~Aerneth does something she will bitterly regret...~

oOo

Glorfindel by Magali Villeneuve

Glorfindel of Gondolin

Mercifully, Aerneth did not have to experience much of what happened when Fingon's host and the orcs clashed together, for after only a few chaotic images Fingon must have accidentally emptied the bowl. But what little she did see of those horribly distorted faces was enough to make her nearly sick with a mingle of fright and disgust.

In her head, she kept picturing such monsters forcing themselves on ellith, like she had seen in Galadriel's mirror – only, in the mirror their faces had been vague, but now she could envision them in all gory detail.

When a male voice unexpectedly called up to her, she was relieved to get something else to think about. He had spoken Quenya, the language of the Noldor, but when he saw her peering out through the battlements he switched into Sindarin, the common speech: "Hello? Anyone else there?"

She saw two unusually handsome ellyn below, one golden blonde and one dark.

"Only me. Who are you?"

"I am Glorfindel of Gondolin." The fair one greeted her in the customary way with his hand over his heart.

"And I am Ecthelion. We are with King Turgon."

"He did not follow Fingon to the battle then?"

"Nay, our king decided our people should guard the Pass in case there was a trap," said Glorfindel. "Morgoth may have more orcs up his sleeve."

"That would be crowded," remarked Ecthelion.

"I meant it figuratively." Glorfindel apparently lacked humour. "Can we come in? Our king sent us here to gather information on how his brother fares, and it will be easier to see from up there."

"Of course."

Aerneth went downstairs and unbolted the gate, letting them inside. This close, Glorfindel was even more good looking than she had first thought, almost on a par with Thranduil. He wore a mantle in the same colour as his hair over a long chainmail shirt, a sheathed sword and a shield with a yellow sun. As his gaze trailed over her with equal curiosity she felt a flutter within. She pushed it down firmly, this was not a good time to be attracted to a stranger, she had been separated from her husband too long, that was all.

Instead she led him and Ecthelion up the stairs and out on the parapet.

Glorfindel shadowed his eyes as he peered through the battlements. His hand was large and looked strong.

"I had hoped to see the combat better," he said after a while, sounding disappointed. "Everything is covered by that infernal desert dust."

"Maybe if you wait a while, Fingon will reopen the connection. Assuming he survives." She showed them the bowl and explained her water powers.

The ellyn were very interested in her gift.

"Distance communication? That is a useful talent indeed!" said Glorfindel, giving her an admiring look that made her stomach flip.

"Are you hungry? Shall I bring something?" She was suddenly eager to get away from the confined space.

The others nodded gratefully and she went to fetch some lembas and dried fruit in the storage room. She glanced at a wine amphora but decided against it, she needed a clear head when Fingon reconnected with her.

The sun had disappeared behind the western mountains and the parapet was dark when she returned, making the hour feel later than it was. Out in the desert the battle still went on but had moved further away. Did that mean Fingon's host was winning?

They shared the food among them in the twilight, not daring to light the lantern in case there were enemies nearby.

The ellyn made very pleasant company despite being Noldor. Without them, Aerneth would probably have been both frightened and lonely when the hours went by without Fingon calling, but now she almost forgot the time as she listened to their friendly banter. Ecthelion was clearly the brightest of them, witty and talkative, reminding her very much of Amroth back in Doriath. Glorfindel was more of the strong, silent type which she really preferred, and there were moments when he was so like her husband she had to avert her gaze.

Soon they had an interesting conversation going about Gondolin, that exciting city which had been kept secret for so long. The ellyn would not reveal its exact location as Turgon wanted it to remain safely hidden, but described what it looked like with such fondness that Aerneth felt herself longing to go there too. And not only because of the looks Glorfindel gave her. Did he not mind that she was married?

