Flame of Gondolin, book 2: Miss Independent

CHAPTER TWO
Winter, 538 FA

"’Tis my turn to feed him!"

"No, it’s mine!"

"Mine!"

"MINE!"

Anárië dropped the brush with which she’d been going over the coat of Elwing’s mare and turned to where her lady’s sons were fighting over who would feed Raumonóna.

"Elrond, Elros!"

The boys stopped immediately, turning wide grey eyes to the elleth, the carrot hanging mid-air between them in their hands.

She walked over to the pair and placed her hands on her hips: "You are frightening the colt. Look." Raumonóna was pressed against the farthest wall of his stall, his legs locked together and head bowed with ears pulled back and flattened against the skull.

Elrond was the first to let go of the carrot: "I’m sorry Anná -"

"- no more ‘I’m sorry’!" she commented dryly, crossing her arms in front of her, "Every day, I hear the same meaningless fidgeting and arguments. I thought we agreed that you would BOTH feed him, if you feel like you can be responsible enough to do so."

She directed her gaze to Elros, who was the more stubborn of the two, and the more headstrong. If there was any trouble involving the twins, you could be certain he was the leader of the venture.

The boy held her eyes for a moment longer, and then dropped his own to the floor.

"Now that we are all on the same level," Anárië resumed, shaking her head and taking the carrot from them, "he cannot eat such a big vegetable yet. You must cut it for him, like this." She proceeded to demonstrate; Raumonóna lifted his ears at the sound and the smell, and carefully edged closer, still fearful of the commotion that had sent him into the corner in the first place.

The elleth finished, and gave half the carrot to Elros, and half to Elrond, then clicked her tongue to beckon the colt closer.

"Hold your hand out, with as flat of a palm as you can, without dropping the food," she said gently, showing both of them and adjusting the way they held their hands, "there, very good. Raumonóna, here. ‘Tis fresh."

The colt’s nostrils flared as he sniffed at the offerings, and then he carefully nibbled some from Elrond, and some from Elros, before retreating again.

"Should he not eat them all?" asked the younger of the two, his eyes large with both wonder and worry as he looked towards the elleth.

Anárië smiled and tapped the bowl beside her, "He will eat them when he feels like it. Place them in there with some oats and leave him be."

While Elrond took the remains of the carrot, Elros ran for the oats. Hastening back with the bag, he carefully tipped it over the bowl. As he was finishing, he asked: "May we take him out later?"

"After you have seen he has eaten and rested for at least an hour after that," she allowed, and smiled at the bright expressions on the boys’ faces. Leaning over them, Anárië quickly kissed the top of their heads, "You shall make fine horsemen yet."

With that praise she left them, having some other chores to do before she’d be able to return to the stables. Eärendil had been gone for a couple of weeks now, and his absence was already noticed, quite strongly.

A call alerted her and she changed course to where she could see Elwing standing in the doorway of the main house. Anárië smiled as she neared her.

"My lady."

The raven-haired of the pair waved her hand: "Please, just Elwing. When we are alone, I feel like I am a hundred years old as you call me that. Are my sons in the stable?"

"Yes, they are with the colt," Anárië acknowledged, "feeding and observing him. I’ve allowed them to take him out after he has eaten, it will do them all good."

Elwing smiled and nodded with obvious satisfaction: "Good. They need the responsibility – and something to keep their mind off their father."

Eärendil was not a preferred topic for either of the two, and so it was quickly dropped.

"I will be out and about all day, I think," Anárië said after a moment, "but I will be close. If you need me, send someone out."

The lady nodded and they parted ways; Anárië was eager to find her own room and the trunk she had there. A shadow of unease had been growing on her mind of late, and she could not explain it.

Her thoughts clouded her vision and so she did not see Galdor until he reached out to touch her shoulder; she flinched and jumped away, startled, before her features softened at the sight.

"Uncle."

"Forgive me, Anárië, I did not wish to frighten you," he apologized, falling in-stride with her, "you seemed so pensive that I did not know how to approach you otherwise."

She wrapped an arm around his gently: "No matter. It has passed. Do you need me for anything?"

Since the beginning of their exile, Galdor had drawn closer to the remaining survivors of the Gondolindrim. Both he and his wife Caleniel were close with Anárië, and she counted them dear to her, like family, and wished she could ease their suffering over all that had happened. But only time would be able to heal their wounds.

He shook his head: "For my part, no, but Egalmoth has been looking for you. He begged me to tell you this if I saw you."

She frowned; after the sack of their city, and the subsequent flight, her uncle through marriage to Lalaith had grown close with his niece, though he was usually more forward with his messages.

"That is odd, he usually comes alone – but I shall go find him now."

She gave her other uncle’s arm a light touch, before detangling herself and going on her way, very much guessing where she would find Egalmoth in the end.

He was waiting for her in her room, and while pleased to see him, Anárië was slightly annoyed by the fact that he had simply let himself in, although she would never hold it against him.

"Sometimes I wonder whether the word ‘privacy’ means anything to you at all," she quipped teasingly, and he rolled his eyes slightly; they were about the same height, since she was taller than the ellith partly in thanks to her father’s genes, partly to her mother’s statuesque figure, something they both knew well.

