Chapter 2 - Earendil the Terrible
Gondolin the Song of Stone, the great Hidden City of King Turgon, gleamed like polished pearl in the morning light just as the sun crested Echoriath's circling heights, the sky paling from night's velvet-dark hue to dawn's golden glowing. The colorful lamps that hung in the trees were extinguished; cobwebs sparkled like strings of tiny diamonds amidst the gleaming leaves as the sun caressed them with its first touch. The euphonious sounds of the birds awakening filled the crystalline air, blending with the play of the fountains; the sparkling fall of water glistering as it leapt upward toward the sky then fell into the awaiting basins of carved pale stone. A few people were moving about the paved streets preparing for the market, placing cut flowers, bolts of cloth, exquisitely crafted jewelry, fruits and vegetables out for display. Soon the sound of children's voices would ring about the streets, voices filled with laughter and life.
Flowers bloomed in profusion, nestled in the tree-lined walkways and tumbling from window boxes and baskets. The Tarnin Austa - the Gates of Summer - had been celebrated not many nights hence and the feeling of wonder and rejoicing still lingered in the hearts of the Gondolindrim. Banners fluttered in the light breeze atop the slender carved towers of the city, their colors sharpening as the sky changed from its pale gold to light blue.
Three tall elves were walking through the streets, their merry laughter lifting about them as they headed for the King's Square and the palace. One had raven-dark locks; one flowing hair of polished silver; and the third had hair as shining bright as the sun. The three were great friends, lords of their Houses and at times, though they were strong warriors and wise counselors, were as lighthearted and mischievous as children. This very morning they had decided to gift their beloved king with an early serenade, for they were fine musicians also. Ecthelion, the leader of this joyous group, was laughing heartily as he lifted his silver flute to his lips and played a running trill of notes in anticipation of their dawn concert.
"Quiet!" Glorfindel chuckled. "We don't want to awaken him just yet!"
"Very true," Eglamoth agreed, though his lips twitched in amusement. "We have planned this perfectly since the day he sent courtiers to rouse us from bed before the sun rose for an urgent meeting, only to find out that he wanted us to assist him in choosing his robe for the day. He seemed overly pleased to see the three of us standing there, trying our best not to yawn in his presence. He deserves this, and I don't want it spoiled because you cannot contain your excitement for just a few moments more."
Ecthelion laughed and lowered his little flute, twirling it deftly between his fingers, the sun playing on its shining silver surface.
"Don't worry. I won't spoil our fun, but I am very excited about this!" He grinned at his companions, lifting his flute once more, grey eyes sparkling like fallen stars.
"You are as irredeemably mischievous as Earendil is, Ecthelion," Glorfindel laughed, hefting his small harp, and plucking a few quiet notes in accompaniment to Ecthelion's piping.
"Truly, you both are!" Eglamoth protested, laying one hand over Glorfindel's strings to still the music. "Earendil is probably already up and about, sailing his fleet of little boats in his grandfather's great fountain, and if you two are not quiet you will attract his attention and our Grand Plan will never come off as it should!"
"Perhaps we should enlist the young one's aid," Ecthelion said, tilting his dark head to one side in contemplation. "He has more creative energy than any of us."
"Too much," Glorfindel said with a sigh, running one hand through his lovely golden locks. He had not thought himself given to vanity overmuch until the young scamp of Tuor and Idril's had changed his hair to a lovely shade of green which rivaled the bright leaves of the trees themselves. "I will never again accept a gift of sweet smelling shampoo from that one!"
Eglamoth did laugh then, though he too had fallen victim to Earendil's many pranks and games. They all had.
"To think we used to all vie for the opportunity to watch him when his parents needed some time alone," Ecthelion said with a grin.
"That was when he was an innocent babe and couldn't move around much, except by rolling across the floor from his stomach to his back. Do you remember?" Eglamoth said with a wistful grin.
"Then he learned to crawl," Glorfindel commented dryly.
"Then to walk and run," Ecthelion groaned, shaking his head.
"Things haven't been the same since," Eglamoth finished for them, his eyes twinkling brightly. He eased his little lute from his back and strummed it gently. He admired its dark polished wood inlaid with opals and set with fair crystals shaped like stars. "Shall I sing you a song of Earendil the Terrible?" he asked, with a quirk of his brows.
