to its owner. Mine however, he frowned upon. "I fear the handle would come loose from the blade in battle, Glorfindel." He took it and laid it aside, digging out his old one and handing it to me. "Bear this one, instead, it has many good years left in it."

I accepted it gratefully. "Thank you, Turgon."

He smiled at me.

"Now, go, and prepare for battle. As best I know, the challenge is set for dawn."

Ecthelion and I rose and went out. As I left, I heard Maeglin say 'Think you not we are being hasty, rushing into battles we know nothing of, simply because your brother is in them?"

Ecthelion and I were outside the tent by the time Turgon's angered answer came. "You know nothing of my purposes. Now get out, and do as I bade you."

Ecthelion and I looked at one another, I saw his jaw clench. Maeglin slunk out of the tent, leered at me, and swept off to his own camp.

I did not look at Ecthelion as I turned away, and went back to my own.

Chapter Twenty-Two:

With the dawn, every man was in place, armor shining in the sun, spears held high, swords at our sides. We waited in a breathless silence for Fingon's first move. It seemed an eternity before far off and faint; we heard the blast of trumpets.
Our host as one shifted on its feet, but Turgon stayed us with a hand signal - every eye was on him. "Not yet." Those close could hear him say. The rest simply obeyed.

We waited for the trumpets of the host of Meadhros, to see the banners waving high, the dust under their feet, anything. There was nothing at all, for perhaps forty minutes, as the trumpets continued, making the challenge upon Angband.

Turgon's eyes turned toward Thangorodrim, and ours with him, and we all saw dark smoke rise from it, and I felt both relief and terror that the enemy had accepted the challenge to battle. My eyes went to Turgon, and the fierce look on his face gave me strength, courage, minded me of the scarlet cloak on my back, that men saw from afar and looked to for direction.

"Meadhros is not coming." The murmur spread throughout our host with the speed of wind.

When it reached Turgon, he turned his horse to face us. "He cannot stand alone, his strength may be mighty, but there is not enough yet to assail Angband. We must move!" He shouted, and turned his horse and we set out at a fast walk to join Fingon's host, which the forefront of was now was emerging from where they had hidden themselves, to hold reserves in secret.

Ten thousand of us, we rode at that pace, and when we came into sight of them, we were awed at their number, as they were ours.

From afar we heard the cry: "The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men, the day has come!" This chant was taken up by the host of Fingon, and when we heard it clearly, Turgon answered, "The night is passing!" Which also we took up, furthering his voice.

When the hosts met, Ecthelion and I with Turgon were gathered into the thick of it, amid Men and Elves, and Turgon leapt down from his horse and embraced his brother, while Ecthelion and I remained mounted, until that is, blonde hair appeared at my knee, and I was tugged down by the leg into Huor's arms. He and his brother both embraced me joyfully - Hurin was short and strong as ever, and Huor grown to manhood in our absence, fuzzy down on his jaw denoting this status.

Then Turgon pulled me forward, along with Ecthelion who had dismounted, and introduced us as his captains to his brother. Fingon looked like Turgon, but older, with a few small inches greater height. He saw what was between Turgon and I, and his bow to me was warmer than need be.

After our welcome, our horses were taken away, as none of the other captains among Fingon's host had them, fearing it would make for greater targets.

Now we turned our attention back to the battle at hand, even as Fingon directed the hosts of Gondolin into reserve and flanks guard, as need be.

The sharpest-eyed among us were the first to see the hosts of Angband slinking over the barren plain of Angfauglith, dressed to match the area, with nothing to catch the sunlight and betray them. We would have fought them there on the plain, but Hurin, with his wise head for battle and quick tongue convinced us to remain where we were, lest it be a trap, for he said: "Beware the guile of Morgoth, whose strength is always greater than it seems, and his purpose other than he reveals."

And so we stood our ground, and waited, but Meadhros did not appear. Again, we wished to strike blades with our foes, but again Hurin advised Fingon and Turgon to hold ground, and let them break themselves over the hills, and be winded when they reached us and not the other way.

At the far end, along the banks of the Sirion, the hosts of the enemy had drawn even with ours, and they were close enough to see one another's eyes, and the orcs called out taunts, but our men held their ground and gripped their swords and spears, and made no answer, nor charged forth, for they had not been commanded.

Messengers flew up and down the line, and of the tactics of the enemy to anger us was one of the most dreadful I had yet heard in that time, for they had brought forth a prisoner, known to the Men in our company, and hewed off his hands and feet, then his head, and left him there in front of our host. Despite Turgon and Fingon's orders not to retaliate, the Men charged forth and slew those who had done it, and dove into the main host.

Our line of defense broken, Turgon and Fingon saw that this was the time to act, and Fingon put on his helm and ordered the trumpets, and with that his host charged forth, leaving Turgon and the reserves behind to hold our ground.

They flew forward over the sands, and fought to the very gates of Angband, and the day was long and filled with blood. The Gondolindrim and those who stayed as reserves shifted uneasily, and slew those who charged us, and as the sun began to set and Fingon had not returned, a large band of orcs took advantage and attacked us, and the fighting was thick, and I drew my first blood and had my very first taste of battle.

I fought back to back with Galdor and Ecthelion to protect our King, and it was very hot where we were crowded close, several times I hit elbows with Turgon while defending him. An Orc slipped past all guard, and even though he was dead before his blow fell, his aim was true and his axe broke the nosegaurd of Turgon's helm.

I took Turgon by the shoulders and turned him to face me in terror, and wiped away the blood I found there flowing. The bridge of his nose was sliced cleanly, but it had been a straight cut and would likely heal without more than a ridge across his nose. His nosegaurd was worthless, I snapped off the bits of metal that were left, lest they cause more damage, and lacking anything better, wiped the blood away with my hair.

"How do I look?" He dared asked me cheekily in the midst of battle.

"Terrible!" I answered, smiling in relief that he was so narrowly unhurt.

We moved aside to avoid Rog's swinging arm, bearing a mighty hammer. Turgon wiped off some of the black Orc blood from my breastplate and looked at his reflection.

"Well, I never was much of a beauty." He said. "You're enough for both of us, I suppose. Back to the fight!" He grinned rakishly.

I shook my head at him, and stuck close for the remainder of the skirmish, but the battle died down after that point considerably.

We kicked the Orcish corpses aside, and waited for Fingon's return, taking turns at sitting to rest all the night. We could hear distantly the sounds of battle in early evening, but by midnight all was quiet but for the breathing of our guards and orcs running past, messengers on their way to wherever. We kept low in the front lines, to allow the archers to pick them off if they could in the dark, and a surprising number fell in the night to arrow wounds.

At dawn he could wait no longer, his worry for his brother was such that he ordered us up onto our feet, and we left the ground we were to hold, with only a remainder of our reserves behind, enough to stand against a few attacks such as the one last night.

We found Fingon and his host nearly to Ered Wethrin, and they were surrounded and evenly numbered when we approached. We dove into battle, the house of the Fountain and the house of the Tree leading, while the house of the King and the Golden Flower guarded Turgon and I valiantly. They cut aside the masses, and gave us clear path, and soon we were at the side of Fingon, and with him was Hurin and Huor still, we were glad to see them.

We began to fight our way back to the reserves with this added strength, and just as we were making progress beneath the hot noonday sun, the trumpets of Meadhros were at last heard, and we beheld him coming from the east, and were glad to see even their banners. They enfolded us with their ranks, and we might have won the day then, for already the orcs attacking us wavered in their onslaught, and many were now turning to flee.

Then, as we made haste back to the mouth of Sirion, Angband was emptied, and the very bowels of that hell unleashed upon us. There came Wargs, and Wargriders, Balrogs and dragons, and the much-famed Glaurung father of dragons. They cut us to pieces from the outside, and when Glaurung swept up between the ranks of Meadhros and Fingon, they were parted.

Now the Easterlings among us fled, and those with the sons of Feanor turned on them, and began to attack from their unprotected back. Under the assault from these three sides the host of Meadhros broke and fled, seeing their only chance for survival, they gathered together as many hale as they could find, and retreated the battle toward the mountains in the east, no longer being in any condition to fight.

The dwarves who had come with them from the east also fought bravely, and withstood the fires of the dragons best, and wounded them, so that they fled in dismay back to Angband. Their leader was killed in this attack, and the dwarves paid no more heed to the battle or the foes after this, loyal only to their own, and they bore him up and returned to their home, and none dared stay them, not while battle was hot, and not after having seen them fight.

Balrogs had fallen upon us in the meantime, and before we could see their plans, they had driven a wedge between our forces, surrounding Fingon and forcing him toward the Fen of Serech. I had to hold Turgon back by bodily force, sheathing my sword, to prevent him charging madly to his brother's defense, hoping to hold him long enough that he would see that he was of no use in aid at this time.

We watched in horror in the midst of our fighting allies as Fingon stood alone amid his dead guard and fought the leader of them, while another came up behind him and cast it's whip about him. Then the first hewed him with his axe, and white flame sprang up from the helm of Fingon as it was cloven. Turgon screamed as they beat him into the dust, the High King of the Noldor.

Hurin and Huor stood still with us, having been among the Gondolindrim as we were parted, and we yet fought for the Pass of Sirion with violence and much loss to the enemy's side. Hurin looked away from the sight of Fingon's death, and Turgon turned his eyes to him, but I did not release him, and Ecthelion stood at hand to restrain him yet.

Hurin said, "Go now, Lord, while there is still time. For in you lives the last hope of the Eldar, and while Gondolin stands Morgoth shall still know fear in his heart."

Turgon replied, "Not long now can Gondolin be hidden; and being discovered it must fall."

Then Huor beside his brother said, "Yet if it stands but a little while, then out of your house shall come the hope of Elves and Men. This I say to you, lord, with the eyes of death: though we part here forever, and I shall not look upon your white walls again, from you and from me a new star shall arise. Farewell!"

Turgon did not wish to go, but I knew he was considering it, and I knew that Hurin's words were true - only now while there was still time did we have a chance at flight. I looked around me to anyone who could convince Turgon to take their advice, anyone. Ecthelion's eyes were averted, and Maeglin stood dispassionately to one side. I looked at him with pleading eyes, and he turned away from me.

At length Turgon fought to be free of me, and I released him warily. He leaned forward, and bowed low to Hurin and Huor, then turned to Ecthelion and I. "We retreat. Hurin and Huor will hold the pass behind us, and you will guard the flanks."

I embraced Hurin and Huor farewell, told them that I would tell Idril I had seen them, and send along their love and memory, then went to do my King's bidding.

With the Golden Flower I held the right of our host, and our feet were in the river as we killed the orcs that would pass us by and ambush us ahead. Several times my men had to shoot with arrows the messengers on the banks, in the thick brush there.

Ecthelion had the left side, and the Fountain's swords clanged constantly as they destroyed assailants from the cliff face, or those climbing along it to get ahead.

At last we outpaced them, and came to our camp, and there the wounded were given care, and the rest of us given drink and rest. I went into Turgon's tent with him, and none argued, and Maeglin followed with us, saying it was to guard us if need be, and all three of us lay on the ground in full armor, our weapons at our sides, and slept in the dirt with exhaustion.

We woke again when day ended, and the cool of the evening chilled us awake. Maeglin and I slept with Turgon between us, and both stirred when he was the first to rise.

