The Flower and The Fountain

Swan Ships
Summary: The White Ships of the Teleri, their pride and joy, wrenched horribly from their hands. One of the few who dared not raise a hand against such fair people, Ecthelion watches in despair and horror friends and family he has coo kno know and love fall before his eyes.

The white swan ships of Alqualondë bobbed quietly along the shores of Aman where they were docked, oblivious to the chaos occurring around them. Their sails of white and silver, lovingly crafted by the wives and daughters of the Teleri sailors, shimmered in the faint light of Tilion. The white wood used to craft the ships, that they may sail lightly upon the sea, were shaped and bound together by the skilled hands of the sailors, resembling the shapes of swans. Beautiful they were to those who saw them, light and swift upon the blue waters of Ulmo. And the objects of the battle that raged on in Alqualondë.

This was the home of half of his family, half of him. Ecthelion could not tear his eyes away from the sight of the massacre that was occurring before him. Behind him, his mother had sought solace in his father’s arms, and at his side was Glorfindel. The golden head was cradled on Ecthelion’s shoulder and the azure eyes averted to keep from witnessing the horrid sight of elf against Elf.

They, the host of Fingolfin, had come upon the battle over the white ships, shock and disbelief evident in their eyes. Some, believing themselves to be wronged by the Teleri, took up blades and assisted Fëanor and his sons. Others thought the injustice wrong and stilled their hands even as their hearts bleed for their fellow Elves. None, however, could hurt more than Ecthelion as he watched both halves of his heritage lash out at one another.

Internally, the raven-haired Elf raged at the injustice brought onto the fair people of the sea. Externally, he dared not raise a hand to stop it, knowing his limbs would soon be covered in crimson and the Doom of the Noldor would become a heavier burden upon his shoulders. Ecthelion felt rooted to the spot, unable to keep from watching and yet unwilling to do anything to stop the massacre.

“Ecthelion?”

He turned at the sound of his name. Gray-blue eyes were filled with pain as they settled upon Glorfindel’s golden crown.

“How can you watch this, Ecthelion?” Glorfindel asked without raising his head, voice muffled by the fabric of his friend’s tunic. “These people are your friends, some of them your family. How can you watch all this?”

“I…I don’t…” His voice faltered as he was unable to come up with a reply. He closed his eyes, willing the tears away as they began to collect upon his lashes. Ecthelion heard the screams, the cries in his ears; the sound felt a thousand times more deafening than it actually was. His heart ached though his body felt weary. Sorrow filled him, and he began to despair.

“Ecthelion?” Lifting his head, Glorfindel caught the haunted expression upon his friend’s face. He suddenly felt ashamed of himself for grieving selfishly when his friend was practically breaking from the inside out. Ecthelion had more right to hurt than he, yet Glorfindel had given into his sorrow. He felt as if he had betrayed his friend in some manner, but Glorfindel swallowed his pride and shame.

Reaching out suddenly, and without a moment’s hesitation, Glorfindel wrapped his arms around Ecthelion, drawing the raven-haired Elf into a tight embrace. He shushed the other when Ecthelion moved to protest, guiding the dark head onto his shoulder and the eyes away from the massacre. Glorfindel maintained his tight hold, preventing his dearest friend from escaping.

He didn’t know what to do, and Glorfindel’s arms felt the safest place at the moment. So Ecthelion stopped fighting and gave into the false sense of safety, gave into the comfort his friend was providing…gave into the tears. They gave in silvery streams down his cheeks as he buried his face into Glorfindel’s golden hair and smooth neck.

“Ecthelion?”

His eyes widened; that was not Glorfindel’s voice that had just called him. It was familiar, full of pain. A sudden hush descended upon the Elves that surrounded him just as Ecthelion felt his friend stiffen next to him.

“Glorfindel?” He straightened himself, looking up into the shocked face of his golden-haired friend. Slowly, Ecthelion followed Glorfindel’s stunned gaze where they rested upon a silver-haired Elf. “Telpëar!” Ecthelion caught the Teler as he stumbled, feeling the warm blood spill onto his hands and stain the white of his tunic. The tears flowed more heavily as Ecthelion knelt upon the ground, cradling the battered body of his cousin, his mother’s sister’s son. “Telpëar? Telpëar?!”

