Summary: These events occur during the timeline of "The Dance of Eternity" (after Legolas' injury and before Glorfindel's wedding). References also exist to the Valar scene in "Misunderstood."
Categories: FPS, FPS > Ecthelion/Tuor, FPS > Elrohir/Glorfindel, FPS > Elrond/Gil-galad, FPS > Elrond/Legolas, FPS > Gil-galad/Elrond, FPS > Glorfindel/Elrohir, FPS > Legolas/Elrond, FPS > Tuor/Ecthelion Characters: Elrohir, Elrond, Gil-galad, Glorfindel, Legolas, Tuor
Type: None
Warning: None
Challenges: None
Series: The Folly of Starlight
Chapters: 5 Completed: Yes
Word count: 11564 Read: 15804
Published: August 23, 2009 Updated: August 23, 2009
1. Prologue by AC
2. Chapter 1 by AC
3. Chapter 2 by AC
4. Chapter 3 by AC
5. Chapter 4 by AC
The distance that the dead have gone
Does not at first appear -
Their coming back seems possible
For many an ardent year.
-- Emily Dickinson, Poems
[Mahanaxar, the Blessed Lands. The 900th year of the Third Age of Middle-earth]
A low murmur of curiosity-sparked discontent thrummed through the circle of carefully carved stone thrones. Overhead the iridescent illumination of the Valinorian sky was pierced in the east by a more brilliant and tangible beacon, the golden sparkle of Earendil's daily return from his transit of the heavens.
"Would that there was another of the mariner's strength of will and purity of purpose," Yavanna the most fair reverently whispered. "The First Born and the Second surely need such a champion now in their united cause of security against the Deceiver."
"They are not without the line of Earendil, thanks to the forethought of my actions," a booming voice boasted from behind her.
The green-garbed lady and the other assembled Valar watched in relief tinged with palpable annoyance as the Lord of the Deep made his predictably tardy arrival and settled his shimmering green-silver form into his seat near the head of the circle. "Your actions may indeed have had some merit in the past," Yavanna conceded, "But you make a mockery of your supposed concern for that line with your reluctance to heed Manwe's call to council this day!"
A sapphire staff loudly clunked against the stones beneath their feet, the sound and vibration capturing the attention of all assembled with equivalent urgency. "Let us begin," Manwe humorlessly urged, rising to his feet, his azure eyes sharply and silently rebuking the lackadaisical behavior of the prideful lord seated to his right. "The affairs of Middle-earth concern us all, and the prayers of its inhabitants reach our ears upon the wind as well as the wings of eagles. To some it may seem as though peace has finally come to those troubled lands, but this is falsity and folly of thought. The hand of the Deceiver still reigns in some lands, and although he has not been seen outright since the High King's death, none would dare say he has disappeared from Ea forever."
An amused chuckle rippled from across the stone circle. "He may not be gone, but he has been reduced to naught but a nuisance," Tulkas, the golden-haired champion of the Valar bragged. "What power does he yet have over the living when he is unable to walk amongst them and deceive them with his lies?"
"He may not have the power to pass amongst the peoples of Middle-earth, but we should not forget his lieutenants," Varda the star-kindler warned most sternly. "The Nine, although likewise unseen for the passing of centuries, still retain their rings of power, as well as their ability to terrorize, corrupt, and dominate."
Manwe nodded in agreement to his wife's sage warnings. "The Ulairi wait in patient silence for their Dark Lord to return to power, as we all know is his destiny. We should not wait idly, as that fateful moment approaches with the swiftness of eagles."
Ulmo snorted loudly, his derision dripping like the pregnant droplets of water slowly sliding from his glimmering helm. "Eagles? Your speed in this matter is more likened to that of the Onodrim. Numenor fell to its own pride and the lies of Sauron, and still you felt no need to intervene, save to praise Iluvatar's removal of Valinor from the world to protect our shores from the 'profanity' of those not of the First Born. Again Sauron rose, and many of the First Born and the Second bought victory without your aid or interest at the terrible price of their lives. Why the sudden interest now?"
"It is not merely the fate of the First Born and the Second which concerns us now, but that of Middle-earth in its entirety." Varda rose from her seat, her graceful, snow-white gown softly shifting as she stood. "Most of the Second born have succumbed to the darkness, and those of the Faithful who remain grow more widely divided with the passing of this age. The line of Isildur isolates itself from its southern kin, and the younger sons of Earendur have carved out kingdoms for themselves at the proper heir's expense. The line of Anarion continues in the south, but for how long? Sauron's allies are relentless in their attacks. The First Born are scattered, the courts of Mithlond, Imladris, Greenwood, and Lothlorien allies in name only, despite the close connection of their blood. Aule's children hide in their mountain mines, digging ever deeper in their lust for mithril." Varda glared warily at Aule, seated silently beside Ulmo. "No good will come from their greed. It never has."
A bittersweet smile rose to her lips as she turned her eyes across the circle to Nessa the ever-joyous. "Then there are the Little Folk, those whom most of the larger races have overlooked for all of this age and the last. Nessa and Vana have ever listened to their songs with gladdened hearts, thinking them to be the only innocent children of the east. Yet all children must reach maturity, and face the wider world outside their cradle. The time soon approaches for them to leave the Vale of Anduin where they have lived in peace and seclusion since they first drew breath, and take their rightful place among the speaking races of Middle-earth. They, too, have a role to play in securing the future of the eastern lands."
Sorrow uncharacteristically graced the ever-young visage of Vana, Lady of the golden flowers, her eyes' gaze nervously flitting from the face of Nessa, seated at her left, to that of Orome, Vana's husband, brooding quietly at her other side. "What power do we have in this matter? We cannot directly confront Sauron -- Iluvatar himself has decreed as much."
Manwe calmly directed his answer to that desperate question to the assembly at large. "It is up to all the speaking races of Middle-earth to confront this growing threat of evil, in whatever means they best see fit. All we can do is give counsel and encouragement."
The all-too-still far end of the council finally stirred, Vaire, the weaver of memories, breaking the solemn silence of the Lords and Ladies of Dreams and Death. "You mean to send advisors, then," she correctly surmised, "To rally the Children of Endore to gather their forces and rise up on their own, when the darkness comes again."
"Warriors would be far more appreciated," Tulkas grimly mumbled.
Varda disregarded the quick-tempered retort. "Whomever we send must bind themselves to the weakness of the flesh, so they may greater understand those whom they would seek to counsel. For evil cannot be defeated by strength of the flesh alone. The failure of Isildur made clear that truth to all with eyes to see. It is the strength of the spirit, of the heart, and of the mind, which will cleanse the stain of evil from the free lands of Endore." With a sharp rap of his scepter against the ground, Manwe signaled a recess in the Valar's deliberations. "Let us retire, and summon whom we will to be our representatives in this worthy yet thankless task. We reconvene when Earendil returns from his next voyage across the heavens."
[One revolution of Anar later]
Once again the somber stone circle rang with the sounds of occupation and expectation, the fourteen usual attendees accompanied by handpicked guests of honor. Manwe surveyed the gathering with hopeful anticipation, believing for the first time that this plan of his (and his wife's) might actually bear sweet fruit.
At last even Ulmo had claimed his accustomed seat, and the business at hand was delayed no longer. Manwe slowly rose from his stone throne, one hand tightly gripping his sapphire scepter while the other flourished a sweeping gesture in the general direction of the assembly. "Before we ask who would willingly serve in this most solemn venture, I feel I must remind all assembled precisely what is being asked. Whomever we send must forego might, and clothe themselves in flesh so as to be as equals to those we mean to aid and win the trust of Elves and Men. But this would imperil them, dimming their wisdom and knowledge, and confusing them with fears, cares, and wearinesses coming from the flesh. Who would send his servant to be bound to the limitations of the flesh in the name of hope and light?"
Aule barely allowed the final word to slide from Manwe's lips before he shot to his feet.
"I would." A wave of his hand, and a regal figure emerged from a humble seat hastily set behind the Lord of Crafts and bowed elegantly to the assembled lords and ladies of Valinor. "Curumo would gladly accept this task."
A gentle murmur accompanied the Valar's study the well-known servant of Aule, his raiment, which initially appeared the color of snow, shimmering in subtle rainbow hues with the Maia's equally understated motions.
The stone-faced figure seated beside Aule loudly harrumphed in bitter derision. "How generous of you to offer your favorite Maia of this age to counsel against your fallen servant of the last."
Yavanna glared at the impugner of her husband's honor, her leaf-hued eyes fiery with insult. "It is not my husband's fault Melkor was able to seduce Sauron."
"Perhaps not," Ulmo warily countered, suspiciously eyeing the famously articulate Maia,
"But what assurance do we have that this servant of Aule will resist the seduction of darkness any better than his predecessor?"
"If I may be permitted to speak on my own behalf," the silver-tongued Maia lyrically spoke with a deferent lowering of his eyes. "I fear not for my own safety, regardless of the perils you would have me face. My only desire is to serve my Lord Aule, and the noble Council, and bring the light of your wisdom to the dark places of Middle-earth."
"It is not foolhardy to have some measure of fear for that which is formidable. Indeed, it demonstrates an intelligence of its own," Varda chastised warily, surveying Curumo's confident air with obvious suspicion.
If her husband had similar reservations, he did not give them voice. "If Curumo is willing to agree to the terms of the task, his aid will be most graciously accepted. The fairness of his tongue and the strength of his charisma will aid him in this mission. Many will heed his advice merely because of the means with which it is spoken. He has served Aule with honor and distinction, and in recognition he will be sent first of all on this mission."
"I, too, would send one in my name," Orome swiftly interjected, rising from his seat beside Varda. "Alatar will bring the light of his wisdom to the darkest places of Middle-earth. He will turn those who have fallen into the false worship of the Deceiver back to the light."
