YEARS OF THE SUN
FIRST AGE 295

The only knowledge of the child's origins was Thurichel, meaning secret daughter; the name that was written on a single scrap of parchment in beautiful looping letters. The elfling babe was left at the entrance to the hall of Mandos, carried there by Death itself. For this babe was not an ordinary child. This small abandoned creature had gazed into Death's blind eyes and still did not die. Even the Maiar were subject to Death should it come for them. To the Vala Namo, best known as Mandos, was the elfling entrusted. Since she could not die perhaps it was natural that she should grow up surrounded by death. Thurichel was assumed as her ataresse or father name since it was the one given.

YEARS OF THE SUN
FIRST AGE 327

The elfling's laughter filled the usually sombre halls and in danced the elven child. Tiny and pale with eyes of sparkling gray she appeared to be one of the Noldor race with her long sweeping black hair, though none could say for certain. For her hair was not entirely black but instead shot through with strands of silver and grays of varying shades and those that had lived in the time of the trees likened her pale skin and unique hair to the great tree Telperion.

Though she had no mother, Vaire the wife of Namo, who had grown fond of the child, took it upon herself to give the child her amilesse, or mother name. So it was that Thurichel became known as Minorniel, or first tree, reflecting in her the light of the greatly loved Telperion and it was by this name that the dead in the Halls of Waiting and those in Valinor came to know her best.

YEARS OF THE SUN
FIRST AGE 345

Minorniel stood in the Halls of Waiting, walking silently past the dead souls who gazed at her as she moved. A child she appeared to them, yet older than any would guess, at the age of fifty she appeared a young lithe girl at the beginning of puberty. Yet she was still beautiful and very much alive, tall for her age and slight of frame, her shimmering hair falling to her waist, wild and unrestrained. A silver circlet adorned her forehead with a clear white stone in the center that shimmered with a captivating light. A similar stone was centered in an elaborate silver belt that gathered the black robes at her waist around her thin body. Grey eyes sparkled as she smiled at them, souls of men who would depart on ships into the west never to return. It was said even her caretaker Namo, the keeper of the dead, did not know where they went.

Walking barefoot through the halls, the souls of men whom had been there longer and recognized her would greet her. Minorniel curtsied with a kind of willowy grace and ethereal smile before gliding on. Today she did not look at the tapestries of Vaire, nor did she pause and talk with the newly arrived and beg for news of the strange land beyond where she had never been. Instead she walked quickly through the Halls, unhurried but with purpose, for here time meant nothing and she knew naught of it.

Minorniel had spent all of her days in these Halls, she would occasionally play in the sea just outside the castle's western border, but she had never seen the other parts of Valinor. She knew of those beyond and had met many Maiar and other Valar but was seen mostly seated by the side of Namo himself or weaving with Vaire or especially with Nienna, comforting the souls in the Hall. Today would not be a day for any such frivolities, for today Death had come personally to see her. It would come every ten years on this day for Death had grown fond of her, this elfling who could not die from its gaze, and she was company for it, something it had never had before.

Walking into her room Minorniel closed the door and locked it, to keep all others out, for if they walked in and laid eyes upon Death they would die. Not that the concern was so great in a house of death, but it was good to be careful. As she turned from the door Minorniel's eyes fell upon the figure of an elven Lord and she curtsied with her strange kind of grace and smiled invitingly.

"Gurthchir," she greeted, the name she'd insisted on calling it, choosing to view Death as a man since that was how it chose to appear before her. She did not know whose form he used but seated before her in the ornate chair was Death, straight black hair falling past his shoulders and blind emerald eyes fixed on hers. Standing he bowed to her, taking her hand and kissing it with icy lips.

"Lady Thurichel," he said in turn, always calling her by her ataresse. "It is good to see you again."

"As you," she replied with a fey smile, sitting on the edge of her bed as he returned to the chair.

"You have grown much," he said, his sightless eyes seeming to look at her. Minorniel did not doubt that he could see her somehow despite his blindness.

"And you remain unchanged," she affirmed and a small smile crossed his features.

"If you tire of this face I can change," he told her.

"Nay Gurthchir, I doubt I shall ever tire of the face you present to me," she answered quickly, "You know well I still wish to know whose form you have taken."

"And I shall never tell you," he smiled and Minorniel expected nothing less, "But tell me, what has passed for you in the last ten years."

Minorniel sat there conversing about the last decade with a far away smile. In her recount she laughed and cried and went into lengthy details of stories that lost souls had told her. Gurthchir spoke up rarely, asking only a few questions here and there, often his comments made her laugh, a beautiful bell-like sound that made Death itself smile.

"Now you tell me Gurthchir," she said, finally finishing her tale, "What news of the outside world, any battles? A touching story of two lovers? A heroic lord?"

Gurthchir smiled at her and opened his mouth before quickly closing it again and frowned. Sighing he stood from the chair. Minorniel looked at him in concern with a tilt of her head.

"I am sorry Lady Thurichel," he said, "Two elves have insisted on dieing today and I must guide them, were they men I could wait. This is most unusual, I apologize Lady." He said softly with a frown and Minorniel sighed.

"I am saddened Gurthchir, I shall not see you for another decade and you are certainly the most interesting company in the Halls, Namo will not let me venture outside until I am at least seventy. I grow so bored in your absence. Will you not take me with you to collect these souls?"

"I fear it would greatly displease your caretaker Lady."

