The House of the Heavenly Arch was the wealthiest of Gondolin's homes, rumored to have more coin and jewels than even King Turgon himself. They were never one to truly flaunt the depths of their stores, even if they were the House to keep the city running and its sole bank flush with funds. The Heavenly Arch believed in investments, from the lessons for a common born musician, to paying the House of the Hammer of Wrath both to fortify Gondolin and its armory and to forge beautiful creations to hold the Heavenly Arch's jewels, to ensuring each elfling, no matter their status, would be educated in Quenya and Sindarian, uniting a population that could so easily be divided by its founding families.
The Heavenly Arch's most beloved treasures could not be found in crown, sword, ring, or necklace. Their most valuable assets were the three ruling siblings. Egalmoth was the eldest, the Lord of the House, and the commander of their forces. His sister, Ithilwen, handled all legal matters, from contracts to apprenticeships to loaning and leasing transactions. The youngest sibling, Erestor, was newly come to his majority and yet already showed the type of sharp strategic mind envied by most of his elders in Turgon's Court.
Many of the noble families considered Erestor's hand a prize. Egalmoth was tied to Penlod and the House of the Pillar. Ithilwen was long betrothed, though most knew she was privately married, to Glorfindel of the Golden Flower. Erestor was not privately married, betrothed, or promised in any other way and therefore his future spouse was the source of much speculation. He was the last of the first generation of Gondolin's noble elves to come to majority, and currently the focus of attention for all in the city.
The Gondolindrim had developed a complex celebration for an elf's majority. It was a combination of Vanyar, Noldor, and Sindar traditions, born over the sea, modified in Vinyamar, and changed to fit Gondolin's unique society. They had pushed the age of majority from fifty years to one hundred. An elf was still considered mostly grown at the age of fifty, but could not settle on a career until sixty, were still under their family's rule until seventy-five, and even once they officially reached the age of one hundred, if they were a noble they would have to wait another year and a day to be considered a full member of the Court. Such an occasion was marked by a grand ball hosted by King Turgon. It was a celebration of life, and the future, and all they have survived. It ensured that noble elves weren't lured into unacceptable betrothals. The event honored the Court, since the elf of the hour had to be accompanied by a member of a different noble house, and had to spend the first official night of their adulthood as a member of the King's Court with a fellow noble. It was called the Rites of the First Night and while few elves suffered under the disillusion that an elf, having been considered an adult for the better part of a half-century, would honestly lay with their first lover that night, it was still about the honor of it all.
Honor, of course, was its own valuable currency in Gondolin.
Erestor hated it. The pomp and circumstance and the idea of being at the center of the Court's attention, feeling like a prize for ambitious parents and guardians to fight over. It was his role to play though, and he understood it, and knew well who he wanted to ask to accompany him on such a night. He had just passed his hundredth year. He had two months to decide on an escort so the decorations, music, and menu could be tailored to the honored houses, he had a year and a day until the celebration came to pass.
He knew who he wanted to ask.
The only problem was, despite his sharp mind, wit, and tongue, he had no idea how.
Erestor trailed behind Ithilwen, his steps slowing as she sped up, not overly eager to be dragged out among the crowds and subjected to so many whispers. He had little choice in the matter; his brother was newly returned from a mission outside the walls of the city and it would be the highest insult not to greet him. There was no way yet to travel between their home and that of King Turgon's sight unseen, so Erestor would just have to endure it. He was eager to see his brother again, whole, hale, and safe.
Ithilwen had no such hesitations as she reached for Erestor's hand and tugged him forward. He did not deride his sister's joy; it'd been months since she'd seen Glorfindel and they'd both earned a long reunion. Even Erestor could admit he was eager to see his law-brother again, an elf always full of an amusing tale to take Erestor's mind off any troubles.
It was the third member of the returning party that caused him to drag his feet. Ecthelion. Loyal, handsome, talented, kind Ecthelion. Erestor had fancied himself a little in love with Ecthelion since he was a child. As he grew older those feelings hadn't faded, merely changed into something that felt deeper; truer in its own way, as he learned more of the private elf as Ecthelion rather than the Lord of the Fountains. And now here he was, a week past his majority, a year to prepare for the celebration which made him an official adult member of Turgon's court, in need of an escort for that night, and required to choose from one of the noble Houses. And then, during that horribly embarrassing celebration, to choose one member of the court to accompany him for the Rites of the First Night. Often, but not always, the choice was one and the same. It had been for Egalmoth when he'd chosen Rog; for Ithilwen when she'd chosen Glorfindel; Erestor hoped it would be the same for him.
