Maeglin grew into an elf just short of seven feet in height, and he had what seemed to be supernatural strength after years in the forge working with metals and heavy tools. He was broad shouldered and barrel-chested, and unlike his father did not develop a stoop in his posture. His hair grew long, rippled and dark like his mothers. His eyes remained blue, but Eöl no longer complained of it. He learned to master his anger and won over the Dwarves and the small folk of Nan Elmoth alike as the charisma he had shown as a child increased. Along with metal working, his mother taught him woodcraft and the thrill of the hunt.
Aredhel was changing as well. She was slowly but surely becoming bolder, more like herself before she wed Eöl. She laughed loudly and often as she took up the raiment of the Huntress and rode through the woods once more in the sunshine. In fact, it was beginning to bother Eöl and he told his son so.
“It is not proper of a wife of the Teleri. The sunlight drives living creatures into madness. I fear I have allowed her to bask in it too long unchecked. I should command her not to do it.”
“Mother is more than a Lady,” Maeglin reminded him. “She was a princess and it was you that allowed everyone into the sunlight again in the first place”
After their talk in the forge, Eöl passed an edict that no one in Nan Elmoth was to walk in sunlight anymore. Those that broke the statute could be fined. Aredhel was angered, but she was not the only one. Many of his folk had grown to love the light and fled the forests and his rule, cursing him for a tyrant and a fool. Those that would not leave their homes complained of the yoke, but Eöl would not relent.
As Maeglin had matured, his ambition had grown. It seemed to him that his father had taught him all that he could teach, even his precious secret of how to make galvorn and the Dwarves kept secrets still that they would never reveal to the kin of Elves. They mistrusted even the Dark Elf himself. They were such a stunted, suspicious race. He also knew now that his father was not the mighty lord he fancied himself. He had only the little land of Nan Elmoth with his handful of servants and no tributaries. No such thing as an army existed. The only reason he had a title at all was because he was distantly related to King Thingol and hoarded such treasures that he gained mining. Outside of Nan Elmoth, he was little more than a rogue. Even Thingol’s folk laughed at him in their cups. Did Maeglin really want such a meager inheritance?
It was strange. He had worked so hard to live up to his father’s high expectations, and now he found he exceeded Eöl in many things. He was taller, his sight was sharper, he was fairer of face. He spoke less, but when he did, he had a powerful voice that overthrew those that withstood him. And above all, Maeglin had royal blood in his veins, a fact Eöl foolishly had never exploited because of his irrational hatred towards the Noldor. Maeglin remembered his mother’s tales of the kingdom of Gondolin where she came from. There was a king but no queen to give him more heirs. His only child was Idril, a girl child. If he were to only seek out Gondolin and his uncle, he could become a mighty prince of the Noldor. If his uncle saw him fit for kingship, he might even become King of Gondolin!
He became obsessed with this idea. He began to dream of the city again. Maeglin decided to broach the subject with his father the next day in the forge. How could Eöl refuse? Maeglin was a full grown Elf in his own right, no prisoner.
“Father,” he began. “I wish to leave Nan Elmoth and not to Belegost or Nagrod. I am done with the Dwarf-cities.”
“Where then would you go?” his father asked, hammering away.
“I wish to meet some of my kin.”
Eöl smiled. “Doriath is guarded by Melian’s Girdle. You cannot enter save with special permission from Thingol. If we send word to him, he might agree to accept you for a visit. When did you plan to do so?”
“I do not wish to seek the Teleri. I speak of mother’s kin.”
Eöl’s smile vanished. His grip on the hammer loosened at these words, and he smashed his thumb instead of the forge. He cast it aside, wincing in pain only for a moment. Then he turned to his son.
“What did you say?”
“I wish to see my mother’s kin,” Maeglin repeated. “The Sons of Fëanor, or better yet Fingon or Turgon.”
Eöl paused and said slowly, “You are of the house of Eöl, my son. Of the Teleri, and not of the Golodrim. All of this land is the land of the Teleri, and I will not deal nor have my son deal with the slayers of our kin the invaders and usurpers of our homes. In this you will obey me or I will set you in bonds.”
Maeglin was taken aback by that threat. He pressed his mother for tales, listening especially for details about how to find it, hoping she would reveal where Turgon and the kingdom was located. But she guarded the secret well. She had made a sacred vow long ago that she would reveal the city to no one that was not born there already. Maeglin tried to wheedle it from her mind, but she could endure his glance and perceived his own though.
