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.

Chapter List
- 57
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Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my own characters, everything belongs to Tolkien the genius.

Author’s Notes: Chugging along and life is busy but I am determined to finish this story. :)
Chapter Fifty-Eight: Vestale
“Túrelio,” Glorfindel warned, but his voice was warm with the love he held. “Be gentle to poor Váremo. He is no horse to ride.”
The bright blue eyes of Glorfindel’s son looked up to his sire and showed the turmoil the young child had within him; however, he nodded with a small pout. Túrelio reluctantly removed himself from the hound’s back and instead ran his fingers over the short hair of Váremo’s belly. The dog grunted and stretched upon the white stone floor in his simple joy of being petted.
“See, he likes this much more,” Glorfindel encouraged as he knelt next the child. “He may not prefer something you do but will not always take you to task for it.”
“Why?” Túrelio asked, an often posed question of his in the house of the captain of the Golden Flower.
“He cares for you as he is a protector of our family,” he explained. “We must treat him well as he does with us.”
Peering down at the grown dog falling asleep with a lazy smile, Glorfindel could hardly remember how Váremo had been so small as a puppy when he had been an anniversary present given to Elrilya many years ago. It would be much the same, the elf imagined, of Túrelio as well. He was already preparing to begin his tutoring with the loremasters at the start of the autumn season.
“If I cannot ride him as a horse, then may I ride one of my own?”
“In a year or two, perhaps. For now, you can still ride with me or your Naneth,” Glorfindel explained, trying to hide his smirk at his son’s logic and request. “Come, we must make way to the seamstresses.”
“Must I?” Túrelio tried hard to not sound like he was whining but it still came out that way.
“You will. They must be certain your attire for the wedding is fitted properly,” the lord explained. “Do you not want to look your best for Idril’s wedding?”
Lowering his eyes and scuffing the toe of his small boot on the floor, Túrelio nodded and begrudgingly replied, “Yes, Atar.”
“Come along, you can ride but for a while on our way there,” Glorfindel chuckled while he lifted Túrelio upon his shoulders. “I do not care for the fittings like you, but the entire city will be watching and we must look our best.”
Glorfindel felt his heart near bursting at the sound of his son’s laughter as they trotted out the door and onto the cobblestone streets. The excitement was palpable of the impending ceremony of Tuor and Idril’s marriage. The people of Gondolin held great love for both the princess and her soon to be husband, as many had not seen a royal bonding in their lifetimes. Walking south from their home through the Great Market, father and son met the bustle where goods were traded and wares bought in preparation for the festivities. All were invited to feast after viewing the ceremony: lords, butchers, guards, stablehands, courtiers, and captains of the great houses alike would join together for it was a holiday for all to enjoy.
Turgon was beyond gladdened to give his daughter’s hand in marriage to Tuor, the man he considered kin. It had been expected already when the king had given his permission for them to seek a relationship, it was but a formality for the two to go through the proper courtship. None bore ill-content at the pairing except one.
With a sigh, Glorfindel pushed out the thoughts of the negative presence that held residence in the King’s Halls, which they were passing at that moment. Elrilya was helping in overseeing the final preparations at the site of the ceremony and she would see to taking Túrelio to his fitting. Turgon had called a counsel of his lords that afternoon that Glorfindel needed to attend.
“Excuse me, my lord.”
“It is quite all right,” Glorfindel assured the young Noldo maiden who had bumped into him. “I had expected much activity here but my thoughts were elsewhere.”
“Planning a wedding is always such, my lord,” she smiled with a quick bow of her head, the box of glassware still carefully clutched in her arms. “Especially a royal one for a princess.”
“Indeed,” the golden-lord agreed as he carefully helped Túrelio to the ground from his high post then glanced about the busy square, the Gar Ainion - otherwise known as the Place of the Gods, as many elves bustled about to decorate the white walls and fountains.
“Hello, little master,” the maiden gave a greeting to Túrelio. “I am Martarel.”
“I am Túrelio,” he replied and gave a little head bow. “What are you doing?”
“These are for the feast so that everyone may have drinks,” the young maiden explained. “They are newly made by the glassmith since the King wants everyone able to celebrate at the festivities for the princess. Are you excited for tomorrow?”
Túrelio gave a little nod, “I will help, too.”
“I cannot wait to see,” Martarel grinned and then turned to Glorfindel politely. “Was it not the same for you? If I may ask, as I was only born here in Gondolin. I have heard from some of the elders of the merriment on your own day in Vinyamar.”
