Hello people!

I want to thank Celridel for her help in the editions.

It has happened several things: the severe scolding of the king towards his Elf-lords, the increasing loving relationship between Lord Duilin and Elyéta, the new way that Laura treated Lord Glorfindel and he to her, but now... something else will be added not to mention that a new relationship that it was not known will be known.

Waiting for your reviews, guys!

Chapter 24: A True Friend

Melimë's voice was a distant echo in the ears of Princess Idril, who sat in the recess of the oriel window, watching the tumlótëa blossoms.

That morning, she had met Lord Galdor and Lord Egalmoth. Despite their respectful greeting, she could not help noticing that both were greatly disturbed, notwithstanding their attempts to conceal it. It had not been difficult for her to perceive their agitation. She was extremely insightful; a skill inherited from her father, the High King of the Noldor and, above all, from her mother, the departed High-Queen Elenwë.

They were not hostile towards each other, and it took a great thing to disturb their quiet tempers.

At another time, she would have asked her father, but not now. Too many shadows lay between Turgon and herself: grief and anger and disappointment. His words had cut her deeply and renewed the longing for her mother. If Elenwë had not perished, Turgon would not be so blind, not dwell so much in the past. He would see and act. No one could make Turgon reflect or stop his course, no one but Elenwë.

Her nimble mind flitted again and again to what could have caused that great disturbance to those two Lords, and for that reason, she had caused Melimë to read poetry, so she could be alone with her thoughts.

Vendelle glanced at the Princess again, only half-listening to Melimë's reading.

She was one of the few ladies-in-waiting of the Celebrindal. The Princess did not care to be surrounded, so Vendelle, Elyéta, and Melimë were her only companions.

Melimë, the eldest of Idril's companions, had been wed in Valinor, long before the Flight of the Noldor to Norcalimo, and was the mother of Ninya and Nessawën. Her children were the delight of the palace: pretty, intelligent and mischievous. While Melimë was the lady-in-waiting to the Princess, Norcalimo was the leader of the Tirolea, a company of Quendi responsible for planting and harvesting Kementári's gift. Norcalimo was well known for his excellent leadership and the ease with which he handled growing things, while Melimë was known for the beauty of her voice. Her voice was rapturous, soft and sweet with throbbing undertones like plucked harp strings so that the Celebrindal loved to hear her read some poem or story, or recite a legend.

Elyéta was the youngest of the ladies-in-waiting, a was a dark and slender beauty, pale as white cream. Wisdom and determination hid behind her shyness. Her brother Linwe was noted for his skill with Music, especially with the lyre, and his songs were known for their beauty and talent, so much so that Lord Ecthelion had congratulated him several times. Elyéta's chosen art was painting, and she had an unparalleled talent in that regard. Her work was so beautiful and lifelike that observers thought they were real at first. Elyéta also had a beautiful voice, but it paled in comparison to her brother's, which was pure and harmonious, of immense power and lofty eloquence.

Unlike her fellows, she had never had eyes for any ellon save her brother, who protected her jealously. In that, the Celebrindal envied her young companion, for Linwe was not only protective towards his little sister, he was also very insightful and knew when there was a danger, and would be willing to die to protect Elyéta. Idril was certain that Linwe, even though had no training, would willingly fight to save his sister.

Vendelle was as her name suggested, shorter in stature compared to her kin, the Noldor. She was quiet, but not shy, preferring silence so she could think, with a clever, whimsical face and wore her hair a coil of intricate braids bound with clasps of gold. Unlike Elyéta, who was an ingenuous dreamer; Vendelle saw the world through eyes filled with common sense and prudence. She was betrothed to Ermehtar, a member of the House of the Heavenly Arch. He was a soldier close to Lord Egalmoth, who had noticed in him the spirit of a leader and a clear mind during the din of battle. It was his clear-headedness that Vendelle loved most about Ermehtar, with whom she would marry in the first months of the following year.

"What is the trouble, Vendelle?" asked the Celebrindal suddenly. Vendelle searched for words, confused by the unforeseen question; while Melimë stopped at her reading.

" My lady?" she finally asked.

"You have been observing me for a time," Idril said, turning her gaze towards Vendelle at last.

Vendelle met her gaze calmly. She was one of the rare few who could withstand Idril's eyes, which possessed a remarkable penetration and prescience, and at this moment, demanded an answer.

"I saw you are very thoughtful, my lady," Vendelle answered. "Indeed, I believe you directed Melimë to read so that you can ponder on whatever concerns you, without interruptions."

