#au gondolin

[greenekangaroo]

I really should turn AU gondolin into a linear story

but it just ends badly for everyone involved

and I can't bring myself to do it.

[greenekangaroo]

Sickness- AU Gondolin

Ecthelion of the Fountain was the first elf in Gondolin to fully realize why the half-mad husband of his King's sister so gleefully shunned the sun.

---

It started with little Camrith.

She had been seeking flowers in the cracks in the stone of the House of the Fountain- as many of the children did, for despite the best efforts of his heroic gardeners, Ecthelion's plants followed the water wherever they could find it. Camrith was the daughter of a handmaiden, and her mother and others had been gossiping while mending by the larger fountains in the House's main courtyard.

No one realized that Camrith had gone over the edge of the low hanging wall and down the narrow cut steps which would, in other times, lead to a cellar further down the sheer drop at the city's side. The girl was chasing buttercups, and indeed there was a lovely bunch just on the other side of a large gap in the steps, where a piece had crumbled away and had yet to be repaired. Fearlessly she made the jump, and happily she gathered her flowers, only to find she could not return to the other side.

That was when she screamed for help, frightening away the ravens who had been flying nearby.

---

Ecthelion had sent word to the House of the Mole, knowing Maeglin's people were too far to help if the girl slipped from the tiny ledge. The rock wall far above her was lined with worried elves, all calling encouragement and trying to figure out a way down. For Camrith the stairs were fine; for a full grown elf, they were alarmingly dangerous. Ecthelion called himself ten times the fool for not heeding the words of his steward and paced, tense and angry.

There was a tap on his shoulder. He looked up into a familiar black-masked face.

"Lord Eol?" he asked.

The avar had a coil of rope the likes of which Ecthelion had never before seen on his shoulder, and also strange claws hanging from his belt.

"Hello, Lord Ecthelion." he said, as though he'd merely been out for a walk. "Where is she?"

The other elves moved aside for Eol, whispering urgently to one another. Camrith's mother would not move and Eol did not ask her to. Cat-footed he climbed up on the wall and fearlessly stalked it back and forth, keeping an eye on Camrith, who had paused in her crying to watch him, hypnotised.

"Nothing for it." Ecthelion heard him mutter. Then the hood was pulled down and the mask removed, the long black strip tied as a sling around his middle. Eol's pale, noble face was revealed for all to see and some leaned forward, curious even in their fear for the young one. Eol knelt and began tying the rope around his middle.

"Lord Ecthelion," he said without looking up from his task, "I need eight of your strongest."

Ecthelion immediately called for his eight strongest elves and they came forward. Eol handed them the end of the odd rope and slipped the claws onto his hands. He explained what he was going to do.

"I'll need you to lower me. When I yell, stop." Eol said. "I'll swing over and grab the child. Then you will need to pull me back up. The wind is working against us. It will take time."

---

It did take time. Nearly five hours did the elves fight against the wind to rescue little Camrith from her stone island, but eventually Eol straddled the wall with the child in his arms, sitting in the sling he'd made of his mask. A cheer went up and the girl was reunited with her mother. Immediately the maid went to thank Eol-

who had disappeared as quickly as he'd come, with his rope and his claws.

---

He had not gone far. Ecthelion found him in a shadowed corner far from the sunny courtyard. Concealed by the darkness he was retching and coughing into one of the fountains, and what came up was little bile but plenty of blood.

Ecthelion of the Fountain could not be described as an impulsive elf. While others would have called for a healer he waited quietly until Eol's fit was done, until the avar had withdrawn deeper into the shadow. Then he approached and, wetting a cloth in another clean fountain, knelt before the husband of Ardhel.

Eol's chuckle was tired. "Thank you." he murmured and took the cloth. He cleaned his face with it and sighed deeply. "If you don't mind lending me this pocket," he said, gesturing to the shadow, "I believe I'll have a nap."

Ecthelion smiled in spite of himself. "I do not begrudge you the use of my shadows, Eol." he said. He looked thoughtful. "Is that why you so scorn the sun?" he asked. "Do its rays hurt you so?"

