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
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Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my own characters, everything belongs to Tolkien the genius. I make nothing financially from this written venture.

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Eärendil
“You are off your mark today,” Glorfindel commented after watching an arrow stray to the outer edge of a target.
“I have a lot on my mind,” Tuor said as he reached in his quiver for another arrow and side-glanced at his friend. “Besides, I need to practice my archery. It has been far too long since I had a chance to use my bow, even on patrol.”
Glorfindel smirked as he prepared his own bow. The summer sun above them was warm and inviting as they practiced in the fields outside of the city walls.
“Perhaps I should request to send you out with more frequency to hone your skills again.”
“Idril would have a few choice words,” Tuor laughed as he focused his stance and gaze. “Last thing we need is a repeating of Túrelio’s birth with my own child. You would have the delight of traversing the mountains in search of me for having sent me in the first place.”
Glorfindel sighed to himself, had he not been in a similar state when Túrelio’s impending birth weighed heavy on his mind? It had been over a year since the nuptials of Tuor and Idril beneath the stars; yet, they had already decided to start their family. Well into the season of the following autumn, the couple had announced they were expecting and the spreading of the news overwhelmed that of when they proclaimed their plan to marry. Turgon had the bells of the towers ringing for much of the day afterwards, no one could begrudge the king’s excitement for a grandchild and heir.
“Elrilya said that she and the midwives have seen no signs for worry,” Glorfindel replied as Tuor’s next attempt was dead center.
“Aye, there are none,” Tuor said as he lowered his bow and turned his gaze to the elf. “However, the healers and midwives also have not seen a pregnancy and birth of man and elf before.”
“Some of the experienced healers have taken part in births of the Edain when they traveled the lands near Vinyamar and encountered some of the tribes of the northern lands,” Glorfindel explained and took his aim with his arrow. “From what I know, it is not all too different.”
“True, but the women of my people carry their children differently than the Eldar,” Tuor countered. “The midwives have said Idril’s progress is certainly further along than typical. It could be any day now rather than another month or two.”
Glorfindel loosed his arrow and hit his mark then moved his stance to aim at another target further away, “Knowing such, are you prepared enough for a babe to arrive soonest?”
“We hardly have had time to gather what we need,” the man shook his head. “Everyone else, in particular you wife and a certain grandsire, have taken it upon themselves to prepare my house.”
“Did Elrilya bring over the things I had stored away?” Glorfindel queried as he carefully positioned his weapon.
“Nay,” Tuor said and paused with a smile. “She wants to keep them for your next child.”
Glorfindel felt his grip slide and his arrow flew into the bushes and grass. He glared at his friend who then burst into laughter. Glorfindel shook his head and left Tuor, bent over holding his midsection, as he went to retrieve his lost arrow.
* * * * * * *
A soft fluttering of feathers followed by the caw of a raven reached Glorfindel’s ears and slumbering mind. He turned over in bed to see Elrilya rising from the mattress to fetch a raven that had landed on the windowsill. She opened the glass pane and took an attached note from its leg. She read it quickly then came to Glorfindel’s side to kiss his cheek.
“Idril has begun her pains,” she whispered. “The healers sent the raven as to not wake everyone in the house at this early hour. There is no need for you to get up, it may not happen for a while.”
Glorfindel nodded sleepily and rolled back over in bed. He managed to slip away to his dreams again for a while. When he awoke a few hours later, the plodding of feet on stone was what forced him up. Peeking over his pillow, he espied a tousled head of dark hair and blue eyes staring at him. Váremo also stood by next to Túrelio, his tail wagging expectantly.
“Mara tuilë,” Glorfindel yawned and sat up in bed.
“Where is Naneth?” Túrelio asked.
Glorfindel picked up Túrelio and sat him on the bed next to him and hugged him close, “Idril is having her baby soon. Naneth went to help her just as Idril did for her when you were born.”
“When can I meet the baby?” Túrelio asked.