Melimë and Elyéta glanced at each other. They, too, had seen the attitude of their mistress, but they had preferred to remain silent.

Idril studied Vendelle for a minute, her mind, bright and wonderful as the eyes behind which it lay, considering her courses of action. Vendelle's betrothed was very close in counsel to Lord Egalmoth. Maybe she knew through Ermehtar what had befallen the Treasurer.

"You are right, Vendelle," she answered at last. "Something worries me greatly."

" And what is it, if I may know it, my lady?"

"I have ... noticed that Lord Galdor and Lord Egalmoth are disturbed, to an extent they cannot conceal. And I was wondering if Ermehtar knows something."

Vendelle remained thoughtful for a moment. She knew she could not hide anything from her lady, and perhaps Idril could calm Egalmoth.

"It is true that Lord Egalmoth has been in an ill mood for a few days," she said. "Ermehtar does not know what befell him, but he thinks it concerns..." Vendelle paused, searching for some finesse. With another, she would not have minded saying it outright, but it was the Princess and the subject was delicate "The King and Lord Salgant." she ended softly.

Elyéta winced for Idril, knowing who lay behind this warmongering.

"Are you certain?" Idril asked.

"If it had to do with the Prince, I do not know. Ermehtar only knows that Lord Egalmoth is not well-disposed to Lord Salgant, whom he has avoided since the Council."

Idril's finely-sculpted face as inscrutable as a stone mask, while she cursed Maeglin in her heart. "Have you noted something different?" she asked after a few minutes, her tones as gently fascinating as ever.

"My daughters tried to play with Lord Glorfindel." Offered Melimë "You know, my lady, that he is a light-hearted Lord, and from time to time he plays with my daughters; but this day he refused."

"If it was in the morning, of course, it would be so," said Vendelle. "The Golden Flower guards the Main Gate today.

"That is so," Melimë agreed, "But they asked him during the afternoon, once his House had handed over the guard to the House of the Pillar. Then they told me that they had wanted to play with Lord Ecthelion but seeing that he was busy writing such a sad melody, they decided to play alone."

Idril said nothing. She had known Ecthelion from her earliest childhood when he was so bound up in his music, it was because something had happened to him, something complex or painful.

" And you, Elyéta?" Melimë asked, with a significant smile on her lips. " I have noticed that you were in the company of Lord Duilin."

The young Nolde blushed and hung her head. Vendelle raised an eyebrow, while the Princess tilted her head, interested in Melimë's comment. Her tone left much room for different interpretations and insinuations.

"Indeed?" Asked Vendelle. "I hope it was not difficult. He has a quick temper."

"Without a doubt," Melimë answered without pausing to observe Elyéta, who swallowed hard, not daring to look up.

The Silverfoot realized that there was something that Melimë knew, But that was not the time to reveal secrets, but to know what had happened between the Lords.

" Did you observe something strange in Lord Duilin, Elyéta?" She asked sweetly, hoping to rid her lady-in-waiting of her shyness of being accompanied by the Swallow.

The young Elf-maid remained indecisive. What would he think if she told them that she had found him disturbed and at first, angry? But, like Vendelle, she knew she could not hide anything from the Princess, so she decided to tell the truth.

"Yes," she replied, nodding several times and swallowing hard. "He was not...in a good humor...he...he was very disturbed."

"He did not tell you the reason?"

Elyéta shook her head. "He told me that it was not important."

Idril frowned. All the Lords had been affected. There was only one way to know what had happened and if her instinct was correct: her father, had criticized them on Maeglin's behalf. If so, she had to remedy, as soon as possible, the disaster that that miserable Bastard Prince had brought about.

The Lords of Gondolin were gathered in the Princess' pleasure-garden, all save Salgant, Maeglin, and the King. There was silence, each busy with their own thoughts. The Celebrindal had sent messages to them through her ladies-in-waiting, enjoining secrecy.

All the Lords respected the Princess deeply, and some, like Glorfindel and, above all, Ecthelion, loved her dearly. All Gondolin recognized her qualities, her beauty, her wisdom and her kind temper, and also her strength. But she had never summoned them secretly before, and that caused surprise and confusion. What did the Silverfoot desire to tell them?

Idril's POV

' My father has indeed arraigned the Lords unfairly and humiliated them as well. He is a wise King, who measures his words and his deeds. It is thanks to his foresight and the sharpness of thought that we have lived so far, hidden from the Unnamed.

