Flame of Gondolin, book 1: Love Story

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Early Summer of 510, FA
Tarnin Austa

As the silence stretched, and Arien's vessel started its journey West, Anárië could feel the array of butterflies that had been with her since she'd woken the previous day flutter anxiously around her stomach.

That morning, she'd been woken by her father, something that hadn't occured since her first monthly blood.

Ecthelion had smiled, she remembered fondly, and asked if he could take her with him on a ride. She needed nothing more than her riding clothes; he would wait for her with Gwaiforn.

And he had been true to his word: Gwaiforn and his own horse, the fierce stallion Naragar, stood waiting just outside the fine dew sprinkling from the main fountain in the courtyard.

Her father had been silent as they rode to the Great Gate; and while Anárië had anticipated he would take her further, perhaps out onto Tumladen, he did not. Instead, he had her dismount and they climbed the steps that lead them to stand directly above the gate, with a clear view of all the levels underneath them, the fields beyond, and the mountains in the distance.

It had been breathtakingly beautiful. usually, on the walls, she could not see the six levels that rose to meet the final seven, but the Great Gate had been constructed at a point that the vision of those upon it would be hindered by nothing.

"This is where I come each day," she heard her father's voice echo from her memory, his face a stoic mask that morning, "this is the final line of defense, should we ever need it, before anyone may reach the King and his own. And my men would give their lives long before they would allow that to happen."

She had not understood then, but she guessed it had something to do with the serious set of his face lately, with the way her own betrothed seemed to be distant and thinking of other things.

"Glorfindel will make you a fine husband, Anárië, I've no doubt of that. Neither should you, for he loves you dearly. He is, however, a warrior, more so than myself. I thought I should remind you of that."

Why? She did not understand, she understood little of either men nowadays, and even Egalmoth was silent on the matter. Lalaith knew little of what ailed her husband, and if the Princess knew anything she would not say.

"I wish your mother could see you now, my little ray of sunshine; she would cry with happiness. Today, you become of the Golden Flower, moving from the spring farther into the meadow.

I have a gift for you."

And he had given her an intricate hair pin, looking so fragile that she had feared it would break upon the slightest touch, but her father had assured her that it would not. There was a golden rose upon it, sprinkled, as if with dew, with small diamonds.

"Your mother wore this on many occassions. Your grandfather gave it to her. I know she would have wished for you to have it."

With a light smile she thought of the same pin that now rested among the waves of her hair, holding a section out of her face. Of course she had worn it.

The rest of that day and the next had been spent in silent contemplation, and moving through her father's home to see whether she had stored and packed everything, to be moved and transferred to Glorfindel's house later on. Ecthelion remained home, and they spoke of many things, keeping each other company. Father and daughter, soon to be sundered by a man coming between them.

After the night vigil and the singing of the morning songs, her handmaidens drew her a bath, and Anárië allowed them to clean her. They trimmed her nails, combed her hair until it fell past her hips shimmering, scented her skin with the flavour of white roses. For most of the day she remained at her father's home.

Idril had come to help her into her dress; it was probably for the best, considering Anárië had never before seen anything quite so delicate and ornate at the same time. It was the Princess' gift to her best friend on her wedding day.

The gown was of the purest white, made of an airy fabric Anárië couldn't name, and feared would expose too much, but once in place it proved to be just the right weight to settle against her skin. The bodice fit tight, the deep vee in the front reaching towards her stomach, covered with a flimsy lace design woven with golden thread.

Her hair they had left unbound, only pulling a front strand aside and pinning it. The only other ornament she wore was a sapphire stone on a slender golden chain, a gift from Glorfindel.

She had left the house with her father then, to go to the King's square and participate in some of the activities before Glorfindel would lead her to Gar Ainion.

They stood together now, the Lord of the Golden Flower splendid in a white tunic with golden embroidery. For once, he had forgone his usual vambraces, leaving his arms bare except for the fabric that covered them. The cloak of celandines he had kept.

And on her other side stood her father, in blue and silver, a mantle of soft grey drapping around his shoulders. Anárië knew he was smiling without the need to look. He'd been smiling ever since they'd left the house, although she could detect sadness underneath the calm exterior. It pained her to know her leave-taking made him sad, but she was confident that he would be on the mend once he saw how happy she was with Glorfindel.

The sky darkened further, and a rippled movement went through the Gondolindrim: they were all waiting anxiously. Anárië well remembered the last festival in the previous year, when she had given Glorfindel that celandine. Much had changed since then, especially with the deepening of her feelings towards him. She anticipated much of this day.

