Hi guys!

First of all I want to thank Celridel for her help in the editions of this story as well as I want to thank BackstreetGirl, d'elfe and idonthaveaname for their reviews which are very helpful.

So... now this is the very first hint of what Lord Glorfindel really feels for Laura. Let's see what he thinks about it. Also, there will something quite... interesting in Lord Duilin's life. And let's see what will be the result of Laura's train as a soldier.

As always, waiting for your reviews, guys and... let's go for chapter 49!


Chapter 49: But Never Doubt I Love

He ran in springing, graceful steps, devouring the miles with his stride. He had always loved to run; entranced by the sound of the gossiping wind, how well his body obeyed him, the scenery that rushed by him in a hazy blur, the sweet air in his hungry lungs.

He pushed himself to the very brink of his limits, going faster and faster. All that was left now was visceral, an undiluted instinct that left the mind far behind.

At last, he slowed himself to a walk and then halted by a pool fed from an underground spring. It lay cradled complacently in its rocky bed, ice-cold and crystal-clear. Glorfindel laved his face gratefully in it, then drank sparingly from his cupped hands. It filled him like new life.

He turned then, looking back to Gondolin. Tumladen was thick with constellations of flowers, and out of this hazy beauty flew Gondolin's fretted spires and glittering towers, its walls high and white above the flowery plain. Its beauty was immense and bone-touching, a loveliness that played symphonies on his heartstrings. They had raised it from the ground, built it with blood and tears and songs of a home they could not return to. They had built it with jealousy and a fire in their hearts. They had built it with a strange and chilling love.

He had thought he had found his place in this strange, new world. He had been happy, understanding all that needed to be understood. He had lost himself in the Song of Stone and believed he had found himself.

And then an unlovely woman had come and thrown him back into chaos. And however unlovely she was, at times he felt blessed just to be with her.

He shifted uncomfortably, realizing that in these few minutes the thoughts had returned, creeping up on him like unpaid debts. She made him shudder, she made him laugh. At times she even frightened him: her callous approach towards life-her own and others, the flat, dead look in her eyes during the duel.

And then what was she to him? Glorfindel concentrated, trying to pin down his thoughts, trying to pigeonhole Laura, put her neatly away where she belonged? A soldier? A citizen of Gondolin? An Elf-Friend? Yes. And-

No. He shoved that idea aside and wished for Ecthelion. Ecthelion knew the answers; he always had.

Glorfindel turned back towards the pool, sitting on a boulder and studying the face reflected back at him.

He took all the wise ones in his life: his father, Ecthelion, Idril, Turgon, amalgamated them into one being and called it his reflection. He felt foolish for doing so, but it felt it also felt right, so after a moment's hesitation, he said to the Lord in the pool.

"I do not understand. Since I was a child, I have winked at love and marriage. I understand some time in the future such an act might be politically indispensable, but for now, I am happy focusing all my energy on Gondolin. Or I was."

He paused, casting a surreptitious glance over his shoulder, not wanting to be seen. "And then Laura came. She is neither lovely nor very kind, but there is something else. Maybe it is a strength or an innate warmth, but it draws me to her."

Glorfindel drew another breath. "If some other had told me these same things, I would have said they are in love without hesitation. I know what I feel: what happens to my heart and soul whenever I touch it. But I feel like I cannot reconcile two loves. It is like charging horses pulling in opposite directions. I can no more abandon one than I could a child. Every one of them is important, every one of them part of my soul. The only option then is to find a way for them to charge in the same direction, to pull together.

So, when Laura decided to put her skills to use bettering Gondolin...I believed that was the answer. But somehow, it ended up being a riddle. I know I love Gondolin. I know it with everything I have in me. I think I may love Laura."

He did not find the answer in his reflection, but this introspection seemed to untangle some part of him, making into something both controllable and useable.


The King summoned a council when dawn was still a promise on the horizon. Inside the huge marble room, the air was chilly.

"Have you made your decision concerning our newest recruits, my lords?" Turgon asked, from the massive oak cathedra at the head of the table, crested with his House's device, the pearl moon, the gold sun, and the scarlet heart. His gaze was curious and complicated: something was clearly compelling him to deal with this matter.

"I have made my decision," said Lord Egalmoth.

Turgon glanced towards his nephew, who nodded. Of late, Maeglin had seemed better disposed towards the world, less withdrawn. Despite his checkered past, many Elves were interested in learning from the master smith, for Maeglin made marvels.

The recruits were divided up between the Houses, according to their inclinations. Some had asked for a specific House, and most of these requests were granted.

Finally, only one remained. "And what of Laura Kinney?" Turgon asked finally.

"She will not join my House," Duilin said instantly.

Turgon looked at him, responding in a tone that could not be deciphered. "Has she not passed all her tests, my Lord Swallow?"

"Perhaps so," Duilin returned bluntly. "But this is my home, and I will not harbor a vulnerability so close to my heart."

"Neither will I force you too," said the King gently. "So, the woman has not asked to join any House?" His sharp eyes found Glorfindel's before his gaze widened to take in the rest of the Lord.

"I would like to Laura Kinney to be a soldier of the Golden Flower," Glorfindel said suddenly. "She is an innate warrior," he continued. "She has spirit and strength and is a staunch fighter. I would like to think that I know her more than anyone here, and as such, I would like to enter into my House."

"Lord Glorfindel, I am sure your observations are correct," Galdor said peacefully, holding a bland face. "But I for one never wished her to be part of our city's defense. What Duilin said rings true to me: I will not willingly place a vulnerability in a position of power."

Duilin turned to fix Glorfindel with a glittery gaze and a knowing smile as thin as a new moon. "My Lord, would you like to expound on why you favor our dear intruder so?"

