Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Eternal	By : trekqueen Category: +First Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 7375 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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

Author’s Notes: I have had several of these chapters on the backburner waiting for another look-over before I posted them for reading. Life got busy and such, first kid is crazy awesome and now she has a little brother. On top of that I am still working part-time and doing my cosplay sewing projects to keep my creative side going. Currently I am halfway through writing the chapter for Glorfindel’s perspective of the Fall of Gondolin. I hope to get that posted in due time for everyone.
Chapter Fifty-Seven: Úlairehín
There was much rejoicing for a time in the House of the Golden Flower after the birth of Túrelio, son of Glorfindel and Elrilya. He shared with his mother her darkened hair, a swath of it adorned his crown, and had deep blue eyes like the color of the summer sky. Yet, as he grew, it was obvious he resembled his sire in many other ways. Glorfindel was surprised at how much he marveled at Túrelio’s new discoveries and when his son learned about new things each day that his elders took for granted and commonplace.
Despite the troubles surrounding the event of his birth, Túrelio had the spirit to rival that of the Valar. Even though he was born weeks earlier than intended, he was of healthy size and strength that assisted him in thriving. The child won the hearts of many and oft the warriors of his house spoke of the great deeds he would do, as he already had shown his mighty will in his first of many battles.
Practically living at Glorfindel and Elrilya’s home following Túrelio’s birth, Idril doted on the babe of her friend and did not mind attending to the child when Elrilya needed to care for herself or take a rest during the day due to waking up throughout the night. Thálgwen would spend a day each week to visit her friend and let their sons be together. At first, there was little the children could do together when Híthtán was starting to become mobile and Túrelio was barely rolling over on the rugs. Once the first year had passed, however, it was obvious the boys had a bond and became near inseparable.
On various visits with the King, Glorfindel did not miss many of the glances the King made toward Idril or comments Turgon made alluding to his missing the presence of young children, like when Elrilya and Idril had been small elflings. Glorfindel knew Turgon well enough that the king and his late wife had once desired to grow their family, but all that had changed with Fëanor’s insurrection in Valinor and Elenwë’s resulting death upon the Helcaraxë. Thus, the High King took solace in enjoying the company of his foster daughter and best friend’s son as a surrogate grandchild for the time being.
Idril was well aware of her father’s thoughts on the subject but still had not broached speaking to her father of the budding feelings she and Tuor held. Glorfindel did not speak of it to either of them, but he knew Elrilya often gave advice to her close friend. The pressing element that stood an obstacle in going further showed much in Idril’s eyes as to her inner turmoil whenever she looked upon Túrelio – the prospect of marriage and children. Glorfindel and Elrilya had spent many spans of years of the Edain courting and eventually making their bond as mates, then another lengthy spell until deciding on having a child. Tuor only had but a little time in comparison if he and Idril were to wed and have a family of their own. They had to decide together first before making their relationship more known to others.
The future held many uncertainties; Glorfindel realized this with much more clarity now having a family. He wondered about Túrelio’s future and what life would be like for him if Morgoth continued to threaten the lands of the Eldar and Edain alike. Turgon still had his misgivings about leaving his fair city, but he knew they would one day soon have to depart in following the bidding of Ulmo’s warning.
Such were Glorfindel’s thoughts the afternoon he rode to the gates hidden in the mountains. He was to gather the latest information Ecthelion had from his post and of the patrols, then return to Turgon’s hall to relay them to the King and his counselors. As had been the case since even prior to Tuor’s arrival, Glorfindel knew from Turgon the purpose and sway Ulmo held over the King. Yet, it seemed still not quite enough to push the High King of the Eldar into leaving.
As Glorfindel reached the edge of the valley, he urged his horse to climb the trails into the hidden passages of the foothills rising in front of him. Eventually the dark opening of the tunnel appeared in front of him and he slowed his steed as they entered. Several archers and spearmen on duty at the gates were present and lining the various ledges within the cavern; however, Glorfindel noticed they were at an anxious attention. Glorfindel caught sight of Galuhíl, his herald of his House, and called out his name.
“My lord,” the younger elf greeted as he approached.
“What is it that has the sentries at the ready?” Glorfindel asked. “And where is Lord Ecthelion?”
