Flame of Gondolin, book 1: Love Story

CHAPTER SIX
Early Summer, 509 FA
Tarnin Austa

It was an hour before sunrise when Anárië heard the soft knock on her door and Ecthelion looked in. She smiled and stood, crossing the room and taking his offered hand, letting him lead her out of the house.

It was the Gates of Summer festival; this morning, the first day of summer would be welcomed by the Gondolindrim. They had begun their formal feast at midnight, though Anárië had slipped away silently to spend some time on her own. Her thoughts were slightly jumbled right now, what with everything going on around her, and inside her.

Since the impromptu duel with Glorfindel, they'd never been alone again, not like then. That did not mean they did not spend time together: Glorfindel was a frequent visitor to Ecthelion's house, and Ecthelion often returned the favour, sometimes with Anárië by his side.

Other than that, the Lord of the Golden Flower seemed to materialize close-by wherever she went. If she was with Idril, he would be there conversing with Tuor or playing with Eärendil. If she rode out with Gwaiforn she was always escorted now, by various warriors, sometimes his own. He never rode with her anymore, but Anárië felt his eyes on her anyway.

It was not unpleasant; the attention he was giving her pleased her as well as frightened her slightly. He was, after all, a few hundreds of years older than her, and she had just come off-age. But for all it was worth, he was the first her eyes sought out when she entered a gathering area, or rode down the street, or sat with Idril. She felt drawn to him, like a moth to the flames: she could not get enough of his presence

Tonight, she'd decided against staying near to him. Ecthelion was too close, and his eyes saw too much. Anárië did not know where she stood with Glorfindel, she was not yet sure of herself, to allow the two men to met over the issue. Hence, her self-imposed solitude didn't seem so bad to her, after a few hours had passed.

Now though, her father was leading her towards the East Wall, where the majority, if not all, of the Gondolindrim were already gathered. Her hand was craddled at his elbow as they greeted the Elves they passed with silent nods, as none were permitted to speak before sunrise.

Her eyes moved over the faces of the gathered, in unconscious search. The pair of blues she'd been looking for were waiting for her; there was a momentary tightness in her chest when she realised Ecthelion meant to stand beside Glorfindel, but it disappeared as soon as it had come.

He was wearing the colours of his house, with a mantle threaded with gold across his shoulders; there were celandines sprayed across it, like he had taken a field in spring and drapped it over himself. And yet, she could see that despite the regal, richly embroidered tunic and soft leggings, his boots were sturdy, and could kill if he hit someone with them. His vambraces, damascened with gold, were a shocking reminder that he remained, first and foremost, a warrior. Anárië was painfully more aware of Glorfindel than she was of Ecthelion beside her.

She felt his eyes appraise her but did not acknowledge it, rather allowing her father to greet him in silence. Her greeting was a dip of the knees.

With a touch to her shoulder, her father suddenly excused himself, and she could see his face was tightly controlled – like he had noticed something bad, and needed to take care of it. She watched him leave, and Egalmoth joined him, but before they were out of sight Anárië also noticed Duilin move away from the gathered. Looking at Turgon, she couldn't see anything amis; he was the same as ever.

Warm fingers touched her hand, and Anárië turned her head to look back at Glorfindel. His eyes reassured her, as did the smile he gave her and the lightest touch on her hand as he took hold of it. She did not pull away, not from the feeling of safety that drapped over her, more effectively than even his mantle could ever do.

Of course. If anything would be wrong, they would have alerted Glorfindel as well. And all other Lords for that matter, the first one being Turgon. That was the silent message he had conveyed to her through a look, a smile, a touch.

Comforted, she finally returned his smile, and they turned as one when a single bird began to sing.

Across Tumladen, the mountain peaks were starting to glow as Arien's boat sailed higher and higher to clear them. More and more birds joined in the song. Anárië felt the hearts of the Gondolindrim become one beat as they waited for summer to finally arrive.

Then the Sun climbed over the mountains, signaling a new day, and all the voices on the wall broke into song.

They sang to Elbereth, for bringing them the stars when they'd first woken, and to Eru for creating Arda. They sang to Arien and to Summer. The silver lamps were doused, as were the jeweled lights of many colours, because they would not be needed before dusk again. Then the nation split, many heading to the Square of Folkwell, to pause under the Arch of Ingwë and offer prayer for those of their kin remaining in Valinor, before they followed the Road of Arches to the King's Square. The rest filled down the Alley of Roses, where the ellith plucked the flowers to wind them in their hair.

Anárië could not see her father, nor Egalmoth or Duilin, but Glorfindel kept a sure hold on her and he followed after Turgon. Her hand remained in his, but none paid them any heed, for they were all anxious and waiting to break their fast together on the first goods of Summer in front of the royal palace.

The Tower of Turgon rose high into the air, above the fresh morning mists, gleaming like a spike in the early rays. Arien's light caught in the waters of the fountain sitting across from the tower, the spray misting the air further, but adding a coolness to it that would remain throughout the day, no matter the temperature.

Tables had been set upon the square, and food prepared, though not everyone could be seated. The King and his Lords, with their closest kin, would eat there.

