Chapter Three: In Tirion Upon Túna

The market square of Tirion upon Túna was filled with people, and the area had a lively quality about it that was not present in the halls and courts he was often in.

Being Ereinion Gil-galad, son of Fingon and the last High King of the Noldor in Arda, had its own disadvantages. He would have preferred to be out riding in the woods, amongst the Maiar and Eldar who went in the train of Oromë, the Huntsman of the Valar; but as the son of one who had once been High-King of the Noldor (and as one who had once been High King himself), he had to remain in the city and not go "gallivanting in the forests," as his father had once remarked.

He frowned when he thought of that. He thought that when he was rehoused [1] and returned to the people of Aman, he would be free – free from the duties and responsibilities of ruling and leadership. After all, it was Finarfin's house that now held the High Kingship in Aman. What role did the House of Fingolfin have to play?

"Still morose, My Lord?"

Ereinion looked up, and turned around. He smiled slightly as Elrond, son of Eärendil and Elwing, appeared in the doorway.

The once Master of Imladris smiled at him sympathetically as he stepped into the room, hands behind his back as he walked towards the window Ereinion was standing at. "You should not look so miserable, Ereinion. Not with such fine weather outside."

Ereinion rolled his eyes. It was very much like his former Vice-Regent and foster son to tease him like this. "What use is such weather to me if I cannot go out and enjoy it?"

Elrond chuckled. "I suspected you would say that." He tossed a pair of leather riding gloves at Ereinion.

Ereinion caught the items, and looked at the gloves with a raised eyebrow. "What do you intend me to do with these?"

"Let us just say that I have come to abduct you." Elrond adjusted the fit of his own riding gloves, which Ereinion had not seen until that moment. "I have arranged for a meeting with Glorfindel and Ecthelion. We are to join them on a short excursion to Orom's Woods, and join the Vala's hunt this afternoon."

Now Ereinion had to smile. Once more, Elrond had anticipated his needs. He gave his friend a teasing look. "And why do you seek our company, when you have that of your wife? I am sure she is a more pleasant companion than three rehoused Elf-lords."

He laughed when he noticed Elrond flush visibly. He put on the gloves, and grinned at Elrond. "Shall we?"

"Please refresh my memory as to why we are here."

Ecthelion rolled his eyes. "Elrond asked us to come here. We are to spend the afternoon hunting in the train of Oromë."

Glorfindel glared at him. "I know that," he muttered, shifting irritably in his saddle. "I wished to know why we are here, in front of the Halls of Fingolfin, when we should be riding out of the gates by now. And why we are joining Orom's hunt to begin with?"

Ecthelion looked at his friend. "We are here to accompany Elrond and Lord Ereinion. Were you not paying attention when Elrond spoke to us?"

Glorfindel did not respond. When Ecthelion turned to look, he noticed that the golden-haired Elda's eyes were following a small group of female Elves as they rode by on palfreys, heading towards another part of Tirion.

He resisted the urge to use his riding crop on the flank of Glorfindel's mount, and cause his friend to be thrown out of his saddle. He found it extremely irritating that all it took to distract Glorfindel was to have a female Elf walk by him.

Sometimes, he found it hard to imagine that this was the selfsame Elf who had slain a Balrog during the First Age of Arda, that he was once known as the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower [2]. He found it hard to imagine that this was the same Glorfindel who had fought at the Battle of Fornost, and was the seneschal of Lord Elrond Peredhil in Imladris.

But that was Glorfindel, and no amount of time spent in Mandos' Halls would ever rid him of his skirt-chasing tendencies. And while Ecthelion was oftentimes ashamed for his friend, he did have to admit, it was these very same tendencies that made Glorfindel amusing to watch.

Two more riders approached them, emerging from the direction of the stables of the Halls of Fingolfin. One was clad in hunting clothes of gray and green – simple and clean. The other had on richer garments: also hunting garb, but shot through with silver thread along the edges of the collar, and embroidered with small silver stars on the sleeves.

Ecthelion smiled pleasantly. "Good day, My Lord Ereinion."

Ereinion – the Elf with stars embroidered in his clothes – gave him a smile in return. "And a good day to you as well, Lord Ecthelion." He turned to Glorfindel, raised an eyebrow, and said, "I would greet Lord Glorfindel as well, but he seems rather preoccupied."

Ecthelion glanced at Glorfindel, and realized that the golden-haired Elf-lord was staring at a large group of maidens who had just walked by him. Why was he not surprised? "Glorfindel, if you are quite finished staring at the maidens, I think you would like to greet Lord Ereinion."

Glorfindel jerked visibly, and he turned around to look at the arrivals. He smiled at Ereinion. "Ah, My Lord Ereinion! The day finds you well, I hope?"

Ereinion shrugged. "Well, the chance to get away from my grandsire's halls on a day like this was something I simply could not pass up." He grinned at Elrond. "And I am grateful for what you are doing for me."

Elrond chuckled. "Better than having you in a foul mood for the next few days."

Ecthelion chortled in agreement. Ereinion had been prone to snap at people who spoke to him if he had not been allowed to so much as leave Fingolfin's Halls due to his duties. In his opinion, the rest of Fingolfin's household should thank him, Elrond, and Glorfindel. It was usually the three of them who devised and organized ways of entertaining and distracting Ereinion from the stress of his duties.

