Hello guys!

First of all, I want to thank Celridel for her editing as a wonderful beta as well as I want to thank d'elfe, Ducking Cute and idonthaveaname for their interesting reviews.

In this chapter, we'll see the three couples and how are they faring: Idril and Túor, Alassë and Maeglin and, of course, Glorfindel and Laura.

Waiting for your reviews, guys!


Chapter 56: Falling

The rising Sun found Idril and Tuor on the same bench.

They had talked through the night, savoring each other's company, listening to each other like the words spoken were golden, and loved the silences even more than the conversation.

In Tuor, Idril found something she had never found before. He had a gift for making people love him; men, women, children, dogs-anything with two eyes and a sense of goodness. There was a depth to him, something beyond the polished veneer of courtly convention, the polite mummery, the song-and-dance politicians, and leaders must perform. His conversation flowed with sincere listening and intelligent responses, and he seemed to glow with an easy, golden light. He was a sun, a star, a man, more than a man, the essence of everything noble and good. She had thought these things throughout the night and rejected them all, knowing they did not fully capture him.

In Idril, Tuor found a rare, complex soul, a coin with two sides. On one side was Idril, the golden Princess, who took the burden and knew the power, who played the part and seemed like a well-protected flower. Her father's aide and confidant, her City's symbol of hope and prosperity, a womanly figure, the Flower of Gondolin. Intelligent, vivacious, serene, a true noblewoman.

On the silver side was the Celebrindal, a brilliant, restless, hauntingly beautiful creature, someone fey at times and wise beyond the rights of men or gods. That part of her flew up to Tuor like a bird crying through the rain, something wild and eldritch and wrought of steel. That part of her appealed to his wanderlust, to his sea-longing. He felt that they could walk together, they could run together, they could sail together, they could feel and love the remorseless call of the Sea together. They could look at the rain and knew where it went, and look at the birds, and wish to have to wings.


A slight cough brought them apart, stopping their conversation. Elyéta stood a respectful distance away, smiling apologetically. "A thousand pardons, my lady, my lord, but the King wishes for you to join him at the morning meal, Princess."

"Of course," Idril said easily, standing and smoothing out her silver gown. "Lord Tuor, it has been delightful. Perhaps we can repeat it sometime."

"The pleasure has been all mine," he said, standing and bowing as if they had not been baring their hearts to each other ten minutes ago. "I shall see you soon, I hope?"

"Of course," Idril said, lifting her skirts so the dew would not dampen them, and went with Elyéta into the palace. Once they were inside the marble corridor, the door between them and him, Idril grabbed her lady-in-waiting's arm and asked eagerly. "Well, Elyéta? What do you think?"

Elyéta smiled. "That you should feel happy and confident, Princess."

Idril began to walk again, her hair gleaming in the light that came through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "And...what do you think... he thinks of me?" she inquired timidly.

Elyéta's face bloomed into another smile, this one more delighted than the last. "That he loves you. That he adores the ground you walk on. When he sees you, his eyes shine the way Duilin's shine when he sees me."

"Are you certain?" the Princess asked with the shyness and doubt of a child.

"Of course, my lady!" Elyéta insisted firmly. "Your fear is normal. When you find true love, it is to think it could never be requited. But Tuor all but overflows with love for you."

"But I am a Princess," Idril continued. "Do you think that will make a barrier between us?"

"Love cannot distinguish between a Princess and a servant. If he loves you, you will be the Queen of his heart, even if you do not own the clothes on your back. It may take time, but the day will come when he tells you that."

The Celebrindal looked at her uncertainly for a few moments, but the confidence with which her lady-in-waiting spoke encouraged and reassured her.

"Thank the gods for you, Elyéta, but we must go. I would not want to keep my father waiting. He becomes quite terrifying when he is hungry."


Tuor had remained behind in the garden. Although he had not slept the whole night, he did not feel tired but reflective. Thoughts marched around him, a tangled dance in the ballroom of his head, but they always came back to Idril.

