Chapter Thirty-Eight: Ondolindë

The next morning, while Glorfindel scouted around their camp, Lalwendë went to find water to wash away the blood. There was a small stream nearby, and she knelt by it and splashed its freezing water over herself.

Minutes later, Glorfindel arrived, breathing hard. He stared at her a second, then looked down. Lalwendë sat back on her haunches and raised an eyebrow.

'I can look after myself,' she said.

'I know.'

'I don't appreciate being followed about like a child.'

'Yes. I know.'

She smiled, unable to stifle it. 'I know you've made a habit out of saving my life, but I have managed to survive four hundred years without your help.'

His lips twitched upwards into a half-smile, his eyes trained on her. Then he sat down beside her in the sand of the creek bed. He took his boots off and put his feet into the water, gazing downwards thoughtfully. Lalwendë shook her head, her own smile widening, and went back to washing.

'What are we going to do?' she asked, undoing her braided hair.

'Choose a path,' Glorfindel said, almost absent-mindedly, 'and we'll take it.'

She paused to look up at him. 'You told me you were a lord in Gondolin.'

'Yes. Lord of the House of the Golden Flower.'

She hid an exasperated smile. 'So, you have responsibilities there. We can't just… choose a path and leave the world behind.'

'You have responsibilities as Princess of the Noldor in Hithlum,' he countered, looking up. 'And I won't be parted from you. If you… haven't changed your mind.'

Lalwendë pursed her lips, feeling her heart jump in her chest at his words. 'I haven't. Fingolfin can spare me.'

'He would miss you.'

'And Turgon would miss you, if you didn't return,' she replied pointedly.

Glorfindel shrugged. 'Choose a path, and I'll follow you,' he repeated.

Instead of replying, Lalwendë dunked her head in the stream, letting the ice-cold water tug at her long hair. She knew about Gondolin, the secret city – if she went there, she'd never be able to leave. She'd never see her family again. She'd never be allowed to wander Middle-earth, follow her feet, see where her father had awoken into the world.

But she knew in her heart that she was supposed to be with Glorfindel; simply being with him the past few hours had brought her a peace she hadn't known for hundreds of years. She knew Fingolfin would be happy for her. She knew this was meant to be.

She pulled her head out of the creek and squeezed the water from her hair. She turned to Glorfindel, who was watching her intently.

'Will you braid my hair?' she asked. He nodded and got up to kneel behind her. He started to comb through her hair with his long fingers. Lalwendë let her eyes drift closed, and let the quiet sound of the stream wash over her. She had to make a decision, but… it felt easy. As long as she was with him, it was the right choice. She marvelled at the twist of fate that had suddenly brought them back together, and silently, she sent thanks to the Valar, and to Melian for her advice.

He twisted her hair carefully, braiding it down her back. When he finished, she felt him lean forward to tentatively press his forehead to the back of her head. She smiled again.

'Let's go to Gondolin,' she said.

'Really?'

'Really.'

'The Valar have blessed me.'

Lalwendë's smile faded as she suddenly remembered the curse of Mandos. She wished she knew how to forget it, to feel only the joy of the perfect moment she was living, but for four hundred years she'd been empty. It was like she'd forgotten how to be happy, and now that she was, a darker part of her was reminding her that it wouldn't last.

They were all going to die in Middle-earth.

'Don't think about it,' Glorfindel murmured. 'Gondolin is safe. You'll see.'

She opened her eyes and smiled again, the darkness dispelled. He could read her thoughts from the back of the head, say exactly what he needed to say to make her feel better. She leapt to her feet and turned, offering Glorfindel her hand.

'Let's ride,' she said.


The ride took them weeks. Lalwendë sat in front of Glorfindel on the horse, and he behind her with his arms loosely wrapped around her waist. Often they would ride in silence. Other times Lalwendë would chatter happily about the things she'd seen in Middle-earth, or the things she missed from Aman, and Glorfindel would listen patiently.

It was like she'd found her old self again. Glorfindel had been the piece that was missing, and now that she was with him, she was whole again. It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She was ridiculously happy. She became the laughing girl once again.

Three weeks into their journey, on a cloudy afternoon, she twisted to look back at him.

'You could talk, you know, if you wanted.'