“I cannot tell you where Gondolin lies,” she cried at last after he had been staring at her for a long spell.
“Then tell me where I may find the Sons of Fëanor. Is it true that they dwell far from us here?”
“It is,” she answered. “But, Lómion, they are not Golodrim as you and I. They are Noldoli, but of the wrong branch in the family tree. They would not know.”
“At least I shall have the chance to speak with some of my own kin at last.”
“Perhaps, but it can never be. Your father will not allow me to contact my family, why would he permit you to do so?”
It so happened that Eöl was walking past the room and heard the last snatches of their conversation. He burst in, saying, “So your mother put you up to this talk of finding the Noldor? I should have known her influence would eventually damage you beyond repair!”
He lunged at Aredhel, but Maeglin sprang before her. No doubt Eöl planned to beat Aredhel, whether she was innocent or not. Eöl stopped just short of him. Instead of trembling in fear, Aredhel wore a smile on her face.
“Step aside, son,” Eöl said. “Aredhel and I need to talk.”
But Maeglin was cold and silent and stood protectively over his mother. Maeglin was as strong as his father. Maeglin might prove the stronger if it came down between his wrath and Maeglin’s love and desperation to protect Aredhel.
Thus began the quarrels between father and son. Maeglin refused to walk abroad with him anymore. He would work in the forge alone, and Eöl mistrusted him. Aredhel became distant from her husband as well. He had forgotten his promise, and all the tender feelings she had ever had for him vanished. She and Maeglin remained in the house at Nan Elmoth while Eöl left for the Dwarf cities.
The servants came to Maeglin one day, reporting that wolves had been slaughtering the livestock on the outskirts of the forest. They asked him to hunt down some of the beasts as lord while Eöl was gone. Maeglin patrolled the wood, but he found no sign of wolves. He asked the small folk if they had seen wolves or lost their sheep lately. To his surprise, none had. In fact, none of the livestock had gone missing. There was no wolf. The servants had merely sent him on a long goose chase.
He returned to the house with mud on his boots and rain dripping from his cloak and hair. He looked forward to a hot meal and entered the dining room to find Eöl sitting at the table and dining alone. Maeglin’s heart sank.
“You!” he said. “We were not expecting you for three days more!”
His father made no reply.
“Where is my mother?”
Again, Eöl did not answer. He finished the last bites of his meal, wiped his mouth on a napkin, and left. Maeglin searched the house, calling for Aredhel. She was gone. He cursed and summoned the servants and seized Culnamo and shook him.
“You told me that he would not return until Litha!”
“That is what we thought, my lord!”
“And where is Aredhel?”
He hesitated until Maeglin struck him, “She is not here. Eöl took her into the forest.”
“You will help me find her. Now!”
Culnamo knew exactly where she was. He led Maeglin deep into Nan Elmoth. Eöl had dragged her from the house, tied her to a tree, and beaten her within an inch of her life. She was a trembling, forlorn creature. Her white raiment was stained with blood and drenched from the rain. Maeglin put a hand over his mouth in horror at the sight.
“Oh, mother,” he moaned. “No…”
She looked up at him, the light in her eyes dimmed. He stooped and cut the ropes. She fell into his arms, limp and weak. He tried to comfort her, but she was not crying. She made no sound or sign.
“Mother, please say something. Please.”
Her voice was strained, but she managed the words, “He should have killed me.”
She slipped out of consciousness. She had fought Eöl. There were signs of struggle everywhere. But there were many footprints where there should have been only two sets. There were four meaning that two servants must have held Aredhel down as Eöl struck her and aided in bringing her here and then bound her because it was such a cumbersome task. They had then fabricated a tale to stop Maeglin from being there to defend her. Culnamo had been one of them, but the entire household had been involved, either directly or indirectly at one point. Maeglin wanted to kill them all then and there and almost reached to start with Culnamo, but then who would care for his mother? He ordered them to carry her back to the house and treat her wounds. He wanted to deal with his father first.
“Where did Eöl go?” he demanded.
“He has left Nan Elmoth by now.”
“What?”
“The people of Belegost hold a banquet at one time during the year. You know that. But this year they are marking the anniversary of the city’s founding. They invited Eöl, as is their custom, to attend. He only stopped here for a few hours to fetch the proper attire and some new tools.”