Idril who he loved. He thought-or maybe that was only a wish-that she loved him. And what then? Their love would be brief, a candle lit on both ends, something tragically beautiful. And would she consent to that? To give up immortality for a few years with him? He found that hard to believe.


Maeglin tore across the grass, slamming his smithy door open with a burst of savage strength. Rage throbbed in his veins, alternately hot and cold.

He smelled the lilacs, and in a burst of fury, swept them off the anvil. The crystal shattered on the stone ground, and the flowers lay weeping in the pooling water.

"Maeglin?"

The voice was timid, the voice of a field mouse who tries to stand in the way of a charging tiger.

Alassë's eyes were riveted to the litter of crystal and lilacs on the ground. He turned towards her; his black eyes filled with such bitter, thwarted rage that she nearly choked on her own breath.

Nevertheless, she came towards him, putting her hands on his muscle-knotted shoulder.

"Not now, Alassë," he growled, shrugging her off.

Alassë felt hurt envelope her, but she tried again, following Maeglin as he paced across the smithy, stamping out the stone with his anger.

"Maeglin, if you will not tell me, how can I help you?"

He swung around to face her, smiling a bright, hard smile that cut her worse than any knife. "Alassë, why do you think I want your help?"

The Sinda's eyes widened, but she was nothing if not loyal. "You may not want it, but you need it. I promised you that I would be by your side, and I always keep my promises. What is it, Maeglin?"

Maeglin drew a deep breath as a sliver of reason asserted itself. Whatever was happening, Alassë was not to blame. "You cannot help me with this," he said coldly. "It is better you go."

"Maeglin-"

"Go!" he ordered, his voice stentorian, pointing to the smithy door. "I do not want you here!"

"Why are you doing this? Why are you suddenly treating me like pissant?"

"I am a Prince," Maeglin said harshly. "I am the Prince of Gondolin, and you will obey me, Alassë."

"Yes, you are the Prince," she said sweetly, trying to mitigate his wrath. "And I respect your authority, but-"

"There is nothing to argue about, Alassë! Why are you not gone?" he said. He was furious at what he had witnessed in the palace garden, but that was no reason for him to treat Alassë so cruelly. He realized that he had hurt her, but he did not feel any desire to apologize, he only had the desire to destroy and cause the same pain that he felt.

"Alassë," he said in a strained voice, making a mighty effort to maintain his composure as he clung to the edge of his worktable. "Please leave."

"But Maeglin-"

"Get out of here right now!" he shouted, turning on her like an enraged panther. Alassë recoiled, taking several steps backward, then turned and ran.

Maeglin stood in the doorway, watching Alassë disappear. After a time, he turned back into the smithy and picked up Idril's gift. He wrapped the necklace around his hands and pulled. The golden chain cut deep into his skin, becoming red, and then it flew apart. He dropped it on the ground and stepped over it to the shattered vase. He crouched down and picked up a lilac.

Alassë always brought him flowers, and he liked the way they brightened his workplace, just like the pretty Sinda had.

The lilac sprig was trampled and damp, its delicate flowers bruised, but it smelled beautiful. That was Alassë, always there for him, giving him in the love that had been denied since birth, but now he wondered if she would come back.

In his gut, Maeglin recognized that this was the end of the golden age of his life. If Idril would not recognize his own love, how could she stoop to love a simple messenger, the pet courier of the gods? Idril, the creature made of light, would let her brilliance be extinguished by a mortal?

He knew Idril loved the Man, knew the Man loved her back. And how was that right?

Betrayal cleaved his heart.

He understood that love and hate lie on the same spectrum, and he felt the scales tipping towards hatred. Idril, like a goddess with all her beauty, so filled with light she almost overflowed. And had he thought, at times, that she was simply immune to love? That she was wild and untamable? And then she had tumbled, tripped over her own dancing feet, into the arms of a Man. Tumbled into an unnatural love that was pale and cold compared to the love he could give her.