Behind her there was a frettful shuffling, and she peeked over her shoulder to see little Eärendil tug impatiently on the collar of his tunic. He wore a smaller duplicate of his father's attire, though granted Tuor was better at concealing any hasty feelings. She could see Idril's lips form a soft smile as she gently placed a hand on her son's head, calming him.

Turgon also watched the scene with affection in his eyes, and beyond the King, the other House Lords stood waiting for the music and Arien's sinking. Egalmoth, with Lalaith's arm happily wrapped around his own; Salgant and Aeriel, the latter stoic. Penlod with a smiling Eälasaid by his side. Caleniel, with her cheek resting on Galdor's shoulder. And many others, that eagerly awaited the evening that was so near, almost upon them, and yet still not here.

She felt Glorfindel take her hand, and turned her face around to look at him.

He'd followed her line of sight, watching with a fond smile as she seemed to observe Eärendil's obvious expression of discomfort. She truly did love the little Prince with all her heart, though he knew that feeling was different than the one she held for him. He'd often caught her daydreaming during their outings together, though when he'd asked she'd never explain anything.

It had driven him almost mad, not knowing her thoughts, but he never pressured her, for the tell-tale blush on her cheeks gave him some insight. Either his wife-to-be was fretting over how she would run his household, or she was thinking about their wedding.

He was more inclined towards the second option, knowing Anárië would never really worry about how to order Elves about when it came to getting a job done. She would have no trouble adapting to her new home. The only problem would then be if she was afraid of what would happen after the exchange of rings.

Her betrothed was not far off the mark, though Anárië was generally nervous about the whole ceremony, not just the night that would follow.

Then Arien dived over the mountains, and she felt her heart stutter as the voices within Gar Ainion burst into song, welcoming the first evening of Summer, and sang farewell to the vessel with the golden light of Laurelin.

Glorfindel looked at the elleth who's hand he held and smiled when she blushed under his gaze, before he turned and his attention went to Turgon again, under the shades of which they would be wed, just like Idril and Tuor years prior.

Many were with them, and many steered towards the King's square. They filled the temple to its full capacity, with Idril and Tuor standing close-by to the pair who would soon be joined until the ending of the world, with Ecthelion on the other side.

Turgon, who would be leading the ceremony, smiled when he looked at the gathered, and most importantly to the two radiant faces before him.

"Today, it is a joyful day to be the King," he declared, and many laughed; for indeed, it was a blessed day.

Blessed – and cursed. None had noticed the red glow coming from the north, so intent they had been on the west. None now saw the riders that hastened across Tumladen, riding hard and their beasts choking on the foam.

Inside Gar Ainion, all was peaceful as Turgon bade Ecthelion come forth with his gift for Glorfindel. It was a chain that had been in Ecthelion's family for years uncounted, made in the smithies of Tirion, a crystal masterpiece. This he gave to the groom and stepped aside.

Then Idril brought the ribbons, and the silver rings were taken off, placed upon a cushion little Eärendil held proudly. He beamed when Anárië placed her own down, and she winked at him.

Glorfindel and Anárië joined their right hands and Idril and Tuor wrapped the ribbons around them, while Turgon spoke about the waking of the Elves before the Dawn, of Eru and his will over his children, of Valinor and the Light of the Two Trees. He spoke of the Doom of the Noldor and the Princess withdrew, allowing all to see the joined hands.

"And now," the King said, "join before us by exchanging golden rings to replace the silver, and pledge yourselves to one another. And from this day henceforth, none may come between you, and nothing may sunder you."

Glorfindel went first: the golden band glimmered lightly in the sunlight that fell through the windows.

"Manwë and his brothers stand as my witnesses, that I shall love thee until the breaking of the world, and sing with thee in the Second Song. My sword shall never turn to drink thy blood, ever protecting thee and thine; the sons thou gives me shall bear it after me, and the daughters shall sing with us."

Anárië felt a calm settle over her once the ring was in place, its weight reassuring to her even though thoughts of afterwards still brought her stomach to flips and flops. She stretched her fingers lightly, admiring the way the golden band now adorned her hand, and smiled up at Glorfindel, who's eyes were deep and full of love.

She took her own ring for him and slowly let it slip down his skin.

"Varda and her sisters stand as my witnesses that I shall love thee until the breaking of the world, and sing with thee in the Second Song. I shall forever care for thee and thine, tending thy wounds; the sons I bear thee shall follow in thy wake, and the daughters shall wave them goodbye as they ride into battle."

