Kinda, sorta canon compliant.
Non-canon name:
Nórimo - swift runner
Maeglin shivered where he sat on the floor of his wardrobe. The clothes that his uncle had gifted him hung around him and made the space smaller, more manageable. It was unlike the overwhelmingly open plain that Gondolin sat in. It was not the first time he had taken refuge in his closet. It was the first time however that he had spent more than a day holed up there.
It was because of the White. It had fallen from the sky five days ago and hadn't gone away. It stayed on the ground in forbidding looking mounds that shifted when disturbed. On top of that, it reflected the light and made his eyes hurt. Maeglin vowed that he would stay away from the White until it was cleaned up (or left; Maeglin still wasn't sure if it was sentient). He had hated Nan Elmoth. It was dark and confining, just like Eöl had been. Gondolin, however, felt open and exposed, like something was sitting up in the sky just watching him. He shivered and wished his mother was here.
"Maeglin?" someone called, "Are you in here?"
Maeglin didn't answer. He knew that as soon as he did, they would drag him out and force him to face the White. So instead, he sat in a miserable heap, knowing that he was a coward, but unable to face his fears. He couldn't help himself, he gave a little sniffle. As soon as he did, he realized his mistake. His guest heard the small noise and softly approached his hiding place. One of the doors creaked open partway and a pair of keen eyes peered in. They quickly spotted him. To Maeglin's surprise, he was not forced out of hiding place.
"Ah, so that's where you've been hiding," the unfamiliar elf said softly, settling down just outside the wardrobe. The cut of his facial features reminded Maeglin a lot of his Uncle Turgon, but his hair was blond.
"Please… I didn't mean to…I'm sorry," Maeglin stammered, unsure what he was trying apologize for.
"No, no. You're fine. My cousin was getting worried, so I thought I ought to track you down before he calls out the King's Guard to find you."
"I didn't do anything," Maeglin shrunk back further. For the first time, the small space felt entrapping. He had nowhere to run if guards were called.
"I know. Turgon does too. He just gets a little paranoid when people go missing."
"I can't ever leave can I?"
"Well, no, but that's not what I meant. On the Helcarxë, all you had to do was turn your back for a few moments and people could go missing. That's how Turgon lost his wife. That's how he nearly lost Idril too. The fear has never really left him. If he's worry about your disappearance then that means he cares for you."
"Oh," Maeglin breathed, more than a little relieved that his uncle wasn't going to order a manhunt for a perceived deserter.
"I'm Glorfindel, by the way," the blond said smiling brilliantly.
"I'm Maeglin."
"Yes, you are kid," Golrfindel gave a small laugh, "And I do believe that most of Gondolin knows that."
Maeglin felt himself flush in embarrassment.
"I'm not a kid!" Maeglin protested, "Eöl said that I was more than old enough for Amma to stop coddling me and for me to start pulling my weight."
"Look, kid-"
"Maeglin. My name is Maeglin," Maeglin snapped. Not being called by his name reminded him of his father and how Eöl for the first twelve years of his life merely called him 'son' or, if he was feeling less than generous, 'brat'.
"Right, right. Sorry," Glorfindel held his hands up in assent, "What I was going to say Maeglin, you can't be older than hundred and fifty years. So, yes, to me, you are a kid."
"I'm eighty, I think. Amma and I stopped counting after I turned fifty and Eöl said that she didn't have the right to baby me any more."
"Oromë's horns, kid- sorry, Maeglin. You're younger than I thought," Glorfindel breathed, brow drawn in concern.
"Does he have horns?" Maeglin asked sheepishly.
"Who? What?"
"Oromë. Does he have horns?"
"I…I don't rightly know. I never met him up close. That would be a question for my cousin Celegorm."
"Tyelko Nórimo?"
"Yes." An odd look came over Glorfindel's face. Maeglin couldn't decide if it was surprise at the fact that Maeglin knew not only Celegorm's Quenya name, but also his epessë that Aredhel had gifted him, or if it was disgust at the mention of his rather feral, kinslaying cousin. They lapsed into silence for several long minutes. It took Maeglin a long time before he screwed up his courage enough to ask a burning question.
"Is it gone yet?" Maeglin whispered. He hadn't left the wardrobe since yesterday night when he had snuck out to retrieve the glass of water on his nightstand. He had been afraid to look out the window.
"Is what gone?"
"The… the…the White…" Maeglin stammered, ducking his head to avoid the blow he knew would come.
"The White?" Glorfindel said pensively before getting up and striding out of view.
Maeglin froze. This was it. The tall elf knew that he was a coward and was going for his sword. When he came back he would no doubt run Maeglin through for having fears just as Eöl had threatened on more than one occasion to do.
He need to run.
Now.
Before he convince himself that running was the right choice, soft footfalls hailed the return of Glorfindel.
