Eladar, The Star-Father by Cirdan

Chapter 1

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            Tuor woke up to the warm sunlight streaming through his window.  He rarely slept in, but this day was an exception, and what a wonderful exception it was!  It felt good to have a full night of rest.  His body felt refreshed.  He was happy.  He could honestly say that.  He was plain and simply happy.  He yawned and stretched, twisting his body left and right and listening to his body crackle in delight at the prospects of another wondrous day in Gondolin.  Perhaps there was still time for him to catch a late breakfast with his beloved Idril.

            “He’s awake!  At last!”  Glorfindel’s voice was melodious, as always, but it shattered the soft chirping of birds and the midmorning sun that was so serene.  Tuor found the Lord of Golden Flower not at the windowsill, as he had supposed, but in his very bedchamber.

            Tuor’s eyes widened.  He sat up right away as if he had been doused with cold water.  “Where’s Idril?”

            “Preparing for the feast,” Ecthelion supplied.  He restrained Glorfindel from jumping onto the bed to rock the mortal awake because, well, obviously, Tuor was already awake.

            “Feast?” Tuor said.  He had lived in Gondolin for many years and had never known there to be a feast on this spring day, whatever the day happened to be.

            “We know you’re unaccustomed to having other hands aid you in preparations, so we volunteered to personally attend to you,” Glorfindel said cheerfully.  “You'll be more comfortable with us than with others.  No allowances for your mortal ways this time, Tuor son of Huor.  That is the order of King Turgon.  We’re to scrub you clean, scent your skin, dress your hair—all of the proper preparations for a man of your stature.”

            Tuor flushed.  “I can bathe myself.”

            “So you’ve always said, and the King has permitted you to do so before, but not today.”  Glorfindel tugged at the bangs of Tuor’s disheveled hair.  “Oh, I will have fun combing out this mess and lathering it with the most fragrant waters.  Do you think maybe a braid here and here?” he said to Ecthelion.

            Tuor pulled away.  He rose hastily, blankets pulled around himself, and slipped into a pair of breeches.  “I will make whatever preparations are necessary.  Didn’t I do so adequately for my own wedding?  I don’t need your help.”

            “Ah, but even then, we did provide you with some assistance,” Ecthelion reminded Tuor.  “And in all honesty, I think today’s feast is going to be even more important than that of your wedding.  The entire city has been abuzz since sunrise.  We would’ve awakened you earlier, but we thought it best that you enjoy a full night’s rest.”

            “What is this feast you speak of?” Tuor asked as he ran his fingers through his hair.  They were right.  He was rather mussed.

            “King Turgon has ordered a high feast to be held in honor of your union with Idril,” Glorfindel said.  “Idril informed her father of the joyous news this morning ere the sun had risen.”

            Tuor reddened.  “What do you mean?  That… that she told her father about… us?”

            “But of course!  He is her father and the King of Gondolin.  He has the right to know,” Ecthelion said.

            Tuor felt himself turning even redder.  So all of Gondolin knew that they had at last consummated their marriage.  He wondered if they thought it odd that they had waited so long before becoming united in the flesh.  Something about the bright glint in Glorfindel’s eyes made Tuor’s ears flush as well.  How was he to know that kissing was not the union of the bodies that everyone talked about?  He hadn’t known any women for most of his life!

            “Why are you blushing like that?” Glorfindel inquired innocently; ah, but the slight upturn of the right corner of his mouth and his eyes did not speak of innocence.  “Come, Tuor, you and Lady Idril are wedded.  There’s no reason to be abashed about your mutual affections.”  He leaned forward suggestively, and for the first time, Tuor felt himself reacting to Glorfindel’s playful flirting.  Glorfindel was as golden-haired as Idril, and though Tuor had no such feelings for Glorfindel, his blood stirred at the reminder of his recent night of passion with his wife.

            “Glingal!” Ecthelion cried sternly.  He grabbed Glorfindel by the shoulder and pulled him away from Tuor’s weak mortal body.

            Glorfindel took firm hold of Ecthelion’s wrist, pulled him forward, and flipped him over.  Luckily, Tuor had moved away, though more because of Glorfindel than because of this sudden, unexpected tumble.  A less experienced fighter would’ve ended up on his back, but Ecthelion was not caught off-guard by his friend.  He tucked his legs under him, took hold of Glorfindel, and threw him with all his might as soon as his feet found firm ground.  Glorfindel twisted like a cat midair and launched himself at Ecthelion.  They wrestled upon Tuor’s bed, and Tuor could do nothing but stare in horror as his face burned at the thought of the two tussling on the very place where he and Idril had made love in like fashion.  After several moments of contesting their strength, Glorfindel ended up atop Ecthelion, and Tuor could not prevent his mind from straying.  How would it be like to have Idril straddle him so?  With golden-hair streaming down her back and chest heaving from their kisses and embraces…

            “Tuor!”  It took Tuor a moment to distinguish Glorfindel's voice from that imagined voice of his wife.