If he could manage to ask Ecthelion, of course.
Erestor had never been at a loss for words. He didn't speak at length, nor was he the type of rambling fool like his law-brother, but words and speeches came easy to him. He was hailed by his instructors for his skill at debate and his quick wit. King Turgon himself had complimented Erestor on the clear steadiness and cadence of his voice after hearing him give a report. Lady Aredhel often summoned him to advise on smaller matters of the Court. He had the approval of the city's most respected scholars and of most leaders of its noble houses.
And yet he had spent the entire half-year Egalamoth, Glorfindel, and Ecthelion had been gone trying and failing to compose the proper words to ask Ecthelion to be his escort. Or his lover. Hopefully both, but he'd settled for escort now. He could be patient for the other. Just the thought of it made his heart race.
"Erestor, let us not tarry," Ithilwen said as she pulled him down their private path which led to the city center.
Theirs was one of the grandest homes in all of Gondolin, second only to the King's palace, and took up much of the eastern side of the city. Once they approached the Grand Market, drew nearer to the King's home, and were in the eyes of the public, they would be pillars of decorum. For now though, Erestor could feel Ithilwen's excitement and ran along the path with her as if they were both much younger, eager to see the new wares in the market brought from Outside.
Erestor had never been outside the walls. When their parents departed the city, before Turgon declared finally that none should leave and return without the King's express consent, they had asked him to come with them, to move to a city he'd never known, under a king he'd never met, forever parted from his siblings. He had chosen Gondolin and knew that if the offer was made now he would still make the same choice. Of course he was curious about life beyond the Gates, but Gondolin was enough for him.
The Grand Market was full of people as they passed through, though many parted as they saw Ithilwen, her head held high and even her modest dress still glistening with gold and silver thread. She was a leader of the wealthiest noble house. She was the wife of the beloved Glorfindel. And she was widely respected for choosing duty over desire, returning to her brother's home to raise her younger sibling, forgoing her own marriage bed for the betterment of Gondolin's future. At least that's how Erestor heard it among the gossips in the archive's halls. In truth, Erestor knew Ithilwen only 'lived' in the House of the Heavenly Arch when she considered herself on duty. Glorfindel's home was kept as her sanctuary, with a staff eager to see their beloved lady at peace when she walked through their halls. In the approach of his majority, Ithilwen had spent much of the past decade at home, but all those closest to her knew that her nights were usually spent behind the protective garden walls of the Golden Flower.
Ithilwen slowed her pace as they approached the palace. Her head was now bowed in respectful reverence and Erestor mirrored his sister's actions. It would not be right to appear too familiar with the royal family, too comfortable inside the palace walls. There would be no fodder for the gossips today, at least not those who lined the streets outside the palace and watched every move they made as they approached the guard at the steps.
Elemmakil stood on duty today and bowed low to them as he led them to the doors. He had a private smile of greeting once they were hidden under the main archway.
"Lady Ithilwen, lovely to see you as always." He nodded at Erestor. "Young Lord Erestor. Have you decided on your escort yet?"
"Still debating," Erestor said.
Elemmakil grinned. "I would offer my own arm, but Voronwe can be quite jealous."
Erestor smiled in return. "I am honored by the offer, but do not wish to incur the wrath of your betrothed."
"Nor I that of our glorious Lord of the Fountain," Elemmakil said. He banged twice on the door and ignored Erestor's incredulous look. "Please give your brothers my love. Life has been so quiet without them."
"Some would say that is a good thing," Erestor muttered.
"But we grow so bored in the barracks," Elemmakil said as the wide doors opened to the palace square. He escorted them up the lane to the main doors of the king's home. "Presenting Lady Ithilwen and Lord Erestor of the House of the Heavenly Arch!"
His announcement was merely for the sake of decorum. They were strangers to none here.
They bowed their heads respectfully as they passed through the arch of King Turgon's home. As members of the court they were, in some respects, always welcome inside. It was one thing to wander in the public areas of the palace however, and quite another to pass through to the royal family's living quarters, so they would have to bide their time out in the main hall.
Erestor eyed a group of courtiers on one side of the sitting area and turned to Ithilwen with a desperate look. He did not wish to make idle conversation this day. Ithilwen winked at him. She gave the gathered group a respectful nod of acknowledgement and then took Erestor's arm. She led him over to one of the indoor fountains, Ecthelion's design of course, and took her seat on the stone rim as if it was her own throne. Erestor took his place beside her and tried his hardest not to laugh as lesser courtiers bowed low to Ithilwen's very presence.