“Aye, it was a beautiful day,” Glorfindel smiled and saw Túrelio glancing over his shoulder at his father for a moment at the mentioning. “However, I am certain this shall surpass it in all ways.”
“There will be stories and songs told for the ages,” Martarel agreed and then glanced to the side. “I see your Lady is by the fountain seeing to the arrangements.”
“My thanks,” Glorfindel said and took Túrelio’s hand. “My best to you, Martarel.”
“As to you, my lord!”
The gardens surrounding the square scented the air with the sweet perfumes of the blossoming flowers as well as brought amazing colors to the place where Idril and Tuor would bind themselves to one another. Jasmine vines and bird’s foot trefoils trailed over lattices and overhangs as Glorfindel maneuvered through the tables and chairs to get to Elrilya before she disappeared with another task to oversee. When Elrilya turned and spotted them, Túrelio broke away and dodged around the moving legs to his mother’s waiting arms. Once Glorfindel made his way a little slower than Túrelio had done, he saw that Elrilya was showering kisses upon the brow of their son as he gave her a grand hug.
“I missed my little one,” she said and then leaned forward for a kiss from Glorfindel to greet him. “Time for trying on robes and tunics for tomorrow.”
“That must wait for me until after I attend counsel with Turgon and the other lords,” Glorfindel explained. “Do not worry, I am certain I have not grown overmuch like Túrelio has since his last clothing was made.”
“Be certain to take Tuor with you then,” Elrilya replied with an imploring look. “He has been avoiding it himself.”
“That I will,” he chuckled then gently ran his hand over Túrelio’s dark head. “Be good for your Naneth.”
Again braving the sea of flowing bodies making last minute preparations, Glorfindel took the alleys with less crowds to make his way back to the Square of the King. Despite the out of the way detour, Glorfindel had some time before the appointed hour to meet and decided to see if Turgon was already present. He and his old friend did not meet as often like they once had in the days of old in Vinyamar or the early years of Gondolin. Life had become busied for the both of them in different ways.
Glorfindel climbed the staircases within the palace to reach the council chambers close to Turgon’s main hall. The accommodations afforded the lords more privacy during important discussions, especially those pertaining to the protection of the city. Most citizens never realized how often the patrols were encountering trespassers in the mountains, the last thing Turgon needed was an unfounded panic over a common occurrence. However, the echos of raised voices soon reached his ears as he approached the throne room. From what he could discern, it was Maeglin and Turgon having a heated exchange.
As Glorfindel rounded the bend in the hallway, he found Ecthelion leaning against the wall and Galdor, captain of the House of the Tree, pacing outside of the closed doors to the council chamber. Ecthelion did not appear worried but seemed concerned about the discussion going on within and Galdor was mostly impatient. Both glanced up towards Glorfindel when he appeared and gave him a short nod of welcome.
“I would not go in there if I were you,” Ecthelion grimaced. “We were inside for the start of it and quietly stepped out once it became intense. They did not even notice.”
“What would cause such a ruckus between them?” Glorfindel asked.
“The wedding,” Galdor grumbled and folded his arms across his chest. “Maeglin has misgivings still about the pairing being appropriate.”
“Tuor specifically then,” Glorfindel determined. “He has not given Maeglin any cause to distrust him so. One would think he envies the man.”
“You make it sound as if he has other intentions - that is not the case,” Ecthelion snorted in annoyance. “He simply wishes the best for her, as they were quite close once and she brought him under her comfort as if he were a true brother.”
“Even siblings may feel threatened by someone new,” Glorfindel countered. Your own kin took such umbrage.”
“Aye,” Ecthelion replied flatly but Glorfindel could see the ire raised in Ecthelion’s eyes at the mentioning of Fëanor, the husband of his father’s sister. “He is concerned for her happiness.”
“Which she has never had more so than now,” Glorfindel pointed out. “Maeglin needs to let her be and find joy with a consort of his own.”
“It is spoken of much in the city that never has the princess been of such gaiety,” Galdor offered.
“Stay out of this, Galdor,” Ecthelion cut him off then raised himself from the wall so that he stood eye to eye with Glorfindel. “What is it that troubles you so about the son of Aredhel? I would say you are the one who has unfounded distrust.”
Taken aback by Ecthelion’s anger, Glorfindel peered at his friend for a moment before speaking. He placed his hands on Ecthelion’s arms to calm him.
