6 | A Fëanorian in Gondolin

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"Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains."

― Doom of Mandos from Quenta Silmarillion 'The Flight of the Noldor' in The Silmarillion by J.R.R Tolkien

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Location: Ondolindë, North Beleriand, Middle Earth

Time: 472 F.A

The months passed and no word from King Turgon's army was passed on to any of the guards of the gates.

Elemmírë, for her part never left her mind to it. She and Idril never did, despite that now it was Idril's responsibility to rule the city whilst her father and most of the population had gone to battle. Idril had trusted her and became one of her advisors when it came to public correlations and meetings. She aided her with the financial aspect, computing her with numbers and sizes and explaining the ways of trade to her.

The Aranel of Ondolindë was brought to rule and was quick to adjust to the position, ruling with the same wisdom Turgon had, but also the grace and strength her mother: Elenwë possessed. The Lords approved of her, proud that their king's daughter was worthy of the city.

To both Elemmírë and Idril's observation, even Maeglin behaved well...perhaps too well for their suspicions. They never spoke of it (not in public), but silently agreed that Idril's cousin was not who they seemed to be. He was close to her whenever Idril was alone or with other servants, complimenting her and speaking to her of her achievements and his own.

Elemmírë kept an eye on him, despite being amongst the head of the nólecoa and made sure Idril had space to assure herself. She would protect her friend no matter what, even it was over kin.

However, Idril's position as temporary ruler came to an end once word spoke of the Gondothlim returning from the North.

Elemmírë had waited alongside Hestondur and their household in front of their house, the Great Market had been cleared for the citizens to watch the soldiers return to their respective families. For once, she dressed in the colours of her house willingly – a silver circlet with a golden jewel at the centre as the horses galloped through.

She then saw their banner, Bar-en-Lothglor billowing in the gentle wind. When she saw the familiar figure of blonde hair amongst silver and brown, she heard Hestondur speak next to her.

He spoke, "They have returned!"

"And so very few," Elemmírë's tone was slightly bittersweet, but she quickly changed the moment her brother's eyes met hers.

He looked worn and rugged, his armour tainted in blood and dirt and black soot. But Elemmírë didn't care, as she raced up to him and allowed herself to jump into his arms. She immediately regretted it as he grunted, stumbling back a step as he caught her.

"Háno! You're alive." She gazed up at her brother, a wide grin up to him but slowly faded into a worried look.

He had changed. Not by appearance but of his fëa.

Glorfindel's eyes were tired with bags under his eyes. There were cuts on his cheeks and a bruise over his forehead. He laughed softly to her, parting away as he noted, "Still injured, however." He allowed himself to sling his arm over her shoulders as they walked toward Hestondur and their household. "Let me rest my body, nésa."

As Hestondur and the household bowed to their lord, Glorfindel was led inside with the healers whilst Elemmírë turned around only to discover Ecthelion hopping down his horse before heading to her. She knew this time to act according to her status, nodding to the Lord of the House of the Fountain before smiling kindly at him.

"Ecthelion," She greeted him, "I am glad you are safe as well. What happened?"

Like her brother, Ecthelion's face was rugged. His face hardened as he answered her, "Ingaran Findekáno is dead. Turukáno is now High King of the Noldor."

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Time: 496 F.A

Twenty-four years passed since Nirnaeth Arnoediad. [1]

So very few returned amongst the Host of Turgon and the feelings of war and Angband left more than just loss. Many elves faded, those who lost their other half despite having no clue where their body lay.

Her brother, despite taking time to recover, struggled to speak of the battle. How they had gone into the fight mistaken and outnumbered. 

And in the end, they had to flee whilst those of the men of Húrin kept Turgon's host protected for them to escape. Húrin, whom Elemmírë knew for a year, was shocked and worried for the Edain. Glorfindel said that Huor had been lost and that they did not know where Húrin was. Whether he had escaped, or he was amongst the pile of dead bodies that had been stacked during the battle.

Even how horrific it sounded, Elemmírë wrote it down in the books and instructed the nólecoa to begin recording the battle in much detail.