"Who called him that?" Ecthelion asked with a frown.
"Hmph! I will give you one guess."
"I don't need even the one. Salgant," Glorfindel snorted and rolled his blue eyes expressively. "I don't understand why he was that upset with the child."
"Can't you?" Ecthelion asked lightly with a grin. "After the incident with that grass skimmer of Earendil's . . . ."
Glorfindel and Eglamoth exchanged amused glances as they recalled the day in question, and Salgant, lord of the house of the Harp lying flat on his back with a rather stunned expression on his face, his eyes slightly dazed after being run down by "Earendil the Terrible" and his 'flying grass skimmer'.
"Why ever did you put wheels on it, Ecthelion?" Eglamoth asked with a laugh. "What madness possessed you? You have handed him a weapon that none of us can counter!"
Ecthelion laughed heartily as he though of the rather plain piece of wood that now "skimmed" over the ground atop the wheels that he himself had affixed. Hendor though had painted bright designs on it, such as he thought would please Idril's young son.
"He wanted to fly, Eglamoth! I couldn't refuse him. I had to do something! So putting some wheels on a piece of shaped wood seemed harmless enough. Though the Valar know that he has fallen off it plenty of times."
"And you endanger the rest of us!" Eglamoth protested though his eyes sparkled with amusement. It was rather delightful to watch young Earendil 'flying' through the streets of Gondolin on his 'skimmer'. That is unless one was in his way, then it was not so delightful to behold.
Glorfindel smiled as he gazed up at Turgon's palace, the doors flanked by Glingol and Bansil, the two trees that were reminders of the Great Trees of Valinor. Turgon's tall tower rose behind the palace, the rays of the early sun playing along its graceful height, bathing the fair white stone with a soft golden hue. The birds had risen with the sun and the air filled with their song. Yet another glorious day had begun in the Hidden City of King Turgon. The fountain played its own merry melody and the lord of the Golden Flower's smile widened as he turned to his companions.
"I think our good king must tire of being awakened by this bird warbling and the fountain singing its bubbly song. What say you, my friends, that we rouse our king to wakefulness with a song the likes of which he has never heard!"
Ecthelion laughed heartily then and clapped Eglamoth on the back.
"It is time for our Dawn Serenade to begin," he said with a bow to his fellows, his face drawn in sudden serious lines.
"Aye, music fit for a king," Glorfindel said, returning the bow gracefully.
"He'll get an earful indeed!" Ecthelion laughed then trilled some rather discordant notes on his flute.
The three musicians then seated themselves before the palace and prepared to play.
Now all the elves of Gondolin had heard many concerts given by these three, and they were truly gifted on their chosen instruments, but this morning the idea of the music was not to delight and amaze or send slender elvish feet into dance. This day they were determined to awaken their king with the Worst Song Ever Composed. It had been much harder than they had anticipated, composing a song to sound deliberately bad and out of tune, but they had finally resorted to writing it down as one or the other of them would always try to harmonize nicely with the others, which defeated the purpose of this piece entirely. But at last, it was ready to be preformed for their chosen audience.
"I am apologizing to you now," Ecthelion murmured to the birds and the surrounding trees and plants. "Hopefully you won't have to endure this horrendous sound for long. We will play very loudly and hopefully the king will be down here yelling at us quite soon." With a nod to his companions, they began to play.
The birds that inhabited the branches of the two wondrous trees took flight almost immediately, squawking with distress as they headed for other trees to hid in. The trees and plants, which could not flee, moaned helplessly as Glorfindel and Eglamoth began to sing in very loud, very out of tune voices in accompaniment to their playing.
Fortunately, the king did appear in an upper window, his face filled with wrath as he gazed down at Ecthelion, Eglamoth, and Glorfindel. They smiled a greeting to him, and tipped their heads in acknowledgement but continued to sing and play most inharmoniously. One silken slipper splashed into the fountain behind them, then another, and Turgon scowled fiercely, turned from the window, and then disappeared.
"Here he comes," Eglamoth sang with a laugh as Ecthelion nearly choked with laughter, his flute screeching as he spluttered.
