Hi people!
First of all I want to thank Celridel for her immense help in editing this story. Also I want to thank d'elfe, Amberdeengirl17 and Ducking Cute for their very important and encouraging reviews.
The last chapter was about Idril having doubts about her love for Tuor and the terrible decision that King Turgon decided before the message of the Vala Ulmo as well as a conversation between Glorfindel and Laura.
Don't worry Ducking Cute, Glorfindel will confess his love to Laura but first must happen some things so he can do it.
Waiting for your reviews, guys!
Chapter 55: Life Without Love, Tree Without Blossoms
Elyéta sat beneath the silver-green canopy, her chin in her hand as she sketched. The solitary weeping willow, the place where Duilin had found her nearly two decades ago, had become her secret place, a haven filled with beauty, comfort, and silence.
Twenty years ago, she had been painting a portrait of Ardyl. Now, she drew a robin mother with her chicks. Since Duilin had broached the subject of children, Elyéta could not stop thinking of it, and her art reflected that inner turmoil.
She finished the robin's tailfeather and smudged the charcoal with her finger. "Ardyl, I do miss you," she said quietly. Her little friend had passed on several years ago, and although Duilin had shown her countless birds, she had never found the heart to replace him. It had been a hard blow for her.
"That is only natural. He was very dear to you."
Elyéta looked up inquiringly as the drooping branches of her willow parted. The Celebrindal ducked inside, throwing the hood of her cloak back. Elyéta leaped to her feet, curtseying. "My Lady! I did not know you required your ladies-in-waiting. Allow me a minute and I'll accompany you back."
Idril shook her head and knelt beside Elyéta's sketch, turning it around to examine it in the green light. "Never mind that. Are these Ardyl's chicks?" she asked.
Elyéta shook her head. "No. His descendants all live in the forest. They will not come into the city."
"Then why did you draw chicks?"
"Duilin wants children," Elyéta admitted in a low voice. "I...am conflicted, and I suppose my art shows that."
Idril laid down the sketch, looking up into Elyéta's face. So, the Swallow must have softened far more then he let on. "Why? Do you not want children?"
"Oh no!" Elyéta exclaimed. "I want children, only I'm afraid. I am afraid of failing, of being a poor mother. My brother raised me as best he could, but he was always a brother, so I have no one to emulate. And I want to be the best mother I can be. I want to be perfect."
"You never will be perfect, Elyéta, but you will be the best for your children. Your child will be very lucky to have you and Lord Duilin as their parents."
"Are you sure, my lady? I am afraid to fail."
"Beyond sure, and you will not fail," Idril said confidently, smiling at the young painter.
Elyéta returned the smile shyly, but it faded away soon as she met the Celebrindal's eyes. "Pardon my forwardness, but it seems I am not the only one who is afraid."
Idril sighed and motioned for Elyéta to sit on the green carpet next to her. "I need to confide in someone, Elyéta. And I trust you. Can you give me your opinion and advice?"
"My advice?" Elyéta exclaimed, her eyes wide. "My Lady, you are wisest in Gondolin. You hardly need my advice."
"No, I do," Idril said earnestly. She hugged her knees to her chest. "I have no experience in matters of the heart, and you are happily married."
"So, you are in love?" Elyéta asked. She relaxed a little, leaning against the willow trunk.
Idril nodded slowly.
"So who is the lucky one?"
For the first time, Idril discovered uncertainty. She flicked a sideways glance at the painter, who was smiling expectantly at her.
"The newcomer," she said softly. "I think I am in love with Tuor."
Elyéta gasped and Idril looked shyly at her. The painter's hands had flown to her face like two white birds, and her eyes glowed. "Oh Idril!" she cried in a low voice, overflowing with joy. Overcome by her happiness, she hugged the stunned Princess.
Idril stiffened, then unwound into the warm embrace. "Wonderful?" she said when Elyéta had let her go. "What is so wonderful about half of my soul being mortal?"