“I simply think he needs to leave it be and seek out his own happiness,” Glorfindel said softly between them.
“Says you? The one who could have had the affections of any maiden in Valinor and the Eastern Lands without trying,” Ecthelion said as he pushed off Glorfindel’s hands. “It is not as easy for some of us.”
“Please,” Glorfindel requested as he held his hands out to show he meant no disrespect. “Ecthelion, I do not intend to make comparisons.”
The fire burning within the dark-haired lord boiled over, “You were not there when he grieves still. Or his joys when I taught him all that I know of smithing and gems. His excitement within the forges in creating beauty from things found within the ground. Perhaps he becomes too enamored in what he holds dear, but do not begrudge him his love for his kin.”
“I do not,” Glorfindel implored and tried to keep the situation from escalating like the one within the council chamber. “I understand how you, too, care for him and saw to raising him after - “
“Do you? You say this, having a life as you do: something I had dreamed to have with Aredhel,” Ecthelion cut him off angrily, then said quietly with barely restrained anger: “He could have been my son!”
“That is enough,” said a voice as a blond-haired figure came between them. “What is the matter with you two?”
“Tuor,” Glorfindel greeted him with relief at interrupting the terse situation and dropped his staring match with Ecthelion to look at the man.
Ecthelion bit his lip but stepped back, he gave a short nod towards the soon to be groom. His eyes told of the feelings struggling beneath his calmed face, but he spoke no more words. Galdor still stood nearby and had a look of appreciation that Tuor did what he was not able to do in splitting the two lords.
“You both are the best of friends,” Tuor practically admonished them; however, it was more out of his own surprise to see the two Eldar at odds with one another. “I cannot fathom what would cause such a fracture between you.”
Glorfindel and Ecthelion locked eyes for a moment across the hallway, yet neither spoke of the subject they had discussed. Galdor was not forthcoming either and the four of them stood in silence for a few moments until the door to the council chambers suddenly opened.
“As I suspected, Maeglin. The others are waiting,” Turgon said, peering out from the doorway. “Come, we shall get started once the rest of the lords arrive.”
With a final glance between the previously arguing elves, Tuor followed the king within the room and Galdor swiftly joined him. Ecthelion made to walk past Glorfindel but the golden-haired lord gently placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Ecthelion stopped but lowered his head and shut his eyes tightly at the turmoil within his heart.
“Not now, Glorfindel,” Ecthelion said quietly before meeting his gaze again, the pain and grief of years past returning.
“I want to apologize,” he said. “Tuor’s words are true that we should not let words come between us.”
“Maeglin is all I have left to remember her by,” Ecthelion pleaded. “He... he has nothing. All he had coming here were strangers from stories he heard as an elf-child. Just leave him be, mellon nin.”
Nodding in agreement, Glorfindel squeezed his shoulder and Ecthelion silently returned the gesture before walking into the room. On their heels came the other lords of the great houses of Gondolin: Penlod, Salgant, Rog, Duilin, and Egalmoth. They filed in and took their seats around the table while Turgon sat at the head of it, Tuor to his left and Maeglin to his right. Ecthelion quietly lowered himself into the chair at Maeglin’s other side and Glorfindel to Tuor’s then awaited the King’s words.
With a pile of letters and reports in front of him alongside a quill of ink, Turgon shuffled them into an organized stack before speaking, “My lords, I have been concerned as of late with the missives from the patrols. Most of you have had duties taking part and know of what I mean. Yesterday morn, I received word that one of the groups of miners in search of new ore sources to the eastern mountains were waylaid. Thankfully the guards with them managed to fight the creatures off with the help of the miners. The week prior, a similar situation arose to the southwest. What say you about this news?”
“Your Grace,” Penlod offered with a bow of his head. “As I was there at the attack last week, I can say that our investigation showed that the horde had managed to remain undetected despite a patrol having passed through shortly before. They are growing smarter about our tactics.”
“I agree with Lord Penlod,” Egalmoth added. “We have not had nearly the same numbers nor strength like the attack some years past that Lords Glorfindel and Ecthelion encountered; however, our movements have gradually moved further outward beyond the usual borders we maintained.”
“There are gaps opening,” Turgon nodded, seeing where Egalmoth was heading.
“Lengthening their deployment would not be of any use,” Ecthelion offered. “It also is not feasible to break apart to smaller groups of soldiers with the numbers we have currently at every given patrol.”
