Maeglin, son of Eöl the Dark Elf and Aredhel the Daughter of Turgon, King of Gondolin; long have I been fascinated with his character. His tales are told in the Silmarillion, and in Lost Tales, and they are sad, as are all of the old tales of Elves. Here is some exploring I have done with his character from LT, and also a peek at another Old Elven Legend, Celebrimbor the son of Curufin, son of Fëanor. Please feel free to comment or muse. I am interested in everyone's viewpoint about these legends.

Chapter Three, The Cairn of Fingolfin

Climbing the rugged hills was less toil than fording the river of thoughts that coursed through my mind. So many things might go awry with this effort, and yet I pressed on, no need to hurry but that I was eager to come to the height of this mound, and be assured that I had not been followed or espied. My hands and feet busy with the scaling of the rise; my back and belly itched as if feeling the tracks of eyes watching. Often I would pause, but no sound did I hear. Who could follow soundlessly up a vertical cliff but perhaps a serpent?

A hand I did not see reached down and clasped my collar, lifting me over the last boulder where I had balked. I was thrown down upon the graveled surface. A shadow unpaled by the gleaming stars stood there, and I saw the flash of teeth as he smiled.

Almost I called out to Tuor, whom I had suspected had somehow come ahead, perhaps more quickly along the secret way and had come before me to the rendezvous with further news. My words were stopped however, because I noted the blue gleam of steel in the figure's hand. I rose to my feet.

"A strange place you choose to come alone, dark elf," Maeglin said, and he leaned against great stone that was piled upon one side with many smaller stones. "Why have you come to the Cairn of Fingolfin? This place is sacred to Turgon; the grave of his father is no place for idleness or mischief."

"I have my lord's leave to come here, Maeglin," I said by way of answer, and with cold restraint wrestled my panic into a dark corner of my soul. "Get you back to the city before your fear makes you craven in the night. As you say, this is no place for mischief."

Maeglin swung his sword idly, cleaving small rocks with the whispering blade as though they were balls of bread. "I thought it strange that you should come out of the city alone for a time. What business could you have in the Hills? Perhaps you go to meet enemies and spill the secrets of Gondolin that you have espied in these years; so I have counseled the king. Are they to meet you here, or do you have to give signal? How can you betray the people who took you in and husbanded you in your barbarism?"

High above our heads, the stars marked the time between sun set and rise as middle-night. I saw occluding movement that caused them to wink out and reappear. "I am no thrall, as well my Lord Turgon knows," I retorted, unable to keep all anger from my voice, "Look not for my reflection in the mirror of thy guilt."

His voice hissed, a threatened viper's rattle: "Do you accuse me? How dare you!" He raised his sword and I dove to the ground, for I had noted the rapid approach of the raptor behind Maeglin's oblivious back. I heard him curse as it struck, and the clatter and complaint of his sword as it bit the stones. He was borne over the edge of the shelf, tumbling to a steep fall. I could only hope that it was a fatal one. I had no time to insure his demise.

I did not look after him but leapt up and ran, lest others in his employ lingered unseen. To the top of the great mound of stones did I leap, and there spread my arms to receive the gift of flight.

As silent as an owl did the Eagle return, and his talons closed vice-like upon my arms, wrenching me into the black air. The wind of our passage bit me, and the claws had creased my flesh, but I did not feel the pain of this as vertigo and darkness enfolded me in wings of forgetfulness.

All of the details of this adventure are not mine to share, and though someday the full tale may be known, it shall not be I who discloses it. I will say only that though you may clad an Elf in feathers and teach her to fly, she is not a bird. The thin airs above the earth are not her home, and her bones are not hollow.

More grateful than a Dwarf for a lode of ore was I when my feet touched down again upon the soil, however may leagues upon leagues I had traveled. Limbs crippled with cold I fell to the earth, and my eyes were all blackness for a long time.

When sight returned that was not memories unbidden of darkness, I saw before me a strange face lit by hearth or candles. My flesh felt all afire, as if I was set amid coals. Weakly I stirred and hands did assist me to sit. Water to my lips was cold and delicious. I drank for a long time.

"You must have the very heart of the Stone City beating in your breast!" spoke the face, and as my vision unclouded I saw it was a fair face that was lit as though within by a golden lamp. "I am Celebrimbor, smith of Nargothrond. I am a friend of Glorfindel."

He was of impressive stature, a tall elf not slim and willowy as the archers and their bows, nor the swordsmen and their rapiers. He was thick with muscle, and his skin was dark with working near heat ceaselessly. His hands were large and strong, and his hair was pulled back in a tight bind, braided and long down his back. It was golden white in colour.

We were in a cave or delving, and it was cool and dry with a fire that burned against the wall and vents that carried the smoke away. A dark tunnel opened to either side, dwindling to inky mouths that carried on echoingly. I was lying on a pile of furs and thick blankets.

"This is one of the ore mines near Nargothrond. A remote area that is difficult to reach and has been mined out long ago. We have been using it as a locale for our negotiations with the Dwarves. Recently it has become a forge and now a sickroom. Tell me, did you understand all that you would endure, when the Lady Idril set you this task?"

I laughed as I levered myself upright. "The things we do for the love of our family; what is there to understand? I could do this thing, and no other. But I am unsure: Why am I here, and not in Doriath? My lord did instruct me to go there."

"Our plans have been changed." Celebrimbor looked both annoyed and excited. "The true-silver that was discovered the Dwarves hoard jealously. They will not teach the making of the precious metal, nor suffer their artists to be observed. Long labour and trade have I made, over the many leagues between these mountains and Hadhodrond. At last, I persuaded one Dwarf to come here and make the garment, in this secret place. He works even now to finish the shirt, though he grumbles and curses constantly. By the time you are fit to travel again, it should be complete."

My limbs are shaking from holding me upright, but I force myself to move about. Eagle's claws have rent furrows in my arms, and I wind the shreds of my tunic over the wounds. Would that another easier conveyance could be found. "Little love have I for any who dwell in Nargothrond, Lord Celebrimbor. Too sharply I recall my Lord Finrod's abandonment by his people. I do not know you nor blame only you, but I am not pleased to be here, and may not have come indeed, had I know I came hither."

Celebrimbor looked sad and forlorn listening to the wrath in my voice. "I do not agree with the way of my father and his brothers. When they did turn his people against Finrod, I renounced my kinship with them. Let me not be remembered as a traitor and a throne-thief. I will have me away from here to Hadhodrond whenso I can. There is no future for Elves in the North while the sons of Fëanor feed the Oath." And the bitterness in his words cools my anger a little.

I stand in the semi-darkness watching Celebrimbor carving, thinking what welcome I could expect in Gondolin when Maeglin reported our evening constitutional.