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cheerful

Part 3 Chapters 6-10
Ok, you can have some more. Since I've been busting my ass, I hope someone will read this.

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




Chapter Six:

I remember I met him, what was going to become the new most important person in my life.

Tiny, and pink, with his face all curled up and eyes squeezed shut; when Earendil grasped my thumb in his strong little fist, he also grasped my heart. He let go of my hand a few moments later, and turned toward his mother with little lip smacking noises; but he never let go of my heart. He holds it still, it will always be his, as strong as the claim Turgon had upon me.

I can never definitively say who was the greatest love of my life, because how was I to compare my love for Earendil – the child I would never have, my godson – with the love I had for Turgon, my savior, my companion, my thrall?

All I know is the sweetest time of my life was upon me as much as it was for Idril and Tuor. Even Turgon softened under his starched collars for the beautiful child Earendil. If Tuor had won our love, moreso had Earendil. All the city worshipped him, but mine was like unto the gift of his father; to watch him sleep, to nurse, to play with him in all his waking moments, to adore him as the most perfect creature in all the world.

I was besotted with the child, simply, utterly. But at least I was not alone in being cowed.

Many times I caught Earendil sitting on the affairs of state under Turgon’s watchful gaze, putting fistfuls of parchment in his mouth, drooling and smearing the ink beyond comprehension. Ecthelion could be found in the garden, rolling around in the grass making bleating noises to hear the baby’s wonderful laugh. Tuor could sit, covered in drool and other slimes, and smile into space for hours. Idril began speaking a language all her own, and Earendil approved. He mimicked, babbled, began learning.

It was a beautiful thing also; that nothing Maeglin could do would destroy our happiness. In fact, he could not do much that we would notice. He soon left the palace altogther, disdaining Earendil and hating Tuor. He retired to his forge in the hills, and we did not see or hear of him often, but he was still in Gondolin.

Now, if ever I had doubted in Turgon the gift that his daughter had also, of prescience; it was confirmed at this time when he strengthened the watches and wards in the Encircling Mountains beyond. Perhaps he did this because of Earendil, or perhaps it was because of what was to come. I never spoke to him of it, and only heard in offhand ways of his strengthening the watches with fire and arrows, large rocks, and boiling oil. Long had these things been piled in alleys of the city, leftover from its construction, and the rockpiles within the walls sat covered in dust, untouched.

When Earendil was three years old, and talking and walking; he needed his mother less and less, spending more time in the company of Turgon or Ecthelion or Tuor and I. With more time on her hands, she had more room to worry.

And one of the things that worried her most was her family, and Maeglin, and the menace still from Angband.

She came to me one afternoon, as I bounced her son on my knee, pretending he was riding a pony; and confided her concerns. She had been speaking to Tuor about safety, and being a woman; since she had had children her mind had begun to work in different ways. She had decided that if there was ever any attack, Valar forbid, Gondolin was a very bad place to be.

I agreed. Mountains all around, and a plain within; atop the plain a hill of rock with a city on top. It was a very good fortress, but if the mountain walls were ever breached, the end would come swiftly to those in the city, barred from all escape. I had often before thought that Idril possessed foresight, I prayed that she did not now.

She told me of a dream she had had, of this she spoke also with her husband, but she would have my aid also. She had dreamt that Maeglin built a great roaring fire, and flung Earendil in; and would have thrown in herself and Tuor also, but she had awoken before this could come to pass.
She proposed an escape route, not only for her family, but for any that might take it. She asked me what would be required to build a tunnel beneath the Tumladen that would let them out far outside the walls, in safety in case of attack. The way would be well hidden and guarded, as the Gate was now closed, buried by a rockslide outside the walls two years after Tuor’s coming. Now, the plain of Tumladin was of a stone greater than iron, and not easily pierced. Such would take much labor, and many years, and even at that it would be shallow. Yet understanding, she still desired me and Tuor to labor upon such a thing, and with the task set, I chose those men of my house within my mind best suited to secrecy.

Only Tuor and I, and a select few trustworthy members of my house knew, and only because we were involved in the building of it. We took such great care, that when the end came, only those few Idril led would escape, no others finding it. But that is later on in the tale, and Maeglin never knew of the secret way; but the price was paid in what happened after, in the loss of the Gondolindrim at the Fall.


Chapter Seven:


When Earendil was but a child; Maeglin, living so far from the palace and out of our reach for news, was lost for a time.

He was fond of gathering metals in the hills, mining and quarrying, often going far from the reach of the safety of our walls. No one knew what happened to him in that time that he was lost, only that he was gone for a time, and returned; he said, to no ill.