Glorfindel joined in on the discussion and bowed his head in agreement with Ecthelion before he turned to face Turgon, “We would need to double those called to duty in order to cover all the ground we are now traveling.”
“Make it triple,” Turgon determined aloud. “We must not allow such incursions to threaten our city. Each great house and those of the lesser houses must do their part in allotting soldiers from their ranks to make this succeed.”
“The Hammer of Wrath will gladly take up more arms to make it so,” Rog declared proudly.
“Well said, Lord Rog,” Tuor smiled at the lord seated next to him.
Egalmoth, Penlod, Duilin, and Galdor made murmurs of similar declarations while Salgant remained stoic but bowed his head slowly in resigned agreement. Maeglin looked indifferent but made the same promise as the others.
“Ecthelion, Glorfindel: see to these plans,” Turgon appointed them.
Glorfindel and Ecthelion shared a glance, they knew it would be difficult to arrange everything initially but they could have the assignments prepared by the following week.
“It will be done,” Glorfindel confirmed.
“Now, the other matter related to this that I wished to discuss...” Turgon began a new topic of discussion. “As all of you are aware, we had the wandering voices nigh a year past. That they passed close to the Hidden Way, I believe it is time we have the passage blocked.”
“My High King,” Maeglin suddenly interjected to the surprise of everyone but calmed himself for a rational response. All understood his initial apprehension given he considered the Gate of Steel his greatest achievement in his craft and to leave it buried behind an avalanche of rock hurt his pride. “What if we are invaded? There is no other way to take such a large citizenry away with great speed.”
“That is a concern,” Turgon gave his sister-son some leeway for his slight outburst.
“Lord Maeglin’s words are of sound counsel,” Salgant tried to support his friend. “There are no other paths of such ease and the ways through the mountains are not cleared well for those not accustomed to such hiking.”
“Warden of the Great Gate, what say you?” Turgon queried Ecthelion.
“By blocking the passage, it would lessen the threat of a great host issuing through the ravine and thus allowing us to decrease the guard present at the gates that will assuage the need of warriors on the patrols,” Ecthelion acknowledged and he received a surprising glare from Maeglin for the affront. “However, I would suggest leaving the high paths above. Although treacherous and narrow, it will still leave a way of escape if need be.”
“That is acceptable,” the king concluded and took the feather in the inkwell to take notes of their meeting but paused to look upon them. “Any dissent?”
“Nay, my lord,” Duilin spoke for those around him. “We agree with yourself and Lord Ecthelion.”
“Very good,” he said finishing his writing then turned back to his assembled lords. “I thank you for attending this unplanned council, I wanted to have these important decisions completed before some of us were inaccessible.”
The king’s humor was surprising to some in attendance but those closer to him, like Ecthelion and Glorfindel, who knew his unexpected wit, smirked quietly at the tease meant for Tuor. The young man did not miss the father of the bride’s obvious meaning and he blushed for a moment at the light-hearted reference.
"Good day to you all and enjoy the merrymaking for my daughter and Tuor, who has been like a son of mine but now truly will be," Turgon added with genuine love and acceptance.
As Turgon stood, so did Tuor and the king took him into a fatherly embrace. The other lords also rose to give early congratulations and well-wishing; however, Glorfindel did not miss Maeglin, red-faced and angry, making a hasty exit with Salgant in tow. Glorfindel stood by to wait until Tuor was done speaking with each of the lords, but had to stop himself from following Ecthelion after the dark-haired elf gave his kind words to the groom and made his retreat. Glorfindel needed to give his friend some space, yet they also had to speak again. He had made a promise to Aredhel concerning Ecthelion and he felt remiss in his duty as of late.
"Glorfindel," Tuor greeted as he lastly saw off Duilin and Turgon. "Do you await to part words of advice on me for wedding night encouragement like your fellow lords?"
"Nay," the elf-lord chuckled. "I am tasked to take you to the seamstresses as we both are required to be fitted one last time."
Tuor sighed, "I suppose I shall. Though, I should be gladdened that much of the planning was out of my hands. I cannot understand how much can go into such a celebration that must be scheduled and prepared."
"No use thinking about it," Glorfindel smiled as he left the council chamber with his friend. "I suppose our ladies would think the same of the duties expected of us."
"Well, I have one other expectation of me that I have put off until now," Tuor confessed as they wound through the palace hallways. "It is a request of you that I make, mellon nin."
