House of the Golden Flower

Then we moved onward, through the south of the city, and met only scattered bands of plunderers who fled before us; and we found fire and burning and death everywhere. We met some women and children, but Tuor would not let them carry anything but babes and food.

Coming not at length to a greater quiet Tuor asked Voronwe for tidings, in that Idril spoke not and was well-nigh in a swoon; and Voronwe told him how she had waited before the doors of the house while the noise of those battles grew and shook their hearts; and Idril wept for lack of tidings from Tuor. At length she had sped the most part of her guard down the secret way with Earendil, constraining them to depart with imperious words, yet was her grief great at that sundering. She herself would bide, said she, nor seek to live after her lord; and then she fared about gathering womenfolk and wanderers and speeding them down the tunnel, and smiting marauders with her small band; nor might they dissuade her from bearing her sword, Hadhafang.

At length they had fallen in with a band somewhat too numerous, and Voronwe had dragged her from it by the luck of the Gods, for all else with them perished, and their foe burned Tuor’s house; yet they found not the secret way. “Therewith, “ said Voronwe, “thy lady became distraught of weariness and grief, and fared into the city wildly to my great fear – nor might I get her away from the burning.”

About the saying of these words we were come to the southern walls and night to Tuor’s house, and it was cast down and the wreckage was asmoke, and Tuor was bitterly wroth. But there was a noise that boded the approach of Orcs, and Tuor dispatched the company as swiftly as might be down the secret way. Now there was a great sorrow on that stair as the exiles bid farewell to Gondolin; yet are they without much hope of further life beyond the hills, for how shall any slip from the hand of Melkor?

Glad was Tuor when all had passed the entrance and his fear lightens; indeed by the luck of the Valar only can all those folk have gotten therein unspied by the Orcs. Some now are left for casting aside their arms labor with picks from within and block up the entry of the passage; I and the men of my house did thus as the idea came upon us, before following after the host. But as we descended the stair into the tunnel we drew level with the valley and the heat grew to a torment for the fire of the dragons about the city above us, as the tunnel was not very deep in the earth.

Boulders were loosened by the tremors of the ground, and their falling crushed many, and fumes so that our lanterns and torches went out. Here we stumbled over fallen bodies, and I feared for Earendil, as did Tuor and Idril I know. The passage through the earth took us nearly two hours, and in the dark we struggled on. At the end of the passage it was rough and unfishished, barely a hole hewn through the rock.

We came at last to the opening, and it led out into a dry basin that had once been a small lake, but was now full of very thick brush. Here the press of folk gathered, with the people Idril and Voronwe had sent ahead, and were weeping softly in weariness and sorrow, but Earendil was not there. He had been sent ahead, out into the Encircling Mountains and the small craggy passes therein.

Far the hill of Amon Gwareth loomed, crowned with flames. Drakes and monsters of iron overwhelmed it, and great was the sack of Balrogs and Orcs. Somewhat of a comfort was the knowledge that though the city was overrun, the plain was very nearly empty, all were at the destruction.

“Now,” said Galdor, “we must get as far hence toward the Encircling Mountains as may be ere dawn come upon us, and that giveth no great space of time, for summer is at hand.” There rose up a dissention, saying that to make for the Cristhorn, Cleft of Eagles, was folly, being so high up. “The sun,” the people cried, “will be up long before we reach the foothills, and we shall be overwhelmed in the plain. Let us fare to Bad Uthwen, the way of escape, for that is but half the journey, and our weary and wounded may make it that far if no further.”

Yet Idril spoke against this, and persuaded the lords that they trust not to the magic of that way that had before shielded us from discovery, saying, “For what magic stands if Gondolin be fallen?”

Nonetheless a large body of men and women sundered from Tuor and fared there, and into the jaws of a monster who by the guile of Melkor at Maeglin’s warning sat at the outer issue and none fared through. But the others, led by one Legolas Greenleaf of the house of the Tree, who knew that plain by day or dark, and was night-sighted, made much speed over the vale for all their weariness, and halted only after a great march. Then was all the earth spread with grey light which looked no more on the beauty of Gondolin; but the plain was full of mists – and that was a marvel, for no mist or fog came ever there before, and this perchance had to do with the doom of the fountain of the king.

Again we rose, and covered by the vapors fared long past dawn in safety, until we were too far away to descry from the hill or the ruined walls. Now the mountains or rather their lowest hills were on that side seven leagues save a mile from Gondolin, and Cristhorn the Cleft of Eagles two leagues upward going from the beginning of the mountains, for it was at a great height; wherefore we had yet two leagues and part of a third to traverse amid the spurs and foothills, and we were very weary.

By now the sun hung well above a saddle in the eastern hills, and she was very red and great; and the mists near us were lifted, but the ruins of Gondolin were utterly hidden in a cloud. Then at the clearing of the mists we saw, a few furlongs off, a knot of men fled on foot; and these were pursued by a strange cavalry, for on great wolves and wargs rode Orcs, as they thought, brandishing spears. Then said Tuor “There is Earendil my son, behold his face shines like a star, and my men are about him and they are in sore straits.”

Forthwith he chose fifty of the men that were least weary, and leaving the main company to follow he fared over the plain with that troop as swiftly as they had strength left. I myself stayed and stood at Idril’s side, to steady and guard her, and our eyes followed every move of Tuor and Earendil.

Coming now to carry of voice Tuor shouted to the men about Earendil to stand and flee not, for the wolf riders were scattering them and slaying them, and the child was upon the shoulders of Hendor, Idril’s steward, and he seemed to be holding his own with a sword. Then they stood back to back with Hendor and Earendil amid most; but Tuor soon came up, though all his troop were breathless.

Of the wolf riders there were a score, and of the men that were about Earendil but six living; therefore had Tuor opened his men into a crescent of but one rank, and hoped so to envelop the riders, lest any escaping bring tidings to the main foe and draw ruin upon the exiles. In this he succeeded, so that only two escaped, and therewithal wounded and without their beasts, wherefore were their tidings brought too late into the city.
Glad was Earendil to see Tuor, and Tuor most pleased with his child, but said Earendil, “ I am thirsty, Father, for I have run far – nor had Hendor no need to bear me.”

Thereto his father said nothing, having no water, and thinking of the need of all that company that he guided; but Earendil said, “Twas good to see Maeglin die so, for he would set arms about my mother – and I liked him not; but I would travel no more in tunnels for all of Melkor’s wolf riders.”

Then Tuor smiled and set him upon his shoulders. Soon after this the main company came up, and Tuor gave Earendil to his mother who was in a great joy, but Earendil would not be borne in her arms, for he said, “Mother Idril, thou art weary, and warriors in mail ride not among the Gondolithim.” Then she set down the child, and he saw me, and was startled, and would have been afraid if I had not dropped to one knee. Covered in soot and sweat and black orc blood, bearing my sword naked in my hand, my hair all loose and my face like stone, I had frightened the child with my look. I shook off my gloom, and gave myself a reason to live.

I took his hands, and he recognized me. To him I swore a mighty oath in that moment, “By my life or death I will serve you and all your line. My blood is yours forever until my body is ashes and my bones are dust. My spirit is bound to you, through flame and water and wind and earth. I will never hurt you. My heart will always love you, until my soul has flown to the halls of my fathers or this world meets its end. I swear it to you, Earendil – do not be afraid of me!” And then I grasped him in a deep hug, and the child laughed and said, “Glorfindel! I would not have your blood or bones to prove your loyalty! I am not afraid of thee!”

At that I released him, and his mother took his hand, I Iooked into her eyes. She gave me a small weak smile, and I rose. Under Tuor’s guidance, we then continued on.