Ooh, look. Yet anoter boredom-inspired Gondolin-fic. Woo-hoo.
A Secret Long Kept
For fifty-two years the people of Turgon worked in secret, building the city that would become their new home. Great and fair it was, the city upon the island-rock in Tumladen; as fair as the memories of Tirion in Valinor. And hidden it was too, within a range of mountains. Eagles guarded it, and the one entrance was barred with many gates.
Finally, after long years of secret toil, the city was finished. Slowly, in small groups, the people of Nevrast removed themselves tothe Hidden Kingdom. Finally none were left save the King and his household. As they prepared to leave, Ulmo, the Lord of the Waters, came forth and spoke once more to the King.
Much passed between them, and that is recounted in other tales than this, but the last of the people of Nevrast departed later than expected. Behind them lay an abandoned kingdom, but in the great hall a helm and mail and a sword were left, waiting for one who was not yet born.
Many weeks was the journey, until finally the King came to his new realm. Six gates he passed through, gates of Wood, of Stone and of Bronze, and three further of Writhen Iron, Silver and Gold. Then, as the last gate passed behind him, he beheld his kingdom.
Far away, across the green fields of the hidden valley, glinted the city he had ordered built. Closer than this, however, was the immense welcoming group who awaited the King's arrival. As they saw him, all rose and began to chant. Music played, but it was drowned out by the multitudinous voices.
Those of the Noldor blood took up the chant first, repeating time after time the name Turgon had appointed for the city, the Rock of the Music of the Water, Ondolinde. But when the majority of the group, those of the Grey-elven kindred, took up the cry, Turgon noted a change in the name. Slowly, Ondolinde changed to Sindarin, and became Gondolin, the Hidden Rock. Although it was not the name he himself had appointed, it still satisfied him.
As the last of Turgon's escort rode from the ravine into the light of the sun, there rang out from the great horn beside the last gate seven great blasts. As the last echoes faded, the Gate of Gold slammed shut with a great noise and was sealed. Long would it remain so, and long would the secret of Gondolin be kept. But nothing can stand forever.
* * * *
No, that wasn't very good. No, it won't be continued. Yes, I have become totally obsessed with Gondolin. I want it.
hS
A Secret Long Kept
For fifty-two years the people of Turgon worked in secret, building the city that would become their new home. Great and fair it was, the city upon the island-rock in Tumladen; as fair as the memories of Tirion in Valinor. And hidden it was too, within a range of mountains. Eagles guarded it, and the one entrance was barred with many gates.
Finally, after long years of secret toil, the city was finished. Slowly, in small groups, the people of Nevrast removed themselves tothe Hidden Kingdom. Finally none were left save the King and his household. As they prepared to leave, Ulmo, the Lord of the Waters, came forth and spoke once more to the King.
Much passed between them, and that is recounted in other tales than this, but the last of the people of Nevrast departed later than expected. Behind them lay an abandoned kingdom, but in the great hall a helm and mail and a sword were left, waiting for one who was not yet born.
Many weeks was the journey, until finally the King came to his new realm. Six gates he passed through, gates of Wood, of Stone and of Bronze, and three further of Writhen Iron, Silver and Gold. Then, as the last gate passed behind him, he beheld his kingdom.
Far away, across the green fields of the hidden valley, glinted the city he had ordered built. Closer than this, however, was the immense welcoming group who awaited the King's arrival. As they saw him, all rose and began to chant. Music played, but it was drowned out by the multitudinous voices.
Those of the Noldor blood took up the chant first, repeating time after time the name Turgon had appointed for the city, the Rock of the Music of the Water, Ondolinde. But when the majority of the group, those of the Grey-elven kindred, took up the cry, Turgon noted a change in the name. Slowly, Ondolinde changed to Sindarin, and became Gondolin, the Hidden Rock. Although it was not the name he himself had appointed, it still satisfied him.
As the last of Turgon's escort rode from the ravine into the light of the sun, there rang out from the great horn beside the last gate seven great blasts. As the last echoes faded, the Gate of Gold slammed shut with a great noise and was sealed. Long would it remain so, and long would the secret of Gondolin be kept. But nothing can stand forever.
* * * *
No, that wasn't very good. No, it won't be continued. Yes, I have become totally obsessed with Gondolin. I want it.
hS