            The blood drained immediately from Tuor’s passion, and he became a fierce red as he burned in the embarrassment of his own most private thoughts.  “Yes?”

            "We'd appreciate it if you didn't think of us as—"

            “The feast,” Ecthelion interrupted.  “We must properly cleanse and adorn you for the feast.”  He slapped Glorfindel on the arm and herded them both to the bath.

            Much to Tuor’s surprise, the two Elf-lords joined him in the waters.  They no longer heeded his objections. They scrubbed him clean with many different soaps and waters, and they scented his hair with wisteria.  Tuor hated to have his hair braided, but Glorfindel would listen to none of that this time.  A silver coronet of garnets was place atop his head.  They refused to let him dress himself too.  Every fold of his white robes had to be perfectly in place, and they fastened about his waist a belt of silver.  When all was in order, the Elf-lords stepped back and looked with great liking at their work.

            “He looks perfect, Isil.”  Glorfindel’s voice was warm with affection.

            “He does indeed, Anar,” Ecthelion agreed, and his fair voice was also full of emotion.  “How he has grown since coming to Gondolin!” Irrationally enough, Tuor felt himself beaming inwardly at the praise, and he was proud that he pleased them so.  It was as if Ecthelion and Glorfindel had at some point decided to become Tuor’s fosterparents, and their insistence on invading his life was what made them most like family.  They led him to the Tower of the King.

            "Is it customary to celebrate the union of two lovers or is this feast held only because Idril is the King’s daughter?” asked Tuor.

            “Usually such an occasion is celebrated in one year’s time, but this is especially important because Idril is the King’s daughter.  The King of Gondolin has been without a proper heir from his own lineage for a long time,” Ecthelion said.

            Suddenly, the light dawned on Glorfindel and he burst out into uproarious laughter.  “Do you think we are celebrating the consummation of your marriage with the King’s daughter?”  Glorfindel doubled over and tried to hold his insides as he struggled to fight his bouts of laughter.  Ecthelion, though slightly more controlled, was no less amused.  Tuor blushed to the roots of his hair.

            At last, when he was more composed and his laughter had become a mere chuckle, Ecthelion clasped his hand on Tuor’s shoulder.  “Forgive us.  We knew not that yesterday night was your first time.”  Tuor only blushed harder at that.

            “You need not feel awkward,” Glorfindel assured Tuor, though that constant chuckling did little to make Tuor feel better.  “Many Elven couples do not immediately join their bodies after wedding, and it is often many years before their love brings forth a child.  Our own Ecthelion here was a late bloomer.”

            Then the full import of their words at last dawned upon Tuor.  “Idril is with child?”  The two Elf-lords nodded.  Tuor felt his heart well with unimaginable joy.

            "It will be a boy, Idril says," Ecthelion added.  “When he is born in one year’s time, he will be appointed Heir Apparent of Gondolin.  You are accounted as an eladar now.”

            “Eldar?  But I am of the Edain!” Tuor protested.  “Surely I cannot be accounted among the Eldar simply because of my marriage to one of your kind, for was Beren not mortal despite his marriage to Luthien the Fair?”

            “Eladar, not Eldar,” Ecthelion said more slowly for Tuor’s mortal hearing.

            “Star-father?”

            “Elf-father,” Glorfindel corrected.

            Ecthelion paused in his stride, and his two companions stopped as well.  Ecthelion was silent for many moments and looked thoughtfully at Tuor, and Tuor was reminded of the brightness in those eyes at that moment when they’d first met, now so many years ago, when the Lord of the Fountain had seemed to see visions in the grey cloak of Ulmo.

            At last, Ecthelion said, “Ah, but did Huor not say to King Turgon ere the end: ‘From you and from me a new star shall arise.’  Never have I forgotten the words that Huor spoke to our King before the host of Gondolin departed from the Battle of Unnumbered Tears.”

            “Oh, excellent!” Glorfindel said with great cheer, breaking Ecthelion’s more somber mood.  He put one arm around Tuor and his other arm around Ecthelion.  “Then Tuor matches well with you and I, for are you not the Moon and I the Sun?  Henceforth shall you be known as Tuor Eladar, the Star-father.”

            “We should be getting to the feast,” Tuor said awkwardly, squirming under Glorfindel’s bright gaze.

            Ecthelion nodded in agreement.  “Our fates await us.”

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Chapter End Notes

Notes:  “From you and from me a new star shall arise.” (S. Ch. 20)  The referenced first meeting of Tuor and Ecthelion is in Unfinished Tales.  Glorfindel is nicknamed Anar and Glingal for his golden hair.  Ecthelion is nicknamed Isil (and Belthil, though that didn’t show up in this story) for his silver hair.  Anar and Isil are the earlier forms of Anor and Ithil, names for the Sun and the Moon.  Tuor is named Eladar in XII. 234-5.  Elven pregnancy lasts one year, and the Elves celebrate the day they were begotten rather than their birthday.  Fertilization in humans doesn’t occur immediately, but I’m assuming Elven fertilization is a bit different since it involves the joining of the spirit as much as that of sperm and egg.