4 | Shot Through the Heart

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"I will not debate with you Dark Elf. By the swords of the Noldor alone are your sunless woods defended. Your freedom to wander there wild you owe to my kin and but for them long since you would have laboured in thraldom in the pits of Angband. And here I am King and whether you will it or will it not my doom is law. This choice is given to you: abide here or to die here and so also for your son."
― J.R.R. Tolkien from The Silmarillion

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In their private gardens, Glorfindel found her curled up on the bench, reading some books she found in the restricted section. She hoped that it would get her mind off what happened just a couple of hours ago, but it was all she could think about.

He sat next to her, encasing an arm over her shoulders as she sniffed away her tears.

"Nésa? Are you alright?" Her brother looked at her with concern, taking out a handkerchief from his sleeve.

Thanking him, she wiped the cloth roughly over her cheeks, placing the book down as she huffed miserably, "No. I feel so utterly bad, Fin." Elemmírë spoke quietly, "I thought I was doing something right for once but Írissë...I lost her trust."

His hand soothed her and brushed her hair as he murmured, "You were only doing what was asked of you, Mire." Glorfindel assured her, "In fact, it might aid Írissë to the light again. From what you speak, this elf is suspicious."

"He is powerful," Elemmírë admitted, leaning herself at Glorfindel's side. "He wields magic much different to mine and he almost caught me."

Glorfindel's body hardened as he murmured, "I will speak to Turukáno of this." He exhaled in stress. "I know it is your duty as one of his loremasters but if it places you in danger—"

"No! Brother it's alright." She quickly rose, waving her hands to his face. Elemmírë exasperated, raking her fingers through her hair. "It's just...I am not used to it. I've always been the one to be proficient in magic."

His face relaxed to her assurance, a sad smile resting on his face as he spoke: "I know you are. But I will only inform him that you will need someone else with you when it comes to tackling magic."

"Who?" Elemmírë questioned, "There's nobody apart from the loremasters. And nobody has the skill apart from Turukáno."

Glorfindel thought for a moment, humming to himself. "I know it might not be the right time. Though at some point, perhaps we can go to Doriath."

Elemmírë froze at her spot, her book now abandoned as she stared up at her brother.

Did she hear him right? Would he allow her to go out of Ondolindë?

But before she was hyped up, Glorfindel rose a hand and added, "I'm not implying it is certain but..." He smiled kindly at her, explaining his reason. "I believe Queen Melian might be of your assistance. She may possess the answers you've always wondered. But of course, not as of now. Perhaps once the enemy has retreated."

Her heart deflated slightly. It was understandable, especially when so many orcs have been spotted nearing the mountains. None have yet penetrated the encircling mountains, but word of the siege hasn't led them to believe of the war to succeed.

"I know neither Amil nor Atar had any indication of what I have, but why?" Elemmírë wondered, "Why do I have it?" [1]

Maybe it was another reason why she pursued knowledge and lore. She wanted to know the truth of her ingolë. The very light she possessed despite not being born when the trees were still alive. It is said in the books of their history that it was the light which gave them the light in their eyes, the beauty and strength in which all of the firstborns held. So why did she have it?

Her brother was silent, his face stoic as he pondered. "I'm not sure, nésa," Glorfindel answered, pushing a strand behind her ear. "All I know is that you were blessed with something much more. And you are much like your magic. Light at such dark times. And you are much more than you think."

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The council was brought to question again the very next day. 

King Turgon had most of the lords of the houses sat in their usual places as well as herself. Today she sat beside her brother, looking over to Idril who sat beside her father. Aredhel and Maeglin were seated on the opposite end once more, their faces filled with worry in comparison with the dead stare Turgon wore.

Elemmírë didn't know what to expect today. She and Glorfindel only hoped that the King would allow him to stay or at least give him some freedom to roam. Turgon wasn't a cruel ruler, but he was strict about the protection of his city. But his paranoia might overstep if they weren't cautious.

On the other hand, Eöl would have to be compromising. He would have to at least accept the conditions and perhaps bargain for it. But with his hatred of their people and more hatred of the predicament – it was unlikely it would be simple.