That was where Glorfindel was leading Anárië, and she followed without question; Idril caught her eye and winked, smiling.

But the solemn morning was broken when little Eärendil spied them, and escaped his mother's grasp to run towards Anárië. Laughing, the elleth freed her hand from Glorfindel's and knelt to be the boy's height, opening her arms as he flung himself at her.

"Anná, Anná! Atar promised to make me a sword!"

Even though Eärendil was nearly seven, he was lithe of build and Anárië could lift him easily, so she stood, settling him on her hip and smiling through his gushing words.

"Has he now? Well, I say it is about time! A mighty warrior like yourself needs a trusted sword."

The boy beamed and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close, earning himself compliments and gentle exclamations when he kissed her cheek. Anárië only smiled brighter and held him tight.

"I've missed you, Anná," he told her as she carried him towards the table, always conscious of Glorfindel's soothing presence close-by, "you have not visited me in a long time."

There was accusation in his voice, and Anárië assumed a solemn expression, "Forgive me, my Prince – I was delayed. After today, I promise you, I shall come by every day to spend time with you. Perhaps you will ride with me on Gwaiforn."

Eärendil's eyes lit up at that, "The big charger Altatar gave you?"

She chuckled and nodded, "Yes; I shall bring him to you someday."

"And no, Eärendil, you will not be getting one of your own before you are well-seated on your pony," Tuor's voice floated to them as the Lord of the Wing moved closer, with a patronising smile, taking his son from Anárië among the boy's complaints, "you are not THAT great of a warrior yet. But you will be, someday."

That distracted him and Eärendil spent the next half an hour questioning his father on how to become a warrior as great as he, or uncles Ecthelion and Glorfindel.

Anárië watched them with a fond smile, only becoming aware of her surroundings again when Glorfindel lightly touched her arm.

"Shall we have a seat? It will be a long day, I believe breakfast is in order."

There was humor in his voice and Anárië could not find it in her to argue. With one of his hands on the small of her back warming her, she let him lead her to her seat, which was opposite Idril. To her left the chair was empty, obviously waiting for her father. Glorfindel sat down on her right.

Turgon greeted the gathered with brief words of thank you and of blessing, and then sat down so they could enjoy the meal. Anárië was into her second helping of strawberry jam and sweet white bread, chatting amiably with Idril and very much aware of Glorfindel's foot lightly touching her own under the table when Ecthelion arrived.

He kissed his daughter's cheek as he sat down, and first promised Eärendil he would play him the new composition he'd made before he was able to speak in soft murmurs with Turgon. While Anárië was curious, her attention was with Glorfindel, who despite successfully diverting Eärendil's attention to himself had shifted his foot.

Glad for a small respite, Anárië was on her feet immediately once Elwen slipped to her side and murmured that the ellith would be fixing the flower wreaths and choosing their warriors before noon. Taking the raven-haired elleth's hand, among general laughter, Anárië ran to the fountain on light feet, with many other unwed maidens.

Settling on the edge of the water, the ellith went to work while the tables were pushed back into the shade of the palace. Eärendil escaped his parents once more and when Idril turned to look for him, she saw him sitting in Anárië's lap while the elleth held him fast and was showing him something in the water.

"My grandson loves your daughter," Turgon said to Ecthelion as they watched the same scene, just as Eärendil stepped onto the fountain ledge and stretched his arms high, obviously explaining something to the ellith, who were laughing and clapping enthusiastically.

Ecthelion could only smile, "And she loves him, with all her heart. I hope to see her nurse her own son someday. She would make a fine mother."

There was a shriek and a splash, but Tuor stayed Idril as she meant to rush forward, motioning with a hand: it had been the flower basket that had gone into the water. Anárië had snatched Eärendil away just in time.

Galdor came behind Ecthelion and nudged him, and grudgingly, though laughing, the Lord pulled his flute out, and Salgant shifted closer with his harp. They began playing together while the ellith picked up the tune and sang, and finished the crowns of flowers.

Once the two musicians saw that, their melody changed to a livelier, almost teasing song that sent the ellith running. The next few hours were then spent in easy relaxation for the elders and married couples, while the unwed filled the streets of Gondolin with song, flowers, and whispers.

Anárië had been pestered into giving her crown to Eärendil, but she was not mad. The child was simply too precious to deny, though she had a feeling Idril would be scolding him, and her as well once she found her.

So she slipped away silently, avoiding Duilin's son Duinhir who she spied coming in her general direction, and headed to Gar Ainion, where Idril and Tuor had been wed. The temple was silent and cool after the blazing sun from outside, and she sighed softly, sitting against one of the high pillars that surrounded the highest spot in Gondolin.

There were footsteps, not long after, the soft, but sure fall of warrior feet. It could have been her father, yet Anárië could hear his flute singing outside still, not far from where she was now. The light that fell through the windows shimmered and danced lightly, as if it had bounced off a glimmering, intricately-designed surface.

Turning her head and looking at Glorfindel, she smiled softly.

The warrior smiled in return and took a seat to her side.

"Duinhir told me he saw you coming this way, but he also said that he lost sight of you."

Anárië, still smiling, looked at her hands, folded in her lap.

