Keeping herself hidden Tinwen followed the hunters into a grand, beautiful elven city. After having wandered long in the streets she saw the young elf-lord who had led the company resting under a fruit-bearing tree in a fine garden. Tinwen took a new shape, resembling an elven maiden, clothing herself in a violet garment, and commanding her night-black hair to bend itself into a meticulous arrangement. Her skin was pale and her eyes blue, and on her feet she wore shoes decorated with mother-of-pearl. She began a song.
The elf-man woke and stared at her in amazement. At that moment his fate was engraved upon his heart.
'Who are you, fair lady?'
'My name is Tinwen Híniel Cal-Urúnya Maialaurë El-Carnil.'
'That is too long a name for my humble tongue. Can I call you Elai? I am Ereinion.'
'The moment I saw you, I loved you, Ereinion. You may call me whatever you like.'
'So did I love you the moment I saw you, Elai.'
They conversed all day and all night under that tree. Elai told Ereinion everything that had befallen her since the beginning of Arda. Ereinion told little of himself. Instead, he recalled the story of Thingol and Melian.
'Melian was a Maia,' he concluded, 'as are you, but Thingol was king in the land of the Moriquendi, although he himself was counted among the Calaquendi. I, on the other hand, have been born in this land of exile, and thus do not belong among the Calaquendi, although I rule the Noldor as their king.
'You are a king. I almost knew it.' Elai did not seem surprised.
'Ereinion Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor, at your service.' He knelt.
'Will you marry me, my fair Elai?'
'I have told you the reason I cannot.'
'Then I swear I will destroy Sauron when the time comes, at any cost.' He put his right hand on his heart and the left on his sword-hilt.
'Oh, Ereinion, I hope the time does not come too soon. I fear I shall lose you!'
'Either you lose me, or you get me.'
The time did not come soon. Lady Elai was presented to the court. She remained close to Gil-Galad wherever he went. They spent centuries together, waiting for a dawn of blessed future.
Instead there rose a dawn of hatred red as blood. Numenor fell, and the Faithful came to Middle-Earth, and Elendil came to Gil-Galad.
All too soon, Elai felt, it was time for the Last Alliance. Elai travelled with Ereinion to Imladris, where all gathered that opposed Sauron. There, in the last evening, many songs were sung in the halls of Elrond. And a song, seldom remembered, was then sung of the destruction of Angband, in which Eönwë was praised. Ereinion saw tears brimming in Elai's eyes, and led her out into silent balcony under the stars.
'You loved him.' It was a statement, not an accusation.
'Yes, but he loved me not. Now I cry for a love that is dead.
'I will love you till death and beyond! Our love shall not die! Do you trust me in this, my fair Elai?
'Oh, Ereinion!' Her kiss was burning, yet sweet.
'You should not go. I fear for your life.'
'This is my fate, beloved one. I am a warrior. And I have sworn an oath to you. For your sake I must face death, for your freedom I must battle Sauron.'
'But what shall I do with all the freedom in the world, if I cannot share it with you, my love?'
'Ah, Elai!' Ereinion fell to his knees and took her hand.
'I see I have to explain myself. In your captivation I also am captured. For I desire you! You and no other I want as my wife, as my queen. I go forth for your sake, but also for my own sake. I cannot wait forever!'
Ereinion pointed at the moon:
'Look, there goes Tilion the hunter, ever in pursuit of your sister Arien. Every time he reaches her she burns him with her fire. Poor Tilion! Would you have me share his fate?'
'Not if I could help it'. Elai took his hands and helped him to stand up.
'But as I am now, I am not a suitable queen. I would not be a suitable wife even for a beggar, for inside me there is the poison of Morgoth, round my neck is the chain of Sauron and my soul is bound by my own words.'
'Yet you live and stand beside me, and hope shines in your eyes. If I had you, would my fate be any harder than yours?'
'It would. The hope in me was kindled by the Silmarils; my life is older than heaven and earth. You would die of the poison that is in me.'
'And yet, yet I do desire you! If only I could have you tonight! What is death to one who has joined with eternal fire and emptied a cup brimmed with light!' Ereinion embraced his betrothed, drawing her to himself, so that Elai could feel his breath on her lips.
'The cup, I fear, is brimmed with darkness, and the fire breathes evil fumes. No, Sauron must die, and then we may be joined together! Go to Mordor, my love, as you must… but I shall not say you farewell, I shall ride beside you!'
'But…'
'In the light of Illuin under the stars I was the first to oppose Sauron! A red-hot knife in my hand I fought at the gates of Utumno and slew a balrog, my own brother! Fearless and alone I entered the caves under Angband, with my head held up I walked out when my imprisonment was over! Long I lived as a hunter and let no beast harm me. Eönwë himself ages ago in Aman taught me the use of weapons.'
In vain Gil-Galad tried to change Tinwen's mind and so the maiden was equipped for the battle as one of the knights. For her weapons she chose a bow and a light sword.
The army stopped to rest after crossing the mountains. The herald carefully set Gil-Galad's blue-and-silver star-spangled banner standing in the ground before he led his horse to drink. Then he sat down, watching his comrades and eating lembas. He was proud of his duty; it was an honour to serve as the herald for the High King. Now it seemed, however, that one of the young knights wished even higher an honour; he walked beside Gil-Galad while the King inspected his troops, and demanded in a loud voice for something unheard-of. The herald, Elrond, listened with great interest.