He wasn't shackled as before when he was led into the great hall, wearing his dark armour along. From this point of view, she noticed that he almost seemed serene in his face despite the uncontrolled storm in his mind. His magical aura reflected it, mixing about like uncharted waters – greater than last evening.

Two guards stood behind him in the centre of the room, each with a spear at hand and the sigil of Turgon in their clothes. Elemmírë had to wear the clothes of her house (since Hestondur insisted to show her affiliation to their house), matching her brother's green and gold robes.

The court was now in session, with Lord Galdor speaking of the information. How Eöl had followed Aredhel and Maeglin on their journey and discovered the river running underneath the mountains. He was intercepted at the gate hours later when Aredhel and Maeglin arrived, and it was only when he revealed to the guards of the great gate that he was the husband of the Aranel of Ondolindë.

Afterwards, King Turgon repeated the King's law. That had struck another chord in Eol, whose mind snapped.

Eöl refused to acknowledge the law, even saying in a cold voice: "The Noldor have no right to seize or to set bounds in a land that they left for Aman. For this land is claimed by the Teleri and only for the Teleri."

It was then Turgon asked why he believed so.

"We chose to stay behind when your kin followed across the sea," Eöl answered. "And yet you brought back war to a once peaceful land. All because of your kin."

A set of gasps from several lords erupted along with some growling or glaring at the dark elf. Not one has spoken so forward and rudely of their people, and Elemmírë has never heard of such distaste of their kind. Her first instinct was to be mad at him; her people weren't the ones who brought war to Beleriand. The only ones to blame had to be Morgoth himself, and perhaps the Fëanorians.

However, the logical part of her mind almost felt like she had to agree. From all of her extensive reading of the history of her people, the very reason they were here was to support the Fëanorians and against the Valar's wishes. Their doom led them here, and Morgoth only fled to Beleriand to hide with the Silmarils.

And that all led to Fëanor and his creation, and his refusal to give them to the Valar.

Elemmírë didn't want to think any more of that. Despite him being right, Eöl was still against a law that had protected thousands of innocent lives. The Noldor who lived here shouldn't be all blamed for the war on Angband. There were children and women who followed or were born just as they arrived here. Like herself and Voronwë. Like Ingolmo, the scribe of her house.

Turgon wasn't pleased by the retaliation of the dark elf, even pointing out that Nan Elmoth was defended by Noldor swords. He wasn't wrong, without the Feanorians in the North East, the Finarfinians in Dorthonion and Gondolin itself in the North, the forests of central Beleriand would be left undefended against Angband.

Turgon then gave Eöl a choice: abide in Gondolin or die.

Aredhel gasped beside him, grasping Turgon's arm as she whispered to her brother. Maeglin was shocked as well but stood staring at Eöl.

To Elemmírë's worry, her friend ran down the shallow steps towards Eol along with Maeglin. Aredhel looked at Eöl with a plea, whispering something into his ear. But despite the efforts, Eöl didn't comment or respond, only showing a face of disgust at the king and the lords around him.

It was Maeglin's turn, who assured his father that living with the Noldor is not as bad as he believed it to be. And even then, the dark elf only scoffed.

Elemmírë turned to her brother, who only peered silently at the ordeal. His brother, despite being silent, already chose a side in this situation. Glorfindel knew Eöl was not trusted, but he would not suggest death as a resort. Often, he would suggest imprisonment or house arrest.

Everybody was waiting for Eöl's answer. And when it came, even her own abilities didn't expect what happened next.

The dark elf looked up to the king and proclaimed, "No, I only choose death!" Eöl shouted, "Along with my son!"

Out of his robes and armour, Eöl took out a short spear. A javelin.

However, it was too soon for the guards as he aimed it toward Maeglin.

"No!" 

Aredhel screamed and ran towards his son.

At that moment, the javelin flew through the air...impaling Aredhel in her chest.

Elemmírë gasped, standing up at the same time as she screamed. 

"Írissë!"

Her brother raced for Eöl, who was fighting against the guards. 