"For you, I am always gladdened to assist," Glorfindel offered.
Tuor paused outside of the door of their destination and retrieved a small box from a pocket within his court robes.
"As I am certain you are aware, Elrilya will be at Idril's side in the ceremony acting in place of Idril's late mother," Tuor explained then paused, his voice taking on respect and emotion. "Turgon insisted on officiating, he is quite proud and beyond happy. I wish to ask if you would stand by my side."
Glorfindel at first lost his voice then a wide smile spread over his face, "I would be honored."
"You have been more than a friend, not just to me, but to my sire and uncle as well," Tuor continued and handed the box to Glorfindel. "You welcomed me like no other into your home the moment I arrived. I never expected such a future for myself when I first was tasked by Ulmo... nor even when I was under the terrible thraldom of the tribes. I cannot imagine anything greater than what I have lived in the last few years."
Opening the box, Glorfindel found the golden rings that he and Elrilya would hold for the newlyweds to then bestow upon one another during the ceremony. Memories of his own wedding wove through his mind and he contemplated how far they had come since that day in Vinyamar. Even before that there was Idril, a child who once sat as a toddler upon his knee listening to him tell tales, would be taking a lifelong husband.
"You are one of us and always will be," Glorfindel said and took Tuor into a familial embrace. "Come, there will be time enough for this tomorrow. It shall be the happiest day in the city since its founding."
********
Much to Glorfindel's relief, the fitting went quickly and the seamstress did not need to make any final alterations. Tuor, however, had some extra mending due to changes made to Idril's own dress that would match his attire. Glorfindel left his friend in the busy hands of the seamstresses despite Tuor's protests, all in good fun, that the elf was abandoning him in his time of greatest need. The request made by Tuor still warmed Glorfindel's heart and made him think of the future again with the joy of one day standing beside his own son while Túrelio took his vows.
Leaving the palace and descending the main stairway outside, Glorfindel heard a familiar voice singing upon the air. Sitting alongside one of the grand fountains in the Square of the King, he espied his quandary: a sweet flute played a harmonious melody and Elrilya sang the words to the tune, an old favorite from Valinor. She gently swayed where she sat with Túrelio in her arms while the young child listened and also watched Ecthelion play the instrument. For a moment, Glorfindel could almost imagine that which Ecthelion had desired and spoken of in his words of anger earlier that day: a family together, beside him Aredhel would sit as she held their dark-haired child.
While he stood by, the pair finished their duet and Túrelio smiled broadly at his parents' friend. He stood from his mother's arms and flung himself at Ecthelion, wrapping his small arms around the older elf's neck in the biggest embrace he could muster from his tiny frame. Ecthelion hesitated for a moment at the surprising, yet beloved, response before returning the gesture by wrapping his own arms around Túrelio, clenching his eyes shut as he accepted the simple show of affection. Sometimes the unquestioning love of a child could break through the strongest barriers. Glorfindel saw Elrilya glance his way for a moment when Ecthelion held Túrelio, her eyes were misted with tears while she had a warm smile. She nodded to him that all was well and Ecthelion would not mind his presence. Carefully Glorfindel approached and placed his hand gently on Ecthelion's shoulder. The elf opened his eyes and glanced up at his friend with remorse, he stood while still holding Túrelio.
"I want to apologize for my venomous words," Ecthelion said quietly. "You are not at fault for the demons that still tear at me."
Glorfindel waved it off, "You need not worry, I should have schooled my tongue as well."
"Perhaps it would have been easier in the following days if I had vented my anger upon the one who dealt her death," he sighed. "However, I was too aggrieved at the time of his sentencing. I shall never have recourse."
"That we may not know for certain," Elrilya chimed in as she also rose from her place and rested her hand upon Túrelio's back. “You will see her again.”
"Days like tomorrow oft bring to me some sadness at what was lost... what should have been," Ecthelion confided and turned to Elrilya. "I think of your own day when Aredhel stood as mother beside you. She was beautiful in the moonlight under the stars but she outshone them all with the joy upon her face to see two whom she loved so dearly making a troth for eternity."
"She was alike a sister to me," Glorfindel said. "Her last words to me were of you... always were you in her heart in love and concern. She would not wish you to live in this perpetual grief and I have failed her in making certain you would not."
"Do not burden yourself thusly," Ecthelion seemed pained at the revelation and he tightened his hold on Túrelio who still clutched at him, the child's head resting on Ecthelion's shoulder. "It is a punishment of my own sentencing."
