Chapter Eleven
…
With the Strength of Lords, they challenged the Dark One.
Fingolfin's mighty spear peeled apart their stone walls.
The sons of Finarfin charged great horses.
Maedhros unleashed a miasma of death and vengeance.
And the strength of the Sons of Feanor are unmatched and the walls of Darkness are closed once more.
"Thus began the Elder Days. But soon, the flames will fade, and only Dark will remain.
Even now, there are only embers, and Elves see not light, but only endless nights for what is ahead.
…
If somebody has told Maglor a century before that he would be willingly leading Elves again, he might have laughed at their face before kicking them away. The burns of his hand when he held the Silmaril that he and Maedhros (the original one) manage to steal away from the Valar was a constant reminder of the evil things that the Oath of Feanor took from him. Even now he can still remember it, the First Kinslaying at Alqualonde, the decision to leave behind their kin to their demise at the Helacraxe, the Sacking of Doriath and the murder of Dior, the sacking of the Havens. His hands are stained with the blood of the innocent. It is a wonder that he doesn't become a bonfire when he touched the Silmaril, a representation of the Original Light of the World.
Right now though he is meeting his son at his own private place of solace, a small river that flows on the skipping rocks where a mountain forest hangs. Ever since Maedhros has taken his responsibility as once and future king of Gondolin, launching the Great Liberation, he has been swamped literally by work. Maglor does his best to help him but the natural ability of Maedhros to the leadership skill still makes him majority of the logistics. His son's free time literally becomes non-existent. This little stream is thus his son's private place when he needs some peace and quiet.
"Should have known I will find you here Maedhros," Maglor says as he espies Maedhros at the far edge of the stream holding a fishing rod wearing a simple white and silver robe instead of the ornate ones he usually prefer.
"Ada? I guess mother is the one who sent you here?"
"Right you are on that one. She is worried about you," replies Maglor sitting himself behind his now grown up son. He raises an eyebrow though at the empty basket at the side of his son.
"No such luck?"
"None yet so far," snorts Maedhros. "I prefer it though, waiting I mean. It gives me time to think and get my mind in order,"
"After that grueling Council session, I have no doubt that anyone would need some much needed peace of mind,"
To say the least, the decision of Maedhros to accept the House of Balan to the Kingdom of Gondolin has been getting a lot of scrutiny. Firstly because of the king's original decision to ban and kick out the humans off of the Kingdom's territories. Secondly is due to the news brought by the First Expedition Group before. The First after all is a celebrity when it first returned with news of its success. However that return is darkened by the ill reports of the actions of the farmers at Sirion.
Maedhros that time does not see it fit to quell the negative opinion of the citizenry of Gondolin about the humans. It is his order after all to remove them from the newly reacquired territories of Forlindon. Now with his new decision to accept the House of Balan as citizens of the kingdom. Many suffice it to say are rather feeling reluctant about the sudden turn of events. Thankfully their respect for him as the once and future king of Gondolin remains and other than a few grumbles, majority have simply decided that if it is the King's decision, then it must be the right path to follow.
"I believe that you have gone into the history of these humans before you made the decision to incorporate them into the kingdom son?"
"You're not fighting me on this Ada?" asks a surprised Maedhros which Maglor simply answers with a shrug.
"You forget my son that you are talking to one of the original Elves who first met humanity before. I know from personal experience the strength and the valor that they bring to the table. So no, I am not going against with you on this. In fact I would even advise you that you incorporate them to the fold if only for the assets that they may bring for the kingdom,"
"I can sense a but there Ada," replies Maedhros making Maglor give off a wry smile.
"Yes, before everything else I want you to remember two things when it comes to dealing with men. First and above all else my son, always make sure that you have their loyalty. Men can be the greatest of allies but it is the betrayal of men at the Nirnaeth Anoeriad (the Battle of Unnumbered Tears) that led to the death of High King Fingon and the great defeat of the Elven realms. Secondly my son…..don't get too attached,"
"How so you mean Ada?" asks Maedhros this time making Maglor sigh as he sits beside his son.