Then came the fall of Nargothrond just last spring. King Orodreth had apparently gone into open battle against the forces of Morgoth. The orc-host led by the dragon Glaurung had destroyed the army and sacked the city, unleashing fire and burning everything in their path. Apparently, barely any escaped lest those who survived were captured and headed to Angband. [2][3]

King Orodreth was dead, as was the apparent daughter of the king: Finduilas. If she remembered her history: there was another child who lived. The child was not in Nargothrond at that time, though at least there was one last person left for the survivors to return. Whilst most fled south to the Mouths of Sirion (or what she heard), a few had come to discover their city.

A group of Noldorin elves arrived at the great gate several months ago, led by none other than the kin of Fëanor. The son of Curufin was the one to seek King Turgon, pleading asylum and those who followed him here. At first, Elemmírë was a little confused: why did this elf go up North when he surely knew Angband could easily surround them?

Even as an advisor, Turgon assured her that there was a decent reason for his nephew to come here. It was probably not worth seeking asylum in Doriath, especially with King Thingol's dislike for the Sons of Fëanor.

Elemmírë along with the Lords of Ondolindë agreed for no blood to be spilt again, not when there were so few, and allowed Tyelperinquar and his followers to live in the city. She herself didn't see the lord often, even during her time with Idril, Turgon, her house and the nólecoa he was not at her sight.

However, one midday: Elemmírë arrived at the main forge in the city. It was one of the largest where most who did their craft went and helped themselves to the resources available. As she entered the open workshop, glancing around at the works of the other elves: she discovered him at one corner of the room.

He had been too invested in what he was doing, his hands holding the tools with precision as he brought the jewel onto the space between its wings. It appeared to be an eagle, silver in colour and with a bright glimmer to it under the warm light.

After a few seconds, the elf froze, and his eyes widened to find her leaning down at the other side of the bench. He apologized as he bowed his head, "My lady, I did not see you there."

Elemmírë wryly smiled, shaking her head to assure him it was alright. "What are you making?" She asked him, "Is this for someone?"

"Yes. For Princess Itarillë." He answered.

Her brows rose, remembering the new gift King Turgon had requested for the jewel smiths to create for Idril's coming name day. The chief jewel smith, Enerdhil, tasked Celebrimbor to design and complete the commission for his cousin.

With a genuine smile, she complimented: "It is divine." Elemmírë also added with a light tone, "I see Anardil had made you a good craftsman, Lord Tyelperinquar."

She saw his cheeks go slightly pink, before nodding his head down. "I thank you for your kind words, Lady Elemmírë." His eyes furrowed before asking her, "Though I wonder why you are here in these parts of the city?"

Oh right, there was a reason as to why she was here.

Before she sat down on the stool next to her, she rummaged through her satchel and took out a scroll of parchment.

She spoke, "I...I would like to craft something." As Elemmírë continued, she unravelled the decently sized parchment onto the free space of the workbench. There, she showed him a sketch. "I know it is not my craft for it is knowledge and maps that I dwell in. But I would like someone to aid me in my pursuit of these."

Drawn onto the surface, there were sketches of two weapons of similar sizes and shapes. A set of dual swords, curved along with the Tengwar words of her house.

As Celebrimbor stood up to go around, she allowed him to study the design. She saw his eyes wander before he solemnly said, "Sword making is a hard feat, my lady." Celebrimbor questioned, "Are you sure? Perhaps I might be able to make it for you instead?"

There she paused. In a way, she was surprised at how accepting he was for even suggesting it. Commissions from high-ranking craftsmen were rare and only accepted by those of high status. And even for the sister of a lord of the main houses, it would be uncommon to have someone willing to make her anything.

As she studied Celebrimbor's face, she investigated his mind subtly: only to see nothing but respect and intrigue in them. He was not the person she envisioned the kin of Fëanor to be. Perhaps he did not associate with his father anymore?

In the end, Elemmírë shook her head and firmly said, "No." She explained to him, "I think if I wanted to create a weapon for myself, I would like to know it was made for my hands. If you teach me, I am willing to listen and learn from what you tell me."

It was Celebrimbor's time to act surprised, and he quickly changed his demeanour as he carefully rolled the parchment and passed it to her. He nodded slowly, "If you wish of it, my lady." He told her, "We could start tomorrow at dawn."

Elemmírë kindly smiled, seeing his own – faint but there, nonetheless. He explained to her that she would have to start from the beginning, as an acolyte in elven smithing. She told him that since she was a senior loremaster, she was more flexible with her studies and time at the nólecoa and told him she would be prepared for the next day.

