Eternal

Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my own characters, everything belongs to Tolkien the genius.

Author’s Notes: The next chapter I promised in a quick fashion, plus it is one I am sure some of you will be happy to read as to the subject of this update. I followed for reference Unfinished Tales and The Silmarillion (Silm primarily) for the events of this chapter while still trying to combine and balance the conflicting depictions of Tolkien's notes from The War of the Jewels and The Book of Lost Tales Volume 2. Thanks as always to Rhapsody for her support; though, this chapter is unbeta'd at the moment. I wished to stay true to my promise of one more chapter before the new year so I will come back to this chapter in a week or two to update with the beta'd piece (though it should not change overly much!).

Happy New Year to everyone!

Chapter Fifty-Four: Ulmondil

The reprieve after the snowstorm that marked the start of the early cold weather was but a calm for a gathering strength. One of the most darkest and foreboding winters fell upon the north and to the south, any mark of sunlight was a mere swatch for only a short time. For over a month’s time, Gondolin and its surrounding lands were under siege by ice, hail, and snow from the clouds above while a chill wind with the sting of the freezing Helcaraxë howled through the valley.

Sitting by the large fire in Idril’s chambers in the palace, Elrilya could not help but be concerned for the soldiers on patrol in the wilds of the mountains or at the gates. They had their own protections and the Eldar always had a great ability to ward off the bite of the cold seeping into them but this was an evil, fell winter made stronger by the Dark Lord’s power. The healer within her wanted to calm her fears by seeing it for herself that they were warm and safe, but Glorfindel assured her that all was well since he had been on patrol many times in winter, too, and knew how his fellow warriors made do in the face of hardships. Yet, the words still felt a little hollow as Elrilya drank in the warmth of the flames flickering over the logs and she felt spoiled that she should enjoy the luxury of the heat within the city walls. It was early and the cold permeated into the stone more so in the early dawn than any other time of the day. She only hoped that her and Idril's shared breakfast would lift their spirits and busy their minds from the depressing feel of the outside.

“This tea should help you if you are still feeling cold from your walk here,” Idril said, handing her friend a cup of the steaming drink while she made herself comfortable among the pillows they had set about on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“I feel like we are children again since we used to do this back in Tirion,” Elrilya laughed then sipped her drink.

“This would have been different if Glorfindel had joined us,” Idril added and reached over to the nearby table to fetch her warmed oatmeal.

“Nay, he would not mind eating on the floor as we are now but he had that early meeting with Ontáro,” Elrilya replied.

Idril sighed, “Atar always has been a morning person. I, on the other hand, need further encouragement.”

“If we had not planned this early meal, I would have stayed in the comfort of my bed beneath the quilts and blankets,” Elrilya said.

“Then you are blaming me for making you go out. Oh, what a terrible friend I am,” Idril teased. “I am certain that the both of you would much rather have stayed in this morn than to visit me and Atar.”

Elrilya opened her mouth to say something but instead said nothing and silently sipped her tea.

“What? I know you were about to say something, I know you well enough to see when you are holding back,” Idril prodded.

“I had something to say but I thought it may not come across the way I meant it,” the dark haired elleth said quietly.

“Elrilya, you know I would never think you to insult or be rude to me out of spite,” Idril said. “Now, out with it!”

With a grumble, Elrilya replied, “I only was going to say that when you find someone as I have you will understand – “

“Ah, I see what you are getting at,” Idril cut her off but it was not out of anger and she simply shook her head. “Atar has been after me as of late; though, I think he fears I wish to be alone forever. I have even heard him speaking to Maeglin to find some fair maiden.”

“One cannot fault him for wishing you both to find happiness,” Elrilya said softly, putting her hand on her friend’s. “And with him being all that is left of his family besides you, Maeglin, and young Ereinion… he may be concerned of his kin’s continuance.”

“That is part of it, I am certain,” Idril sighed. “However, I think his sorrows blind him and he believes we all are feeling the same as he.”

“And…?” Elrilya queried.

