The Flower and The Fountain

Let’s Not Say Good-Bye
Summary: The fall of Gondolin is near. The captains sense the impending doom of the Hidden Rock, as well as their deaths. They take the time to share memories to keep them going in the days to come. (FA 510, recounting the events of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad in which Huor is slain)

Tarnin Austa was always a great day for the Golodhrim, full of song and celebration. The Elves of the city looked forward to the day each year, for it signified the rebirth of a new summer season. For days before Tarnin Austa, the Elves would gather early summer crops for the feasts that were to take place. Maidens and children would fill the fields and the gardens to pick the best of the blooms for decoration. Musicians would ready their voices and their instruments for song, and the warriors would look forward to setting aside their arms for the celebration. Their hearts were light as they sang from dawn, breaking their vigil of silence, and into late the next night. Parents took the time to grow closer to their children, lovers renewed old vows or took new ones; it was a most anticipated event that everyone looked forward to each year.

The festivities for Tarnin Austa in the five-hundred and tenth year of the First Age of Middle-earth was no less elaborate an affair than it had been the years previous. Turgon had left the planning to Idril, and she had special plans for the city’s celebration. The King’s daughter and her handmaidens worked tirelessly to prepare the city for the celebration; at times, Idril would even attempt to coerce her husband to join in her planning, but Tuor would politely decline and amuse himself with the rearing of their son during the busy days.

When the much-anticipated day had come, it was a wondrous sight to behold. Candles and lanterns illuminated the city in a dazzling display of silver, gold and white lights. Musicians from the Houses of the Fountain and the Golden Flower were employed to play lilting melodies constantly; the melodic sounds of voices, flutes, harps and lyres could be heard in every corner of the city. There was much mingling, gossiping and laughter between the citizens as the children ran merrily through the streets.

But there was one among the Golodhrim who did not hear the music, did not warm to the laughter about him. Instead, Ecthelion had excused himself early from the gathering within the King’s courtyard and had found a secluded balcony that overlooked the Eastern edge of the city. He stood silently upon the balcony, a half-empty flute of wine perched on the white stone railing next to his hand. A warm night breeze blew gently, stirring the dark ends of his braided hair and the ends of his white, silver and pale blue formal robes. Ecthelion found no comfort in the celebration, in the mingling and the conversation. Instead he chose the quiet serenity of the night, the stars and his thoughts to be his company.

“Gondolin…” he whispered, closing his eyes a moment against the brilliancy of the city he loved dearly. This was his home, had been his home for four hundred years; before Gondolin was Nevrast, and before Nevrast was Valinor. Yet his true home was not a place but a person, and Ecthelion was afraid of losing his everything. He tried to brush the rising despair he felt away, yet it lingered on and grew in his heart as it had the past few years. He had felt it at when the Lady Aredhel was lost, again when she was found, again at Nirnaeth Arnoediad. The Fountain Lord felt the pull of impending doom more and more with each passing day that he could no longer refute the emotion.

/Gondolin will fall into darkness one day. And I…I shall fall defending these very walls. Valar, do not let him follow me into the fabled cold of Mandos’ Halls. He is all I have, all I’ve ever wanted. Let him live. Please, let him live when my time comes./

“Ecthelion?”

He opened his eyes as arms gently encircled Ecthelion’s slender waist from behind, pressing him back against a warm body. He turned and fixed gray-blue eyes upon the face of his lover. Glorfindel returned his gaze, worry swimming in the azure orbs. The Flower Lord had grown worried when he had realized Ecthelion was absent from the celebration, and he had gone to find his fair love.

“Glorfindel.” He allowed himself a small smile as Ecthelion felt Glorfindel’s lips press lightly against his neck.

“What is it, vanimaer? You look troubled. There is too much joy surrounding you; this is not the night to allow your sorrows to surface.”

Ecthelion sighed and nodded. He knew Glorfindel was right, but… “I can’t help it, melme. I feel despair creeping upon me, and I can no longer ignore it.”