After that, Celebrimbor returned to his work. She did not notice then, but the Noldor elf's cheeks remained pink even after she left.

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There was one person she had been eager to meet ever since Ecthelion mentioned to her during dinner last night. She was so shocked and surprised that she didn't even bother to rest, allowing her to meet her old friend on her way to the palace for her usual evening with Idril.

She ignored the laughs both Ecthelion and Glorfindel had when Hestondur complained that she should be acting properly and not running again barefoot.

Elemmírë followed to her displeasure, putting her boots before racing down south to where he would be staying.

The steward of her friend's house informed her that he was currently up in the walls, so she thanked them for the direction and briskly sped walked to the edge of the city. When she saw his dark-grey hair gently blowing in the wind, and the familiar dulled blue tunic he dressed up in.

He noticed her heading at his side, and his sea-grey eyes lit up in surprise before his lips morphed into a grin.

Elemmírë stopped a few feet before him, exclaiming to him, "Voronwë, you're alive. I thought I heard you perished from your journey to the west."

His laughter rung like a song to her ears as Voronwë Aranwion embraced Elemmírë in a longing hug. Her old friend spoke loudly, "Neither the sea can lose me, Elemmírë. Ulmo blessed me to return to Beleriand and sought to seek the son of Huor."

She breathed, "Huor's son...no wonder why he seemed familiar." Elemmírë glanced at him with concern and continued, "I hope your journey wasn't hectic. Many have most turned away and are heading south."

They began their walk across the wall, before heading further in.

Voronwë shook his head and replied, "Not at all." He gave her a look of mischief and added, "I assume your brother would have kept you far from courtly life."

A snort left her lips as she smirked, "He can try but he has a house to run. I have an entire nólecoa to manage."

Another chuckle left his mouth as he patted her shoulder, "I think my uncle Círdan would enjoy conversing with you." Voronwë commented, "You would be a good aid in navigating the seas with your knowledge. But that is an entire wall to go over."

She let out a huff as her shoulders slumped, "Obviously...especially with my brothers." Voronwë gave her a questionable glance and she clarified, "And yes, Ecthelion practically sleeps in our guests' room nowadays so he now counts as my brother."

"I missed you, Mire. You and the hectic chaos you bring," The Mariner formed a side smile to her after their laughter died down. The entire city must be complaining of their loud voices, knowing now that both Voronwë and Elemmírë have returned.

Imagine when they have Idril alongside them: now that's going to be chaos indeed.

"Well, you and Itarillë were my only friends." She admitted, before taking a double-take and gawking back at him. "And what do you mean chaos? I am a perfect lady of the House of the Golden Flower, thank you."

Voronwë replied, "I will believe it when the trees of Laurelin and Telperion are reborn." He quickly changed the subject as he questioned slyly, "Also, Ingolmo doesn't count as one of yours? Mire...I sense more than a friend-Ow!"

He quickly recoiled as Elemmírë's hand slapped his upper arm as she called, "Not like that!" She pointed a finger at him and warned, "And if my brothers hear you mention anyone, they will not hear the end of it."

"Then be like me, love the stars such as my love of the sea," Voronwë suggested, and she even considered then that perhaps that was a good plan either way. Elemmírë had no plans in seeking an ellon, and especially in such dire times like this.

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[1] - Nirnaeth Arnoediad: Battle of Unnumbered Tears which occurred in 472 of the first age, was the bloodiest battle out of the wars of Beleriand where the Union of Maedhros disbanded, the death of Fingon and the capture of Hurin.
[2] - Glaurung: One of the foremost lieutenants of Morgoth. A dragon with four legs and fiery breath but no wings. Thank god.
[3] - Sack of Nargothrond: Occured in 495 of the first age, destroyed by Glaurung and his hordes. Death of King Orodreth and Finduilas.

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A/N: Ah sorry it's been quite a while since I've updated. So much work and the pressure of exams are stopping me from getting a lot of stuff out at the moment. But I've got some time this week to try and squeeze in some updates before I go on a small break again.

And so we meet Celebrimbor and Voronwe, both who kind of reflect on the relationships Elemmire faces. How an old friend returns while she gains a new one. She also begins to be more exposed to the world outside and the more it happens she learns the truth of what death and pain mean. 

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Edited: 23/05/2022