He blinked. 'You're better at talking than I am.'

'That will never work,' she declared, turning back to face their path.

'I like listening to you talk.'

'That may be so, but if we go on like that, there will come a day when you know everything there is to know about me, and I would only know a fraction of what there is to know about you.'

He shifted behind her, and his tone grew a little more closed off. 'You think you don't know me?'

She leaned back against him. His arms tightened fractionally around her waist. 'Don't twist my words. Don't get defensive.'

She felt him sigh. 'Sorry.'

She shook her head, dismissing the apology. She was was the one who had changed him with her rejection, the one who had made him this way – a little more closed off, more wary and taciturn, more likely to push people away than to let them in. Being without him had affected her over the centuries they'd been parted, but she'd never paused to consider how it had affected him. It made her heart ache.

Illuvatar the All-father had made elves immortal, but he'd built in a fatal weakness: once they fell in love, there was no turning back. Lalwendë had long ago accepted that she had changed forever.

'Laurë.'

'Hm?' his chest rumbled against her back.

'What's your favourite place in Middle-earth?'

He hesitated. 'There is a place I remember from when we awoke here. It is a cave filled with quartz crystals, and there is a hole in the cave roof so the starlight can shine through and fill it with silver.'

'It sounds beautiful.'

'If I could remember where it was, I would take you there.'

'What's your favourite flower?' He sighed again, and she twisted to glance up at him. 'Humour me?'

'I always liked pirindë, I suppose.'

'Me too!' she exclaimed, her hand instinctively coming up to clutch her locket. 'It is a shame they don't grow in Arda.'

'Have you seen the celandine flowers?'

'I don't know.'

'I think you would like them. I'll show them to you when we get to Gondolin.'

'What is your favourite colour?'

Another sigh. 'I don't have one.'

'Oh, come on…'

'Then… green.'

'Why?'

'Well, it's the colour of the banner of my house.'

'The House of the Golden Flower?' she laughed. 'That can't be your favourite colour.'

'Fine. Blue, then.'

'Why blue?'

'Because your eyes are blue.'

She blushed. 'That's another bad reason.'

'I've decided it's my favourite, so I'm afraid there isn't much you can do.'

Lalwendë grinned. 'Very well. How about… your favourite song?'

He huffed a laugh. 'I will not tell you that.'

'Oh, why not?'

'Because I know you'll make me sing.'

She laughed, throwing her head back. 'You're right, I was going to try. But I wasn't hopeful.'

'I would sooner fight a cave troll than sing in front of someone,' he said, and she could hear a smile in his voice. 'Ask me something else.'

'Alright,' she said, sobering. 'Did you… did you think of me, during all those years?'

There was a pause. 'Yes.'

She looked down. 'I want to say… I've had a long time to think it over, and I think I was wrong when I told you we shouldn't marry while we were at war. It was stupid.'

'No,' Glorfindel replied firmly. 'I've thought about it too. You were right, it isn't right. Most of the Noldor agree with you. You made the right decision.'

'But we were both miserable for it. I can't tell you how much I… how lonely I was.'

'We're here now, together,' he said quietly.

'We could have spent another four hundred years of our lives together, and we don't know how long we have before the doom of Mandos catches us –'

Without warning, Glorfindel swung himself off the horse. Lalwendë stared down at him, and he met her gaze evenly.

'We're stopping here for the night,' he announced.

She raised an eyebrow as she dismounted. 'Right.'

But no sooner was she on the ground than Glorfindel pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

It felt like her heart melted into her stomach as she stood on her toes to kiss him back, burying her hands in his long golden hair. He kissed her deeply and firmly, like he was trying to tell her something by it, his hands cradling her face.

He pulled away after a moment, and stared down at her. 'I'll love you with whatever time I have to love you,' he said quietly. 'I forgive you for your decision. I never blamed you for it. You should forget it now.'

Lalwendë felt a slow smile creep across her face. 'You love me?'

Glorfindel's lips twitched and he looked away. 'By the Valar, Lalwen. You're impossible.'

'I love you, Laurë,' she said earnestly, her smile impossibly wide.

'I like it when you smile,' he whispered, and he pulled her up to kiss him again.


