House of the Golden Flower

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

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

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

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

But at least I was not alone in being cowed.

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

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

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

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

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

She proposed an escape route, not only for her family, but for any that might take it. She asked me what would be required to build a tunnel beneath the Tumladen that would let them out far outside the walls, in safety in case of attack. The way would be well hidden and guarded, as the Gate was now closed, buried by a rockslide outside the walls two years after Tuor’s coming.

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