The palace doors opened, but it wasn't Turgon that emerged. It was 'Earendil the Terrible'. His face was filled with mischief and mirth as he leapt from the steps small white puffs rising with every footfall. He ran to the musicians, nearly toppling Eglamoth into the fountain as the child leapt to stand beside them, leaning against Ecthelion's broad shoulder. Their music ceased to the immediate elation of the vegetation, and they exchanged glances, wondering what this imp had done so early in the morning to cause such glee to cavort in his eyes.
"Been busy already?" Eglamoth asked him, and the child lifted one stocking foot for his inspection.
"What is that?" Glorfindel asked, noting the white dust that covered the little sock.
Earendil didn't have a chance to answer as they heard a crash and a rather undignified stream of words from Turgon, who appeared a moment later, his face red as he slipped and slid to the doorway. Gondolin's king studied the four by the fountain, his nostrils flared with anger as he supported himself by grasping the doorframe.
"Good morning, Beloved King," Ecthelion said standing and bowing gracefully, his long dark hair slipping over one shoulder. "Did you enjoy our serenade?"
Earendil giggled as he leapt from the fountain and ran to embrace his grandfather, flinging his arms about the elf king's knees as Eglamoth and Glorfindel stood, bowing to their king.
"Did you enjoy the skate across my icy pond?" the child piped happily, knowing that this grandfather must have enjoyed it nearly as much as he did, as the king's posterior region was rather white with the 'ice' that Earendil had applied liberally to the polished floor that morning.
Turgon stared at the three elf-lords, seeing the amusement that lit their eyes. He drew several deep breaths before smiling down at them, his eyes filled with a fell amusement of his own. The three elf-lords exchanged uneasy glances as his grey eyes took them in, and then slid to his grandson.
"Actually I am rather glad to see you," he began, addressing Ectheli0n, Eglamoth, and Glorfindel. "Earendil is spending the day with me as dear Meleth his nurse is assisting Idril this day, and as I have some rather urgent business to take care of, I was wondering who I could get to watch him for a time. How wonderful that the three of you showed up this morning so full of fun and life! You are just what I need. Would you like that, Earendil?" he asked, knowing well what the answer would be. "Maybe they would like to skate on your 'icy pond'."
When a wide, mischief-filled grin spread over the child's face, Ecthelion turned stricken eyes to his companions.
"I knew this was a bad idea," he murmured, fingering his flute.
"It was YOUR idea in the first place!" Eglamoth and Glorfindel hissed at him at the same time.
"Come, come," Turgon called, patting his grandson on the head. "I am sure Earendil will find many things to keep you all occupied. Your day will be quite . . . fun." He motioned for them to enter the palace. "Be sure to take off you shoes, else the effect of Earendil's 'ice' will have been for nothing, and we can't have that now, can we?"
"After you," Eglamoth said sourly, bowing to Ecthelion in annoyance. It was too early for things to have gone so wrong.
Glorfindel skewered Ecthelion with his gaze as well, gesturing with one slim hand toward the open palace doors. "Yes," he murmured when Ecthelion hesitated, "after you."
"Take off your shoes, Ecthelion!" Earendil cried, jumping up and down with excitement. "Hurry! Hurry!"
"They are hurrying, Earendil," Turgon assured him. "Don't worry, my dear lords," he continued when Ecthelion held out his flute imploringly. "Leave your instruments here. I will have someone take them to your homes unharmed. You will not be needing them any longer this day."
Ecthelion gazed apologetically at his two friends as they did as they were bidden. Then they bent to remove their shoes when Turgon gestured pointedly at their feet.
Earendil crowed happily, grabbing Ecthelion's hand before he could even straighten and pulled him into the palace.
Glorfindel and Eglamoth exchanged horrified glances as the lord of the Fountain almost immediately lost his footing on the slippery, powder- covered floor and fell with a "Woof!" of surprise.
"I didn't know there was that much powder in all of Arda," Eglamoth commented as he stared in dismay at Ecthelion, who stood slowly, only to fall once more in a cloud of white powder which dusted his dark locks, making them appear grey.
Glorfindel sneezed as he entered the room. Powder flew everywhere as Earendil 'skated' expertly about his 'pond' and jumped up and down in delight as he had three fine companions for the day.
"This is going to be a rather long day," the lord of the Golden Flower murmured to Eglamoth just before Turgon gave them each a shove from behind, sending them slipping and sliding across the floor before they finally fell into an undignified heap of long limbs and powdery hair.
"I certainly hope that it is," the king said, raising one brow. "Very long indeed."