“Ecthelion…” Green eyes the color of the leaves in mid-summer gazed back at the raven-haired Elf, the gaze slightly glazed and filled with pain. The full lips were pale, the pleasant flush that normally filled them gone. A small smile spread across the too pale face as a hand, streaked with blood, lifted to twine with a strand of dark hair, more of the crimson liquid staining the Teler‘s tunic. “Cousin, ‘tis good to see you though the circumstances are dire.” His voice sounded small, weak as he spoke. But there was a brightness in Telpëar’s eyes that slightly alarmed Ecthelion, yet soothed him at the same time.

“Do not speak, Telpëar. Conserve your strength.” The raven-haired Elf hugged the suddenly all-too-frail body against him, hoping his body heat would be able to aid his cousin in some way. The sad smile Telpëar gave became blurred as more tears collected.

“No need for that, I won’t be long in this world.”

Glorfindel’s heart cracked as he watched the scene and heard the wail Ecthelion let issue then. Despair and terror were written all over his friend’s face. Beside him, Ecthelion’s parents grieved, especially his mother for the passing of a beloved sister’s only child.

Cautiously, not knowing whether he would be invading this private moment, Glorfindel stepped closer. He laid a gentle hand upon Ecthelion’s shoulder, squeezing slightly to let his friend know he was there.

The flash of golden hair caught Telpëar’s eye even as his vision began to fade. Cold seeped into his body as the pull of Mandos became almost too much to resist. But resistdid,did, if not for a little while longer, as he turned his sea-green gaze to Glorfindel. “Vana,” he whispered. He made a motion with his hand, indicating for the golden-haired Elf to move closer.

Glorfindel complied, kneeling next to Ecthelion whilst leaning forward towards Telpëar. His golden hair framed his face, gently brushing that of Telpëar, who smiled at the silken touch. Glorfindel waited silently, bending his head lower when the Teler motioned him to do so. He was close enough now for Telpëar to whisper into his ear without others, including Ecthelion, overhearing them.

“I see the love in your eyes, Vana,” the fading Teler whispered, smiling as Glorfindel‘s eyes widened. “I do not need my diminishing vision to tell me of the secret love you bear for my cousin. I see your love, as well as your bravery, your courage and your steadfastness. You may not see it, but I do. I see it all and it lightens my heart.” He paused for a moment, shivering slightly as the call of the Halls became more earnest. Telpëar could feel Ecthelion’s arms tightening about him, and he pressed on. “Vana, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything,” Glorfindel whispered, feeling the tears just beginning to prick his eyes.

“Take care of him; take care of Ecthelion. He will need your strength in time. You love him, do not ever abandon him. My passing will cause him much distress. Please, watch over him.”

Glorfindel felt his voice failing him. He nodded his reply as the first of his tears fell, splashing warmly against Telpëar’s brow, who smiled at the warmth and the affection he saw in the azure eyes.

“Do not grieve for me, cousin.” Telpëar spoke again, the light rapidly diminishing from hyes yes as he spoke his last words to his kinsman. “I will be in good hands. Look after yourself.”

“Telpëar…” Ecthelion could feel the strength leaving his cousin, could feel when his final breath had been released. Crystal tears spilled down his cheeks at the light left the sea-green orbs and they closed forever. Waves of despair overwhelmed him as he held the shell of his cousin to him, his body trembling.

He stayed that way, holding his cousin’s body, for what seemed like an eternity. Hands were upon him, touching him gently. Voice spoke, urging Ecthelion to let go of Telpëar, but he refused. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to say good-bye to his cousin though some coherent part of him told Ecthelion it was too late. Fighting whoever it was, Ecthelion held on tighter to Telpëar, refusing to let go.

“Ecthelion?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned to the voice that spoke his name so kindly, with so much understanding and compassion in the tone. Gray-blue eyes focused on the face, full of sorrow, framed by golden hair.

“Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said, speaking slowly and gently. “Let him go.”

Not wanting to comply but knowing he had to, Ecthelion released the body, his hands trembling terribly as he did so. As Egalmoth and Rog carefully and gently carried Telpëar away, Ecthelion almost reached out again to pull him back. But Glorfindel caught his hands, drawing his friend into a tight embrace. Ecthelion sank against his form bonelessly, suddenly feeling weary and lost.

“Don’t let go,” he whispered, clawing desperately at Glorfindel’s tunic. Soothing hands stroked his hair and back as silver tears refused to stop, dampening Glorfindel’s clothes.

“I won’t,” the golden-haired Elf whispered through his own tears, bestowing a light kiss upon the raven crow. Together they mourned, for Telpëar’s passing, for the Teleri as a whole. The battles for the swan ships raged on around them, but they paid it no heed. They had lost so much already; how much more would they be made to suffer before they had peace again?

TBC...