“Soon hopefully,” Glorfindel chuckled. “Do you want to see Híthtán today? It may be more exciting for you to visit him than coming with me to keep Tuor busy while we wait.”
Túrelio nodded his head vigorously with a wide smile and jumped off the bed to run out the door. He was always happy at the chance to be with his close friend. Váremo still waited patiently next to Glorfindel and gave him what could only be a lazy dog smile with his tongue hanging out. Rising from the bed, the elf scratched his hound’s head between the ears and led him out to the hallway.
“Come, we all need some breakfast before we start the day.”
* * * * * * *
The morning meal had passed with no word to Glorfindel; thus, he set about the usual routine of helping Túrelio dress and prepare for his visit with his good friend. Upon arriving at Thálgwen’s doorstep, the lady of the house knew well what was afoot but did well in holding back her enthusiasm that many in the city shared in anticipation. Istuidír was out on his turn of patrolling the mountain borders so Híthtán was gladdened to have Túrelio join him, as his sister and mother oft would involve him in chores and their stitchwork. The last Glorfindel saw of the boys were their blurred images running towards the Lesser Market with Váremo in close pursuit.
Bidding his farewells to Thálgwen and Gaelseld, Glorfindel traversed the main street that would lead him to the south of the city where Tuor and Idril dwelt. Nothing seemed amiss when he arrived, the news had not spread to the city yet as he was certain many well-wishers would be waiting outside if that were the case. Rapping his knuckles on the door, Glorfindel was surprised to find Voronwë greeting him. The seafarer, who had brought Tuor to Gondolin years before, had remained a trusted companion to the young man.
“My lord,” the elf smiled and opened the door wider to let Glorfindel inside. “Tuor will be heartened to see you.”
“Is there something wrong?” he queried.
“Nay,” Voronwë replied then nodded his head slightly, trying not to be conspicuous and lowered his voice. “Our liege the High King has been here since dawn.”
Smirking, Glorfindel nodded with understanding before wandering further into the house to find his two friends. Turgon was a patient and disciplined leader, but when it came to the matters of his family, he sometime would be anxiously troublesome. Glorfindel recalled when Idril was born and how Turgon had paced the hallways for hours on end, questioning any midwife or birthing assistant who mistakenly crossed his path.
It was quite the same scene that late morning when Glorfindel peered from the foyer to the parlor. Turgon appeared to be studying the artwork and decorations adorning the walls, yet his eyes betrayed his distant thoughts on another subject entirely. Tuor was staring out a window while leaning his palms upon the sill, his shoulders hunched and tense. Turgon did not register Glorfindel’s arrival, but Tuor did and was close enough to greet him swiftly.
“My thanks for coming,” Tuor whispered as they embraced in a brotherly welcome. “Earlier would perhaps have saved me some anguish. He will not let me be to see how Idril is doing. Everytime I try to go upstairs, he is on my tail.”
“I will see to some distraction,” Glorfindel winked at him and strode purposefully into the room. “Turgon! How goes it? What news is there?”
Before Turgon would notice, Tuor slipped behind Glorfindel and out of the room. The king smiled broadly and clasped arms with the golden-haired lord. Glorfindel realized that assuming Turgon was anxious was incredibly generous, he was practically jittery.
“The last I heard was that everything is progressing well,” Turgon answered a little flustered. “The midwife’s apprentice keeps banishing me to this room.”
“Idril is fine in their hands,” Glorfindel assured him. “Besides, Elrilya is by her side.”
“That is true,” Turgon acknowledged. “This wait is near unbearable.”
“Come with me to the kitchen, let us make an early toast to the the new child,” Glorfindel gently offered and led Turgon to the next doorway.
Finding an uncorked bottle already present, Glorfindel assumed Voronwë and Tuor had already had their share - especially for the young husband to ease his nerves stretched thin by the King being present in his house. Pouring the red liquid into two goblets, Glorfindel offered his friend one and claimed the other for himself.