"I only came to see if you needed my help today with that favour you asked – or have you already forgotten?"

The elleth’s eyes landed on the trunk in front of her bed.

All her valuable possessions were in it, from Glorfindel’s sword to her tattered wedding dress, and now she recalled that she wished to have it removed some place else. Not because she feared someone from the colony would tamper with it, far from it. But the unease that she felt lately needed somehow to be appeased.

"No, I have not forgotten. Thank you for coming."

Egalmoth shrugged his shoulders: "It is a pleasure and honour. Where did you want to move it? My house?"

"If I wanted you to have it, I would have given it to you," she said with a shake of her head, pushing a strand of hair from her face.

"Very well, where then?"

"Take hold and follow me."

They lifted the trunk carefully; it was not that heavy, since the only item that could weigh much was the sword of the Golden Flower. No one paid them any heed as they took it out into the light and followed a path away from the main settlement. When she looked back, Anárië could see the twins leading her colt out on a rope.

He followed her gaze, and nodded his head: "They seem to handle him well enough."

"They will do well," she agreed, and then huffed as the trunk slipped her grasp a little, "but I will not if we do not move faster. There is a path to the bottom of the cliffs – and before you ask, no, you will not slip and fall. There are better ways to dispose of you than such an obvious one, uncle."

Egalmoth pressed his lips together, the only sign that he had used to smile, and followed her lead, careful with how he handled the trunk. He might not understand why she wished to conceal the heavy thing, but he would help her nonetheless. He felt compelled to do so; Ecthelion would never forgive him if he did not watch out for his daughter, as he had sworn soon after her birth because of the family bond. So he toiled with her down the steep, but otherwise easy path; it was cleverly concealed and no one that did not know it existed would know it was there. Not that many would want to use it regardless, there seemed no point.

There was currently a low tide, which enabled them entrance to a system of caves, carved out of living rock by the sea through the years.

They placed the trunk between two shelves, and Anárië relaxed.

"No one shall know it is here except for us."

The raven-haired Elf gave her a look, but stayed silent. It was a few moments before she turned to glance at him again.

"I have a bad feeling, uncle. I do not understand it – but I feel safer with the trunk here now. If anything should happen -"

She lifted a hand when he started to interrupt, "- if anything should happen, come back here and take it. Keep it safe; it has everything of my previous life inside, save for my father’s sword." She kept the presence of Tuor’s knife a secret, even from him, for now. For all Egalmoth knew, she had lost it during their escape.

Finally, he nodded, and then looked down.

"We might want to head back – the tide is coming in," he commented, pointing to the couple of inches of water already gathered at the bottom of the cave.

With a last look back at her past, Anárië followed after him and accepted his hand to climb onto the beginning of the path, since the water was really rising again.

The climb back was slow, but faster than their way down as they were unburdened; they spoke little, each wrapped in his own thoughts. The wind howled over the cliffs, flinging the first waves against the rock.

Anárië shuddered: "Such wailing! I have never heard it before; Ossë is in a fell mood today."

Egalmoth’s head snapped up at that, his body tensing; Anárië knew the signs too well not to recognize them.

"What is it?"

The Elf-lord listened, then cursed and ran the rest of the way up. She followed him fast and firm, and they climbed back to the top of the cliffs.

"’Tis not the wind that wails so!" he called, pointing towards the delta, and the settlement. Adrenaline spiked through her veins as Anárië looked at what he was showing her, the hairs at the back of her neck standing on end. Her breath caught.

The colony was burning.

They broke into a run in mutual consent, Egalmoth freeing his sword as they went. Anárië had left the Flame of Gondolin behind in her lodging, so she simply allowed what strength she had to flow through her limbs and propel her forward.

The wails in the wind intensified; they were not the wind. They were the cries of women and children under assault.

Egalmoth fell onto a couple of grappling Elves like a rock, sending them all to the ground but kicking at the attacker, relieving Hendor so he could regain his footing. Swords flashed, but Anárië screamed.

"Uncle!"

Too late! His sword went clean through the abdomen, and only then did he see the chocolate-coloured hair of the Elf, and the light dimming in his dark eyes as he slipped to the ground.

Bile rose in the elleth’s throat as all three of them looked, horror-stricken, at the fallen; she had a hand across her mouth.

Hendor was the first to move: "He carries the emblem of Maedhros."

The name felt like a slap to the face. The eldest son of Fëanor was in the settlement? Anárië’s head lifted.

"The Silmaril!"

Egalmoth cursed and turned to follow the other Elf, who was already sprinting towards the burning buildings. From afar, a horn could be heard blowing, and horses neighed; a group of them was seen riding down the main path, banners flying high.

Anárië ran; she ignored her uncle’s calls behind her as she ducked under a flaming support beam and cut a shortcut to where she knew she would find her weapons. She was separated from the other two Elves in the confusion; her room was already on fire when she entered it, but nonetheless she grabbed the bow and arrows Duilin had made her, and her father’s sword. She would not leave it for the plunder.

She was out just in the nick of time as the roof collapsed, and sparks flew all over; she brushed those that fell upon her away, and hastened to the main building.