Eol closed his eyes and leaned back against the cool stone pillar. "When you are born, Lord Ecthelion," he said, "and everything around you is lit by stars, it is the light you absorb, the light you hold dear. Then the Gods put great lamps in the sky and do not ask you before they light the wicks. Once there were more of us. Then we began to burn."

His eyes opened again. "I was the youngest. I was the one who could adapt. So I did, after a fashion. Arnor is not my ally. we tolerate one another. Too long and the pain is annoying. Longer, it is excruciating. Longer still, unbearable."

Ecthelion nodded. "You saved one of my house today." he said. "I thank you for that, Moriquendi. Use my shadows as you will, and if you would have me, I would call you friend."

Eol chuckled. "Even after the First Gate?"

Ecthelion smiled. "Yes. Even then."

"Than I accept both your friendship and your shadows, Fountain Lord." Eol turned and, without further discussion, slipped to sleep. Ecthelion checked the sun's angle and left the avar where he lay, giving orders that that part of the House was not to be disturbed.

---

A/N: There's nothing in canon to insinuate that Eol gets sick from being exposed to sunlight, or is in any way physically affected by the sun any more than any other elf. However, presuming he was around when the stars were the only source of light, I didn't think it outside the range of possibility that the sun really DOES hurt him, and possibly led to him being one of a few of his clan who survived when the sun came into being.

[greenekangaroo]

Kindred- AU Gondolin

Idril Celebrindal took to having an Uncle far quicker than many expected.

---

"My lady!"

Idril sighed and turned. Her aunt's husband was coming up behind her, dressed as ever in his odd hood and mask.

"Yes, Lord Eol?" she asked patiently. The avari had been in the city less than six months and already whispers abounded that he was bewitched, or mad, or half-maia, or possibly a dwarf cursed with an elvish form. Idril heard these whispers and ignored them. Still, she had avoided speaking with her new Uncle unless decorum dictated it, if only to avoid the age old argument. She was already ill in mood, for avoiding the avar's son most of the morning.

"My lady, you've-"

"No, I haven't." Idril said shortly.

Eol's eyebrows rise. "Pardon?"

"I don't have to, I don't want to, there's an official decree that says I am allowed where I wish clothed as I wish and I'll go get it if you'd like me to." she said.

The eyebrows- Idril's only sign of Eol's temperament, as his lower face was covered by his mask- scrunched together in confusion. "My Lady I've no idea what you're talking about." he said imploringly.

"You're not the first craftsman to try and berate me for not wearing shoes, you know." Idril said, ill humor rising.

Eol blinked coal-black eyes. "What have shoes to do with this?" he held up a small opal earring. "You dropped it, my Lady. Just around the corner, by my yard."

Idril's hands flew to her ears where, sure enough, one drop had gone missing. She blushed brilliantly. "OH! Oh my- please forgive me, Lord Eol, I meant no insult. It's a bit of a sore spot."

Eol's chuckle was deep, deeper than any elf she'd heard save Glorfindel. "I can tell." he said. "It's not my place to tell a Princess what to wear upon her feet, particularly one whose feet are called silver. Besides." here he pointedly looked down.

Idril did as well- and covered her mouth and her giggles when she saw that Eol too went without shoes, his feet bare and sooty. Indeed he had left a line of sooty footprints chasing after her from his forge.

"It does them good to get some air." he told her conspiratorially. "Not when I'm working with iron, though. I'd rather not break my toes. Keep an eye to your baubles, Princess." he bowed to her and turned, pit-patting away and leaving fresh footprints in his wake. Idril watched and when he reached the corner, he caught her eye and gave a little skipping flourish before disappearing back to his forge.

Idril was grinning for the rest of the morning, and when one of the chief palace maids complained of the odd footprints in the lower veranda corridor, she smiled even wider.

[greenekangaroo]

Roadtrip- AU gondolin

Discussions lead to contemplations, and contemplations to action.

---

The room still echoed with Maeglin's unspoken rage five minutes after he had gone. Ardhel, seated by the fire with her embroidery hoop, watched her husband sigh deeply and drop bonelessly into a chair. She stood and left her work, moving around behind him. She put her hands on his shoulders.

"He is not like me, Ardhel."