As the blue-robed servant of Orome entered the circle with a low, earnest bow, the solitary lady in black, Nienna, rose at the far end of the council. "It will take more than one to accomplish such a task, Orome," she offered with urgency. "I would submit aid of my own, in the person of Pallando. He will represent those of us who watch over the dead, in the hope that he may prevent others from joining their ranks too soon."
Manwe studied the twin forms dressed in sea-hues who soon stood shoulder to shoulder before him. "A seemingly impossible task has been laid upon you. Do you both accept it, freely and without reservation?"
"Only the most foolish would view such a charge without some measure of hesitation," Alatar openly admitted. "Yet my brother and I would gladly face such uncertainties in the names of Iluvatar and your Lordship."
"Then so be it. You shall follow after Curumo, yet take another road once upon the eastern shores. For your journeys shall take you farther to the east and the south than any other of your brethren, where the darkness has captured the hearts of men and twisted them nearly beyond salvation."
"We shall not fail in our appointed task, even at risk to our very lives," Pallando offered. Before Manwe could ask for yet more volunteers, Yavanna, the Lady of the Trees, swept to her feet. "The beasts and birds of Middle-earth have much to lose if Sauron spreads his sordid stain across the wilds once again. They may have no court or council of their own, yet I would not leave them without protection of a sort. I would send Aiwendil as my emissary, as he loves all creatures, both great and small. He will be a voice for the voiceless in all matters which affect Middle-earth."
Manwe peered curiously at the slight, unassuming brown-robed Maia standing behind the most-fair lady. "Aiwendil, do freely agree to undertake the mission which the Lady of the Forest would appoint for you?"
"I do, My Lord," the Maia modestly answered. "Your own eagles bring to me songs of sorrow sung to them by their cousins in Endore. I wish to be their voice in the courts of Men and Eldar."
A smile of satisfaction grew upon the Lord of the West's noble face. "So be it. You shall be the fourth to leave, at a time best suited to your assigned mission." Manwe paused with purpose, his gaze passing over the entirety of the stone circle in a slow revolution.
"What say you others? Would you add to those counselors already assembled?"
"I have none to offer myself," Nessa the lithe sweetly replied. "I defer to the wisdom of the Aratar in this matter.
Tulkas the strong nodded in agreement. "My wife is wiser than I in matters such as these. You have her trust, hence you shall have mine as well."
Manwe turned his attention to the master of dreams. "Irmo, what say you and Este?"
Irmo glanced briefly at his pale wife and nodded in silent understanding of her wishes.
"There is one we would recommend, who has spent much time in our gardens, but would rather he be chosen as your representative. You know of whom we speak."
"I do indeed, and I shall not disappoint you." Manwe searched the circle for his choice, a scowl creasing his face in disappointment. "Where is Olorin?"
A gray-clad figure swiftly swept in from a seat at the outer edge of the stone circle.
"Here, Lord Manwe," Olorin breathlessly answered. "I beg your indulgence, but I am only recently returned from Tol Eressea."
"Visiting with the refugees from the East again I see," Manwe smiled. "Your devotion to the Eldar, especially those who never saw the Light of the Trees, endears you to us all."
A hint of derisive sneer on Curumo's face went unnoticed by all but Elbereth herself.
"It is precisely because of your deep affection to the Eldar who remain behind in Endore that I would have you as the representative of Varda and myself on this mission of most urgent importance," Manwe explained.
Olorin bowed gracefully to his lord, an expression of obliging enthusiasm upon his face. "What would you have of me, Lord?"
"We would have you follow your brethren, here assembled, to the East, in the guise of Men to act as counselor to all the races of Middle-earth in matters regarding Sauron and his eventual return."
Manwe's matter-of-fact statement of such an ominous charge caught Olorin unawares.
"My Lord, your faith in me is humbling, but I fear I am not worthy of it. I lack the strength for such a task, even without the shackles of mortal form. I would greatly fear Sauron in such circumstance, should he return."
"That is precisely why you must go," Manwe countered with a smile. "Your fear will save you from foolhardiness and the pitfalls of unproductive pride." Stern-faced, he loomed over the suddenly smaller appearing Maia. "It is my wish, and that of my wife, that you do this. Would you refuse us this time, as you have never before seen fit to do?"
Olorin bowed reverently. "I am ever your faithful servant, My Lord." He turned slightly to his right and repeated the gesture. "And yours, My Lady. Ask of me what you will, and I will give my very life in exchange to make it so."
"It is not our wish to take away your life, Olorin," Varda explained with obvious affection. "You will not be totally bereft of powers or perception, although you shall use each only as necessary. We look forward to welcoming you back to the Blessed Lands, and your full might, once your task is completed."
"By your grace, I will see it done," Olorin solemnly swore.
Orome suspiciously studied the strangely silent Lord of the Deep seated across from him.
"What say you, Ulmo? Have you no champion to send? It is unlike you to refuse an opportunity to meddle in the affairs of the Children of Iluvatar."
Ulmo chuckled softly, a smug smile of superiority painted across his face. "I made my choice in the previous age, when Mandos released Glorfindel to my care and service. He has not disappointed me in the centuries he has worked in Middle-earth as my vassal."
"That was a wise choice, indeed," Irmo agreed. "And one which will serve us well now. He learned much at Olorin's side before returning to the Eastern lands, and will rejoice at his old friend's renewed company."
"If none has cause to add to our company, so be it," Manwe pronounced, striking the tip of his scepter against the stone floor. "Olorin shall be the last."
"It may come to pass that the last shall become the first," the white lady cryptically spoke, so softly that few could hear, her eyes never wavering from Curumo's prideful stare.
Thus it came to pass that over the length of one Valarian year the five Istari arrived on the shores of Middle-earth, Curumo in the lead, and Olorin at the rear. As Irmo had sagely foreseen, Glorfindel found much joy at the arrival of his one-time tutor, despite being initially disarmed by the Olorin's humbled appearance. Yet as the Eldar Lord soon discovered, being encumbered with the limitations of the flesh only seemed to more keenly hone Olorin's already finely tuned compassion for all inhabitants of Middle-earth.
Whatever powers had been lost by the transmutation to the flesh found secret compensation in the ring of flamed stone Lord Cirdan of the Havens in his wisdom had gifted upon the former Maia. Although Olorin could not hope to use the ring outright, Glorfindel knew well the latent power it contained. For as one who had once walked upon the Blessed Lands, and had been released from Mandos' care, he had the sensitivity to perceive the most subtle influence of the Rings of Power, whether they be in Imladris or Lothlorien or a hidden, well-patched pouch worn beneath Olorin's robes.
Mithrandir, as Glorfindel christened his metamorphosed friend, enjoyed many a month in the company of the Elf Lord and Elrond Peredhil, learning much of the sorrows of Middle-earth firsthand. Glorfindel felt the weight of centuries lifted from his shoulders at the promise of aid from a trusted source. Perhaps some of the burden laid upon him by the Lord of the Deep might be shared, or even transferred to a more worthy bearer. However, the Gondolithrim's joy soon turned to the bitter draught of regret when dreams of Lord Ulmo spoke to him of an unplanned codicil to the original terms of Glorfindel's servitude....
[Laire 34, the year 2717 of the Third Age, the dwelling of Elrond Peredhil in the valley of the Bruinen, known in the Common Tongue as Rivendell]
Anar had passed beyond the highest point in its daily journey through the sky, yet one bed in Imladris still bore an occupant. The younger prince of Mirkwood fidgeted uneasily between the cool, feathery-soft sheets of the healing hall's bed, his disquiet far more mental than physical in cause. He was supposed to be resting, healing, conserving his strength, yet he found his mind racing as furiously as the fleetest footed steed. That morning he had been joyously awakened by the sweetness of his lover's tender kisses, before being disarmed by his father's surprise announcement of impending departure. Elrond had promised that he could return to "our bed" in the morn as soon as his father was beyond the valley's borders.
Yes, by the Lady's grace, and his lover's masterful ministrations, Legolas' strength waxed more full with each passing hour. So why was he plagued with anxiety?
Images from hours before replayed in the prince's mind -- the expression of defeated disdain on his father's face when he chided "Do not abandon your home, Legolas. Whatever has passed between you and Lord Elrond, you are firstly my son, and a prince of Mirkwood. Do not forget that." His father clearly expected him to abandon his home and his duty, even though he had nearly given his very life in the name of both. No, he HAD given his life, but it had been returned to him by the skilled hand of his beloved, and by the Lady's grace.
"Your face is far too grim for the beauty of this day, fair prince. Do your wounds cause you pain still?"
Focusing his eyes across the room, Legolas spied a familiar, golden-haired elf lord carefully surveying his expression from the doorway. "My wounds barely occupy my thoughts, Glorfindel," he warmly assured his visitor, "nor the thoughts of my father, finally."
Glorfindel strolled into the room, a graceful smile adding to the classic beauty of his features. A maelstrom of mixed emotions greeted him in the form of the other's expression and tone, leading the ancient elf lord to question just what had earlier transpired between father and son. "So I have heard. No sooner did I return from my sentry duty this morn than Lord Elrond explained to me that I am to join his sons in escorting your family back to the great forest with the next dawn."
"Your aid is much appreciated by my family," the prince honestly offered. With a gesture of his hand, he invited the other to occupy the chair beside his bed. "I am glad you have come to visit before leaving. I have been eager to offer my congratulations to you in person. It is indeed a great joy which your betrothal to Elrohir has brought to Imladris."
The elder elf pulled out the chair and claimed its seat as his own. "Great is the joy which my betrothal has brought to me in the past weeks." His smile grew brighter still. "It brings me even more happiness to hear you will honor us by acting as my witness to our union."
"'Tis an honor to be offered such a role. You have suffered much, and deserve all the happiness the Lady deigns to provide."