Our joints felt feverish and sore as we rose, and Maeglin left the tent before Turgon and I removed one another's armor and dropped it on the floor before going out barefoot and in our leggings and tunics, stiff with dried sweat and dirt and blood from the long battle. We went down to the river, where many of our company were, and bathed and soaked. My hair was filthy, matted with blood and dirt.

Turgon and I held our breath and anchored ourselves with weeds to the bottom of the river to let the dirt soak off us, then scrubbed each other briskly with sand.

When we were clean, we went back up to the tent, and I brought my bed there, and after we ate, we slept again, until nearly noon of the next day.

Chapter Twenty-Three:

This day's task was to number our men, and to account for them. I had many wounded, but few missing utterly or known dead. They were scattered all over the camp, and healers bustled busily like bees between the rows of wounded and their bags of supplies. For dinner was horse meat and water with wine in it, as no one felt like hunting and the water alone would make some of the men who had overexerted themselves in the heat sick.
At sunset, after I had eaten, I went to stand at the river. We would not mourn until we reached Gondolin, then we would mourn with our women for those lost. Hurin and Huor were surely dead, I thought, with sorrow.

I tried thinking of something else, the peaceful beauty of the river, anything. With a sigh, I walked down the grassy knoll and knelt at the water's edge, lifting a handful of it to wash my face.

I saw that it was growing dark, and turned back toward the shore. I caught sight of a lean, dark figure ducking back quickly into the shadows. Maeglin? I wondered. An Orc spy? Whatever it was, the guards ought to know of it. We weren't to be prowling around beyond camp borders anyway. I started back for camp, taking the shorter path through the forest.

Once again, I heard someone following me, so I pointedly lay a hand on my knife and kept walking. Maeglin, if it were he, would understand that threat. A particularly loud crash sounded behind me, and I whirled to find the forest silent and still. It was very dark.

I took a step forward again, turning, and walked into something warm, solid and definitely not a tree. Maeglin's arms caught me, and pushed me back against the trunk of a nearby oak, then held me there with his lean, hard, body. I struggled against him.

Maeglin's hand pulled my knife from me, and he leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Why are you out here alone?"

"I'll do as I please." I snapped.

"As will I." He replied darkly, and his fingers brushed my mouth, rubbed my lips.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

"Whatever I want." Maeglin answered, slipping his first finger into my mouth, rubbing the damp onto my lips. He reached further inside, and stroked my tongue. I briefly considered biting, but couldn't bring myself to.

Maeglin tasted of earth and metal and salt. After a moment, he leaned more heavily against me. His other hand cupped the erection I didn't know I'd had, until that very moment. He opened my breeches, I fought him a bit, and he withdrew his finger from my mouth, and replaced it with his own.

It was nothing like that night he had thought I was Idril. Pure heat, dark desire, rival hatred and the flavor of metal. I was coming into his hand, flushed with shame, before I knew what was happening, sucking passively on Maeglin's thrusting tongue.

Maeglin put his hand to his face, breaking off our kiss, and cleaned it leisurely, to my disgust. I let my lashes flicker, lustfully, derisively; swirling with mixed emotions.

"Run away, little Fin." Maeglin said.

"I hate you." I managed.

He smiled. "I hate you too." He countered, tracing my jaw with his fingertips, kissing me softly beside the mouth. I closed my eyes.

He stepped back, and I fled, stumbling, shaking and distraught; dressing myself haphazardly.

When I got back to camp, I forced myself to breathe normally, lest anyone suspect, and paced uneasily outside Turgon's tent, trying to compose my racing emotions.

When I felt calm enough to go inside, Turgon looked up at me from his armor spread out on his lap.

"Where were you?"

"Washing." I lied.

"Ah." He went back to fiddling with his helm.

"Turgon," I said, sitting next to him and taking the parts away, "Will you mark me as yours?"

"Why?" He asked. He was so sweet, so innocently charming. How could I tell him I'd just come in a stranger's hand, not just any stranger, but one I held rivalry with, hated?

"Because I need the protection of your claim."

"What mark would you have of me?"

I glanced around him, saw his chipped signet ring on his hand. "Your ring, in my ear."

He sighed, he'd been procrastinating replacing that ring for years. "Bring the salve, so that it will be healed before the march tomorrow."

I smiled at him gratefully, and went and got the small pot. He took out his knife, cleaned it, and took off his ring and cleaned that too. I sat at his feet as he knelt over me, and he turned my head to have full access to my right ear. He slit the lobe from the side down to the center - it didn't hurt or bleed too much. He set the ring in the gash, and smeared salve all over, then held it while it bled and scabbed over.

When it was solid enough to release, he did so, and motioned me to lie down. I did as he requested, on my left side.

He blew out the lamp, and lay down beside me, face to face. We kissed leisurely, and I ran my fingertip across the cut on his nose, making him smile.

This night was the first time I had ever lied to him. Maeglin was the only person other than Turgon who had ever made me feel pleasure. And just as before, when we had fought and were estranged, Maeglin had come between us.

"I love you." I whispered.

"I love you too." He said.

Then I let him kiss me.

Chapter End Notes

It was at this point I left off and did not complete the story for another five years. May I be forgiven!

Chapter One:
We had fared battle well, I mused as we passed through the Gates, our men's feet lighter for hearing the singing and cheering of our women awaiting us in the city. Few were wounded, and fewer yet were missing or known dead. Most of us were returning wearier and a little more experience than when we had left. I was among those who had first tasted battle in Nirnaneth Arnoniead - as it would later be called by the historians - who made up perhaps two-thirds of our number.

I walked at Turgon's side, with Rog and Galdor. Our men trailed behind us - eager to return to their homes. Turgon was the only one of us not afoot, somehow we had managed to find a horse for him. My own feet were sore, my arms tired from bearing my spear home along with another's who was wounded and unable to carry his own. My calves ached from yesterday, when it was my turn to carry the end of a stretcher with a wounded man upon it. He was grateful to be borne, and so I had not minded too much then.

The cut on my left forearm from a stray arrow was mildly inflamed, but I was not concerned about where it was hot and swollen. Battlefield salve might cure many wounds, but not all. Turgon's nose was beginning to heal quite nicely, due to his vain reapplication of salve twice daily. I pointed out to him that all the salve in the world could not make him beautiful, but surely Idril wouldn't mind too much?

For that, I was cast out of his bedroll in the middle of the night, which was when I had been so imprudent to have stated it.

I repented later, and was forgiven my transgression.

The day was bright and mild, two weeks after we had left here; as we had made better time returning than going, as going we had to be careful to keep the men fresh for battle, and there were no such restraints now. Our women had decorated in our absence to keep their hands busy from worry, and banners waved from the roofs of every house in sight. Likewise, they were well-dressed, I noted, as we entered the city itself.

Apparently our return was an occasion for feasting as well as mourning, for the smells were all around, and all our hungers were filled within moments of being embraced by Gondolin. We had beautiful women, wonderful food and drink, and were invited to rest. Turgon hadn't any addresses to make, other than to say:

"Go, and have my blessing."

And with that, our ranks broke, and men were everywhere, embracing wives, playing with children, going into the house courtyards for meals, calling out to one another invitations to feasts. Turgon dismounted, and distracted, I caught an armful of soft, sinewy warmth, with pleasant curves that tucked herself into a tight hug around my neck. I buried my face in the long wavy golden hair that I recognized, and wrapped my arms tightly around her slim waist. "Idril!" I laughed. She kissed my neck and let me go, leaping atop her father in much the same way.

Ecthelion stood to one side, smiling pleasedly. Maeglin glowered from where he stood, holding the horse's head. Turgon took her hand and mine and would have taken us to the palace to eat, but I caught him. "Turgon, why don't you eat with me? I'm sure your house can join, our grounds are large and gardens spacious."

He looked at me as if I were brilliant. "Yes, they are, aren't they? So we shall. Maeglin, Ecthelion - would you join us as well?"

"Certainly." Ecthelion bowed in a courtly manner and departed.

Not to be shown up by Ecthelion, Maeglin purred, "Of course, my Lords." He scurried off to gather his house.

Idril looked over at me, and her lips tightened, but she gave no other sign of distaste at Maeglin's having been invited. Tired though I was, I figured he would be easiest to deal with on my territory, thus on my terms, and with my friends all about.

We went to my house, and were greeted eagerly. Not moments later, as Turgon and Idril and I scurried right alongside my men and their women, children playing underfoot Ecthelion reappeared, with his house in tow, bringing along their own feast.

They were welcomed warmly, and soon the terraces and balconies and gardens were full of people, as Turgon's house arrived, bearing platters that made the tables creak. Maeglin's house came next, surly and dark, the women dirty and the children beasts of rotten temper. They brought little, and carried away more, afterwards, and we let them have it, with our blessings.

We ate, and then the tales and lays began, of our deeds, and heavily laden with the stories of the fallen, and their fates. We wept even as we smiled, and when the sun set the lamps were lit, and the Houses' gardens shone aglow, everywhere there were folk gathered beneath the starlight.

The children piled on one another to sleep like puppies in the grass, until their mothers realized with a start how late the hour had grown, and woke them to herd them home. The men remained for more wine, and the companionship of our fellows who understood the losses more truly than the women did, however kind creatures they were.

Drunken, they parted ways and stumbled home, filling the streets with songs both sad and brave.

When the last had gone, Turgon and I stood in the wreckage of my gardens, and saw the swaying, bobbing lanterns home. Then we stood there longer, and he drew me against his chest, leaning on the stone walls, and we admired the glittering stars at length.

I grew cold, and pulled my cape tighter around me, the scarlet a purple black in the starlight.

"Should we go in?" He asked me, voice slurred with exhaustion and wine.

"Yes." I answered back sleepily, and left the warmth of his embrace, taking his hand and pulling him along behind me.

***

We lay in the bed, face to face, looking into one another's eyes, sharing intimacy. I trailed my fingertips across the scab on his nose.

"I was so afraid, in that moment, that I'd lost you."

Turgon smiled, and toyed with the turquoise necklace on my chest. "And never was I so glad to see your face." He smiled gently, then frowned. "This is fading. Twice you have repaired it this decade. Would you ask a replacement of me?" He asked, seeking my eyes with his.

"No. Always my first. I would have no other." I reassured him of my love.

He smiled hesitantly.

I kissed him, and pulled him atop me.

Our passion rose like sparks from a fire, and like the skittering, licking flames we touched, embraced, caressed. I rejoiced in all the sensations, reveled in giving him pleasure. We kissed, and I thrust between his thighs, taking our time, looking into each other's eyes.

When our passions had risen enough that we could no longer deny release, he moaned quietly, hot, intense; and I tucked my head low against his neck and groaned, brimming with my love for him, spilling both physically and emotionally. My breath caught, and panting, I would have sobbed, but for I did not know why I craved to do so, and I feared my urge to so much that I resisted.

I lay forward on his chest, my weight to one side, and turned my face away from him.

"Are you quite sure, Fin?" He asked gently, after a moment.

I closed my eyes against the pain that nickname caused me. "Yes, my dearest." I answered.

"Why would you ask this pledge of me?" His fingers traced my pierced ear.

"I cannot say." I answered, my guard rising.

"Cannot, or will not?"

