Current mood:

anxious

HotGF Part 2
Author: Anu (anubeta@lycos.com)
Rating: R
Summary: Glorfindel's life, in his own words.
Warnings: Silmarillion-based.
Pairing: Glorfindel/Turgon.



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 lonliness 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 forbode 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 lonliness, 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.