Till end of Time

My hands hurt, I tried to get the blood stains out of your clothes myself. I know that the elleth that washes your clothes tries her best. But she does not know nor feel your wrath, when your clothes are not clean enough. I though, have experienced your hot temper more than once.

In the palace they say, that you are quiet. Yes, of course, there or in your lonely dungeons underground, you are silent like a stone himself. But here in your halls, I can hear you pacing up and down and talking to yourself or you yell and scream with Aranwë

and of course me, if I get in your way at the wrong moment.

Tonight you will have a feast in our house. To celebrate your safe return from the battle. Turgon is now king. They say Fingon was slain by the Lord of the Balrogs himself and the crown was past on to our master.

This made Maeglin euphoric. All grieved but him. He had slept late and I had to serve breakfast to his bed. He did not throw a boot after me, when I opened the heavy indigo blue curtains to let the morning sun in.


"Eäriel sit down. Here!" Maeglin had ordered me to the end of the bed.

Normally he would not look at me when he spoke or ordered, but it was different this morning. Turgon long had argued with my Master Maeglin and wanted him to stay back in Gondolin to rule it while he was gone. But he had not stayed and had hidden ridden out next to his uncle and his finest.

When Maeglin had returned just two nights before the feast, word had spread all over the white city, that he had proven to be fell and fearless. My brothers had not returned, nor had my neighbors come home from the battle that was already named Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

"I told you to sit down," Maeglin stared at me and pointed out exactly where I had to sit.

"I only can tell you, for you will keep this secret. They are weak. They disgust me!" he spoke quiet with a husky tone in his voice. His throat was sore, probably from the feral screams he had released when crowing over another enemy he had brought down.

„They were sobbing on the battle field, as if there was time to weep when the ground is covered with blood of friend and foe. Elves next to those awful mortals shed useless tears instead of finding joy in the killing of the servants of the dark one." Maeglin grabbed my arm and his fingers dug deep into my skin.

„Now, I am the prince of Gondolin, the last hope of the Noldor. Fingon fell and Gil Galad is nothing but a mere child. I will be king! And I will decide who I will take as my wife." His black eyes flashed at me and I thought for a moment, that my heart stopped beating.

Ever since I had seen him first, next to his mother, I had loved him. Only because of this, I had been able to suffer through his violent outbreaks, his terrible mood swings and the weeks and months he punished Aranwë and me with ignorance and silence.

I long had realized that his eyes had caught the beauty of Idril. But she did not like him. Ignored him from the very first moment he had come to the city. Called him ‚Moriquendi' behind his back and spoke of dark things to come because of him.

I hated her, I still do. She could have all, but she refused. What could an elleth dream more about, then being chosen by Maeglin, our prince, the greatest smith and miner of elvendom? I could not understand her.

Maeglin's fingers left bruises on my upper arm, when he finally eased his grip.

Get my best robes for tonight. We will feast and it is time that the warriors dues are paid," he simply pushed me off the bed, where he had made me sit earlier and I hurried away.