Flame of Gondolin, book 1: Love Story

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Early Spring of 510, FA

"No, Anná, you must set your pieces differently; here, let me show you."

Anárië fought very, very hard to keep her face smooth as Eärendil stood from his place across the low table, shifting to come to her side and adjust the pieces as he saw fit. She lifted her eyes to see Idril's sparkling with concealed laughter where she sat on a cushioned sofa near-by.

Ecthelion's daughter had agreed to come spend time with Idril and her son while Tuor conversed with the lords of the Golden Flower and the Fountain in Ecthelion's council chamber. It was not a great deal for her, considering how she enjoyed the boy's company, but she was quite amused by his eternal wish to prove he was already adept at tactics and spreading troops.

"See, you must place your open lands behind the castle line, so your garrisons may protect the people behind."

"Ah, but Gondolin's fields are all beyond the walls," she pointed out, rearranging her cards again swiftly, "one must always humble before his origins, my Prince. I am Gondolindrim, and am making a second Gondolin here."

Eärendil pursed his lips together as he studied the way she'd set it all now, and centered her troops behind the open lands.

"But would not Altatar have wished Gondolin to be as I have placed my cards?"

Anárië looked to the other end of the small table, acutely aware of Idril watching her every move, and the way Eärendil leaned against her shoulder as they inspected the way his troops were spread in front of his lifestock and homes.

"He would perhaps, if chance allowed," she admitted, thinking upon it for a moment, "and indeed, both strategies have their ups and their downs. Your troops have less room to fight, while mine can cover the fields between easily. However, should you cut my escape, you will have victory."

Young Eärendil pondered on that for a moment.

"The game shall certainly be more entertaining this way," he finally declared, and left to sit back down, focusing his eyes on the board again. Suddenly he looked up and beamed at his mother, "Ammë, will you watch?"

Idril lowered the shirt she'd been embroidering and gave her son a gentle smile.

"If it pleases you, although your Lord Father shall be rather cross if his shirt is not finished today."

"Atar can fix his own shirt if he so wishes," the boy exclaimed, pouting. Idril and Anárië both laughed softly, and the Princess moved, seating herself on a cushion to observe the game up close.

"Let us not test your Father's limits; rather, let us see yours, my son. Show me what you have learned so far."

Anárië smoothed a hand over the skirt of her cream gown, freeing another from the sleeve as she performed a last-moment rearrangement, before giving leave for the first move to Eärendil.

They were playing a game Idril herself had played, as well as other Eldar in Valinor, and it was something they had brought with them to Middle Earth, though in the Blessed realm there had been no need for troops. That was a change the Exiles had added after their first battles in the new land, for previously it was only prosperity they sought to teach their offspring.

In general, the game was fairly straight-forward: a large map was spread, and cards for land, castles, towers, people and various other aspects were distributed among players. Each started with the very basis for their kindgom, and of course a basic garrison to protect it, but they could expand over the game as they would in life, by conquering, negotiating, buying or stealing.

It was an interesting game, but also educational as it was through it that children first learned war-fare and tactics.

Anárië pulled her legs further underneath her as Eärendil made the obvious move of pushing scouts forward; with his lands behind his walls, he would need to spread his men out to gain more. To go easy on the boy, she made no response with warriors, but instead bought woods close-by.

"I was going for those!" the boy commented, pouting.

She heard Idril giggle softly; Anárië smiled: "I can see that, my Prince. But no one will wait for you. The forests are close to my own fields, and I am in need of wood."

Eärendil tapped his nose, obviously torn with a difficult decision. Anárië had a feeling she knew what it was.

"Little warrior, I am not your friend in this game," she said softly, "but, unless you parlay with me, your enemy. Therefore, your wisest choice would be to send a troup to claim the forest. It is not personal; just a game."

Reassured, Eärendil decided, and soon enough small figurines of horsemen were put in place. The game began for real.

The little boy was quite good, really; adept for tactics, and he learned fast. It took only small nudges from either Idril or Anárië to put him back on the right track, which was to conquer.

They were so engrossed with the game, which had progressed quite well through the two hours they remained seated there, that they did not hear or see anything beyond their world on the map.

They did not sense the presence of anyone else in the living area, but Tuor and Glorfindel had paused at the entrance, watching the scene before them with smiles on their faces. The Lord of the Wing leaned against the door frame, while the Lord of the Golden Flower crossed arms over his chest.

"I don't think they'll notice us unless we interrupt," Tuor commented cheerfully.

Glorfindel chuckled, "I think you're right – but for now, I am content to watch. It is a peaceful thing to behold. I am in need of it, after our conversation."

The mortal agreed; Ecthelion had not been in the best of moods when they had sat down in his reading room.