"Elwing! Elwing, where are you?" Where the lady was, so would the twins be, she was sure of it. And she would have the Silmaril, something that the Fëanorions craved.

Hot anger surged through her as she passed the bodies of Elves she knew; was it not enough that Melkor was against them? Now the blood Oath the seven sons had sworn for their father lay between them and their kindred.

She flitted through shadows and passed flames, unwilling to engage in the combat raging all around her. She would not sully her hands with the blood of her kin, not if she could help it. Instead, she searched for Elwing.

"Elwing! Elwing! Elrond! Elros!"

No answer. Despair gripped her in its clutches, but she fought it as she avoided contact with one of the offending officers, sprinting in the other direction and losing him among the ragging flames.

That was when she saw her. She was a lone figure in white, fleeing the scene, rushing away.

Towards the cliffs.

Anárië choked back a cry, biting down hard on her knuckles so she would not alert anyone else. It was Elwing’s choice – and she had sworn to protect her sons. They were not with their mother, this much she could see.

Where were they?

She turned and ran back towards the flames, when the shrill neigh of one of the horses brought her to an abrupt stop.

Raumonóna! They had taken the colt out just before she and Egalmoth had gone to hide her chest!

Instantly, she picked her pace again, cutting across a lane and quickly darting out of archers’ sight, barely avoiding a couple of arrows, but none dared pursue her as Hendor had rallied some of the Elves in the settlement to him; among them, she could hear her uncles’ horns, singing clear, high notes above the carnage.

Anárië wept as she ran away, knowing she was betraying them, but also knowing she would commit a betrayal far worse if she allowed the twins to perish. They had been aiming towards the western bank when last she’d looked. She would start there.

The ground was hard and unyielding, but suddenly, she saw the clipped marks of what seemed to be something small, on four legs. And there! Beside it, footprints. They had come this way.

Silence embraced her as she passed under the low-lying branches into the wood, reeking of smoke and ashes, but the settlement was now behind her, and the tracks were easier to read. The ground here was not so flat or hard, but supple, as much as it could be in winter time; Raumonóna had been here.

The elleth continued down this path swiftly now, pushing branches aside and darting through the trees, following what seemed to have been a path once; it stirred something in her memory, but it was not until she heard it that she remembered.

Before they had settled by the very delta of the Sirion, the Exiles of Gondolin had paused by a small waterfall some stone-throws away into the forest. The twins would have known they needed to find water for the colt.

Her steps hastened, and she practically fell out into the clearing, a smile upon her features.

There was no one there.

Anárië felt her heart freeze, and for a moment, panic seized her completely. Had she been wrong? Had she taken a wrong turn? Had the footsteps turned aside?

The breeze that blew brought the scent of burnt wood and flesh; her nose wrinkled, but it also helped clear her thoughts. She had to look further. The ground was wet here, from the presence of the water, and so tracks should be easy enough to find. She bent low to inspect the long grass and what lay beneath it. It did not take her long to find that indeed, both horse and the two boys had been by the waterfall. But no tracks turned back or away from the clearing.

They simply vanished.

Gauging the depth of the water and the waterfall, the elleth wondered. One of her hands was resting in the cool liquid, the one with which she had swatted the sparks away and had been mildly burnt. It was a soothing, calming feeling. The song of Ulmo was strong here.

She started.

Without really thinking, Anárië lowered herself into the water, finding it knee-high, and held both bow and sword in her hands, away from the danger of getting them wet. Then she waded forward. At its peak, the water was no higher than her waist.

An instinct guided her towards the left, and suddenly the booming water was behind her, and she was in a dark, dimly-lit cave by what little light came through the curtain behind her.

She received a neigh in greeting.

"Anná!"

Relieved, almost sobbing with hysteria, the elleth climbed out and tossed the weapons aside as the twins ran to her, falling into her arms. She clung to them, needing to touch their faces, their hair, their hands, inspect to see nothing had befallen them.

"You are unharmed?" she demanded, taking a better look at them, turning them so she could see their faces.

They nodded, but she could see the streaks tears had left behind on their cheeks.

"We – we got lost in the woods, and could not find our way back – and then Raumonóna was thirsty, and wanted water, and he would not let us leave again -"

"- he jumped in and we didn’t want to upset you, so we followed, and we’ve been here ever since -"

Anárië hushed them gently, and rubbed the colt’s muzzle as he came to inspect her. His warm breath calmed her; he had sensed something was amiss, and had not wished to return to the burning and slaying. She rubbed him under his chin.

"Anná?"

She looked to Elros, who was now holding his brother’s hand; his eyes were large. He had finally seen her appearance, the ashes clinging to her hair, the blackness smeared across her face.

"Is – can we go home now?"

It felt like Gondolin all over again – and it hurt. Anárië’s eyes filled with tears as she gathered the twins to her, vowing to herself that she would get them out alive. How or where, she did not know. But she would not allow Maedhros’ blindness to snatch them from her.

"I am sorry, Elros – but we cannot."

His eyes went even rounder: "But nana -"

Her heart broke.

"Your mother – forgive me, ermell, she is gone."


ermell - dear one