But I also know that when he is enraged, he says the most biting words, the most humiliating phrases. He did it with me when I told him of Maeglin's true intentions towards me, and that I am his daughter. How much more terrible must it have been for those who are not his children!

Ah! Now that I see them all together, each with questions in their eyes directed towards me, I cannot but feel admiration and respect for each.

They are different, one and all, and yet somehow, they are all worthy of regard. From quick-tempered Rog and Duilin, to gentle Ecthelion and Egalmoth, from hot-headed Glorfindel and composed Galdor and Penlod, they are each honorable.

Their bearing is quick, dignified and firm, as firm as the most experienced and brave warrior, worthy of the highest Lords. And it does not surprise me for that is what they are: brave and war-wise fighters I have known since infanthood. They are all fierce, clever and fearless in the face of danger. Rather, they confront it with their heads held high, willing to lay down their lives for that which they have sworn to protect: my father, the city, me.

They are all intelligent, chivalrous, and kind. Even with Duilin, as swift with his anger as he is with his feet, has maintained respect towards me, despite his disturbance. And not only with me, but also with Elyéta.

I do not understand, then, how my father is able to believe Maeglin's slander towards those whose only fault has been protecting me. I do not understand how my father prefers his libel over his Lords' truth, who I see bowing in elegant reverence as a symbol of respect and obedience. I do not understand how my father cannot see this, if I, being much younger, understand that there is no one in all of Ennor who I can trust so much, if not with these Lords, worthy of the admiration of Artanis herself.

It is imperative that I speak with them and remove from them the humiliation my father gave them. They do not deserve it, rather, they are worthy of admiration and respect. My father has his judgment clouded by the absurd love he bears towards Maeglin, but if he cannot see what the Dark-Elf's son does, I do, and as Princess of Gondolin, and of the Noldor, it is my duty to amend the error.'

" My Lords." The Celebrindal greeted those gathered in her garden with a slight bow of her beautiful head

Immediately, all Lords bowed in answer, with gallant and respectful devotion.

The Princess descended the wind marble staircase, with all the grace of some airy sylph, and a beauty that could have well approached Elù Thingol's daughter, who, had they but known, was but three years from accomplishing what even the High-King of the Noldor could not. The autumn sun made her golden head shine so that her hair fell in waves of pure gold, the beauty of which could only be rivaled by Glorfindel. Her skin was pale and flawless, delicate as the softest rose-petal, showing eternal youth. Her brilliant eyes, so blue and bright they seemed to have a starry sky ensnared within, were piercing, filled with intelligence and wisdom that went beyond her years, and her every look a rebuke to all that was false and vile.

She walked softly: her slender body a rush in the wind, and it seemed that she glided like a swan. She wore no sumptuous dress, only simple white, but its cut was reminiscent of flight and was worthy of some forgotten Maia-Queen. But the Golden Rose of Gondolin was wrought with steel, and all the more beautiful for her strength.

She stopped at the landing on the stairs, where lilies and lupine-blossoms blossomed around her feet, and the Lords awaited her words.

Idril began at once, with a quiet intentness in her voice. "You are wondering why I have called you to a secret meeting, and you would do well to wonder. You are greatly disturbed, each of you, my Lords, and it makes me wonder what has happened. It makes me wonder whether it has to do with my father, the King." She paused and saw the Lords flinch, a reaffirmation of her conclusion. "Tell me, my Lords. I ask you to tell me the truth…what happened?"

There was a moment of silence. Why recount that humiliating and frustrating moment? It would only be to reopen the wound given to their pride and honor. But they also knew that the Princess would not be left without an answer. Finally, it was Lord Galdor who spoke.

"Indeed, my lady, it was as you guessed. Yesterday we had a Council with the King."

"And for what reason?"

"It was linked with Lord Maeglin," Duilin answered abruptly.

Idril looked at them in silence. When they had heard Maeglin's name, each had made some gesture of disgust, or of anger. "And what did he say, my lords? " She asked.

The silence lay heavy. Telling the Princess was tandem to accusing the High King of the Noldor, and they would never speak a single word against him.

" Lords of Gondolin, I implore you by the Válar to tell me the truth!" she beseeched. It would a heart of stone that could have withstood the look she cast them.

"Lord Maeglin raised slander against us," Penlod replied at last. "He avowed we had mistreated and patronized him." His fists clenched at the unfair accusation. "He avowed we shun him and were in collusion against him."