"There need not be any," Glorfindel implored calmly.
“Would you both not do the same in my place if it were by your decision that caused harm to befall the other?" he questioned, his voice softer as to not disturb Túrelio but his only answer from his friends was silence. "Think of those whom you have lost already. Not just those who followed you into battle under your house’s banner to death, but kin such as Elenwë and Aredhel herself. Ten... no, one hundred... beyond count! That would be much worse for losing a mate..."
Ecthelion knew very well the guilt Glorfindel held towards Elenwë’s end and that Ecthelion shared in it as he had searched alongside him that day on the Helcaraxë. Glorfindel had been beside Turgon in his grief and he had seen it in the eyes of the widows of soldiers from his household who had fallen. Elrilya, too, felt the sting from the Kinslaying at Alqualondë by not having the power to save her parents.
“All I want from the both of you is to promise to be joyous and live strong for this one,” Ecthelion requested as he patted Túrelio’s back. “You both have not failed me, as you believe. If not for you, my loyalty to the people of Gondolin, and my own promise to myself to help Maeglin, I would have faded long ago.”
“Do not be sad, Ecthelion,” Túrelio finally spoke up as he raised his head to face the elf who held him. “No one plays the harp and flute better than you! Ada is not even as good. I would miss you if you were to leave here.”
Glorfindel could not hold back a laugh from his son’s extreme but simple honesty that only a child could deliver. Ecthelion managed a moment of raw emotion, his glowing smile of old pulled outward by the elf-child. Elrilya quietly moved to her friend and held him in her embrace. Ecthelion welcomed the succor she gave but Glorfindel saw his barely contained sadness return after the light-hearted moment had passed. There was little they could do for him, Ecthelion was truthful in that, and what was given kept him striving enough to live each day.
“Let us break bread for the evening,” Glorfindel broke the silence. “It has been too long since you joined us at our table.”
“Very well,” Ecthelion accepted. “I am certain Elrilya would not let me decline in any case.”
“That you have right,” she admitted and placed a sisterly kiss on Ecthelion’s cheek.
********
“Dear daughter, you are the light of my life and I could not be happier than I am at this moment seeing you take your vow to love someone for eternity,” Turgon said, standing tall on a platform above all who had gathered for the ceremony in the Gar Ainion. “I only wish your mother had been here to see how beautiful this moment is. I know she watches us from afar with all her love.”
“Thank you, Atar,” Idril replied.
The princess’ eyes shimmered with tears but she did not let them fall. Idril's free-flowing golden hair swept over her shoulders as she held her head high. Her white dress with golden trim sparkled with inlaid gems of many hues, threatening to shine brighter than the twilight in the sky above her. Tuor’s robes and tunic matched hers well and he had never looked as regal as he did standing in front of his bride and her father. He held back nothing upon his face and was gladdened to let the city see how much he loved Idril that very moment.
“To you, Tuor,” the king turned to the groom. "You have been like a son since your arrival and now you shall truly become one to me. I know you will always love and hold my daughter dear to you. Your sire, in our final parting, spoke prophetic words that from our houses a great hope would come and it has come to be this day. I know he, too, would be greatly proud of what you have accomplished."
Tuor bowed his head reverently to the king, "My eternal gratitude, my lord."
"Now, for the binding," Turgon continued. "The rings you shall now wear will forever signify your promise and love for all to see."
Túrelio, having waited patiently beside his mother, raised a small cushion he held as Elrilya took a ring lying upon it. Next, the dark-haired child walked to his father with practiced precision and made the motion again. Glorfindel gathered the small golden ring with the wings of a swan etched upon it and handed it to Tuor. Their eyes met for a moment and Glorfindel could feel the same joy that his friend had, his own smile widening. He glanced to Elrilya as she handed the matching ring to Idril, the two lifelong friends clasping hands tightly. Túrelio stepped beside his father to watch quietly now that his part was finished.
“We bless this union of souls in love so that they will become complete,” Elrilya and Glorfindel said together the ceremonial words of the parents as Idril and Tuor slid the rings over each other's fingers. “In Eru’s name we call upon the Valar to join us in a sanctifying this joining.”
“I send my voice to Varda Elentári Elbereth to bear witness this unification,” Elrilya said next.
“As I invoke Manwë Súlimo in witness to this harmonious accord,” Glorfindel continued.