After a while Ecthelion took out a flute and entertained them with sweet music. Aerneth rested her back against the battlements beside Glorfindel, not quite touching him but sitting so close she felt his body heat. Being near another elf was comforting and made her feel safe, but also terribly guilty. Her eyes kept being drawn to his linen shirt under the chainmail, slightly open in the front, and every now and then she would perceive a whiff of his scent, a mixture of metallic armour, masculine musk and something flowery from his hair oil. He was not Thranduil, but close enough for her treacherous body to react like he were.

She loathed herself for having such inappropriate emotions in the middle of a war, when her father and friends might even now be killed by orcs – even if he had been her husband it would have been disgusting. But her brain would not listen to reason.

Well into the night Aerneth finally felt Fingon think her name, and she hurried to reopen the connection. It was hard to see his face in the darkness, especially since he seemed to be coated by a fine layer of dust, but it looked like he was still on horseback.

"We have defeated most of the orcs with hardly any losses, and the rest of them are falling back towards Angband. We are pursuing them now. Any news from Maedhros?"

"Nay, nothing. But I have two lords of Turgon's people here with me." She moved back so Glorfindel and Ecthelion could take over. Fingon clearly knew them well, and soon they talked animatedly about what sounded like common acquaintances and a shorter version of the history of Gondolin – since they spoke Quenya Aerneth understood only in part.

While they conversed, Aerneth again thought of her father and friends; Galadriel, Galdor, Celeborn. Were they among the 'hardly any losses' or had they made it? Before Fingon closed the connection for a few hours' rest she took the opportunity to ask him, and learned that her friends were still alive and unhurt. Of that worry, at least, she was relieved.

When the sky became rose-tinted in the east, the two Gondolindrim decided they had been away long enough. It was time to bring their news to Turgon.

"Must you go?" Aerneth said, suddenly frightened to be left alone.

"Maybe I can stay with her, and you go to our king?" Glorfindel suggested. Ecthelion gave him an odd look but then shrugged.

"Sure."

Glorfindel sat down next to Aerneth again, closer now. His arm felt burning hot against her own. What was he doing? What was she doing? Had she encouraged him with her glances? It was because he reminded her so much of Thranduil, but now her guilt increased tenfold.

"Try to get some rest," he said. "I will keep watch."

She nodded and tried to relax, but it was impossible. Restless thoughts tumbled around in her head like broken butterflies; worries for the future, remorse about the past.

She was a horrible wife who had abandoned her husband, and now at first opportunity she flirted with another ellon. The war would not go well either, somehow she knew it would not. The forebodings she and her friends had seen would come to pass.

Tomorrow or the day after, Fingon would reach Angband, and still the greater part of the host had not come; Maedhros and his allies.

In the last war, the Dark Lord had had both a dragon and balrogs – his fearsome fire demons. It was obvious he still had many more monsters to send against them. What if this whole maneuver with the orcs and the killing of Gwindor's brother was his way to lure the eastern host out into the desert? If so, Aerneth would probably never see her father and friends again.

What would become of her then? She could not return to Doriath unless Oropher decided to forgive her, which was not likely, and in Eglarest her mother would be broken with grief. And Thranduil... since she left, he had not tried to contact her even once.

Did he care about her at all? He had never said he loved her, but she had thought... hoped that he did, deep down. That underneath the emotionless face he showed the world, there were still some genuine feelings. But now... Far away in this Valarforsaken place she felt doubt. What if his mother's death had taken away his ability to love?

A sharp pang of longing hit her, an almost tangible pain, like an arrow to her heart. She wanted Thranduil's arms around her and his body close – not in a sexual way, not this time, she just wanted to hear him breathe and smell his familiar scent.

She was lost, a wanderer gone astray. She needed him. Only with him she felt at home.

"Is something ailing you, my lady?" Glorfindel's voice was soft, and somehow she found herself leaning against his shoulder.

"I worry about the war... my friends, and my ada," she said, not wanting to talk about Thranduil when almost in another ellon's arms.