None of them saw the bright gleam in Earendil's eyes as he murmured, "It will be. It will be."
TBC
*sigh*
Yes, it has been AGES since I wrote the first part of this tale, and this part has been sitting neglected in my computer since.July. Ahem! That long, hm? Yes, months ago it was finished.or nearly so. I am sorry there are no responses from me this time, but I believe I have been rude enough as it is in making you wait so long for it. ( My most sincere apologies to you all. I will try to do better in the future.
"Of course you will," an insidious voice whispers, followed by a low chuckle.
"Are we in this chapter?" another voice asks.
"No."
"Will we be in any other chapters?"
"I don't know. She has been neglecting us lately."
"Ask her, Legolas."
"Not me!! She has been rather . . .busy lately and RL is making her slightly," he leans toward his two companions and whispers, "insane."
"What is RL?"
"Real Life, Brethil. Honestly, don't you know anything!"
"Yes, Tavor, I do know some things, but some of these abbreviations are confusing. Why do they use them all the time?"
"Because it is faster than writing things out."
"Oh? You mean . . . The Laziness Factor. I see."
"Yes, Tree excels at that," the first voice purrs.
"Shut up, Tanglinna!"
"Yes, Tree. You had better start working on the next chapter though . . .of something. Do you realize how many chapters you have to write? There is Jade King, Through the Eyes of a Child, Bells of Silver, Knife's Edge, Elrond's Most Forgettable -"
"That one needs an abbreviation," Brethil giggles.
"Yes, it does," Tanglinna agrees with a smile. "Very well: EMFB. How is that? And also The Tale of the Silver Peacock and the Skulking Cutpurse."
"Her titles are getting longer as she gets older," Tavor comments dryly.
Author growls slightly and glares at the elves.
"Just shut up! I know! I know! Now go away!" Tree mutters watching them walk down the stairs toward the door, Brethil looking worried, Tavor ignoring her completely, Legolas trying not to grin, and Tanglinna smirking and whispering a bit too loudly, "She will regret that she told us to go away." Slowly it dawns on the author. "No! Wait! Don't go away! Wait! Come back! Blast!!! Now I will never get anything written!"
*sigh*
;D
Gondolin the Song of Stone, the great Hidden City of King Turgon, gleamed like polished pearl in the morning light just as the sun crested Echoriath's circling heights, the sky paling from night's velvet-dark hue to dawn's golden glowing. The colorful lamps that hung in the trees were extinguished; cobwebs sparkled like strings of tiny diamonds amidst the gleaming leaves as the sun caressed them with its first touch. The euphonious sounds of the birds awakening filled the crystalline air, blending with the play of the fountains; the sparkling fall of water glistering as it leapt upward toward the sky then fell into the awaiting basins of carved pale stone. A few people were moving about the paved streets preparing for the market, placing cut flowers, bolts of cloth, exquisitely crafted jewelry, fruits and vegetables out for display. Soon the sound of children's voices would ring about the streets, voices filled with laughter and life.
Flowers bloomed in profusion, nestled in the tree-lined walkways and tumbling from window boxes and baskets. The Tarnin Austa - the Gates of Summer - had been celebrated not many nights hence and the feeling of wonder and rejoicing still lingered in the hearts of the Gondolindrim. Banners fluttered in the light breeze atop the slender carved towers of the city, their colors sharpening as the sky changed from its pale gold to light blue.
Three tall elves were walking through the streets, their merry laughter lifting about them as they headed for the King's Square and the palace. One had raven-dark locks; one flowing hair of polished silver; and the third had hair as shining bright as the sun. The three were great friends, lords of their Houses and at times, though they were strong warriors and wise counselors, were as lighthearted and mischievous as children. This very morning they had decided to gift their beloved king with an early serenade, for they were fine musicians also. Ecthelion, the leader of this joyous group, was laughing heartily as he lifted his silver flute to his lips and played a running trill of notes in anticipation of their dawn concert.
"Quiet!" Glorfindel chuckled. "We don't want to awaken him just yet!"
"Very true," Eglamoth agreed, though his lips twitched in amusement. "We have planned this perfectly since the day he sent courtiers to rouse us from bed before the sun rose for an urgent meeting, only to find out that he wanted us to assist him in choosing his robe for the day. He seemed overly pleased to see the three of us standing there, trying our best not to yawn in his presence. He deserves this, and I don't want it spoiled because you cannot contain your excitement for just a few moments more."