“Then see to your Mistress!” Maeglin roared. “No good guileful canker-blossoms!”
When the servants told him that they could do no more for Aredhel, Maeglin took them one-by-one into the forest, hiding a knife inside of his shirt and he slaughtered them all. He did not even spare Tara.
When it was done, Maeglin returned to his mother’s side and took her hand in his. All there was left was to wait for her to regain consciousness. She moaned as she slept and sometimes cried out a name. After listening carefully, Maaglin interpreted the name Engner. He had never heard that name before, but he took it as a good sign that she was stirring. She opened her eyes, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Lómion? I am glad it is you.”
“I should have been there,” he said. “Forgive me. Eöl would have never dared hurt you if I had only been there.”
“You cannot be at my side twenty four hours, not since you were in the womb. It would have happened sooner or later. There was little noise, for I did not wail. After he had hit me several times, I felt no pain. I felt nothing. I did not swoon until after. I witnessed it all. After the ringing in my ears stopped I heard nothing either. It was strange. The feeling of no feeling. It was as though I were dreaming or watching it all happen to someone else. But I did see colors. I shall never see such colors again. Indigo and black, deep shades of crimson, and blinding flashes of white. Then once Eöl became exhausted, they left me there to bleed. It is miraculous no beasts found me first, the scent of blood must have been strong enough to carry for miles. I wonder if I would have felt their teeth…”
“Please do not tell me that he has numbed you!”
“He had not struck me since you were young. He kept his promise until now. I thought he was going to kill me,” her voice was frail. “If you were not here for me, Eöl might have killed me long ago. I must get some sleep, true sleep. Lómion, my son. My son.”
She closed her eyes and slept a long while. Maeglin did his best to nurse her back to health. When she awoke, she asked after the servants. She thought it strange that they were all gone. The house was usually a silent one, but this silence was unnerving. It was never so empty. There was always at least one servant in the shadows to sniff out their secrets.
“I sent the servants away,” Maeglin answered simply.
“Sent them away? You mean you banished them?”
“In a way. They will never betray us again. Do not think about them.”
Something was terribly wrong. Maeglin was not telling her all that he could, she could sense it. Also, he wore a smile on his face, one that she recognized all too well and hated seeing on her son. It was the same sort of predatory grin his father sported often. She would not ask him anymore, she did not want to know what her son had done. She had never liked or trusted any one of her servants. They were never her own to begin with. They served their master and him alone in all things, even if he commanded them to beat his own wife and their own mistress. Tara had never done such things. Some of the servants had at least questioned Eöl’s orders. They did so at their own risk of course. If Eöl had harsh punishments for his wife, they were nothing compared to the abuse suffered by his servants. There were times she even pitied them.
“We will need help in maintaining this house, Lómion. I cannot do it alone.”
“Not to worry, mother. I shall begin recruiting new servants soon. They will be to our liking and not Eöl’s pawns.
“And what of Eöl?” there was contempt in her voice. “Where is he?”
“He has gone to Belegost, fleeing like a coward before I could avenge you. Are you feeling stronger?”
“My body is healing, but I am crushed in heart and spirit.”
Maeglin was saddened by this, but he said,” I know what you need. You should come with me now. A glimpse of the sun may work a miracle upon you.”
He took her hand and helped her walk outside. He raised her upon her horse and they sought the sunlight, passing through their old grove first. Unfortunately, the forest had robbed them of the once sacred place. A tall tree had grown in the place of the old, repairing the roof of leaves and again veiling the sunlight. The flowers were dead and only rotted leaves remained now. They found the eaves of the forest where the trees ended and the grasses greeted them. The only roof here was the sky.
Aredhel seemed to brighten at once. She took a deep breath as though she had forgotten what fresh air was like. The forest of Nan Elmoth was strange, even stifling the air. The warm sun on her face was like an old friend. She basked in her rays, tears rimming her eyes that she stubbornly blinked away. Meaglin’s heart grew hot with desire to leave Nan Elmoth forever. He had long planned their escape, and now the time was ripe. There was nothing that could prevent them from doing so.
“Lady,” he said to his mother. “Why must we remain here any longer? What hope is there in this wood for you or for me? Here we are held in bondage. I shall gain no profit here, for I have learned all that my father has to teach. Let us depart while there is time! You pine for Gondolin, and there I belong. We shall seek the city and shall as last be free! If we delay any longer, the lord of Nan Elmoth shall return. He will set us both in fetters. I refuse to let that happen. You shall be my guide and I shall be your guard!”
