House of the Golden Flower by Anu

Part Three, Chapters 9-15

Of the end of our hero.

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.