AUTHOR'S NOTES
General: In my huge monster of a story, 'The Seven Gates', readers will now miss the Gondolin subplot for quite some time. The narrative left it off right after Tarnin Austa in FA 467, and it will only "go back" there in the winter. I simply can't cram more Gondolin-scenes in between the chapters of the main plot, because then, the story would never end :D so when I saw that Gondolin Week was really happening, I thought - what if I just created a short 'Meanwhile in Gondolin'- collection? And Lo & Behold!
STORY SETTING: Tyelcano, counsellor to Nelyafinwe & generally notorious Feanorean follower has arrived to Gondolin, and Not Everyone is Pleased - least of all Tyelcano himself, forbidden as he is to leave. It seems that he has to accept his new home, settle in, and make new friends. Naturally, not everyone wants to be friends with him - some watch him suspiciously from afar, some invite him for a drink, some annoy him out of his wits.
DAY 1 - EGALMOTH
PROMPT SETTING: In 'The Seven Gates': When Tyelcano came - quite by accident, and pursued by Orcs - to the First Gate of Gondolin, Elemmakil had charged at the Orcs, pursuing them far out into the wastelands, which had nearly cost him his life, as he had endangered the secrecy of Gondolin. His life, however, was spared; although the details of how exactly that happened are not yet known. (Headcanon: Elemmakil is Egalmoth's captain, from the House of the Heavenly Arch).
POV: Egalmoth
NOTHING GREATER
The vigil had been long; and even on the first morning of Summer, the air was still crisp in the mountain-lands. The shimmering blue cloak that had been a true nuisance through the entire evening, was now a blessing to Egalmoth; and still, he felt the urge to shiver as the wind rose. He suppressed it; for the Lords of Gondolin did not shiver.
Elemmakil was standing next to him in the courtyard – sane and whole, thank the Valar –, his gaze fixed adamantly upon King's Turgon's back, who was talking to an unfamiliar Elf, and rather ardently.
"So," said Egalmoth, with sudden insight, "there stands the one who nearly got you killed."
"Aye, my Lord," said Elemmakil, in his peculiar tone of detached obedience. "There he stands – and I wish to thank him."
"It is rather he who should thank you," said Egalmoth sharply.
"Were you the one who talked to Lómion to lift my sentence, then?" Elemmakil looked at him in wonder. "You told me there was no hope."
"I said there was little hope," Egalmoth granted his captain a tired smile. "No – as much as I would have liked it to be so, it was not my doing. Still, I stand by my word: he has much to thank you, and you have outdone yourself, risking your life for one who is not of our own. Do not forget that."
"Captain Laurefindil said that all Quendi were of our own, my lord," said Elemmakil thoughtfully.
Laurefindil is too good to exist, Egalmoth thought, and if Ecthelion was not there to drag him out of the pits his chivalry pushes him into, he would not last a day in these lands.
"The Captain is right, of course," he said aloud. "Still, you are one that I trust, and I do not wish to lose you over the whims of a kinslayer."
Because that is what he is beneath all the glamour and lordliness, he thought bitterly. One of Fëanáro's own.
It was hard to tell: that much, he had to admit. Tyelcano of Himring seemed every inch a knight – or rather a master of lore if one looked at him today, with his wavy dark hair and slender hands, his face frozen into an expression of solemn concern as the King got more and more absorbed in his explication of some urgent-looking matter. Egalmoth knew this Tyelcano to be one of the Lords of Tirion of old, advisor to Finwë, then Fëanáro, and now Nelyafinwë.
Briefly, he wondered if any of those lords had ever actually listened to his counsel, or if Tyelcano had ever truly dared to advise them against anything they wished to do. Egalmoth himself, in all honesty, had always suspected that the secret to being a trusted Counsellor was to say what one's lord wished to hear, and nothing more – which was partially why he had never chosen to take one.
"Vinyamar was the first thing I have seen of this world," said Elemmakil softly, "and I cannot claim to truly understand the sorrow of those who have walked in Aman, saw the Trees blossom, and had all that taken away from them. I grieve for your loss, my Lord; yet believe me when I say that this Elf is not evil. Great wrongs he might have done in Alqualondë and Losgar; but the scout who came with him, the one who died… he was far below him in rank, stature or even age; and still the lord had tried to stand on his broken leg, insisting that we would save his companion first, and leave him to fall.
"I believe you," said Egalmoth, "and that is exactly what I fear the most in him."
Elemmakil looked at him, bewildered. "I do not understand."
Egalmoth turned away from him, and the King, and the sight of the kinslayer.
"Evil, one can fight," he said, "and broken trust, one can mend. Yet the damage done by one who believes their deeds selfless and righteous, done in service of a greater purpose: there is nothing greater in this world, Elemmakil! Nor more terrible."