House of the Golden Flower

Now we came to the foothills and it was full morning but still grey, and there came near the beginning of the upward road folk stretched them and rested in a little dale fringed with trees and with hazel-bushes, and many, including I, slept despite our peril, for we were utterly spent. Yet Tuor set aside a strict watch, and himself slept not. Here we made a meal of scanty food and broken meats; and Earendil quenched his thirst and played at a little brook close to where I slept.

He said to his mother, “I would we had Ecthelion of the Fountain here to play me on his flute, or make me willow whistles! Perchance he has gone on ahead?” But Idril told him what she had heard of him. Then Earendil said that he cared not ever to see the streets of Gondolin again, and wept bitterly; but Tuor said that he would not again see those streets, for Gondolin was no more.

Thereafter, near sundown, Tuor bade us arise, and we pressed on by the rugged paths. Soon now the grass faded and gave way to mossy stones, and trees fell away, and even the pines and firs grew sparse. About the set of the sun they way wound behind a shoulder of the hills and we were spared a last look at Gondolin. There we all turned an the plain is clear and smiling as of old; but afar off as we gazed a great flare shot up in the last light the darkened north – and that was the fall of the last tower of Gondolin, even that which had stood hard by the southern gate, and whose shadow fell oft across the walls of Tuor’s house. Then sank the sun, and we saw Gondolin no more.

Now the pass of Cristhorn is one of dangerous going, and our host would not have ventured it by dark, lantern less and torch less; we were very weary and encumbered with women and children and sick and stricken men. Had it not been for our great fear of Melkor’s scouts, we would not have done it by night, as we were a large company and could not travel very secretly. Darkness gathered rapidly as we approached the high place, and we must string out into a long and straggling line. Galdor and a band of men spear-armed went ahead, and Legolas with them, whose eyes were like cat’s for the dark, yet could they see further.

There followed the least weary of the women supporting the sick and the wounded that could not go on foot. Idril was with these, and Earendil who bore up well, but Tuor was in the midmost behind them with his men, and they bore some who were grievously wounded, and Egalmoth was with him, but he had got a hurt in the flight from the square. Behind him came many women with babes, and girls, and lamed men, yet was the going slow enough for them. At rearmost went the largest band of men battle-whole and there was I.

Thus we came to the Cristhorn, which is an ill place by reason of its height, for this is so great that spring nor summer come ever there, and it is very cold. Indeed while the valley dances in the sun, there all the year snow dwells in those bleak places, and even as we came there the wind howled, coming from the north behind us. Snow fell and whirled in the wind-eddies and blew into our eyes, and this was not good, for the path was narrow, and of the right or westerly hand a sheer wall rises but seven feet from the path before bursting high up into jagged pinnacles.

There dwells Thorondor king of Eagles, lord of Thoronath, whom we called sometimes Sorontur. But of the other hand is a fall not sheer by deadly steep, and it has long teeth of rock so that no one may climb down, or fall maybe, but by no means up. And from that deep there is no escape at either end any more than the sides, and the river Thor Sir runs at the bottom from the south over a great precipice but with slender water, for it is a thin stream in those heights, and issues to the north after flowing a rocky mile above ground down a narrow passage that goes into the mountain, and so narrow a fish would be hard pressed to squeeze through.

Galdor and his men were come now to the end near to where the Thorn Sir falls, and the rest straggled for all Tuor’s efforts, back over most of the mile of the perilous way between chasm and cliff, so that my folk were scarce at the beginning, when there came a shout that echoed there. Galdor’s men were beset in the dark suddenly by shapes leaping from behind rocks where they had lain hidden even from the glance of Legolas. It was Tuor’s thought that they had fallen in with one of Melkor’s ranging companies, and he feared no more than a sharp brush in the dark; yet he sent the women and sick around him rearward and joined him men to Galdor’s, and there was an affray upon the perilous path.
But now rocks fell from above, and things looked ill, for they did harm; but matters seemed worse to Tuor when the noise of arms came from the rear, for I was beset and fighting myself, fighting Orcs, and a Balrog was with them.

My men and I hewed and fought upon the narrow path, pitching as many of the Orcs over the side as we might, but the rocks falling from above must be dodged, lest our entire flight fail. It was at this time the moon rose, and Thorondor high above woke to the clamor of our fight, and the rush of their wings joined in our fight, and we would move forward again. Already we were halfway through the pass when the Balrog leapt onto some high rocks that stood on the left side of the pass, nearly to Galdor and Tuor at the front, cutting me and my men off from the rest of the passage.

Then, caring nothing for that creature’s whip, I rushed in and hacked at the beast. It leapt onto a boulder, and then back at me. I fought him to the right and to the left, always seeking to throw him over, or to damage him, but using my shield to spare myself his blows. His whip lashed at me, it was very close, if it struck me, I didn’t feel it. I got in a strike that clanged the beast’s helm, and then my sword sliced off the arm that held the whip, and I pressed on, encouraged. It leapt at me, and I stabbed him, but my blade only found his shoulder, and we grappled and wrestled there, his stump spurting and too slick to grasp, his other hand full of a fiery sword.

We were on the very edge, and I reached with my free hand and withdrew my long-bladed dagger, one that I had always meant to use on Maeglin, but would serve this purpose better now; and grimly set my teeth and stabbed that beast in the belly, which was beside my own face, for the Balrog was much larger than I. The thing shrieked, I twisted the dagger, and it began to fall backwards. I knew that it would fall over the edge, and turned to face the people.

I met Idril’s eyes for but a moment, and felt a yank on my hair that twisted my head around. I stood for but a fraction of an instant, my eyes lost in the depths of Earendil’s, who was in his mother’s arms; but then my knees gave, unable to hold the weight, and I fell over also, backwards, facing the night sky as I fell.

It was over so quickly, yet I fell for a long time. I lost my sword and my shield. I did not care if the Balrog still held my hair or not. I did not feel it when the earth caught me. It was simply an empty realization that I was no longer falling. My body was broken, yet I lay on the rocks, looking up at the night sky. Random thoughts assailed me.

How had I fallen again?

A stray breeze blew a lock of gold across my face.
Oh yes. My hair.

I should have cut it.

I was so vain!

Now I would never see Earendil grown, my vow fulfilled.

Earendil!

My Earendil!

I was supposed to live forever!

A soft brush of feathers. Eagle wings filled my view. Thorondor.

That was the last thing I knew. And then I knew no more.

THE END


“Many are the songs that have been sung of the duel of Glorfindel with the Balrog upon a pinnacle of rock in that high place; and both fell to ruin in the abyss. But the eagles coming stooped upon the Orcs, and drove them shrieking back; and all were slain or cast into the deeps, so that rumor of their escape from Gondolin came not until long after to Morgoth’s ears. Then Thorondor bore up Glorfindel’s body out of the abyss, and they buried him in a mound of stones beside the pass; and a green turf came there, and yellow flowers bloomed upon it amid the barrenness of stone, until the world was changed.”
-The Silmarillion, Of Tuor and the fall of Gondolin, page 243.