My Weapon's Name


The House of the Fountain is often ablaze with light and music, a place for those from the other Houses to join in if they so wish. Many of our folk have Telerin and Sindarin kin, and music is something we all love. It is not unusual for Ecthelion to join us in the singing and dancing. He was trained as a bard in Alqualondë and has a beautiful singing voice, but tonight I glance into his study and see that he is sitting at a table, sharpening a sword.

"My lord?" I hesitate, unsure if he wants company.

"Come in, Elemmakil." The sound of the whetstone on a blade is something any soldier knows, but we don't go out to the gates again for several moons, and I frown.

"The king is not sending you on another trip, is he?" I had heard all about the disastrous trip with Lady Aredhel and how her escorts, including Ecthelion, had to return to the city without her. My father had said the king had been very unhappy with them.

"No." The slight smile eases my worry and I sit.

Ecthelion sets the whetstone aside and wipes the blade down. Picking up the sword, he holds it up before him and gazes at the runes that catch the firelight.

Orcrist sent many orcs fleeing in terror in the Nirnaeth. I had heard them yelling when Ecthelion was fighting and knew they called the sword biter for it had cleaved mighty numbers of their kind. He stares so long that I shift and ask, "Is everything all right?"

Ecthelion moves, his breath fogging the blade. I cannot help but stare, for I swear to Ilúvatar that for a moment there was figure that was not a reflection in that blade. Stout, dressed in fine furs, the figure is holding a sword that can only be Orcrist, but the image is all wrong. Elves do not grow beards, and the blade appears larger than it is in Ecthelion's hands. Much too large.

Then Ecthelion lowers the blade and sheaths it. I look up to find his gaze upon me, and I blink, trying to gather my wits. "Come sing for us, milord."

An easy smile and he sets Orcrist aside. It is, for the moment, nothing but a sword. "Very well, Elemmakil."

But I am uneasy around the sword now. It is of Maeglin's crafting, and he has often bragged of his father's prowess in sword making. One blade, Anglachel, is said to have been imbued with Eöl's malice. Some of the Sindar swear it is even sentient.

I cannot help wonder if Maeglin did something similar with Orcrist. But it was a gift to the king! It was Turgon who gave it to Ecthelion, for his service to the city. Many such gifts were given to the lords of the Houses.

Perhaps Ecthelion will someday gift it to someone. But why would the blade show this person to me? And who is he?


A/N:

Thank you so much for the amazing reviews, and I will get back to each of you! This week has been insanely busy.

Canon doesn't state that Orcrist was Ecthelion's. Only that it was given to Turgon, as was Glamdring, by Maeglin who crafted both swords. It eventually ended up being found by the Dwarves in The Hobbit, Ages later. The last we see of Orcrist, it is atop Thorin's tomb, under Erebor. Anglachel is a fascinating sword and that sad tale is told in The Silmarillion.