Kurufinwe and Arakano by Cirdan

Kurufinwe and Arakano

The King of Gondolin summoned the scion of Feanor to the top of Mindon Noldoran, the Tower of the King.

Contrary to the expectations of most, Celebrimbor came.

The grandson of Feanor bowed to the son of Fingolfin.

Celebrimbor bowed and said, "You summoned me, High King of the Noldor?"

The King dismissed the servants before saying, "Let us drop this pretext, Kurufinwe. You know me."

"Argon," Celebrimbor said simply.

"Tyelpe," Argon replied in kind.

"What is it you desire of me?"

"What indeed." Argon looked down at the city. "My brother left Gondolin in my care. I would take the advice of the Messenger of Ulmo and either wage war upon Morgoth or escape down the river of Sirion, yet I know full well that Turgon desires to do neither, trusting in the impregnability of his city. What should I do?"

Celebrimbor shrugged. "The people of Gondolin will follow you regardless of your decision. They believe you to be their king."

Argon gazed coolly at Celebrimbor. "That was not my question. Before we left Tirion, Feanor urged us to come to Middle-earth and defend our kinsmen. He said that our sacrifice would provide the Elves of Valinor with enough time to recover from the corruption of Morgoth and to marshal their forces. Years have passed, and people unnumbered have been slain, yet still the armies of the West have not come. I ask you again: what should I do?"

"Great is the fall of Gondolin," said Celebrimbor, quoting Mandos' Prophecy of the North.

"Great is the victory of the Noldor!" Argon retorted hotly. "What should I do?!"

Celebrimbor's gaze became distant. "If you lead your people out of Gondolin, the Noldor will be victorious, and we shall return to Aman. But Morgoth's poison is strong. Already, too many have forgotten the truth of the Days of Bliss and believe the dark lies about the strife between Feanor and Fingolfin. Civil war will erupt between our families, and the clash will not end until the fair lands of Valinor have been ravished by battle."

"And if we stay cooped up in Gondolin, awaiting certain death?" Argon asked.

"The tragedies that follow will be so great that they shall be graven in the memories of the Elves who return to Aman in sorrow, and even the lies of Morgoth will not be able to stir them to war."

"So I must choose between death in Middle-earth or Aman?" Argon demanded.

Celebrimbor calmly nodded. "That is so."

Argon hit his fist against the balcony guardrail. "Dammit! How can you know this?!"

"The Fate of Arda lay locked within the Silmarils. Feanor saw that Fate and shared his knowledge with me," Celebrimbor said.

Argon smiled wryly. "It was a rhetorical question."

"I know. I thought to answer regardless." Celebrimbor's demeanor remained calm, but his eyes flashed. "What is your decision, Argon?"

Argon sighed. Then his eyes became hard and set. "Let us die here. Those who return to Aman will have peace."

Celebrimbor nodded. "So be it."