Glorfindel raised his gaze from the prince's fair face to the delicate, feminine features carefully rendered in wood in the intricately carved headboard. "She has bestowed upon me blessings more precious than I ever expected," he reverently spoke.
Catching the flash of fond memory in the other's eyes, Legolas craned his neck to allow him to also study the artist's work. "The Lady is more beautiful than any hand could dare capture, no matter how talented," he keenly noted, with no intention of slander or scorn.
"I know. I have beheld her beauty in person."
Is that regret or longing I hear in his voice? Legolas settled back against the soft smush of plump pillows, the solemnity of the bond he now shared with the famed elf lord settling upon him in its full crushing weight. "When you were released from the Dark Halls," the prince whispered in wide-eyed awe.
A disarming yet bittersweet expression heralded the elder elf's reply. "None can return save by her blessing, and that of the other High Ladies and Lords."
An obviously pained pause of reluctant admission hung heavily between them for the passing of several breaths before Legolas dared speak. "I, too, have seen her."
Glorfindel accepted this divulgence without emotion or surprise. "I know."
"Lord Elrond believes it to be merely the delirium of my injuries," the prince uncomfortably explained, shifting with palpable restlessness against the acquiescing bedsheets.
"It is far easier for him to say that, whether he truly believe it or not. He loves you without limit. If you had left him, his heart would have followed to the Houses of the Dead on your heels."
A twilight-hued gaze swiftly sank to where its owner's hands wrung together against the sheets. "I cannot believe that. He did not give up on life when his beloved king fell in battle."
The sorrow of Legolas' sighed words was matched by that in Glorfindel's riposte. "There was many a night when I feared he would do just that. It was only his devotion to duty which gave him cause to continue -- duties with which he had been charged by the High King himself."
The younger elf pondered this truism in silence, raising his gaze to meet that of the other.
"Whatever duties I have are my own, and I would not bind Elrond to them, now or in the future."
"And that makes you more beloved still."
The earnest compliment rolled off the prince unappreciated, his heart and mind more keenly focused on the newfound empathy he shared with the noble elf lord. "How long were you in the Dark Halls? I merely glimpsed their gloom, behind the brilliance of the Lady who saved me from their grasp."
"Time passes differently in the Blessed Lands, and more untenably still in Mandos' realm. All I know for certain is that it was sixteen centuries into the Second Age before I returned to the shores of Middle-earth."
"Do all return?"
Such tremulous hesitation in that uneasy query made it obvious to Glorfindel of whom Legolas truly spoke. "Not all, Greenleaf," Glorfindel honestly spoke. "Some Mandos deems unrepentant for their sins, while others have caused far too much pain and death to ever be released to the light of freedom. Still others are doomed to the care of the Dark Halls by the choices of another's heart. There are also personal dooms just as damning."
Legolas found cause to believe there was clearly some issue Glorfindel masterfully danced around, yet dreaded probing more deeply for fear his queries might reveal truths he was not prepared to face. Instead, he chose a safer road of conversation. "How did you come to be in Mandos' care?"
A chiding smile reflected back at the prince. "They do not tell of the fall of Gondolin in your father's halls?"
Legolas shrugged guiltily, his father's deep-rooted prejudices his only defense. "Only as proof of the ripening to fruition of the Kinslayers' curse. I have read far more in the libraries of Imladris than I ever learned at his knee. I do not know how you bear it. I cannot fathom losing my home. I would gladly give my life to defend it."
"So you have demonstrated to all."
Once more, sincere accolades went unacknowledged. "I did no more than my family would expect of me. I faced yrch, not a Balrog, or a dragon, or the Witch King himself."
A pregnant pause hung in the air, then the prince made a reverent request of his own.
"Tell me of it -- the walled city. Speak to me of the bravery of Ecthelion and Tuor, and King Turgon the Wise." Legolas pushed up against the mattress, straightening his posture in his eagerness. "Tell me of your own bravery, and of the terror of the beast of flames."
Glorfindel smiled, broadly and sweetly. "You would hear of the bravery of Tuor and Ecthelion, yet there is a greater tale still which you should hear -- that of a great love which passed even unto death, and beyond."
Just as the ancient Eldar lord expected, an expression of shocked ignorance was swiftly painted across the prince's features. "There is much of Gondolin you do not know, you could not know, as the songs one hears of Amon Gwareth in this age speak of little but destruction and pain. Yet there was love and loyalty the likes of which I fear we shall not see again in Middle-earth." The sorrow in his tone was replaced with the lyrical lilt of hope, his eyes steadily surveying the prince's steadfastly focused gaze. "Until you came to Imladris." A smile, strong and bright and filled with the brilliancy of Anar's noontime rays cast aside any thoughts of melancholy from his mind. "Although the Valar have not gifted upon me the skills of prescience, only one with eyes of stone could doubt that the Lady has plans both particular and perilous in mind in exchange for your return to my lord's arms."
"If it is your purpose to set my heart at ease, then you have failed most miserably, my friend," Legolas uneasily retorted.
Peals of clear laughter rang out through the Halls of Healing. "My apologies, fair prince, if my words have brought you disturbance of mind. But we both know the Lady has returned you to these shores for a purpose far loftier than to merely return the light of joy to Lord Elrond's heart. For the Valar's gifts are never given without expectation of a cost to be paid, yet their toll is never heavier than the strength of the bearer to abide, nor without reward in the end, even if it must wait until the end of the world to be realized."
Sensing the other's blossoming sense of dread and doom, Glorfindel reached out a hand and clasped one set of the prince's fingers. "Do not fear that which you cannot foresee. Enjoy the moments of peace you will enjoy here in our halls, and trust in the Lady to watch over you when you need her guidance the most."
"You sound more like Lord Cirdan each time we talk," Legolas warily countered, suspicion and disquiet unmistakable in his voice.
"We both have seen many of our people slaughtered upon the field of battle, yet still place our trust in the Lady who loves us all, and the Lord of the Waters, to whom we both owe debts without measure."
Legolas appeared visibly surprised at the naming of Ulmo in this context. "I have heard that he favors the House of Tuor, and thus Lord Elrond in turn, yet I knew not that he watched over you in like manner."
"Watches over me, indeed, but asks much of me in return. It was by his request that I was released from the Dark Halls of Awaiting, and it is at his request that I continue here in Middle-earth to honor a pledge I swore upon the field of battle -- to honor and serve the House of Huor just as it made sacrifices supreme for the sake of my King and my home."
"You speak of Turgon and Gondolin," Legolas correctly surmised.
Nodding, Glorfindel retracted his hand from the other's grasp. "The beauty of the walled city and its glittering fountains is beyond the gifts of even a tongue as sweet as Ecthelion's to properly paint. Long we lived in peace and security, yet at the bitter price of isolation from our kin and allies. When finally we broke our vow of seclusion and joined our arms to the war against the Dark One it was only to see the High King Fingon fall upon the cursed field of Anfauglith."
Although he had not lived through the tragedy himself, Legolas knew enough of the laments of ages past to recognize the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. "They name it Unnumbered Tears because they say no heart nor tale could contain all its grief."
"Nor could the Sundering Sea itself hope to accommodate all the tears shed in its name. It was there that Ecthelion of the Fountain and I, we blessed as Turgon's chief captains and most loyal of subjects, both found our fates forever intertwined with that of the House of Huor." The solemn shutter of pained memory locked across the ancient lord's gaze, the passage of centuries not dimming the sharpness of blood-burned images in his mind's eye. "The field was lost, the blood of both Eldar and Faithful Man freely intermingling in pools both dark and viscous. Fingon, our High King, brother of Gondolin's lord, lay crushed and battered, slain by the hand of Gothmog, Chief of the Flame Demons, himself. Our resolve did not wane, and we would have fought until none still stood had not saner voices ruled the day. The House of Hador stood firmly with that of Gondolin, even unto the hour of certain defeat. Hurin and Huor bade King Turgon to flee, whilst they gave their own lives and that of their troops to buy our retreat. Turgon at first would not be moved, but Hurin spoke of Gondolin as the last possibility of the Eldar to strike fear into the heart of Morgoth, and Huor beseeched Turgon with a prophecy that from their joined houses would rise a star who would be the hope of both kinds of Iluvatar's children." Glorfindel paused a moment, hoping the prince would understand of whom Huor wisely spoke.
Legolas did not disappoint the elder elf. "Huor begat Tuor, of whom the legends speak, who in turn sired Earendil, the Star of the Dawn and the Dusk." An affection-drenched smile lit his face. "The Lord of Imladris, and of my heart, sprang from that noble line."
"As did the lord of my heart as well," Glorfindel reminded them both, "Although I had no way to know that at the moment the Hadorians traded their lives for ours. How could I believe that I would be so gifted by the Valar as to find the solace of love and the purpose of protection in the combined lines of my King and the best of the Second Born? Yet Ecthelion and I were both rendered speechless by the selflessness of those brave, mortal brothers. The tears were made to wait until we returned to the security of the white walls, yet nothing could stem the flow of our grief as he and I guarded the flanks of Gondolin's retreating host. As we marched, in silence and in sorrow, each of us made in solitary secret the same solemn pledge -- to await the coming of the promised heir of Hador's line, 'tho we knew not how or when such an heir might find his way to our city. It was not until Tuor's arrival at our heavily guarded gates, a generation of men later, that Ecthelion the Fair and I admitted one to the other that we had indeed found peace with the same pledge of service." The golden haired lord became lost for a moment in the swirling sea of densely packed memories, a crinkle of smile teasing upward the corners of his lips.
"One of us was destined to lose his heart, and afterwards his life, while the other had to pass through Mandos' care before finding the reward of passion's domain. The Lord of the Waters indeed grants wonders beyond measure, yet demands much in return. So was the balance of joy and despair borne by Tuor at Lord Ulmo's decree."