"It is ridiculous," Erestor said for his sister's ears alone.
Ithilwen kept a smile on her face as she nodded to a passing group of ladies from the House of the Harp. "It is politics," she whispered. "Most of these elves may not be able to stand me, but they respect our wealth and they respect Glorfindel's family ties."
Glorfindel who was kin to both Noldor and Vanyar royalty and rumored to be favored by the Valar themselves. Ecthelion was also said to hold such favor, though the House of the Fountain was only kin to a royal house of the Teleri, Ecthelion's mother one of their princesses and his father a revered lord of the Noldor. Both were trusted confidants and favorites of King Turgon, and along with Egalmoth and Penlod, comprised the handful of Turgon's close circle, with ties of brotherhood forged long before Gondolin's very foundations.
It was easy to forget sometimes, in the face of Glorfindel's silliness or Ecthelion's kindness or Egalmoth's squawking about like a troubled mother hen, that they were some of the highest respected Noldor in all of Beleriand. Erestor wondered if he was sometimes aiming too high for Ecthelion, and whenever he dared to utter such Ithilwen took cares to remind me him who he was, what family he came from, and to hold his head high. He did so now, straightening up under the curious gazes of the elves who studied every breath they took.
"What do they think we plan on doing?" Erestor asked.
"I'm certain some think we're here to sell you off to Idril," Ithilwen said.
Erestor could've laughed. As if King Turgon would see his beloved daughter married to any elf of unequal standing. As if Idril would ever accept someone she didn't truly love. As if Aredhel would allow a forced marriage upon her beloved niece.
"Our princess is not to your liking?" Ithilwen asked. "Perhaps Aredhel then."
Erestor felt his face drop. "She'd destroy me."
"In seconds," Ithilwen agreed.
A familiar face entered the hall then, coming from the private quarters, adorned in a worn leather apron and soot still covering her face.
"Noriel!" Ithilwen greeted Rog's wife with true joy. "It's not often we see you out of the forges during the daylight."
Noriel nodded as she took a seat beside them. "Idril's begetting day is soon. Aredhel has us fashioning a new circlet for her. I had to take some final measurements." She pulled off her work gloves and stretched out her legs, face turned towards the cool breeze coming down the mountains. "I so like to breathe the fresh air."
"Surely you can escape the forges more often," Erestor said.
Noriel shrugged. "I love my work. And my husband. The forges are my life. I was raised in them over the sea, our children will be raised in them here."
"And conceived in them," Ithilwen muttered.
Noriel grinned. "We enjoy watching each other at work."
Erestor shook his head. "That's not dangerous at all." Fire pits and burning metal held little attraction for him.
"That is part of the fun," Noriel teased. She patted Erestor's knee. "You'll learn, soon enough." She lowered her voice. "Ecthelion so loves the quarries."
Erestor hid his face in his hands. "Does everyone know of my affection for him?"
"Everyone except Ecthelion, I suspect," Noriel said. She pulled Erestor into a motherly embrace. "Take heart, clever Erestor. I truly think only your brothers speak of such, and not to Ecthelion's ears. My husband keeps nothing from me, and it is better he shares his gossip in our marriage bed rather than out in the market."
Erestor let himself relax in her hold for just a moment, missing the comfort of his own mother's arms, before resuming a more respectful position.
"If you do win your heart's desire, I so hope you will come to us to forge the rings," Noriel said. "Rog has already drawn up some designs for your shared insignia."
"And we cannot disappoint Rog," Erestor joked.
Noriel nodded in agreement. "I should get back to him before he lets the boys destroy the glass blowing station. I can't leave them unsupervised for too long." She hugged them both before standing. "We must have dinner soon. Before all the preparations destroy your better humor."
"As soon as those three come out of their meeting I'll see to preparing a proper feast," Ithilwen promised.
Noriel winked at her. "After you properly greet Glorfindel's return, of course."
Ithilwen waved her off. "Be gone, you. None of that here."
Noriel departed in a cloud of laughter and soot, leaving both Erestor and Ithilwen with grins on their faces.
The bells for the midday meal had rung while they were still waiting for the others to return. Erestor and Ithilwen followed a line of courtiers into the banquet hall to find tables and plates laid out for the Court. The King's seat remained empty on its dais, but Idril mingled among them, greeting all gathered parties at their chosen tables, easily crossing the unspoken territory lines.