The traditional wedding vows had been adapted by those in exile, for these were not happy times, not those they had themselves wed in. For in Valinor, there was no need for weapons or warfare. Here in Middle Earth, however, times were dire, and none delusioned themselves into thinking they would be forever safe in the confides of their own home.

They were of the Eldar, the Fair Folk: Morgoth would come upon them someday. But when he did, the men would meet him with steel, and the women would tend their wounds.

Right now, however, Anárië knew tears of joy as the ceremony was finished, with Idril cutting through the ribbons to free their hands. The whisps would be stored by the newly-weds as a token and memory of the day they shared all.

Glorfindel's smile threatened to split his face open as he pulled her close to him; she came willingly, laughing and tipping her face up towards him. Their lips met briefly in a kiss that solified this official ceremony for the benefit of friends and family, and when they pulled apart their eyes shone with the promise of that night.

Ecthelion was the first who congratulated them, wrapping his arms around his daughter, who shed a few tears, but quickly wiped them away.

"Look after her for me, Glorfindel."

"With my life," came the solemn reply even as Anárië melted against her husband's side. But she was torn away from him when Idril and Eärendil came to congratulate her, and then Tuor, and many others.

Lalaith was both laughing and crying in joy: "You are one of us now, truly! Oh, you are so beautiful today, Anárië! Glorfindel is so lucky."

"I hope he realises it too," Rog boomed from the side and swept the elleth into his arms while she laughed and tried, in vain, to free herself.

"Put me down!"

He laughed and released her, but she was then passed to Galdor who kissed her cheeks, and Duilin who apologised for the absence of his son, which both Anárië and Glorfindel acknowledged but said they did not mind.

How could they when Duinhir was scouting Tumladen and the borders of the mountains to ensure their safety?

Maeglin was nowhere to be seen, something Glorfindel was grateful for. Turgon, however, clasped arms with him and kissed Anárië's cheek.

"You are one lucky Elf, my friend – she shines with her mother's radiance."

Anárië blushed profoundly at that, waving the compliment aside, but the King simply smiled and drew her to him, hugging her.

"Cealea would have been proud of you, child, and she would have approved of your choice. Remember that."

This brought fresh tears to her eyes and she nodded, biting her lip to keep them from falling. Luckily, Eärendil jumped up to her then and she had to focus on him, something that always brightened her days.

"Anná, Anná! Did you see? I didn't trip with the pillow like so many said I would!"

"I saw! You were very dashing," she complimented him and settled the boy on her hip, her eyes seeking Glorfindel, who smiled at her from where he stood conversing with Tuor.

"I would not dare ruin your big day," the Prince said next and she looked at him again, his face all solemn and serious, "uncle Ecthelion said you would be very cross with me if I did, and I did not want you to be. I wanted you to smile – why are you crying?"

Anárië had indeed broken into a fresh set of tears again, but she shook her head furiously and blinked them away, kissing Eärendil's forehead.

"Out of happiness, my Prince. You have made me and your parents very proud today, I could not have imagined a better person to keep our rings for us. Glorfindel was very happy too."

Eärendil brightened at that, his beaming smile alerting the Lord of the Golden Flower, who laughed and joined them.

"My little Prince, you should know by now I am always happy when you are around. Today especially."

His praise gave Eärendil's eyes a saucer-wide look and then an even brighter smile, while Glorfindel chuckled and leaned in, one hand on the small of his wife's back, kissing her temple.

She sighed softly and looked at him with longing in her green eyes. He touched her face with a soft smile, a promise in his blue eyes.

That was when a horn was suddenly blown outside.

Galdor whipped his head about – that had been his gate.

One after another, the gates replied in union, and the Lords' eyes met across the hall. Dread fell over the gathered as suddenly, the Great Gate sounded the trumpets, a dual cry of terror, and the sound of hooves broke across the road.

Anárië hugged Eärendil closer to her on instinct; Glorfindel stepped to her, his hand reaching for a sword that wasn't there. Ecthelion stepped in front of the King even as a horse rounded the corner.

Duilin gave a shout as Duinhir's stallion collapsed, and the ellon flew from its back, stumbling as he tried to gain his ballance. Rog caught and steadied him, even as complete silence fell over those in Gar Ainion.

Duinhir gasped for breath and lifted his face, holding his side which was overflowing with blood.

Turgon felt as though someone had tossed him into the Grinding Ice again.

"Orcs!" the scout finally rasped, as Rog smacked his back to help him through a coughing fit.

"Dragons! Morgoth is upon us! They come from the North!"