I tensed. "Mustn’t; my love." I turned and pulled his head down onto my chest gently, stroking his hair through my fingers.

He did not press me further.

Chapter Two:
The battle was two and a half years behind us when we got news of the outside world once more.
After the retreat from the fight, the sons of Feanor fled many ways, and many peoples fled to Doriath, and to the Havens. Morgoth sent forth his orcs after them, and ravaged all within their reach. The Havens also were laid in ruin, and the people of Cirdan were slain or enslaved, but many escaped by ship to the Isle of Balar and rebuilt for themselves security.

Now, when Turgon heard this, he became concerned, and gathered up seven men, volunteers only, in secret, from the noble houses. None from my House went, but those chosen he sent to Cirdan after a letter by messenger, and on seven light, fast ships sent them out onto the sea into the West. He had done this once before, I learned, long ago; before his father's death. None had ever returned, and no word ever came of them again.

It was twenty one years before we became involved with the world once more.

And during that time, Gondolin slumbered in the state that she was in, and for a long time, things were much the same as before our leaving, but for the wounds taken that yet healed, and mourning songs still sung.

Turgon's dreams began again, and preceded the events to follow later. His manners also grew strange; he would wander awake by night through his city, running his hands over the smooth stone, sitting in his gardens to watch the doves sleep. And I feared for him, because this was what elves in mourning did when they faded away to nothing. They grew fond of life like an old creature dying, and wasted, wraithlike, neither sleeping nor eating, until peace came to them at last.

I feared for him.

Chapter Three:
It had just passed noon one day in early summer, and I was keeping scribe duty for Turgon and Meaglin once more, my hair tied back and my fingers smudged with ink, while I listened to them argue and describe plans for the renovation of the market center, which was needing to be replaced once more.

A tumult rose up from the city, and a messenger entered the chamber swiftly. "My King, the guards of the Gate come, and the trumpets are blown, and they bring to you prisoners who found entry by the Hidden Way."

Turgon stood, and Maeglin also rose, and they departed swiftly. I also made haste, ink besmudged and scruffy or no, after them.

At the top of the steps down into the gardens Turgon paused, Maeglin beside him, for the throng of guardsmen and people were already gathered hence. I stepped up beside Turgon and gazed in wonder at the tall Man dressed all in skins, wearing a cloak whose majesty we had never seen, and beneath it, elvish armor - indeed Turgon's own, that he previously had left in Nearest at Ulmo's bidding - rough, bearded, and his guide: an elf who might have once been of our kin, but had long taken on the looks of a wanderer and thrall.

Turgon seemed to know this Man, and even I felt the sight of him familiar, even though I had not but met Huor and Hurin in all my time. Indeed, he bore resemblance to them both, but more so Huor, in that he was tall.

The Man was gazing up quietly at the King's tower above us, squinting against the glare of the sun. I followed his stare, and beheld Idril standing at the window of her room, her handmaids beside her, looking below. Idril leant gently against the sill as I watched, her eyes on the Man.

Turgon spoke, and said, regaining the Man's attention; "Welcome, Tuor of the Land of Shadows. Thy coming was set in our books of wisdom, and it has been written that there would come to pass many great things in the homes of the Gondothlim when thou came hither."

Then Tuor replied, and I recognized his name as that the son of Huor, and Turgon's words as reference to the notes he had penned after returning home from the battle. "Behold, o father of the City of Stone, I am bidden by him who maketh deep music in the sea, and who knoweth the minds of Elves and Men, to say unto thee that the days of Release draw nigh. There have come to the ears of Ulmo whispers of your dwelling and your hill of vigilance against the evil of Melkor, and he is glad: but his heart is wroth and the hearts of the Valar are angered who sit in the mountains of Taniquetil, seeing the sorrow of the thralldom of the Noldoli and the wanderings of Men; for Melkor ringeth them in the Land of Shadows beyond hills of iron. Therefore have I been brought by a secret way to bid you number your hosts and prepare for battle, for the time is ripe."

Turgon's shoulders squared stubbornly, and he replied; "That I will not do, though it be The words of Ulmo and all the Valar. I will not adventure this my people against the terror of the Orcs, nor imperil my city against the fire of Melkor."

"Nay, if thou dost not now fare greatly then will the Orcs dwell for ever and possess in the end most of the mountains of the Earth, and cease not to trouble both Elves and Men, even though by other means the Valar contrive hereafter to release the Noldoli; but if thou trust now to the Valar, though terrible the encounter, then shall the Orcs fall, and Melkor's power be minished to a little thing. " Tuor answered him.

Turgon took one step down, and drew himself up passionately. "I am King of Gondolin, and no will should force me against my counsel to imperil the dear labor of long ages gone."

"Then I am bidden to say that men of the Gondothlim," Tuor looked about him at the crowd, "repair swiftly and secretly down the river Sirion to the sea, and there build them boats and go seek back to Valinor: lo! the paths thereto are forgotten and the highways faded from the world, and the seas and mountains are about it, yet still dwell there the Elves on the hill of Kor and the Gods sit in Valinor, though their mirth is minished for sorrow and fear of Melkor, and they hide their land and weave about it inaccessible magic that no evil come to its shores. Yet still might thy messengers win there and turn their hearts that they rise in wrath and smite Melkor, and destroy the Hells of Iron that he has wrought beneath the Mountains of Darkness."

Angry that Tuor might turn to his people rather than he, Turgon spoke loudly, with irritation and mockery in his tone. "Every year at the lifting of winter have messengers repaired swiftly and by stealth down the river that is called Sirion to the coasts of the Great Sea, and there builded them boats whereto have swans and gulls been harnessed or the strong wings of the wind, and these have sought back beyond the moon and sun to Valinor; but the paths thereto are forgotten, and the highways faded from the world, and the seas and mountains are about it, and they that sit  within in mirth reck little of the dread of Melkor, or the sorrow of the world, but hide their land and weave about it inaccessible magic, that no tidings of evil come ever to their ears. Nay, enough of my people have for years untold gone out to the wide waters never to return, but have perished in the deep places or wander now lost in the shadows that have no paths; and at the coming of next year no more shall fare to the sea, but rather will we trust to ourselves and our city for the warding off of Melkor; and thereto have the Valar been of scant help aforetime."

With that, he made a sweeping gesture to dismiss all but the head guardsmen, and seated himself on the top step as if weary, putting his face in his hands and rubbing his brow. I looked warily at Maeglin, this was the first I had ever heard of Turgon sending out men of our people beyond the twice I had known of - the seven recently and those I had been told of years after.

Maeglin met my eyes for but a moment, then shifted his away.

No doubt, he was the reason I had heard very little of anything.

Tuor also sat, on the edge of the fountain, and turned his eyes to the ground and said nothing more. His guide sat gracefully at his feet, back to the stone of the fountain, and pulled his knees up to hide his face. I stood beside my lover for a great length of time, and at last he brought up his head, and looked to where Tuor sat, and Voronwe his guide.

Heaving a great heavy sigh, Turgon rose and gracefully went down the steps. When his shadow fell upon Voronwe, Tuor raised up his head, and Turgon said to him, "Stay with me, and be of my favor, dwell even in my halls with me, if you would."

To this Tuor answered, "I would."

And it was so.

Chapter Four:
“Tuor, you fool!” Idril screeched as Tuor thundered past, passing very near to her, startling her mount.
But she was smiling.
It was a lovely day, and we had gone out riding on the plains of Tumladen, enjoying the crisp fall wind that whipped at our hair. From the first, Tuor had been at the mercy of Idril’s affections, as even had I. But I might dare to tease her, and he was more daring than I. He seemed to know when he pushed his limits, yet at the same time, it seemed that to Idril, he could never reach them. We all had grown to love him. He had been here for but a turning of the seasons, and it felt as if he had been here all along.
He was like unto the brother I had never had. Ecthelion was my dearly beloved teacher and playmate, but Tuor surpassed him in the nearness to my heart. His step had grown lighter, his look less grieved, since he had come; as if some great healing had taken place here. He was not the only one who glowed brighter, however.
Idril had never been so happy in all the time I had seen her. She was beginning to know the greatest joy of her long life.
Laughing, she spurred her horse, catching even with him ahead. They beat each other with twigs, dropping the reigns, laughing profusely. Their joy was contagious, but I felt as if I were an extra wheel on a fast cart. Nowhere to go, yet unable to leave. It was disconcerting, but if they were to notice me, all would be well again.
They had a tendency to do that, forget that I was there.
It wasn’t like the deep, fiery love I had for Turgon that encompassed my soul. It was something else, the love between a man and a woman.  I could watch them, or I could simply ride away quietly and find the one to whom my life was devoted.
I chose the latter.
I found him alone in his office, parchments before him, a quill in his hand, perusing matters of state. He was gazing out the window at the sky, lost in a daydream. I brushed past his desk, and seated myself in his lap, treating him to some unexpected attention. He murmured appreciation, something akin to “What has gotten into you?” And I proceeded to attempt to smother him.
Why watch Idril and Tuor flirt and play and never get around to kissing, when I could go straight home and get what I wanted immediately?
Life in the Hidden City was good.
There was so little time left for us.