Idril, far-seeing when it came to her cousin’s heart, knew not to belive him. But she did not know where he had been, nor what had happened there. None was ever to know the true details, but the losing of Meaglin had been a precursor, and his return sealed our doom.

The end would not come until Earendil was seven years old.

When he was but five, he and I were fond of walks in the city. Under the caring eye of Gondolin, the little prince learned about horses, baskets, cloth, weaving, sewing, and expanded his vocabulary to new lengths. I kept hold of his hand, and he walked contentedly by my side throughout the city, asking questions, touching things. He was always a tactile, talkative child.

We were in the city’s market quarter, per habit, and Earendil was eyeing some daggers and testing out a wooden sparring sword under the watchful eye of the smith when I stepped away to get him water from the nearest fountain.

When I returned, the smith was animatedly arguing with his wife and a customer outside the shop, and I saw Earendil’s bright tunic disappear into the alley behind. I flew around the corner to find Maeglin kneeling there, the child on his knee. Earendil was excitedly garbling on about the wood sword, and Maeglin had divided his attention between him and I.

Once again, I saw the old malice in him.

“Earendil.” I said. “Come away.”

Earendil looked at me, brow furrowed in concern. He did not argue, and would have slipped down and come to me, but Maeglin held him fast by his little wrist, not yet hard enough to hurt. My anger flared.

“Release him, Maeglin.”

Meaglin quirked a brow, and spoke with that old oiled-silk tone to his voice. “Why should I? This son should be mine. His mother should be mine. This city should be mine. Even you, Glorfindel.”

“You are mad.” I spat at him, and trying not to frighten the boy, laid my hand on his shoulder, to take him by force.

Maeglin laughed and released him. He stood, eyes fixed on me. “Mad? Indeed. Perhaps I am. But you know what I say is truth.”

I felt sweat trickle down the small of my back. Could I hope to escape him with Earendil? I knew how swiftly and surely he could slay. He knew my fear, and whispered to me, “Only give yourself freely to me, Glorfindel, and I will let him go unharmed.”

“Why is that all you want? Do you not want the very city itself?” I was incredulous.

He smiled, as if he knew something I did not and was biding his time. “Not just now. I would merely have a taste of the King’s catamite. In return, I will give you the life of your little prince.”

“Fine. As you wish. Only, let him turn away, you understand?” I could not believe what a whore I had grown, but I would gladly barter anything for the life of Idril’s son.

He nodded assent, and pointed to the wall. I turned to Earendil, sank to my knee. “Bright eyes.” I called him by the name only I used, and his little face sobered. “Turn away, and do not turn back until I tell you, no matter what you hear.” He nodded solemly, and I turned him to face the outside of the alley, toward the street and shops on either side.

Then I went to face my gloating tormentor.

Without ceremony, he grabbed my shoulder roughly and forced my face against the wall. Two swift tugs and he had both our leggings to our knees. He lifted my tunic, and I closed my eyes and put my face against the stone. Pain, like I had never known. Turgon had always been gentle, and I had never had someone so uncaring, unconcerned or so eager as he was. I did not cry out, but I bit my lip until it bled. He pulled my hair as if to pull it out by the roots.

Of a sudden, he jerked away, complete. I breathed again, and heard him dressing himself. When he had done, he turned on his heel and left the alley without another word.

I looked back to see Earendil, still faced away, watching ants in the dust with his head down.

I dressed my own self, saw to it I was in order, and plastered on a smile despite my pain.

“Come now, Earendil. Let’s go home.” He smiled up at me, and slipped his hand in mine. I smiled back, and I felt and tasted blood. It had been worth it.

No one ever knew, because I never told. My shame and dishonor were great enough, it would be too much to bear if any other ever knew. Although, at times, I could swear Idril and Ecthelion looked at me with knowing eyes; and never spoke to me of it, but I doubted not that I was mentioned in some of their secret counsels. But certainly, Turgon never knew, unless Maeglin told him; which I highly doubted, even unto the end. Perhaps it would have been known if there had been more time left to us. It was never repeated, and I took the secret with me to my grave.


And as things went, it wasn’t many more years before I was in it.


Chapter Eight:

In that year just after Earendil turned seven; Turgon reduced the watch. To me he spoke of it, saying only; “I have reduced the watch that has come to nought. The men of this city deserve to enjoy their homes once more.”

I nodded agreement – what was I to say?