"I understand," he said kindly, and now his arms really were around her, his fingers stroking her back soothingly. He touched her cheek, turning her face up to meet his gaze. His eyes were large and dark.

She saw what he was about to do but did not stop him when he bent down and kissed her. Just a peck on the lips, but she let him do it, and when he deepened it she responded.

The Valar damn her! Every particle in her body screamed at her how wrong this was.

At last she managed to murmur feebly: "Nay..."

"Sorry," he said and instantly broke the kiss. "I should not have been so hasty with a maiden I only met yesterday. But I feel like I have known you longer."

Maiden? Did he think–

"These are troubled times and I may not live to see another day. I shall take this memory with me and cherish it. Perhaps, if we win the war–"

"I am no maiden," she blurted out.

"What?" His eyes widened.

"Surely you can see... Surely you knew that–" She stared at him but read only puzzlement in his honest eyes. Then his features changed. Surprise, shock... disappointment.

He hastily rose, pushing her away as if he had burned himself. "You are married?"

"I thought you knew," she whispered.

He shook his head vigorously. "You think I am the kind of ellon who would kiss a married elleth? I was never good at perceiving such things. How could you let me do it?" His voice was accusing.

"I... I don't know."

"I must go."

She could hear him running down the stairs like chased by wargs. When he was gone Aerneth buried her face into her hands and wept bitterly.

oOo

Aerneth received a new visit the next day. When she heard the knock she jumped with fright, fearing it was Glorfindel coming back to lash out at her for tricking him. Instead another ellon stood outside, looking so much like Fingon that she in her confused and distressed state of mind almost thought it was him.

The ellon was Turgon, the king of Gondolin, coming to speak with his brother for the first time in several hundred years.

The brothers' reunion via the water call was hearty and they talked for a long time. When Turgon finally left the bowl his eyes were red with unshed tears and Aerneth respectfully turned away until he had composed himself.

"Thank you for this, my lady," he said at last. "I shall keep guarding the Pass of Sirion while my brother heads onwards to Angband. I leave two elves here with you to keep me informed on how he fares. In addition, can you establish a new connection with one of my scouts? I am sending him to find out what happened to Maedhros."

Aerneth readily agreed, not at all minding to handle two bowls again; the increased strain would keep her mind busy. She did not want to think.

She was also thankful for the ellon and elleth the king left with her, both for keeping her company and for not being Glorfindel. She hoped she would never meet him again so this horrible mistake could be buried and forgotten.

oOo

Two days later, after riding hard along the Dorthonion mountains, Turgon's scout reported he could finally see Maedhros' host. The troops still lingered north of the Pass of Aglon in the outskirts of the desert, and as far as the runner could tell they seemed unhurt. He saw no particular reason for their remaining behind.

Aerneth passed the information on to Fingon, who had just arrived at Thangorodrim, the three volcanic peaks that guarded the entrance to Angband. He had not been able to catch up with Gwindor and his followers, who had ridden day and night in their murderous rage and were already pounding on the black gates.

It worried Fingon greatly to hear that Maedhros lingered. "Has he deceived us?" he mused. But soon he got something else to think about. "Tulkas help us!" he exclaimed.

Aerneth felt a trickle of chill when she saw the king's pale face. "What happened?" If he invoced the Vala of war there must be something gone terribly wrong.

"Gwindor's company has disappeared through the gates but more orcs are pouring down from the cliffs and out from caves in the volcanoes... I have never seen so many. They are cutting us off from the others. I must go, but I shall try to keep the connection up as long as possible."

With that he charged against the orcs, and soon the bowl was flooded with chaotic battle images. Aerneth tried not to look, all the blood and cut off body parts made her sick, but she could not shut out the sounds. The shrill shrieks of agony from the most grievously injured were the worst.

"I shall bring word to my king of this new threat," said the elleth Turgon had left with her. "I think we must march now, this does not look good." She indicated the turbulent images in the bowl.