“No, I have not found someone yet and I will not go searching as he wants me to do,” Idril grumbled. “I will know when I find him.”

The sound of distant trumpets echoed across the valley but was muffled by the closed window of Idril’s tower room; however, the two friends still heard the sounds. Their curiosity was even further piqued when the answering horns of the city were bellowed from the walls. Wondering as to why such a grand announcement was being given, both stared toward the nearest window.

“What was that? Is there a surprise event planned to cheer us all?” Idril asked Elrilya.

“I know not,” Elrilya answered just as dumbfounded. “Let us go see.”

Rising the two walked to the window, tossed aside the curtains, and opened the locks of the glass panes. As they threw the window open, a blast of cold air hit them but they still leaned out to peer across the landscape.

“There, what is that procession?” Elrilya pointed out to the road that led from Gondolin to the hidden gates.

“There is no other standard but Ecthelion’s, and he rides at the front,” Idril said.

Elrilya saw that Idril was correct as she espied the captain in his full armor riding his white horse. A host of his soldiers from the gate followed him, their silver armor studded with diamonds sparkling against the white snow. In the middle, two riders stood out amongst the others for they wore dark cloaks compared to the light around them. They were flanked by Ecthelion’s vanguard as if they were prisoners yet, had an honorable approach of distinguished guests. One was a dark-haired elf, that much they could see, but the other wore an elven-made helm with several white swan feathers acting as a plume and beneath the helm his golden locks spilled out over his shoulders. Idril and Elrilya continued watching the arrivals as they rode into the city.

“Come, they will be calling an audience with Atar,” Idril said as she shut the windows. “We can find out more if we go to the hall.”

Together the pair of friends followed the curves and paths of the hallways down to the lower levels where Turgon had his throne room. Of course, they were not the only ones to have heard the horns announcing the visitors and to have seen Ecthelion’s grand entrance: many courtiers, guards, lords, and ladies were filling the passages to head to the hall where Turgon’s throne sat. When they arrived, Maeglin stood by his seat to the right-hand side of Turgon’s and he appeared as stoic as he typically was among such crowds. Idril left her friend’s side, giving her a quick farewell smile, as she took her place in front of the seat opposite of Maeglin’s on the other side of the throne.

“His Majesty, the High King!” Turgon’s herald announced and all hushed at his call.

Turgon entered the room and all bowed or curtsied in respect as he took his seat. Idril and Maeglin followed in unison beside Turgon to await Ecthelion and his wards. Moving through the crowd, Elrilya found a position among the lords and ladies so that she could see the empty path where the soldiers would soon be coming. She suddenly felt a warm hand slip over her waist and rest on her hip. Looking up, she found Glorfindel’s warm green eyes looking down at her with a welcoming smile.

“Do you know what is happening? Did someone come through the hidden way?” Elrilya whispered to him.

“It appears so,” Glorfindel replied quietly. “We did not see them arrive but a guard gave word to Turgon that Voronwë, son of Aranwë, was recognized in the company.”

Their own and other murmurs of the crowd quieted as many footsteps were heard coming down the corridors outside the hall. The guards opened the doors and Ecthelion entered first, removing his spiked helm as he led the others inside. When all had come, the dark-haired elf and his company kneeled before Turgon’s throne.

“Rise. What is this display, Lord Ecthelion?” Turgon asked. “And whom have you brought with you?”

“My lord, Elemmakil brought these two arrivals to my gate and, as warden following your creed of this land, have brought them to you for judgment,” Ecthelion replied. “Voronwë, son of Aranwë, has shown a stranger, one of the Second Born, the hidden way to the city. However, it is best you hear… and see what news they bring.”

The golden-haired stranger stepped forward and at his side Voronwë also approached the throne. The man pulled aside his cloak and hushed voices gasped in awe at the sight, for the man wore a hauberk and helm that Turgon had left behind in Nevrast. Many had seen the items when Turgon had placed them upon the wall behind the great seat in his old palace and they now recognized it as much as the king did. At the man's hip the accompanying sword was sheathed and upon his back he carried the shield.