Chapter Five:
Idril and Tuor married in the spring, seven years after he had made passage to the Hidden City. I was not opposed to it, and Turgon, seeing her love for the man, and knowing she had been long alone; permitted it. He not only permitted it, he blessed their union, with great feasting and much joy.
Only Meaglin was unhappy, loathing and disgusted looks were heaped and piled upon Tuor and I in the corridors, not that we particularly cared. Tuor himself was too happy to notice.
On the day of Idril’s wedding, the whole city turned out, crowding into the King’s Square before the tower; garlanding and wreathing every post, sign, and outcrop they could find. White flowers left a heavy perfume in the air, making my head spin. Tuor was fidgeting in his new wedding garments.
Ecthelion came to collect us, and we went down to the square, taking our places beside Turgon and the other Lords on one side at the base of the marble stairway; we faced the ladies on the other side, flushing in the heat and with excitement.
From beside me, I heard Tuor gasp and stare. Turgon, on the other side of me, smiled in satisfaction. The bride, glowing and resplendent in her gown and veil, came slowly down the steps. She seemed to be unable to look at Tuor. She glanced at her father, and I; and Ecthelion, then around at the crowd assembled. She seemed relieved to have found no sign of Maeglin. I was pleased that he was not there either.
Among our kind, to be married was simple. Her father took her hand, and Tuor’s hand; and placed his daughter’s hand in the son of Huor’s. Now linked, the two turned to face the crowd, and a great cheer went up. Singing began, and the feast was laid out. Tuor and Idril partook first, and then the couple retreated to their bridal chambers. They would not be seen again for a month. The imposed isolation cemented marriages; usually this was the time when the young couple found out whether being married to one another was a good idea or not, and if it was, children were often conceived at this time.
Apparently, Idril Celebrindal and Tuor son of Huor were meant to be.
Glowing, Idril came to me immediately after the isolation had ended, to tell me that she had felt the spark of new life.
I was awed, and overjoyed. Idril was our dearest treasure, and the whole city was in her thrall. Turgon doted, Tuor worried, and I felt myself fiercely protective. I would not let her walk anywhere alone, and although at first she was flustered with the attention; soon she grew cross and snappish.
But that time passed, and her father and I found ourselves with Tuor waiting in and alcove, silent with worry, unspeaking, unable to look at one another. Then a baby’s cry broke the still air; and the whole city breathed again. Outside the sounds of celebration rose up, and Idril’s handmaidens rushed to us and to the windows, crying “Idril is delivered of a fine son! All is well!”
And so, all was well.
Chapter Six:
I remember I met him, what was going to become the new most important person in my life.
Tiny, and pink, with his face all curled up and eyes squeezed shut; when Earendil grasped my thumb in his strong little fist, he also grasped my heart. He let go of my hand a few moments later, and turned toward his mother with little lip smacking noises; but he never let go of my heart. He holds it still, it will always be his, as strong as the claim Turgon had upon me.
I can never definitively say who was the greatest love of my life, because how was I to compare my love for Earendil – the child I would never have, my godson – with the love I had for Turgon, my savior, my companion, my thrall?
All I know is the sweetest time of my life was upon me as much as it was for Idril and Tuor. Even Turgon softened under his starched collars for the beautiful child Earendil. If Tuor had won our love, more so had Earendil. All the city worshipped him, but mine was like unto the gift of his father; to watch him sleep, to nurse, to play with him in all his waking moments, to adore him as the most perfect creature in all the world.
I was besotted with the child, simply, utterly. But at least I was not alone in being cowed.
Many times I caught Earendil sitting on the affairs of state under Turgon’s watchful gaze, putting fistfuls of parchment in his mouth, drooling and smearing the ink beyond comprehension. Ecthelion could be found in the garden, rolling around in the grass making bleating noises to hear the baby’s wonderful laugh. Tuor could sit, covered in drool and other slimes, and smile into space for hours. Idril began speaking a language all her own, and Earendil approved. He mimicked, babbled, began learning.
It was a beautiful thing also; that nothing Maeglin could do would destroy our happiness. In fact, he could not do much that we would notice. He soon left the palace altogether, disdaining Earendil and hating Tuor. He retired to his forge in the hills, and we did not see or hear of him often, but he was still in Gondolin.
Now, if ever I had doubted in Turgon the gift that his daughter had also, of prescience; it was confirmed at this time when he strengthened the watches and wards in the Encircling Mountains beyond. Perhaps he did this because of Earendil, or perhaps it was because of what was to come. I never spoke to him of it, and only heard in offhand ways of his strengthening the watches with fire and arrows, large rocks, and boiling oil. Long had these things been piled in alleys of the city, leftover from its construction, and the rock piles within the walls sat covered in dust, untouched.
When Earendil was three years old, and talking and walking; he needed his mother less and less, spending more time in the company of Turgon or Ecthelion or Tuor and I. With more time on her hands, she had more room to worry.
And one of the things that worried her most was her family, and Maeglin, and the menace still from Angband.
She came to me one afternoon, as I bounced her son on my knee, pretending he was riding a pony; and confided her concerns. She had been speaking to Tuor about safety, and being a woman; since she had had children her mind had begun to work in different ways.  She had decided that if there was ever any attack, Valar forbid, Gondolin was a very bad place to be.
I agreed. Mountains all around, and a plain within;  atop the plain a hill of rock with a city on top. It was a very good fortress, but if the mountain walls were ever breached, the end would come swiftly to those in the city, barred from all escape. I had often before thought that Idril possessed foresight, I prayed that she did not now.
She told me of a dream she had had, of this she spoke also with her husband, but she would have my aid also. She had dreamt that Maeglin built a great roaring fire, and flung Earendil in; and would have thrown in herself and Tuor also, but she had awoken before this could come to pass.
She proposed an escape route, not only for her family, but for any that might take it. She asked me what would be required to build a tunnel beneath the Tumladen that would let them out far outside the walls, in safety in case of attack. The way would be well hidden and guarded, as the Gate was now closed, buried by a rockslide outside the walls two years after Tuor’s coming. Now, the plain of Tumladin was of a stone greater than iron, and not easily pierced. Such would take much labor, and many years, and even at that it would be shallow. Yet understanding, she still desired me and Tuor to labor upon such a thing, and with the task set, I chose those men of my house within my mind best suited to secrecy. 
 Only Tuor and I, and a select few trustworthy members of my house knew, and only because we were involved in the building of it.  We took such great care, that when the end came, only those few Idril led would escape, no others finding it. But that is later on in the tale, and Maeglin never knew of the secret way; but the price was paid in what happened after, in the loss of the Gondolindrim at the Fall. 
Chapter Seven:
When Earendil was but a child; Maeglin, living so far from the palace and out of our reach for news, was lost for a time.
He was fond of gathering metals in the hills, mining and quarrying, often going far from the reach of the safety of our walls. No one knew what happened to him in that time that he was lost, only that he was gone for a time, and returned; he said, to no ill.
Idril, far-seeing when it came to her cousin’s heart, knew not to believe him. But she did not know where he had been, nor what had happened there. None was ever to know the true details, but the losing of Meaglin had been a precursor, and his return sealed our doom.

The end would not come until Earendil was seven years old.

When he was but five, he and I were fond of walks in the city. Under the caring eye of Gondolin, the little prince learned about horses, baskets, cloth, weaving, sewing, and expanded his vocabulary to new lengths. I kept hold of his hand, and he walked contentedly by my side throughout the city, asking questions, touching things. He was always a tactile, talkative child.

We were in the city’s market quarter, per habit, and Earendil was eyeing some daggers and testing out a wooden sparring sword under the watchful eye of the smith when I stepped away to get him water from the nearest fountain.

When I returned, the smith was animatedly arguing with his wife and a customer outside the shop, and I saw Earendil’s bright tunic disappear into the alley behind. I flew around the corner to find Maeglin kneeling there, the child on his knee. Earendil was excitedly garbling on about the wood sword, and Maeglin had divided his attention between him and I.

Once again, I saw the old malice in him.

“Earendil.” I said. “Come away.”

Earendil looked at me, brow furrowed in concern. He did not argue, and would have slipped down and come to me, but Maeglin held him fast by his little wrist, not yet hard enough to hurt. My anger flared.

“Release him, Maeglin.”

Meaglin quirked a brow, and spoke with that old oiled-silk tone to his voice. “Why should I? This son should be mine. His mother should be mine. This city should be mine. Even you, Glorfindel.”

“You are mad.” I spat at him, and trying not to frighten the boy, laid my hand on his shoulder, to take him by force.

Maeglin laughed and released him. He stood, eyes fixed on me. “Mad? Indeed. Perhaps I am. But you know what I say is truth.”

I felt sweat trickle down the small of my back. Could I hope to escape him with Earendil? I knew how swiftly and surely he could slay. He knew my fear, and whispered to me, “Only give yourself freely to me, Glorfindel, and I will let him go unharmed.”

“Why is that all you want? Do you not want the very city itself?” I was incredulous.

He smiled, as if he knew something I did not and was biding his time. “Not just now. I would merely have a taste of the King’s catamite. In return, I will give you the life of your little prince.”

“Fine. As you wish. Only, let him turn away, you understand?” I could not believe what a whore I had grown, but I would gladly barter anything for the life of Idril’s son.

He nodded assent, and pointed to the wall. I turned to Earendil, sank to my knee. “Bright eyes.” I called him by the name only I used, and his little face sobered. “Turn away, and do not turn back until I tell you, no matter what you hear.” He nodded solemnly, and I turned him to face the outside of the alley, toward the street and shops on either side.

Then I went to face my gloating tormentor.

Without ceremony, he grabbed my shoulder roughly and forced my face against the wall. Two swift tugs and he had both our leggings to our knees. He lifted my tunic, and I closed my eyes and put my face against the stone. Pain, like I had never known. Turgon had always been gentle, and I had never had someone so uncaring, unconcerned or so eager as he was. I did not cry out, but I bit my lip until it bled. He pulled my hair as if to pull it out by the roots.

Of a sudden, he jerked away, complete. I breathed again, and heard him dressing himself. When he had done, he turned on his heel and left the alley without another word.

I looked back to see Earendil, still faced away, watching ants in the dust with his head down.

I dressed my own self, saw to it I was in order, and plastered on a smile despite my pain.

“Come now, Earendil. Let’s go home.” He smiled up at me, and slipped his hand in mine. I smiled back, and I felt and tasted blood. It had been worth it.

No one ever knew, because I never told. My shame and dishonor were great enough, it would be too much to bear if any other ever knew. Although, at times, I could swear Idril and Ecthelion looked at me with knowing eyes; and never spoke to me of it, but I doubted not that I was mentioned in some of their secret counsels. But certainly, Turgon never knew, unless Maeglin told him; which I highly doubted, even unto the end. Perhaps it would have been known if there had been more time left to us. It was never repeated, and I took the secret with me to my grave.

And as things went, it wasn’t many more years before I was in it.

Chapter Eight:
In that year just after Earendil turned seven; Turgon reduced the watch. To me he spoke of it, saying only; “I have reduced the watch that has come to nought. The men of this city deserve to enjoy their homes once more.”
I nodded agreement – what was I to say?
As for Idril, she was morose and quiet, moody for lengths of time. On the day that she came to me, she asked if it was finished, and I told her, yes, nearly so. The exit far to the north was still being finished, but it was done. She asked me then how deceived did I think Turgon might be; and I truthfully had to admit that he was now more deceived than ever. Maeglin had been mellowed and cheerful since he was lost, he no longer mined or quarried in the hills, and kept Turgon’s counsel to the point of my exclusion. Were it not for the fact that Turgon and I shared nights, I would have had no idea what went on with him. As it was, my information was very much limited.
Idril then asked me what we should do if Turgon should fall completely into Maeglin’s thrall. I had no words, stunned, for she had just named my own greatest fear. She squinted against the bright morning sun, for we were in the gardens, and moved closer on the bench to me. “I have gone to the people.” She admitted. “I asked them if they would take Tuor and my son as kings, if that should come to pass.”
“And what did the people say?” I asked.
“They laughed at me!” Idril was so angry her fists clenched and tears stood in her eyes. “They said that Gondolin would stand as long as Taniquetil or the mountains of Valinor!”

I understood her rage. Our people here in the city of Gondolin had grown proud. They likened themselves to the Valar even, and refused to hear sense. They had never known hunger, or poverty, or war here. Gondolin was a utopia, unmarred by the things that went on elsewhere in the world. Everything here was suspended in timeless bliss, where birth and death were rare, hunger and the poor unheard of. Even Maeglin’s house, slovenly as they were, were Elves of Gondolin, and of a proud and fair race.

I took her hand, did not know what to say that might comfort her.

“I would go to my father, but he is never alone.”

“I doubt that he would believe you anyway, Idril. You saw what he did to me.”
 She turned then, embraced me. “Yes, and you did what you had to, you let him be right; and I thank you for that, for sparing me. Now even you cannot speak to him against him, you who have always been faithful and true!”

I returned the embrace and sighed. “No, neither of us can reach him, even as close as he is to us, he is still ever more further away. Perhaps, in time…?”
She released me, shook away her tears. “No, for Maeglin will always be his sister-son, and as long as he lives you and I have no hope of Turgon’s favor again.”
I did not reply to that, only took her hand again. She was right, but there was nothing to be done for it. She nor I could ever desert Turgon, nor abandon him to Maeglin’s deceit. We had only to bear it, and keep trying to turn his ears to hearing.