As for Idril, she was morose and quiet, moody for lengths of time. On the day that she came to me, she asked if it was finished, and I told her, yes, nearly so. The exit far to the north was still being finished, but it was done. She asked me then how decieved did I think Turgon might be; and I truthfully had to admit that he was now more decived than ever. Maeglin had been mellowed and cheerful since he was lost, he no longer mined or quarried in the hills, and kept Turgon’s counsel to the point of my exclusion. Were it not for the fact that Turgon and I shared nights, I would have had no idea what went on with him. As it was, my information was very much limited.

Idril then asked me what we should do if Turgon should fall completely into Maeglin’s thrall. I had no words, stunned, for she had just named my own greatest fear. She squinted against the bright morning sun, for we were in the gardens, and moved closer on the bench to me. “I have gone to the people.” She admitted. “I asked them if they would take Tuor and my son as kings, if that should come to pass.”

“And what did the people say?” I asked.

“They laughed at me!” Idril was so angry her fists clenched and tears stood in her eyes. “They said that Gondolin would stand as long as Taniquetil or the mountains of Valinor!”

I understood her rage. Our people here in the city of Gondolin had grown proud. They likened themselves to the Valar even, and refused to hear sense. They had never known hunger, or poverty, or war here. Gondolin was a utopia, unmarred by the things that went on elsewhere in the world. Everything here was suspended in timeless bliss, where birth and death were rare, hunger and the poor unheard of. Even Maeglin’s house, slovenly as they were, were Elves of Gondolin, and of a proud and fair race.

I took her hand, did not know what to say that might comfort her.

“I would go to my father, but he is never alone.”

“I doubt that he would believe you anyway, Idril. You saw what he did to me.”

She turned then, embraced me. “Yes, and you did what you had to, you let him be right; and I thank you for that, for sparing me. Now even you cannot speak to him against him, you who have always been faithful and true!”

I returned the embrace and sighed. “No, neither of us can reach him, even as close as he is to us, he is still ever more further away. Perhaps, in time…?”
She released me, shook away her tears. “No, for Maeglin will always be his sister-son, and as long as he lives you and I have no hope of Turgon’s favor again.”

I did not reply to that, only took her hand again. She was right, but there was nothing to be done for it. She nor I could ever desert Turgon, nor abandon him to Maeglin’s deceit. We had only to bear it, and keep trying to turn his ears to hearing.
Maeglin’s traps were very well wrought indeed.


Chapter Nine:

The great feast of Tarnin Austa, or the Gates of Summer, had come again. After the feast at Midnight, we retired to Turgon’s chamber for the night of silence. The entire city was hushed, as I lay before the fire, and Turgon stood on the terrace, overlooking the city for a time.

When he entered he lay down beside me on the hearthrug, and said softly, “So peaceful, and beautiful, this city that I have made.”

I murmed agreement, and pillowed my head upon his shoulder.

“Did you know,” he began again, “That since Tuor came with Ulmo’s warning, I have thought often of leaving it?”

I raised my head to look in his eyes. “And why do you not heed the words of the Valar?”

He sighed heavily, and began stroking my hair. I had cut it to my waist after Nirnaneth Arnoniaed, and it had grown long again. I should cut it again, sometime. “Maeglin has always brought me to see sense, when I was in such a mood.”

He would, indeed. Damn him, Maeglin. I said nothing.

Another sigh, and he raised himself onto his elbow. “Come, let us lie in the bed, where I can love you properly.”

I smiled, and to the bed we went.

Hours of lovemaking later, I was lying in his arms, our hair blended together, golden and dark. I looked down at him and smiled.

“What is it?” He asked in surprise.

“Your scar, from the Fifth Battle. It has gone.” No trace of it remained, healed in the years since.

“I would think that a good thing, I remember how you called me vain for worrying over it.” He treated my buttocks to a firm slap with his open palm, then rested his hand there, warm.

I laughed. “It gave your face character. “

“As if I needed more. I see you still have my token.” His fingers stroked my ear.

“Yes, my lord. I will always keep your pledge.”

He kissed me. “Come, it is nearly dawn. Lets go and watch the sun rise with the city.”

I agreed, and we rose. After we had dressed, we went down to the square. Idril and Tuor were there, and Earendil was playing with Ecthelion by the fountain. We talked for a while, then stood by the walls, facing East.

But that morning, the sun rose in the North.

At first, I thought my eyes decived me, but soon Idril too stared to the North. Turgon stood by my side, and his tension grew as the light grew redder and warmer. Ecthelion and Earendil, their play forgotten, stood also at the walls. Tuor took Earendil in his arms as the city took notice, and soft gasps and cries of wonder went up. All thronged to the walls to see this marvel.