Ardhel's brow furrowed. This was not normally how he spoke to her after an argument with their son. "How is he not like you, Eol?" she asked gently.

"He is not content to wander and learn, to be an elf and free. I am a blacksmith, Ardhel, and Mahal curse it I've fathered a prince with no kingdom."

Ardhel was quiet, lips pressed together in a thin line. One of Eol's hands came up to encircle hers. "You speak to him of Gondolin."

Of course Eol would have heard from his strange servants, or even with his own keen ears. "They are only tales, my husband."

"Are they?" he turned to her and the light caught his eyes, lighting them up their strange, brilliant blue-green. "They are not the words of a loremistress, Ardhel, but the yearnings of a tired heart."

Ardhel was startled and withdrew, though Eol kept hold of her hand. "I did not mean-"

"Tell me now, wife, and truthfully, that if you did not fear my anger, whether you would leave and seek again your brother and his kingdom."

Ardhel's lips parted in a soft 'oh'. She wished to draw her eyes from Eol and knew that she couldn't; he would not let her, not until she answered.

"Yes." she said at last, words nearly eaten by the cracking fire. "Yes, I would."

He let go of her hand, stood, and left. Ardhel knew that he would not return to their bed that night but would spend time in his workshop. She sat back down once the door had closed softly and gazed at the fire, tears fine diamonds on her cheeks.

---

For two months, Eol rarely saw either wife or son. He was working, or tending to his marches, or straightening out a trade route. Indeed Ardhel saw him more and more with the dwarves who visited their stronghold and she was not sure what to think of it. Even Drakmir, her husband's faithful steward and often privy to his thoughts, knew not what was going on.

When Eol left to visit the dwarves he was gone far longer than normal, and though Maeglin tried to persaude his mother that then was the time she remained, unsure.

It was two years to the day, and Maeglin out hunting with a few of the servants, that Eol came again into their shared living chamber, carrying something wrapped in oil cloth, another leather wrapped item, and a scroll.

"I found it." he said. "Buried in the very last bloody store room, I might have known."

Ardhel stood by the fireplace, unsure. "Husband?" she asked.

"Help me," he implored her, and so Ardhel took hold of one end of the oilcloth bundle and after the other two were set down aided him in unwrapping the package. Once the work was done she stared in quiet awe; it was her bow, and her quiver, both of which had been taken when at last the borders of Nan Elmoth were deemed safe enough from orcs.

"Eol?" she whispered.

"Can't very well cross half of Beleriand with no weapons." Eol said. "Between the orcs and your cousins, strolling through Angband might be safer." He laid out the scroll and it was a map, freshly brought from Doriath. "I've thought of four paths, but perhaps there are more; you will need to jog my memory, wife. If we must visit your cousins I ask you mercifully keep it brief."

Ardhel was staring now, convinced her husband was taken by some madness. "My Lord-"

"OH yes." Eol looked to the last package and lifted it up. He looked at it with a sort of sorrowful fondness. "It's my own failing, I suppose, that our son sees you as his Lady Mother and not as I saw you the day you entered my forest. After all, our borders are safe; I don't tolerate orcs, or trolls, or wargs. Still, I should have crafted this for you years ago. I apologize, Ardhel, that I have been so lax in my duties."

He knelt and held it out for her. "Take it."

Ardhel worked her jaw, looking at her husband. His face showed her nothing but honesty, and a nervous anticipation. His eyes did not catch hers; he was telling no lies. She moved forward and took the item, unwrapping it. In spite of herself she gasped.

It was a sword. Its crossguard was made of silver wings, its pommel the bright sun halved with a moon. The handle was of ivory horn, inlaid with pale gold. When she withdrew the blade it was bone white and glinted with runes that seemed to skitter away when she tried to read them.

"Celebang." Eol said quietly. "Sister blade to Anguirel. I would have you wield it in protection, my wife, as we seek your brother's hidden way."

Ardhel allowed the blade to slide back into its sheathe and, dazed, laid it on the table. We? He had said we.

"...you wish to go with us?"

