Golden-Haired by Anu

Golden-Haired

Turgon is not quite who Glorfindel made him out to be.

Read Golden-Haired

I was born the second son of Fingolfin, who was son of Finwe himself, first king of the Noldor.  I will speak as quickly and plainly as I might, for I am now in the Halls of my fathers, and my life is one of those things I would rather not think of.

My name is Turgon, and I was raised in Valinor,  before my cousin Feanor made his gems or took his mighty oath, before even the coming of the Edain.

My first love was Ecthelion, who was half-Noldo and half-Teleri; a bastard unclaimed by either of his parents. Both his mother and father had remarried, he was the cause of their falling out with one another – for he was born before either had reached their majority, and he was no one’s son, but a project of all the Teleri, and the Noldor also provided for his welfare.

When he and I were young we ran wild on the shores, and played naked in the sea; and there with us were my cousins, the sons of Feanor and the sons of Finarfin, and on the whole it was a great and innocent time.

My sister Aredhel spent more time with the sons of Feanor than did I, and my brother Fingon spent most of his time with the sons of Finarfin; I myself spent time occasionally with my cousin Finrod, Finarfin’s son, for he and I were close in age, but it was with Ecthelion that I was closest.

Fingon was fond of climbing out his window of nights, as my mother would not permit us out after dark, and if my father knew where he went he cared not. The only one he assured was inside after dusk was Aredhel, beloved daughter and youngest of us three.

This left me plenty of time for my own pursuits, and I spent many nights out with Ecthelion, either among the Teleri or camping in the forests near the shores. Ecthelion was the grandest of playmates, fearless and frightening, a year my junior, he led me into many things I would not else have tried. When he and I were not terrorizing that blissful shore, or returning pranks on my sister and my cousins the sons of Feanor, we spent our time alone.

Ecthelion loved the quiet of the forest, and the crash of waves, the taste of fish, and we would run until the sweat ran down our backs, and lay laughing in the sand for hours and days. I remember the first time he kissed me.

I had gone home on one of my rare visits, and was lying in my bed, listening to Fingon creep out his window and run away, toward Finarfin’s encampment. There was a quiet rustle, and the light from my window was blocked. I sat up, and Ecthelion entered the room. We had often shared my bed, as he was not always garunteed one of his own; and if my parents minded they never said.

He crawled atop the covers, then slid in beside me. His boots hit the floor with a thunk, thunk; and he coiled around my right side.

“Turgon?” He asked softly.

I turned my head toward him. His silver eyes were luminous, lost in the darkness of his hair, shining silver in the moon. He did not speak again, then, but leaned forward instead, and his warm mouth brushed mine. He pulled back, guaging my reaction. We stared at one another for a moment, then, my heart pounding, I leaned forward and kissed him. He was very still, but his lips moved slowly, and I licked them. He sucked my tounge, then released me.

The moment over, we curled together, and sleep was a long time coming.

The next time we shared my bed, it was just after my majority, I was now fully grown. Precocious Ecthelion considered himself grown now also, but his years numbered only forty and nine.

This time, Ecthelion was not so passive in his kisses. I knew that my brother was going out of nights, and that he was likely to have made these explorations long since, but where had Ecthelion learned these things? I did not ask him, nor did I care.

That night we touched, and stroked. We had seen each other in the rough many times before, but Ecthelion seemed to hold all the expierence of this intimacy. It was he who led me to undress, he who prepared himself, and seated himself upon me. We both were quiet, but it was difficult – for neither of us had ever felt these sensations before, and it was a whole world bright and new that we tried to discover all in one night.

We spent more and more time away from home then, even making ourselves a semi-permananent camp in the forest, but it was subject to frequent raids by my cousins and in no way truly private.

And so it was, before many more months had passed, we were discovered by my mother. Coming into my room early one morning, for some purpose known only to herself, she had exited as quickly and quietly as she had entered.

I did not hear of it until that eve, when Aredhel sought me out on the shore to tell me that my father wanted conference with me.  With a wary look at Ecthelion, and a shrug from Fingon; I went.

My father wanted a conference, indeed. He introduced me to a young lady from the house of Finarfin named Elenwe, and over dinner told me in no uncertain means that I was to discontinue my relations with Ecthelion. I may keep him as my friend, but we should be companions no more. I was to marry Elenwe, and no more might be spoken of it.

Ecthelion was furious when I told him of it. He shouted, cursed, kicked sand at me. “Marry the wench then, see if I care!” He ran away down the beach to the camp of Teleri, and I did not see him again for a long time.

I married Elenwe then, thinking Ecthelion no longer cared for me, and I knew in my heart that however I loved him, I needed him not. I needed not Elenwe either, I did not require anyone’s love to be whole, or so I thought.