Lalwendë was in a waking dream by the fire one night when she suddenly jerked awake. She drew in a deep breath, her eyes darting around. What had woken her? Then she frowned.

Where was Glorfindel? He'd taken the watch that night, and when she'd fallen into her trance, he'd been sitting with his back against a tree, an arm's length from her. Now he was gone. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest, and panic began to take her.

'Laurë,' she whispered into the night, drawing her sword. There was a long stretch of silence. 'Laurë!'

'Here,' came his reply, and seconds later, he appeared in the small clearing. He was splattered with a thick, black substance, and his sword was drawn and covered in the same liquid. 'It's alright.'

'Valar, what happened?' she asked, staring at him with wide eyes. He bent to wipe his sword on the grass.

'I heard a small party of orcs passing nearby,' he said. 'I went and… saw to it.'

Lalwendë sheathed her sword, staring at Glorfindel all the while. 'How many?'

He paused fractionally before answering. 'Four or five.'

Lalwendë's eyes narrowed. 'Why are you lying to me?'

Glorfindel pursed his lips and straightened. 'Because I can see you're already upset that I left without waking you.'

She pressed a palm to her chest, feeling her heartbeat gradually slow. 'You're right.'

'I'm sorry,' he said quietly. 'But I knew the risk, and I knew I would be safe.'

'How many?' she asked again, and he sighed.

'Twenty-three.'

She stared at him, silent. She'd wanted to chastise him, rebuke him for leaving her behind to protect her rather than letting her help him. But… twenty-three. He'd leapt headlong into a small army of orcs, and he was the one who had come out the other end.

She'd almost forgotten about this side of him – the side that had dived without hesitation into tempestuous oceans to save his people. The side that had bodily dug elves out of the ice in the Helcaraxë. The side that was a commander in Turgon's army and a lord of Gondolin.

He had never once agreed to spar with her. Glorfindel was the strongest person she knew, and it stood to reason that he was also a deadly warrior. She couldn't fault him for trusting his own capabilities. She had to trust him too.

'Are you injured?' she finally asked. He shook his head, and she nodded slowly. 'Next time… just tell me where you're going. Please.'

In the dappled moonlight, she could see his eyes soften, and he nodded. She went and sat down against the tree Glorfindel had been sitting at before, but she didn't relax again until he came and sat beside her. He nudged her closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder. They didn't move until the sun rose.


Weeks later, they were riding through a dry riverbed along a rugged mountain range. They had travelled in silence for most of the morning, but Lalwendë decided to break it to voice her thoughts.

'I worry for Fingolfin,' she said into the crisp morning air. 'He won't know where I've gone, and he'll imagine the worst.'

'I was thinking the same thing,' Glorfindel replied, his voice vibrating against her back. 'I thought we could ask Turgon to send a message to tell him what happened.'

Lalwendë blinked, taken aback. 'Why didn't you tell me? I've been worried for days!'

She felt him shrug behind her. 'I didn't think to say anything.'

She sighed in exasperation. 'You should tell me what you're thinking.'

'I know.'

'My brother will hear that I was cast out of Doriath, alone in the wilds, and that I disappeared. He'll think I've been killed.'

'Only a fool would think that,' Glorfindel replied. 'You're more than capable of fending for yourself.'

'That's not the point. He will worry nonetheless.'

'Turgon has pigeons that fly to Hithlum,' he said. 'I'll ask him to send one.'

'Thank you.'

They rode for a while more before Glorfindel spoke up again. 'It makes more sense now, why we were turned away from Doriath.'

'Why?'

'We tried to get into Doriath with Aredhel, a few days before you found me,' he said. 'They told us no Noldor were allowed in those lands, but they never told us that it was because Thingol finally found out about the kinslaying.'

'He forbade Quenya in his kingdom too,' she said sombrely. 'He said anyone speaking or listening to it would be punished.'

'That is hard,' Glorfindel muttered.

'He told me I should change my name to something Sindarin, since Lalwendë is Quenya,' she added.

'That's a shame. I like your name.'

She smiled. 'Do you have any suggestions, then?'

'For your Sindarin name?' He paused. 'How about… Dagorch?'

She snorted. 'Orc-killer? How pretty.'

