Note: The Usual disclaimer.
I have drawn upon the Silmarillion and The Book of Lost Tales 2(for some detail) in the writing of this story. Thanks also to the assistance of Tolkien Gateway.
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Remember
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Summer, Year 525
My Son,
I did not know my father or even my mother. When I was young, I yearned to know them even so. I am told by many that my father was a great hero, yet that is not what the heart longs to know. Knowledge about the life events of a person is not the same as knowledge of the person.
The years lengthen here in Arvernien, and you are now a grown man. Our desperate escape from Gondolin must seem a distant memory for you. Your mother will not speak of it, nor will she stand near when I do, so instead I have decided to write down for you the things that you ought to remember.
Yestereve, when I asked you if you remembered your mother's father who was none other than the king of Gondolin, you thought for a while and asked if he was the one with the tall pointed helm who used to make you flutes. I said nay, and your mother began to cry. That was Ecthelion, the King's advisor who died fighting in the king's square against the great balrog.
I can understand your mother's tears. She does not understand the way our memories flounder with long distant events. You do not remember the great High King of the Noldor, King of Gondolin called 'The Wise' who was all of those things and so much more. He was your grandfather and his delight in you was shadowed only by grief of things beyond words.
To begin with, Turgon High King of the Noldor was tall, dark haired and grey eyed. But that will not tell you enough to distinguish him from any Noldo you might meet. I would have to say he was handsome, beautiful even, but that describes most of the Eldar also. He was not often wont to smile, save when in the presence of his family, and so tended to have a stern countenance. Gilgalad puts me in mind of him a little, with his fierce determination and resolute defiance of the enemy, but little in appearance, unless it be something around the eyes and brow. Turgon had much love for those around him and had much love returned. I came to love him as what I imagine it is to love a father. I like to think that he came to think of me as a son – strange though that may be given that he was of the Elder race and I was a mere mortal.
I have written these pages for you so that you will have a record for yourself and others that will remember more of the great Noldo who was King of Gondolin. The history books of the Eldar tend to record events with what seems to be little warmth, but this is not from coldness of heart as many may have thought, but from deep sorrow and loss that cannot bear to recall their grief to mind. But for you and I, these things are part of what makes these stories real and the people in them truly alive.
We must not forget that these stories record the events of those who lived and breathed and danced and slept and cried and laughed. And despaired. And were lost in the end. And it seems to us who knew them that our hearts would stop beating for sadness.
I will tell you now the great story of the Fall of Gondolin and its King, as I witnessed these events. I will tell you of the one I wish you would remember.
Your Father
Tuor, son of Huor, of the House of Hador
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Please R&R. I have tried to be as accurate as possible, but let me know if I have made any cannonical erros.