"The King also said that Lord Maeglin had told him that we intruded every time he attempted to strengthen the family relationship with you," added Egalmoth.

"That is what Maeglin said!" Idril exclaimed, in painful and furious surprise

"That is so, my lady."

Idril's eyes were bright with anger, and this did not pass unnoticed. Rog spoke up, his voice unusually soft and gentle. "My Lady. My Lady, do not fear. We understand the King had troubles weighing-"

The Princess waved her hand, gesturing for silence. A gesture of her father. "That does not justify his words, Lord Rog," she answered scornfully. The scorn was not directed at them, but at her father's treatment of them. "He should realize that you have been the ones protected me against the bastard child of the Wife-Slayer."

There was a murmur of surprise at her words. Idril regained quick control over herself. "Lord Ecthelion, Lord Glorfindel, you have not shared your opinion, although your faces tell my father was no kinder to you. What did he tell you? "

Glorfindel looked away, angry and humiliated. If he was not careful, he would speak against Aredhel, the aunt of Idril, and that was nothing lordly. Lord Ecthelion, able to remain calm, even when he felt frustrated and humiliated to the crux of his heart, held the Celebrindal's eyes and answered softly. "So it was. The King reminded us of our failure to protect the Huntress, Princess Irissë, and believes that it was only we who were to blame for the misfortune that befell her."

'Only' carried the clear connotation of Ecthelion's true thoughts, and the Celebrindal could not help but feel pain and anger. She knew what had been the failure of those brave two, but she also knew that her aunt had chosen a course, and could no more be stayed from it then the sea could be dammed. She felt her throat tighten at the memory of Aredhel, the one who had taught her to ride and shoot. If she had been alone, she would have burst into sobs; but she was not alone, and she had to show herself as the High-Princess, worthy of her parents.

"He also told us that we were patronizing Lord Maeglin," Glorfindel added, his blue eyes shining with anger, "It was our own fault that he was suffering, and if he treated us ill we deserved it."

Idril frowned. "What about Lord Salgant?" She asked after a moment.

There was menace in Duilin's face and Rog's eyes.

"Lord Salgant?" asked Rog, with a snort of disdain. "He sided with Lord Maeglin: the weak one that he is."

"Like his skill with the sword," Duilin added mockingly.

Penlod and Egalmoth smiled slightly, and Idril tilted her golden head, thus asking what had happened.

"I defeated him, my Lady," said Duilin. "And if I had been allowed to do him more damage than to his pride, maybe we would have been saved a serious humiliation." he ended darkly.

The Princess nodded slowly. She knew the quick-tempered Lord and had already envisioned Salgant's painful defeat.

There was a long moment of silence, then, where she observed each Lord, her nimble mind, and wise heart searched for the best words to mitigate the error that her father had made because of his blind love for his sister-son.

" My Lords, "she began." It grieves me to know that such a thing has befallen you and that my father said such unfortunate words. I am sorry that I am the cause of the king's wrath ... "

"There is nothing to excuse, my lady," said Lord Galdor.

Idril made an authoritative gesture with her hand, but the slight smile and lambent glimmer of kindness in her eyes showed her not only worthy of the daughter of the High King but also as one with a noble heart and a clear understanding.

"I know, Lord Galdor, I know," she said, "But let me speak for a moment. It is clear now more than ever that Lord Maeglin has a greater influence than we imagined over the king. Therefore, I beg all of you, Lords of Gondolin, to forget the offense received and I also beg you to accept my apology. I do not do it only for myself, or for the High-King, but for all Gondolin. I ask you, for the Válar, to put aside the resentment that you have for Maeglin, for then he will not be able to attack us. It is necessary for you to show obedience and set aside this sad incident because only then, you can continue to have a little influence in the Council, something very necessary if we desire reason in our city."

They looked at the young Princess, who had spoken with a wisdom that very few could match, and answered: "Your wishes are our orders, my Lady."

" My lady," Rog said after a few moments. "Now that you have spoken, let us now say a word. "

The Celebrindal nodded.

"We will do as you have asked. Our anger has been caused by the humiliation and affront, but we have never dreamed of turning our backs on our King. But we know it is not only us that have suffered because of Lord Maeglin." He paused, and Idril nodded slowly, to hide the anguish that it caused her. "Well, I assure you, that I and all my fellows are ready to face the wrath of the King if that is what it takes to protect you. Whenever you wish to be free of Maeglin, you only have to look at us, and we will come."