“To our children and theirs,” Glorfindel said.
“And to new hope,” Turgon smiled and quickly downed his draught. “Speaking of our children, how is that son of yours?”
“I swear he grows every day,” Glorfindel chuckled. “He is quite independent already, much to Elrilya’s dismay. She now misses the little one she was able to cuddle without a struggle.”
“Some days I wonder to myself,” Turgon began and moved towards one of the windows that looked to the street outside. “I remember the days when we were young like him and how we believed we ruled Tirion in our adventures through the alleys and narrow passages. Now look at us... did you ever envision us in such a place?”
“I did not,” Glorfindel said as he joined his friend at the glass pane to watch the people wandering by on their errands. “I had ideas and expectations, but I was caught wholly unawares of the adventures that would find us.”
“No regrets then?” Turgon questioned, his thoughts taking him somewhere distant again.
Glorfindel shook his head, “None.”
“Oft I contemplate my fate here and my purpose,” Turgon said as he brought his gaze to Glorfindel. “Due to my choices I have brought doom to others, namely my beloved. Yet, also because of them there has been great happiness for many as well. Tuor and Idril are meant for one another in Vairë’s great tapestry, I see that deep love and strength of joined spirits in them. Forever she may have languished never knowing he who would bring her joy.”
“I have come to think of the same thoughts for my own fate,” Glorfindel confessed. “I want no other life to live.”
“That is something we can toast,” Turgon chuckled and raised his goblet.
“Much more as well,” Elrilya announced as she entered the room with a tired smile. “You have a grandson, Ontáro.”
In mere seconds, Turgon enveloped his foster-daughter. She returned the gesture and peered over his tall shoulder at Glorfindel in a silent greeting to her mate.
“When can I see him?” Turgon asked as he released Elrilya.
“Tuor will bring him shortly,” she answered as the king wandered into the adjoining room to await the new arrival.
“All is well, I take it?” Glorfindel inquired as he brought Elriyla to his own arms.
“One of the easiest the midwives have had to oversee,” she said and placed a kiss on his lips. “He is a beautiful little prince.”
* * * * * *
“We thank Eru, the all knowing, and the Valar for this gift of life,” Turgon announced as he raised his grandson, swaddled snugly in his blanket, to the twilight above and for all to see in the Square of the King. “We welcome you, Prince Eärendil.”
As was expected, the night to announce the naming of the new prince was met with great excitement in the city - even more so than when his parents’ wed little but a year earlier. The stars dazzled the sky above his tiny head when Turgon held him aloft and, despite the cheering of those around him, the tiny babe opened his bright blue eyes for a moment before returning to his slumber. Taking him in a fatherly embrace, Turgon held him close again with immense pride before handing Eärendil back to Idril beside him. The new parents were not intending to stay long, as the child and Idril needed their rest; although, they had partaken in the prior festivities for a while. The people of Gondolin would continue to celebrate through the night.
Glorfindel and Elrilya stood nearby with Túrelio at hand along with the other captains of the great houses of Gondolin. Glancing down, Glorfindel could see the wide-eyes of his son watching every detail in front of him. The array of colors, banners, and sigils had raised Túrelio’s curiosity and he was awed by the presentation for the new son of Gondolin. The wedding of Idril and Tuor had been of a different sort of display without the leaders holding their places and he had yet to see them all in one place before with such formality. At one point, Túrelio had even reached out to touch Ecthelion’s lavishly embroidered cloak, being that he stood alongside them. The dark-haired elf gave a quick wink and smirk after the young elfling peered up at him. Glorfindel was certain he would be hearing earnest questions in the days following.
Elrilya embraced her friend gently as Idril approached then placed a soft kiss upon the brow of Eärendil’s pale head. Tuor clasped hands then shared a friendly embrace with Glorfindel before they moved down the line of assembled households. After they had passed the great and lesser houses, more cheers erupted to send off the family and the ceremonial formation quickly dispersed. Music rose up from the square with melodious voices joining in praise.