Eol stood and put his hands on her shoulders. "For years you have dwelt here with me, Ardhel," he said, "content to obey my commands, to mother my son, to be hostess and lady of this dark fortress. You have done all of this for me. It would be shameful for me to do any less for you."

"But the sun," Ardhel heard herself protesting, "the sun in Gondolin is so bright.."

"I will wear my hood, and mask, and be thought of as strange but then that is nothing new." Eol assured her.

"By my brother's decree one who enters Gondolin must stay or choose death!" Ardhel said. "I am his sister and so I left, but Eol-" she cut herself off. Eol, her husband, who wandered for miles without direction or true intent, would be trapped within Gondolin, with its high white walls and soaring pennants.

"I have said my goodbyes to my brothers in the mountains." Eol said firmly. "They have agreed to trade routes that will benefit Doriath. I have sent missives to Thingol, telling him I seek my wife's family; whether I return or not is no concern of his. Drakmir will keep watch here, and will become Lord once I am gone. He is capable."

"You would leave the naugrim?" Ardhel asked.

"They value family more than gold." Eol replied. "and I have been blind for too long."

it was all too much. Ardhel felt her legs give out and Eol went down with her until husband and wife were sitting, she in his lap, facing the fire.

"Why?" she asked again.

"Maeglin is unhappy." Eol said. "He believes he is meant for great things. I cannot give him great things. Gondolin can. You miss your brother. In truth to hear you speak of it, it sounds beautiful. There is much I can learn from your kin, loathe though I might be."

This was happening. It really was happening.

"We will need to prepare provisions." Ardhel said absently. "Maeglin must be informed."

"I give you that task," Eol said wryly. "for if I try to tell him, there's sure to be a fight."

Ardhel chuckled and realized she was crying. "They will not believe it. The court of Gondolin, I mean."

"My dear wife, by the time we are fully settled and our son has earned his place I assure you, I will set all of Gondolin on its very pointy ears."

Ardhel could do nothing but laugh. That was the irreverant, no-frills elf she had fallen in love with- the Eol who was mostly dwarf.  "Yes, my husband," she managed through her chuckles, "yes, you will."

[greenekangaroo]

The Hidden Way- AU Gondolin

Idril's secret tunnel had to be dug, and she could not ask the House of the Mole. It's a good thing her Uncle had a way with Dwarves.

---

"You asked to see me, my Lady?"

Idril started, one pale hand over her chest. Then she laughed a breathless laugh. "When I asked for subtlety," she told the shadows of her balcony, "I suppose I should have suspected something like this."

From the darkness her uncle emerged, smiling slightly. The sun had already dropped below the mountain; his hood and mask were down. "Well, as you said, my lady. You did request subtlety."

"And if I were to ask the guard, I'm sure none of them could tell me from whence you came, or how you got in?" Idril asked, one fine brow lifted.

"Not a one, my Lady." Eol replied. He bowed. "What would you have of me, my niece?"

Idril gestured for her uncle to follow her. She sat carefully in one of the two rose-colored chairs that faced the balcony, nodding to the tea between. She had grown with Tuor's child, and now had an obvious swell about her womb. Eol sat carefully but did not drink.

"Please, have some tea." Idril said.

"You do not sleep." Eol said.

Idril was quiet.

"Often I see you pacing, when I wander at night. You are worrying your husband, and your father. Both of whom, I note, are sequestered in a meeting that will likely last all night, for how my son will hem and haw."

"There are shadows which dance on my mind." she said.

"Shadows your Man came dragging." Eol replied.

Idril's eyes flashed with indignation. "My husband-"

"Is right." Eol said. Idril fell silent. "May I tell you what I believe you have asked me here for, my Lady?"

Idril gestured limply with one hand.

"You fear for your father's sanity." Eol said shortly. "As do I. He is obsessed with this city, this fortress he has built, his Valinor outside of Valinor. His mind deteriorates with thoughts of impregnability and grandeur."

Such insults to the king should have driven his daughter to defend him, but it spoke of Idril's deep dread that she nodded for Eol to continue.

"That the Lord Tuor spoke your fears, and that your father rebuked them, fills you with dark thoughts." Eol said. "You do not trust these stone walls. For the child you carry, and the people you love for all you are a woman and cannot inherit, you would find a way out of these caged mountains."