"Hardly a Mortal. He is a messenger of a Vala."
"But why does that help me? I have heard that Beren was a great man, but both he and Lúthien will partake in a mortal's fate."
"True but answer me this. Would you rather live a few decades in complete happiness, being fulfilled and safe and loved? Or live eternity knowing that you could have been happy, and you threw that chance away?"
Idril opened her mouth, then closed it again. Elyéta dared to take her lady's hands, holding them gently as if they were close friends.
"Princess, Love is a gift, a gift not everyone is given. Do not throw it away because you are afraid. Lord Tuor is a scion from a great House, a House that your father befriended. More than that, he is a great man, deemed worthy to be a messenger of the Válar. You and he are so different from everyone else around you. I don't know what is, but when I see you, I think you have been given a double share of life and light, and when I see him, I think the same thing. The One gave you Tuor because he knows how extraordinary you are. And perhaps from this union, will come a new hope for both our kinds."
Idril frowned a little. Elyéta's words echoed in her heart, and she sensed their truth.
"So, has he spoken to you?" the painter asked curiously.
Idril shook her head, feeling a flush rising in her cheeks. "No. We have not spoken since the feast."
The other smiled sympathetically. "Well, here is my advice. If your heart sings when you see him, follow that song. The One will decide what happens, and there are no better hands to trust."
Idril nodded slowly, her eyes soft and childish. Then she stood up, followed by Elyéta. "Thank you," she said earnestly to her lady-in-waiting. "Please, don't tell anyone about this."
"It is secret between you and me."
The Princess nodded and stepped out from under the willow. A second later, she parted the branches again, saying softly, "Elyéta, if how you have guided me is any example, you will be the most excellent mother a child can ask for."
"Never think that a battle will be fair and honorable! You will never find honor on a battlefield! Honor in war was an idea made up by the people who stayed home. Do you understand me?"
The ellon on the ground looked up at her with shocked eyes. Laura pulled him to his feet. "Again," she ordered, in a voice that did not admit reply.
In a corner of the Training Square, Glorfindel watched. Ostensibly, it was to monitor the recruits' progress, but he spent every chance he could get there, watching the love of his life.
In truth, the love of his life was a hard teacher, almost cruel. She was so incredibly demanding the half-Vanya had once told her that this was not the Facility. She had elbowed him in the ribs and said 'I don't care if you like what I do, Blondie. I get results.'
Twilight was coming fast. The year was growing old and leaves had begun to change colors, the song of cardinals tinging the air with autumn.
"So, she trains the recruits,"
Glorfindel turned and nodded amiably to Tuor, who was approaching him.
"I suppose surviving the Nírnaeth Arnoediad taught her a lot," the man added, standing beside the Lord.
Glorfindel was tall, slender but well-built, his face fair, his hair a river of gold. He was wearing the colors of his house, a mantle embroidered with threads of gold and green and strewn with celandine flowers as if he had decided to drape a field of flowers over his shoulders.
But Tuor was not easily overshadowed. The man was taller than Glorfindel, with the athletic physique of a skilled fighter. His hair and beard were a rich gold, like the color of a ripe wheat field. But beyond that was a warmth and power, an inner radiance that made people flock to be with him.
"Yes, she is very skilled in combat," the half-Vanya agreed, looking back to the fight. "How did you know she was in the Battle?"
"She told me," Tuor said. "It seems living in Gondolin preserves one's youth," he added with a wry quirk of his lips.
"Ah, so she has not told you," Glorfindel said.
"Told me what?"
"Duel with her," Glorfindel said. "I believe that will explain much."
There was a silence, where Tuor stood thoughtful and Glorfindel watched Laura. He never tired of seeing her. The woman with an exterior of steel had a golden heart that he needed to get to.
"What are you here for, my Lord?" Tuor asked, at last, seeing that Laura was dismissing her recruits.
"I come to see how the training is progressing," the Elf-Lord replied, looking away.
