Current mood:

accomplished

Four years later...

If anyone still cares, I give you part three. I nearly have HotGF finished, because even though I have been dead and gone from LJ and writing for years, I cannot let this go unfinished. I can't stop thinking about it until it's done!


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

At long last.....PART THREE:





Chapter One:

We had fared battle well, I mused as we passed through the Gates, our men's feet lighter for hearing the singing and cheering of our women awaiting us in the city. Few were wounded, and fewer yet were missing or known dead. Most of us were returning wearier and a little more experience than when we had left. I was among those who had first tasted battle in Nirnaneth Arnoniead - as it would later be called by by the historians - who made up perhaps two-thirds of our number.

I walked at Turgon's side, with Rog and Galdor. Our men trailed behind us - eager to return to their homes. Turgon was the only one of us not afoot, somehow we had managed to find a horse for him. My own feet were sore, my arms tired from bearing my spear home along with another's who was wounded and unable to carry his own. My calves ached from yesterday, when it was my turn to carry the end of a stretcher with a wounded man upon it. He was grateful to be borne, and so I had not minded too much then.

The cut on my left forearm from a stray arrow was mildly inflamed, but I was not concerned about where it was hot and swollen. Battlefield salve might cure many wounds, but not all. Turgon's nose was beginning to heal quite nicely, due to his vain reapplication of salve twice daily. I pointed out to him that all the salve in the world could not make him beautiful, but surely Idril wouldn't mind too much?

For that, I was cast out of his bedroll in the middl the the night, which was when I had been so imprudent to have stated it.

I repented later, and was forgiven my transgression.

The day was bright and mild, two weeks after we had left here; as we had made better time returning than going, as going we had to be careful to keep the men fresh for battle, and there were no such restraints now. Our women had decorated in our absence to keep their hands busy from worry, and banners waved from the roofs of every house in sight. Likewise, they were well-dressed, I noted, as we entered the city itself.

Apparently our return was an occasion for feasting as well as mourning, for the smells were all around, and all our hungers were filled within moments of being embraced by Gondolin. We had beautiful women, wonderful food and drink, and were invited to rest. Turgon hadn't any addresses to make, other than to say:

"Go, and have my blessing."

And with that, our ranks broke, and men were everywhere, embracing wives, playing with children, going into the house courtyards for meals, calling out to one another invitations to feasts. Turgon dismounted, and distracted, I caught an armful of soft, sinewy warmth, with pleasant curves that tucked herself into a tight hug around my neck. I buried my face in the long wavy golden hair that I recognized, and wrapped my arms tightly around her slim waist. "Idril!" I laughed. She kissed my neck and let me go, leaping atop her father in much the same way.

Ecthelion stood to one side, smiling pleasedly. Maeglin glowered from where he stood, holding the horse's head. Turgon took her hand and mine and would have taken us to the palace to eat, but I caught him. "Turgon, why don't you eat with me? I'm sure your house can join, our grounds are large and gardens spacious."

He looked at me as if I were brilliant. "Yes, they are, aren't they? So we shall. Maeglin, Ecthelion - would you join us as well?"

"Certainly." Ecthelion bowed in a courtly manner and departed.

Not to be shown up by Ecthelion, Maeglin purred, "Of course, my Lords." He scurried off to gather his house.

Idril looked over at me, and her lips tightened, but she gave no other sign of distaste at Maeglin's having been invited. Tired though I was, I figured he would be easiest to deal with on my territory, thus on my terms, and with my friends all about.

We went to my house, and were greeted eagerly. Not moments later, as Turgon and Idril and I scurried right alongside my men and their women, children playing underfoot Ecthelion reappeared, with his house in tow, bringing along their own feast.

They were welcomed warmly, and soon the terraces and balconies and gardens were full of people, as Turgon's house arrived, bearing platters that made the tables creak. Maeglin's house came next, surly and dark, the women dirty and the children beasts of rotten temper. They brought little, and carried away more, afterwards, and we let them have it, with our blessings.

We ate, and then the tales and lays began, of our deeds, and heavily laden with the stories of the fallen, and their fates. We wept even as we smiled, and when the sun set the lamps were lit, and the Houses' gardens shone aglow, everywhere there were folk gathered beneath the starlight.

The children piled on one another to sleep like puppies in the grass, until their mothers realized with a start how late the hour had grown, and woke them to herd them home. The men remained for more wine, and the companionship of our fellows who understood the losses more truly than the women did, however kind creatures they were.

Drunken, they parted ways and stumbled home, filling the streets with songs both sad and brave.