“There are strange happenings, my lord,” Galuhíl responded. “Lord Ecthelion left not but four days ago to find the source of a voice calling for King Turgon echoing across the mountains. At noontime we heard similar calls through the hidden passage.”
“Voices? Calling for the King?” Glorfindel said incredulously. “Has anyone stepped forth into the passage along the secret way to find the origin?”
“Nay, many fear it is a trick of the Dark Lord,” Galuhíl explained. “It claims to be the King’s friend Húrin. Many disbelieved it, or feared it was some sort of foul phantom. Was the Man not slain at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad?”
“Aye, or so we thought,” Glorfindel said as he dismounted and shook his head to himself, this story was becoming stranger at every second Galuhíl spoke. “If you remember, we left him and his brother, Huor, at our rear to protect our retreat.”
“That I do recall,” Galuhíl nodded. “Nararáto was left in Lord Ecthelion’s stead and he was considering going into the secret way to see for himself if it was Húrin, but he feared he would not know well the man whom he had seen so many years ago.”
“Seek him out and let him know that I will go myself,” Glorfindel said and tied his horse to a nearby post.
“Aye, my lord,” Galuhíl confirmed and raced off at a sprint to find the other elf.
Glorfindel swiftly made his way to a crevice high above the gates. Several more sentries were watching the archways with anticipation and curiosity. The ones along Glorfindel’s path parted to let the golden-haired elf come through and there seemed a sense of relief at seeing him present. The entire way, he heard no evidence of the voices Galuhíl had mentioned.
“Guard, when last was the voice heard this way?” Glorfindel asked one of the Noldor elves nearest to the gate.
“A half-hour or so, my lord.”
“I will go forth and seek out the speaker myself,” Glorfindel informed him. “If I return not in an hour, then block and fortify the passage and gates.”
“Very well, my lord,” replied the elf, his eyes worried at Glorfindel’s command. “What of the High King’s edict…?”
“If nothing terrible befalls me, then he can decide himself what my fate is,” Glorfindel explained coolly and that quieted the young guard.
Taking his leave, Glorfindel crouched through a small passage that overlooked the main gate which held only enough room for one person to traverse at a time. The cavern on the other side of the Seven Gates was dark and silent; no sign of life was noticeable to Glorfindel. He wandered further on the high pathway that was narrow and left little room for him to walk steadily. After a long while, he finally reached the mouth of the secret way.
Overgrown bushes and trees had converged since the march of many feet during the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and the cave was well-hidden from the outside. Easing by the edge of the outlet, Glorfindel saw that the fogs of the outer lands had swept over the hills and clouded the entrance. Hesitantly, he stepped further out under the protection of the thick clouds but still concealed himself amongst the shrubs and tall grasses. Even with his keen senses, he could not see far in the thick grey that shrouded everything in front of him. However, he noticed something just as he was about to depart.
Crawling close to the ground, Glorfindel peered out into the damp air and saw footprints. They appeared to be that of a grown Man, definitely not like that of the orcs he tracked on patrol. The steps seemed heavy and by someone who may have dragged one foot a little, as if burdened with age or infirmity. Glorfindel felt an urge to call out, hoping for a moment it was truly Húrin; though, he held back on the concern that it still could be a trap and he did not wish to bring attention to the passageway of Gondolin. Slinking back across his veiled approach, Glorfindel quickly climbed back up the rock face. He had just reached the widest edge when Nararáto came upon him.
“My lord!” Nararáto exclaimed. “Galuhíl told me you sought out the voice; we became worried as your hour approached as ordered to the guard.”
“No fear, Nararáto, I have come but not wholly empty handed,” Glorfindel said, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Someone was indeed out there, but has since departed. I must seek out the King at once.”
“Curious affairs,” the other elf wondered aloud. “Lord Ecthelion was spotted returning, do you wish to see him before you seek your audience?”
“Indeed,” Glorfindel said as they each took a turn to pass behind the safety of the gates again. “I am certain the King would appreciate his counsel as well.”
Just as Nararáto had said, Ecthelion entered the cavern as both Nararáto and Glorfindel returned. The golden-haired elf greeted his good friend and clasped hands, but Glorfindel could see Ecthelion was troubled by the news of the other voices heard after his departure into the mountains.