"But you are Death itself Gurthchir! Namo can do nothing to you," she complained with sad eyes, standing up and embracing him tightly, burying her head into his chest. Gurthchir looked down at her in surprise before lightly returning her hug.

"I feel that you are using me Lady."

"I?" she asked looking up at him with a mischievous smile, "Never."

"Very well Lady, I shall take you with me, but only because our time was cut short, do not think this shall be a reoccurring event." She nodded and he went on, "You must always be in contact with me or the others shall be able to see you. Do you understand Thurichel?"

"Perfectly Gurthchir."

"Good," he said taking her arm and lacing it through his. Suddenly they seemed to be moving without moving and a glorious city rose up before them. Minorniel openly gaped at its beauty.

"What is this place?"

"This Lady Thurichel, is Gondolin, the hidden city of the elves."

"It's magnificent."

"It is simply another kingdom, it will one day fall, and another just as glorious shall arise."

"You are far too cynical Gurthchir."

"Truly? And how would you have Death act?"

"I would have him dress all in yellow with a crown of flowers in his hair and a smile on his face," Minorniel told him and he chuckled softly.

"I think not Lady, even for you." His face suddenly grew grim as they approached the base of one of an enormous black precipice that extended from the northern side of Gondolin. Minorniel closed her eyes at the broken and mangled body that lay at their feet.

"What happened to it?" she asked her eyes still firmly closed and she felt Gurthchir give her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"I know not, you will have to ask him yourself. Eol, the Dark Elf, I believe?"

"That is how I am known." At the presence of the new voice Minorniel opened her eyes and stared at the pale form of an Elf-man, sitting beside the body, a shimmering chain attaching him to it. "And who are you and how is it you see me."

"I am Death, Master Eol, come to take you to the Halls of Waiting."

"And who is the young Elf-Maid," he asked, dark eyes piercing her. Minorniel felt unnerved by his gaze and quickly looked away.

"None of your concern," Gurthchir answered simply. Drawing the sword from the sheath that he wore at his side Gurthchir sliced easily through the chain binding Eol to his body. The Dark Elf stood and nodded his thanks. "You will follow me."

Minorniel doubted that the Elf could have disobeyed had he wanted to. The spirit was whisked away with them as they seemed to materialize inside of a great room, the body of a beautiful Elleth lay with a poisoned javelin imbedded in her heart. At the sight of her spirit chained to the body Eol closed his eyes in momentary despair. When he opened them again they were hard and emotionless. Minorniel decided that he was justly named, Dark Elf indeed, she had never seen an elf so cold before.

"Lady Aredhel," Gurthchir spoke and the Elleth looked up at him and nodded in greeting. She seemed to be ignoring Eol, her eyes also hard. "Would you like to cut her chain Thurichel?"

Glancing up at Gurthchir in surprise Minorniel nodded accepting the sword from him. Stepping forward while keeping one hand in his she raised the sword and brought it down smoothly, slicing through the chain. She hadn't expected it to cut through so easily and stumbled forward a bit on impact, her hand slipping from Gurthchir's. Quite abruptly he as well as the two spirits vanished.

"Ai!" Cried a voice and Minorniel whipped around at the exclamation to see a tall Elf-man standing in the doorway to the chamber staring at her. He was undeniably beautiful, Minorniel thought, staring at him with wide eyes. His hair was gold, not simply blond but a rich warm color that shone in the light. He had the look of a noble warrior about him and the frown on his face did not belay his handsome features. "What are you doing!"

Minorniel opened her mouth to speak when she felt Gurthchir's hand grab her arm and the two spirits came abruptly back into focus. The golden haired elf who had seen her glanced sharply around the room in shock. Aredhel snorted behind her and Minorniel glanced at her questioningly.

"That was Glorfindel, an elf-lord of the house of the Golden Flower." she explained, "I doubt anyone has ever evaded him quite so successfully."

Glorfindel, Minorniel thought, staring at the golden-haired Elf-Lord. He had the muscular frame of a warrior, but lean and toned build of an athlete, tall, broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips. Minorniel had never seen an Elf so beautiful. She guessed him to be of Vanyar decent, the fairest of all the elves, but she could not fathom what he would be doing in Gondolin if that were so. She'd believed all of the Vanyar to be in Valinor. Perhaps he was half Vanyar only.

"Come, we go to Mandos." With that, familiar surroundings quickly seemed to materialize around them as they moved without moving. He spoke with the two souls for a moment and Minorniel waited for him patiently. When he had finished he took her hand in his and she knew he was not visible to to the others of the house and neither was she.

"What did you think of Gondolin," he asked when they were alone and she lay in her bed, wearily.

"It was the first place I've seen besides the palace of Nienna and these Halls. I cannot describe how freeing it was, thank you for taking me with you." Minorniel squeezed his hand gratefully and he smiled at her. She blinked her eyes blearily. "Pray tell, do you know much of that Elf-Lord Glorfindel?"

"Nay," said he with a sudden scowl, as she closed her eyes sleepily, "Why do you ask?"

"Because," she murmured on the brink of sleep, "He was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Gurthchir sat there in stunned silence as she lay asleep, her moonbeam hair splayed around her. Her words had awoken a pain, a turmoil inside of him that he did not understand. He quickly stood and turned before pausing and looking back at the beautiful Elleth that lay asleep a peaceful smile on her face. Bending down he kissed her forehead gently, a tear slipping down his cheek onto hers. He felt as though he had lost her.