When the last had gone, Turgon and I stood in the wreckage of my gardens, and saw the swaying, bobbing lanterns home. Then we stood there longer, and he drew me against his chest, leaning on the stone walls, and we admired the glittering stars at length.

I grew cold, and pulled my cape tighter around me, the scarlet a purple black in the starlight.

"Should we go in?" He asked me, voice slurred with exhaustion and wine.
"Yes." I answered back sleepily, and left the warmth of his embrace, taking his hand and pulling him along behind me.

***

We lay in the bed, face to face, looking into one another's eyes, sharing intimacy. I trailed my fingertips across the scab on his nose.

"I was so afraid, in that moment, that I'd lost you."

Turgon smiled, and toyed with the turquoise necklace on my chest. "And never was I so glad to see your face." He smiled gently, then frowned. "This is fading. Twice you have repaired it this decade. Would you ask a replacement of me?" He asked, seeking my eyes with his.

"No. Always my first. I would have no other." I reassured him of my love.

He smiled hestitantly.

I kissed him, and pulled him atop me.

Our passion rose like sparks from a fire, and like the skittering, licking flames we touched, embraced, caressed. I rejoiced in all the sensations, reveled in giving him pleasure. We kissed, and I thrust between his thighs, taking our time, looking into each other's eyes.
When our passions had risen enough that we could no longer deny release, he moaned quietly, hot, intense; and I tucked my head low against his neck and groaned, brimming with my love for him, spilling both physically and emotionally. My breath caught, and panting, I would have sobbed, but for I did not know why I craved to do so, and I feared my urge to so much that I resisted.

I lay forward on his chest, my wieght to one side, and turned my face away from him.
"Are you quite sure, Fin?" He asked gently, after a moment.

I closed my eyes against the pain that nickname caused me. "Yes, my dearest." I answered.

"Why would you ask this pledge of me?" His fingers traced my pierced ear.

"I cannot say." I answered, my guard rising.

"Cannot, or will not?"

I tensed. "Musn't; my love." I turned and pulled his head down onto my chest gently, stroking his hair through my fingers.

He did not press me further.

Chapter Two:

The battle was two and a half years behind us when we got news of the outside world once more.
After the retreat from the fight, the sons of Feanor fled many ways, and many peoples fled to Doriath, and to the Havens. Morgoth sent forth his orcs after them, and ravaged all within their reach. The Havens also were laid in ruin, and the people of Cirdan were slain or enslaved, but many escaped by ship to the Isle of Balar and rebuilt for themselves security.

Now, when Turgon heard this, he became concerned, and gathered up seven men, volunteers only, in secret, from the noble houses. None from my House went, but those chosen he sent to Cirdan after a letter by messenger, and on seven light, fast ships sent them out onto the sea into the West. He had done this once before, I learned, long ago; before his father's death. None had ever returned, and no word ever came of them again.

It was twenty one years before we became involved with the world once more.

And during that time, Gondolin slumbered in the state that she was in, and for a long time, things were much the same as before our leaving, but for the wounds taken that yet healed, and mourning songs still sung.

Turgon's dreams began again, and preceeded the events to follow later. His manners also grew strange; he would wander awake by night through his city, running his hands over the smooth stone, sitting in his gardens to watch the doves sleep. And I feared for him, because this was what elves in mourning did when they faded away to nothing. They grew fond of life like an old creature dying, and wasted, wraithlike, niether sleeping nor eating, until peace came to them at last.

I feared for him.

Chapter Three:

It had just passed noon one day in early summer, and I was keeping scribe duty for Turgon and Meaglin once more, my hair tied back and my fingers smudged with ink, while I listened to them argue and describe plans for the renovation of the market center, which was needing to be replaced once more.

A tumult rose up from the city, and a messenger entered the chamber swiftly. "My King, the guards of the Gate come, and the trumpets are blown, and they bring to you prisoners who found entry by the Hidden Way."

Turgon stood, and Maeglin also rose, and they departed swiftly. I also made haste, ink besmudged and scruffy or no, after them.

At the top of the steps down into the gardens Turgon paused, Maeglin beside him, for the throng of gaurdsmen and people were already gathered hence. I stepped up beside Turgon and gazed in wonder at the tall Man dressed all in skins, wearing a cloak whose majesty we had never seen, and beneath it, elvish armor - indeed Turgon's own, that he previously had left in Nevrast at Ulmo's bidding - rough, bearded, and his guide: an elf who might have once been of our kin, but had long taken on the looks of a wanderer and thrall.

Turgon seemed to know this Man, and even I felt the sight of him familiar, even though I had not but met Huor and Hurin in all my time. Indeed, he bore resemblence to them both, but moreso Huor, in that he was tall.