Turgon nodded to Voronwë then turned to the man, "Welcome, O Man of the Land of Shadows. Lo! thy coming was set in our books of wisdom, and it has been written that there would come to pass many great things in the homes of the Gondothlim whenso thou faredst hither."*

As the man removed the helm from his head, Elrilya felt her breath disappear. Glorfindel’s hold around her tightened and she could feel the same shock and mix of overwhelming emotions erupt within him as she was having. The one who stood before them could have been the twin of one of the young boys who had once graced the halls of that very palace. His light hair shone in the light of the room despite the weariness of travel and his eyes told a story of a soul much older than his youthful appearance. Could it be…

“My King,” the man spoke. “I am Tuor, son of Huor, and I have come on a great errand from the Lord of the Waters.”

Voices and exclamations of disbelief quickly spread but were silenced as Turgon raised his hand for quiet.

"Behold, O father of the City of Stone, I am bidden by him who maketh deep music in the Abyss, and who knoweth the mind of Elves and Men, to say unto thee that the days of Release draw nigh. There have come to the ears of Ulmo whispers of your hill of vigilance against the evil of Melko, and he is glad: but his heart is wroth and the hearts of the Valar are angered who sit in the mountains of Valinor and look upon the world from the peak of Taniquetil, seeing the sorrow of the thraldom of the Noldoli and the wanderings of Men; for Melko ringeth them in the Land of Shadows beyond hills of iron. Therefore have I been brought by a secret way to bid you number your hosts and prepare for battle, for the time is ripe.” *

The silence following Tuor’s words hung in the air following his pronouncement. It was if a faraway voice, one which they had known in another life long ago, had spoken through the mortal standing among them. Turgon appeared to contemplate the importance of the news while all waited to hear what the High King had to say about heading to battle again so soon after a terrible defeat.

“That will I not do, though it be the words of Ulmo and all the Valar. I will not adventure this my people against the terror of the Orcs, nor emperil my city against the fire of Melko.”*

“Nay, if thou dost not now dare greatly then will the Orcs dwell for ever and possess in the end most of the mountains of the Earth, and cease not to trouble both Elves and Men, even though by other means the Valar contrive hereafter to release the Noldoli; but if thou trust now to the Valar, though terrible the encounter, then shall the Orcs fall, and Melko’s power be minished to a little thing.”*

Tuor awaited Turgon’s answer, but the king was deep in thought again and his lips were a tight line, betraying his hesitance in wishing to follow Ulmo’s guidance.

“If you shall not heed the call for war, then sail for Valinor from the Mouths of Sirion and return home to be among your kin. For the Valar and Eldar still abide there safely with magic wrought to hide the shores from evil. Messengers will win their hearts to your side to deal the final strike against the Dark Lord,” Tuor spoke; however, the voice of Ulmo had diminished a little.

Turgon shook his head and rose from his throne to walk toward the son of his lost friend, “That I have been doing nigh many years now to no avail. None of my messengers have returned, save but the Elda who stands beside you now. By the grace of a Vala, it appears he has been spared the fate of his fellow mariners.”

Looking to his companion, Tuor sought Voronwë’s confirmation and the elf slowly nodded his head in affirmation.

"Master Voronwë had told me of the purpose of his sea-faring; however, I did not know many more had come before him," Tuor replied honestly.

"That is why I must wonder as to Ulmo's intent to call me now through your words to leave my city," Turgon explained. "To leave this place he had given me insight to build, to go back to a home that apparently still does not wish me and my people to return."

Silence came from Tuor, for he had no reasoning to give the king standing in front of him. Turgon’s sad gaze turned away as he walked back to his seat; whereupon, Maeglin then approached the pair of travelers, his focus mostly on the man before him.