Ecthelion laughed and lowered his little flute, twirling it deftly between his fingers, the sun playing on its shining silver surface.
"Don't worry. I won't spoil our fun, but I am very excited about this!" He grinned at his companions, lifting his flute once more, grey eyes sparkling like fallen stars.
"You are as irredeemably mischievous as Earendil is, Ecthelion," Glorfindel laughed, hefting his small harp, and plucking a few quiet notes in accompaniment to Ecthelion's piping.
"Truly, you both are!" Eglamoth protested, laying one hand over Glorfindel's strings to still the music. "Earendil is probably already up and about, sailing his fleet of little boats in his grandfather's great fountain, and if you two are not quiet you will attract his attention and our Grand Plan will never come off as it should!"
"Perhaps we should enlist the young one's aid," Ecthelion said, tilting his dark head to one side in contemplation. "He has more creative energy than any of us."
"Too much," Glorfindel said with a sigh, running one hand through his lovely golden locks. He had not thought himself given to vanity overmuch until the young scamp of Tuor and Idril's had changed his hair to a lovely shade of green which rivaled the bright leaves of the trees themselves. "I will never again accept a gift of sweet smelling shampoo from that one!"
Eglamoth did laugh then, though he too had fallen victim to Earendil's many pranks and games. They all had.
"To think we used to all vie for the opportunity to watch him when his parents needed some time alone," Ecthelion said with a grin.
"That was when he was an innocent babe and couldn't move around much, except by rolling across the floor from his stomach to his back. Do you remember?" Eglamoth said with a wistful grin.
"Then he learned to crawl," Glorfindel commented dryly.
"Then to walk and run," Ecthelion groaned, shaking his head.
"Things haven't been the same since," Eglamoth finished for them, his eyes twinkling brightly. He eased his little lute from his back and strummed it gently. He admired its dark polished wood inlaid with opals and set with fair crystals shaped like stars. "Shall I sing you a song of Earendil the Terrible?" he asked, with a quirk of his brows.
"Who called him that?" Ecthelion asked with a frown.
"Hmph! I will give you one guess."
"I don't need even the one. Salgant," Glorfindel snorted and rolled his blue eyes expressively. "I don't understand why he was that upset with the child."
"Can't you?" Ecthelion asked lightly with a grin. "After the incident with that grass skimmer of Earendil's . . . ."
Glorfindel and Eglamoth exchanged amused glances as they recalled the day in question, and Salgant, lord of the house of the Harp lying flat on his back with a rather stunned expression on his face, his eyes slightly dazed after being run down by "Earendil the Terrible" and his 'flying grass skimmer'.
"Why ever did you put wheels on it, Ecthelion?" Eglamoth asked with a laugh. "What madness possessed you? You have handed him a weapon that none of us can counter!"
Ecthelion laughed heartily as he though of the rather plain piece of wood that now "skimmed" over the ground atop the wheels that he himself had affixed. Hendor though had painted bright designs on it, such as he thought would please Idril's young son.
"He wanted to fly, Eglamoth! I couldn't refuse him. I had to do something! So putting some wheels on a piece of shaped wood seemed harmless enough. Though the Valar know that he has fallen off it plenty of times."
"And you endanger the rest of us!" Eglamoth protested though his eyes sparkled with amusement. It was rather delightful to watch young Earendil 'flying' through the streets of Gondolin on his 'skimmer'. That is unless one was in his way, then it was not so delightful to behold.
Glorfindel smiled as he gazed up at Turgon's palace, the doors flanked by Glingol and Bansil, the two trees that were reminders of the Great Trees of Valinor. Turgon's tall tower rose behind the palace, the rays of the early sun playing along its graceful height, bathing the fair white stone with a soft golden hue. The birds had risen with the sun and the air filled with their song. Yet another glorious day had begun in the Hidden City of King Turgon. The fountain played its own merry melody and the lord of the Golden Flower's smile widened as he turned to his companions.
"I think our good king must tire of being awakened by this bird warbling and the fountain singing its bubbly song. What say you, my friends, that we rouse our king to wakefulness with a song the likes of which he has never heard!"
Ecthelion laughed heartily then and clapped Eglamoth on the back.