The Man was gazing up quietly at the King's tower above us, squinting against the glare of the sun. I followed his stare, and beheld Idril standing at the window of her room, her handmaids beside her, looking below. Idril leant gently against the sill as I watched, her eyes on the Man.

Turgon spoke, and said, regaining the Man's attention; "Welcome, Tuor of the Land of Shadows. Thy coming was set in our books of wisdom, and it has been written that there would come to pass many great things in the homes of the Gondothlim when thou came hither."
Then Tuor replied, and I recognized his name as that the son of Huor, and Turgon's words as reference to the notes he had penned after returning home from the battle. "Behold, o father of the City of Stone, I am bidden by him who maketh deep music in the sea, and who knoweth the minds of Elves and Men, to say unto thee that the days of Release draw nigh. There have come to the ears of Ulmo whispers of your dwelling and your hill of vigilance against the evil of Melkor, and he is glad: but his heart is wroth and the hearts of the Valar are angered who sit in the mountains of Taniquetil, seeing the sorrow of the thraldom of the Nodoli and the wanderings of Men; for Melkor ringeth them in the Land of Shadows beyond hills of iron. Therefore have I been brought by a secret way to bid you number your hosts and prepare for battle, for the time is ripe."

Turgon's shoulders squared stubbornly, and he replied; "That I will not do, though it be The words of Ulmo and all the Valar. I will not adventure this my people against the terror of the Orcs, nor emperil my city against the fire of Melkor."

"Nay, if thou dost not nare are greatly then will the Orcs dwell for ever and posess in the end most of the mountains of the Earth, and cease not to trouble both Elves and Men, even though by other means the Valar contrive hereafter to release the Nodoli; but if thou trust now to the Valar, though terrible the encounter, then shall the Orcs fall, and Melkor's power be minished to a little thing. " Tuor answered him.

Turgon took one step down, and drew himself up passionately. "I am King of Gondolin, and no will should force me against my counsel to emperil the dear labor of long ages gone."
"Then I am bidden to say that men of the Gondothlim," Tuor looked about him at the crowd, "repair swiftly and secretly down the river Sirion to the sea, and there build them boats and go seek back to Valinor: lo! the paths thereto are forgotten and the highways faded from the world, and the seas and mountains are about it, yet still dwell there the Elves on the hill of Kor and the Gods sit in Valinor, though their mirth is minished for sorrow and fear of Melkor, and they hide their land and weave about it inacessible magic that no evil come to its shores. Yet still might thy messengers win there and turn their hearts that they rise in wrath and smite Melkor, and destroy the Hells of Iron that he has wrought beneath the Mountains of Darkness."

Angry that Tuor might turn to his people rather than he, Turgon spoke loudly, with irriation and mockery in his tone. "Every year at the lifting of winter have messengers repaired swiftly and by stealth down the river that is called Sirion to the coasts of the Great Sea, and there builded them boats whereto have swans and gulls been harnessed or the strong wings of the wind, and these have sought back beyond the moon and sun to Valinor; but the paths thereto are forgotten, and the highways faded from the world, and the seas and mountains are about it, and they that sithin hin in mirth reck little of the dread of Melkor, or the sorrow of the world, but hide their land and weave about it inacessible magic, that no tidings of evil come ever to their ears. Nay, enough of my people have for years untold gone out to the wide waters never to return, but have perished in the deep places or wander now lost in the shadows that have no paths; and at the coming of next year no more shall fare to the sea, but rather will we trust to ourselves and our city for the warding off of Melkor; and thereto have the Valar been of scant help aforetime."

With that, he made a sweeping gesture to dismiss all but the head guardsmen, and seated himself on the top step as if weary, putting his face in his hands and rubbing his brow. I looked warily at Maeglin, this was the first I had ever heard of Turgon sending out men of our people beyond the twice I had known of - the seven recently and those I had been told of years after.

Maeglin met my eyes for but a moment, then shifted his away.

No doubt, he was the reason I had heard very little of anything.

Tuor also sat, on the edge of the fountain, and turned his eyes to the ground and said nothing more. His guide sat gracefully at his feet, back to the stone of the fountain, and pulled his knees up to hide his face. I stood beside my lover for a great length of time, and at last he brought up his head, and looked to where Tuor sat, and Voronwe his guide.
Heaving a great heavy sigh, Turgon rose and gracefully went down the steps. When his shadow fell upon Voronwe, Tuor raised up his head, and Turgon said to him, "Stay with me, and be of my favor, dwell even in my halls with me, if you would."

To this Tuor answered, "I would."

And it was so.

Chapter Four:

“Tuor, you fool!” Idril screeched as Tuor thundered past, passing very near to her, startling her mount.