Ithilwen chose one of the tables in the outdoor garden, close enough to another large fountain to bask in the cool mist of the mountain water, but also far enough to avoid most of the others. They were still there, still present and proper, but removed in such a way that clearly showed they desired some privacy.
Penlod, Egalmoth's husband and their other law-brother, appeared from the archives. His stately robes of office seemed far too heavy on such a warm day, but Penlod showed no hint of it until he took his seat between them, his plate piled high with fresh fruit. His knees almost disrupted the table as he bent his large form to fit in the chair, but fit he did.
"Thank Ulmo for cool water," Penlod said. He tugged open his high collar. "I should've been a warrior. Parading around in hose and tunic must be more comfortable."
"You should start a new fashion trend among the scholars," Ithilwen said, her eyes lighting up with mischief. "Imagine the scandal."
Penlod softy laughed. "Your brother has pinched my ass enough when I've been bent over a desk studying some map. Let us not encourage him to do so in public."
"Oh, but it makes him so happy," Ithilwen said.
"A nuisance more like," Penold said, though his eyes betrayed his affection. He turned to Erestor. "I saw your latest research proposal. Quite an undertaking, dear brother, to gather all the history and tales of the folk of the Tree. Who has offered to speak with Galdor on your behalf?"
Erestor would always be a little in awe of Penlod. Here was the master scholar of their city, though he never held himself above others. The thrill of study motivated Penlod, and he was always eager to nurture that joy in like-minded souls. Erestor would never be the greatest of swordsman or bowmaster, though he could admire those skills in others. But Penlod? That was an elf Erestor could try his best to emulate in deed and word.
"None have offered yet," Erestor admitted. He knew some of the senior scribes thought he was aiming too high with this project. It would require years of dedication, but Erestor was committed. It was important to him that the Sindar be just as remembered and honored in their archives as the Noldor.
"Hmm," Penlod said as he picked up a slice of apple. "I, of course, cannot make the request as those with idle minds will cry over nepotism. I'll just have to mention something to Legolas then. Surely he'd gladly pass on the word to his uncle when not busy ogling my ward."
"That is too much to ask," Erestor protested.
Penlod waved him off. "If Branwen did not wish to see such a thing done, she would not have left the proposal on my desk."
"You have many connections, Erestor," Ithilwen said. "Treat them well, and they shall reward you."
"It seems a bit unfair," Erestor admitted.
Penlod nodded. "In many ways it is, but that is how our city runs. How they all do, truly. As long as you succeed on your hard work and merits, I do not think you should worry so over it. You have done well not to flaunt it in the past, and even your most bitterest of critics and rivals can't argue against your talents."
"And even if you were the kindest elf in the city, there would be those who hate you for no other reason than your family house," Ithilwen said. "The gift and the burden of our life."
Penlod silently nodded in agreement.
Erestor knew there was a cost to it all, that he'd have a higher price to pay than many others in his scribe class, and that's why he'd been determined to prove any of his naysayers wrong.
It was determination Eglamoth always praised him for, one Ithilwen always encouraged, and one Glorfindel promised would see him through the twists and turns of court-life.
"It will get worse," Erestor said.
"Oh, but there will be some glorious rewards," Penlod promised.
After they'd all eaten their fill they resumed their places in the entrance hall. Penlod joined them now, flipping through his ledger and muttering to himself about roster changes in the archives.
"What could they possibly still be talking about?" Erestor asked.
Ithilwen gave an inelegant snort. "They've probably helped themselves to one of the King's best vintages and have started on another round."
"Your husband is a horrible influence," Penlod said as he nodded in agreement.
Ithilwen shrugged. "He does like a good toast."
"He would toast each change of the wind and call of a bird if allowed," Penlod said. He looked up from his ledger and paused. "Though he rarely drinks around you."
"I do not like the smell or taste," Ithilwen said. "So he may toast the birds and the sun and the moon as long as he washes away the remnants of it before taking to our bed."
Movement on the stairs caught Erestor's eye. "I think they've finally finished."
An escort of guards appeared, mantles glittering in the sunlight seeping in through the high windows, as King Turgon paused at the top of the stairs. He graced their group with a bow of his head and a more familiar grin before heading towards the banquet hall. Egalmoth, Glorfindel, and Ecthelion trailed behind him, their cheeks all a little ruddier than normal, testament to having consumed more than a few cups of wine in the King's presence.