Our wonder turned quickly to terror as we saw the snow on the peaks red as with blood, and a dread came upon us. The mountains burned, and we soon saw the cause why, but did not wish to believe it. Dragons, on the hills to the north! Crawling, burning, coming!

Riders, little stick-figure men, came from the watches on the hills, clattered in the Gates, and soon stood breathless before us. The first to speak drew a gasping breath, and said; “Melkor is upon us!”

Fear stuck the city, blind panic. Men ran for their weapons, women wept and children wailed. Turgon’s house ran to their arms and returned, I also ran, Ecthelion alongside, to muster our houses and gather our arms. Tuor and Idril went another way, to Tuor’s House of the Wing, alongside the palace. When I came to my House, the door stood open wide, and the flurry of activity within bespoke their terror. I myself was reliving old memories of my youth, of burning Elves and dead eyes. I shook myself, pushed these things back into the depths of my mind where they had been buried, and took up my armor and sword.

Then, I returned to the palace, leaving all in the capable hands of my steward, who was more leader of my House than I.

The whole city rang with the sound of arms, and gear, and the squares were choked with women holding their children, trying to be calm and brave while the counsel of Turgon convened. Another glance at the hills revealed the mountains ablaze and rivers of fire ran down to the plain surrounding the city. I had already begun to sweat beneath my mail and armor, but ignored it, my mind was on Turgon’s decision – what would we do?

At the foot of the tower stair, the lords of Gondolin had gathered. Duilin of the Swallow, Egalmoth of the Heavenly Arch, Penlod of the Pillar (whom I saw not often), Galdor of the Tree, Ecthelion and his men of the Fountain, Rog of the Hammer of Wrath, Myself, and to my annoyance; Maeglin of the Sable Mole and his friend, Salgrant of the Harp. Tuor arrived, with his folk, and his face was grim and drawn.

He had left Idril at their house, which was very nearby, I glanced over to see her pulling a shirt of mail over her gown. Then Turgon began the council, and my eyes were riveted to him.

Tuor spoke first, advising that we should flee now, and quickly. Most of us agreed, but we fell to arguing the distinction of whether to go together, as a group, with the women and children in the middle; or to go as separate houses, in the faith that they would not catch us all, as we were swifter and more mobile this way. Tuor was in favor of the latter, and I agreed with him, yet I did not know if I would leave with Turgon or with Idril, for undoubtedly my house would follow me.

Maeglin and Salgrant argued then, that with the strength of our number we might fare better to remain and fight.

Turgon was nearly in greater favor of Tuor’s idea, I saw; and this Maeglin saw also, for he spoke then, saying, “King, the City of Gondolin contains a wealth of jewels and metals and stuffs and things wrought by elves to surpassing beauty, and all these thy lords – more brave meseems than wise – would abandon to the Foe. Even should victory be thine upon the plain thy city will be sacked and the Balrogs get hence a measureless booty.”

Turgon groaned, he had not forgotten his beloved city and it’s great wealth, but he had been trying not to think of it until that moment.

Maeglin spoke again, and I felt a flash of anger – so this is how he turns Turgon to his every whim?

“Has thou for nothing labored for years uncounted at the building of walls of impregnable thickness and in the making of gates whose valor may not be over thrown; it is the power of this hill on Amon Gwareth become as lowly as the deep vale, or the hoard of weapons that lie upon it and its unnumbered arrows of so little worth that in the hour of peril thou wouldst cast all aside and go naked into the open against enemies of steel and fire, whose trampling shakes the earth and the Encircling Mountains ring with the clamour of their footsteps?”

Salgrant spoke then, “Maeglin speaks well, O King, hear him!”

Turgon stared off at the hills for but a moment, then spoke. “Indeed, why did I build walls and why do we bear weapons, if not to fight? Would we flee all this great labor that took so long, that we devised for our safety? I say we stay.”

A clamor went through the council, we all argued with him, plead with him, tried to make him see reason; but the time for deciding was soo quickly past, and we all must go our ways, to lead our peoples as best we could. Tuor was the first, he went, I suppose, to see Idril.

From here, I must seek histories written by others, for I was not there for some events, nor did I have chance to hear tidings of these things, the thick of battle prevented it, as you shall see.



Chapter Ten:

And now came the monsters across the valley and the white towers of Gondolin reddened before them; but the stoutest were in dread seeing those dragons of fire and those serphents of bronze and iron that fare already about the hill of the city; and they shot unavailing arrows at them. Then came a cry of hope, for behold, the snakes of fire may not climb the hill for its steepness and for its glassiness, and by reason of the quenching waters that fall upon its sides; yet they lie about its feet and a vast steam arises where the streams of Amon Gwareth and the flames of the serphents drive together. Then there grew such a heat that women became faint and men sweated beneath their mail, and all those springs of the city, save only the fountain of the king grew hot and smoked.