'For the last time, you may not ride beside me, Pengil! That position belongs to Elendil, and beside him rides Isildur, and beside Isildur, Anarion.'
'Elendil rides on your right-hand side?'
'Yes, of course.'
'Who rides on your left?'
'No-one.'
'I shall ride on your left, on the side of your heart and your shield-bearing arm.'
'I cannot allow that.'
'I cannot go before you, and after you I wish not to go.'
'This is war! Do you think you are in a parade?'
'No. I only want to protect you. Have me as your squire if nothing else!'
'Very well- if you can perform the duties of that position.'
'I am not afraid of work!'
'Polish this, then!' And the king took his shield and flung it carelessly into the arms of his new squire.
Pengil staggered under the weight but kept his balance.
Elrond walked to the young knight who sat absorbed in his task.
'Would you like some wine?'
'No, thank you. I already ate.'
'Are you a relative of his majesty's?' Nothing else could explain the way he had talked to the king.
'No.' The squire – Pengil, was that his name, starbow? – Only lifted his gaze now. His eyes were dark blue.
'You must wonder about my behaviour. But you see - I fear for him so! He wishes to do battle in the front lines. He is going to challenge Sauron!' Pengil continued polishing the shield when he talked, although the stars already shone mirror-bright.
'And he is angry with me. He would have wished me to stay in Imladris.'
'Why?'
'I suppose he was worried for me. It has been long since I last went to battle.'
'You appear young.'
'I am not. And he should not worry for me so.'
Pengil did ride to the field of Dagorlad beside his king, an archer among swords and spears. He aimed his arrows wherever he saw enemies who threatened the lives of the leaders. At one point he drew out a slim blade and slew an orc that had attempted to strike with its axe a man who had fallen from his horse. The man was Isildur son of Elendil, and he took the hand of his rescuer and promised a grand reward. For an answer Pengil only helped him behind himself on his horse – and then jumped off himself, for the starry banner was besieged by enemies. Shamelessly Pengil slew many enemies from behind with an orc-axe he had captured, forced his way trough the circle and stood beside Elrond until Isildur led several horsemen to their aid, and a dead man's horse for brave Pengil.
'What are you made of?' The king of men asked.
'Fire!' Shouted Pengil, climbed into the saddle and headed off in search of more enemies.
Many fell that day, but Pengil survived unscathed. In later battles he displayed similar courage, and the kings of both men and elves knighted him during the siege of Barad-Dûr.
The siege lasted seven years. In the third year Pengil was wounded. A faceless black-cloaked rider, a chieftain of the enemy, shot a poisoned arrow through his palm.
Gil-Galad carried Pengil into the tent of the healers on his arms, abandoning all else. The kings of men turned to watch, and the young herald handed over the banner to a comrade and ran after his lord.
'My lord king! Can I be of any help?'
But the king did not answer, and Elrond saw a strange sight:
Pengil lay on the stretcher as if lifeless – how could a wound on the hand be so serious – and his wounded hand, bandaged with a strip of cloth, Gil-Galad held in his own hands, kneeling beside the bed, and from his eyes tears fell upon the bloodstained bandages.
'My lord king? What is the matter with him?'
'Poison. It was an evil arrow. Pengil is fighting for life at the gates of darkness.'
'If there is nothing we can do, shall we weep like women? Majesty, the attack is proceeding. What would Pengil say if he saw you like that? I have seen him fight, he never gives up, I have seen him crawl on his knees to hack off an enemy's foot, I am sure he will beat that poison also. He says himself he is made of fire!' Elrond spoke daringly, for he could not bear to see the grand king so afraid.
'Made of fire,' Gil-Galad whispered.
'That is true! Elrond, I will tell you a secret. Pengil is not like us. He is an Ainu. Of the people of eternity. Elrond, bring here the brazier and pour oil into the flames.'
He obeyed.
Gil-Galad took the brazier. Then he carefully lifted Pengil's hand and pushed it into the fire. Elrond suppressed a scream of terror, and hardly believed his eyes: the gold plating on the king's armguard shone red-hot, his fingers were burnt in the short moment it took him to set Pengil's hand in the middle of the fire. But the bandages of the wounded hand flared and fell of as ashes, and the hand was white in the fire and shone, shone like the sun, and the black wound in the middle of the palm blazed and seemed to suck the fire from the brazier. Then the fire burned out and in the veins of Pengil's bare arm a strange glow seemed to flow.
His eyes opened and he smiled.
'Are you all right?'
'Ereinion. It was terrible – the arrow, I mean. Sauron's disgusting filth. Now it is gone, you have cleansed me.' He opened his fist and not a trace of the wound could be seen.
'Elrond helped me.'
'Thank you, Elrond of Imladris.' Again Pengil smiled, oddly gently, and suddenly Elrond knew her, knew that smile.
'But you – you are Elai!'
'I am Tinwen Híniel Cal-Urúnya Maialaurë El-Carnil Elai, sister to Arien, but I am also Pengil, knight in the army of the Last Alliance.'
'I understand. Your secret is safe with me.'
Pengil tied her armguard on again and grabbed her bow.
'Why are we dawdling here, Ereinion? The battle does not cease for us.'
And the king laughed in joy. And the war went on.
The name 'Elai' comes from proto-quenyan 'Ele!' = 'Behold!', which was thought to be the first word the Eldar spoke when waking at Cuiviénen, thus giving a name to the stars ('êl' and 'elen').