They were all still in their travel clothes and in need of a proper scrub to wash off the travel dust. Ecthelion stood the tallest among them, his dark hair pulled back in a single braid down his back. Glorfindel took his place in the middle, golden hair loose and flashing in the light, though duller than its usual glorious shine. Egalmoth stood the shortest of them, though broader in shoulders, with his hair shorn closer to shoulders. It'd grown since his last cut, a drastic chop to his chin, after complaining of it too often getting stuck in his bow. It was stark proof of just how long the three had been gone.
"Steady now," Ithilwen whispered as they waited. All attention had to remain on King Turgon until he departed. Erestor knew she said it more to herself than anyone else, but even Erestor was eager to finally be reunited with the others.
After one final private word to the three warriors, King Turgon entered the banquet hall with his escort and most of the Court. The entrance hall felt too quiet suddenly with so many voices gone and nothing left but the scuff of boots upon the stone floor as Egalmoth, Glorfindel, and Ecthelion walked over to them.
Penlod stood first, Erestor and Ithilwen following him, deferring to his place as the lord of his home. There were still some eyes of them, still people lingering to catch a bit of gossip, and they would try their best to deny them such a prize. Though Erestor knew there was little hope in controlling Glorfindel who had long ago dismissed the opinions of everyone except those he loved and respected.
Egalmoth approached his siblings first as Ecthelion greeted Penlond. Egalmoth was stately in his embrace, patting Erestor's shoulder and kissing Ithilwen on the cheek. He remained the height of decorum even as he embraced Penlod. Glorfindel had no such qualms, or shame, as he hugged both Penlond and Erestor tightly, and completely picked Ithilwen up off her feet.
"Could it be that my darling wife missed me?" Glorfindel asked, spinning Ithilwen around as if she weighed nothing.
"Perhaps if you put her down she will answer," Ithilwen said, her voice stern but her eyes full of love.
Erestor shook his head at their antics.
"Ever the same, those two," Ecthelion said as he glided over to Erestor's side. His smooth voice sent a shiver down Erestor's spine. "Even if separated for a day they act as if it's been a year."
"Then perhaps we should praise their restraint," Erestor said.
Ecthelion's eyes lit up and he laughed. "Oh yes, masters of decorum those two." He ducked his head, long dark braid slipping down his shoulder. "I am sorry we missed your begetting day."
"I had a lovely meal with Ithilwen and a day off from my duties," Erestor said. "Though Egalamoth will probably plan some dinner now that you've returned."
"I would hope so," Ecthelion said. "Or I will have to invite myself over to bring your gifts."
"Ecthelion, you have no need to give me any gifts," Erestor said.
Ecthelion frowned. "And ruin a now century long tradition? No," he said with a shake of his head. "You deserve presents. You would not rebuff me by refusing?"
Erestor would do just about anything he asked of him, and he couldn't stand that sad look on his face, even if he knew it was in nothing but jest.
"Your presents and your gifts are always welcome in my home," Erestor said.
Ecthelion's brilliant smile made Erestor's breath catch in his throat. He struggled to form words and could've kicked himself for his sudden thick tongue.
"Thank the Valar you've returned to us, whole and hale," he finally said, grateful that he managed not to stumble over his words.
Ecthelion's face softened. "Were you worried?"
Of the unknown world outside the walls? "Only a fool would not be," Erestor said.
Ecthelion laughed. "True words always fall so gracefully from your tongue, Erestor. You are right, of course." He gripped Erestor's shoulder. "Your brothers and I have lived outside these walls, and know more of the ways in the Wild than the others. We would not so easily let harm come our way." His hand cupped Erestor's cheek. "Though it warms my heart to know we were in your prayers."
"Ecthelion, let the boy be before he turns to flames!" Glorfindel called, already at the doors and ready to depart. "I, for one, am in need of a bath."
"And a swift kick to the backside," Ecthelion said to him.
"Or the head," Erestor agreed.
Ecthelion's eyes sparkled with mirth as he eagerly nodded his agreement. He held his arm out to Erestor, an offer of an escort through the city streets. "Shall we?" he asked.
Erestor smirked and held his own arm out, offering to lead Ecthelion to his home. "Only if you insist."
Ecthelion's startled laugh filled the entrance hall, loud enough to draw Idril's amused gaze from the dining hall.
Erestor's smile stayed on his face, even after he'd seen Ecthelion to the House of the Fountain and had returned to his own home.