“I heard you went out into the cave,” Ecthelion commented.
“Though, no soul was there, I did find tracks,” Glorfindel replied.
“As did we,” Ecthelion nodded. “We tracked them into a valley and upon several peaks but did not follow them beyond the Echoriath. They moved toward the river pass.”
“Let us ride to the city and seek Turgon’s ear. He must know of this soonest.”
Ecthelion called for his horse and once he was ready, he followed Glorfindel out into the valley. The evening was upon them and the ride was marked with the growing shadows of the mountains as Anar slid out of sight. The first sparkles of twilight were straining against the glow on the horizon as the two elves entered the city. They rode straight to the palace and left their horses with the guards at the fountains and courtyards outside. Their hastened arrival drew the attention of many nearby but they only watched as the friends climbed the steps.
They were not stopped until they reached Turgon’s hall and conversed with one of the guards within to seek out the King. They waited with weighted patience as Glorfindel paced the room while Ecthelion dusted off the grime of his travels so that he was not entirely unkempt in front of Turgon. The sound of doors opening caught their attention and they looked up only found Maeglin as company.
“Where is Turgon?” Glorfindel asked.
“Finishing the evening meal with the princess,” the dark-haired sister-son of the king answered then wrinkled his nose. “He even saw fit to invite the Adan to join us. The High King asked me to attend to your issue.”
“We have a matter of great importance he needs to hear, Maeglin,” Ecthelion impressed upon the younger elf whom he considered a close friend.
“I will relay that to him,” Maeglin answered, his eyes flashing with consternation.
“This is not something with which to play messenger,” Glorfindel pressed.
“I play no such games,” Maeglin said, his lips curling into a frown at the golden-haired elf. “I am at his side in all matters of the city. I see no reason to interrupt his meal unless the Dark Lord is about to sweep upon us.”
Glorfindel shook his head and made to walk past Maeglin into the hallway, but the sister-son of the King blocked his path. There was a fury building deep within his stare that suddenly reminded Glorfindel of the defiant and controlling sire who sought to control the lives of wife and son.
“You dishonor me with your action,” Maeglin said quietly with a slight tremble in his voice. “Respect the wishes of the King and that I will inform him as to the purpose of your –”
“Maeglin, Glorfindel… what is this match of stares?” Turgon asked, suddenly appearing behind the younger elf.
“Nothing, my lord,” Glorfindel replied, not taking his weighted glance off Maeglin until the dark-haired elf blinked and lowered his gaze. “We have an understanding.”
“Very well,” Turgon conceded but was not in the least concerned about it as he seemed quite excited. “I have some wonderful news.”
“What might that be?” Glorfindel asked as Maeglin stepped aside and Ecthelion came closer.
“It is more that we have the news to give,” Idril said with a warm smile as she and Tuor entered the room, their hands clasped.
“The King has given us his consent,” Tuor added, the happiness he felt was glowing from the smile he also bore.
“Consent for what?” Maeglin said in complete confusion.
“To court one another, of course,” Tuor answered him.
“That is outrageous! It is not permitted!” Maeglin all but yelled, his earlier anger finally spilling over with the revelation.
The annoyance leveled at her cousin was strong in Idril’s glare but it did not match the disapproval Turgon had. Glorfindel and Ecthelion stepped back a moment from the tense air suddenly reverberating in the room.
“Says you, cousin? Thank the Valar it is not for you to decide,” Idril replied coolly.
“When it comes to my daughter, her relations are not some matter to be determined by the lords and council,” the King said, narrowing his eyes at his nephew.
Maeglin had more to say but the admonishment kept him silent, only his eyes belied his frustration and disgust. He folded his arms like a petulant child and stormed over to one of the windows of the hall that overlooked the courtyards. Turgon stared after the younger elf for a moment and shook his head before turning to his two lords.
“So much for celebration,” Turgon muttered and tried to regain his happy mien.
“I am gladdened in any case,” Glorfindel said, attempting to help but also show his feelings on the matter. “I wish only the best for you both.”
“As do I,” Ecthelion joined in with the well-wishing.
“Thank you, my lords,” Tuor bowed his head.
“Now… what is it that you have come to tell me so urgently?” Turgon asked, turning the subject back to the purpose of Ecthelion and Glorfindel’s arrival.