The other Lords, upon hearing this, swore with heart in their voices that their loyalty and protection to her would never be lacking. The Silverfoot looked grateful and nodded slowly. As a Queen, she kept her composure even when she was suffering.

"Thanks, my lords," she said earnestly, struggling to keep the tears from falling. "I appreciate your oath more than you can know, for now, I am doubly assured of the protection of the noblest Lords in Ennor."

There were soft murmurs of appreciation and smiles. The kind words of the Celebrindal were like balm on the wound her father had inflicted.

"Well, my Lords," she said after a pause. "We each have our obligations, and I do not wish to keep you from them any longer. Have a blessed day and once again, I beg you not to say a word about this meeting."

The Lords swore by their honor that they would say nothing about this and departed…all save Lord Ecthelion.

Lord Ecthelion's POV

'Idril surprised me much and more. I know that the situation is not straightforward: I only need to look into her eyes to see it. She knows how to hide her feelings, as well as her mother, used to; but ... for me, who knew her since she was a babe, I see that underneath this mask of regality and face of authority, there is a maiden suffering, valiantly supporting the weight of Turgon's failure both as a king and a father, and this hounding to which she is subjected.

I know she will never tell anyone of this if I do not ask her. She will take strength from her weakness and move forward. But I know her, I know well this child that I cared for while the King mourned for his wife; and I know that unless I ask her, she will not say a word, but she will save her anguish, anger, and frustration for herself. And I ... I cannot allow such a thing to happen, and put this little one through such misery.'

When she saw that Ecthelion did not depart, she tilted her head and sighed artfully. It was an attitude and manner, an off-hand mummery that Ecthelion recognized as Idril at her most insecure. "My Lord Ecthelion," she asked coolly. "Is something wrong?"

"I was going to put the same question to you, my Lady," he answered, holding her gaze. "Are you well?"

"Yes, my lord," she answered, raising her chin proudly. "And if I remember aright I dismissed all of you."

Ecthelion ignored the second part of the sentence, fixing his penetrating grey gaze on the young Princess. "What is, Lindil?" he asked softly.

Hearing the pet-name, Idril looked away. The tears controlled during the hearing with the Lords were now impossible to stop and, much against her grief, they began to roll down her cheeks. A barely audible sob escaped her lips.

The brave and majestic Princess of the Noldor was transformed before Ecthelion's eyes into a maiden frail and delicate, filled with fear and anguish, for the first time in her life feeling helpless and lost and alone.

"Linheru!" She murmured, looking up and fixing her tear-filled gaze on Ecthelion, who no longer saw Princess Idril Celebrindal, the Flower, and Pearl of Gondolin; but he saw the little child who had just lost her mother, and sought refuge and solace in him. He embraced her as he used to do in those days, and the Silverfoot hid her head against his chest and wept.

They stood thus for a long time, the only sound the Princess' crying. Ecthelion did not say a word. Why say it? She needed to feel safe, she needed refuge from the trouble. If she wanted to talk, he would listen to her. But if all she wanted was to cry, he would be there too, just as he had done several hundred years ago, when the Pearl of Gondolin was just a babe.

Idril's weeping slowly died away until only soft sobs were heard. She pulled away from him slightly and looked up. In her blue eyes, he could read desolation, sadness, and frustration. Whereas in him she could see understanding and kindness, as well as the love he had for the one whom he had helped raise.

"What do I do?" She whispered, in a voice so low it seemed like a sigh. "I do not know what to do."

That question was absurd. A moment ago, she had displayed a clear and lucid mind, showing a wisdom that exceeded the number of years of life she was, sure of her answers ... and suddenly ... she was wondering what to do?

"I know I must be strong. I know that my father relies on me. I know that I must be a worthy daughter of the High King. But what do I do? What do I do with Maeglin! " She ended in despair. "My father does not believe me! on the contrary, he got angry when I told him the truth; and as if that were not enough, you have also been treated unjustly!" She paused and looked at him with pleading eyes. "What should I do, Linheru? "

"You already did what you should have done, little Lindil," he answered. "You have spoken to all of us and with your wise words you have consoled our hearts and healed the wound dealt to our honor and pride."

Idril pulled away and began pace fiercely. "It is the least I could do," she said. "Do you know my father said Maeglin was wiser than me. If he was, I would bear no grudge….but he is Maeglin, he is the son of the Wife-Slayer. And it is not for his blood that I dislike him, you know that! But he is….dark, like his father before him, and yet my father holds him in greater esteem than me or you!"

