House of the Golden Flower by Anu

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Part Two, Chapters 1-11

The longest part by far, I've had to split it in two.

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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.

 

 

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Chapter End Notes

Written in 2003.