But she was smiling.

It was a lovely day, and we had gone out riding on the plains of Tumladen, enjoying the crisp fall wind that whipped at our hair. From the first, Tuor had been at the mercy of Idril’s affections, as even had I. But I might dare to tease her, and he was more daring than I. He seemed to know when he pushed his limits, yet at the same time, it seemed that to Idril, he could never reach them. We all had grown to love him. He had been here for but a turning of the seasons, and it felt as if he had been here all along.

He was like unto the brother I had never had. Ecthlelion was my dearly beloved teacher and playmate, but Tuor surpassed him in the nearness to my heart. His step had grown lighter, his look less grieved, since he had come; as if some great healing had taken place here. He was not the only one who glowed brighter, however.

Idril had never been so happy in all the time I had seen her. She was beginning to know the greatest joy of her long life.

Laughing, she spurred her horse, catching even with him ahead. They beat each other with twigs, dropping the reigns, laughing profusely. Their joy was contagious, but I felt as if I were an extra wheel on a fast cart. Nowhere to go, yet unable to leave. It was disconcerting, but if they were to notice me, all would be well again.

They had a tendency to do that, forget that I was there.

It wasn’t like the deep, fiery love I had for Turgon that encompassed my soul. It was something else, the love between a man and a woman. I could watch them, or I could simply ride away quietly and find the one to whom my life was devoted.

I chose the latter.

I found him alone in his office, parchments before him, a quill in his hand, perusing matters of state. He was gazing out the window at the sky, lost in a daydream. I brushed past his desk, and seated myself in his lap, treating him to some unexpected attention. He murmured appreciation, something akin to “What has gotten into you?” And I proceeded to attemt to smother him.

Why watch Idril and Tuor flirt and play and never get around to kissing, when I could go straight home and get what I wanted immediately?
Life in the Hidden City was good. It had to be, you see. There was so little time left for
us.

Chapter Five:

Idril and Tuor married in the spring, seven years after he had made passage to the Hidden City. I was not opposed to it, and Turgon, seeing her love for the man, and knowing she had been long alone; permitted it. He not only permitted it, he blessed their union, with great feasting and much joy.

Only Meaglin was unhappy, loathing and disgusted looks were heaped and piled upon Tuor and I in the corridors, not that we particularly cared. Tuor himself was too happy to notice.

On the day of Idril’s wedding, the whole city turned out, crowding into the King’s Square before the tower; garlanding and wreathing every post, sign, and outcrop they could find. White flowers left a heavy perfume in the air, making my head spin. Tuor was fidgeting in his new wedding garments.

Ecthelion came to collect us, and we went down to the square, taking our places beside Turgon and the other Lords on one side at the base of the marble stairway; we faced the ladies on the other side, flushing in the heat and with excitement.

From beside me, I heard Tuor gasp and stare. Turgon, on the other side of me, smiled in satisfaction. The bride, glowing and resplendent in her gown and veil, came slowly down the steps. She seemed to be unable to look at Tuor. She glanced at her father, and I; and Ecthelion, then around at the crowd assembled. She seemed relieved to have found no sign of Maeglin. I was pleased that he was not there either.

Among our kind, to be married was simple. Her father took her hand, and Tuor’s hand; and placed his daughter’s hand in the son of Huor’s. Now linked, the two turned to face the crowd, and a great cheer went up. Singing began, and the feast was laid out. Tuor and Idril partook first, and then the couple retreated to their bridal chambers. They would not be seen again for a month. The imposed isolation cemented marriages; usually this was the time when the young couple found out whether being married to one another was a good idea or not, and if it was, children were often conceived at this time.

Apparently, Idril Celebrindal and Tuor son of Huor were meant to be.

Glowing, Idril came to me immediately after the isolation had ended, to tell me that she had felt the spark of new life.

I was awed, and overjoyed. Idril was our dearest treasure, and the whole city was in her thrall. Turgon doted, Tuor worried, and I felt myself fiercely protective. I would not let her walk anywhere alone, and although at first she was flustered with the attention; soon she grew cross and snappish.

But that time passed, and her father and I found ourselves with Tuor waiting in an alcove, silent with worry, unspeaking, unable to look at one another. Then a baby’s cry broke the still air; and the whole city breathed again. Outside the sounds of celebration rose up, as Idril’s handmaidens rushed to us and to the windows, crying “Idril is delivered of a fine son! All is well!”

And so, all was well.



And btw, all this will be heavily revised and perfected when I am done. If no more perils befall and prevent me, that is.

Fuck, I forgot how to do and lj-cut! ARGH!