Hi people!
We've seen the beginning of the sad end of Gondolin, but… how everything started? What happened? That's what we're going to see.
And as always, I want to thank Celridel for her immense help.
Waiting your reviews guys!
Chapter 2: The beginning
*Fifty years before the fall of Gondolin.
Like a fine mist, the grey sky above them shed rain, and it splashed on the flagstones of Gondolin's forecourt.
In the center of the court, a tall Elf stood, silvered and steely, with a white diamond upon his brow to bind back his black hair. Before him was a young scout of the Grey-Elf race. His green and brown garments portrayed him as a scout.
"Tell me what you have found," Ecthelion said gravely. The scout was one of his, one of the ten that served under the Lord of the Fountains and the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower.
And scouts and warriors were needed alike and in plenty. The years grew evil. Morgoth 'The Enemy', sought to destroy all and spread his darkness over the world.
The Elves had suffered greatly under the attacks of the Dark Lord, and it was from them that Morgoth had created his most numerous servants.
But within the Hidden City, the Firstborn could live in relative peace. Morgoth was not yet aware of its existence, for Gondolin was surrounded by the Echoriath mountain-range, and the Great Eagles of Thorondor dwelt in the Crissaegrim and kept the spies of Morgoth from discovering the location of Gondolin.
However, the inhabitants of Gondolin did send out scouts and runners, and it was from one of these patrols the young Sinda had returned.
He bowed, the wet leather creaking.
"I am Langion, son of Agaren, and I speak to serve. Lord Ecthelion, we have found a company of Orcs."
Behind Ecthelion, his grey mare stamped uneasily and snorted.
The Sinda continued. "No more than two miles from here, but they are dead."
Ecthelion's forehead furrowed.
"Ah." was all he murmured, absently stroking his horse.
"Why so downhearted, my friend?" asked a cheerful voice. Ecthelion turned towards Glorfindel.
The half-Vanya nodded to the scout and then to his friend. He was dressed in light armor, plated with gold and in his belt hung a sword that had few rivals. His face was young, keen and beautiful and his arms banded with gold. His Sun-colored hair hung to his waist, its hue in no way muted by the constant rain.
Ecthelion gestured to the scout. "Langion, pray repeat your report."
"We have found a company of Orcs, my Lords, upon the Cristhorn." repeated the Sinda quietly. "But they are slain. I have already spoken with the other scouts and warrior's parties, and none have ventured that way for over a week."
"Then let us see," replied Ecthelion.
They had traveled through Tumladen's grasses to the foot of the Cristhorn, the fogs bewildering in the plains. At the bottom of the cliff lay a slaughter-pit of carcasses, around which the other scouts were already gathered.
"They are all dead, my Lords," called a female Elf, rolling a corpse over with her boot.
"That is well." answered Glorfindel but added to Ecthelion in a low voice. "I would rather know what they were slain by."
Ecthelion nodded but said nothing as they approached the carcasses. It stank of rotting flesh-even the rain could not wash that stench away. Standing over the body of an outlying Orc, he examined the killing wound carefully. The creature's face was split in half. Black blood ran in puddles, diluted with water. Ecthelion approached the next. This one had its right hand severed, and the other mutilated. In its chest were two thin punctures, as if those made by a rapier. The last one was cut in half, its entrails spilling out over the stone.
"This was a slaughter," muttered Glorfindel behind him.
"A slaughter indeed," said the older Elf. "But they did not do this themselves. Someone, who was not among them, killed them ... massacred them. Look here," he added, pointing towards the first corpse he had examined. "The weapon used to do this must have a sharp edge indeed. A rapier, I would imagine, by how thin the blade appears to be."
"Two," suggested Glorfindel.
Ecthelion nodded agreement.
"It is a war-wise being who has done this. But look. Elven warriors mortally wound their enemy, but never so ... "
"Bloodthirsty?" Glorfindel said, looking around him.
"Bloodthirsty" repeated Ecthelion "Only the hosts of Morgoth are as cruel."
"We may deal on that later. I wonder who it was."
The female who had spoken earlier approached them.
"I am Inrusc, daughter of Calel. May I speak?"