Idril allowed herself one small smile. "You are too clever by half, my Uncle." she said quietly. "Can you tell me then why I come to speak to you, not to my delvers, the House of the Mole?"

"You do not trust my son." Eol's voice was heavy with resignation, and sadness, and something like fear. Idril reached over and touched his hand. He squeezed her fingers. "He grows farther from me and Ardhel, my Lady." the dark elf said. "Once, I could reach his ears, but ever since he returned from his last delve, he is somewhere far away. Not even little Erestor brings a smile to his face now."

Idril nodded. "Forgive me." she said quietly. "I cannot trust Lord Maeglin."

"You are right not to." Eol said, with all the good sense he had. "I have him watched. Glorfindel does, as well, but our people find nothing."

This made Idril feel a measure better, that the Lord of the Golden Flower also suspected some dark design.

"but to the matter," Eol continued. "You cannot ask the House of the Mole and so you ask me, for it is no secret that I have long been a friend of the Khazad."

Idril nodded. "I do." she said. "You know stone, my Lord- as much as Maeglin and better. I ask you to find and prepare a tunnel, a sealed hidden way, which I will show to the ladies of the court to ease their minds. I wish for you to create an exit, if we must flee. I ask you to do this knowing that my Lord Father would not sanction it, knowing that it would be called treason and knowing that if we are discovered, he might very well put you to death at Carag Dur."

Eol was quiet, for a few moments. He closed his eyes and opened them again. "I'll need a crew, niece." he said. "As skilled as I am, I cannot create such a tunnel alone."

"You will have it." Idril replied. "There are willing members of the House of the Wing, and even amongst the House of the King. if the House of the Golden Flower could also be of aid, it would strengthen our cause even more."

"You believe they will follow a half-mad avari smith?" Eol asked, only partially in jest. Idril nodded. "They will." she said. "In our meetings we considered names for the Masters of such a work. They would have none but you."

"It is an honor, I suppose, for all its weight and sorrow." Eol said. "Then I will do this for you, Idril Celebrindal. There will be a secret way, and I will craft it with all the skill I possess."

"Then it will be a marvel indeed." Idril replied. Eol took her hand and kissed it, then stood and kissed her forehead. "Sleep, my niece." he said quietly. "Fear no darkness. The stars are too numerous for one to be frightened of the night."

Idril stood and embraced him. "You are a strange elf, Uncle." she said into his shoulder. "Yet you comfort me."

Eol smiled. "I am glad of it. Rest, my Lady. I have work to do." he went to the balcony and slipped over the railing. Idril knew that even if she approached now, she would not see him climbing down the castle's sides, a black smudge in the even blacker smudges of shadow.

She took a deep breath and looked up to the night sky. The stars were indeed too numerous to count.

"Varda protect us," she whispered, and then went to find what sleep she could.

[greenekangaroo]

The Masterless Master- AU Gondolin

There are loyal servants, willing soldiers, eager Lords. then there's Eol.

---

Eol was not really a part of the King's House.

Of course officially, on paper, he was- Lord Eol, married to Lady Ardhel, of the House of Turgon. Yet Eol, who never wore the silks and fur trims that befitted such a station, seemed so unlike any noble elf in the court that it wasn't uncommon for those who didn't know him by sight to inquire of him as though he were a servant. Eol, of course, found this endlessly amusing, and often helped the elves until someone- often another horrified servant- immediately corrected the error.

Ecthelion was concerned. "My Lady, about your husband," he would begin, and Ardhel would roll her eyes and listen patiently as the fretful Lord of the Fountain told her of her husband's latest misadventure in the market or sudden appearance in the forges of the house of the Hammer of Wrath.

"Eol is a law unto himself," she would answer, "and that is that."

Eol roamed the city at will, every nook and cranny. From the houses of the lowly laborers to the intricate gardens of the house of the Golden Flower, all was his domain. It was impossible to keep Eol out of a place he wished to be, for Salagant of the Harp had tried- and failed, to such an amazing extent that betting had gone on for a time and some of the soldiers of the King's House had become richer for his folly.