Húor's son smiled. So, he was not the only one sick with Love, nor was he the only one who had fallen in love with a woman outside his own kind.
Laura was coming over to them now and greeted Glorfindel with a nod. The Elf-Lord nodded back, smiling. "Laura, this is Tuor son of Húor, the Ulmondil. Although I believe you too have already met."
"Actually, we have," Laura said, extending her hand to the man. "It is good to see you again."
"Actually, Tuor has come for business," Glorfindel interposed, his eyes alight with mischief. "He wants to duel with you."
Laura groaned. "I've been fighting all day."
"Oh, come now," Glorfindel retorted, guiding Tuor towards the arena.
The woman hissed through her teeth. "Fine."
The Ring was lit with lamps that glowed with an amber shine. They cast a ruddy glow on Tuor's axe, Dramborleg, his faithful and terrible companion. His shield was the one he had found in Vinyamar, showing a white swan on a blue field.
Laura looked him up and down. Tuor had something in him, something that Laura could never had put into words, but it commanded her respect. However, the idea of fighting so mighty a warrior also gave her a surge of adrenaline. She unsheathed her claws, smiling ferally at Tuor's look of surprise.
"Begin!" Glorfindel called from outside the ring. As soon as the words had left his mouth, Laura had covered the distance between her and Tuor with one leap, unleashing a barrage of attacks that offered the man no quarter, as she gauged his abilities.
At last, Tuor stopped her with his axe, going on the offensive with a force that made the woman retreat. But Laura was not surprised for so long. She skipped and dodged around Tuor, then lunged at him with incredible speed, head-butting him with such force that the man stumbled backwards, dizzy.
The man recovered fast, feinting with the pike of his axe towards Laura's stomach. Pirouetting away from the blade, Laura was slammed with Tuor's shield, with enough force bright lights exploded in her vision.
Laura shook her head, trying to get rid of the dizziness. Before she could recover, Tuor swung his axe towards her shoulder, thinking she would slide under it. Instead, the weapon sank in almost to the bone, like a knife slicing through butter. He pulled it out, and ran over to her, frightening at the blood spilling out on the white arena sand.
But by the time he approached, the wound was only a faint red line, leaving only torn clothes and blood on the sand. Laura smiled at him, rolled to her feet, and hit him in the face. "Never let your guard down."
Tuor ducked under her claws, rolling several feet away from her, readying his axe and shield. His blue eyes shown with a power that was beyond mortals or immortals.
For the first time, and against her will, Laura began to retreat. Although she landed several well-placed blows, the odds were shifting tectonically towards Tuor.
Finally, with a sweeping blow from Dramborleg, Tuor held the razor edge of the axe at Laura's throat, pinning her between the stakes and his weapon.
Laura began to move towards the axe, as if she was still trying to attack him.
"Enough!" Tuor said sharply. Laura leaned backwards, Tuor's words making her feel guilty and humiliated.
"Alright. It was a friendly duel anyway," she muttered.
Tuor lowered his axe and Laura turned to Glorfindel. "Tuor won," she said sharply. "Happy now?"
"I see that," Glorfindel replied, looking straight at Laura, who pretended not to notice.
"It has been a pleasure," Tuor said. "But if I may, my Lord, Laura Kinney, I will retire."
As soon as the man was out of hearing range Glorfindel turned quickly to Laura. "Laura, why would you do that?"
"Do what?" she asked innocently.
"This is not the Facility. You were not in danger."
"You're wrong, Glorfindel. That man is not just any man. He was a real opponent, and I wanted to win. Winning is what I was designed to do, okay?"
"Do not say that! You were not 'designed'," Glorfindel said urgently.
Laura crossed her arms, her face going cold. "Don't change the subject. Tuor has a power in him. I was created to be the best fighter there is, but there is no way I could match his power. Maybe the Council should think twice about their decision."
Glorfindel sighed. "You may be right, but I doubt that a duel will change the King's mind."
