House of the Golden Flower
folder
+First Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
48
Views:
3,877
Reviews:
54
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+First Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
48
Views:
3,877
Reviews:
54
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Part III: Chapter Eight
In that year just after Earendil turned seven; Turgon reduced the watch. To me he spoke of it, saying only; “I have reduced the watch that has come to nought. The men of this city deserve to enjoy their homes once more.”
I nodded agreement – what was I to say?
As for Idril, she was morose and quiet, moody for lengths of time. On the day that she came to me, she asked if it was finished, and I told her, yes, nearly so. The exit far to the north was still being finished, but it was done. She asked me then how deceived did I think Turgon might be; and I truthfully had to admit that he was now more deceived than ever. Maeglin had been mellowed and cheerful since he was lost, he no longer mined or quarried in the hills, and kept Turgon’s counsel to the point of my exclusion. Were it not for the fact that Turgon and I shared nights, I would have had no idea what went on with him. As it was, my information was very much limited.
Idril then asked me what we should do if Turgon should fall completely into Maeglin’s thrall. I had no words, stunned, for she had just named my own greatest fear. She squinted against the bright morning sun, for we were in the gardens, and moved closer on the bench to me. “I have gone to the people.” She admitted. “I asked them if they would take Tuor and my son as kings, if that should come to pass.”
“And what did the people say?” I asked.
“They laughed at me!” Idril was so angry her fists clenched and tears stood in her eyes. “They said that Gondolin would stand as long as Taniquetil or the mountains of Valinor!”
I understood her rage. Our people here in the city of Gondolin had grown proud. They likened themselves to the Valar even, and refused to hear sense. They had never known hunger, or poverty, or war here. Gondolin was a utopia, unmarred by the things that went on elsewhere in the world. Everything here was suspended in timeless bliss, where birth and death were rare, hunger and the poor unheard of. Even Maeglin’s house, slovenly as they were, were Elves of Gondolin, and of a proud and fair race.
I took her hand, did not know what to say that might comfort her.
“I would go to my father, but he is never alone.”
“I doubt that he would believe you anyway, Idril. You saw what he did to me.”
She turned then, embraced me. “Yes, and you did what you had to, you let him be right; and I thank you for that, for sparing me. Now even you cannot speak to him against him, you who have always been faithful and true!”
I returned the embrace and sighed. “No, neither of us can reach him, even as close as he is to us, he is still ever more further away. Perhaps, in time…?”
She released me, shook away her tears. “No, for Maeglin will always be his sister-son, and as long as he lives you and I have no hope of Turgon’s favor again.”
I did not reply to that, only took her hand again. She was right, but there was nothing to be done for it. She nor I could ever desert Turgon, nor abandon him to Maeglin’s deceit. We had only to bear it, and keep trying to turn his ears to hearing.
Maeglin’s traps were very well wrought indeed.
I nodded agreement – what was I to say?
As for Idril, she was morose and quiet, moody for lengths of time. On the day that she came to me, she asked if it was finished, and I told her, yes, nearly so. The exit far to the north was still being finished, but it was done. She asked me then how deceived did I think Turgon might be; and I truthfully had to admit that he was now more deceived than ever. Maeglin had been mellowed and cheerful since he was lost, he no longer mined or quarried in the hills, and kept Turgon’s counsel to the point of my exclusion. Were it not for the fact that Turgon and I shared nights, I would have had no idea what went on with him. As it was, my information was very much limited.
Idril then asked me what we should do if Turgon should fall completely into Maeglin’s thrall. I had no words, stunned, for she had just named my own greatest fear. She squinted against the bright morning sun, for we were in the gardens, and moved closer on the bench to me. “I have gone to the people.” She admitted. “I asked them if they would take Tuor and my son as kings, if that should come to pass.”
“And what did the people say?” I asked.
“They laughed at me!” Idril was so angry her fists clenched and tears stood in her eyes. “They said that Gondolin would stand as long as Taniquetil or the mountains of Valinor!”
I understood her rage. Our people here in the city of Gondolin had grown proud. They likened themselves to the Valar even, and refused to hear sense. They had never known hunger, or poverty, or war here. Gondolin was a utopia, unmarred by the things that went on elsewhere in the world. Everything here was suspended in timeless bliss, where birth and death were rare, hunger and the poor unheard of. Even Maeglin’s house, slovenly as they were, were Elves of Gondolin, and of a proud and fair race.
I took her hand, did not know what to say that might comfort her.
“I would go to my father, but he is never alone.”
“I doubt that he would believe you anyway, Idril. You saw what he did to me.”
She turned then, embraced me. “Yes, and you did what you had to, you let him be right; and I thank you for that, for sparing me. Now even you cannot speak to him against him, you who have always been faithful and true!”
I returned the embrace and sighed. “No, neither of us can reach him, even as close as he is to us, he is still ever more further away. Perhaps, in time…?”
She released me, shook away her tears. “No, for Maeglin will always be his sister-son, and as long as he lives you and I have no hope of Turgon’s favor again.”
I did not reply to that, only took her hand again. She was right, but there was nothing to be done for it. She nor I could ever desert Turgon, nor abandon him to Maeglin’s deceit. We had only to bear it, and keep trying to turn his ears to hearing.
Maeglin’s traps were very well wrought indeed.