Maeglin’s traps were very well wrought indeed.

Chapter End Notes

Took me five years to finish this story, as I was AWOL most of the time.

Chapter Nine:
The great feast of Tarnin Austa, or the Gates of Summer, had come again. After the feast at Midnight, we retired to Turgon’s chamber for the night of silence. The entire city was hushed, as I lay before the fire, and Turgon stood on the terrace, overlooking the city for a time.
When he entered he lay down beside me on the hearthrug, and said softly, “So peaceful, and beautiful, this city that I have made.”
I murmured agreement, and pillowed my head upon his shoulder.
“Did you know,” he began again, “That since Tuor came with Ulmo’s warning, I have thought often of leaving it?”
I raised my head to look in his eyes. “And why do you not heed the words of the Valar?”
He sighed heavily, and began stroking my hair. I had cut it to my waist after Nirnaneth Arnoniaed, and it had grown long again. I should cut it again, sometime. “Maeglin has always brought me to see sense, when I was in such a mood.”
He would, indeed. Damn him, Maeglin. I said nothing.
Another sigh, and he raised himself onto his elbow. “Come, let us lie in the bed, where I can love you properly.”
I smiled, and to the bed we went.
Hours of lovemaking later, I was lying in his arms, our hair blended together, golden and dark. I looked down at him and smiled.
“What is it?” He asked in surprise.
“Your scar, from the Fifth Battle. It has gone.” No trace of it remained, healed in the years since.
“I would think that a good thing, I remember how you called me vain for worrying over it.” He treated my buttocks to a firm slap with his open palm, then rested his hand there, warm.
I laughed. “It gave your face character. “
“As if I needed more. I see you still have my token.” His fingers stroked my ear.
“Yes, my lord. I will always keep your pledge.”
He kissed me. “Come, it is nearly dawn. Lets go and watch the sun rise with the city.”
I agreed, and we rose. After we had dressed, we went down to the square. Idril and Tuor were there, and Earendil was playing with Ecthelion by the fountain. We talked for a while, then stood by the walls, facing East.
But that morning, the sun rose in the North.
At first, I thought my eyes deceived me, but soon Idril too stared to the North. Turgon stood by my side, and his tension grew as the light grew redder and warmer. Ecthelion and Earendil, their play forgotten, stood also at the walls. Tuor took Earendil in his arms as the city took notice, and soft gasps and cries of wonder went up. All thronged to the walls to see this marvel.
Our wonder turned quickly to terror as we saw the snow on the peaks red as with blood, and a dread came upon us. The mountains burned, and we soon saw the cause why, but did not wish to believe it. Dragons, on the hills to the north! Crawling, burning, coming!
Riders, little stick-figure men, came from the watches on the hills, clattered in the Gates, and soon stood breathless before us. The first to speak drew a gasping breath, and said; “Melkor is upon us!”
Fear stuck the city, blind panic. Men ran for their weapons, women wept and children wailed. Turgon’s house ran to their arms and returned, I also ran, Ecthelion alongside, to muster our houses and gather our arms. Tuor and Idril went another way, to Tuor’s House of the Wing, alongside the palace. When I came to my House, the door stood open wide, and the flurry of activity within bespoke their terror. I myself was reliving old memories of my youth, of burning Elves and dead eyes. I shook myself, pushed these things back into the depths of my mind where they had been buried, and took up my armor and sword.
Then, I returned to the palace, leaving all in the capable hands of my steward, who was more leader of my House than I.
The whole city rang with the sound of arms, and gear, and the squares were choked with women holding their children, trying to be calm and brave while the counsel of Turgon convened.  Another glance at the hills revealed the mountains ablaze and rivers of fire ran down to the plain surrounding the city. I had already begun to sweat beneath my mail and armor, but ignored it, my mind was on Turgon’s decision – what would we do?
At the foot of the tower stair, the lords of Gondolin had gathered. Duilin of the Swallow, Egalmoth of the Heavenly Arch, Penlod of the Pillar (whom I saw not often), Galdor of the Tree, Ecthelion and his men of the Fountain, Rog of the Hammer of Wrath, Myself, and to my annoyance; Maeglin of the Sable Mole and his friend, Salgrant of the Harp. Tuor arrived, with his folk, and his face was grim and drawn.
He had left Idril at their house, which was very nearby, I glanced over to see her pulling a shirt of mail over her gown. Then Turgon began the council, and my eyes were riveted to him.
Tuor spoke first, advising that we should flee now, and quickly. Most of us agreed, but we fell to arguing the distinction of whether to go together, as a group, with the women and children in the middle; or to go as separate houses, in the faith that they would not catch us all, as we were swifter and more mobile this way. Tuor was in favor of the latter, and I agreed with him, yet I did not know if I would leave with Turgon or with Idril, for undoubtedly my house would follow me.
Maeglin and Salgrant argued then, that with the strength of our number we might fare better to remain and fight.
Turgon was nearly in greater favor of Tuor’s idea, I saw; and this Maeglin saw also, for he spoke then, saying, “King, the City of Gondolin contains a wealth  of jewels and metals and stuffs and things wrought by elves to surpassing beauty, and all these thy lords – more brave meseems than wise – would abandon to the Foe. Even should victory be thine upon the plain thy city will be sacked and the Balrogs get hence a measureless booty.”
Turgon groaned, he had not forgotten his beloved city and it’s great wealth, but he had been trying not to think of it until that moment.
Maeglin spoke again, and I felt a flash of anger – so this is how he turns Turgon to his every whim?
“Has thou for nothing labored for years uncounted at the building of walls of impregnable thickness and in the making of gates whose valor may not be over thrown; it is the power of this hill on Amon Gwareth become as lowly as the deep vale, or the hoard of weapons that lie upon it and its unnumbered arrows of so little worth that in the hour of peril thou wouldst cast all aside and go naked into the open against enemies of steel and fire, whose trampling shakes the earth and the Encircling Mountains ring with the clamour of their footsteps?”
Salgrant spoke then, “Maeglin speaks well, O King, hear him!”
Turgon stared off at the hills for but a moment, then spoke. “Indeed, why did I build walls and why do we bear weapons, if not to fight? Would we flee all this great labor that took so long, that we devised for our safety? I say we stay.”
A clamor went through the council, we all argued with him, plead with him, tried to make him see reason; but the time for deciding was too quickly past, and we all must go our ways, to lead our peoples as best we could. Tuor was the first, he went, I suppose, to see Idril. 
From here, I must seek histories written by others, for I was not there for some events, nor did I have chance to hear tidings of these things, the thick of battle prevented it, as you shall see.

Chapter Ten:
And now came the monsters across the valley and the white towers of Gondolin reddened before them; but the stoutest were in dread seeing those dragons of fire and those serpents of bronze and iron that fare already about the hill of the city; and they shot unavailing arrows at them. Then came a cry of hope, for behold, the snakes of fire may not climb the hill for its steepness and for its glassiness, and by reason of the quenching waters that fall upon its sides; yet they lie about its feet and a vast steam arises where the streams of Amon Gwareth and the flames of the serpents drive together. Then there grew such a heat that women became faint and men sweated beneath their mail, and all those springs of the city, save only the fountain of the king grew hot and smoked.
But now Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, captain of the hosts of Melkor, took counsel and gathered all his things of iron that could coil themselves around and above all obstacles before them. These he bade pile themselves before the northern gate; and behold, their great spires reached out even to its threshold and thrust at the towers and bastions about it, and by reason of the exceeding heaviness of their bodies those gates fell, and great was the noise thereof: yet most of the walls around them still stood firm.
Then the engines and catapults of the king poured darts and boulders and molten metals on those ruthless beasts, and their hollow bellies clanged beneath the buffeting, yet it availed not for they might be broken, and the fires rolled off them. Then were the topmost opened about their middles, and an innumerable host of the Orcs, the goblins of hatred, poured therefrom into the breach; and who shall tell of the gleam of their scimitars or the flash of the broad-bladed spears with which they stabbed?
Then did Rog shout in a mighty voice, and all the people of the Hammer of Wrath and the kindred of the Tree with Galdor the valiant leapt at their foe. There the blows of their great hammers and the dint of their clubs rang to the Encircling Mountains and the Orcs fell like leaves; and those of the Swallow and the Arch poured arrows like the dark rains of autumn upon them, and both Orcs and Gondothlim fell thereunder for the smoke and confusion.
Great was that battle, yet for all their valor the Gondolthlim by reason of the might of ever increasing numbers were borne slowly backwards till the goblins held part of the northernmost city.
At this time is Tuor the head of the folk of the Wing struggling in the turmoil of the streets, and now he wins through to his house to find that Maeglin is before him. Trusting in the battle now begun about the northern gate and in the uproar of the city, Maeglin had looked to this hour for the consummation of his designs.
Learning much of the secret delving of Tuor (yet he could not discover all) he said nought to the king or any other, for it was his thought that of a surety that tunnel would go in the end toward the Way of Escape, this being the most nigh to the city, and he had a mind to use this to his good, and to the ill of the Noldoli.
Messengers by great stealth he dispatched to Melkor to set a guard about the outer issue of that Way when the assault was made; but he himself thought now to take Earendil and cast him into the fire beneath the walls, and seizing Idril he would constrain her to guide him to the secrets of the passage, that he might win out of this terror of fire and slaughter and drag her withal along with him to the lands of Melkor. Now Maeglin was afeared that even the secret token which Melkor had given him would fail in that direful sack, and was minded to help that Ainu to the fulfillment of his promises of safety.
No doubt he had whatever of the death of Tuor in that great burning, for to Salgrant he had confided the task of delaying him in the king’s halls and egging him straight thence into the deadliest of the fight – but Salgrant fell into a terror unto death, and he rode home and lay there now aquake on his bed; but Tuor fared home with the folk of the Wing.
Now Tuor did this, though his valor leapt to the noise of war, that he might take farewell of Idril and Earendil, and speed them with a bodyguard down the secret way ere he returned himself to the battle throng to die if must be: but he found a press of the Mole-folk about his door, and these were the grimmest and least good-hearted of the folk Meaglin might get in that city. Yet were they free Noldoli and under no spell of Melkor’s like their master, wherefore though for the lordship of Maeglin they aided not Idril, no more would they touch of his purpose despite all his curses.
Now then Maeglin had Idril by the hair and sought to drag her to the battlements out of cruelty of heart, that she might see the fall of Earendil to the flames; but he was encumbered by that child, and she fought, alone as she was, like a tigress for all her beauty and slenderness. There now he struggles and delays amid oaths while the folk of the Wing draw nigh – and Tuor gives a shout so great the Orcs hear it afar and waver at the sound of it. Like a crash of that tempest the guard of the Wing were amid the men of Mole, and these were stricken asunder.
When Maeglin saw this he would stab Earendil with a short knife he had; but that child bit his left hand, that his teeth sank in, and he staggered, and stabbed weakly; and the mail of the small coat his mother had put upon him in secret turned the blade aside; and thereupon Tuor was upon him and his wrath was terrible to see. He seized Maeglin by the hand that held the knife and broke the arm with a wrench, and then taking him by the middle leapt with him upon the walls, and flung him far out.
Great was the fall of his body, and it smote Amon Gwareth three times ere it pitched in the midmost of the flames; and the name of Maeglin has gone out in shame from among the Eldar and Noldoli.