But now Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, captain of the hosts of Melkor, took counsel and gathered all his things of iron that could coil themselves around and above all obstacles before them. These he bade pile themselves before the northern gate; and behold, their great spries reached out even to its threshold and thrust at the towers and bastions about it, and by reason of the exceeding heaviness of their bodies those gates fell, and great was the noise thereof: yet most of the walls around them still stood firm.

Then the engines and catapults of the king poured darts and boulders and molten metals on those ruthless beasts, and their hollow bellies clanged beneath the buffeting, yet it availed not for they might be broken, and the fires rolled off them. Then were the topmost opened about their middles, and an innumberable host of the Orcs, the goblins of hatred, poured therefrom into the breach; and who shall tell of the gleam of their scimitars or the flash of the broad-bladed spears with which they stabbed?

Then did Rog shout in a mighty voice, and all the people of the Hammer of Wrath and the kindred of the Tree with Galdor the valiant leapt at their foe. There the blows of their great hammers and the dint of their clubs rang to the Encircling Mountains and the Orcs fell like leaves; and those of the Swallow and the Arch poured arrows like the dark rains of autumn upon them, and both Orcs and Gondothlim fell thereunder for the smoke and confusion.
Great was that battle, yet for all their valor the Gondolthim by reason of the might of ever increasing numbers were borne slowly backwards till the goblins held part of the northermost city.

At this time is Tuor the head of the folk of the Wing struggling in the turmoil of the streets, and now he wins through to his house to find that Maeglin is before him. Trusting in the battle now begun about the northern gate and in the uproar of the city, Maeglin had looked to this hour for the consummation of his designs.

Learning much of the secret delving of Tuor (yet he could not discover all) he said nought to the king or any other, for it was his thought that of a surety that tunnel would go in the end toward the Way of Escape, this being the most nigh to the city, and he had a mind to use this to his good, and to the ill of the Noldoli.

Messengers by great stealth he dispatched to Melkor to set a guard about the outer issue of that Way when the assault was made; but he himself thought now to take Earendil and cast him into the fire beneath the walls, and seizing Idril he would constrain her to guide him to the secrets of the passage, that he might win out of this terror of fire and slaughter and drag her withal along with him to the lands of Melkor. Now Maeglin was afeared that even the secret token which Melkor had given him would fail in that direful sack, and was minded to help that Ainu to the fufillment of his promises of safety.

No doubt he had whatever of the death of Tuor in that great burning, for to Salgrant he had confided the task of delaying him in the king’s halls and egging him straight thence into the deadliest of the fight – but Salgrant fell into a terror unto death, and he rode home and lay there now aquake on his bed; but Tuor fared home with the folk of the Wing.

Now Tuor did this, though his valor leapt to the noise of war, that he might take farewell of Idril and Earendil, and speed them with a bodyguard down the secret way ere he returned himself to the battle throng to die if must be: but he found a press of the Mole-folk about his door, and these were the grimmest and least good-hearted of the folk Meaglin might get in that city. Yet were they free Noldoli and under no spell of Melkor’s like their master, wherefore though for the lordship of Maeglin they aided not Idril, no more would they touch of his purpose despite all his curses.

Now then Maeglin had Idril by the hair and sought to drag her to the battlements out of cruelty of heart, that she might see the fall of Earendil to the flames; but he was encumbered by that child, and she fought, alone as she was, like a tigress for all her beauty and slenderness. There now he struggles and delays amid oaths while the folk of the Wing draw nigh – and Tuor gives a shout so great the Orcs hear it afar and waver at the sound of it. Like a crash of that tempest the guard of the Wing were amid the men of Mole, and these were stricken asunder.

When Maeglin saw this he would stab Earendil with a short knife he had; but that child bit his left hand, that his teeth sank in, and he staggered, and stabbed weakly; and the mail of the small coat his mother had put upon him in secret turned the blade aside; and thereupon Tuor was upon him and his wrath was terrible to see. He seized Maeglin by the hand that held the knife and broke the arm with a wrench, and then taking him by the middle leapt with him upon the walls, and flung him far out.

Great was the fall of his body, and it smote Ammon Gwareth three times ere it pitched in the midmost of the flames; and the name of Maeglin has gone out in shame from among the Eldar and Noldoli.



So, who's happy with me now?