Glorfindel’s brow furrowed upon hearing his love speak in such a melancholy manner; Ecthelion had spoken in such a manner before, but it had always disturbed the fair Elf. Turning the Elf in his arms, the blond caressed a smooth cheek with his palm, and placed a tender kiss upon the dark crown. “Speak, vanimaer. Share your troubles with me; do not keep them to yourself. I cannot bear to see you in such a worrisome state. Confide in me as you have always done.” He pulled Ecthelion closer, urging the other to rest his head upon a firm shoulder. Gentle fingers stroked through the braided raven hair as Glorfindel held him close, patiently waiting for Ecthelion to speak.

He didn‘t know where to begin, for these was so much to say. The Fountain Lord‘s heart weighed heavy these days on many subjects. It was best, he supposed, to start from what he felt was the beginning. “Since we’ve come here,” Ecthelion began. “Since this city was built and we left Nevrast, we’ve had peace. But, at times, that peace was broken, and broken in a horrifying way.” Ecthelion paused, contemplating how he should phrase his next words. “Do you remember when we were escorts for the Lady Aredhel, malthener?”

“Aye, I remember.” Glorfindel recalled Turgon’s sister, the mother of Maeglin, very well. He had known her since their days in Valinor, when they thought of each other simply as family and nothing more; even then, Glorfindel had seen that Aredhel was of a restless heart. The White Lady would not be content to settle long in one place, unlike her elder brothers.

“You remember Turgon’s words to us before we left? We were to only escort her to Lord Fingon, and then turn immediately back to Gondolin. He would not suffer for any of us to be captured and the location of the city revealed. Though he did not say it, we could see that Turgon was also concerned for our safety.
“We did our duty, saw Aredhel out of the city and to the North, fully intending to carry out Turgon’s orders to the letter. But she insisted we change course so that she may visit the sons of Fëanor.”

“Aye, I remember the argument we and Galdor had with her. The three of us insisted that we follow Turgon’s word and take her to Fingon; then, if she wished to visit the sons of Fëanor, she could do so with an escort appointed by Fingon. We wanted to return to Gondolin as soon as possible.”

Ecthelion nodded, wrapping his arms tightly about Glorfindel’s waist. “But Aredhel wouldn’t relent, and we had no choice but to accompany her South to see Celegorm and Curufin. We were uneasy during the ride though we followed her without question. We were almost there, and our hearts were lightened for a time.”

“But we lost her then,” Glorfindel interrupted.

Ecthelion nodded slowly. “We did lose her, and tried our best to find her but it was in vain. Turgon grieved when we returned with the news and we spoke no more of the matter.
“But remember when she returned, and with a son? We felt joy and peace. Then disaster struck again when Eöl came to lay claim on his wife and child; she died that night after taking a poisoned javelin meant for Maeglin. Again, we grieved for her, but this time we knew she would not return to us.
“I felt it then for the first time. I felt the beginning of despair starting to take me. It was nothing at first, a mere pang of the heart when Aredhel passed that night. It was the first, but it wasn’t the last.”

“Go on,” Glorfindel gently soothed, lending his lover support with his presence.

Ecthelion took a moment to attempt to bury himself further into Glorfindel’s embrace. Satisfied, he released a soft sigh before continuing. “I felt despair again when Idril confided in me one day just before Tuor came that Maeglin frightened her. I had noticed the glances he gave her when he thought others were unaware; they are not the gazes one gives to someone so closely related by blood ties. I felt, just as Idril did, that no matter how strongly Maeglin fought for the city and our King, he would betray us someday. I know not if that day has come, but I feel the same.
“And then came Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Do you remember how I was reluctant to follow our King into battle? I‘ve never been one much for the fight, you know this well. There was something about this battle, though, that frightened me. I felt that this battle could only end in tragedy, but I rode with Turgon hoping that I would be wrong, that the Valar would guide us and I that I feared would be disputed. I was not wrong.
“We nearly succeeded in pushing Morgoth back, but then Fingon fell; hope began to flee then when he died. When I saw Huor slain, hope was all but lost to me…”

“Vanimaer?” The Flower Lord did not miss the note of sadness at the mention of Tuor’s father. Ecthelion had been especially close friends with the younger brother when he and Húrin had tarried in Gondolin for a year. Glorfindel knew how much it hurt for Ecthelion to mention the Man again. He had soothed his lover that night the memories were too much. They had not spoken extensively upon the matter then, but Glorfindel knew the memories--even now--were sometimes too much for Ecthelion to bear.