“What would Lord Ulmo wish us to do then if the Valar still begrudge the actions of the Noldor many years ago? Continue to wage a war with the Dark Lord? We lost a great many citizens of Gondolin in the battle that claimed not only countless Eldar, but also your father and his brother, both falling with their hosts. Since that decimation of the soldiers of Men and Eldar, your homelands have been overrun by the Eastern tribes who betrayed my cousins after being corrupted by Morgoth. The Falas have been destroyed and all but too recently, the people in the vast caves of Nargothrond have been enslaved or killed after the attack of the vile fire-drake,” the young elf said, pacing in front of Tuor but speaking to all present. “Gondolin is what is left and I say we are better safe here in the Hidden Valley.”

“I have said what words of advice I can give from the Vala who chose me for this task,” Tuor said, holding his shoulders back and standing tall. “It is not my decision nor yours, but your King’s, to heed what the Lord of the Waters has brought to him.”

Maeglin looked to rebuke the man, but Turgon came forth and placed a hand on his sister-son’s shoulder. With a nod, Maeglin stepped back to his place while the High King looked into Voronwë and Tuor’s faces with a warm smile.

“I forgive you, son of Aranwë, for showing the secret way to a stranger. No judgment shall be passed upon you,” Turgon proclaimed. “You saw the grace of the Valar within your companion and knew of the importance of his duty.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Voronwë answered and bowed his head.

“As for you, Tuor,” Turgon began when he turned to the mortal. “You are welcome in my city as your father and his brother once were. For you also have the favor of a Valar who has blessed me with his presence and voice, too. Due to that, you will not have judgment placed on you, but like all others of this realm, you cannot leave this land.”

“I understand, High King Turgon,” Tuor acknowledged and bowed. “I thank you for your welcome to me.”

“Very well,” the elf smiled. “I must return to other matters, but I would wish you both to join me for the midday meal so that I may hear your tale fully.”

“Yes, my lord,” Voronwë and Tuor said in unison.

As the king went to leave, all in the hall bowed and curtsied then erupted into excited noise. Kin of Voronwë, including his own sire, were in the crowd and gladly embraced him and the elf’s face was beaming with happiness. Maeglin, aloof and not especially pleased, followed in the wake of his uncle’s departure. Idril remained, watching as the friendly lords and ladies of the court introduced themselves to Tuor, who looked a little overwhelmed but finally relaxed from the intensity of the meeting with Turgon.

“My Lord Glorfindel.”

Elrilya and Glorfindel, who both were still staring at Tuor, faced Turgon’s herald who had come to their sides.

“Yes? What is it?” Glorfindel asked.

“The King asked that your counsel with him this morning reconvene later this afternoon,” the herald informed him. “And, if you could, take our new arrival to one of the empty chambers to settle in and wash before his meal with the King.”

“I will,” Glorfindel acknowledged and squeezed Elrilya’s hand before releasing it.

Gently pushing through the crowd, Glorfindel weaved his way towards the throng surrounding Tuor. Many still held the man’s attention and the elf waited for an opportunity to speak. In the meantime, he studied Tuor’s face, awed as to how much the man looked like Huor. The young boy who had oft spent time in Glorfindel’s home and later fought beside him at Nirnaeth Arnoediad was not much older than Tuor’s age when he fell protecting the rear of Gondolin’s retreating forces. Eventually, Glorfindel saw the young man look his way and the two stared at one another for a short moment. The elf then took it upon himself to take the next step he had been anticipating.

“Hello, my good lord,” Tuor greeted and bowed his head.

“Welcome to Gondolin, I am Lord Glorfindel,” the elf introduced himself.

Tuor’s face brightened in recognition and he said, “I know of your name and reputation, for you are spoken of highly in the stories of the Grey Elves with whom I spent my childhood.”

“Am I?” Glorfindel asked, surprised and humbled at learning of his good standing elsewhere.

“Indeed,” Tuor confirmed. “It is an honor to meet you, as it is for me to be in the company of all in Gondolin for I have traveled and sought long to find this fair place.”

Glorfindel took the man’s offered arm and clasped it, realizing he could no longer hold back the beaming, proud smile threatening to show itself.