"We Elves are not touched by time, as such we tend to forget especially in times of bliss and peace like we enjoy today that Men are mortal. After a hundred years or so they become frail, old and weak, passing away into the void. It might not much matter today but I tell you my son. During the Siege of Angband, I have met many friends from the original Three Houses. Great friends, brave ones too. I've fought with them, laughed with them and shared many a memory. I've seen them all wither and die before my eyes, and such loss cannot be explained by words. So I'm just telling you to prepare you for what is to come,"
For a moment the two of them are silent as they watch the line simply floating there on the rushing water.
"I know father, I know. Yet I've already loved them. They are a young race, so full of potential for good or evil. They have much to learn. The original Three Houses failed when they become separated with the Eldar, trapped in that island of theirs that become Numenor. They forget the light and how to maintain it constantly. Isn't it our duty to make sure that they do since we are entrusted by it in the first place?"
"As I said before my son, this decision of yours I fully accept. At least tell me you have managed where that they would need to settle?"
"I have Ada. Ironically the Gap South which remains our biggest problem is the solution. I have already made agreements ironing out that the Men belonging to the House of Beor would have freedom to settle the territories West from the Streams of Rhomros to the East of the Thalos river. They would be free to conduct their affairs and have dominion on their own actions and even able to select their own chief. The only clauses I made is that being part of the Kigndom of Gondolin, they would adhere to the laws of the kingdom and its practices. I've also interred in return for settling of Dor-E-Mitlaph, they would hold it in the name of the King,"
"They agreed to that?" asks Maglor.
"Yes, in return to calling Dor-E-Mitlaph their fiefdom, they would be able to travel and trade freely the entirety of the kingdom, able to enjoy the same benefits as any of its citizenry. They would be able to apply to any work or trade as long as they have the skills for it and even join the army if they want to. In other words, they would be part of the kingdom in every aspect possible except for the fact that Dor-E-Mitlaph would be their fief and home,"
"I see, it is almost the same agreement as the Edain did during our time, I like it," Maglor sighs as he remembers the current issue however that landed his son in this situation where he argues with the Council for the newly dubbed House Beor. "We need to improve the relations between the Elves of Gondolin and your new invitees my son. Despite the fact that many would not want to argue with your decision, majority are still of the opinion thanks to the botched First Contact by the First Expeditonary Group that Men are self-serving assholes. We need to change that view if we ever plan for the House of Beor to be integrated successfully here,"
"I know father and I've already got a plan for that. I've invited Balan and the rest of his immediate family and the Elders of his kin to attend the crowning ceremony tomorrow. At least this way the Elves would see that I am fully bringing them to the fold. After all no one can simply come without invitation,"
"Ahh yes, the crowning ceremony, please tell me that you have found a female companion for the feast after that?"
Despite himself, Maglor can't help but chuckle at the pained look that comes across his poor son's face. As amazing as he is at warfare and ruling, Maedhros both from the past and the present simply has no skills when it comes to dealing with Elleth.
…..
One Day Later
Balan stares in wonder as walks into the capital city of Gondolin. Never has he seen such walls and buildings. Massive towers that rise to the sky, white roads as clear and clean, proud walls that look like it has been built by giants, tapestries that are woven so beautifully that the characters look ready to jump out of the threads where they are made, and arts of every kind from simple pottery done so meticulously to paintings. Everywhere around him, the Elves of Gondolin do everything as perfect as possible. If there is any doubt on Balan's mind about trusting the future of his people to the Elven King, it has all but disappeared.
Color Balan surprised when last week, an elven courier appeared at their camp bearing direct messages from the king inviting him and his family to his coronation. Apparently despite being king by name and seat, His Majesty, Maedhros has not yet officially taken his mantle, thus the coronation.
