Hello people around the world!
I want to thank Celridel for her help in editing this story as well as I want to invite to all the readers to leave their reviews which will be welcomed.
Let's remember that a new plot besides the one of Glorfindel and Laura has started a couple of chapters ago: the budding romantic relationship between Elyéta and Lord Duilin.
And it will be in this chapter that something... unexpected will happen.
Waiting for your reviews, guys!
Chapter 26: An Unexpected Confession
"Well, have you and Salgant made amends yet?"
Duilin looked away from Egalmoth and scowled. No, he would never make peace with that tasseled lord after what he had done during the council.
"Duilin, remember what the Princess asked us," Egalmoth said in a low voice. Duilin turned and met his gaze stubbornly.
"Do you think it was a small thing that she asked of us?" He retorted. "He has made us looked like liars! Does seem like a small thing to you?"
"No, it certainly was not small," Egalmoth agreed. "But the Princess asked-"
"She never asked for forgiveness."
"No, but do you remember what she did ask of us?"
Duilin opened his mouth to contradict, but he could find no words, which was rare indeed, for his tongue was as fast as his limb and temper.
"Very well," he replied disdainfully. "But do not think for a minute that I'm going to forgive him, Egalmoth."
"Making peace with Salgant is more than enough for me," replied his friend.
The two lords were standing in the light cast by an amber-glass lantern, watching the merrymaking go on about them. It was the Festival of the Arts, which was held thrice a year and intended to let artists of all kinds show their skill. Ecthelion and Idril participated, but over the course of the year, two siblings had gained the admiration of Gondolin for their skill in art and music.
Linwë, a young Noldo, orphaned of father and mother by Helcaraxë, so skilled with music that Ecthelion had taken him under his wing, to nurture the gift that had been so lavishly bestowed on him.
Elyéta was the other, so shy at first, she seemed a meek and mild creature, but she kept a fire in her heart. She an unparalleled ability to paint the most amazing images, in such a way that she seemed to be able to capture their spirits, their true essence in her watercolors. She was a self-taught painter, which had led to her inimitable techniques because, for everything an artist is not taught, a star of possibility still winks on her horizon.
All of Gondolin knew who the Princess would award the prizes in the fields of art and music. It was only a question of when.
"What do you think Ecthelion will sing now?" Egalmoth asked after a few moments, trying to distract Duilin from his irritation.
"Probably he and the Princess sing a duet," Duilin answered distractedly, looking around him.
"Have you heard of one Linwë?" Egalmoth continued. "They say that he will also participate with a duet. I should like to hear it."
Hearing the name, Duilin felt a strange twinge in his chest. He still remembered the meddlesome Elf.
"No," he answered, feigning indifference. "Who is he?"
Egalmoth laughed.
"Do you spend all your time in a cave, my friend? He is one of the most skilled musicians in Gondolin. Ecthelion says there will come a time when the birds will still to listen to him play."
Duilin snorted.
"Nobody will ever be able to play as Ecthelion does. His ability was already well-known in Válinor. I assure you that no one should be able to play like him among all the Elves, including those who stayed in-" He broke off sharply then. They both knew what he had been about to say, and neither wanted it. It was Duilin who finally shook his head as if clearing his mind.
"Come on, we're at a festival. Let us enjoy ourselves!"
"I think that is a fine idea, but you don't appear to be acting on it," said a voice from behind them. They turned to seem Penlod, a good friend to them both. Duilin opened his mouth to answer when he finally saw who he had been looking for. She was dressed in pale rose-pink, her glossy black hair falling in ringlets down her back.
"Here, take this," he muttered to Egalmoth, handing him his glass of wine, and left quickly.
"Do you know who she is?" Asked Penlod, looking after Duilin's hurrying figure.
"I'm not really sure," Egalmoth answered. "All I know is that she is a lady-in-waiting to the Princess and that Duilin is in love with her."
Penlod watched Duilin offer his arm to the elleth and smiled.
"It seems you're right," he answered. "Duilin is very much in love with her."
Lord Duilin's POV
'Oh gods, there she is! She looks like a wild rose, so shy, so beautiful. I have to speak to her before the contests begin. My mind and my heart sing when I'm with her. I cannot spend tonight without being with her. "
"Elyéta?"
The voice startled her. She spun around, and her heart leaped with joy and surprise. Duilin was standing a few steps from her, his tawny hair braided with white feathers, his blue eyes smiling.
"Oh! My lord!" she said, making a curtsey.