“Of course,” Glorfindel answered and deferred to Ecthelion, as he was the one who had investigated the first reports.
“A few days past, patrols reported hearing a voice calling over the mountains of the Echoriath,” Ecthelion began. “It traveled, not always coming from one place, and tracks were discovered by the scouts. After word reached us at the gates, I left with several soldiers to find the source but to no avail. We did, however, find footprints and remains of fires where camp was made.”
“Could it have been orcs?” Turgon queried.
“Nay, it was unlike their trespassing and we only found evidence of one traveler,” Ecthelion shook his head. “The voice also claimed to be that of Húrin and was seeking you, my king.”
At Ecthelion’s words, Turgon held his breath and furrowed his brow. He stepped away and ran his fingers thoughtfully over his jaw. Even Maeglin was torn from his brooding by the window to hear the strange story. Tuor and Idril, too, mirrored the King’s silent disbelief but Tuor found his voice first.
“I thought my uncle to have been killed alongside my sire at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad,” he said.
“As did we believe,” Glorfindel nodded. “I was one of the last to lay eyes upon them before we took retreat into the fogs of the pass.”
“No one has since, even with these voices in the mountains?” Turgon contemplated as he paced around the room.
“None,” Ecthelion confirmed. “However, the voice was heard near the secret way and echoed into the gates earlier this afternoon.”
Turgon turned with alarm on his face, “Was the way discovered?”
“It appears not,” Glorfindel calmed him. “Ecthelion had not yet returned from his search and I had arrived not long after. Nararáto of my house heard it with his own ears, as did all others there, but he was uncertain if he would know the face of the young man he once knew. I went into the passage to seek out the speaker.”
“You disobeyed the King’s command that none shall leave this valley?” Maeglin asked but it came out more an accusation.
“To be forthright, I did not venture beyond the opening of the cavern but stayed at its edge in the growth that has hidden it,” Glorfindel replied, staring right at the young elf. “However, yes, I did go through the secret passage.”
“What did you find?” Turgon motioned for him to continue.
“The fogs of the pass pressed upon the hillsides and I could not see anyone,” the golden-haired elf described his search. “Although, I also found footprints around the perimeter, much like Ecthelion and the scouts saw in the mountains.”
“And the voice was not heard since? You did not hear it yourself?”
“No, my lord.”
Tuor stepped forward to implore the king, “We should send a patrol beyond the secret way.”
“Bringing the threat of discovery?” Maeglin confronted and turned his attention to Turgon. “It is a danger to every life here to let anyone beyond the valley.”
“My uncle… your friend and practically a son, could be out there wandering in the wilderness,” Tuor continued and ignored Maeglin beside him. “My King, you told me yourself that Húrin and my sire sacrificed themselves for you to yet live. Do we not owe him this?”
Turgon did not answer immediately, but he paced to a nearby window and leaned on the sill as he gazed towards the hills that held the gateway into the valley.
“We do owe him much,” Turgon conceded. “However, his sacrifice was, as you said, to protect Gondolin. To seek him out may bring upon us that which he sought to keep away. We cannot risk that chance.”
“Sire,” Tuor tried again but the King cut him short when he raised his hand.
“My decision is final,” Turgon said. “May the Valar protect him if it is indeed Húrin.”
* * * * *

Reaching out carefully, Glorfindel tucked a wayward strand of wispy, dark hair behind a tiny pointed ear. Túrelio slept peacefully in his crib with a blanket clutched in his tiny fist and a stuffed toy dog keeping guard in the corner. Glorfindel dared not disturb his son further but continued to gaze upon him for several more minutes as his soft breathing permeated the quiet. With a sigh, the golden-haired lord stepped away and quietly closed the door until a small sliver of an opening was left.
The house was silent for the evening and the warmth of summer was starting to wane into the cooler climate of autumn. It still was enjoyable enough that one could enjoy the night air for a while without the chill becoming burdensome. Glorfindel found Elrilya in her garden, lounging with her feet up upon the bench cushions and sipping tea. She was admiring her hard work for the day of planting flowers for the new season. The trees were changing colors but her purple coneflowers, morning glory, goldenrod, and chrysanthemums emphasized the earthy tones even more against the white walls.