 Eol worked by himself most often, in a small forge that had gone unused in a part of the King's Yards. It was not unheard of that he aided the House of the Mole with their endeavors, or sometimes tended the children of other Houses. The children were fascinated by Eol and often spent many long hours attempting to coax him into taking off his odd hood and mask, so that he might enjoy the sun with them.

Some, of course, thought Eol entirely mad. He acted so strangely, so impulsively. He went out of his way to avoid the sun, even staying far from events where, as Ardhel's husband, he was expected. He would sit in trees and have long conversations with ravens. He went riding the mail chutes! 

Then, of course, there was the problem of Ardhel.

There was no small part of the nobility that had been enraged when an avari smith laid claim to a noldorian Lady, without the proper rites followed or dowries given. To quiet those protestors the Lord and Lady had their own quiet ceremony, attended by princess Idril and the King. The paperwork was drawn up, very official. It did not quiet the angered ones completely, but it helped.

If the ceremony did not end their grumbling, the sword did.

It was a marvel, all gleaming silver steel. Turgon's emblem was etched into crossguard, and an emerald as pure as green glass was set to the pommel. It was given, as all of Eol's gifts, abruptly and with a note, left one morning for Turgon as he prepared to begin the day.

For the theft of your sister, I offer compensation.

It shocked the steward, seemed brazen to the chambermaid, and Penlod thought it downright insulting. Turgon merely laughed. "Such a strange brother I've acquired." he said to his vassal. "Let us see how this blade hews." 

A single pass and Turgon's eyes widened. Another and he was quiet as a newfallen snow. Leaving orders for Penlod to begin the council meeting without him the King descended to the Yards, where he could hear a hammer's steady rise and fall.

Turgon waited for a natural pause in the work before saying, "I would speak with you, my brother."

Eol glanced up and nodded. He set his work aside and said, "Is it to your liking?"

Turgon smiled. "Never, in all my long life, have I beheld a blade so fine." He said quietly, "and I do not jest, nor do I lie, when I say to you that not even Feanor could craft such a sword. You are truly peerless."

Eol's brow rose. "High praise indeed." he said. "Though I hope you never have to use it, I am glad it suits your needs. Do you wish to know its name?"

Turgon was surprised. "Is it not the custom of Doriath for a warrior to name his sword?" he asked.

"Aye, that is the way." Eol said. "But for my own oddities, I find the weapons name themselves, and there's little I can do to prevent it."

Turgon laughed at this. "Then tell me the name of this magnificent blade." he said.

"Glamdring." Eol replied. "The foe-hammer."

"A fine name." Turgon said with a nod.

"It seemed to think so."

Turgon laughed again. "In all my long life," he said, "I do not think I have ever met someone quite so odd as you."

"Would you believe that's not the first time anyone has said that to me?" Eol asked.

"I would indeed. You are a Master amongst Masters." Turgon was quiet. "for the gift of this sword, I would ask what you desire."

Eol shrugged. "I have the hand of my wife. I have a forge, a city to explore, new craft to learn, stuffy elves to bother. There's nothing else I truly need."

"There must be something." Turgon insisted.

Eol was quiet for a moment. "There is." he said at last. "but if I ask it of you, I'm afraid I'll overstep my already well-travelled terrain of insulting fine Noldorian manners."

"How would you know, if you did not ask?" Turgon replied, sensibly.

Eol smiled. "I suppose I wouldn't. Well, then." He caught Turgon's eye. "Of each of your vassals you require an oath. You asked it of my son and he gladly gave it. You have not asked me- perhaps because by marriage you already have right to my loyalty. What I ask is that you never request of me that oath."

Turgon's brow furrowed. "You ask that I do not demand your loyalty?" he asked.

"No. I ask that you do not bind me, as you have your other Lords bound. Here I am, by your law. I am happy. But if you were to ask the King of Doriath now, you would know that I made the same request of him, and it was because of it that I guarded Nan Elmoth. I have lived my life happily without being thrall to anyone, and my loyalties are mine to give, and mine to control. You have them, happily for how you accepted my son, and accepted me. I do not jest when I say I would die for you, King Turgon- but as your friend, your sister-brother, not as a vassal oathbound."