“I’m sorry,” Ecthelion whispered, closing his eyes against the tears. He buried his face into Glorfindel’s neck when the blond gently rubbed his back. “Forgive me, malthener.”

“’Tis all right, melethron. I know it troubles you to think of thenaetnaeth Arnoediad.” Ecthelion nodded once, and Glorfindel pulled him ever closer.

The sounds of laughter and singing floated in lazy waves about them, but the pair did not notice nor did they share the joy behind the sounds. Silence and one another were their companions as they stood alone on the solitary balcony, the light of the moon and stars shining down about them. Glorfindel contented himself with merely holding the recipient of his love, waiting for the faint trembling of the lithe form he held to subside. He had known for some time that a melancholy air had enveloped Ecthelion though the Fountain Lord remained ever pleasant and cheery before others.

/I hate seeing him like this. I hate seeing Ecthelion looking so lost and forlorn. As long as I’ve known him, he’s always smiled, always laughed and was happy. I just seems so wrong to see him like this, reduced to tears. I detest seeing him cry./

“I looked back then.”

Glorfindel’s thoughts were cut off abruptly as he realized Ecthelion was speaking again. Azure eyes gazed down worriedly at the raven-haired Elf as he spoke.

“At Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the despair took over as I looked back and saw Huor slain. It’s strange when I think about it. When we were crossing Helcaraxë, I never looked back once, not even when my family perished. I’ve never turned for a last glimpse, and yet that day I did so. I don’t know why, but I did. And when I saw Huor fall, the feeling that Gondolin’s time was drawing near never left me.
“I do not wish to see the city fall, Glorfindel. There is no reason for it to. The mountains protect us from prying eyes; the eagles of Manwë protect us from the sky. This is our home, we have come to learn how to defend it best. The passageways through the mountains are hidden, and those who know the way do not leave. Morgoth cannot find us, and yet I feel as if the city’s time draws near. I feel my time draws near.”

“Ecthelion?” Glorfindel’s voice took on a hint of fear at hearing the last words his lover uttered. What was Ecthelion saying? “Do not say such things, vanimaer. I cannot bear to hear of such things being uttered by you.” He held his breath as gray-blue orbs, still holding a few lingering tears, turned up to gaze at him.

“And what if what I feel in my heart comes true? What then, Glorfindel? What will you do?”

“I would follow you anywhere, you know that.”

A sad smile graced Ecthelion’s hair face as he averted his eyes and nuzzled his lover’s neck. /That is what I feared you would say./ “I do not want you to, melme.”

“But…”

“Hear me out, please.” He felt Glorfindel’s body tense slightly against his own, but the Flower Lord kept silent. “I would share anything--everything--with you, malthener. The fabled cold and quiet of Mandos’ Halls, however, is not something I want to experience with you at my side. No, I don’t want to share it with you. Promise me, Glorfindel. Promise me that if I should leave this world, you will not follow. Do not follow me down that pathway. Promise me this, malthener.”

/How can I promise you this?/ Glorfindel remained silent, not knowing how to answer. His grip around Ecthelion tightened as he became afraid to let go. /I would follow you anywhere, vanimaer. Even to Mandos’ Halls I would come after you. To promise that I would not…you ask that I rend my heart in two. Melme, I…/

“Glorfindel? Say something, please.”

Taking a deep breath, the Flower lLrd steadied his voice. He placed a gently kiss against his lover’s brow before speaking. “I cannot promise something I do not have any control over, Ecthelion. It would tear me apart to be separated from you; I cannot promise you that I will not follow where you should go. But I will promise you this: I will not follow you to Mandos by that of my own hand. If I should follow in your wake, then it will be by the very same hand, or one just as cursed, that has slain you. If that is not my fate, then I shall grieve for you till the end of my days, or until I shall be reunited with you.” Glorfindel’s words seemed to appease Ecthelion, and silence settled between them yet again.