"He did see me, and I saw him, but I did not desire his company at that moment. I mingled with a few other ellith before coming here."

They were silent then for a while, listening to Ecthelion's flute and Salgant's harp, and to their own soft breathing. Nothing else disturbed the peace of Gar Ainion.

It was Glorfindel who broke the silence again.

"Idril is quite cross with you, you know, because you gave your crown to Eärendil. Tuor wasn't too pleased either."

His voice was neutral, she noted, but that meant nothing to her. Instead she smiled: "He begged for it so sweetly! I could not refuse him. There will always be a special place for him in my heart, no matter what. He is the brother I never had. I can only hope his parents won't handle him too strictly."

Glorfindel chuckled, "Of course not. The King looked mildly amused, and Eärendil saw that. He has sought his protection. All is well."

Anárië smiled more and looked at him again, "Then I am glad."

Then there was silence again, but not uncomfortable, as they gazed into each other's eyes. Had anyone entered the temple then, they would have seen two Elves as still as statues, as the marble underneath them, conversing through their eyes. No words were given, but none were necessary.

"Do you feel it?" the elleth asked suddenly, in a whisper, not breaking the shared gaze, "It is … there is something on the air."

He nodded; he'd felt it too. And in the silence of Gar Ainion, it was even more pronounced than before on the King's square. Shifting slightly, the rustle of fabric a gentle breeze, Glorfindel's boot touched her slipper. There they remained while Ecthelion's melody turned to 'The Ride of Oromë'.

Anárië broke the gaze first, looking down into her lap again, "I have no crown to give anymore."

"It does not matter to me."

She smiled shyly when she looked up again, and Glorfindel realised she had not finished; his eyes fell on her hands. There, in her cupped palms, was a single celandine.

He could feel the smile growing on his face, as her cheeks were tinted with rose dust.

"They were all gone but the ones in the crown; Eärendil graciously allowed me to take one of his. He said that he would be very cross with me if I gave it to Duinhir, who would be better off with a daisy, to go with his white tunic, but if I should give it to you, then he would not object."

The seriousness in her voice, combined with the innocent words spoken by a young boy, made Glorfindel laugh softly. Stretching his arms and flexing the muscles there after holding still for so long, he cupped her hands with his own gently.

Anárië took a breath sharply, feeling her heartbeat quicken as she whispered: "I – I have never felt this way in my life."

Her voice trembled ever so slightly; he guessed she'd been trying to hide it. His smile softened, becoming reassuring.

"Nor have I – but we will learn together. I will teach you what I know, if you will let me."

Her only answer was another shy smile, and after a few more moments in the shades of Gar Ainion, Glorfindel stood and helped her to her feet. They ventured out together, her hand firmly in his as they rejoined the festivities. Eärendil spotted Anárië first and she had to let go of Glorfindel's hand again so she could care for the boy properly.

But the Lord of the Golden Flower was never far away.

Idril caught her by the elbow as Eärendil darted ahead, and Anárië paused for a brief moment, in breathless laughter.

"I would have scolded you for giving my son your crown but it seems I do not have to," the Princess murmured. The two golden-haired ellith let their eyes travel to where Glorfindel had just scooped Eärendil into his arms and tossed him in the air: when the boy landed safely and clung to the Lord, he pointed to a real celandine flower pinned by the brooch to the mantle.

"Your son was most gracious in allowing me to keep that one," Ecthelion's daughter said with a serious face. Idril shook her head and, with a nudge, let Anárië run forward, a satisfied smile on her face. Tuor wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder as they watched Eärendil practically jump from Glorfindel's arms to Anárië's.

To the side, Maeglin retreated into the shadows with a sneer on his face. They would see no more of him tonight.

The dancing began when Arien turned her boat west, and Ecthelion took a small pause to regain his breath, and seek his daughter out.

Over the rim of his glass, he could see her laughing as she passed under the joint hands of another couple with Duinhir behind her. She danced with Egalmoth as well as Rog, Hendor and Lasgow as the music continued. There were many others who claimed her hand during various dances.

But when he took his flute up again and played 'Winds of Manwë', it was Glorfindel who lead her onto the dance floor. Despite the music he was producing, Ecthelion was not so preoccupied to not notice the subtle change in his daughter.

For as long as he could remember, Anárië had always been uncomfortable while dancing, never relaxing fully. There had always been that straight line of her back which hindered the otherwise graceful moves.

But with Glorfindel, she glided, floated, as if she were not walking at all. When the Lord placed his hands on her waist to lift her into the air, her moves were that of an experienced dancer. Glorfindel placed her down again and even as she turned, her hand sought his so that they moved as one.

She depended on him to be where he was supposed to be when she came out of a figure, Ecthelion realised; she was counting on him to make his moves right.

She trusted him.

The song ended and the dancers applauded, and while Ecthelion took his bows, his grey eyes followed his daughter as she so easily leaned in to say something in Glorfindel's ear before moving off the dance floor towards the tables. The Lord of the Golden flower shifted so that he hovered close to her when they walked, not to cage her but to protect her.

And Ecthelion, despite the foreboding in his heart, smiled.