Chapter Eleven:
Then the warriors of the Mole being more numerous than those few of the Wing, and loyal to their lord, came at Tuor, and there were great blows, but no man might stand before the wrath of Tuor, and they were smitten and driven to fly into what dark holes they might, or flung also from the walls. Then Tuor and his men must get them to the battle of the Gate, for the noise of it has grown very great, and Tuor still has it in his heart that the city may stand; yet with Idril he left there Voronwe against his will and some other swordsmen to be a guard for her till he returned or might send tidings from the fray.
Now was the battle at that gate very evil indeed,  and Duilin of the Swallow as he shot from the walls was smited by a fiery bolt of the Balrogs who leapt about the base of Amon Gwareth; and he fell from the battlements and perished. Then the Balrogs continued to shoot darts of fire and flaming arrows like small snakes into the sky, and these fell upon the roofs and gardens of Gondolin until all the trees were scorched, and the flowers and brass burned up, and the whiteness of those walls and colonnades was blackened and seared: yet a worse matter was it that a company of those demons climbed upon the coils of the serpents of iron and thence loosed unceasingly from their bows and slings till a fire began to burn in the city to the back of the main army of the defenders.
Then said Rog in a great voice: “Who now shall fear the Balrogs for all their terror? See before us the accursed ones who for ages have tormented the children of the Noldoli, and who now set a fire at our backs with their shooting. Come ye of the Hammer of Wrath and we will smite them for their evil!” There upon he lifted his mace, and its handle was long; and he made a way before him by the wrath of his onset even unto the fallen gate: but all the people of the Stricken Anvil ran behind like a wedge, and sparks came from their eyes for the fury of their rage. A great deed was that sally, as the Noldoli sing yet, and many of the Orcs were borne backward into the fires below; but the men of Rog leapt even upon the coils of the serpents and came at those Balrogs and smote them grievously, for all they had whips of flame and claws of steel, and were in stature very great.
They battered them into nought, or catching at their whips wielded these against them, that they tore them even as they had aforetime themselves; and the number of Balrogs that perished was a marvel and dread to the hosts of Melkor, for ere that day never had any of the Balrogs been slain by the hand of Elves or Men.
Then Gothmog Lord of Balrogs gathered all his demons that were about the city and ordered them thus: a number made for the folk of the Hammer and gave before them, but the greater company rushing upon the flank contrived to get to their backs, higher upon the coils of the drakes and nearer to the gates, so that Rog might not win back save with great slaughter among his folk. But Rog seeing this essayed not to win back, as was hoped, but with all his folk fell on those whose part was to give before him; and they fled before him now of dire need rather than of craft. Down into the plain were they harried, and their shrieks rent the airs of Tumladin.
Then that house of the Hammer fared about smiting and hewing the astonished bands of Melkor till they were hemmed at the last by an overwhelming force of the Orcs and the Balrogs, and a fire-drake was loosed upon them. There they did perish about Rog hewing to the last till iron and flame overcame them, and it is yet sung that each man of the Hammer of Wrath took the lives of seven foemen to pay for his own.
Then did dread fall more heavily still upon the Gondolthlim at the death of Rog and the loss of his battalion, and they gave back further yet into the city, and Penlod perished there in a lane with his back to the wall, and about him many men of the Pillar and many of the Tower of Snow. Now therefore Melkor’s goblins held all the gate and a great part of the walls on either side, whence numbers of the Swallow and those of the Rainbow were thrust to doom; but within the city they had won a great space reaching nigh to the center, even to the Place of the Well that adjoined the Square of the Palace.
Yet about those ways around the gate their dead were piled in uncounted heaps, and they halted therefore and took counsel, seeing that for the valor of the Gondolthlim they had lost many more than they had hoped and far more than those defenders. Fearful too they were for that slaughter Rog had done amid the Balrogs, because of those demons they had a great courage and confidence of heart.
Now then the plan that they made was to hold what they had won, while those serpents of bronze and with great feet for trampling climbed slowly over those of iron, and reaching the walls there opened a breach where through the Balrogs might ride upon the dragons of flame: yet they knew this must be done with speed, for the heats of those drakes lasted not for ever, and might only be plenished from the wells of fire that Melkor had made in the fastness of his land.
But even as their messengers were sped they heard a sweet music that was played amid the host of the Gondolthlim and they feared what it might mean; and there came Ecthelion and the people of the Fountain whom Turgon till now had held in reserve, for he watched the most of that affray from the heights of his tower.
Now marched these folk to a great playing of their flutes, and the crystal and silver of their array was most lovely to see amid the red light of the fires and the blackness of the ruins. Then on a sudden their music ceased and Ecthelion of the fair voice shouted for the drawing of swords, and before the Orcs might foresee his onslaught the flashing of those pale blades was among them. Tis said that Ecthelion’s folk there slew more of the goblins than fell ever in all the battles of the Eldalie with that race, and that his name is a terror among them to this latest day, and a war cry to the Eldar.

Chapter Twelve:
Now it is that Tuor and the Men of the Wing fare into the fight and range themselves beside Ecthelion and those of the Fountain, and the twain strike mighty blows and ward each many a thrust from the other, and harry the Orcs so that they win back almost to the gate. But there behold a quaking and a trampling, for the dragons labor mightily at beating a path up Amon Gwareth and at casting down the walls of the city; and already there is a gap therein and a confusion of masonry where the ward-towers have fallen in ruin. Bands of the Swallow and of  the Arch of Heaven there fight bitterly amid the wreck or contest the walls to east and west with the foe; but even as Tuor comes night driving the Orcs, one of those brazen snakes heaves against the western wall and a great mass of it shakes and falls, and behind comes a creature of fire and Balrogs upon it.
Flames gust from the jaws of that worm and folk whither before it, and the wings of the helm of Tuor are blackened, but he stands and gathers about him his guard and all of the Arch and Swallow he can find, whereas on his right Ecthelion rallies the men of the Fountain of the South.
Now the Orcs again take heart from the coming of the drakes, and they mingle with the Balrogs that pour about the breach, and they assail the Gondolthlim grievously. There Tuor slew Othrod a lord of the Orcs cleaving his helm, and Balcmeg he hewed asunder, and Lug he smote with his axe that his limbs were cut from beneath him at the knee, but Ecthelion shore through two captains of the goblins at a sweep and cleft the head of Orcobal their chiefest champion to his teeth; and by reason of the great doughtiness of those two lords they came even unto the Balrogs.
Of those demons of power Ecthelion slew three, for the brightness of his sword cleft the iron of them and did hurt to their fire, and they writhed; yet the leap of that axe Dramborleg that was swung by the hand of Tuor were they still more afraid, for it sang like the rush of eagle’s wings in the air and took death as it fell, and five of them went down before it.
But so it is that few cannot fight always against the many, and Ecthelion’s left arm got a sore rent from a whip of the Balrog’s and his shield fell to the earth even as that dragon of fire drew nigh amid the ruin of the walls. Then Ecthelion must lean upon Tuor, and Tuor might not leave him, though the very feet of the trampling beast were upon them, and they were like to be overborne: but Tuor hewed at a foot of the creature so that flame spouted forth, and that serpent screamed, lashing with its tail; and many of both Orcs and Noldoli got their death therefrom. Now Tuor gathered his might and lifted Ecthelion, and amid a remmanent of the folk got thereunder and escaped the drake; yet dire was the killing of men that beast had wrought, and the Gondolthlim were sorely shaken.
Thus it was that Tuor son of Peleg gave before the foe, fighting as he yielded ground, and bore from that battle Ecthelion of the Fountain, but the drakes and the foemen held half the city and all the north of it. Thence marauding bands fared about the streets and did much ransacking, or slew in the dark men and women and children, and many, if occasion let, they bound and led back and flung in the iron chambers amid the dragons of iron, that they might drag them afterward to be thralls of Melkor.
Now Tuor reached the Square of the Folk well by a way entering from the north, and found there Galdor denying the western entry by the Arch of Inwe to a horde of the goblins, but about him was now but a few of those men of the Tree. There did Galdor become the salvation of Tuor, for he fell behind his men stumbling beneath Ecthelion over a body that lay in the dark, and the Orcs had taken them both but for the sudden rush of that champion and the dint of his club.
There were the scatterings of the guard of the Wing and of the houses of the Tree and the Fountain, and of the Swallow and the Arch, welded to a good battalion, and by the counsel of Tuor they gave way out of the Place of the Well,  seeing that the Square of the King that lay next was the more defensible. Now that place aforetime had contained many beautiful trees, both oak and poplar, around a great well of vast depth and great purity of water; yet at that hour it was full of the riot and ugliness of those hideous people of Melkor, and those waters were polluted with their carcasses.
Thus comes the last stout gathering of these defenders in the Square of the Palace of Turgon. Among them are many wounded and fainting, and Tuor is weary for the labors of the night and the weight of Ecthelion who is in a deadly swoon. Even as he led that battalion in by the Road of Arches from the north-west (and they had much ado to prevent any foe getting behind their backs) a noise arose at the eastward of the square, and Glorfindel is driven in with the last of the men of the Golden Flower.
Now these had sustained a terrible conflict in the Great Market to the east of the city, where a force of Orcs led by Balrogs came on them unawares as they marched by a circuitous way to the fight about the gate. This they did to surprise the foe upon his left flank, but they themselves were ambushed; there fought they bitterly for hours till a fire-drake new-come from the breach overwhelmed them, and Glorfindel cut his way out very hardly and with few men; but that place with its stores and its goodly things of fine workmanship was a waste of flames.