"Are you going to participate in the contest of the arts?" He asked. "If not, it is only because you knew you would win, and wanted the others to have a fair playing ground."
"Your words honor me, Lord Duilin, but my paintings are not so ... beautiful, as you think "she said, her eyes still down because she knew it would be impossible to speak if she met his.
"Quite the contrary, Elyéta, I know you will win the prize because I have seen your work and I still have the painting you gifted me with," he replied earnestly.
Elyéta raised her head sharply, fixing her eyes on his. Her hands crossed behind her back and began to rock forth and back on her heels. "Really, my lord?" She asked in a voice that nearly trembled.
"Yes. I have it in my chambers, in a place for my eyes alone," he said simply. The mere fact of seeing her was enough. She wore a rose-pink dress, beautiful in its simplicity, and her only other ornament was a silver necklace with an opal pendant.
Against her will, Elyéta remembered her brother's words, and answered quietly, "My Lord, you give too much importance to a common painting by a commoner artist."
"Common painting?" Repeated Lord Duilin in utter surprise. "Common? That is the hardly the word I would use describe you! I would rather be by your side, Elyéta, than by the side of the Princess herself!".
"Truly?" She asked, the word escaping her in her amazement.
Duilin offered his arm: Elyéta timidly put her hand and let herself be guided away by him.
Elyéta's POV
'This is so beautiful! He still remembers me! It's hard to believe such luck could come to me, but I still want more. Is that wrong? Is it? The One created love for a reason, and if only this was more than friendship. I've fallen in love with a lord….so is this truly good luck? Or is ill?
Never mind. Don't think such thoughts. You have a friend, don't lose him.
They walked for a long time, talking of everything and nothing. Little by little Elyéta blossomed, becoming talkative, witty, observant.
And it was the latter that made her realize the cloud appeared on her companion's brow when she mentioned the Lord of the Harp.
"What's wrong, my lord?" she asked, puzzled and surprised.
"What's wrong?" He repeated.
"Yes, you were angry when I mentioned Lord Salgant," she said with a child's simplicity. Then she blushed and looked down, her former fluidness deserting her. "You were…ah….angry…..and maybe I can….help. I-I know that I have not earned your trust, but maybe I can help you "
The Swallow looked at her for a moment. If only she knew that she had earned so much more than he himself knew! And it was what made him answer,
"Only a ... misunderstanding. It is nothing."
He would not say more, because she should not carry any of his problems, his problems were his and only his. This beautiful creature should be forced to shoulder his burdens. She deserved only happiness.
"Forget and forgive," she said suddenly, smiling up at him. "To forgive and forget is the only this way you can live. Otherwise, you get bitter. Your heart gets wrinkled by the bitterness, and it shrivels like dried fruit. And it would certainly be terrible if my lord ended up like a raisin, would it not?" she ended playfully, still looking at him.
Duilin stared at her for a moment and then laughed.
"That would be terrible indeed," he agreed. "I would rather become a millet seed, wouldn't you?"
She laughed too.
"Me! Never!"
"No," he smiled. "You would be a rose, wouldn't you?"
Her smile faded away as looked up at him.
"A rose, my lord? Isn't that a little too grand?"
"I don't think anything is too grand for you," he answered, and bent to kiss her forehead.
"Elyéta!" The sharp exclamation made both turn with guilty quickness. Linwë stood there, a dagger-sharp gaze fixed on the Elf-Lord, although he said civilly enough, "Elyéta, I have been looking for you. We sing soon, and should rehearse one more time, don't you think?"
"Are you going to sing, Elyéta?" Duilin asked, ignoring Linwë.
"Um ... ah ... yes ... with my brother," she answered, shrinking away from both of their eyes. "My lord ..." she added with a pleading look. The Elf-lord immediately understood what she was referring to and said immediately,
"Without a doubt, you must rehearse. I'll be there to hear you."
She smiled faintly.
"Thank you, my lord," she murmured.
Linwë, who had ignored the Swallow-Lord, took his sister's hand as soon as the Elf-lord had finished speaking and led her away.
Duilin closed his fists on seeing this. If this Elf couldn't find some manners, he would get in trouble.
A murmur rushed through the crowd, and the rich, powerful voice of Lord Rog announced,
"Behold! Here is Turgon, High King of the Noldor, and his daughter Princess Idril Celebrindal, High Princess of the Noldor!"
There was silence as the two appeared onto the high stage. Turgon was amazingly tall, dressed in white, with a crown of red garnets, and a belt of gold. He carried no scepter or sword, for this was a time of rejoicing, and his keen face was smiling.