“He went to sleep with nary a complaint,” Glorfindel said as he placed a hand upon her shoulder.
“All the playing and excitement from earlier wore him out,” Elrilya smiled, laying her palm upon his hand. “He misses you dearly when you go on your patrols.”
Glorfindel walked around the bench and raised her feet so that he could sit beside her and then rested her legs over his lap. He placed a hand upon her knee and absentmindedly caressed her leg while staring up into the twinkling ceiling of stars above them.
“I still find it so strange... yet amazing all the same... that I have a son now,” he wondered aloud to her. “Children can change everything. I feel as if my heart is never at ease, be it from him creating more joy with each new discovery I see him make or from the worry I carry in wanting to keep him safe.”
“What else weighs heavy upon you this day?” Elrilya asked, her blue eyes searching for an answer from the corner of his sight. “This afternoon and supper you were distracted.”
“Much as always,” he smirked a little and turned his gaze to his beloved. “I wonder now at the pain I must have put my own parents through in joining Turgon on his quest eastward. To leave them alone and without knowledge of what my fate is here. It was different with my travels throughout Aman, they always knew I would return. I do not know if I could bear such a sundering from Túrelio.”
Elrilya’s soft hand took his again and she had tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Glorfindel knew it was difficult for her as well, having seen her parents slain in the kinslaying. The intent had been to begin anew with her family in the east, but all of that had changed that fateful day of bloodshed. Her family was sundered by traumatic death whilst his were alive, yet left in continual separation. She had her own demons plaguing her with newfound parenthood hidden under the joy a child brings.
However, Glorfindel realized, things could have passed very differently. Despite her friendship with Idril, Elrilya’s parents had sworn fealty to Feanor’s household and followed his banner to their end. If they had survived to cross the Helcaraxe and beyond, Glorfindel and she may not have come to discover their love. The same would have been so if his father had been successful in his attempt to convince Glorfindel to remain in the Blessed Realm. So many possibilities and change in the winds had made this fate for them.
“What brought such thoughts to you?”
Glorfindel held his tongue out of concern of bringing up the simmering grief of losing the Edain brothers but decided to speak it, “There were reports of a voice and echo through the mountains this week. Then today there was another heard coming from outside the Hidden Way. It claimed to be Húrin.”
“Was it him?” Elrilya queried.
“I do not know,” Glorfindel answered with a sigh. “I arrived after the voice had ceased and I walked the path to see if someone truly was there. I only found footprints. Ecthelion had searched the mountains but also to no avail.”
“He would be but an old man now,” Elrilya contemplated. “You have heard and seen those who follow in the Hammer of the Wrath. They escaped the torture of the Dark Lord and were nearly broken when found. If that could happen to an Elda, what of a man such as he? I do not want to think he was tormented so for this long.”
“Nor do I. Tuor wished to seek him out, but Maeglin spoke against it and Turgon agreed,” Glorfindel continued. “The troubles the patrols have been seeing and now with this unknown traveler so close to the borders... it has made him concerned.”
“Perhaps it is time to listen to the words of Ulmo,” Elrilya offered.
Glorfindel shook his head and lowered his gaze, “Nay, Turgon will never leave these walls behind. Not with that little mole of a sister-son whispering in his ear.”
“Maeglin? What did he do now?”
“Ah, the usual,” Glorfindel grumbled and waved his hand in the air. “He acted like a cockerel puffing his feathers and tried to sound like he knew what was most important for the king. Ecthelion later made excuses for him again, that he is still young and finding his way.”
“He very much knows his way and what he wants,” Elrilya agreed. “How did he take the news of Tuor and Idril? She said they would be seeking approval today.”
“If not for my prior incident with him beforehand, I do not think it would have been nearly as shocking as it came to be,” Glorfindel chuckled. “I thought Turgon was about to take him to task himself.”
“I would think we shall see more of that once Idril and Tuor make it official,” Elrilya piqued an eyebrow. “The way they are together... it will be a surprise if there is no wedding in the near future.”
“They both deserve one another,” Glorfindel smiled as he raised Elrilya’s hand to kiss the top of it.
Glossary

úlairehín - ghost child

Edain (pl) / Adan (singular) – the race of Men
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Eternal