“If only he were old enough to enjoy it,” Turgon sighed to Glorfindel as he followed in the wake of his daughter’s family.
“Perhaps there will be more in the years to come for him to do so,” the golden-haired elf chuckled then motioned towards Túrelio. “This one certainly is.”
“Túrelio, would you like to join me?” Turgon asked then glanced askew at Ecthelion. “It appears my right-hand is absent this night and I could use a councilor beside me.”
“Absolutely!” the elfling exclaimed with pure joy then quickly toned down his outburst; however, Glorfindel could see his son was fidgeting with barely restrained eagerness. “I mean... yes, your grace.”
Elrilya nodded her approval to her son and he practically bounced next to Turgon as the king led him to the dais where he would oversee the festival. His throne chair stood large and extravagant with his banner draped over the back of it while another, smaller chair was alongside it with Maeglin’s emblem. The King removed the banner on the smaller chair as they approached and tossed it aside while Túrelio clamored onto the cushioned seat.
Elrilya was the first to break the awkward silence Turgon had left the threesome in upon his departure. She glanced to Ecthelion carefully who had a slight grimace upon his face as he watched the king.
“Where is Lord Maeglin on this jubilant day?” she queried.
Ecthelion shrugged and let out an exasperated breath, “I have no idea and neither does anyone from his forges or barracks.”
“That is unlike him,” Glorfindel commented.
“Agreed,” Ecthelion answered. “The day after Eärendil’s birth, he departed the city. He told some of the smithies he would be with the miners in search of new gem deposits; however, he apparently went alone and ordered his guard to remain behind. Turgon had ordered my patrols out looking for him the last week without a trace. He must have sought out new highgrades rather than the established stopes.”
“I can imagine Turgon is not thrilled that his nephew did not show for such an important occasion,” Elrilya shook her head.
“Yet, I am the one who bore the brunt of his anger,” Ecthelion grimaced. “Maeglin will hear it from the both of us once he reappears.”
“No more of this distressing talk,” Elrilya took Ecthelion’s hand. “I do believe we should be enjoying ourselves and it has been a long time since you have shared a dance with me, Lord of the Fountain.”
“True is your accusation,” Ecthelion smiled and glanced at Glorfindel. “That is, if your lord permits it.”
“Verily,” Glorfindel bowed with emphasis and an outstretched hand. “Be certain to return her by the break of the morn.”
As Glorfindel turned on his heel and made fast for the casks of wine nearby, Ecthelion turned to Elrilya, “You truly do not intend to dance throughout the night, do you?”
“Oh, perhaps,” she teased as he led her to a nearby dancefloor. “I have had little chance to do so in such a long time.”
“It would be a decent excuse as to why I cannot go out on patrol this following week,” the dark-haired elf postulated as he brought Elrilya into his hold for the current dance taking place. “However, I would never hear the end of it from my comrades at arms.”
“You will be leaving again soonest?” Elrilya asked as he began their steps.
“Aye, such is the need these days with the increased patrols,” he sighed.
“Yet Glorfindel does not go nearly as much as you,” she pointed out as he spun her around.
“He has more obligations than I,” Ecthelion replied. “I gladly will take longer assignments at the gate and in the hills as I have that freedom.”
“As long as you are not exhausting yourself,” she said with concern as they moved to a contra then back together.
“Since we last spoke of my well-being, I have taken your worries to heart,” he assured her as he raised her into the air and back down in front of him. “I am trying.”
As the song came to a close, Elrilya rested her head on the shoulder of her long-time confidant and friend, “I am glad for that.”
“Shall we continue with another?” Ecthelion offered as the musicians began a prelude . “This one is more up-tempo.”
“Of course,” she grinned as he swept her across the floor.
Glossary

Mara tuilë - good morning

Ontáro - father
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Eternal