Elenwe and I were wed a year and a day before Ecthelion returned to me. He and I resumed our relationship as if nothing had occurred. But Elenwe was bitterly jealous; and powerless – we lived now in a house of our own, and she would not dare to speak of it with my father. Ecthelion ignored her, and I had to admit, at times I did also myself.

I feel pity now for Elenwe, for she was wed young to a husband that did not, and could not love her. Perhaps that was why she was so bitter, treated me so hatefully. The longer Ecthelion and I were together, the more she hated me, I think. Yet I could not give up Ecthelion for her, and would not. I did not love him either, only desired him. He was a comfort, she was the shrieking unhappy harpy I left at home.

Who could blame me? None knew, and if they did, they would have understood. Elenwe somehow, out of my bitter nights doing my duty, ignorant of the workings of a woman’s body but fascinated nonetheless, became pregnant. I softened toward her, bore her sharp tounge with more patience, but still did not turn my heart to her. She was still very angry with me, and at times I was subject to physical attack, and must restrain her. Ecthelion wisely stayed away at these times.

It was at this time the trees of Valinor were destroyed, and the Valar asked for Feanor’s Silmarills. He was given time to consider this, and the gems were stolen by Melkor. Thus it was the Noldor came to leave Valinor, and we became exiles. I went also, with all my kin.

Feanor would have the Teleri join us, but they would not, nor aid us with their ships. We would have stolen the ships, and taken them by force, but the Teleri fought us, with sword and bow. After many were slain or injured, we sailed those ships away; and with me I took Elenwe – but Ecthelion had stood at my side throughout the fight – and he had slain more of his own kin than had I.

And thus after the Kinslaying at Aqualonde, when my own hands were bloodied; was the Doom of Mandos spoken over us.  I still hear the words of that Vala, for they are written in my mind as well as my heart, and Elenwe grew dispaired and frantic at the thought of leaving Valinor for lands unknown where our every deed was pre-doomed to fail. I had to lock her below decks with Ecthelion for to keep her company, for she recognized neither him nor I in her madness; and I hoped that with enough time her sense would return.

With that doom upon us, my uncle Finarfin turned back, and many of his people;  but his sons did not return with him, preferring to stay with their cousins, the sons of Feanor and Fingon and I. 

We sailed on, and soon came to thick pack ice at the edges of the sea of Helcar. Thus it was the ice closed around the ships, and the only way out was then to cross it, miles and miles of frozen wasteland. Feanor stole then the ships, leaving my father’s people to cross that vast wasteland.

Ecthelion and I carried Elenwe between us, for she was great with child, and by the second night we must stop, for she must bear her child. Ecthelion and I were men, and knew only to keep her warm while she labored; but her labor was long, and left her very weak. At the end, she cursed Ecthelion, and put her hands around my throat, and by the time Ecthelion had loosed them, she had given birth to a daughter, and lay pale, her life leaving her there on the ice.

She could not be saved, and Ecthelion and I were tender as we laid drifts of snow over her; it was he who carried the baby inside his shirt then, for my neck was very bruised and I had much trouble to breathe. Thus it was Ecthelion who named my daughter, and afterward I could not bear the name of Elenwe to be spoken, for great was my guilt. It was I who had given her such an unhappy life, who had brought upon her madness with my desicision, who had been the cause of her early death.

Idril was now Ecthelion’s focus, he spent long hours crooning to her, and when he brought her to women for to nurse, he was more kind and tender than any mother. Poor Ecthelion, he had always been half-mad and wild, to see him now gentled, tamed by the tiny girl was a shock to me.  He was fond of calling her Celebrindal, or silver feet, for she had come out feet-first into the world; and liked to poke her tiny toes out of the buttons of his shirt when she rode.

 We settled then, in Beleriand, in a place called Nevrast, and it was there that Ecthelion and I raised my daughter. Events continued on, the Doom of the Noldor coming to pass, first with the death of Feanor, and then with my brother’s saving of Maedhros.

When my daughter was thirty, I knew she needed me not – she had never truly needed me, indeed, except for those first few days of life; and I went on a journey to see my friend of old, Finrod, for I had it in my mind to make myself a kingdom, but no idea as yet how this might be done. I left her there with Ecthelion in Nevrast, and came by the shore, and I was visited by Ulmo in my dreams as we camped.

I remembered then, the city on the hill, Tirion, in the lands of Valinor, and my heart ached to see its like. I went then to the sea, and a place called Vinyamar, and would have stayed and dwelt by the sea forever; but Ulmo came to me, and bade me go into the Vale of Sirion, and I did so. There I discovered the vale of Tumladen, surrounded by mountains, crowned by a hill of stone in the center.  I spoke to no one of this, but went about secretly asking how a city in the image of Tirion might be built, with white towers and many fountains and trees.