He stood up, and picked up the glass shards and the flowers, throwing them in the dustbin. If Alassë came back, perhaps he would apologize. But there was no point in continuing the pretense. His heart, whatever remained of it, belonged to Idril, and would all the days of his life.


Flashback

"Well, what do you think?" Laura asked as she showed Glorfindel through her new house. Maeglin had designed it for her and had enlisted some of his house in the building.

The house was small, airy, filled with clean lines, flawless craftsmanship, and understated elegance. It was in a high place, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and the terrace faced Westward. On the roof was a small room, which Laura had turned into an observatory.

On either side of the main door were gray stone benches, painted grey liked the house, with veins that mimicked marble, and in the back was a minute flower garden, with a small wisteria tree and flowers that were easy to care for.

"It is very beautiful, Maistalda," Glorfindel said approvingly. "And will you tend to the garden?"

Laura nodded. "Yes. Not my area of expertise but Alassë has promised to teach me."

"Alassë?" the half-Vanya repeated, surprised. "And she is your...friend?"

"Believe it or not, yes," Laura said coldly, truly offended.

Glorfindel was silent: although his comment had not been kind, it was understandable. "My apologies; that was uncalled for," he said. "Who is Alassë?"

Laura felt hurt, but on the other hand, she could not hold a grudge against Glorfindel. Instead, she sighed. "Alassë is a Sinda who sells fruit at the Lesser Market. She taught me to write Tengwar and it's nice to have a female friend. I can talk to Alassë about things I can't really talk to you about."

Glorfindel stood beside her, far enough away so that they would not touch. "For example?"

"Well, fashion, relationships, jewelry. Things like that."

Glorfindel shrugged. "Egalmoth and Maeglin seem to talk of nothing but jewels and Salgant is quite an authority on fashion. And we talk of love among the Lords."

Laura shrugged. "Okay, fine. But if I started telling you about my monthly cycles, who would you feel?"

"I would send you down to the Healing Houses," Glorfindel said.

Laura laughed. "Probably. But my point is Alassë is a treasure."

"I am sure she is," Glorfindel agreed.

"Yeah, she's teaching me how to be a gardener." Laura snorted. "Seems ironic."

"Not at all," Glorfindel said mildly. "It is better to be a warrior in the garden, then a gardener in a war. Besides, nature is not forced to be scoffed at."

Laura crossed her arms. "Who would say that an assassin would have her own personal garden?"

Glorfindel looked at her. "Former assassin," he reminded her.

"Okay. Former assassin," Laura rejoined sullenly.

"Laura, enough," he said. "You love Nature-you befriended a pack of wolves."

Laura returned his gaze. "You're right. I'm sorry I keep bringing this up," she said. "I already forgave myself, Glorfindel, but that doesn't mean what I did can't be undone. I'm reminded of that every time I look in a mirror. I'm an experiment: created to kill."

"You were," he agreed. "Now you are another person, Maistalda, of that I am sure. You are more than an experiment; you are a person."

Laura raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Are you sure?" she asked in a low voice.

"As sure as I am of my own life," he replied, smiling.

End of Flashback


Glorfindel stood in the antechamber, waiting to deliver his report to the King.

He watched the ingots of sunlight come through the long, narrow windows, remembering the night before.

It was clear Laura's sense of personal identity was intricately tied together with the ideas of 'experiment' 'assassin' and 'Facility.' She kept bringing the subject up because she wanted him to reassure her. His unthinking exclamation of 'You are more than that to me, Maistalda!' had lowered her barriers for a minute. He had seen surprise and something he could not identify in her green eyes.

But still, Laura was knotted up in the idea that she was nothing more than an experiment, something that had come from a test-tube, to be implanted in a foreign womb, a tumor thrust into the world. If she saw herself like that, she would push him away when he confessed his love for her. And she would push him away hard because she could not believe anyone could love her.

It seemed like an unsolvable problem.

He thought these thoughts with some desperation, and ran his hand through his loose hair, trying to gather the paltriest scraps of an idea.

"What troubles you, my Lord?" asked Turgon's voice from the door.


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