The entire room was in chaos whilst Aredhel staggered back, falling into Maeglin's arms before pleading to be put down on the ground.

When she arrived at Aredhel's side, Idril was beside her already. Elemmírë gaped at the javelin, a red stain already growing around her white robes. Aredhel was wheezing, panting her breaths as her panic rose.

"Írissë, allow me," Elemmírë told her, her hands waving over the wound. She would be able to treat the wound enough for the healers to come.

Whilst she began to use her magic to stop the blood flowing out and clotting, Aredhel's voice began to strain. 

"Itarillë, Elemmírë...please spare Eöl." Aredhel pleaded, her hands clasping Idril's. "He...please...you can lock him in a cell. Just please..."

Elemmírë closed her eyes, focusing her magic on Aredhel's body and detecting where the wound was. Though once she connected her fëa to hers, Elemmírë noticed something. Her heart grew cold before pulling out.

"Mire?"

Turning her head to Idril after opening her eyes, Elemmírë gulped. 

"It is poison," She told them. "The javelin had poison."

Idril drew a gasp, tears beginning to spill from her eyes as she whispered assurances to Aredhel. Elemmírë continued all she could to stabilize Aredhel's fëa. Her body was dying, and it won't be enough to sustain her – healers or not.

Maeglin knelt on the other side of Aredhel, his hands holding her head as he spoke, "Mother, please stay awake."

A tender smile lingered over Aredhel's lips. "I love you, my son." She whispered, staring over at him before turning to her side. "Idril, please do so. Spare him. Persuade your father to spare him..."

Elemmírë then finally felt her magic finally lose Aredhel's fëa, sensing it slip from her body as it then disappeared into the unknown. Her heart sank as she felt dead under the weight of her own body.

Aredhel of Ondolindë was gone.

Shaking, Maeglin stood up and glared at his father. "You...you tried to kill me!"

Eöl snarled at Maeglin, "I would rather not have one of my kind to be with these petty Noldor!" His head then spun to Elemmírë as he added, "Especially with that running around!"

Everyone's heads turned to her.

For a moment, there was a connection between her and the dark elf. She could sense him and everything. The hatred in his mind when he looked at her. But why? How did he know and what did he truly mean?

Slowly, she stood up and began to walk over to him. A figure stopped her halfway, the familiar face pulling out a hand in front of her.

Ecthelion warned her, grabbing her hand. "Elemmírë, stop."

Of course, she did not need to get any closer as she felt her mind entwine with Eöl's.

'How do you know what I have?' Elemmírë asked, her voice more demanding than she intended.

Eöl's face contorted to a sneer as he answered in a disgusted tone, 'The Maia spoke of an elf hidden within sight of the dark Vala. She was right.' He scoffed. 'You think you are safe in these walls of your precious city? You are mistaken. He will find you and you will not be able to run from his madness.'

Just as Elemmírë took a step back in surprise, Turgon had intervened in their mental conversation. 'That is enough.' His voice echoed in her head like a bell. 'Get out of her head right now.'

Eöl laughed, 'And you...your city will fall. No matter how you deny the safety of your people.'

The mental link cracked, and Elemmírë felt a pang in her head as she stumbled back into Ecthelion – a hand on her forehead. When she gazed up to Eöl, all she could see was the smirk on his lips as he was led away cursing the fate of not only Ondolindë but on his son.

It would be the very day Elemmírë had experienced death for the first time in this city. The city she had thought was safe.

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[27] - Amil/Atar: Mother/Father in Quenya.

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A/N: Apologies again for the late update. I promised for it to go back to normal but I've just been so busy and I haven't had time at all to get through so much.

Anyhow, as we are following canon, I am sad to say that Aredhel is gone. :( This bit always does hurt, especially when Aredhel could have been such a good mother to Maeglin...and perhaps things may have gone differently. But you can tell though that the childhood trauma is already placed in Maeglin after what just happened.

But what about Elemmire? How does Eol know about her? 

Well...it's a big mystery ;) You'll have to read Changing of the Song for that.

Also, it's a double update again today as well so do look for that. :)

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Edited: 01/05/2022