'Alright,' Glorfindel said, sounding amused. 'What about a Sindarin equivalent of your own name?'

Lalwendë paused to think. 'You mean Lalaith?'

'Mm.'

'I like it,' she decided. 'That will have to do.'

'It doesn't really matter, though,' he said. 'They won't worry much if you speak Quenya in Gondolin.'

'Good,' said Lalwendë. 'No one should have to forget their mother tongue…' She trailed off, falling silent as she felt Glorfindel stiffen behind her. 'What's wrong?' she whispered.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' he asked. His voice had become flat, emotionless. It was like a shield, which had been down for the past few weeks, was going back up. He was bracing for rejection.

'Do what?' she asked, twisting to look up at him.

'We're nearly at the gates,' he said, meeting her gaze with calm blue eyes. 'Once we go in, we can't come back out.'

Lalwendë turned to stare back at the dry riverbed they had been riding along for hours. She squinted. It seemed the riverbed was leading them straight into the base of a mountain. She saw something move, and her eyes widened as she realised what Glorfindel had moments before: there were guards, waiting for them.

This was it. These were her last moments outside the city of Gondolin. She swallowed thickly; she'd made the decision, and she would gladly live with it, but… she would miss the freedom to wander, the call of the unexplored world.

'I'm ready,' she murmured.

Glorfindel dismounted, and she did the same. Hidden from the view of the faraway guards by Glorfindel's horse, he kissed her quickly.

'I almost wish we could have stayed this way,' he said quietly, his thumbs tracing over her cheeks. 'Alone in the wilderness.'

She smiled. 'It would be a lonely life.'

'Not for me.'

She pulled him down to press her lips to his one more time. 'Maybe in another world. Another time. But we're together now.'

'Thank the Valar,' he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.

'Thank the Valar,' she agreed. 'Now, show me our new home.'

They went on foot the rest of the way to the gates. The only way into Gondolin, Glorfindel explained, was the dry riverbed that had carved a path through the mountains. When Gondolin had finally been built, Turgon had place gates and guards at each end of the tunnel. No one could get in or out without him knowing.

The two guards saluted to Glorfindel as they approached, but they eyed Lalwendë warily. Glorfindel nodded to them.

'This is Írimë, sister of the King's father,' he said, his voice not betraying even a hint of emotion. His mask was back in place. 'She is here under my protection.'

'Lady Aredhel is not with you?' one of the guards asked, and Lalwendë felt, rather than saw, Glorfindel tense beside her.

'That is news for the King's ears,' he said flatly. The two guards exchanged glances, then one went and unlocked the gate to the entrance of the tunnel.

'Welcome to Gondolin, my lady,' he said to her, offering her a torch from a bracket in the stone wall. She smiled her thanks, and they went in.

The tunnel under the mountain was long and pitch black, the darkness chased away only by the light of the torch in Lalwendë's hand. She was filled with trepidation as they walked on; she'd taken the step. She'd made the decision, and now she was trapped in this city.

No, she chastised herself silently. She wasn't trapped, she was safe. With Glorfindel. She reached out until she felt his hand, warm as always, and her heart skipped a beat when he intertwined his fingers with hers.

It took them almost two hours to make it through to the other side of the mountain. They passed through five more sets of gates, the first made of stone, then bronze, iron, silver, and gold. Each gate was opened and closed behind them by guards, their faces hidden by helms.

The last gate was made of steel. Lalwendë could see people waiting with the guards at the end of the tunnel, but she couldn't make out their faces against the bright light. As they drew closer, Glorfindel dropped her hand. Lalwendë looked down, but she didn't say anything.

The midday sunlight was blinding when they stepped out of the tunnel, and the seventh gate clanged closed behind them as Lalwendë blinked to adjust her sight. And as the brightness faded, her mouth dropped open.

It looked like the Valinorean city of Tirion, once her home, had been rebuilt in Middle-earth. Gondolin had been built on a gentle hill in the midst of a tight circle of mountains, utterly impenetrable from the outside.

It was ringed by a white wall of stone. Towers of white marble rose gracefully into the sky, and Lalwendë could see the rainbow mist of several fountains. The city was dotted with spots of bright colour where flowers grew, and white birds drifted overhead, calling sweetly to each other. She couldn't bring herself to look away.