The invitation catches the eighty year old man off guard. After all despite being the elected leader of his house, the fact still remains that he and his people are still by definition, refugees. Their lands come from farther East past the great sand dunes of Rhun where large tribes of Easterlings rule. Balan and his people are descended from the men of Numenor that once put on thrall the many tribes of the locals, taking massive tributes from them in exchange for their life. They are what you might say, sons of bastard sons left behind when the sailors and the soldiers sleep around the locals. When Numenor sinks beneath the waves, the Easterlings immediately turn their wrath against them, making them pay for the sins of their fathers. They become slaves, workers, miners, thralls for many a chieftains petty rivalry.
Balan however refuses the lot of his life. Being a worker on the mines all his life, he leads a revolt against their oppressors, lighting a fuse to generations' worth of fury against the Easterlings. They might not be pureblooded Numenoreans but still the blood of their forefathers run through their veins making them stronger and sturdier than any man from Middle-Earth. Leading the survivors from his revolt after throwing off the shackles of their masters, Balan leads them all past the biting sands of Rhun braving thirst and danger to reach the Western lands.
Balan might have been born a slave but the old folk tales whispered and passed down by his people tell of the friends of the Sea Kings before their fall. Bright eyed, fey folk that call the forests their home, immortal beings that worship the light and able to wield the magic of the very land and fighting against the darkness. Such old tales lead the man's heart Westward, where the old tales tell.
The journey has been perilous and many are lost along the way as Balan's people get past Rhun only to end up North of Middle-Earth at the Northern Wastes. Most of their time are spent avoiding dragons and their hatchlings, angry dwarves and trolls. The very weather is an enemy as the Northern Wastes lack vegetation and such game there is, is sparse. Cold becomes their adversary and again more losses. They passed down South to enter the lands on the rich lands of Arnor giving the beleaguered exiles a reprieve. Unfortunately the Arnorians under King Earendur spurned them away, only seeing a ragged group of people with Easterling blood. Faced with the swords of their western kin, they turn and head South finally reaching an empty rich land that no one has claim.
Only to be set upon by the very Elves which their old tales tell about.
Balan has originally thought that he is seeing a god as the Elven king that played that song. As he listened to the words, his heart is moved as he sees beautiful things of hope, the sea, a fire that rages but does not burn, instead giving warmth, driving away the darkness and the snow. It awakens something in him, a drive that has slowly been dying with disaster after disaster on this long journey of theirs.
He has expected a fight or to be kicked out like before when he is informed that he and his people are squatting on the lands of a kingdom. They have become hardy and enduring folk thanks to their travels and the tests that they have overcome to get where they are. Seeing however the beautifully crafted armor and weapons by that angry she-elf and her companions seeking their king, Balan knows that if he has chosen to fight that day, none of them would have survived.
Yet there is no fight. No demands that they leave and take their rags with them, no. They are literally beggars, squatters in the land of a kingdom that Balan knows is more than capable of squashing even the strongest of the Easterling tribes back home. He knows the tales, the legends of the First born, the Eldar who has bright eyes and shining souls fighting against the legions of the Dark Lord, Morgoth. What happened is a miracle for Balan to witness and no one can refute that for him.
For there they are, ragged, lost and bereft without home and he comes, the Elven king with music, light and power. Instead of fear, he gives them faith, instead of doubt, he gives them grace, instead of being kicked out and driven off, what is offered is a chance, a chance for them to establish their own home.
It is hard for Balan to even try to explain why? All he knows is that the king of Gondolin offered them Dor-E-Mithlap with all its surrounding territories for them to grow. While they would remain autonomous and following their own traditions, the only trade that they are required is simple, that they honor the laws of Gondolin and at the same time protect their land to the best of their ability. In exchange they would be pseudo-citizens of the Elven kingdom with all the rights that it entails, they would have the right to barter, trade and avail the kingdom's resources without worry or prejudice. They would be able to apply to its institutions as long as they have the skill. In other words, for everything that Balan's people have endured until now, they are finally able to call someplace home.
