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."
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