'You were our last hope,' one of the elves was saying to Glorfindel in Sindarin. 'Neither Egalmoth nor I could find any trace of Aredhel.'

'I would have searched for longer,' Glorfindel said, 'but I – found someone else, and returned here sooner than I planned.'

So he'd abandoned his search for Aredhel because of her, Lalwendë thought. She tore her eyes away from Gondolin to meet the gazes of the two elves. They were dressed in lordly robes, their hair braided to keep it out of their faces. One of them looked familiar to her; both of them were watching her curiously.

'I am Írimë, Finwë's daughter,' she said. 'I'm sorry for what happened with Aredhel.'

'This is Ecthelion,' Glorfindel said quietly, pointing to the familiar-looking elf, 'and Egalmoth. They are friends.'

'Welcome to Gondolin,' Egalmoth said. 'King Turgon will be glad to see you, I am sure.'

But he will be devastated that Aredhel has not returned, Lalwendë finished silently. She nodded, and glanced up at Glorfindel. He met her gaze, and though nothing in his face changed, she felt reassured.

Ecthelion glanced between the two of them and rose and eyebrow before smoothing his face and clearing his throat. 'With me, if you will,' he said, and he led the way into the city.

Egalmoth took Glorfindel's horse away to be stabled, and Glorfindel, Ecthelion and Lalwendë continued up to the palace at the top of the city.

'It's beautiful,' Lalwendë said, feeling a stab of homesickness. 'It's so much like Tirion.'

Glorfindel's mouth softened into his equivalent of a smile, and Ecthelion beamed. 'It is, isn't it?' he said. 'Tirion was a home to many of us, and we worked hard to make Gondolin the same way.'

'There are a lot more fountains here, though,' she added, and Ecthelion spread his arms wide and bowed dramatically.

'You are too kind.'

'Ecthelion is the lord of the House of the Fountain,' Glorfindel explained drily.

'And proud of it,' Ecthelion said, laughing. 'Now – may I ask what has brought you to our valley, lady?'

Lalwendë fought the urge to look at Glorfindel. 'I – have been wanting to see more of Middle-earth,' she said.

Ecthelion's smile faded. 'You… you do know it is forbidden to leave this place?'

'Yes,' she said. 'I suppose I saw everything else I wanted to see, and Gondolin was the only thing left.'

'Of course,' Ecthelion replied, not sounding convinced at all. 'Well, in any case, you are welcome here.'

The final courtyard before the King's palace housed the biggest fountain Lalwendë had ever seen. Its spray caught the sunlight and scattered hundreds of rainbows through the air. She stared at it, wonderstruck. Ecthelion smirked.

Guards let them into the great hall, at the far end of which Turgon was seated, his daughter Idril on a throne beside him. When he saw them enter, he got to his feet and came to greet them. He came to a stop before Glorfindel, his blue eyes intent.

'Aredhel?' he asked quietly. Glorfindel shook his head.

'I could not find her. I failed you.' Lalwendë noticed his fingers twitching slightly at his sides, as though he were trying to stop himself clenching them.

'You have never failed me, and I doubt you ever will,' Turgon said firmly, despite the light of disappointment in his eyes. 'The matter is out of our hands now.'

Glorfindel nodded once, and Turgon turned to Lalwendë. He grinned widely, and held out his arms.

'Lalwen,' he said, and she smiled back, embracing him.

'Hello, my darling.'

'What fortune has brought you here?'

She hesitated for a moment, thinking of Glorfindel dropping her hand in the tunnel. It was clear that he didn't want people to know anything about… well, them, at least not yet. And she was willing to respect that – but she wouldn't lie about it to her family.

'I wanted to see Gondolin,' she said. 'I came here with Glorfindel.'

'I see,' Turgon replied slowly. He glanced back at Glorfindel, who stood unmoving.

'Lalwen!' came a melodious voice behind him, and Idril came forward to fling her arms around Lalwendë. 'It's been too long!'

'You're all grown,' Lalwendë said, pulling back to inspect her. She suddenly couldn't shake the memory of pushing little Idril's face into her cloak so she couldn't see the corpse of her mother in the Helcaraxë. 'You look – you look just like your mother.'