Chapter Thirteen:
 As the histories bespoke, we were driven into the square of the King after much battle, with our foes at our very heels. Then came the men of the Harp, without their lord, and due to their timely arrival, we made it within the square safely, and they with us.
I looked about and saw Turgon, watching from the top of the stair, Tuor at the fountain drinking, and Ecthelion unconscious at his feet. I would have gone to him, but he rose from giving Ecthelion water and joined me and my men, and together we cleared the square and barricaded the entrances, save for the one at the South, which Tuor thought might be our escape.
No sooner had we set a guard of many men there was Egalmoth driven in that way. He and his men had been fighting hand to hand in the city streets, and were become overwhelmed. He had with him many rescued captives, all that were left of the women and children, who cowered there in the center of the square, eyes wide and breath fast. Turgon’s own guard bristled, yet untouched by the fight. They were avowed to him alone, and not even for the sack of the city would they be moved from his side.
Then the fight for the king’s square began in earnest, as our barricades need be defended, and long did we sweat and bleed and fight, and Ecthelion lay still by the fountain, Turgon at his side, the survivors gathered round. For some hours did we hold the square, until the barrier to the north was burst and breached by a drake, and Turgon’s men bristled and gathered him up the stair, and would have him and the women and children sequestered in the tower, but he refused, and they did not push him further.
Tuor himself jumped in front of the beast, Egalmoth at his side, but under the swarming of the Orcs they were separated in the fight, and Tuor was pushed back toward the fountain. I had my own hands full, or would have gone to him, but as it was, I could only fight on with my foes, the foul orcs; and watch as best I could.
Tuor was weaving, weary, his sword arm heavy with every stroke, and through the broken gate came a great Balrog, and he was Gothmog lord of Balrogs, Melkor’s own son. Then, out of nowhere, Ecthelion managed to get to his feet, and rose, and his face was ashen gray; his shield arm hanging limp at his side, stepped over Tuor even as he fell, and stood over him with one leg on either side. Gothmog attacked, and Ecthelion fought back, but took a blow to his sword arm, and it fell from his hand and he could not retrieve it.
Instead, he leapt at Gothmog, his chin on his chest so that the great spike atop his helm was foremost, and his leap carried it into the Balrog’s chest, and he wrapped his legs around Gothmog’s, driving with his helm, searching for the heart of that beast. Gothmog screamed, and pitched forward, and too quickly for anyone to act to save Ecthelion, fell face most into the fountain. Now, that fountain was very deep, and still held water, it had not steamed like the other fountains in the city. The Balrog was quenched, his fire out, and Turgon was shouting and trying to make down the stair, but repressed by his guard.
Ecthelion, as with all of us, was clad in steel armor, but in the thick of the fighting, none could break free to save him, for even if we had, we too would have sunk in our armor, or been unable to pull him out. And so perished Ecthelion lord of the Fountain of the South, fairest of the Noldoli, and my friend.
Now Tuor rose up, and wept, but he took up his sword, and it’s swing and thrust was mighty despite his weeping. Soon we all found ourselves at the foot of the stair by the fighting, but the enemy had lost heart at the fall of Gothmog, and Turgon and his men came down among us, Glamdring ringing at my side, and the foe were beaten back nearly to the gates again. We cornered one of the fire-drakes, and forced him into the fountain too, and then the water went up in much great steaming, and we all were covered in it and soaked through. Some were killed by the heat, but all were blinded by the cloud, and we gathered Turgon and rallied beneath the trees at the foot of the stair once more.
It was then that Turgon spoke again. “Great is the fall of Gondolin.” All turned to him then, eyes wide, and the company gave a collective shudder.
Tuor spoke then, “Gondolin stands yet, and Ulmo will not suffer it to perish!”
Now were they at the time standing, Tuor by the trees and the king upon the stairs, as they had spoken aforetime when Tuor spake at the embassy of Ulmo.
But Turgon said: “Evil have I brought upon the Flower of the Plain in despite of Ulmo, and now he leaveth it to wither in the fire. Lo! Hope is no more in my heart for my city of loveliness, but the children of the Noldoli shall not be worsted forever. “
Galdor and his men, and even mine clashed their weapons then, in eagerness to continue the fight, for some were still fighting that we might have this conversation. But Turgon said: “Fight not against doom, my children. Seek ye who may have safety in flight, if perhaps there be time yet: but let Tuor have your lealty.”
But Tuor said, “Thou art king.”
Turgon made his answer, “Yet no blow will I strike more.” And took of his crown and cast it at the roots of the tree by which Tuor stood.
Galdor stooped and picked it up, and would have returned it, but Turgon would not take it, and bareheaded he climbed to the topmost pinnacle of that white tower that stood night his palace. There he shouted in a voice like a horn blown among the mountains, and all that were gathered beneath the trees and the foemen in the midst of the square heard him: “Great is the victory of the Noldoli!” And it is said that this was then midnight, and the Orcs yelled in derision.
Then did we all speak of flight, and were of two minds. Many thought that we should never make it by night across the plain and over the hills, and that it was better to stay and die with our king. I was among this number myself. But Tuor did not like the idea of so many women and children dying, either by our hands at the last or at those of the enemy, and spoke of our secret delving. Then he counseled that we beg Turgon to flee, and would have sent me up to him, but I would not go. Turgon had his own mind, and surely at this time it was made up, and I could not even fathom it, let alone change it.
Now, Tuor’s plan was very dangerous indeed,  seeing the size of our company and knowing myself the narrowness of that tunnel, but all gathered saw that this seemed best, and would go.
But Turgon would not go with us, and told us to go before it became too late, and said “Let Tuor be your guide and your chief. But I will not leave my city and will burn with it.”
Again we sped a messenger there to him, with the message, “Who are the Gondolithlim if you perish? Lead us!”
But he said only “I abide here. If I am king, obey my behests, and dare not to parley further with my commands.”
Now was Tuor torn sorely between his reverence for the king and the love for Idril and his child, wherewith his heart was sick; yet already serpents fare about the square trampling upon dead and dying, and the foe gathers in the mists for the last onslaught; and the choice must be made. Then because of the wailing of the women in the halls of the palace and the greatness of his pity for that sad remainder of the peoples of Gondolin, he gathered all that company, maids, children and mothers, and setting them amid most he marshaled as well as he might his men around them.
Deepest he set them at flank and rear, for he purposed falling back southward fighting as best he might with rearguard as he went; and thus if it might so be to win down the Road of Pomps to the Place of the Gods ere any great force be sent to circumvent him. Thence it was to go by way of Running Water past the Fountains of the South to the walls and to his home; but the passage of the secret tunnel he doubted much. Thereupon espying his movement the foe made forthwith with a great onslaught upon his left flank and his rear, from east and from north, even as he began to withdraw; but his right was covered by the king’s hall and the head of that column drew already into the Road of Pomps.
I would not have gone, but Galdor grasped me bodily by the armor I wore, and dragged me out of the square. Once out of the square the fighting was very thick, and I must fight to protect myself, and then to protect the others. So I left the square of the king, and Turgon therein, for he still had his guard, and I thought to return and convince him to leave with us.
Then some of the hugest of the drakes came on and glared in the fog, and he must perforce bid the company to go at a run, fighting on the left at haphazard; but I held the rear and many more of my house fell there. So we passed the Road and reached the Gar Anion, Place of the Gods; and this was very open and the highest ground in the whole city. There we expected the fighting fierce, but alas, the foe seemed to forget us, and we moved further, and we came upon Idril there, her hair all loose, and Tuor was brought up short in amazement.
By her stood Voronwe, but she looked past us, and seemed not to see even Tuor. Then we all halted and looked back, and I turned also, and my heart stood still in my chest. A dragon coiled round the very steps of the palace, the trees were blackened, and the tower was besieged. Up high I could make out the form of Turgon, but about the base of the tower another dragon curled, spouting flame. He lashed his tail, and Balrogs guarded him, and I could hear the people screaming distantly.
Idril spoke then, distraught. “Woe is me whose father awaiteth doom even on his topmost pinnacle; but seven times woe whose lord hath gone down before Melkor and will stride home no more!”
Tuor answered her, “Idril, it is I, and I live; yet now will I get thy father hence, be it from the Hells of Melkor!” With that he would go down the hill alone, maddened by the grief of his wife; but she came to her wits in a storm of weeping and delayed him saying, “My lord, my lord!”
Yet as they spoke a great noise came, and my eyes were riveted upon Turgon as the tower flared into flame and fell. I must have screamed. I do not know. It was if I were blinded but there was something I desperately wished to see. I would have run to him, but Galdor and the others held me back. I struggled with them, my awareness focused inward at that link that always told me subconsciously if my love was well. I could not find it. Could not find him. Our bond had been broken.  I sank to my knees in a sudden weakness.
Idril said then, “Sad is the blindness of the wise.”
Tuor answered her, “Sad too is the stubbornness of those we love – yet twas a valiant fault. “ And he stooped and lifted and kissed her, for she was more to him than all the Gondolthlim; but she wept bitterly for her father.
Then Tuor turned to the captains, saying: “We must get hence with all speed, lest we be surrounded. “
Then Galdor dragged me to my feet, and set me upon them, and steadied me while I wobbled. “Come now, Glorfindel. There is still much work to do, and many lives to be saved. Idril and Tuor will have need of you yet, and their son.” He set my naked sword in my hand, straightened my breastplate, and turned me to face the group.
He looked me dead in the eye and said, “Now, you must guard the rear, and we must move swiftly. Do you understand?”
I nodded dumbly, my whole body seemed to have gone cold and numb, and life lacked interest.

