Gwindor
Long years I have prayed to return to my people in Nargothrond, to what remained of my family and friends. I bring Turin with me and I find myself prattling about everything. It's a bad habit I know, but I fell into it while he was still bewitched by his grief and I find it difficult to stop.
The forest surrounding Nargothrond has grown and changed in my years of slavery, but I know it still. The first signs of the guard are evident only to me as they are very secret around Turin. I remember them being very careful around strangers. Good King Finrod will welcome the human I am sure of it.
When the guard surround us I am surprised, but I know they will be more so when they realize who they have. I would run but my crippled body makes my run strange and weird and my pride would not allow it. Especially when Turin, tall and straight as an arrow, stands at my side.
"Speak your business elf. What do you and this human do in the realm of Nargothrond?"
The captain, an elf I know slightly, demands in hard gritting tones. His eyes are hard and distant, the kind of look reserved for those who are not friends. I feel all of their eyes raking my bent and twisted frame, but for the moment all I can think of is their words.
My heart leaps, but I quiet my fears and hold my hand up in peace, "Surely you know me? I am Gwindor, son of Guilin. My brother was Gelmir slain at Angeband."
But they do not lower their bows or relax their stance. I see no light of recognition in their eyes, no hint of understanding when I speak of my family. Only the disgust at what remains of my body. Surely, surely they are not…
"Please Captain, tell me if my family now lives? If they have died please take me to their graves." I plead, but the Captain remains immovable.
"I think that would be impossible. You cannot go passed these borders without giving knowledge of who you are and what your busy is." The Captain states.
Suddenly, I feel all the impatience of decades crashing down on me. My breathing quickens and I remember the weight of the miles of stone that buried me alive in Angeband for countless years. Turin murmurs something to me, but I don't hear him. I push him away in anger.
"Will no one answer me? Am I so strange to you that I do not receive a plain answer? Take me to your king, he will know me!" I demand. I am shaking and all my old wound begin to ache anew, they have never truly healed.
Finally, the captain nods and he bides Turin and I to follow him. The guard surround us and even though it is insulting I know that as soon as Finrod sees me he will chide them enough for their mistake.
People of the court point and stare and I see so many familiar faces that I dreamt of all those long years. I nod and would smile, but my mouth is twisted in such a way that the gesture is grotesque. So I try and convey my happiness in other ways. But they all shy away and turn way as though I was making free with something that was not mine. In their eyes is reflection pity, and veil scorn. I turn away and try to see only the world around me.
The halls are more beautiful then I remember them and for a time I can only drink in all the sights of my home. The court of Finrod will always be the fairest in my mind and I take delight in explaining everything to Turin. The expression of wonder on his face makes my own happiness at the return even greater. Perhaps this place will be a home to him as well.
"His Majesty, King Orodreth will see you now. What name will you give?" The captain's voice breaks into my thoughts.
"Orodreth? What on earth do you mean? Lord King Finrod is the ruler of Nargothrond or have you forgotten that?" I am too happy to realize what this change could mean. I walk as quickly as I can without showing my crippled state.
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Turin
I want to stop him, to hold him back as he moves toward the elf enthroned before him. He cannot see, as I do that the elf does not know him. In this wondrous place of beauty Gwindor, my good companion and friend is more broken and frail then I have yet seen him. But nothing could hurt more then the confusion and pain on his face when he stops before the throne.
"My Lord Orodreth…I…what has happened?" his voice sounds cracked and broken in the vast hall.
The elf steps forward and holds out a hand saying, "Come my friend, what is this? Tell me your name and I will more readily answer your inquiry about my brother."
"But …I do not know what this means, but Lord Orodreth do you not know me? I am Gwindor of the house of Guilin and have served under your noble brother, king Finrod."
Gwindor moves forward and the elf cannot help but step away from the wreak that is my friend. A blush of shame stains his cheeks and he tries to cover his slip.
"Then it would grieve you to know Son of Guilin that my brother has died," Orodreth says and returns to his throne, "He died in the service of a son of men."
"Dead," Gwindor mouths the words again and his eyes cloud in confusion again, "Dead?"
I go to him and catch him as he sways slightly. He shakes me off, he is too proud to receive my help and I can understand why. The king, Orodreth asks his name again and he repeats it like he's never heard it before.
"Gwindor," he says brokenly, "Gwindor…"
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Gwindor
They do not know me.
They look at me as no more then the broken wreak that I am. Small and feeble after decades and decades of labor and torture. I feel Turin grab me and I lash out at him, I stumble away my eyes not seeing anything.
The candle light blurs before me and I feel the room is beginning to turn in a low. The people in their rich grab whisper and the sound seems magnified by the high walls of the room…the walls are so very high.
"Gwindor! Gwindor!" a voice is calling me. A voice that breaks with tears and love. Not Turin, not the king I do not know, not the steel voice of the captain.
"Gwindor! Is it you?" The voice is nearer and I can vaguely see a figure bending down over me.
I have fallen to my knees although I remember nothing. The figure is small and slightly before me clothed all in green and gold. No, the gold is not unyielding metal, but long tresses of hair.
"Gwindor, my poor Gwindor," she says and takes my face in her smooth white hands, "Have you come home at last?"
I look up into clear blue eyes that look back into mine, without fear, without revulsion. They are filled with tears, bight and liquid stars, so gentle and tender. A tear escapes and runs down her cheek and I reach out and touch it. The damp, hot tear and the cool soft cheek.
"Finduilas,"
She nods as more tears fall free and fast, and she pulls me into her arms, my head on her breast. I hold her close, the soft contours of her body so familiar and so different from my distorted one. Her hair against my cheek is like down and silk and smells so sweetly.
"My poor Gwindor. You will not leave me again," she says.
I do not even realize I am weeping until she wipes the tears away with her gentle hands. All the time drops away and I see my love, and she sees me. And she knows me beyond the scars and stain of years. I know her as if I had never lost sight of her.
"Never, for I have found all that is needful." I say and she holds me again and kisses my scarred lips never afraid.