Idril nodded, smiling radiantly. 'That's what everyone says.'

'Ah. Well, fortunately for you, your mother was very beautiful.'

'You will be tired from your journey,' Turgon said. 'Ecthelion, will you show Lalwendë to a room? You know where all the empty ones are.'

'I certainly do,' Ecthelion said cheerfully. 'With me, my lady.'

'You get some rest too, Glorfindel,' Turgon added. 'I mean it.'

Glorfindel nodded, and at Ecthelion's gesture, he and Lalwendë made their way out of the hall.

They wound through several corridors, Ecthelion pointing out features of Gondolin along the way. The air was fresh, and Lalwendë could smell the perfume of the flowers on it. She could get used to this, she supposed.

They passed a few people on their way. Most of them smiled and nodded to Ecthelion – but when they saw Glorfindel, their smiles faded and they averted their gaze respectfully. None of it slipped Lalwendë's notice, but the other two didn't seem bothered by it.

'And… here,' Ecthelion said, as they reached a broad balcony. 'This is the best view of the city. You can see most of the valley from here too.'

Lalwendë stepped out and walked to the waist-high stone wall that separated her from a considerable drop. Ecthelion was right; she could see down over the whole city from here. She could see hundreds of elves, Noldor and Sindar, going about their daily lives.

The valley was starkly beautiful and green, the mountains ringing it tipped with snow. She wondered if Turgon would lend her a horse, and whether she could ride through the valley like she had in Tirion. It would certainly make life trapped in one place more bearable…

Lalwendë frowned as she heard her name behind her. Ecthelion was talking softly, but not quite softly enough.

'What about her?' Glorfindel asked stiffly.

'What do you mean, what about her?' Ecthelion murmured. 'There is very obviously something going on, but you have a face like a slab of marble, and I cannot tell what.'

'If you want to imply something, just say it,' Glorfindel muttered.

'What I am asking,' Ecthelion said, 'is – do you love her, or do you hate her?'

There was a silence just long enough to make Lalwendë start to feel nervous. Then –

'I do not hate her.'

'Aha!' Ecthelion crowed, then he lowered his voice again. 'What good news! And she loves you in return?'

No response.

'I am happy for you, my friend. There's been a change in you ever since you got back – don't shake your head at me, I can tell.'

'It is nobody's business but ours.'

Lalwendë couldn't hide her smile; she was glad she was facing away.

'Very well, I'll keep quiet. But I know exactly which room I'm putting her in.'

'Which?'

'You'll see,' Ecthelion said gleefully. 'You know, I've only known her a little while, but I think I like her.'

'Of course you will like her,' Glorfindel replied dismissively. 'Everyone will.'

Lalwendë decided she'd been studying the view for long enough, and she turned back to face them. They fell silent, Glorfindel looking out past her to the valley.

'It's beautiful,' she said, and Ecthelion smiled.

'Well, now you can call it home,' he replied. 'Come on, let's get you to a room.'

He took her to a corridor of the king's palace that seemed a little more isolated, emptier than the others. Ecthelion opened a door of white wood – intricately engraved with a pattern of flowering vines – into a spacious, uninhabited room.

'It looks west, so you can watch the sun set every day,' Ecthelion said. 'There is a washroom through that door there, with a basin and a tub. If you want for anything, just let one of the King's household know.'

'It's lovely,' she said, smiling. Glorfindel was surveying the room critically. The view really was beautiful; the room was quite high-up up, and overlooked some of the city. There was a tapestry on one of the walls, depicting the creation of the sun, and the lovelorn moon chasing her across the sky. There was another door near the fireplace, this one unengraved.

'Was there no one who lived in here before?' she asked curiously.

'You will be the first,' Ecthelion replied. 'Though for the life of me I can't imagine why people have steered clear of it…' Lalwendë frowned, not understanding the joke.

'Stop teasing her,' Glorfindel muttered. Ecthelion laughed and clapped Glorfindel on the shoulder.

'Very well. My lady, we will leave you to settle in. I'll have food and more clothes sent up, and someone to set a fire.'

'Wait,' Lalwendë said as they exited the room, 'what is behind the other door?'