It was not the answer Turgon had expected, and he thought for long moments. Eol allowed him that.

"Very well." he said at last. "I shall have it known, and written. May you be ever a Masterless Master, Moriquendi- ruled only by your own heart."

This was how Eol Moriquendi, the Dark Elf of Gondolin, became known as the Masterless Master; songs are still sung of his peerless craft, his strange habits, his freedom to love and fight and die for whom he wished.

---

A/N: AU Eol is much cheerier than canon Eol. In other news, Kangaroo jumps between flowery tolkien-esque prose and normal dialogue at the drop of a hat!

[greenekangaroo]

anyone have anything they'd like to see in AU Gondolin?

ideas would be nice.

[greenekangaroo]

Orphan- AU Gondolin

"I'm sorry, Erestor."

The Chief Councilor of Imladris furrowed a brow. "Whatever for?" he asked softly, turning from his window to look at the golden-haired elf sitting across from his desk. Glorfindel- once of Gondolin, now, it would seem, of Imladris- raised his head and Erestor could see the tears there. They would not fall; since his return two months ago, Glorfindel had cried enough.

"I'm sorry," he said, "that you are an orphan now."

It sounded much more trite than he'd wanted it to. It didn't encompass all of his sorrow, the heaviness of the memories and pain.

Erestor merely looked confused. "Glorfindel, I am no orphan." he said.

The blonde elf smiled. "No, I suppose not." he said quietly. "This place seems so warm. like one large family. It's so strange. I feel as though I've been here all my life when I only arrived last night."

"This is true," Erestor said, "but Glorfindel-" he came around the edge of the desk and took Glorfindel's hands. "..Uncle. I am not an orphan."

Glorfindel's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Erestor tugged and Glorfindel went. They came to the tall glass doors that would lead out onto the balcony and Erestor pushed them open, leading Glorfindel out into the warm midsummer afternoon.

"Listen, Glorfindel." Erestor said. "What do you hear?"

Glorfindel didn't see the point in the strange request but obediently he turned his attentions to his ears. Imladris was full of the sound of rushing water and music, bustling bakers and laundresses and carpenters. It was so different from Gondolin, and from Lindon where he had spent the first month of his reborn life.

"I hear nothing special, Erestor. The goings-on of the household, why?"

"Listen harder." Erestor urged. "And tell me what you hear."

Glorfindel sighed and did as commanded. He listened harder.

His eyes flew open.

It was there, underneath all the other sounds- a steady beat, constant as a drum, running on five five time. It was the clanging of a blacksmith's hammer.

One-TWO-THREE-four-FIVE-one-TWO-THREE-four-FIVE.The cadence repeated without a single pause or hiccup.

Glorfindel turned to Erestor, who was smiling, tears touching his own eyes.

"The smithies are by the southern wall." he said, voice thick. "If you run, you can catch him before he leaves."

Glorfindel said nothing. He turned and ran.

The grounds of Imladris were entirely unknown to Glorfindel; he had only gotten a partial tour the night before, exhausted as he and Gildor's troupe had been from the long road between the realms. It didn't seem to matter as he ran through courtyards and halls, up and down stairs, always following that five-five beat, which was steadily getting louder.

He turned a corner and there, as if he'd merely moved from one forge to another, Erestor's father put his form back into the fire to heat. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a rag and turned to survey the small yard.

He caught sight of Glorfindel.

His hair was longer. Glorfindel thought perhaps he could see a deeper weariness in the black eyes. The hand that came up to wrench the hood of the tunic up was just as calloused as it had been, and his strides were just as long and determined as they were in Gondolin.

Eol the Moriquendi pulled Glorfindel into a hug so tight it was entirely possible that ribs were breaking, but Glorfindel couldn't bring himself to care. He had thought he was done with tears but a few more escaped and though he still didn't speak dwarvish, for Eol had refused to teach him, it didn't take a master of the tongue to know the words that the dark elf was repeating, over and over, were 'my friend, my friend.'

And no, Erestor was not an orphan, and Glorfindel felt, for the first time, that the world was not so big and lonely as he had believed.