"You believe I favor her?" Glorfindel said, returning the smile like an unwanted gift. He liked Duilin: the two lords were nearly the same age, but at times like this, Duilin's sharp words and even sharper gaze irritated him. "I displayed no favoritism towards her."

Ecthelion broke in smoothly. "My Lord," he said, directing his words towards Turgon. "Laura Kinney is an excellent strategist and a good warrior, but I would not place her one of the Houses. If we do not trust her, how can we expect others too? And a division during times of crisis would be catastrophic indeed."

"Then let us cast a vote," Turgon said and listened as one by one, his lords brought their argument to the table, until only his silent sister-son was left.

"Lord Glorfindel, considering the numbers against you, Laura Kinney cannot enter your House," the High-King said at last.

Glorfindel's face was a portrait in indignation. "My Lord," he protested. "How can this be? Why did we let her go through the rigors of training-why did we squander our time training her-if our end goal was this?"

"I fail to see what else she would have done with her time," the King said coolly. "A house divided cannot stand, and in this case, twelve houses will not stand if they are divided. Should you be able to convince the other Lords, I will not stand in your way, but until then, Laura Kinney will remain what she was."

He turned to his nephew, pinning all his hopes of a peaceful resolution on him. Sometimes Turgon found it hard to believe how diplomatic Maeglin was. He looked like his mother-the thin face, the high cheekbones, and large eyes-but his winning tones, his effortless persuasion in nearly all matters, must have belonged to his father. Turgon often found himself wishing Maeglin was far less tactful. "What do you propose, my Lord Mole?"

Maeglin held a palm of peace. "I propose that we dwell on the matter for a few days at least. What Lord Galdor says is indeed true, and it is a weighty matter. We must put aside our personal opinions and make a decision that is best for all of our Houses," he said, and although his tone was neutral and his gaze directed towards Turgon, Glorfindel felt the words were pointed towards him.

Turgon looked at his sister-son with wry love, although he felt Maeglin's words were only putting off the inevitable and said, "Very well. We shall follow your advice."


Later in the day, after the Council had adjourned, Galdor left the palace alone, carrying a carved horse-and-knight prettily wrapped in embroidered cloth. He walked by himself for some time, until a familiar voice called his name. He turned in surprise and saw Duilin jogging to catch up to him, carrying a parcel over his own, clothed in hand painted silk.

"Duilin! What brings you down here?" Galdor asked his soft voice as near to surprise as it ever got.

"I came to see Firthol," Duilin explained, slowing his pace once he was abreast with the other. He held out the bundle. "This is a rattle for his child."

Galdor smiled. "And I am going to see Laegnis, the proud new mother. Your gift is wrapped very beautifully," he added.

Duilin grinned. "Of course, it is. Elyéta decorated it." He paused, biting his lip then, remembering that Galdor's wife had chosen to stay in the West.

Galdor smiled wistfully. "You are smiled on, my friend," he said. Duilin put a hand on the Lord's shoulder, trying to encourage him. "Come now," he urged gently. "We are about to go into a house where all is happiness. We should leave our problems on the threshold."

Galdor sighed. "So, this is where you choose to speak your wisdom," he said wryly.


He watched constellations of fireflies as they stitched the darkness with their light. The wind, his old friend, was light and warm, and it probed at him, asking him what lay tucked away in the future.

He wished he knew. And he wished that it would be in the shape of a tiny hand that held his fingers.

He had been allowed to hold the newborn infant and had felt at once shocked and rooted to something far deeper than anything else: the endless cycle of life. The baby had felt so light, looked so perfect in his hands. It had made him realize how much he wanted a child.

Two arms hugged him for behind in a sweet embrace. "Does something trouble my husband?"

Duilin took her hands in his and squeezed. "Not when my wife is here."

"Your wife knows that you are lying," she returned. "Why did you not come home?"

Duilin turned in Elyéta's embrace until he could see her eyes. She was smiling expectantly up at him.

"Have you ever thought of children, Elyéta?" he asked earnestly.

She paused, thoughtful. "I suppose not."

"Would you like to have one... soon?"

Her eyes widened; she let go of him and began to pace restlessly around the walls. "What made you think of children?" she asked at last.

"I went to see Firthol's baby. I only expected to congratulate my soldier but then I held the child...and... Elyéta, what I felt...it was..." he said in a broken voice that amazed his wife. "I cannot describe it. But it felt so right in my heart. I never knew that something was missing: after all, I have my House and my City. And I have you, melmë. But to have a child?"

Elyéta listened to her husband with downcast eyes. "Do you know what my amil said of children, Duilin? She said that having a child was having your heart taken out of you. Once you are a parent, your heart beat in your son or your daughter. And... and..."

Duilin realized what his wife was saying, and he took her shoulders gently. "But it would not be only your heart. It would be both of our hearts. And we would be such fine parents! Not perfect, for no one is perfect, but our child would be loved so much." He paused, smiling at her as she finally met his eyes. "Think about it! A girl! A girl with your beautiful eyes and your talent!"

She smiled back at him, timidly. "Or a son with your swiftness and keen eyes. Or maybe a son with my love for art and a girl with your love for weapons."

He nodded eagerly. "Why not both?"

"Both!" Elyéta cried, astonished.

"It is only a thought. We would only have one, to begin with. I wish for a girl, who is as kind and lovely as her mother."

Elyéta's smile blossomed, her eyes bright and silver. Duilin gazed back at her with fond hope. "So, what do you think?" he asked.

"Duilin...it is not that I do not want children... but that is such a great undertaking. Let me think about it. After all, we have all the time we need."

Duilin hugged her tenderly, kissing her forehead. "All the time you need, melmë."


Waiting for your reviews, guys!