"It is time for our Dawn Serenade to begin," he said with a bow to his fellows, his face drawn in sudden serious lines.
"Aye, music fit for a king," Glorfindel said, returning the bow gracefully.
"He'll get an earful indeed!" Ecthelion laughed then trilled some rather discordant notes on his flute.
The three musicians then seated themselves before the palace and prepared to play.
Now all the elves of Gondolin had heard many concerts given by these three, and they were truly gifted on their chosen instruments, but this morning the idea of the music was not to delight and amaze or send slender elvish feet into dance. This day they were determined to awaken their king with the Worst Song Ever Composed. It had been much harder than they had anticipated, composing a song to sound deliberately bad and out of tune, but they had finally resorted to writing it down as one or the other of them would always try to harmonize nicely with the others, which defeated the purpose of this piece entirely. But at last, it was ready to be preformed for their chosen audience.
"I am apologizing to you now," Ecthelion murmured to the birds and the surrounding trees and plants. "Hopefully you won't have to endure this horrendous sound for long. We will play very loudly and hopefully the king will be down here yelling at us quite soon." With a nod to his companions, they began to play.
The birds that inhabited the branches of the two wondrous trees took flight almost immediately, squawking with distress as they headed for other trees to hid in. The trees and plants, which could not flee, moaned helplessly as Glorfindel and Eglamoth began to sing in very loud, very out of tune voices in accompaniment to their playing.
Fortunately, the king did appear in an upper window, his face filled with wrath as he gazed down at Ecthelion, Eglamoth, and Glorfindel. They smiled a greeting to him, and tipped their heads in acknowledgement but continued to sing and play most inharmoniously. One silken slipper splashed into the fountain behind them, then another, and Turgon scowled fiercely, turned from the window, and then disappeared.
"Here he comes," Eglamoth sang with a laugh as Ecthelion nearly choked with laughter, his flute screeching as he spluttered.
The palace doors opened, but it wasn't Turgon that emerged. It was 'Earendil the Terrible'. His face was filled with mischief and mirth as he leapt from the steps small white puffs rising with every footfall. He ran to the musicians, nearly toppling Eglamoth into the fountain as the child leapt to stand beside them, leaning against Ecthelion's broad shoulder. Their music ceased to the immediate elation of the vegetation, and they exchanged glances, wondering what this imp had done so early in the morning to cause such glee to cavort in his eyes.
"Been busy already?" Eglamoth asked him, and the child lifted one stocking foot for his inspection.
"What is that?" Glorfindel asked, noting the white dust that covered the little sock.
Earendil didn't have a chance to answer as they heard a crash and a rather undignified stream of words from Turgon, who appeared a moment later, his face red as he slipped and slid to the doorway. Gondolin's king studied the four by the fountain, his nostrils flared with anger as he supported himself by grasping the doorframe.
"Good morning, Beloved King," Ecthelion said standing and bowing gracefully, his long dark hair slipping over one shoulder. "Did you enjoy our serenade?"
Earendil giggled as he leapt from the fountain and ran to embrace his grandfather, flinging his arms about the elf king's knees as Eglamoth and Glorfindel stood, bowing to their king.
"Did you enjoy the skate across my icy pond?" the child piped happily, knowing that this grandfather must have enjoyed it nearly as much as he did, as the king's posterior region was rather white with the 'ice' that Earendil had applied liberally to the polished floor that morning.
Turgon stared at the three elf-lords, seeing the amusement that lit their eyes. He drew several deep breaths before smiling down at them, his eyes filled with a fell amusement of his own. The three elf-lords exchanged uneasy glances as his grey eyes took them in, and then slid to his grandson.
"Actually I am rather glad to see you," he began, addressing Ectheli0n, Eglamoth, and Glorfindel. "Earendil is spending the day with me as dear Meleth his nurse is assisting Idril this day, and as I have some rather urgent business to take care of, I was wondering who I could get to watch him for a time. How wonderful that the three of you showed up this morning so full of fun and life! You are just what I need. Would you like that, Earendil?" he asked, knowing well what the answer would be. "Maybe they would like to skate on your 'icy pond'."
When a wide, mischief-filled grin spread over the child's face, Ecthelion turned stricken eyes to his companions.
"I knew this was a bad idea," he murmured, fingering his flute.
