turgon not beating the “cried at the gondolin glory holes the only time he went” allegations
The usual composed expression on the lord’s face seemed in that moment to crack as though it was ceramic slip in a kiln, a glimpse of both embarrassment’s keen sting and sorrow’s cold dampening surfacing. Turgon bit his tongue between cuspids. How was it the stranger knew such a thing? There was no telling.
To deny it would be to lie and to look overhasty, thus suspicious. To cast it aside as a joke would betray bitter tears he had wept. A hand lingered on the silver beads at the end of his long braids, rolling the textured metal between his fingertips.
“What manner of fool would repeat such a thing?” said Turgon. “Surely one with their wits about them, even one who frequented such amenities over which I might add I am lord, would know better than to trust rumor.”