Then Aredhel looked with pride upon her son, the only thing that she had ever loved in Nan Elmoth and smiled. It was not the first time that he had asked her this. He was not a babe any longer, but full grown. If there was any gift Aredhel had received from her husband that she was grateful for, it was her son. She reached out and kissed his brow.
“We should have done this years ago. Forgive me that I was such a fool. Let us leave this place, it twists souls.”
“I shall gather our things and throw Eöl off of our trail should he return.”
Meaglin had never felt happier. At last, his mother had come to her senses. He returned to the house, passing by the festering corpses of the servants he had murdered. He kicked the nearest one.
“Hi! One of you get off your lazy ass and fetch the Lady’s things!” he laughed. Then he entered the house and packed traveling gear, all the essentials that they might need on their journey, but not so much that it would slow them down. He took whatever coinage he could find. He also took a certain sword from Eöl’s armory, Anguriel. It was easily the most valuable thing he owned. Meaglin had always admired it as a boy, and now it hung at his baldric. It was a unique blade made from a strange metal that fell from the sky and cut through all earthly matter. He had not forged Anguriel, of course. Eöl had taken it from King Thingol’s hoard when he left Doriath. He had been sending blades and armor to Menegroth since then in payment since he had never asked permission to take Anguriel in the first place. Only one other blade was made from the same metal, and that was the dagger Angrist that Celegorm wielded and that Beren used to cut a Silmaril from Morgoth’s crown. Stealing the sword would add insult to injury.
“Now to leave my legacy to my father,” he said. He brought in the servants’ corpses one by one. It was a grisly task, but he sat them in chairs at the dining table and made the scene look like a welcome party. Only one task remained, he wished to leave a note, but he could not find any ink anywhere. It was not often that letters were written in their household. Most messages were exchanged through travelers and word of mouth. Eöl was so secretive he hated to write anything down, and he always feared Aredhel would smuggle letters to her kin. Finally he took some blood from Culnamo. The blood gave his words an unnatural color.
He returned to his mother. She chided him gently for taking so long. If he had not dismissed all of their servants his trip would have taken minutes rather than hours. They had wasted precious sunlight. Then she recognized Anguriel.
“Must you take that?” she asked.
“Why not? It was to pass to me someday. I just decided to claim it early is all.”
“It is not yours,” she answered. “It was not Eöl’s either.”
“How many blades is it worth? Eöl must have sent a sword every year-”
“It is priceless. If you sent a hundred blades a year it would still not compare. I would rather you not repeat your father’s mistake-”
“My father and I are nothing alike!” Mglin burst. “When we return to Gondolin where we belong I will be a prince in truth. Does a prince not deserve such a fine blade?”
Aredhel frowned but did not argue further. Anguriel was a thing of beauty, but she always had an uneasy feeling when she held it.
“Let us go.”
Eöl returned out of the east much sooner than Maeglin had foreseen. As before, guilt had begun to gnaw at him. He had beaten Aredhel more severely than he ever had. For a moment he thought he had truly killed her and fled. He grabbed a quick meal, and when Meaglin had entered and the color drained from his face, Eöl felt even more ashamed and afraid. Afraid at what his son would do if he found his mother dead in the woods. He was not sure how he would approach him. He was almost certain Aredhel was not dead. She was still breathing, he knew that now.
He called to his servants, but no one answered. He had not expected his wife and son to greet him, but his servants were never so lax. After shouting for them several times, he searched the rooms for any living persons. Instead he found it empty. He searched his own chambers first and found to his horror that all of his money was gone. Even his sword was gone. For a moment he thought he had been robbed by raiders. Orcs feared the wood of Nan Elmoth and never entered it. Even so few could sustain a living in the sunless place and if they managed they barely did so. Perhaps the Orcs had been emboldened or a company of evil Men came through. That made more sense, the place was not entirely ransacked. Perhaps they had taken his wife and son and all of the others. He searched even more frantically for another soul. It was only when he searched the dining room that he found anyone.