"Does he always demand such a weighty price for the bestowment of happiness?" Legolas apprehensively questioned.
"Who is to say the price he asks is weightier than any other?" Glorfindel retorted without hesitation or apology. "No action is without consequence, no consequence without action. None should expect to circumvent that truth -- have you, Fair Prince?"
"Not I, certainly not after the passing of the last few days. But I cannot help to wonder how the Lady and her Court can claim to hold us dearest of all Ea's creatures yet expect of us such strength in the face of adversity?"
A smirked smile of long-acquired experience graced Glorfindel's face. "Does not a father expect the most of his favorite son? Are not the eldest children always burdened with the most expectations? Why should we expect it to be any less of a double-edged birthright which we have been given?"
A slight rosy tinge of embarrassment colored the prince's cheeks, the uneasy guilt of self-realized petulance raising the feeling of frustration at his own behavior. "You must think me the rudest of infants, Glorfindel. I whine at the thought that I might be called upon to serve the Valar in the future when I should celebrate with grateful reverence the very fact that I am here and able to discuss such honored sacrifices with you."
"I did not think you a child when you first asked me that question, after suffering your first, less egregious, orc wound while directly defending your homeland, nor do I expect it shall be the last time you unnecessarily chide yourself so. You must remember that you have spent all but the last years of your few centuries in the forest of your father, and have not been given the opportunity to learn of the wider world and its worries. Just as Turgon tried in vain to keep his home safe from the evils of the wild by the isolation of carefully hewn stone, so, too, has your father failed to learn from the lessons of the First Age. But do not believe those years spent in the solitude of your father's realm to have been wasted. The acuity of your bow arm will serve you well in the years to come, and may prove to be the savior of many before this age is through. The beauty of your face and that of your heart have brought a renewed light to this valley which rivals that of Earendil himself. Not only does Lord Elrond call you his very soul, the Lady Arwen depends upon you as a friend, advisor, and protector in ways her brothers cannot hope to match. I see her relying upon you more often and more deeply in the future of this age."
"'Tis an honor I look forward to fulfilling, whenever and in whatever manner she deems fit," the prince reverently swore.
"And perhaps that alone is the task the Lady has chosen for you in return for your renewed existence in this land," Glorfindel offered in knowing lie. For although he said the words merely to direct the prince's dread-filled thoughts toward a positive end, the ancient elf was himself under no such illusion. Whatever the Lady had deemed for the prince in the coming years of this age, Glorfindel was sure the tasks would test far more than merely his ability to advise and escort the Evenstar. "But we wander from the original conversation, Greenleaf. Have you lost your desire to hear of my old home and the coming of Tuor to our gates?"
Legolas playfully bristled at the equally lighthearted suggestion that he had no attention span, straightening his posture against the headboard into one of exaggerated attentiveness. "Most certainly not. I merely wait for you to regain focus. I know how the passing of the ages tends to make the elder ones less sharp of mind."
Allowing the obvious parody of insult to fall between them unanswered, Glorfindel returned to his tale. "Rian, wife of Huor the Brave, gave birth to their son in the months after the Unnumbered Tears, and gave him the name Tuor before passing into the arms of death in her grief. Tuor was fostered by Annael of the Sindar, and was known as elf friend from the very first day of his life. Of his days in slavery at the hand of the Easterling, the songs do sing, but they do not concern us now. When he was become a man, he wandered in Nevrast where Ulmo spoke to him about his fate, and that of Gondolin. Bearing the arms and sword which King Turgon had long before secreted in fair Vinyamar ere it was abandoned, he was directed to the company of Voromwe, who alone of his ship's crew Ulmo had saved from the hand of death in the fury of a storm. These two made the perilous journey across the orc-infested wilds to the secret entrance of our home. At the first gate they were met by Elemmakil of my House, captain of the guard, who brought them straight to Ecthelion, the Warden of the Great Gate."
Glorfindel paused for a moment, the expression of his face becoming bittersweet in the distance of memory. "Tuor was a stranger to our land, yet one could not be in his presence without knowing at once that he was protected by the Valar's hands. Tall of stature and fair of face was he, blessed with hair of gold as all his father's line, and he had the grace of one who had been raised by the Eldar, although he was not of our blood. Beauty was commonplace in the walled city, yet his was unique even among all the loveliness of Gondolin."
"The Lady Idril, the King's daughter, found it irresistible," Legolas sagely noted.
"Yes, but she was not the first, nor the only, of the Gondolithrim to lose her heart to him, nor was he able to give his heart to only one of the city's citizens alone. When he was brought to Ecthelion, Tuor disguised himself in a cloak made from Ulmo's shadow, and hence his majesty was not revealed at first. Elemmakil oft told the tale of Tuor's first meeting with Ecthelion, of how Ulmo spoke through Tuor's mouth and struck the Lord of the Fountain dumb for a time. My kinsman says that it was in that moment that Ecthelion lost his heart, or, rather, had it stolen by Ulmo's hand, in fulfillment of the oath sworn upon the field of battle those years before. Whatever the truth, I remember well the moment I first beheld Tuor son of Huor, standing beside Ecthelion in the inner courtyard of the city. In that instant the grey cloak slipped from his shoulders, exposing to all of us assembled there the black and silver armament we long remembered our King leaving behind in Vinyamar's halls. It was then that Ecthelion found his tongue, and in the full majesty of his musical voice loudly proclaimed that no further proof was needed that, even if we doubt his name, he came with Ulmo's grace and warning."
"So Ecthelion was indeed smitten with Tuor from the very first."
Glorfindel smiled slyly. "Yes, I beheld the expression on my old friend's face and it did indeed reflect emotions one may not mistake. But do not think that his desire was unrequited even at the start. For of all the Lords of the Houses of Gondolin, none matched Ecthelion in his majesty. Dark of gaze and hair was he, and the delicate artistry of the twilight gleamed in his features. All in silver was he clad, with diamonds accenting his shield and his spiked helm. He shimmered as if he were bedewed with drops of rain, and the rays of Anar kissed him with hues of rainbow brilliance. The expression of awe coupled with yearning I found reflected in Ecthelion's face was also there in that of Tuor."
Mirkwood's prince stared with unfocussed eyes past the far end of his bedclothes. "So great love passed between the Lord of the Fountain and Huor's heir. Then what of Lady Idril and the songs which proclaim the noble devotion which bound them to each other even beyond the Great Sea?"
"The Lord of the Waters had long before spoken to Tuor of a child which he would sire who would love the sea above all else and bring hope to both the First born and the Second. Whether the Valar put love for the Lady Idril into his heart where there was none I cannot say. That he found her fair upon their first meeting none can doubt, and that she found him desirable none could deny either. So love there grew between them both and seven years after his arrival Tuor son of Huor was bound to the King's daughter. With the coming of the next spring the fairest of all children ever conceived in Gondolin was given birth."
The prince raised his eyes to meet the other's gaze. "Earendil."
Glorfindel nodded sagely. "Bright was the light of his eyes, and his face, even when he was but a child. The splendor of the Eldar was in his features, and he had the strength of his father's noble house. He was widely cherished in the walled city, but most of all by his parents and his favorite 'uncles'."
"You speak of Ecthelion and yourself."
"Yes, although we two held such honors for disparate reasons. Even after the marriage of Idril and Tuor, the love of Ecthelion was not denied, and with the Lady's blessing her husband and the Lord of the Fountain shared more than merely the comradeship of arms. As for me, I understood that in Earendil I had found the fulfillment of my oath, and that I would gladly exchange my life for his, as his grandsire had once done for my king and kin."
"So you would still do today, for any of his line."
"Without a moment's hesitation."
Legolas pondered the swiftness of Glorfindel's reflexive response, as well as the obvious depth of emotion behind it. "Yet Earendil and his parents both survived the fall of the Walled City, and Ecthelion did not."
"That is the truth." Glorfindel sighed softly, his mind clearly replaying events of another age in his mind in the vividness of experiences so singular not even the brush of time could fade their hues. "It began on the eve of the great festival, Tarnin Austa, our celebration of the arrival of summer's warmth and light. It was our custom to hold silent vigil and welcome the arrival of the dawn with ancient songs both loud and sweet. There we were caught unawares, gathered at the eastern wall in our single-minded celebration of the deepening of night and the promise of the dawn. I still recall the very moment when we knew we were betrayed, by Turgon's own sister-son. For although we patiently awaited the eventual return of golden hues to the eastern horizon, it was the color of blood heralding the flames of Morgoth's army which greeted our eyes in the north...."
Legolas listened in rapt fascination as Glorfindel described in dramatic detail the majesty of the twelve houses of the Gondolithrim, their raiment and armament, and the deeds of unequalled bravery all accomplished that terrible day. The prince closed his eyes and could almost picture Ecthelion and his beloved fighting side by side, the former felling three Balrogs with his feared sword strokes, the latter slaying five of the fire beasts with the bitter bite of his ax. He felt his heart gallop and his breath momentarily cease as he heard of Ecthelion's wounding at the hand of one foul demon and the lameness which froze his shield arm. Horror and hope intertwined as he hung on Glorfindel's every lyrical word describing how Tuor bore his beloved's unconscious form from the scene and the valiant stand he made with Galdor in the Palace Square until Glorfindel saved the day with a timely arrival of fresh troops.