"Do you mean this?" Glorfindel held a handful of the white stuff out. Maeglin refused to touch it. So this is how it would end. They knew his fear, now they would exploit it for torture.
"You can touch it," the blond elf offered.
"No! I will not…. I mean, if it pleases my lord, I don't want to touch it," Maeglin stammered, pressing as far back as he could go. He steeled himself, preparing for the moment that Glorfindel would snarl at him and rub the White in his face.
"Please, Maeglin, just Glorfindel. None of that 'my lord' business. And you don't have to touch it if you don't want to."
"What is it?" Maeglin breathed fearfully.
"Snow," the older elf replied, "Didn't you know that?"
Maeglin studied him warily. Glorfindel's face and posture were open, not mocking or demeaning as Eöl's would have been. He finally shook his head, ashamed of the admission.
"Snow?" Maeglin frowned. His mother had mentioned 'snow' before, but he never understood what she was talking about. "Is it dangerous?"
"Yes and no. In large quantities is can become dangerous," Glorfindel noticed Maeglin's horrified expression, so he hurried on, "But small quantities, like what we get in Gondolin, are not."
"Promise?" Maeglin chewed on his lip. He knew he was acting childish.
"On my life," Glorfindel said solemnly, "Would you like to come out and see? The sun is setting and makes everything quite beautiful."
Against his better judgement, Maeglin allowed himself to be coaxed from his hiding place. Glorfindel led him down several long hallways to a balcony. Maeglin balked at the doorway, unable to bring himself to step on the White…snow. Glorfindel seemed to understand. He merely hooked a finger under Maeglin's chin and lifted up. Maeglin's eyes wend wide as he took in the view.
The balcony gave a magnificent view. Below them lay the city and the plane. It was all covered in the… snow. The setting sun had almost sunk completely behind the encircling mountains. It bathed the whole scene in a russet light, reminding Maeglin of the autumn leaves he and his mother had passed on their frantic escape. The snow glittered and sparkled like it was make out of small jewels. As the sun sank lower, the light changed from red to purple to blue and the first stars glinted in the cloudless sky. Each shift in the light brought forth colors Maeglin didn't realize existed.
They stood there until the stars had full come out, blazing brightly on the moonless night. Maeglin was the first to pull away, not because he was board of the view but because he could take the frigid air no longer. Glorfindel led him down another hallway and through a grand set of double doors. Maeglin followed him before freezing. His uncle sat at a large desk, pouring over a book and sipping from a steaming mug. He wasn't wearing the crown and royal robes that Maeglin had seen him in every other time.
"Turvo, I'm going to adopt him!" Glorfindel loudly announced. Maeglin winced at the volume and slunk back behind his blond companion, trying make himself as small as possible.
Turgon choked on his drink in surprise. As he hacked for breath, he looked up to see who had disturbed him so rudely.
"Findelë! For crying out loud, he's an adult," Turgon finally spluttered.
"Barely. He's eighty, Turvo. I know that coming of age here is fifty, but back in Aman, he would still legally be a child," Glorfindel argued.
Maeglin bristled. He wasn't a child. Eöl had beaten that lesson into his son, quiet literally.
"But this isn't Aman, Findelë."
"Yes, but he has lived in isolation most of his life, if I understand his story correctly. On top of that he just lost both parents and he's been left alone in an unfamiliar city with relatives he doesn't trust. He isn't comfortable, he needs support."
Turgon turned his calculating gaze to Maeglin.
"He has a point, nephew. You need to be in someone's care while you get your feet under you. Would you rather join my house or my cousin's until you are comfortable on your own?"
Maeglin looked at his shoes. He knew what he wanted to choose, but he was afraid to voice his opinion.
"It's alright to speak, Maeglin," Turgon sighed with worry, "No one will hurt you for speaking you mind. We want to hear what you have to say."
"I want to join Glorfindel, if that is alright with my lord," Maeglin mumbled.
Glorfindel whooped before tossing Maeglin over his shoulder. Maeglin squawked and thrashed in protest, but Glorfindel was bigger and stronger than he was. He finally gave up and let himself hang limp, face near Glorfindel's butt.
"You heard him Turvo! Better luck next time," the blond crowed. Maeglin marveled at the fact that Glorfindel addressed Turgon in such a familial way. He was even more amazed at the fact that Turgon allowed it.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was a competition of popularity," Turgon snorted. Maeglin couldn't see his uncle from where he hung, but it sounded like his Turgon was trying not to laugh.
"If that were the case, I would always win," Glorfindel laughed, "Now if you'll excuse me, my liege, Maeglin and I are going to get better acquainted and see if we can have some fun."
Glorfindel swung around and started off towards the door.
"If you dump any more snow on Ecthelion, I will not save you from his wrath again," Turgon called after them. Maeglin craned his head and was surprised to the mischievous smile on his uncle's face.
Maybe Gondolin wasn't so bad?