Unless, of course, Elrond was preoccupied with his wife and sons, or Glorfindel had gone off again in pursuit of his favorite prey: the beauties of Tirion and Alqualondë.

In the meantime, however, his three other companions had engaged themselves in a hearty discussion concerning Ereinion's habit of snapping at people. Naturally, Ereinion was denying everything, while Elrond and Glorfindel were confirming it.

"I do not snap at people when I am in a foul mood," Ereinion insisted.

Glorfindel shook his head. "My Lord, I doubt if you are aware of just how foul your mood can be. I remember a day but a few weeks ago, when I entered the library of your grandsire's halls in the hope of finding a particular document, and was nearly struck on the head by a book that you had thrown."

"I did not know you had entered," Ereinion explained defensively. "Had I know that you were coming I would not have thrown that book at you."

"But I remember the same thing happening to me a few months ago," Elrond commented lightly, "and as I recall, on both instances you had just returned from a meeting with your grandsire and father – and in those meetings, they had insisted that you remain in the halls for the rest of the year well into next Midsummer."

Ereinion flushed, and Ecthelion laughed with Elrond and Glorfindel. It was going to be a very amusing afternoon.

"So you have seen the danger that your daughter is in?"

Pallando nodded. "I have, and that is why I wish to bring her back. But she is also a danger for Arda, while she is there."

Alatar stared at his dear friend, automatically nudging his mount forward to follow the other huntsmen in the train of Oromë. "Why do you say so?"

"I had known of the possibilities during the five years I spent with my family before we departed," Pallando replied. "There is war going on in the South now, Alatar. The mortal magic-users are becoming too greedy for their own good, and wish to acquire powers that they should not touch."

Alatar listened in silence. He had hoped that such a thing would not happen, but it was. He had seen it brewing, this greed for power. He had seen it brewing in the East, and he knew that it was bound to come to the people in the South. There was nothing that could stop humans from acquiring what they wished – even if it meant dragging the entire world back into the chaos and turmoil of war.

"As you know, Manwë has banned all Maiar from leaving Aman and going to Arda, so I will not be able to fetch my daughter myself. However, he and My Lord Ulmo have given me leave to select a small group of Quendi who will take a ship, venture into Arda, find my daughter, and return here with her."

Alatar gazed at his dear friend in stunned surprise. Send the Quendi to the South and the East? That was almost like committing them to a death sentence! "But the Quendi have no knowledge of the South and the East! They do not know of the customs and ways of the people, they are unfamiliar with the languages spoken there-"

"But I have no other choice," Pallando said wearily. "If I wish to see my daughter safe, and ensure that her strengths are not used for evil ends, then I must have the Quendi seek for her."

Alatar fell silent. This was a very dangerous task, but if it was not accomplished… He shook his head. No, there was danger both if nothing was done and if something was done. In such a case, it was always preferable to try and solve the problem than to wait and allow it to develop into something worse.

"Whom, then, shall you send?" he asked. This was a very crucial question – Alatar knew that, and he was sure that Pallando did too. Many of the Quendi had become weary of Arda, and he was quite certain than none of them would wish to return. Those who would be sent had to be great warriors, because of the war that was brewing there. They would also have to be quick learners, because if they did not learn of the customs and ways of the people, they could end up being sold as slaves, or worse, sentenced to die. Above all, they had to have an inherent need to survive.

If there was one thing that Alatar had come to admire about the people of the East, where he had traveled, it was that they were not so willing to give up as their Western and Northern brethren. This instinct for survival ran like a connecting thread through all the cultures of the South and the East. It was a quality that had to be present in the Quendi emissaries, lest they falter and fall.

Pallando looked at him. "Olórin suggested a few names when I spoke to him. I shall speak with these Elf-lords once I have managed to locate them."

Alatar nodded. "So that is why you have joined our convoy." Orom's group was passing through the forests that were close to the foot of the hill of Túna, at the crown of which stood the Eldarin city of Tirion.

"Yes," Pallando agreed, and then he smiled. "That is my primary destination, but I am glad I came here. It has been long, old friend, since last we spoke. How have you been thus far?"

Alatar chuckled, and proceeded to fill in his companion on the goings-on at Valmar and of the life as a huntsman of Oromë.

[1]= Tolkien put forth two possibilities for the Elves who had died and were residing in the Halls of Mandos. One of those possibilities was rebirth: the Elf's spirit would be cleansed of most of the memories from the previous life, and then would be reborn in a body that was not like the one they had in their previous life – something that would not be necessary, since the memories of the previous life would have been erased. Re-housing, on the other hand, is simply placing the Elf's spirit in a copy of the original body, with all the memories of the previous life intact. This seems to have been the case in The Silmarillion with Finrod, and quite possibly with Glorfindel (though the issue of whether Glorfindel of Gondolin and Glorfindel of Imladris were one and the same is still open to debate). Based on these two examples, I worked on that idea – which is why Ecthelion and Ereinion Gil-galad appear in this story as happy and as whole as ever.

[2]= While it is still debatable whether Glorfindel of Imladris, seneschal of Lord Elrond, is indeed the same as Glorfindel of Gondolin, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, I decided that I would make them one and the same. First of all, the idea of re-housing, as I discussed above, makes it very plausible for Glorfindel to have died after his fight with the Balrog, and then be re-housed in Aman before being sent back to Arda to be a guide and guardian of Elrond and his family. Second, the possibility of Glorfindel being re-housed is very plausible because of what happened to Finrod.