It was in the building of the secret city, which I named Ondolinde in the tounge of Valinor, that my heart found all its desires, and a great a beautiful city that was built. From Nevrast I brought masons and tradesmen, crafts of every skill, and among the women that wove for me the banners and tapestries was a woman named Alraxe, who was of the house of my father, that I paid little attention.

She had served for a time in the house of Orodreth, son of Finarfin, which was not far from the other side of the Ecoriath, since she had crossed Helcraxe with us from Valinor. She was not at all important at the time, but during the time the city was nearly finished, she came to me and asked leave to go and return there; taking with her companions and friends who had left also the house of Orodreth to labor for me. I noted at the time that she was with child, and granted her request, trusting her with secrecy.

I think that after she left, she bore that child; and that it was a son, and her bastard gotten off Orodreth son of Finarfin. Whether he ever knew or not, I did not know, and I doubt that she ever made good her plan, to return to him there. The sons of Finarfin soon departed for Valinor, and if I would have told him of my suspicions, I could not now.  I now think that that son so heavy in her womb then later became my greatest companion and love, and I later named him Glorfindel, after bringing my people of Nevrast to my city; when the Eagles had brought me to him.

That tale is told in his memiors, for it is his to tell, but I had only a dream of that golden child at her breast; and knew no more of her or her people after she had left. Thus it was when I brought him to my city I must teach him to speak, and he was very bright; and he quickly endeared himself to me and became close to my heart. In him and in Gondolin, I found the summit of all my heart’s desires – the love of one so pure and unsullied, who held me chiefest in his heart; he was the only one I had ever loved so deeply, yet in me there was still a core that he could not reach, and I was sorrowed.

During this time, I lost Aredhel, who was in my care; she returned many years after, with a grown son named Maeglin. Eol, her captor, followed after, and when he caused the death of my sister; I had no recourse but to see him slain. But her son I kept, and favored, despite the whispers of his evil all around.

Glorfindel did not like him, and I did not interfere, and they avoided one another much of the time.

Maeglin was devoted to me, and I was as flattered by his attention as that of Glorfindel. He was constantly at my side, and I had never the thought of inscest, but it was Maeglin who thought of me thus. I never told Glorfindel, and I doubt not that he never knew – for there was much of which he was not aware. Maeglin would come to me in my study, and while I wrote my decrees would watch me for hours, dark eyes never leaving my face.

One day I turned to him, and before I could speak, he had knelt between my thighs, and was nuzzling as eagerly as any supplicant. My breath caught in my throat, and I reached down to pull him away, but he had undone my laces, and I could no longer stop him. I knew that it was wrong, perhaps the worst thing I had done since the Kinslaying, but I permitted it.

It had been long since a young man desired me so, and my heart was full of Glorfindel and Ecthelion, who had seemed to have outgrown all the love I had to offer them in my cold untouchable heart, and they had long since changed and by the look in their eyes required more of me. I could not, but must bear to see that look – the same that Elenwe had always had – that accusatory, Why can thou not love me truly for myself as I deserve?

With that, Maeglin had gotten himself a grip on my soul, and a hold on my conscience. When he rose up, wiping his mouth, he smiled at me and said, “Now, Uncle, what more would you have of me?”

 I did not answer, but instead pushed him away and fled from him. Glorfindel was more to my tastes, young and strong, valiant and beautiful; and pure to the point of naivete. He was always sweet, in him I was always welcome. I required only that he be there when I needed him in the night, to hold me or to dominate me as the mood suited. Glorfindel was more devoted than Maeglin, I knew, for Maeglin served only his own designs always, and Glorfindel held me foremost always in his heart.

For a time I had tried to wed Glorfindel to Idril, but that had failed. Ecthelion was ever by my side, but he spoke not alone to me, and in his reserve was that which was forgotten but never laid to rest between us – I desired him still, but the ghost of Elenwe would always stand between us; invisible, invincible. His eyes watched me knowingly even now – he knew all of my affairs.

I doubted not that he had watched me on my wedding night, nor that he had been aroused as he slayed the Teleri, whose blood was his own, at my side. I’m sure he knew the moment I bedded Glorfindel, and in his eyes was reproach – he knew of Maeglin too. I wondered if he would ever have beckoned to Glorfindel or Maeglin if it was not for respect of my affairs with them.

Like a confidant that knows all, so I never had to confide, Ecthelion was there. My catalyst, like the stone heart within me.

He and I, surrounded by the city of Gondolin; were the most truly alone people in it. While I had tried to fight it, with Glorfindel and Maeglin, he had embraced it. I was the last person Ecthelion had touched, but I knew he carried no flame for me. The fire between us was forever banked, smouldering until the end of the world.