"At last, Tuor managed to rouse Ecthelion from his swoon with water from the great fountain," Glorfindel continued, "Yet they had but a moment's spare breath before the dragon's fire and orcs' arrows interrupted their brief respite." The burden of painful remembrance weighed heavily in the lord's gaze, the breadth of his years suddenly apparent despite the agelessness of his elvish face. "Gothmog the terrible, son of Morgoth, slayer of Fingon the High King, turned his murderous gaze upon Tuor, but Ecthelion, his shield arm still limp and useless at his side, became as a shield for his beloved, positioning himself between the Balrog and the mortal man. Numerous and deep were the wounds Ecthelion the fierce inflicted upon the demon, his deep, abiding devotion to the son of Huor the most perfect source of strength. Finally, in the desperation of knowing futility, he flung himself at the foul fiend, driving the diamond spike of his helm into Gothmog's breast, and together they fell into the fountain and perished, Ecthelion's last rallying cry the name of one he treasured above life itself." A heavy, forlorn sigh whistled through the air. "We all watched in disbelieving shock at Ecthelion's sacrifice, but none with such horror as Tuor, who wept in his love of that fair Elf of the Fountain."
"His heart must have been shattered," Legolas mumbled in empathetic melancholy.
"A portion of it, to be sure, but he was succored by his devotion to his son and his son's mother, and his duty to King Turgon. We knew the city would fall ere long, and we tried in vain to convince our Lord to leave with those who had survived. He refused, instead appointing Tuor the Chief of his people and bade us to escape along as secret route long prepared by Idril Celebrindal."
Glorfindel smiled affectionately at the enthralled elf prince. "You may be the fairest Greenleaf to grace Mirkwood, and this valley, yet you are not the first to bear that noble name. Laiqalasse the eagle-eyed, Greenleaf in the Grey elf speech, led us through the smoke and the darkness to what we thought to be the safety of the mountains which ringed the city."
Once more, whatever spark of joy had momentarily flashed in the lord's face was extinguished by the gloomy cloak of bitter memory. "As Laiqalasse led our people away from the destruction of what had been our fair home, with Tuor and Galdor by his side, I elected to protect the rear, where the injured and the weak tarried. It was in the narrow pass of Kirith-thoronath that the beasts renewed their attack, unseen by even Laiqalasse's keen eyes. Our weary troops fought bravely, none more so than the remainder of my house, yet all quaked with fear at the unexpected appearance of one of the fire demons."
Legolas shivered noticeably, yet said nothing, so enthralled was he with the ancient elf's tale of life and death.
"He was a formidable foe, the greatest of my life, yet I feared not my own death so much as the loss of all we had fought so hard to preserve. With a reserve of strength I knew not I possessed I dealt the murderer of so many I held dear one final blow, sending him tumbling off the cliffside path and into the abyss below."
"I have heard he grabbed your hair as he fell," the prince hushedly offered, his eyes wide with awe in adoration for the living legend seated at his bedside.
"That he did," Glorfindel agreed with unwavering tone. Silence fell between him and the prince, a smile sweetening the ancient elf's elegant features as he studied the other's intense, pained gaze. "I have no regrets," the lord finally offered, "Just as you should have none for me. With the demon's defeat, the eagles were able to aid our forces in driving away the rest of Morgoth's foul force, and the remainder of my city lived to reach Sirion's freedom. Many passed to the West when the great ships returned after Morgoth's overthrow. Greenleaf lives in the Blessed Lands to this day."
Nodding in understanding, the prince ceased his childlike gape of wonder and reverence.
"I doubt my father named me in honor of he who led your people to safety, but it pleases me greatly to bear it nonetheless. I shall take the greatest care to make sure I do it no dishonor, lest he chide me if we should meet."
The smile on Glorfindel's face flashed keenly brighter. "You and he may indeed meet one day, face to face, when you pass over sea."
"I shall ask you to introduce us." Momentarily lost in his own thoughts, Legolas missed the curiously sorrowed expression suddenly painted across the elder elf's face. "There is one piece of your tale which leaves me feeling I have been lied to for most of my life. My sister often told me, when it was time for rest, of the legendary love between Idril and Tuor, one of her favorite tales. Am I now to think it was nothing more than a fantasy invented for reasons I cannot fathom?"
Glorfindel leaned back in his chair, studying the palpable discomfort reflected in the younger elf's eyes. "Is it not possible to love more than one in a lifetime, especially a life so lengthy as ours, or even that of the great men of old?"
A sheepish shrug presaged a reluctant reply. "I would not know, as I have loved but one in all my years."
"As have I, my friend, but take these words to heart as foreign as they may seem. Finwe loved more than once, as did Tuor, as has even one of the Valar themselves, it is said."
"As has Elrond," Legolas sorrowfully murmured.
Glorfindel nodded sagely. "But love for one does not diminish love for another, as each love is different, as is each kind of flower, yet each possesses its own unique sort of beauty."
"That may be true, but one may enjoy many flowers at one time, whereas our kind may take but one mate, unless Mandos remand the other to his care," the prince volleyed in return, the unmistakable ache of desperation reverberating in his tone.
"As he has, indeed, for my Lord's husband."
"Husband?" The word rushed past Legolas' lips after an astonished gasp. "I did not know they were married, only that a great love passed between them." Suddenly unable to meet the other's expression of unmistakable pity, he turned his head away and closed his eyes.
"I had heard veiled murmurs from my father on occasion," he forlornly whispered. "They were meant as obvious insult, and I never thought to take them literally." A firm hand grasped his shoulder, and a soothingly smooth voice tried to bring comfort to a heart which had lost all hope.
"Although their love was known to all with eyes to see, the ties which truly bound them were known to the faithful alone. Do not think ill of my Lord or less of his devotion to you because he did not tell you of this himself. Their joy in marriage was but a single night before the dawning of the Last Alliance and long has been Elrond's grief."
Legolas opened his eyes and slowly turned to face Glorfindel's smiling countenance.
"Until the Valar blessed him with the gift of you," the ancient lord added most earnestly.
The compliment fell upon ears rendered deaf with grief. "Then what of the Lady Celebrian? I have heard that no love passed between her and Elrond. But if so, why would Elrond choose Miriel's fate for the one he truly loves -- for just as I have no doubt of his love for me now, I also have no doubt of his deep abiding love for the High King, even to this day."
A sigh whistled from Glorfindel's lips. "The ways of Manwe are known by few, it is said, and some things pass even his understanding. This was not the first time the Valar have conspired to bring about heirs of their own design in the Firstborn. Remember, I bore witness to such a union in my own home, although it was not completely bereft of love, as are some of its kind."
A spark of nascent understanding gleamed brightly in Legolas' eyes. "So this marriage to Lady Celebrian, and the High King's fate, was not Elrond's choice?"
"It was his choice in name alone. Sometimes the Valar bring together two for their own purposes. His line was not allowed to end -- for the greater good of Middle-earth.
Elbereth and her kin have greater plans for Elrond and his children than you or I can ever know."
"You know this to be true?" Legolas queried in a whisper braided with wonderment and trepidation.
"Lord Elrond has confided in me but a little on this, but enough for me to understand the painful sacrifices he has made and will make in this age to come." The smile returned to Glorfindel's face. "It gladdens my heart to know he will not face that pain alone."
Restlessly, Legolas shifted among the sheets, wincing as a sudden twinge of pain shot through his shoulder. "But what of love? Of free will?"
"Some would say there is no such thing -- that all is known to Iluvatar, and all has been determined before the First Age."
"Is that what you believe?" the prince desperately pushed, his words more a plea than a question.
"I believe things occur for a reason, but that the final choice is ours to make, even if it does not appear to be so."
Legolas pondered this for the passage of several breaths, before returning reluctantly to one particularly dismaying point. "What of the High King? Is his sacrifice to be forgotten? Did he agree to this willingly, or was that, too, the Valar's will?
"Of that I cannot say, for Elrond rarely speaks of the King to me, even to this day. He has hardly uttered the High King's name in my presence since his betrothal to Lady Celebrian."
"He has spoken of Gil-galad to me," Legolas admitted mournfully. "I held him while he shed tears for the High King's fate, although at the time I knew not why."
"Which is still more proof of his trust and devotion to you."
"And yet that devotion is in name alone, and can only remain so, as the Lady is now his lawful mate."
Glorfindel shared the prince's urgently expressed pain. For as much as he knew the prince now suffered in the complete knowledge of what truly stood in the way of a union with Elrond, the lord also well understood the depth of what Elrond must suffer in return. "She is not so for all time. Although my Lord has told me but a little, Lady Celebrian explained much to me before passing West. She bade me to care for her children and love them well, especially Elrohir, as she knew she would not see them again."
"They shall never pass West?" the prince incredulously queried. "Is that not the choice given to all the Firstborn?"
"That is not the only choice which the children of the Half-elven have to ponder,"
Glorfindel evasively offered. "I cannot speak with confidence, but the Lady herself believed not all would eventually see the Blessed Lands. Their fate and duty lay here, in Middle-earth. Yet even if they all pass over to the West, Celebrian's fate lay beyond Arda itself. She had doomed the High King to Miriel's fate, and would accept Finwe's in his stead, one day."
Legolas sunk backward into the pillows, defeat written in his very breath. "So the High King will return."
"So some say, when Middle-earth, and Elrond, need him most, if it is Iluvatar's will." Glorfindel studied the sorrowed expression of loss shadowing the prince's beauty. "Is it something you truly fear?"
"Would you not, if you were in my position?"
"If I were in your position, I would not waste a moment worrying about such a thing. If it were to occur, my worrying would not prevent it, and if it did occur, I would not have the regret of moments wasted in worry. I would enjoy what pleasures were gifted to me."
Legolas stared at the space just above the end of the bed, his recent return from the Halls of Awaiting suddenly seeming not so great a gift as it had only an hour before. "Is my fate to lose the only love I have ever known?"
"I cannot foretell your fate, Greenleaf, but one thing is clearer to me than Elbereth's stars above. Choices are to be made, by all. Of that I have no doubt."