Ecthelion nodded to the wood-crafty Elf. "Do."
"The fighter left tracks because of the rain. There was only one." Inrusc said, crouching down and pointing to almost invisible markings. "It is the foot of a mortal."
"Not an Elf?" questioned Glorfindel.
She looked up.
"Not, not an Elf! Similar, yes, but not quite. See how the mark crushes down the grass?"
"This is ill news," said Ecthelion. "That a man has discovered a whereabouts."
Glorfindel shook his head, unconvinced.
"I doubt that even a very valiant mortal could defeat a score of Orcs. Only the Elves could, and they still are hard-pressed."
"Be that as it may, we must first discover the warrior. The tracks lead back towards the Echoriath." interrupted Ecthelion. "Let us follow them."
The lush grasses of Tumladen swayed about them. Clusters of willows and aspens grew by the edges of the Encircling Mountain, and it was through these the parties walked. Inrusc and Langion went in front to follow the tracks, but these stopped abruptly in front of a gnarled willow, with a broad trunk and tall crown.
The two trackers bent their heads together in muttered consultation, and then Langion swung nimbly up into the tree, a knife clamped between his teeth.
A few moments later, he dropped through the green leaves. After sheathing his knife, he stood up.
"Captains, there was an object in the fields. It is no more than two miles away. I have no doubt the trail will go straight to it."
It was less than an hour when they reached a small glade, surrounded by white willows. Over the pitter-patter of raindrops shaken from sodden leaves was the sound of labored gasps and moans.
Glorfindel held up his hand, and unsheathing Culumaica, quickly made his way through the thick grasses. In a low dene, a figure lay on its face, and on its back was a bleeding wound. It was trembling, grinding its teeth between groans of pain. With the flat of his blade, he carefully flipped the body over. It was a human woman.
Ecthelion was approaching him.
"By Manwë," muttered Glorfindel, looking down at the face of the woman by his feet. "A woman, here? How comes it?"
He sheathed Culumaica and knelt down.
It was a female in the summer of her life. Her figure was slim and hard, and her skin pale and covered with sweat. Her face was masterful, but not beautiful. Her hair was tangled, but was black, the same shade as her attire. She wore tight leggings, and a low-cut upper garments and a wide belt with a silver buckle emblazoned by a large X.
"Where do you think she comes from?" asked Ecthelion.
Glorfindel did not answer but instead held up one of the woman's cold hands.
"It is covered with blood. Orc gore, to be definite," he said soberly. Blood was spattered over her, hardly noticeable because of the darkness of her apparel.
Ecthelion overlooked the incongruity of this statement for the present.
"Does she have a weapon?"
"No." Glorfindel paused. "She's wounded gravely. An arrowhead embedded in her back. I cannot tell if it is poisoned. Orc arrows often are."
The Noldo looked down at the woman with thoughtful grey eyes.
"Nestaë is a skilled healer. She should be able to extract it."
Hearing this, Glorfindel looked up angrily.
"In the name of the stars, that is truly folly! Are you mad, that you would take a strange mortal to our city?"
"We have no other choice, Glorfindel. Listen, "he continued. "We must know how the Orcs could get to the Tumladen, and how she came to cross the Echoriath? How did they escape Thorondor's sight?"
"And if she is a spy?" demanded Glorfindel.
"Even if she is, she is in no state to do anything against us. She is burning with fever. No, she is truly ill."
Glorfindel looked at the woman with a hard face. Ecthelion spoke right. If they left her, she would die.
"Listen to me out. If she is a spy, her companions may try to follow us. But it will gain them nothing. None can pass through the Gates save those who know the secret words. Nestaë will try to save her life, both for the knowledge that she can give us and out of... compassion."
Glorfindel sighed. He distrusted those who were not of his Folk, and even less, those who came unbidden to the city he had sworn to protect with his life. But a true warrior had compassion.
"Very well. We have the whip hand, without a doubt." he said, "But we must blindfold her."
So, Lord Ecthelion had managed to convince Lord Glorfindel of taking Laura to Gondolin. What will happen there?
Waiting for your reviews guys!