“As it is for me, too, to have come to know you,” Glorfindel added. “I spent many days with your uncle and father when they lived here a short time. Huor was… very close to my family.”

After speaking his words, Glorfindel could see that Tuor did not miss the emotional tone his voice had taken when he spoke of Huor and Húrin. The man’s eyes shone visibly of a long held sadness but it was blinked away with his glowing smile.

“Perhaps you could tell me more one day of my father,” Tuor finally managed to find his voice. “I had always thought he and my uncle had come here due to the stories told after their sudden arrival while having been away for a whole year. I never knew him since I was born not long after the battle.”

Motioning towards the corridor at the end of the great hall, Glorfindel said, “Please, the King has asked me to see that you have a room here in the palace.”

“That is very kind of the both of you,” Tuor said and followed Glorfindel as the elf led the way.

Outside the great hall's doors it was quieter than the noise of jubilation and there a lone figure waited.

"Tuor, this is my lady, Elrilya," Glorfindel said, feeling his heart swell as he saw her eyes shine with happiness that he had not seen in a long time.

"Dear lady," he said and bowed his head to her but he stopped, then stared with surprise into her face when he felt her warm hands on his cheeks.

"Please, you do not need to be so formal with us," she said with a smile. "This is a homecoming for our kinsman."

"Very well, if you wish it," Tuor said, a little stunned and uncertain at the familial acceptance.

"Elrilya, did you wish to continue our meal this morning...?"

Idril stepped into the corridor behind her friend and quieted when she noticed Tuor in her and Glorfindel's company.

"Apologies, I did not realize you were engaged at the moment," the princess finished speaking.

"It is quite all right, my lady," Tuor replied, stepping forward. "You must be the Lady Idril Celebrindal, Itarillë of Tirion."

"That I am," she answered then, blushing, Idril became speechless as the fair man kneeled in front of her and took her palm in his to bestow a kiss to the top of her hand. Hastily she bid him to rise and clasped his hand between both of hers.

"Will you be joining the King at the midday meal as well?" Tuor asked, his blue eyes never leaving her gray ones.

"Yes," Idril smiled and looked to her two friends. "We all shall be there to hear of your tale."

"Idril is quite an admirer of stories," Glorfindel jumped in suddenly. "Since she was a child, she has always asked to hear of my travels."

"Then I shall make certain to not leave any detail forgotten," Tuor said, still letting Idril hold his hand.

Suddenly realizing her forgetfulness, Idril dropped the man's hand and smoothed the front of her dress, "I would like that. Well, I shall leave you then to your preparations."

"I will go with you," Elrilya offered and took her friend's arm as the light-haired elleth walked past her. She sent an amused but loving glance towards Glorfindel as she walked away.

Once they were out of earshot and sight, Elrilya turned to her friend, "What is the matter with you? I have never seen you so undone since we were in court with Cirdan ages ago when that delegation from Brithombar made a scene to gain your attentions."

"Nothing, I was not expecting such an introduction," Idril tried to shush her.

"Mayhaps it is Ecthelion's influence," Elrilya mused. "After that grand announcement from the gate, a newcomer must think we all make such a spectacle even for the smallest of things."

"Quite right," Idril laughed.

Elrilya simply nodded and said no more despite her curiosity as to why her childhood friend seemed so lost in thought.

* * * * *
"What do you think of Gondolin thus far? It seems you know much about many of us already," Glorfindel asked.

"Beautiful," Tuor replied, seemingly distant watching Idril and Elrilya disappear down the hallway before turning back to the elf beside him. "I cannot wait to see the valley at its best in the height of summer."

"I know you will appreciate it when the season finally comes upon us," Glorfindel nodded and led his companion the opposite way. "This winter has a chill, one that means to stay."

"That it does, but it, too, shall pass," Tuor answered.


Glossary
Ulmondil – a name for Tuor, meaning friend of Ulmo (Unfinished Tales)
Ontáro – father (less formal)
Atar – father

* Excerpts from The Book of Lost Tales Volume 2, pg. 161 "The Fall of Gondolin"