It was then that my father died and Huor and Hurin came to me. Glorfindel comforted my grieving, and I was soon distracted. Huor was young, his face smooth. I sent him away with Glorfindel and Idril, and spent my time with Hurin. I had never met one of the Edain before, and I was fascinated. He and I talked long hours, and the light in his eyes was of battle not long past, and the fire in his soul warmed the ice of mine.

I was not prone to kisses, nor to tender touches; but on the day I reached out to touch the great thick mass of Hurin’s bushy blonde beard, I was drawn in. We did little more than kiss, and touch lightly with our fingertips, but I was enthralled with the roughness of his hair, the softness of his skin, the heat of his lips. How does one describe the taste of man? All fire and iron, with his very own scent abundant like tilled earth.

And for only one afternoon, we were not-quite lovers; and at the setting of the sun, I found that I did not love him, could not love him anymore than I could Glorfindel or Ecthelion; but that I still felt the most deeply for Glorfindel, and the thing that was, and for Ecthelion, the thing which had been.

He left me and my city shortly after, probably disappointed by cold elven kings with eyes and lips like fire and hearts of stone.

Soon after came the Fifth Battle, and I would not let my brother die alone, like my father had gone.  I mustered my city, and took Glorfindel, and went to the battle knowing I might not return. Maeglin disobeyed me and came with our host – leaving my city with Idril as its only heir and protector.

The battle did not go so well, as is written in the histories. My brother died, and I fled back to Gondolin at Huor and Hurin’s behest and Glorfindel’s coaxing.

Then there was quiet in my city for many years. Maeglin came not to me in that way again; Glorfindel and I were at peace, and apart from the distance between our souls, Ecthelion and I were friends again. I have often wondered and grieved that if Ecthelion had not maintained that distance between us, if we might have fallen completely into one another, melded and merged and became one being with two forms. Such love was not unknown among our kind.

But as it was, I settled for the company of Glorfindel, who loved me with his whole heart; and took up so much vacant space with his prescence, it was easy for me to pretend I did love him fully, so long as he was there. When he and I were apart I knew that I did not, and wondered at the fault in me that made my heart as solid as the granite of Amon Gwareth, that no living thing like love might take root and grow there. Idril, my daughter, saw something of my affliction, and was prone to come and lay her head against my shoulder or my chest; but she spoke not of it, and I was incapable of grieving overmuch for my incapacity to love.

But Idril was spared my cursed existence, she too had within her to power to love. After the coming of Tuor, I saw in her a great love for the tall bushy-bearded, grim faced Man; and remembering my own fascination with Hurin, could not deny her when she wished to wed him.

Their love was happy and their union blessed, it was nothing like my marriage to Elenwe and the misery that was; soon she bore a son, and so quickly was he loved by all – Glorfindel was enamored of him, and Ecthelion bloomed back into brightness as I had once seen him with my daughter. I myself induled the child, and could not deny any of his wants. He was singularly well cared for, the whole city looked after him, and Maeglin went to his forge and mines in the hills, and I saw him not often.

And when Earendil was but seven short years, the long glory of my city came to its end.

We were beset, ensiged. I gave to order to fight for it, but my heart was not in it, for I knew it was doomed to fail. I regretted not that I had not heeded the words of Ulmo, and was powerless as my city was taken. Tuor at last would flee, seeing that the city was lost, and the suffering and sack of my city was loud in my ears.

Ecthelion I knew was down there, I watched him take his death in the fountain, and I felt a rush of anger. I fought at last, with the men of my house about me. I ignored Glorfindel, and the pleas of Tuor to flee the city.

It was then that I threw my crown, foolish thing that it was, regretting all the trouble I had wrought by leaving the fair shore. I went up to my tower to see all my works fail, and taste for myself my part of the Doom of Mandos, and I was sorry I had ever met Elenwe, and I cursed Feanor and his stones.

I knew Tuor would live, and take care of Idril. I knew also that Glorfindel would live to protect Earendil, and that my death would be hard for him. But I was unmoved. I had walked this world for long enough to taste the ashes of my whole life, and I did wish for it to end.

When the tower shook beneath my feet – I had only one regret, and it was that I had never met anyone more worthy of my love than Ecthelion or Glorfindel, and why had the Valar sent them both to me if they knew I should be tortured with the knowledge that I was incapable of love, or other deep feeling in the core of my being?

The Valar were cruel to me, I decided, as my tower fell. It would be better to die of grief than to die never having grieved, as long as I had lived and as many horrors as I had seen. I was born without the ability to bend, and I had never been broken until now – the only thing that could break me was all these long ages in the company of the person I hated most – my own self.

And so I came broken to Mandos’s Halls, and in much need of healing. From here I doubt much I shall ever return, for all the rest in all the ages past and to come is not long enough to soothe or heal my soul.

 

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Chapter End Notes

I really don't know what to say. I wasn't expecting Moody!Turgon either.