"You are wise, Lindil," Ecthelion replied, a smile softening his face. "Like your mother."

"But I'm not her!" Exclaimed Idril, stopping suddenly, and tears returned to her eyes. "I'm not her! My father tells me again and again that I am like my mother, but I'm not her! And I never will be! "She paused, her desperation increasing, and she sank to the floor, hiding her face in her hands. " Oh, Válar! Why is such a heavy burden imposed on me? Why everyone expects me to be like my mother! Why!" Once again, sobs drowned the last words.

Lord Ecthelion looked at her for a moment, sadness read in his gray eyes. For as long as he could remember, Idril had always been compared to her mother, both because of her beauty and because of her keen foresight. That had always been difficult for her. The knowledge, the realization, the discernment of the thoughts of others from such a tender age was something hard to bear. And many times, she had confessed it with tears in her eyes. He approached her slowly and placed a gentle hand on her shaking shoulder.

"Lindil," he called softly, gently raising her to her feet. "Lindil, you are not your mother, nor should you be like your mother."

Idril took a shuddering breath.

"No. You are not Elenwë, you are Idril Celebrindal. And while you look as her and you have a gift of foresight very similar to hers, it is no less true that you are your own person. You have not lived the life of your mother. She dwelt most of her life in Válinor; you, on the other hand, have lived in Ennor. You know the horrors that are caused by the evil of Unnamed One, you have seen children of Men and you have dealt with them, you have helped to build a city. You are illimitable, Idril. Do not seek to be your mother, be yourself: Idril Silverfoot. Neither try to live up to the glorified image of your mother. Find happiness in you are you are, and your life will be more beautiful than anything you can dream. Use your mother's life as an example, but only like that: as an example."

"And Maeglin?" She asked, growing calmer. "Since he arrived it has been a plague for Gondolin, and, it will get graver as he gains more influence over my father."

"Indeed. But in this situation, nobody has more power than you."

"I!" exclaimed Idril, her voice once again filled with fear and insecurity. "My father does not even listen to me! You would know that if you had seen his face when I told him…..him about Maeglin

Lord Ecthelion watched her sadly. It was clear that she was offended and hurt. But he also knew that Turgon loved his daughter very much, and that while he may have been cruel to her at the time, it was no less true that he was also suffering from the argument that they had had, and that, the Council he had had with Lords pertained to the dispute between father and daughter.

"Lindil," he said gently. What he was going to advise was not easy. "Lindil, you must speak to your father, and try and regain the relationship-"

"But-" She exclaimed, her face blushing with anger.

Ecthelion made a very particular gesture, a gesture he used to make when she was a child and which indicated that she must keep silent for a moment.

"I know it will be hard, but only you have enough influence over the King. We will certainly do what you have asked us to do; but no matter how hard we try, we will never have the same weight as Maeglin. But you are the King's daughter, you remind him of his wife, you are the only one who can take stock of the Council and make the king change his mind in the event that Lord Maeglin advises something imprudence." Seeing her gaze was suspicious, he continued. "I am not warmongering, Lindil. This is not a battle of power, because such a thing would bring about our downfall. No, it is about maintaining a balance in the Council. If Lord Maeglin is given full influence, it will culminate in him making a mistake, an error that could cost the city dearly, but if the king has another voice that he knows is wise and knows that he can trust, then that voice will be the one that returns him to reason. Was not it you who had the idea of dealing with Hwa- Young? If it were not for that, she would not have learned our language, and we would still be waiting for the answers we needed."

The Celebrindal was silent for a long time, her gaze fixed on the marble floor, meditating on the words of her best friend.

" And you will be with me, Velindo? You will not leave me?" She implored, lifting pleading eyes.

Ecthelion smiled. Those questions were what the Princess used to ask when she was a frightened child! She had asked them so many times! When she realized her mother would never come again, when her father could do nothing but mourn his life, when she was frightened of a thunderstorm, when she had dreamed of dying in the Helcaraxë; when she had heard the arguments between Turgon and Aredhel, she had been afraid and lonely, and it was he who had comforted her and stayed with her singing and teaching her to play the harp. Yes, those two simple questions brought hundreds of memories to his mind, and he drew her to himself and embraced her as if she was still a child.

"Of course, little one. I will never leave you, Nilenda."

Lindil-Rain Friend

Linheru-Music Master

Nilenda-Kind Heart

Velindo-Great Heart

Seems that Princess Idril Celebrindal is much wiser than her father.

Waiting for your reviews, guys!