His entire household sat around the table. His favorite foods were laid out before him but was spoiled and rotting. Their cold hands were fastened around silverware and cups. Their mouths were opened as though to laugh, but they had no doubt been screaming before death relieved them. Their clothes were slashed and bloodied, hair disheveled and dirty from the earth. Even Eöl felt his stomach clench. He considered most of his servants to be nothing more than hired hands, but Culnamo was one of the few people he had ever trusted, and Tara and some of the other maids had been with him for ages. They fed him, clothed him, saw to his every need before Aredhel. They were the only friends or family he had ever known.
There was an empty seat for him. On the seat was a note in Maeglin’s hand. His horror turned to anger immediately. If this was truly his son’s work… He began to read, his anger rising.
Father,
We have gone and left you alone without your riches or your scheming servants. We shall not be returning, and no amount of begging for forgiveness will redeem you this time. You have hurt my mother for the last time. By the time you have read this, we shall be safe with Celegorm and Curufin. Pursue us if you must, but you shall not receive kind words or good cheer from them or from me. Part of me hopes that you will find us. Why, you ask? Because should we meet again, I would not hesitate to kill you without remorse or hesitation. Farewell.
Eöl tore the letter to shreds. He decided not to heed the warning and gathered all the possessions he had left. Then he fetched his horse and pursued his wife and son into Celegorm and Curufin’s lands. Eöl’s mingled wrath and grief did not make him reckless. He rode warily, for he knew Celegorm and Curufin loved him not at all.
Despite his precautions, the servants of Curufin were aware of him. They ambushed him and forced his back upon the ground. One among them pointed a spear inches from his breast.
“Was that really necessary?” Eöl rasped.
“You are a trespasser, friend,” the spear man replied, his tone dripping with disdain. “And you are one of alien race, yet I recognize your face. Eöl the Dark Elf, unfriend of his own kind. What brought you out of your seclusion?”
“I have an urgent errand,” was all that he would say.
“When a trespasser does not cooperate, he must be brought before the lord of the land. Come on then!”
They pulled him to his feet roughly and brought him before Curufin. Celegorm had departed once more. Curufin was of perilous mood, and when he saw Eöl he scoffed.
“What have we here?” he said mockingly. “An oversized Orc?”
“A Teleri Lord.”
“Lord,” his frown showed what he thought of that. “Why have you come to me with this beggar?”
“He was found wandering about your lands and would only say that he had an urgent errand.”
“Ah, I see. And what errand have you, Dark Elf, in my lands? An urgent matter indeed it must be to keep one so sun shy abroad by the light of day.”
Eöl thought of a thousand insults to say in return, but he bridled his tongue. He knew he was on think ice. The Sons of Feanor were the last people in Beleriand he wanted to provoke. They had bent many to their will and were very powerful.
“Tell me now why you are here, Eöl! Be quick, for I have many duties to attend to. I do not wish to tend to them and return to find you here!”
“I have learned that my wife, the White Lady of Gondolin and my son have ridden to visit you while I was away from home. It seemed fitting that I should join them.”
Curufin looked amazed for a moment and then laughed. “They might have found their welcome less warm than they hoped if you had come with them!”
“Then they are here?”
“No! But it was only two days ago that my scouts reported a maiden and her male companion passing over the Arassiach. They were riding westwards. It seems that you are trying to deceive me unless you yourself have been deceived.”
Eöl was silent for a moment and then a light come upon him. He knew in his heart that Aredhel and Maeglin were seeking Gondolin. If they should reach the Hidden City, he could never reclaim them. They had tricked him into pursuing a false lead. He was hot with humiliation.
“Lord,” Eöl rose to his feet. “perhaps you will give me leave to go and discover the truth of these matters.”
“I knew the truth as well as you do. You have my leave but not my love. The sooner you leave the better will it please me.”
“It is good, Lord Curufin, to find a kinsman so kind at need. I will remember it when I return.”
But Curufin looked darkly at him. “Do not against flaunt the title of your wife before me. Those that steal the daughters of the Noldor and wed them without gift or leave do not gain kinship with her kin. Aredhel dwelt here before she was lost, and Celegorm and I were very distressed when she disappeared. Now I know why it happened, and I will remember it when you return!”
Eöl dropped his manner and demanded, “What are you trying to accuse me of?”
“I gave you my leave to go,”Curufin retorted. “Take it before I change my mind. By the laws of the Eldar I cannot slay you. When have the laws ever truly protected us? Even so, if I knew I could get away with it, I would put you in a hole and leave you there for centuries until you had driven yourself mad wondering exactly what was crawling around with you in your cell!”