"And I include our gratitude to Ulmo. If not for his love of us and his protection, then this union would not have come to be," Turgon added.
Above the gathered city, the stars brightened considerably and held their glow for a moment before returning to their typical light. Idril and Tuor had held their heads aloft to behold the blessing they received. They smiled gladly at one another and Tuor brought her closer as he bestowed a kiss upon her lips. The cheers of the city were near deafening as the ceremony was completed and the newlyweds turned to face them all.
"Let us feast and join our prince and princess in the revelry!" Turgon called out as he swept his arm outward to the tables and displays full of food and drink throughout the large square.
Leading Idril on his arm, Tuor kept her close as they shared words between one another while they descended into the well-wishers below. Turgon followed next, clapping a friendly hand on Glorfindel's shoulder as he walked past him. Glorfindel reached down and brought Túrelio into the crook of his arm and once the king had departed, Elrilya came toward Glorfindel and took his offered arm as they followed in the wake of the royal family. She rested her head upon her mate's shoulder and sighed happily.
"No other ceremony could have been as beautiful," Elrilya said as they walked toward the tables they would be joining Turgon at for the feast.
"Agreed and Túrelio here did so well in his assistance," Glorfindel said, heaping praise upon their son.
Túrelio giggled and hugged his arms around Glorfindel's neck tightly. They reached their destination and let Túrelio become comfortable in one of the chairs while they watched the ceremonial platform be transformed into a raised dance floor.
"I will see to getting plates of food for all of us," Elrilya offered and stepped away after placing a gentle kiss on Glorfindel's cheek.
Glorfindel squeezed her hand tightly then released it as he watched her walk away. He could not take his eyes off of her; her dark hair was unbound beneath the garland of yellow trefoils and the golden flower of his house adorned her brow that matched the hue of her dress and his robes. He only snapped from his observing when a goblet of drink suddenly appeared in front of him. Turning to the side, Glorfindel smiled at Ecthelion as he bowed his head in thanks and took the wine offered to him. His friend complimented him in their attire, the silver brocade-constructed vest and tunic was adorned with shining jewels while his light-blue cloak regally hung from his broad shoulders.
"A successful night," Ecthelion said and clinked his own goblet against Glorfindel's before taking a sip of his wine.
"Indeed," Glorfindel nodded and tasted his draught. "Will Maeglin be joining us? I did not see him after the ceremony concluded."
"Nay," Ecthelion answered. "He stood by but took leave after the heavenly acceptance. He had said something to me beforehand about completing his present for them and he would not listen to me when I assured him it could wait."
"He is missing quite the feast," Glorfindel pointed out. "And good wine."
"Turgon saw to it that we had the best vintage available," Ecthelion chuckled and saw Túrelio looking at him expectantly. "And none for you until you are older."
The little child made a small pout but he knew well enough that his father's friend was only teasing, "I think it smells funny. The mead's bubbles tickle my nose, though."
"He did not drink it either," Glorfindel laughed.
"I snuck a taste once when I was a little older than he," Ecthelion reminisced. "It was not that pleasing at the time."
Applause caught their attention as Idril and Tuor took their seats at a table centered and raised at one end of the square. The pair were beaming as they leaned close to one another and waved to those nearby. Plates heaped with food and goblets of wine were quickly placed in front of them. Flowers of all the hues of the rainbow showered upon the floorboards of the dais from those passing by giving their best to the newlyweds. Turgon soon joined them and raised his goblet for all gathered to lead a toast to his daughter and new son.
“I have never seen him this thrilled since Idril was born,” Glorfindel chuckled to Ecthelion as they both followed the king in raising their drinks.
“Perhaps we better keep him occupied or he may have us toasting and dancing the entire night,” Ecthelion replied.
“Indeed,” Glorfindel agreed then eyed a yawning Túrelio beside him. “Although, we may have a better excuse as to an early departure.”
“Eat then,” Ecthelion encouraged as Elrilya appeared with the meals for her family. “I will see to rescuing Idril and Tuor from Turgon’s speeches.”
As Ecthelion passed Elrilya, he gave her a friendly greeting and kiss to the cheek on his departure. She still was smiling from ear to ear from the night’s events when she joined Glorfindel’s side.
“You may stay for a while later through the night, if you wish,” she offered. “I can take Túrelio home once he is done.”
“Nay, I will stay with you,” Glorfindel said and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Tonight is the night to be by the side of the one whom you love.”
Glossary

Vestale - wedding
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