The Pearl Gondolin wore a linen dress so fine that it looked like mist. Like her father, she too wore a belt of filigree gold, and on her chest, she wore a necklace of diamonds and sapphires set in silver, a necklace that had belonged to her mother. She was smiling as well, and raised both lily hands into the air,
"May the contests begin, and the Válar favor all!"
At the end of their song, there was warm applause. The voices of both siblings were very beautiful, and Linwë's fingers extracted the sweetest notes that could be imagined from his lyre. The lyrics of the song were full of feeling and, above all, of joy. The joy that reigned in Gondolin, the joy that reigned in a place where everyone was safe from Unnamed One, the joy of a race that loves art and all beautiful things and that, at that moment, was happy to enjoy them.
Linwë bowed to his audience, wrapped in success until he noticed his sister blushing, her gaze fixed on Lord Duilin, as were his eyes on her. The Elf-lord was smiling at her, and it was clear it had little to do with the song.
Linwë took a deep breath. If his little sister did not realize what was happening, he would have to be the one to protect her. And he would start his own war against the miserable Lord who dared to play with his sister's heart. He had already begun preparations.
He approached Ecthelion, saying,
"My lord, I have a song that I would like to show the audience. Would you allow me to sing it?"
The Lord of the Fountains smiled.
"Of course, Linwë,"
"Thank you, my lord," he answered, bowing and returned to the stage. Elyéta, seeing this, ran to him before he went up the stairs.
"Linwë ... I did not know we were going to sing another song!"
"No, this song I want to sing by myself. Do not worry, little sister. This was written for a single voice."
And having said that, he went nimbly up the stairs and said, lyre in hand.
"Friends, before we continue, Lord Ecthelion has honored me by letting me sing on more song to you. It is named Scorned Love," he added, letting his gaze linger for a few moments on Lord Duilin. He paused for a minute, and then began, letting his voice roll, rich and deep and sorrowful, over the waiting ears of the crowd.
"Wander, mourner, by sunless streams
Weep, mourner, for broken dreams
For after one fleeting and giddy day
Like an old rag, you were cast away
Sit and mourn by the moon-lit pools
Sing a song of treachery and fools
Your heart is broken and you weep
But for him, the past lies in sleep
You met amid the roses, but he cast
Your heart amid the thorns at last
Betrayal's thorns with roses veiled
By sweet scents, you were assailed
And the only warning of the trickery
Was the mawkish, cloying flattery
He gave to you, promising a thing
That would never end with a ring
You were but a toy for an idle hour
And your heart naught but a flower
And all its petals might be crushed
Tossed aside and ground to dust.
So sit and mourn your broken heart
The betrayal that will never depart
From your reflection in moon-lit pools
As you sing of treachery and fools."
He bowed and left the stage amid surprised applause. His sister did not join in this applause: she stood frozen in shock.
Linwë was walking down an open corridor, grateful for the cool night air when an iron grip on his shoulder spun him around.
"How dare you!" Duilin cried, his eyes blazing with rage. "How dare you insinuate such things, you backstabbing cur?!"
"So, you did notice, my lord, to whom it was directed?" replied Linwë calmly. "And if I am a cur, what does that make my sister?"
"A flower, an intelligent, beautiful woman who shares no traits with her brother!"
"But not a lady. What I see, my Lord is that you are bored. Elyéta is beautiful, she is intelligent, she is skilled, but she is a commoner, and there will be no repercussions when you throw her away for someone else."
"You, witless whoreson," Duilin answered with exasperated anger. "If you think I would treat Elyéta like that you have all the mind of a toad. If I wish to be with her, it is her business, and it is mine, but it is not yours."
"It is my business because she is my little sister. And you want something from her."
"I do!" exclaimed Duilin, shaking him. "I do! I want her love! I love her with all my fëa, and I would never do her the slightest harm! She is everything to me!"
Hearing this, the young Noldo looked at him scornfully.
"Do you really think, my lord, that I believe you? You, who have always winked at love and marriage as a matter of jest, have now become a romantic? I think not. No, my lord, you do not even know what love is. Now, I think that both of us with that we could become better strangers, so let me go."
Duilin released him silently, surprise superseding anger, and Linwë walked away, leaving Duilin to listen to an enchanting voice singing about two lovers in the summertime.
Seems that in the end, the musician is really making his own war agains an Elf-lord. What will be the end of it?
As well as it seems that the Lord of the Swallow has finally realized he has fallen in love.
Waiting for your reviews, guys!