That is why Balan has no qualms changing his name to Beor which means "Vassal" and one which his House will be known for. For him it would his utmost honor to serve with his entire life a king as gracious as Maedhros, the once and future king of Gondolin.
….
Gondolin, Tower of the King
For many years, as Gondolin grow more and more as a kingdom, the more the Noldor kindred of its people do their best to make sure that their capital remain strong, a beacon of beauty, strength and most importantly, a city of envy for everyone in the land. It is their greatest gift to their king and the utmost of their contribution to their people.
A great statue made of silver and gold stands proud as tall as the Tower of the King holding a massive sword pointed to the sky, a statue that Maedhros would argue to the utmost that "does not look like him" (so far no one agrees with him on that one since it definitely look like him). From it interconnects giant highways that form into a cross that goes all over the different levels of the entirety of Gondolin. The highways are inlaid with the best crystal and silver that the Noldor can find (majority being stripped from the lootage of Goblin chieftains all over the mountains). Hundreds of stairs and walkways connect the highways to the sectors of Gondolin, giving its citizenry free access to it.
The right highway however is connected to the Giant Coliseum pre-prepared by the Noldor beforehand for this very moment, the coronation of their once and future king. A century of preparation and adjustment done for the entire city to be accommodated for this very day.
Drums echo on the walls as every artist and musician in Gondolin are recruited. Elves with blue robes beat massive drums glued to the walls of the Coliseum. In fact any one of them would give up an arm and a leg to be given the privilege to be part of the celebration today. The entrance gates are packed to the brim as Elves all over the kingdom gather in their best finery. Petals of purple, pink and white shower the entirety of the Coliseum basking well with the bright morning sun. No one knows where the petals come from only that the king himself takes responsibility for their presence.
At the raised dais and clearing of the Coliseum inlaid with the purest of marble and gold lines with massive pillars of alabaster and pear sits Maglor with Theririen in simple robes of white with gold paraphernalia. At their side left and right are the members of the Elven Council of Gondolin, Elders of the different tribes that originally lead the different kindreds. Like all Elves they look ageless, wise and powerful, each an Elf-Lord in his own right. At their center and raised above everything else however is an empty throne of gold and mithril, shining brightly under the sunlight. Below the raised dais the people are standing back as the royal guard keeps the distance between the local citizenry and the king's space. A large place however has been set aside for gifts and it is already littered by a thousand and one things, well-wishes and great works from the different families and citizenry of Gondolin for the treasury of their king.
Ecthelion, the great herald of the king and Beleg's best friend stand with his staff of office enchanted by the king himself to aid him on his job.
"AURIEL! LADY OF MINAS TIRITH! THE BANE OF WEREWOLVES" his booming voice can be heard from one end of the Coliseum to the other as the beautiful Commander of the First Expeditionary Group curtsies graciously before the Council and the king's father before taking her place at the seat prepared for her.
"TIRION! LORD OF DORIATH! MASTER OF HORSES!" Ecthelion's booming voice sounds again, vibrating in the air. The head of the Second Expeditionary Group strides forward, wearing a cape of Green with a silver horse head etched on it, with a bow to the council, he follows also beside Auriel, Sognir and Aerthel who are already there announced beforehand.
"BELEG STRONGBOW! LORD OF HIMRING! THE SHIELD OF GONDOLIN!" the head of the Royal Guard strides forward and stiffly bows before the council. Compared to the others, he is dressed like the rest of his men instead of the ornate robes and apparel of everyone else. With a nod at Maglor, he stations himself beside the empty throne of the king amidst the cheers of the people at the mention of his name.
Massive silver trumpets immediately ring clear drowning off the cheer of the crowds of the Elven people of Gondolin as Ecthelion's voice rise above and beyond their volume.