“I love you, malthener,” Ecthelion whispered, twisting a loose strand of golden hair about his finger. “You are my heart.”

“And you are mine, vanimaer. Do not let the shadows of despair hide your inner light. You are much too fair for such darkness to cloud your mind and heart.”

The corners of Ecthelion’s lips twitched upwards at the words uttered in love. “How is it that you always seem to know what to say, and when to say it?”

“Ah, see that is because I have impeccable timing. Idril always teases and says I have the worse timing, but I say otherwise.” Glorfindel delighted in a soft giggle that sounded from his shoulder. /Your laughter is the most beautiful music, melethron./

“I believe I agree with Idril on the matter.”

“What?” Glorfindel gave his lover an incredulous look. “Since when have I ever had bad timing?”

“All those times you walked in on Egalmoth and Rog when they were rather…busy.” The Fountain Lord bit down on his lower lip to stifle his laughter as he observed the golden-haired Elf turning an interesting shade of crimson.

“They should learn that there are some things that are not meant for the public eye,” Glorfindel muttered. “At least I have the foresight to move private business to a private chamber.” Ecthelion laughed more heartily this time at the light-hearted banter; the Flower Lord gave his lover a dazzling smile, and placed a brief kiss upon Ecthelion’s lips. “Laughter suits you better than sadness, vanimaer.”

The dark-haired Elf smiled, and placed a kiss upon Glorfindel’s cheek. “Thank you, melme, for cheering me up.”

Glorfindel could only smile in return; his smile turned to a look of confusion as Ecthelion began to twist in his arms. Their robes brushed and rustled together as the Fountain Lfumbfumbled with the front of his garments as if searching for something. “What are you doing?” Glorfindel asked, raising an eyebrow to emphasize his question.

Instead of answering, Ecthelion brushed open the neck of his robes and removed something silver clasped about his neck. Reaching for Glorfindel’s hand, Ecthelion placed the object within the blond’s palm, cupping the other‘s hand in both of his own. Gray-blue eyes moved to the Flower Lord’s face, reading the expressions that played across the features as Glorfindel studied the object closely.

Azure eyes widened slightly upon seeing the pendant nestled in his hand. It was a simple piece of jewelry, nothing as elaborate as the pieces Turgon and Idril sometimes wore. Suspended from a thin chain of mithril was a clear blue crystal in a teardrop shape; the many faces of the stone reflected the light of the moon in a dazzling array. The stone was the same clear blue color as the waters of the shores of Nevrast had been, and seemed as if it were formed from a single drop of rain. Various blue and white stones dotted the mithril chain at intervals. Glorfindel identified the necklace instantly; it was Ecthelion’s symbol of lordship, one of several pieces of jewelry Turgon had granted his captains when he appointed them at Gondolin’s founding.

“Why are you giving me this?” the blond asked in a hushed whisper, his eyes gazing deeply into Ecthelion’s own.

“Because I wish to,” the other elf answered.

Ecthelion looked deep into his love’s eyes, covering Glorfindel’s hand with his own and pressing their foreheads together before speaking. “I love you with all my heart, with ever fiber of my being. We’ve been together so many years, and yet even now I cannot seem to find the right words to express the depths of my love. I wish to bind myself with you. In one year’s time, at the dawning of the next Tarnin Austa, I want to be bound to you, malthener.”

“You do?” Glorfindel felt a lump forming in his tt att at hearing those words, tears forming in his eyes.

“I do. If you would have me?”

“Of course I would have you! How could you even think otherwise?” He gazed down at the hand clasping his own and tightened his grip, hearing the soft tinkle of the necklace hidden between their hands. Glorfindel fought for words to express his own feelings, but found that words were absent. He sought for something to offer his lover, and his eyes settled upon an object. Releasing Ecthelion’s hand for a moment, Glorfindel slipped a band of gold from his finger and placed it in the dark-haired Elf’s palm.

“The golden flower,” Ecthelion whispered as he gazed at the gold flower and silver leaves that embossed the ring he held.

The golden-haired Elf smiled, drawing his lover into another embrace. “I too shall bind myself to you at the next Tarnin Austa. We shall never be apart then, except in death.”