"Elrond will be forced to choose between us?" Legolas slumped slightly against the pillows, then in the turn of a moment shifted purposefully to the most adamant of straightened postures. His chin set with the firmness of stone, he met the other's gaze with the unwavering power of Anar's midday rays. "I cannot hurt him so. I will not hurt him so. I will make the choice for him, and stand aside if the High King returns."
Glorfindel smiled slightly, impressed beyond measure by the prince's maturity and the depth of his selfless love. He reached out a hand and firmly grasped the other's forearm.
"It may not come to that, my friend. None may be certain what is truly the Valar's wish. Love him well, and without reservation, and allow the future to unfold as it will."
A smile finally returned to the gloom of the prince's face. "I swear to the first two without hesitation, and I will try to honor your last request of me." His lips twitched, the smile fading yet not completely disappearing. "Is there still hope to change what has already been decreed, hidden as it may be to our eyes?"
"There is always hope, but why are you so certain your future is one you would wish to be changed? The Lady of the Stars favors you, Legolas, of that I have no doubt. Pray to her, and I am certain she will take your words to heart. You may yet find your heart's desire and hers to be one and the same."
Legolas nodded slowly, hopefully, remembering a conversation of weeks before. "Lord Cirdan once told me much the same -- that I carry the fire of the Minyar, and hence the Lady's favor." Warily, he studied Glorfindel's features, recognizing something there. "My eyes, and my heart, tell me the same is true also of you."
"Although your father would be loathe to admit it, he and I can rightly call each other kin, as our mothers were cousins. You and the Greenleaf of Gondolin also have distant blood in common."
The prince's smile brightened to rival the brilliance of Anar itself. "That brings great joy to my heart, as I have always held you in a place of honor, even before meeting you in the flesh."
Glorfindel returned the other's affectionate expression. "Surely no higher than the regard in which I have come to hold you, Golden Prince. You will have 'balrogs' and 'witch kings' of your own to face, ere the end of this age. Perhaps, pray, not literally, but no less challenging, and I know you will succeed. Elrond has great wisdom in putting his heart, and his future, into your capable hands, young one. I see you caring for both with the loyalty of Ecthelion and the bravery of Tuor."
With a smile firmly perched upon his lips, Glorfindel rose from his chair and slowly turned to leave. A hesitant voice called out from behind him, stopping him mid-step.
"Has Ecthelion been released from Mandos' care?"
Glorfindel turned back to face the question, and those further ones he expected would closely follow. "Yes, before I, in fact."
"So he lives still, in the Blessed Lands."
"Yes."
Legolas hesitated, as though he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know the answer to the question tormenting him. "I have heard it said that Tuor and Idril reached the Blessed Lands in Earrame, and he alone of mortal men was given the gift of the Eldar."
Glorfindel nodded. "Those tales are true. I have seen him, and the daughter of my former king, with my own eyes. The light of the Eldalie now shines in Tuor's eyes, and he is hale and whole and strong of mind and form." He paused, then continued, saving Legolas from having to ask the final question. "Ecthelion and Tuor walk together again, in love and bliss. In reward for my promise to return to Middle-earth at the Valar's beckoning, the Lady graced me with the promise of the one thing I would ask of her -- that they shall enjoy their happiness without interruption until the end of days. Long have I served the house of Tuor, as it is still my honor and greatest joy to do."
"'Tis fitting, then, that you have found your greatest love in its midst, as well."
"Indeed." Glorfindel raised a hand and gestured in a reprimanding way. "Rest now, Greenleaf of Mirkwood, so you may enjoy your return to Elrond's bed, and the joys you have both so earnestly earned. I leave in the morning with my lord's sons to escort your family back to its realm. When we return, I expect to find you in full strength, and ready to serve as witness to the most joyous day of my life."
A cheeky smile adorned the prince's face. "I will not disappoint you."
"I know you would not." With a final lingering expression of satisfaction and affection, Glorfindel turned once more to leave.
As Legolas watched his friend and ally depart, his face grew to reflect the depth of his sorrow. May the Lady watch over you and give you the happiness you so richly deserve, my friend, for now I know there is no chance I might celebrate such a day of my own. He closed his eyes, and so complete was the cloak of foreboding doom which overwhelmed him that he did not hear the arrival of another into his room.
"What troubles you, Malthenel-nin? Do your wounds cause you renewed pain? Or did Glorfindel do something to disturb you?"
The soothing sound of his lover's voice returned peace to his heart, although not without the accompaniment of pangs of persistent pain. Legolas forced a reassuring smile to his lips, despite the lingering agony of what he considered the inevitable truth, and offered a hand for Elrond to claim. "He merely spoke of the past, and the future." He raised Elrond's fingers to his lips for a lingering, consecrating kiss. "I would rather enjoy the present."
The Lord of the Valley sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and cupped the prince's dear features with his free hand, rubbing his thumb along the finely sculpted arch of a cheek.
"You will get no argument from my lips." Flashing a flickering hint of a smile, he lowered his lips to the other's, intending to gently claim, but surprisingly finding himself the claimed. "Your strength returns," he playfully teased, extricating himself somewhat from the full circle of the other's arms before the intimacy of the situation became impossible to avoid. "I find my own is wavering."
"Your strength, or your restraint?"
Elrond chuckled, an eyebrow elegantly arching upward. "I see your brief sojourn in Mandos' care did nothing to curb your brazenness."
"You admit it was such?"
Reticent to delve into what he would rather deny, Elrond reverted to the levity of humor.
"What, that you are shamelessly brazen when it suits you?"
Legolas lowered his voice, yet simultaneously increased the hold he retained around his lover's waist. "No, that I had actually slipped from your grasp and into the Dark Halls."
Elrond made a small sound which softly strangled in his throat, his fingers caressing both sides of his beloved's face. "I know the body I held within my arms had no life until I breathed some of my own into it." He brushed his lips against the hairline of Legolas' forehead, trembling at the memories which flooded back of a terrible day not long before.
"I would have gladly given all of my breath, all of my strength, to bring you back, but the Lady did not deem such a price necessary."
Lingering in appreciation of the sweet contact, Legolas sighed softly. "Glorfindel believes the Lady returned me to your arms, and this life, for a reason."
"I need no reason, other than the joy I feel within my heart. Do you?"
The prince smiled, understanding that now was not the time for such a serious conversation with his still shaken lover. "No, I do not. It is enough that I am graced with the sight of your face and the taste of your lips for another day."
"And more days to come, to the very end of this age, and beyond," Elrond hopefully prayed aloud, collecting the other more completely into his arms.
As he eagerly melted into his lover's embrace, Legolas glanced upward at the carved image of the Lady protectively gazing down upon him. Whatever you ask of me, I will do, Blessed Starkindler, so long as I may continue to taste the love of Lord Elrond's heart. He swallowed hard, clinging to Elrond even tighter. Until another, more beloved still, returns from Mandos' care to take my place.
End Notes:
0) Note that there exists variations in some names (Earendil/Earendel for example) depending on the age of the sources used.
1) Gondolin was the last of the great Elvish enclaves of the First Age to fall to the forces of evil, pride, and betrayal. "The Silmarillion" (151) describes that "Gondolin upon Amon Gwareth became fair indeed and fit to compare even with Elven Tirion beyond the sea. High and white were its walls and smooth its stairs, and tall and strong was the Tower of the King. There shining fountains played, and in the courts of Turgon stood images of the Trees of old, which Turgon himself wrought with elven-craft.... But fairer than all the wonders of Gondolin was Idril, Turgon's daughter, she that was called Celebrindal, the Silver-foot, whose hair was as the gold of Laurelin before the coming of Melkor." Upon the death of Turgon at the fall of his city, the High Kingship of the Noldor in Middle-earth passed to Gil-galad.
2) Several famous elf lords from Gondolin appear in this story and should be briefly introduced. Ecthelion was "that lord of the house of the Fountain, who had the fairest voice and was most skilled in musics of all the Gondothlim. He won renown for ever by his slaying of Gothmog son of Melko, whereby Tuor was saved from death but Ecthelion was drowned with his foe in the king's fountain." ("The Fall of Gondolin," Book of Lost Tales 2: 217)
One interesting case of a recycled elf name which clearly refers to two distinct individuals is that of Legolas. The original appears in the story of the Fall of Gondolin where it is said he was "a man of the Tree, who led the exiles over Tumladin in the dark, being night-sighted, and he liveth still in Tol Eressea named by the Eldar there Laiqalasse." (Book of Lost Tales 2: 218) Laiqalasse is merely the Quenyan form of "Green leaf," while Legolas is the Sindarin form. Note that Legolas the first was of the same house as Galdor. Also note that there is no evidence that the first Legolas was blond.
By contrast, Glorfindel was clearly described in FOTR (299) as "tall and straight; his hair was of shining gold, his face fair and young and fearless and full of joy; his eyes were bright and keen, and his voice like music; on his high brow sat wisdom, and in his hand was strength." If we assume (as seems to be the case borne out by canon) that this Glorfindel is the same as the lord of Gondolin, then we know that he was one of the captains of Turgon and "commanded the left flank of the retreat of the Gondolindrim during the Nirnaeth Arnoediad." (Foster: 210) According to "The Fall of Gondolin" (Book of Lost Tales 2: 218), he "led the Golden Flower [House] and was the best beloved of the Gondothlim, save it be Ecthelion, but who shall choose. Yet he was hapless and fell slaying a Balrog on the great fight in Cristhorn."
Glorfindel's ancestry is a bit of a mystery. Martinez (War of the Glorfindels) argues that few "if any of the 'elder' Noldor seem to have gone into exile.... So Glorfindel probably could not have been an 'elder' among the Noldor at the time of the rebellion. He may have been the son of a Noldorin lord and Vanyarin lady who had befriended Turgon, and as one of Turgon's friends may have followed him out of loyalty and sense of youthful adventure." His blond hair suggests the existence of some Vanyarin blood.