"HAIL MAGLOR FEANORIAN! REGENT OF THE KINGDOM OF GONDOLIN!" at that Ecthelion bows as the white robed elf stands with a nod of encouragement from his wife.
"Everyone please be silent," his voice is simple, humble but strong and clear silencing the crowd looking at him.
"Praise Eru Illuvatar, the Creator of All,"
"Praise Eru!" Thousands of voices echo.
"The Creator has seen fit to bless this day, as you all bless my family with your presence and your generosity for all these gifts," he pauses as he observes the different faces looking at him. "It has been a century since I first steps up on this regency, and we have gotten far, all of us. This peace, work and prosperity has been the greatest of honors and a part of the legacy of my life. Yet today we crown our real king, the once and future king of our kingdom who made all of this possible for all of us. His legacy has already started but I believe that one day, it can even reach greater bounds that even the West will know,"
"Let us welcome my son, Maedhros Maglorian, once and future king of Gondolin!"
His announcement is followed by a blaze of trumpet and fireworks as a figure in blue and silver armor with a white cape rides at the end of the Highway much to the cheers of the crowd as he removes his helm, long red hair falling freely. He draws his sword, raising it to the air much to the joy of the entire Coliseum who is literally causing a mini earthquake as everyone cheers for their king.
At the raised dais, Maglor's face remain stoic though one can see the ghost of a smile at the upturning of his lips. Beleg on the other hand rolls his eyes at the theatrical entrance of his friend and liege. Already a row of Royal Guards are clearing the way for him as he smiles and laughs at the crowd shouting thanks at them again and again.
Reaching finally the foot of the dais, he fells on one knee, ceremonially placing his helm on the floor and with it his sword, bowing to the Council and to his parents before raising his head. The people of Gondolin smiles as he turns his attention to the lords and ladies of the real, meeting each of them in the eye with each giving off a small nod of approval. He winks at his mother who is meeting his gaze with a proud and happy look before turning to his father who has regained his composure of solemnity and stoically as required for the ceremony of him as regent.
With a small signal at Ecthelion, the regent slams his staff of authority at the ground giving off a gonging sound making everyone hush immediately as the ceremony is finally starting.
"Maedhros…my son…my heir…..my firstborn, hopefully," his words is greeted with a light chuckle from the listening Elves before going solemn again. "You have been entrusted with the crown of Gondolin, the last of the Elven kingdoms, you have proven yourself worthy for many years, and there would be many years to come. A crown is a burden, not a reward, it is both a privilege of your position for you will be loved and a curse for you will put their needs above your own forever. It is a fit reminder for a king. I have defended and built Gondolin and the lives of our people for many uncountable years even before this city is built my son. Do you swear to guard the kingdom?"
"I swear!" the voice of Maedhros answers loud and clear.
"Do you swear to preserve the peace?"
"I swear!"
"Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambitions and devote yourself first and foremost for the good of this realm?"
"I swear!"
"Then by the power and authority vested in me as regent and as your father, with Eru Illuvatar himself and the Valar bearing witness with everyone around here. I, Maglor Feanorian declare you Maedhros Maglorian now and forever, KING of all GONDOLIN and its territories!"
If the heering before is loud, it is nothing compared to the one right now as it is nearly deafening as every elf and man is applauding as Auriel strides forward handing Maglor a crown with a thousand jewels crafted on it. With proud and slow steps, the Feanorian places it on the top of his son's head before stepping back.
"Then rise and be recognized by all, Maedhros Maglorian, king of all Gondolin!"
….
Harlindon, South of the Grey Havens
Once Harlindon is the Southern border of the kingdom of Gil-Galad and many of the last of the Exiles of the Noldor dwell on it. Ever since the return of Sauron and the Fall of Eregion however when the Great Deceiver truly shows himself to the world, many of its Noldor citizenry retreats farther North in the strong walls of the Grey Havens. Ever since then it is the Sindar who calls this woods home retaining much of their previous culture of woodcraft and talans, tree houses.