"I have sent my own warriors out among Duilin's scouts; I do not trust them. No, do not mistake me – I would trust Duilin with my life, and the life of my king. I do not, however, believe that all his men share his sense of loyalty. I have seen them bonding tight with the House of the Mole.

It will soon be treason to speak as I do now, but we all know Maeglin likes me not, no more than I like him. And the worst part of this all is that he would bring harm to his own kin to get his heart's desire."

Watching Idril shift closer to their son now, to help him in his moves against Anárië in the board game, Tuor could feel his jaw tighten, and his palms curl into fists. He had told Ecthelion what he thought about his theories:

"Maeglin will never touch Idril, not while I draw breath, neither will he harm our son. And if that is indeed his plan, then he shall be thwarted; I have staked my claim on the Princess, and if it is not yet obvious I have no intention of giving her up."

Tuor knew he would never forget the flash of Ecthelion's grey eyes as he said that; the Lord of the Fountain was not worried about Maeglin's intentions with Idril only, that much was clear. And Glorfindel knew that as well as the other.

"I do not like Maeglin's sudden attention towards my own daughter either, while we are discussing this: he has never taken note of her before, and yet on the very evening when you, Glorfindel, escort her publicly into the hall, he decides to dance with her. Idril does not think it innocent, while others might; I will never be caught saying against her judgement in the matters.

I have not enforced my will in this, as I believe Anárië can hold her own, and she has many on her side. But I will not tolerate it as calmly as you do with Idril, Tuor. My word will be final on the matter: I will not allow Maeglin close to my daughter."

Just then, Anárië burst out laughing, breaking through the stupor Glorfindel and Tuor had fallen into, reminising of their conversation with Ecthelion.

The elleth was shaking, her face hidden in her hands, while Idril had hidden her face in Eärendil's hair to refrain from the same loud exclamation as her friend had done. Eärendil had coloured, but was also laughing with them, obviously contrite over whatever he had done.

"Oh my Prince, I'm sorry," Anárië's voice floated to them finally, and they watched her shake her head as she peeked at the boy through her fingers, "but it was just too funny … please, repeat your moves and see for yourself what makes this so amusing!"

But the boy couldn't see what he had done wrong, so Idril and Anárië leaned forward to explain. The silver band on Anárië's right index finger tugged Glorfindel's lips up into a smile.

While her bold statement to Maeglin during the winter festivities had surprised him, it had also given him great pleasure. He did not know her long, true, but it felt like he did. He would oft find himself wondering what it would be like to wake up next to her, to have her run his house and not her father's.

Most of all, he wished to give her the desires of her heart.

It was obvious to most anyone that Anárië loved Glorfindel, and he her, but it was not so obvious that the Elf-lord was planning on teaching her more than the art of love. He was going to give her the greatest wish she had: teach her how to be a warrior. He knew that she still yearned for this, despite hiding it bravely, and he would never wish for anyone he cared for deeply to find grief in their days. It was not sadness as of yet, but if Anárië did not give in to her wishes, she would grow to resent those who had opposed her. That was something he could not let happen.

As the elleth shifted her golden hair back so she could see the map clearly, Glorfindel held his breath; their wedding would not come soon enough.

Ecthelion's daughter had no idea just how distracting she could be, or what a picture she presented when she walked into the room. Lately, it had gone beyond that, too. It was not just her walk: it was the way she spoke, the Vanyar accent to her words that brought so much home with it to him, the way she turned her head, fixed her hair, or absent-mindedly fiddled with her sleeves. He noticed so much, and so much more.

He had been absurdly pleased when she'd accepted the silver ring he'd given her, though he had known she would. It just added the touch to see her wear it openly.

Tuor had been patient enough, but he'd wriggled the betrothal story out of his friend with a very human trait: stubborness. While it was shared by his Eldar brethren, it was seldom shown in public. The man, however, had made it clear he would not stop until he found the truth.

Watching his betrothed fix some cards for the little Prince, Glorfindel smiled.

So innocent. Even now, watching her play with little Eärendil, he saw it in the way she moved her hands, or shifted on the floor. So pure, and yearning to see so much.

She had been enticingly beautiful when he'd murmured his vows for her, slipping the silver ring onto her finger, and Glorfindel knew he would not hear any sweeter words than her own vow in return until their wedding day.

"Atar!"

Eärendil call woke him from his thoughts, as the little boy had finally spied his father.

Tuor smiled and pushed away from the door to step into the room, catching his son fluidly as he came running. They both laughed, and Eärendil wrapped his arms around his father in innocent happiness, his face pressing into the man's shoulder, while Idril rose gracefully and crossed the room to lightly kiss her husband's lips.

"You are quick, my love – the Lord of the Fountain has been merciful I see."