"Let a Lord fight him in front of the King. That would prove something!"
"What if he loses?"
"Oh, believe me, he won't," Laura said. "They say that the eyes are the window of the soul, and I've seen many things through those windows, but never power like that."
"Very well," Glorfindel said, his voice subdued and sad, and began to move away.
Laura pivoted quickly and ran after him, blocking his path. "Glorfindel?" she asked softly. "What is it?"
When he looked at her Laura felt a chill run through all her nerves, reaching her heart. For a flickering instant, she thought she saw herself mirrored in his eyes, strong and beautiful, her scars ornaments of a special soul.
"Maistalda, you must never speak of yourself like that."
Laura shook her head angrily. "Look, I am an experiment. That's the harsh reality."
"It is not true!" Glorfindel shot back. "You are far more than that. You are more than an experiment to me, Maistalda."
Laura felt her heart stop, her blood suddenly frozen in her veins. Then she drew a deep breath, shaking a way the illusion. "It's true, we are BFFs," she said calmly, but inside she was crying, thinking how much she would give if they could be something else. "I'm sorry, I'll try not to say things like that. I'm going to take a bath. I must mend my shirt too. Have a blessed night."
Glorfindel stayed in place until she disappeared from sight.
Tuor's eyes were caught by movement on the steps, as the Princess went down into the gardens. It might have been a trick of the eye, but it seemed the starlight pooled around her golden head in a silver halo. She slipped quietly down the stairs, carrying a lyre in her hands.
He hesitated from his place in the shadowy alcove. He longed to follow her, but he also feared that she would be unhappy with that. He chose to shadow her at a distance, listening to her sing from a place that could not make her uncomfortable.
Shameless sea
Aimlessly so blue
Midnight-moon shines for you
Still, marooned
Silence drifting through
Nowhere to choose
Just blue ...
Ceaselessly
Star-crossed you and me
Save our souls
We'll be forever blue
Waves roll
Lift us in blue
Drift us
Seep right through
And color us blue
Wait for me
Shameless you, the sea
Soon, the Blue
So soon ...
She stopped abruptly, hearing the crack of a twig, and stood up, expecting the worst. "Who is there?" she called firmly. "Show yourself."
"It is I, my lady. I did not intend to disturb you."
Idril felt her heartbeat mimic the frantic beating of hummingbird wings, but she said with polite coolness, "How good to see you again, Lord Tuor. But I thought you were asleep. The moon is high."
He paused several arms-length from her. "On a normal night, I would be in my bed," he admitted. "But Lord Glorfindel insisted I duel Laura Kinney, and thus I am still awake."
"And who won?" Idril asked, sitting back on the bench.
"I, Princess."
Idril hoped her smile was hidden in the shadows.
"But it was a hard battle," Tuor continued. "She is a skilled fighter. And I accidentally wounded her, but the wound knitted. That a clever magic and I thought you could explain it to me. But I see I interrupted you, so I will leave you now."
"No need!" Idril said, quicker than she would have liked. Her heart seemed to be beating in her throat. "I can explain now, if you wish." She gestured to the marble bench.
Tuor sat at the other end. For an instant, he looked at her with an honest, innocent appreciation of her beauty, but somehow Idril sensed that he saw the greatest beauty within, and it made her blood warm.
"Thank you," Tuor said. He did not speak loudly but his voice rumbled in her teeth and bones like mellow thunder.
Idril considered what she was doing for a brief minute. Then he smiled at her, and she decided to surrender to Fate.
Unbeknownst to the two of them, a tall figure stood cloaked in shadow. Starlight caught the gift in his hand just before his hands closed into huge, muscular fists, hiding the gold from sight.
So... how can you confess the love to someone who thinks of herself a simple 'experiment'?
By the way, I want to say that the song that Idril is singing when Tuor finds her is a song named 'The Blue'. Is a song composed by the singer David Gilmour of his album 'On an island'.
Waiting for your reviews, guys!