What fate would have befallen Glorfindel after falling to his death and the remandation of his fea (soul) to the Halls of Mandos? According to the essay labeled "Glorfindel II" (The Peoples of Middle-earth: 381), after the "purging of any guilt that he had incurred in the rebellion [of the Noldor], he was released from Mandos and Manwe restored him. He then became again a living incarnate person, but was permitted to dwell in the Blessed Realm; for he had regained the primitive innocence and grace of the Eldar. For long years he remained in Valinor, in reunion with the Eldar who had not rebelled, and in the companionship of the Maiar. To these he had now almost become an equal, for... his spiritual power had been greatly enhanced by his self-sacrifice." This enhanced state of being agrees with the description of Glorfindel in FOTR (294) when Gandalf explains to Frodo that the Hobbit had seen the Glorfindel "as he is upon the other side: one of the mighty of the First-born. He is an Elf lord of a house of princes."
What choices might have been given to Glorfindel as a "reconstituted" elf lord? The essay labeled "Glorfindel I" (The Peoples of Middle-earth: 378) states that when such an elf returned from Mandos' care "they could remain in Valinor, or return to Middle-earth if their home had been there. We can therefore reasonably suppose that Glorfindel, after the purging or forgiveness of his part in the rebellion of the Noldor, was released from Mandos and became himself again, but remained in the Blessed Realm -- for Gondolin was destroyed and all or most of his kin had perished.... It is indeed probable that he had in Valinor already become a friend and follower of Olorin." However, Essay I makes a veiled reference to the possibility that he was not given complete freedom to choose his renewed fate: "Glorfindel remained in the Blessed Realm, no doubt at first by his own choice: Gondolin was destroyed, and all his kin [of the Golden Flower] had perished, and were still in the Halls of Waiting unapproachable by the living. But his long sojourn during the last years of the First Age, and at least far into the Second Age, no doubt was also in accordance with the wishes and designs of Manwe." (The Peoples of Middle-earth: 381)
This now brings up the issue of Glorfindel's eventual return to Middle-earth, and what connection he had to Gandalf (Olorin) upon that return. Chris Tolkien reveals in his introduction to "The Five Wizards" that his father had toyed with the idea of Glorfindel being one of the Istari, but had not had that idea in mind when LOTR was written. (The Peoples of Middle Earth: 384). Essay I (The Peoples of Middle-earth: 377-8) notes that an elf "who had once known Middle-earth and fought in the long wars against Melkor would be an eminently suitable companion for Gandalf. We could reasonably suppose that Glorfindel (possibly as one of a small party, more probably as a sole companion) landed with Gandalf-Olorin about Third Age 1000. This supposition would indeed explain the air of special power and sanctity that surrounds Glorfindel - note how the Witch-king flies from him, although all others (such as King Earnur), however brave could not induce their horses to face him." Essay II (op. cit.: 381-2) argues that Glorfindel's return was probably before the end of the Second Age and the 'change of the world' resulting from the destruction of Numenor, after which "no living embodied creation, 'humane' or lesser kinds, could return from the Blessed Realm which had been 'removed from the Circles of the World'." As for when in the Second Age Glorfindel most probably returned to Middle-earth, Essay II suggests it might be as early as circa 1200 SA or as late as 1600 SA, at the beginning of Sauron's forays into Eriador, or his attack upon it.
A note on wizards (The Peoples of Middle-earth: 384-5) speaks of the five Istari (wizards) as arriving in Middle-earth in several waves, with the first two "unnamed" wizards arriving first "at the same time probably as Glorfindel, when matters became very dangerous in the Second Age. Glorfindel was sent to aid Elrond and was (though not yet said) pre-eminent in the war in Eriador." The "unnamed" Istari are here called Morinehtar and Romestamo, "Darkness-slayer and East-helper. Their task was to circumvent Sauron: to bring help to the few tribes of Men that had rebelled from Melkor-worship...." (Ibid.) Another rough note on wizards (Ibid) suggests that Saruman might have arrived first among the Istari, with Gandalf and Radagast following together and "(what is most probable)... Glorfindel also met Gandalf at the Havens." I have taken Glorfindel's return to Middle-earth as circa 1600 SA, at the time of the forging of the One Ring.
Why is Glorfindel linked to the Istari in this way? Perhaps a reason can be found from looking at a note by Christopher Tolkien in "The Istari" (Unfinished Tales: 410-1). Here the two "Blue Wizards" are named Alatar and Pallando (whom I have assumed were brothers). There is a list which correlates the Istari with the Valar who sent them to Middle-earth. Christopher Tolkien notes that "each Istar was chosen by each Valar for his innate characteristics." (Ibid.) JRRT himself wrote that "they were free each to do what they could in this mission; that they were not commanded or supposed to act together... and that each had different powers and inclinations, and were chosen by the Valar with this in mind. (Unfinished Tales: 412) The same essay (406) describes the Istari as coming to Middle-earth "in shapes weak and humble [and] were bidden to advise and persuade Men and Elves to good, and to seek to unite in love and understanding all those whom Sauron, should he come again, would endeavor to dominate and corrupt."
Conspicuous by his absence from the correlation list of Valar and Istari is Ulmo. If he did not send one of the Istari to represent his interests in Middle-earth, could he have, perhaps, instead chosen Glorfindel, who had already demonstrated his loyalty to Tuor and his line, the chosen champion of Ulmo? That is the working hypothesis I have developed for this story. In the introduction to the story I followed carefully "The Istari," and have taken a few lines of dialogue from it. See "Misunderstood" for my previous writings on the Valar.
3) The Doom of Finwe and Miriel has been discussed at length in the notes of previous stories (such as "Misunderstood"), as has the general concept of the return of dead elves after some period of "purgatory."
"Of the Laws and Customs of the Eldar" in Morgoth's Ring (235) succinctly states "All those who come to Mandos are judged with regard to innocence or guilt, in the matter of their death and in all other deeds and purposes of their lives in the body; and Mandos appoints to each the manner and the length of their time of Waiting according to this judgement. But his dooms in such matters are not uttered in haste; and even the most guilty are long tested, whether they may be healed or corrected, before any final doom is given (such as never to return again among the Living). Therefore it was said: 'Who among the Living can presume the dooms of Mandos?'"
4) Glorfindel first appears in the chronology of Middle-earth in accounts of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad (Battle of Unnumbered Tears), the fifth and most disastrous of the battles of the Wars of Beleriand. Foster (367-8) accounts that it was "fought on Anfauglith in the summer of First Age 473 between the forces of Morgoth, led by Gothmog and Glaurung, and the Union of Maedhros," which included both men and elves. Although Morgoth was initially driven back to Angband, in the end his forces prevailed and Fingon lay dead at the hand of Gothmog, Lord of the Balrogs.
In the midst of the defeat, Hurin and Huor of the House of Hador "stood firm with Turgon of Gondolin, and the hosts of Mordor could not yet win the Pass of Sirion. Then Hurin spoke to Turgon, saying: 'Go now, lord, while time is! For in you lives the last hope of the Eldar, and while Gondolin stands, Morgoth shall still know fear in his heart...." Huor further argued, "Yet if it stands but a little while, then out of your house shall come the hope of Elves and Men. This I say to you, lord with the eyes of death: though we part here for ever, and I shall not look on your white walls again, from you and from me a new star shall rise. Farewell." (Silmarillion: 236-7) Reluctantly, Turgon accepted the sacrifice of the House of Hador and retreated with as many of his and Fingon's forces as still stood, and his captains Ecthelion and Glorfindel guarded the flanks.
Huor's prophetic words came to pass through his son, Tuor, who was one of Ulmo's chosen. After gently guiding Tuor's education and experience for many years (through the guidance of his faithful Noldor servants), Ulmo appeared directly to Tuor and directed him to "seek through the lands for the city of the folk called Gondothlim or the dwellers in stone.... And of a surety a child shall come of thee then whom no man shall know more of the uttermost deeps, be it of the sea or of the firmament of heaven." ("Fall of Gondolin", Book of Lost Tales 2: 157) Although Tuor did not understand Ulmo's words, he obeyed, finally arriving in Gondolin with the aid of Voronwe, an elf of Gondolin who had been saved from a shipwreck by Ulmo for just such a purpose.
Turgon, now High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth, recognized that Tuor had the favor of the Valar (thanks to Tuor's wearing of a special set of armor and a sword which Turgon had secreted at Vinyamar many years before at Ulmo's suggestion) and encouraged him to remain in Gondolin. Tuor agreed, but it is said "that many a time would he have stolen hence, growing weary of the concourses of folk, and thinking of empty forest and fell or hearing afar the sea-music of Ulmo, had not his heart been filled with love for a woman of the Gondothlim, and she was a daughter of the king." (op. cit.: 164) It is said that Idril returned his affection, "and the strands of her fate were woven with his ever from that day when first she gazed upon him from a high window as he stood a way-worn supplicant before the palace of the king. (op. cit.: 166) The child of Tuor and Idril was, of course, Earendil, father of Elrond, a child of "greatest beauty; his skin was of a shining white and his eyes of a blue surpassing that of the sky in southern lands - bluer than the sapphire of the raiment of Manwe...." (op. cit.: 167) For a detailed account of Tuor's arrival in Gondolin (which I closely follow in this story), see "Unfinished Tales."
5) The story of the fall of Gondolin is one of the most sorrowed tales of Elvish history. The most complete account is given in "The Fall of Gondolin" (Book of Lost Tales 2), and only bits and pieces will be recounted here. The beginning of the end, as it were, came with the return of Aredhel, sister of Turgon, and her son Maeglin to the hidden kingdom. Maeglin greatly desired power and the kingship of the Noldor, and plotted to marry his first cousin, Idril, and capture the throne in that manner. She, of course, did not return his nefarious affections, and instead fell in love with a Man, Tuor son of Huor, who had been directed by Ulmo to seek out the secret enclave of the Noldor. Maeglin betrayed Gondolin to Morgoth, and when Tuor and Idril's son, Earendil, was seven years old, the forces of the Dark Lord attacked the final stronghold of the Noldor in Middle-earth.