Glorfindel laughed, and spoke before Tuor could: "Oh if only he could hear you now! Nay, lady Idril, I do not think he was merciful. He was, however, kind enough to let us leave when we grew weary. Whether he wished it or not is a different matter."

She rolled her eyes and made a swatting motion with her hand, but he side-stepped deftly; Anárië came to his side willingly, lacing her fingers through his and smiling up at him. Shyly, granted, but with a new aura of confidence surrounding her. She was becoming better at displaying affection as she grew used to the fact she was to be wed soon.

"Is Father in a bad mood? He has not played his flute in some time now …"

Ecthelion always played – except when his mind was elsewhere. Under her words, Glorfindel detected worry. He wondered if his friend knew just how shrewd his daughter was in observation.

His smile softened, "Not too much, I should think. He said he was going to rest by the fountains in his garden to wait for you. I do believe our presence wearied him."

Anárië chuckled and kissed his cheek swiftly – too fast for him to turn his head on time and kiss her properly. She could see the lightest signs of playful annoyance in his blue eyes, but she looked away.

"If our presence was so taxing to him he should not have called," Tuor commented, coming to Anárië's aid, as he placed Eärendil on the floor again, "but enough about that. I see you are playing. Are you finished?"

"Not quite," Anárië replied, looking to the map again, "but I will soon be without sufficient provision to uphold my forces. I am debating whether or not to simply yield. Your son is a mastermind, my lord."

Idril cleared her throat lightly, but Tuor knew what she said with that; Anárië had graciously given another win to the boy. It was fine for now, while he was too young to understand the meaning of loss, but Tuor knew he would have to speak with Ecthelion's daughter as Eärendil got older. It would do him well if he lost on an imaginative battlefield before suffering the same fate on a real one.

"Perhaps you could be persuaded to another game next?" he asked, as they all moved to sit around the low table, so Anárië and Eärendil could finish, "I have not played in a long time. You could, of course, have Glorfindel to help you."

Anárië hesitated, knowing Tuor to be one of the greatest warriors in Gondolin at this time. She stood no chance against him.

Idril's smile caught her attention.

"I think not, my love. I shall pair with Anárië – and you can keep lord Glorfindel."

The two men exchanged looks, then Glorfindel shrugged and switched places with Idril, who winked at Anárië.

Eärendil was keen on seeing that game so Anárië yielded and the board was cleared again, for the adults to play this time. The boy would simply watch and learn; when his father said so, Eärendil always obeyed, without the cheekiness he often showed his mother.

"My lady, what is your plan?" Anárië murmured in Idril's ear as she dealt the cards, her eyes watching the two lords conversing softly.

"They will wish to be gracious and let us win," the Princess responded in the same tone of voice, "but after a few moves they will realise they must play with all their skill. We are both our fathers' daughters, Anárië: let us show them such."

The two golden-haired ellith smiled at each other, and that smile gave both Glorfindel and Tuor good cause for alarm, though they were mostly amused by it all.

They played long into the afternoon, with the two women proving to be more than an even match for their men. Idril's way of placing land and putting the people to work was astounding, while Anárië kept tight control over her battle tactics. Glorfindel was hard-pressed to match her vicious assault of heavy lancers.

The afternoon shadows were lengthening, and still they played, when Ecthelion came to seek his daughter out. His mood was instantly uplifted when he saw her deftly out-maneouver Tuor and slip behind his archers to catch him between two of her regiments.

"That was a young boy's mistake, my lord."

Tuor gave a chagrined smile, though his focus was on the game fully now; Eärendil ran to Ecthelion and settled by him to watch as the ladies suddenly lost some land to Glorfindel's troops. Ecthelion had a feeling it was only because they wished to, and after a few more moves, he could already see the shades of his daughter's plan, while it was obvious the two lords could not. He remained wisely silent, watching as both Glorfindel and Tuor failed to see a crucial garrison that had somehow went unchallenged as they moved in.

"I believe, my lords," Idril suddenly said in a clear voice, "that you have gotten yourselves killed."

Ecthelion could see the smugness on her face as Anárië opened the cards for the final garrison, effectively trapping Tuor's troops without giving him so much as an inch of open ground. Glorfindel fared no better.

"Perhaps it is best no one else is here to see this," Ecthelion commented as both lords conceded defeat.

"Most definitely," Glorfindel agreed, and his eyes found Anárië's. She was barely holding back laughter.

"One thing is certain: I am very lucky to be marrying your daughter, Ecthelion. At least that way I know she won't be the one I face on a battlefield!"

As his daughter laughed, Ecthelion couldn't help but follow.


Atar - father, Quenya
Ammë - mother, Quenya
Altatar - grandfather, Quenya