While the fight went on outside Morgoth's black gates, Turgon's scout arrived at the eastern host and was taken to see their leader. Maedhros was just appearing in her second bowl when Aerneth felt another presence in the back of her mind, a warm, red glow she instantly recognised. It was Thranduil. Of all possible moments, he had chosen this chaotic day to finally reach out to her – but of course he could not know how hard-pressed she was.

Even if she had not been busy, Aerneth was not ready to face him just yet, and thus it was with some relief she shut him off. Instead she focused on the eldest son of Fëanor before her, regarding the famous ellon with curiosity. His hair colour was striking, it had an auburn hue she had never seen the like of before, and his face was angular with a slightly too big nose. He looked grim, and knowing some of his history it was not hard to understand why.

"I heard that my cousin has already reached the gates of Angband," he said. "Loath though I am to admit it, I realise now that I have been deceived by my own men. I had human scouts sent west to watch the Pass of Sirion, and they reported back to me that Fingon had been delayed by assaults from hidden Angband forces. To no avail have I remained here, waiting for word of his arrival. I know not if the mortals were mistaken or wilfully duped me – but they shall be punished, for sure."

"How unfortunate. Fingon is even now battling a large host of orcs, and I do not know how he fares, but Turgon has come forth from the hidden city with a great number of elves so maybe all is not lost."

"Good news indeed." Maedhros brightened. "I shall march north at once, and hopefully between the three of us, Fingon, Turgon and I can still succeed."

Now Fingon appeared in the first bowl, his face dirty and a sprinkle of red drops scattered over his chainmail. "Was that Maedhros you spoke with? Tell him he must hurry, we are hard-pressed. The Brethil humans have all been slaughtered, and I fear the same goes for the elves of Nargothrond. The rest of us are falling back into the desert now."

Aerneth did as told, conveying Fingon's message and then Maedhros' reply, becoming a facilitator for a tactical conference between the cousins. Although the bowls were placed side by side, the ellyn could not hear each other or communicate directly.

During their conversation she glanced at Maedhros' stump of a hand and shuddered at the thought of how that had come to be. Caught by Morgoth, he had hung from his right arm for three decades, shackled by his wrist to one of the peaks of Thangorodrim. Fingon had valiantly braved the Lord of Dark and gone there alone, finally spotting his cousin in his plight. Maedhros' had begged Fingon to end his misery with an arrow to the heart, but instead he had called upon the Great Eagles to help him and been able to rescue Maedhros by cutting off his hand.

No wonder the ellon wanted his revenge on Morgoth. It was not only his oath to his father – the promise to retrieve the Silmarils – that drove him on. This was personal.

After the ellyn had ended their talk, the hours passed slowly. Turgon had begun his march, taking his messenger with him and leaving Aerneth alone, and he had brought a water bowl to communicate with the other leaders through her magic. Again she was forced to maintain three simultaneous connections and the exertion made her so weak she could barely hold her eyes open.

Thranduil tried to contact her several times, leaving her with a nauseating pang of guilt. She could not avoid him forever; soon the battle would be over and she had no excuse to shut him out. What would she do then? Admit to what she had done or try to hide it? She was not sure she could manage the latter, but the thought of doing the former frightened her. Thranduil had a horrible temper, although he controlled it better than his father. Yet, did she not deserve his wrath? Should he turn her away and never want to see her again, it would be a justified punishment.

But who was she fooling? He already had turned her away, or at least his father had – without him protesting. Maybe the easiest solution was to return to the Falas with her own father after the war. Keeping her distance to Thranduil until long enough time had passed for her to be able to conceal her infidelity.

❈ ❦ ❈

A/N:

According to Tolkien's "Laws and Customs of the Eldar" elves can see on other elves whether they are married or not, but in my headcanon it's not equally easy for everyone. And I figure a warrior like Glorfindel could be one of those who aren't very good at reading people. 

Image Credits:

Glorfindel by Magali Villeneuve, http://www.magali-villeneuve.com/