Chapter Fourteen:
Then we moved onward, through the south of the city, and met only scattered bands of plunderers who fled before us; and we found fire and burning and death everywhere. We met some women and children, but Tuor would not let them carry anything but babes and food.
Coming not at length to a greater quiet Tuor asked Voronwe for tidings, in that Idril spoke not and was well-nigh in a swoon; and Voronwe told him how she had waited before the doors of the house while the noise of those battles grew and shook their hearts; and Idril wept for lack of tidings from Tuor. At length she had sped the most part of her guard down the secret way with Earendil, constraining them to depart with imperious words, yet was her grief great at that sundering. She herself would bide, said she, nor seek to live after her lord; and then she fared about gathering womenfolk and wanderers and speeding them down the tunnel, and smiting marauders with her small band; nor might they dissuade her from bearing her sword, Hadhafang.
At length they had fallen in with a band somewhat too numerous, and Voronwe had dragged her from it by the luck of the Gods, for all else with them perished, and their foe burned Tuor’s house; yet they found not the secret way. “Therewith, “ said Voronwe, “thy lady became distraught of weariness and grief, and fared into the city wildly to my great fear – nor might I get her away from the burning.”
About the saying of these words we were come to the southern walls and night to Tuor’s house, and it was cast down and the wreckage was asmoke, and Tuor was bitterly wroth. But there was a noise that boded the approach of Orcs, and Tuor dispatched the company as swiftly as might be down the secret way. Now there was a great sorrow on that stair as the exiles bid farewell to Gondolin; yet are they without much hope of further life beyond the hills, for how shall any slip from the hand of Melkor?
Glad was Tuor when all had passed the entrance and his fear lightens; indeed by the luck of the Valar only can all those folk have gotten therein unspied by the Orcs. Some now are left for casting aside their arms labor with picks from within and block up the entry of the passage; I and the men of my house did thus as the idea came upon us, before following after the host. But as we descended the stair into the tunnel we drew level with the valley and the heat grew to a torment for the fire of the dragons about the city above us, as the tunnel was not very deep in the earth.
Boulders were loosened by the tremors of the ground, and their falling crushed many, and fumes so that our lanterns and torches went out. Here we stumbled over fallen bodies, and I feared for Earendil, as did Tuor and Idril I know. The passage through the earth took us nearly two hours, and in the dark we struggled on. At the end of the passage it was rough and unfishished, barely a hole hewn through the rock.
We came at last to the opening, and it led out into a dry basin that had once been a small lake, but was now full of very thick brush. Here the press of folk gathered, with the people Idril and Voronwe had sent ahead, and were weeping softly in weariness and sorrow, but Earendil was not there.  He had been sent ahead, out into the Encircling Mountains and the small craggy passes therein.
Far the hill of Amon Gwareth loomed, crowned with flames. Drakes and monsters of iron overwhelmed it, and great was the sack of Balrogs and Orcs. Somewhat of a comfort was the knowledge that though the city was overrun, the plain was very nearly empty, all were at the destruction.
“Now,” said Galdor, “we must get as far hence toward the Encircling Mountains as may be ere dawn come upon us, and that giveth no great space of time, for summer is at hand.” There rose up a dissention, saying that to make for the Cristhorn, Cleft of Eagles, was folly, being so high up. “The sun,” the people cried, “will be up long before we reach the foothills, and we shall be overwhelmed in the plain. Let us fare to Bad Uthwen, the way of escape, for that is but half the journey, and our weary and wounded may make it that far if no further.”
Yet Idril spoke against this, and persuaded the lords that they trust not to the magic of that way that had before shielded us from discovery, saying, “For what magic stands if Gondolin be fallen?”
Nonetheless a large body of men and women sundered from Tuor and fared there, and into the jaws of a monster who by the guile of Melkor at Maeglin’s warning sat at the outer issue and none fared through. But the others, led by one Legolas Greenleaf of the house of the Tree, who knew that plain by day or dark, and was night-sighted, made much speed over the vale for all their weariness, and halted only after a great march. Then was all the earth spread with grey light which looked no more on the beauty of Gondolin; but the plain was full of mists – and that was a marvel, for no mist or fog came ever there before, and this perchance had to do with the doom of the fountain of the king.
Again we rose, and covered by the vapors fared long past dawn in safety, until we were too far away to descry from the hill or the ruined walls. Now the mountains or rather their lowest hills were on that side seven leagues save a mile from Gondolin, and Cristhorn the Cleft of Eagles two leagues upward going from the beginning of the mountains, for it was at a great height; wherefore we had yet two leagues and part of a third to traverse amid the spurs and foothills, and we were very weary.
By now the sun hung well above a saddle in the eastern hills, and she was very red and great; and the mists near us were lifted, but the ruins of Gondolin were utterly hidden in a cloud. Then at the clearing of the mists we saw, a few furlongs off, a knot of men fled on foot; and these were pursued by a strange cavalry, for on great wolves and wargs rode Orcs, as they thought, brandishing spears. Then said Tuor “There is Earendil my son, behold his face shines like a star, and my men are about him and they are in sore straits.”
Forthwith he chose fifty of the men that were least weary, and leaving the main company to follow he fared over the plain with that troop as swiftly as they had strength left. I myself stayed and stood at Idril’s side, to steady and guard her, and our eyes followed every move of Tuor and Earendil.
Coming now to carry of voice Tuor shouted to the men about Earendil to stand and flee not, for the wolf riders were scattering them and slaying them, and the child was upon the shoulders of Hendor, Idril’s steward, and he seemed to be holding his own with a sword. Then they stood back to back with Hendor and Earendil amid most; but Tuor soon came up, though all his troop were breathless.
Of the wolf riders there were a score, and of the men that were about Earendil but six living; therefore had Tuor opened his men into a crescent of but one rank, and hoped so to envelop the riders, lest any escaping bring tidings to the main foe and draw ruin upon the exiles. In this he succeeded, so that only two escaped, and therewithal wounded and without their beasts, wherefore were their tidings brought too late into the city.
Glad was Earendil to see Tuor, and Tuor most pleased with his child, but said Earendil, “ I am thirsty, Father, for I have run far – nor had Hendor no need to bear me.”
Thereto his father said nothing, having no water, and thinking of the need of all that company that he guided; but Earendil said, “Twas good to see Maeglin die so, for he would set arms about my mother – and I liked him not; but I would travel no more in tunnels for all of Melkor’s wolf riders.”
Then Tuor smiled and set him upon his shoulders. Soon after this the main company came up, and Tuor gave Earendil to his mother who was in a great joy, but Earendil would not be borne in her arms, for he said, “Mother Idril, thou art weary, and warriors in mail ride not among the Gondolithim.” Then she set down the child, and he saw me, and was startled, and would have been afraid if I had not dropped to one knee. Covered in soot and sweat and black orc blood, bearing my sword naked in my hand, my hair all loose and my face like stone, I had frightened the child with my look. I shook off my gloom, and gave myself a reason to live.
I took his hands, and he recognized me. To him I swore a mighty oath in that moment, “By my life or death I will serve you and all your line. My blood is yours forever until my body is ashes and my bones are dust. My spirit is bound to you, through flame and water and wind and earth. I will never hurt you. My heart will always love you, until my soul has flown to the halls of my fathers or this world meets its end. I swear it to you, Earendil – do not be afraid of me!” And then I grasped him in a deep hug, and the child laughed and said, “Glorfindel! I would not have your blood or bones to prove your loyalty! I am not afraid of thee!”
At that I released him, and his mother took his hand, I Iooked into her eyes. She gave me a small weak smile, and I rose. Under Tuor’s guidance, we then continued on.

Chapter Fifteen:
Now we came to the foothills and it was full morning but still grey, and there came near the beginning of the upward road folk stretched them and rested in a little dale fringed with trees and with hazel-bushes, and many, including I, slept despite our peril, for we were utterly spent. Yet Tuor set aside a strict watch, and himself slept not. Here we made a meal of scanty food and broken meats; and Earendil quenched his thirst and played at a little brook close to where I slept.
He said to his mother, “I would we had Ecthelion of the Fountain here to play me on his flute, or make me willow whistles! Perchance he has gone on ahead?” But Idril told him what she had heard of him. Then Earendil said that he cared not ever to see the streets of Gondolin again, and wept bitterly; but Tuor said that he would not again see those streets, for Gondolin was no more.
Thereafter, near sundown, Tuor bade us arise, and we pressed on by the rugged paths. Soon now the grass faded and gave way to mossy stones, and trees fell away, and even the pines and firs grew sparse. About the set of the sun they way wound behind a shoulder of the hills and we were spared a last look at Gondolin. There we all turned an the plain is clear and smiling as of old; but afar off as we gazed a great flare shot up in the last light the darkened north – and that was the fall of the last tower of Gondolin, even that which had stood hard by the southern gate, and whose shadow fell oft across the walls of Tuor’s house. Then sank the sun, and we saw Gondolin no more.
Now the pass of Cristhorn is one of dangerous going, and our host would not have ventured it by dark, lantern less and torch less; we were very weary and encumbered with women and children and sick and stricken men. Had it not been for our great fear of Melkor’s scouts, we would not have done it by night, as we were a large company and could not travel very secretly. Darkness gathered rapidly as we approached the high place, and we must string out into a long and straggling line. Galdor and a band of men spear-armed went ahead, and Legolas with them, whose eyes were like cat’s for the dark, yet could they see further.
There followed the least weary of the women supporting the sick and the wounded that could not go on foot. Idril was with these, and Earendil who bore up well, but Tuor was in the midmost behind them with his men, and they bore some who were grievously wounded, and Egalmoth was with him, but he had got a hurt in the flight from the square. Behind him came many women with babes, and girls, and lamed men, yet was the going slow enough for them. At rearmost went the largest band of men battle-whole and there was I.
Thus we came to the Cristhorn, which is an ill place by reason of its height, for this is so great that spring nor summer come ever there, and it is very cold. Indeed while the valley dances in the sun, there all the year snow dwells in those bleak places, and even as we came there the wind howled, coming from the north behind us. Snow fell and whirled in the wind-eddies and blew into our eyes, and this was not good, for the path was narrow, and of the right or westerly hand a sheer wall rises but seven feet from the path before bursting high up into jagged pinnacles.
There dwells Thorondor king of Eagles, lord of Thoronath, whom we called sometimes Sorontur. But of the other hand is a fall not sheer by deadly steep, and it has long teeth of rock so that no one may climb down, or fall maybe, but by no means up. And from that deep there is no escape at either end any more than the sides, and the river Thor Sir runs at the bottom from the south over a great precipice but with slender water, for it is a thin stream in those heights, and issues to the north after flowing a rocky mile above ground down a narrow passage that goes into the mountain, and so narrow a fish would be hard pressed to squeeze through.
Galdor and his men were come now to the end near to where the Thorn Sir falls, and the rest straggled for all Tuor’s efforts, back over most of the mile of the perilous way between chasm and cliff, so that my folk were scarce at the beginning, when there came a shout that echoed there. Galdor’s men were beset in the dark suddenly by shapes leaping from behind rocks where they had lain hidden even from the glance of Legolas. It was Tuor’s thought that they had fallen in with one of Melkor’s ranging companies, and he feared no more than a sharp brush in the dark; yet he sent the women and sick around him rearward and joined him men to Galdor’s, and there was an affray upon the perilous path.
But now rocks fell from above, and things looked ill, for they did harm; but matters seemed worse to Tuor when the noise of arms came from the rear, for I was beset and fighting myself, fighting Orcs, and a Balrog was with them.
My men and I hewed and fought upon the narrow path, pitching as many of the Orcs over the side as we might, but the rocks falling from above must be dodged, lest our entire flight fail. It was at this time the moon rose, and Thorondor high above woke to the clamor of our fight, and the rush of their wings joined in our fight, and we would move forward again. Already we were halfway through the pass when the Balrog leapt onto some high rocks that stood on the left side of the pass, nearly to Galdor and Tuor at the front, cutting me and my men off from the rest of the passage.
Then, caring nothing for that creature’s whip, I rushed in and hacked at the beast. It leapt onto a boulder, and then back at me. I fought him to the right and to the left, always seeking to throw him over, or to damage him, but using my shield to spare myself his blows. His whip lashed at me, it was very close, if it struck me, I didn’t feel it. I got in a strike that clanged the beast’s helm, and then my sword sliced off the arm that held the whip, and I pressed on, encouraged. It leapt at me, and I stabbed him, but my blade only found his shoulder, and we grappled and wrestled there, his stump spurting and too slick to grasp, his other hand full of a fiery sword.
We were on the very edge, and I reached with my free hand and withdrew my long-bladed dagger, one that I had always meant to use on Maeglin, but would serve this purpose better now; and grimly set my teeth and stabbed that beast in the belly, which was beside my own face, for the Balrog was much larger than I. The thing shrieked, I twisted the dagger, and it began to fall backwards. I knew that it would fall over the edge, and turned to face the people.
I met Idril’s eyes for but a moment, and felt a yank on my hair that twisted my head around. I stood for but a fraction of an instant, my eyes lost in the depths of Earendil’s, who was in his mother’s arms; but then my knees gave, unable to hold the weight, and I fell over also, backwards, facing the night sky as I fell.
It was over so quickly, yet I fell for a long time. I lost my sword and my shield. I did not care if the Balrog still held my hair or not. I did not feel it when the earth caught me. It was simply an empty realization that I was no longer falling. My body was broken, yet I lay on the rocks, looking up at the night sky. Random thoughts assailed me.

How had I fallen again?

A stray breeze blew a strand of gold across my view.

Oh yes. My hair.

I should have cut it.

I was so vain!

Now I would never see Earendil grown, my vow fulfilled.

Earendil!

My Earendil!

I was supposed to live forever!

A soft brush of feathers. Eagle wings filled my view. Thorondor.

That was the last thing I knew. And then I knew no more.

THE END

“Many are the songs that have been sung of the duel of Glorfindel with the Balrog upon a pinnacle of rock in that high place; and both fell to ruin in the abyss. But the eagles coming stooped upon the Orcs, and drove them shrieking back; and all were slain or cast into the deeps, so that rumor of their escape from Gondolin came not until long after to Morgoth’s ears. Then Thorondor bore up Glorfindel’s body out of the abyss, and they buried him in a mound of stones beside the pass; and a green turf came there, and yellow flowers bloomed upon it amid the barrenness of stone, until the world was changed.”
-The Silmarillion, Of Tuor and the fall of Gondolin, page 243.

Chapter End Notes

At long last, finished as of 2008.