The attack came at night, during a great festival called Tarnin Austa, or the Gates of Summer. According to "The Fall of Gondolin" (op. cit. 173) it was the custom on that night to "begin a solemn ceremony at midnight, continuing even till the dawn... broke, and no voice was uttered in the city from midnight till the break of day, but the dawn they hailed with ancient songs. For years uncounted had the coming of summer thus been greeted with music of choirs, standing upon the gleaming eastern wall; and now comes even the night of vigil and the city is filled with silver lamps, while the groves upon the new-leaved trees lights of jeweled colours swing, and low musics go along the ways, but no voice sings until the dawn."
The same text continues to say that at that time the "sun had sunk beyond the hills and folk array them for the festival very gladly and eagerly -- glancing in expectation to the East. Lo! Even when she had gone and all was dark, a new light suddenly began, and a glow there was, but it was beyond the northward heights...." This was the invasion of Morgoth's forces, choosing the higher (and thus less well guarded) walls of the north as their point of attack.
The approach of the invasion force was announced by sentinels patrolling the plains between the inner and outer ring of mountains, and panic ensued in the streets of Gondolin. The eleven Elvish Houses of the city amassed their armies, as did Tuor's personal guards, the "House of the [Swan] Wing." The text describes the apparel and armament of the twelve houses in detail, from the golden arms of Glorfindel to the green of Galdor and the silver and diamond of Ecthelion. Tuor bore the swan's wing of his house, and mail of gleaming silver. Consult the text for complete descriptions.
The city itself was assaulted by orcs, dragons, and balrogs, and many deeds of bravery were done by the lords of all of the houses. Early in the battle, Maeglin attempted to kidnap Idril and Earendil, but the child bit him in the hand and Tuor was able to rescue his family. Maeglin was tossed over the walls of the city to his death. Ecthelion and Tuor each slew several of the greatest orc chiefs, and several balrogs as well (Ecthelion three with his sword, and Tuor five with his ax). Ecthelion suffered a whiplash injury from a balrog and his shield arm went lame. Barely conscious, he was literally dragged from the scene supported by Tuor. Galdor rescued them at the Square of the Folkwell and a last stand was made in the Square of the Palace of the King. All seemed lost, as Ecthelion was now unconscious and borne fully by Tuor, until the arrival of Glorfindel and his troops.
Tuor managed to refresh both himself and Ecthelion with water from the great fountain, but a fresh onslaught by a dragon, orcs, and finally Gothmog, the son of Morgoth, the greatest of the Balrogs, threatened to defeat not only the rag tag band, but specifically kill Tuor. But at the last minute, Echthelion, still partially paralyzed, stepped between Gothmog and Tuor and gave the Balrog several wounds. Finally, he flung himself at the demon, impaling the beast with his spiked helm, and they fell into the fountain together and drowned. Tolkien ends this scene with an intriguing note - that Tuor, upon realizing the great sacrifice Ecthelion had made on his behalf, "wept for his love of that fair Gnome of the Fountain...." (op. cit.: 184)
After the death of Ecthelion, Tuor and his forces attempted to convince Turgon to leave the city along with the survivors of the Houses, but the king refused, deciding to fall with his city. He appointed Tuor the chieftain of the survivors and bade him to bring as many as he could to safety, which Tuor did with the help of Idril, who had prepared a hidden escape route for just such an occasion (eventuality, knowing the batting average of the Noldor in the First Age). During the retreat of the survivors, dragons attacked, but "Glorfindel held the rear manfully and many more of the Golden Flower fell there."
There was apparently a debate amongst the wave of fleeing Gondolithrim as to the best route of escape, and many fell directly into the traps Morgoth's forces had laid for them. But others, "led by one Legolas Greenleaf of the house of the Tree, who knew all that plain by day or by dark and was night-sighted, made much speed over the vale for all their weariness, and halted only after a great march." Thus is was that the survivors of the great fortress of the Noldor, including many women, children, and wounded, crept away under the cover of the smoke and low hanging mist of the destruction of their long-time home, finding themselves at the next nightfall at the treacherous outer ring of mountains. They found themselves in Cristhorn, or Kirith-thoronath (The Eagles' Cleft) "where beneath the shadow of the highest peaks a narrow path winds its way, walled by a precipice to the right and on the left a dreadful fall leaps into emptiness." ("The Quenta," The Shaping of Middle-earth: 174)
The survivors had to pass single-file, led by Galdor and Legolas, "whose eyes were like cats' for the dark, yet could they see further," (Book of Lost Tales: 192) while Glorfindel and his band guarded the rear. When Galdor had just reached the far end of the pass and Glorfindel the beginning, the forces of Morgoth surprised them in ambush, cascading rocks down upon them from above. Many orcs were killed, tossed into the abyss, and in the light of the rising moon there arose the eagles, led by Thorondor, who had no love for the forces of Morgoth. A balrog attacked from the rear and Glorfindel "leapt forward upon him and his golden armour gleamed strangely in the moon, and he hewed at that demon.... Now there was a deadly combat upon that high rock above the folk (and the people could see it)." (Ibid.) Glorfindel inflicted many wounds upon the creature and finally the demon fell backward into the abyss, but grabbed a handful of Glorfindel's long, blond hair and dragged the elf down with him.
In a bittersweet turn of events, the death of the balrog allowed the survivors of Gondolin to escape to safety. "Now was this a very grievous thing, for Glorfindel was most dearly beloved - and lo! The dint of their fall echoed about the hills, and the abyss of Thornsir rang. Then at the death-cry of the Balrog the Orcs before and behind wavered and were slain or fled far away, and Thorndor (Thorondor) himself, a mighty bird, descended into the abyss and brought up the body of Glorfindel." ("The Quenta," The Shaping of Middle-earth: 194-5) Despite the fear of further attacks, Tuor allowed time for the proper burial of Glorfindel, beneath a stone-cairn, which it is said is still guarded today by the great eagles of the pass, "but the folk of the Golden Flowers wept at its building and might not dry their tears." (Ibid.) Tuor eventually led the refugees over the mountains and down into the Vale of Sirion, where Ulmo's power could be plainly felt, and to Nan-tathren, the Land of Willows.
6) Glorfindel's second best known deed of valor was the routing of the Witch King of Angmar (the Lord of the Nazgul) at the Battle of Fornost. In Third Age 1974, the Witch King destroyed Fornost and scattered the remnants of the Dunedain. Their king, Arvedui, fled north with the two palantiri but was lost at sea, along with the seeing stones. Cirdan accepted his sons as refugees, and the next year the Grey Havens and Rivendell, along with the forces led by Captain Earnil of Gondor, attacked Angmar. At the final battle, the Witch King himself appeared before the host and all were paralyzed with fear. Then Glorfindel "rode up on his white horse, and in the midst of his laughter the Witch-king turned to flight and passed into the shadows. For night came down on the battlefield, and he was lost, and none saw whither he went." (Appendix A, ROTK: 1026) Earnur wished to pursue the Witch-king but was held back by Glorfindel, who said "Do not pursue him! He will not return to this land. Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of Man will he fall." (Ibid.) This of course is a premonition of the Witch King's fall at the hands of a woman and a hobbit .
7) Some miscellaneous Elvish (both Quenya and Sindarin) :
Ulairi = Nazgul
Onodrim = Ents
Endore = Middle-earth
A reminder that a "Valarian year" or Great Year is 144 solar years.
8) The ultimate fate of Tuor is shrouded in mystery and hearsay. According to The Silmarillion (303), at the age of about seventy Tuor "felt old age creep upon him, and ever a longing for the deeps of the Sea grew stronger in his heart. Therefore he built a great ship, and he named it Earrame, which is Sea-Wing; and with Idril Celebrindal he set sail into the sunset and the West, and came no more into any tale or song. But in after days it was sung that Tuor alone of mortal Men was numbered among the elder race, and was joined with the Noldor whom he loved; and his fate is sundered from the fate of Men." This means that he did not partake of the Gift of Men -- death.
Tolkien discusses this unique event further in a 1954 letter to Peter Hastings (The Letters of JRRT: 193-4): "Tuor weds Idril the daughter of Turgon King of Gondolin; and 'it is supposed' (not stated) that he as an unique exception receives the Elvish limited 'immortality': an exception either way.... Immortality and Mortality being the special gifts of God to the Eruhini (in whose conception and creation the Valar had no part at all) it must be assumed that no alteration of their fundamental kind could be effected by the Valar even in one case: the cases of Luthien (and Tuor) and the position of their descendents was a direct act of God."
J.R.R. Tolkien (1977) The Silmarillion (NY: Ballantine Books)
J.R.R. Tolkien (1996) The Peoples of Middle-earth (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company)
Tolkien, J.R.R. (1965) The Fellowship of the Ring (NY: Ballantine Books)
J.R.R. Tolkien (1985) The Lays of Beleriand (NY: Ballantine Books)
J.R.R. Tolkien (1984) The Book of Lost Tales, Part Two (NY: Ballantine Books)
J.R.R. Tolkien (1986) The Shaping of Middle-earth (NY: Ballantine Books)
J.R.R. Tolkien (1993) Morgoth's Ring (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co)
J.R.R. Tolkien (1994) The Lord of the Rings, One Vol. Ed. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co)
J.R.R. Tolkien (1988) Unfinished Tales (NY: Ballantine Books)
Robert Foster (1978) The Complete Guide to Middle Earth (NY: Ballantine Books
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.