'A terrifying monster, some might say!' Ecthelion called over his shoulder – then the door was shut, and there was silence.

Lalwendë stood still for a moment, savouring the quiet. Then she went over and sat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and took off her boots.

Glorfindel had been very quiet since they'd arrived in Gondolin. It didn't worry her exactly, but she suspected that the Glorfindel she'd known out in the wilderness wasn't the same Glorfindel who had lived here in Gondolin for hundreds of years.

She thought about the way the people of Gondolin had looked at him as they passed – with respect, certainly, but also with caution, and perhaps a hint of fear. She worried that he would close himself off from her now that they were back. Had it been a mistake to come here? Had their travels together been nothing but a dream?

She stood up, shaking her head to clear it. There was no point in regretting her decision to come here; she was here for better or worse, and that was that. She cast her eyes over her quarters again. A sweet-smelling breeze was drifting in from the open doors leading out to her balcony. And the second door…

A terrifying monster lived behind it, according to Ecthelion. Lalwendë decided that curiosity was better than brooding over the absent Glorfindel, so she strode over and yanked it open. Then she yelped and leapt back, finding herself face to face with Glorfindel, his hand raised as though poised to knock.

The second he realised it was her, he moved forwards and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck and breathing her in. She held him tightly, feeling the anxiety drain out of her with his embrace.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbled into her skin.

'For what?' she murmured.

'I don't know. I don't know how to be now.'

'It's alright.'

'I feel…'

He trailed off, and she felt a sigh run through his large frame like a wave. 'What?' she asked.

'No, nothing,' he replied, his voice still muffled. She pulled away, disentangling herself and leaving only her hands in his.

'No,' she said firmly. 'Tell me.'

Glorfindel looked distinctly uncomfortable. 'I don't know how to put it.'

'I know, and I don't care,' she said.

Glorfindel stared down at her, his dark blue eyes indecipherable. 'I feel happy now, with you here,' he said slowly. 'But I didn't feel happy before, and now I'm trying to… figure that out.'

'I don't think you need to figure it out,' she said, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his chin. 'I think you just need to let yourself be happy.'

When she pulled away, there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. 'People won't know what to think of me.'

'They'll probably be glad that Glorfindel, Scourge of the Halls of Gondolin, has found something to smile about.'

Contrary to her gentle jibe, Glorfindel's smile faded. 'I don't mean to intimidate people,' he said, 'but I know I do.'

'You don't scare me,' she said quietly. It was true; she knew he could face a small army of orcs and come out victorious. She knew he was the lord of a house in Gondolin, and she knew that if he wasn't silent, he was surly.

But she also knew how she'd felt as though there was a part of her missing for hundreds of years, and Glorfindel had filled that hole. She was willing to put up with almost anything if it meant she could stay near him, and his gruff temperament wasn't going to stop her.

'I'm going to tell Turgon that I mean to marry you,' Glorfindel said.

'And poor Ecthelion?' she asked, feeling warmed from the inside.

'He has already meddled enough,' Glorfindel said. 'He deserves to be left wondering.'

'I meant to ask before – why is this part of the palace so quiet?'

'Because I live here,' Glorfindel said, 'and no one particularly wants to be my neighbour.'

'And through that door there…'

Glorfindel smiled down at her. 'Yes. Ecthelion put you in this room because there is a door that connects you to my quarters.'

Lalwendë smiled back at him, tugging him closer again. 'I think I like it here.'


She was covered in blankets, but her body was continuously wracked by spasms of violent shivering. Azshar didn't feel cold, though; she just felt pain.

The pain was all-consuming, eating away at her from the inside. She wanted to claw her way out of her own skin, but she was too weak to even lift a finger. She couldn't seem to get enough breath into her lungs. She opened her eyes.

She was in a bed, somewhere quiet and dimly lit. Glorfindel was sitting on a chair beside her, his head buried in his arms on the bed. He was sleeping, and all she could see of him was his blonde curls, cut to shoulder length.

She tried to open her mouth, tried to summon the strength to call to him, to tell him that she was awake, that she remembered, but she couldn't. She was dying, she realised; she was being washed away by the flood of memories, bit by bit. Crushed beneath the avalanche, as Thranduil had warned.

It wouldn't be long now.