After the victory of the Last Alliance and the dissolving of Gil-Galad's kingdom, many of them go South with Galadriel and Celeborn to establish the settlement of Lothlorien. What few of them that remain in Harlindon even delve deeper into their woodland practice becoming almost one with the woods that they call home. Years upon years they remain here, a diminished people their numbers dwindling as the land slowly loses the light of the Eldar that once nurture it. The trees become wild, the animals numerous and many beasts of claw and teeth hunt the woods once more.
It is so far from Arnor that rarely, if ever do humans visit Harlindon anymore. The Elves at the Grey Havens, the remnant of the kingdom of Gil-Galad do not also visit these woods anymore and all that is left are the Sindarin folk that still call it home, though not many of them tend to show themselves to anyone anymore.
So when a person wanders into its woods without warning one day, it catches the attention of the Sindar right away. One look however is all that they need to know that the person wandering about their forest is anything but normal, even for an elleth.
Naked she is, that much is obvious but it is obvious that her nakedness does not show itself to the world. Her inner light is so bright that it shines through every pore of her skin hiding all. Her bare feet walks the wet ground, the grey and dull grass long bereft of sunlight growing like the healthiest of plants. Trees that have dissolved into Huorns, due to the wildness of the place and the lack of Ents grow fully, awakening. From her voice comes a song, but what song it is the Sindarin Elves of Harlindon do not know.
She sings of awakening, of life, of sorrow and pain, of rebirth, of power and of gathering. Like moths to the flame they appear out of their talans, Ellyn, Elleth and Elflings, all gather, appearing from the darkness of their homes and into the light.
She walks in the light, her song unending, flowers and animals trailing her footsteps as she heads to a raised hill. Her voice becomes clearer and it seems as if the entire forest has been awakened. Strength anew course through the old and bent trees, many who are weary in heart finds strength again and a veil of power seems to affect the very fabric of the world. Her song sings of power, of guidance, of renewal, of hope and family, of children, of life and dying, of an age unending.
The Sindar of Harlindor gather around her, kneeling. No words are said, no words are needed. They do not need to hear for their very souls interact with this being. Within her shines the Light of Aman and though their eyes cannot see it, their souls can and that is why they are kneeling.
Harlindon is a broken forgotten place, an edge one might say off the map of Middle-Earth, only the Sea is farther. Yet now with her coming, she once more brings life and water for the garden. She is no elf, for no elf will ever have a power like hers. Huorns discard the bitterness off their hearts and they bow as Ents as they see what they see right now, the power of Yavanna flowing freely like a spring of water from her. Her very presence is power and life, restoration to the fullest. For only those who sees and experiences death who can truly understand the value of life, and this one more than just understands.
Only one other like her has walked these lands of Arda ever since the starting of the world. From her comes the lineage unbroken changing the very nature of the world and bringing with it a new age with her descendants on the helm.
Like Melian, she now walks with power and the ability to change the very fabric of the world, a Maia she is, a Maia chosen to be of service to Yavanna, to bring back life and restoration to what is dying and old. To bring back strength to weariness and healing for those who have been touched by death.
Harlindon is a wasteland despite its greenery, the care of the Eldar fully naught but a memory. Now with her coming, the flower of the Northern Lands once more would bloom.
…..
Author's Note:
I want to address the concerns of some of the Readers. First of all the way I see it, Maedhros is trying to bring back the glory of the Elder Days without its faults back during the First Age. That is why he is allowing the naming of the cities of Gondolin to be the same as the ones before.
Maedhros is not Maedhros from Silmarillion, no. This new version of his is a combination of Harry and the original Maedhros. What the result is basically a new being having the memories of two and their skills put with one another.
Next chapter we will be meeting the Elves of Mithlond and Grey Havens, with Cirdan the Shipwright.
