House of the Golden Flower

The great feast of Tarnin Austa, or the Gates of Summer, had come again. After the feast at Midnight, we retired to Turgon’s chamber for the night of silence. The entire city was hushed, as I lay before the fire, and Turgon stood on the terrace, overlooking the city for a time.

When he entered he lay down beside me on the hearthrug, and said softly, “So peaceful, and beautiful, this city that I have made.”

I murmured agreement, and pillowed my head upon his shoulder.

“Did you know,” he began again, “That since Tuor came with Ulmo’s warning, I have thought often of leaving it?”

I raised my head to look in his eyes. “And why do you not heed the words of the Valar?”
He sighed heavily, and began stroking my hair. I had cut it to my waist after Nirnaneth Arnoniaed, and it had grown long again. I should cut it again, sometime. “Maeglin has always brought me to see sense, when I was in such a mood.”

He would, indeed. Damn him, Maeglin. I said nothing.

Another sigh, and he raised himself onto his elbow. “Come, let us lie in the bed, where I can love you properly.”

I smiled, and to the bed we went.

Hours of lovemaking later, I was lying in his arms, our hair blended together, golden and dark. I looked down at him and smiled.

“What is it?” He asked in surprise.

“Your scar, from the Fifth Battle. It has gone.” No trace of it remained, healed in the years since.

“I would think that a good thing, I remember how you called me vain for worrying over it.” He treated my buttocks to a firm slap with his open palm, then rested his hand there, warm.

I laughed. “It gave your face character. “

“As if I needed more. I see you still have my token.” His fingers stroked my ear.
“Yes, my lord. I will always keep your pledge.”

He kissed me. “Come, it is nearly dawn. Lets go and watch the sun rise with the city.”
I agreed, and we rose. After we had dressed, we went down to the square. Idril and Tuor were there, and Earendil was playing with Ecthelion by the fountain. We talked for a while, then stood by the walls, facing East.

But that morning, the sun rose in the North.

At first, I thought my eyes deceived me, but soon Idril too stared to the North. Turgon stood by my side, and his tension grew as the light grew redder and warmer. Ecthelion and Earendil, their play forgotten, stood also at the walls. Tuor took Earendil in his arms as the city took notice, and soft gasps and cries of wonder went up. All thronged to the walls to see this marvel.

Our wonder turned quickly to terror as we saw the snow on the peaks red as with blood, and a dread came upon us. The mountains burned, and we soon saw the cause why, but did not wish to believe it. Dragons, on the hills to the north! Crawling, burning, coming!
Riders, little stick-figure men, came from the watches on the hills, clattered in the Gates, and soon stood breathless before us. The first to speak drew a gasping breath, and said; “Melkor is upon us!”

Fear stuck the city, blind panic. Men ran for their weapons, women wept and children wailed. Turgon’s house ran to their arms and returned, I also ran, Ecthelion alongside, to muster our houses and gather our arms. Tuor and Idril went another way, to Tuor’s House of the Wing, alongside the palace. When I came to my House, the door stood open wide, and the flurry of activity within bespoke their terror. I myself was reliving old memories of my youth, of burning Elves and dead eyes. I shook myself, pushed these things back into the depths of my mind where they had been buried, and took up my armor and sword.

Then, I returned to the palace, leaving all in the capable hands of my steward, who was more leader of my House than I.

The whole city rang with the sound of arms, and gear, and the squares were choked with women holding their children, trying to be calm and brave while the counsel of Turgon convened. Another glance at the hills revealed the mountains ablaze and rivers of fire ran down to the plain surrounding the city. I had already begun to sweat beneath my mail and armor, but ignored it, my mind was on Turgon’s decision – what would we do?
At the foot of the tower stair, the lords of Gondolin had gathered. Duilin of the Swallow, Egalmoth of the Heavenly Arch, Penlod of the Pillar (whom I saw not often), Galdor of the Tree, Ecthelion and his men of the Fountain, Rog of the Hammer of Wrath, Myself, and to my annoyance; Maeglin of the Sable Mole and his friend, Salgrant of the Harp. Tuor arrived, with his folk, and his face was grim and drawn.

He had left Idril at their house, which was very nearby, I glanced over to see her pulling a shirt of mail over her gown. Then Turgon began the council, and my eyes were riveted to him.

Tuor spoke first, advising that we should flee now, and quickly. Most of us agreed, but we fell to arguing the distinction of whether to go together, as a group, with the women and children in the middle; or to go as separate houses, in the faith that they would not catch us all, as we were swifter and more mobile this way. Tuor was in favor of the latter, and I agreed with him, yet I did not know if I would leave with Turgon or with Idril, for undoubtedly my house would follow me.

Maeglin and Salgrant argued then, that with the strength of our number we might fare better to remain and fight.

Turgon was nearly in greater favor of Tuor’s idea, I saw; and this Maeglin saw also, for he spoke then, saying, “King, the City of Gondolin contains a wealth of jewels and metals and stuffs and things wrought by elves to surpassing beauty, and all these thy lords – more brave meseems than wise – would abandon to the Foe. Even should victory be thine upon the plain thy city will be sacked and the Balrogs get hence a measureless booty.”

Turgon groaned, he had not forgotten his beloved city and it’s great wealth, but he had been trying not to think of it until that moment.

Maeglin spoke again, and I felt a flash of anger – so this is how he turns Turgon to his every whim?

“Has thou for nothing labored for years uncounted at the building of walls of impregnable thickness and in the making of gates whose valor may not be over thrown; it is the power of this hill on Amon Gwareth become as lowly as the deep vale, or the hoard of weapons that lie upon it and its unnumbered arrows of so little worth that in the hour of peril thou wouldst cast all aside and go naked into the open against enemies of steel and fire, whose trampling shakes the earth and the Encircling Mountains ring with the clamour of their footsteps?”

Salgrant spoke then, “Maeglin speaks well, O King, hear him!”

Turgon stared off at the hills for but a moment, then spoke. “Indeed, why did I build walls and why do we bear weapons, if not to fight? Would we flee all this great labor that took so long, that we devised for our safety? I say we stay.”

A clamor went through the council, we all argued with him, plead with him, tried to make him see reason; but the time for deciding was too quickly past, and we all must go our ways, to lead our peoples as best we could. Tuor was the first, he went, I suppose, to see Idril.

From here, I must seek histories written by others, for I was not there for some events, nor did I have chance to hear tidings of these things, the thick of battle prevented it, as you shall see.