“I love you, malthener.”

“And I you, vanimaer.”

Clasping hands tightly, the ring nestled in one set of joined palms and the necklace in the other, the lovers shared a kiss filled with their love for one another. A gentle breeze blew, mingling their robes and hair as their lips embraced. After a time they parted, gentle flushes staining their cheeks. For a moment they could do nothing but gaze at one anotherkingking in each other’s beauty and feeling the love grow ever more in their heart. Finally, Glorfindel spoke, gently interrupting the silence.

“We had best make at least one more appearance in the King’s courtyard this night,” he said. “Otherwise, Idril will seek us out and demand to know why we are not enjoying all of her hard work. I do not know about you, melme, but confronting a wrathful Celebrindal is not what I had in mind this night.”

Ecthelion chuckled softly. “No, we cannot have that, can we?” He smiled and gaze Glorfindel another brief kiss before slipping the golden ring onto his right ring finger and helping his lover put on the necklace. “Thank you, malthener, for lifting my spirits tonight.” Ecthelion returned Glorfindel’s smile before clasping the hand offered to him, allowing himself to be led back to the celebration. His heart did indeed feel lighter than it had all evening, and he had Glorfindel to thank for that.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Tarnustausta celebration had gone on far into the night; music and laughter still filled the air even as dawn approached and began to warm the land with her rays. Ecthelion gazed down at the elves who had gathered in the courtyard of the House of the Golden Flower from his perch upon the balcony that was adjacent to Glorfindel’s bedchambers. He crossed his arms atop the railing, leaning upon them to watch in wonder at the couples sharing a moment for themselves, the ends of his borrowed blue sleeping robe fluttering in the wind.

/I remember what it was like to be young and in love. A person in love doesn’t have a care in the world; the world doesn’t really exist for them. All they think about is the object of their affection. Nothing else matters, and there are no cares to worry about.
/I am older now, but still very much in love. I have more worries, more cares burdening my heart after all this time. But my love has seen me through, and will continue to do so./ Gray-blue eyes smiled as the Fountain Lord watched a shy young pair share a kiss before breaking away and giggling. /That was very much like our first. We were so innocent then. Glorfindel…/

A low murmur came from the bedroom behind him; Ecthelion turned and smiled as he caught sight of Glorfindel whispering in his sleep before shifting to his other side. The fading moonlight shimmered off the golden-haired Elf’s barck, ck, the sheets pooled around hiss ans and legs; his shoulders rose softly with each deep and steady breath he took. Ecthelion’s smile widened as he memorized this image of his lover, embedding it into his memory for all time.

He turned his attentions to his right hand, and the ring that now encircled his ring finger. Raising his hand to his eyes, Ecthelion marveled at how the light played with the golden flower and the silver leaves that surrounded it. Such a simple ring, and yet it instantly caught people’s attentions. Ecthelion forgot how many times he caught himself glancing at the ring during the elaborate dinners Turgon occasionally held.

/The lordship of the House of the Golden Flower is symbolized by this ring, Glorfindel’s ring. And he gave it to me, just as I gave him my pendant. I shall cherish this gift with all my heart, malthener./

“Ecthelion…”

He looked up when his name was whispered, instantly realizing Glorfindel was speaking in his sleep. Gliding back over to the bed, Ecthelion allowed the robe to slide from his shoulders and onto the floor before he slipped into bed, and spooned up behind his lover. Glorfindel pressed back into his warmth, sighing when Ecthelion’s arms wrapped around his waist. The Fountain Lord smiled when he felt the cool crystal of his pendant brush against a thumb.

“Ecthelion…love you…”

“I love you too, Glorfindel.” Ecthelion gently brushed back some golden hair and placed a tender kiss upon his love’s neck. He shifted closer to the Flower Lord, molding his body to the other’s and burying his face into the golden mane, sighing softly in contentment. Allowing the laughter and music to gently lull him back to sleep, Ecthelion’s last thoughts were of Glorfindel.

/I love you dearly, Glorfindel. I pray to the Valar that whatever should happen between us, we will still have this love to keep us together and help us to remember, till the end of our days./

TBC...