"It was YOUR idea in the first place!" Eglamoth and Glorfindel hissed at him at the same time.
"Come, come," Turgon called, patting his grandson on the head. "I am sure Earendil will find many things to keep you all occupied. Your day will be quite . . . fun." He motioned for them to enter the palace. "Be sure to take off you shoes, else the effect of Earendil's 'ice' will have been for nothing, and we can't have that now, can we?"
"After you," Eglamoth said sourly, bowing to Ecthelion in annoyance. It was too early for things to have gone so wrong.
Glorfindel skewered Ecthelion with his gaze as well, gesturing with one slim hand toward the open palace doors. "Yes," he murmured when Ecthelion hesitated, "after you."
"Take off your shoes, Ecthelion!" Earendil cried, jumping up and down with excitement. "Hurry! Hurry!"
"They are hurrying, Earendil," Turgon assured him. "Don't worry, my dear lords," he continued when Ecthelion held out his flute imploringly. "Leave your instruments here. I will have someone take them to your homes unharmed. You will not be needing them any longer this day."
Ecthelion gazed apologetically at his two friends as they did as they were bidden. Then they bent to remove their shoes when Turgon gestured pointedly at their feet.
Earendil crowed happily, grabbing Ecthelion's hand before he could even straighten and pulled him into the palace.
Glorfindel and Eglamoth exchanged horrified glances as the lord of the Fountain almost immediately lost his footing on the slippery, powder- covered floor and fell with a "Woof!" of surprise.
"I didn't know there was that much powder in all of Arda," Eglamoth commented as he stared in dismay at Ecthelion, who stood slowly, only to fall once more in a cloud of white powder which dusted his dark locks, making them appear grey.
Glorfindel sneezed as he entered the room. Powder flew everywhere as Earendil 'skated' expertly about his 'pond' and jumped up and down in delight as he had three fine companions for the day.
"This is going to be a rather long day," the lord of the Golden Flower murmured to Eglamoth just before Turgon gave them each a shove from behind, sending them slipping and sliding across the floor before they finally fell into an undignified heap of long limbs and powdery hair.
"I certainly hope that it is," the king said, raising one brow. "Very long indeed."
None of them saw the bright gleam in Earendil's eyes as he murmured, "It will be. It will be."
TBC
*sigh*
Yes, it has been AGES since I wrote the first part of this tale, and this part has been sitting neglected in my computer since.July. Ahem! That long, hm? Yes, months ago it was finished.or nearly so. I am sorry there are no responses from me this time, but I believe I have been rude enough as it is in making you wait so long for it. ( My most sincere apologies to you all. I will try to do better in the future.
"Of course you will," an insidious voice whispers, followed by a low chuckle.
"Are we in this chapter?" another voice asks.
"No."
"Will we be in any other chapters?"
"I don't know. She has been neglecting us lately."
"Ask her, Legolas."
"Not me!! She has been rather . . .busy lately and RL is making her slightly," he leans toward his two companions and whispers, "insane."
"What is RL?"
"Real Life, Brethil. Honestly, don't you know anything!"
"Yes, Tavor, I do know some things, but some of these abbreviations are confusing. Why do they use them all the time?"
"Because it is faster than writing things out."
"Oh? You mean . . . The Laziness Factor. I see."
"Yes, Tree excels at that," the first voice purrs.
"Shut up, Tanglinna!"
"Yes, Tree. You had better start working on the next chapter though . . .of something. Do you realize how many chapters you have to write? There is Jade King, Through the Eyes of a Child, Bells of Silver, Knife's Edge, Elrond's Most Forgettable -"
"That one needs an abbreviation," Brethil giggles.
"Yes, it does," Tanglinna agrees with a smile. "Very well: EMFB. How is that? And also The Tale of the Silver Peacock and the Skulking Cutpurse."
"Her titles are getting longer as she gets older," Tavor comments dryly.
Author growls slightly and glares at the elves.
"Just shut up! I know! I know! Now go away!" Tree mutters watching them walk down the stairs toward the door, Brethil looking worried, Tavor ignoring her completely, Legolas trying not to grin, and Tanglinna smirking and whispering a bit too loudly, "She will regret that she told us to go away." Slowly it dawns on the author. "No! Wait! Don't go away! Wait! Come back! Blast!!! Now I will never get anything written!"
*sigh*
;D