Eöl was speechless. The servants cleared a path for him, glaring. He turned to depart and Curufin spoke suddenly.
“A word of counsel, not that you deserve it. Return to the shadows of Nan Elmoth where you belong. If you continue to pursue those that love you no more, you shall never see your home again.”
Eöl stormed out of the halls, mounted his horse, and spurred forward with all the speed the animal could muster. Because of his humiliation, his hate for the Noldor had only increased. He also knew he was not far behind his wife and son now. He could easily overtake them. He used all his woodcraft to track them, but he found himself in the Brithiach by pure guesswork.
At last he caught sight of Aredhel’s white raiment from afar, and their horses betrayed them by stamping and whinnying in the dark. They traveled without rest, for now they were near Gondolin, but they were not fast enough. Aredhel was pushing herself too much. Maeglin tried to stop her and demand that they rest. She was not yet fully healed. She stubbornly refused. Her condition slowed them already, and she was eager to return home. Eager for the faces of her brother and niece, for Ecthelion and Glorfindel, for Engner, if he still lived.
The Way was blocked by six gates, ceaselessly guarded. When Meaglin and Aredhel paused at the first gate, Eöl would have seized her then, but the guard spotted them first and cried aloud. They recognized Aredhel and abandoned their posts to greet her. Eöl was forced to conceal himself.
“It is the White Lady! She has finally returned!”
“Elemmakil?”
She was swept into a dozen hugs. One very bold guard took her by the shoulders and pulled her into a passionate kiss.
“Pardon me, Lady,” he said. “I just needed to be sure that you were real.”
He pulled away his helm and was revealed.
“Engner!” she returned his kiss and burst into joyful tears.
As they kissed, the others looked doubtfully at Maeglin.
“Who is your escort?” they asked.
Aredhel paused and pulled away from Engner before she answered, “He is my son.”
Engner led Aredhel through the Dark Gate and they entered the ravines. The others remained at the Gate, though they saluted to Aredhel and gave a curtsey to Maeglin. No one noted Eöl as he slipped in through the outer gate. But he could go no further than that. Engner had already led them past the Second Gate, the Gate of Stone. They went in silence for a long while. Aredhel hid her eyes as Maeglin marveled at his surroundings.
“Here we shall allow you to rest and take a meal,” Engner said. “We have already sent word to Turgon.”
Her face brightened at the mention of her brother. They were led to a chamber and Engner brought in food and wine.
“White for you, Aredhel?” he said with a smile.
“No. I drink red these days.”
Engner withheld the wine and drew himself a chair. Maeglin sensed that the two needed to be alone and decided to dine in another room. Engner and Aredhel were left alone.
“Your son,” Engner said at last. “He is very handsome. What is his name?”
“Maeglin. Well, that is what Eöl calls him. I call him Lomion.”
“And was it this Eöl that bruised your face?”
Aredhel turned her face away in shame. Engner reached out and touched her cheek.
“I was out walking and became lost in Nan Elmoth. I found my way to his house. He gave me food and shelter, but he demanded something of me in return.”
“I searched for you until I came to the forest. That place is cursed."He slammed his fist upon the table.
“That bastard lied to me! He was hiding you all along. I searched Nan Elmoth and he bid me do it, but I never thought to search his house or his bed for that matter. If only I had. I was closer than I ever realized. I could have rescued you then and there. I was such a frantic fool. I am so sorry, Aredhel.”
“You did search for me,” she smiled. “I thought that you would. I never knew you found the way to the house. Nan Elmoth was ever under Eöl’s control, it is quite a feat. He never told me that you had visited. I must have been locked away in the house at the time, far from any windows, else I would broken through it to join you. His whole household could not have held me back. But even if you had found me, Engner, it would have done no good. By then I was married and my son conceived. By law-”
“The law is supposed to protect us not entrap us! And the laws of marriage are deemed sacred. Eöl perverts it. He has no true claim to you.”
“I said the vows willingly, Engner. No evil was done in the eyes of the Valar. Eöl calculated it all so well.”
“No, Aredhel. You did nothing wrong. You are not his property. If ever he had any right to you they are forfeit. You are home now.”
He tried to take her hand and she pulled away as though his touch burned her.
“Have you been so mishandled, Lady? Has Eöl mad you bitter even towards me?”
“Never against you!” she threw her arms about him and he held her, their tears mingling. “I used to dream of you rescuing me. Every time I kissed Eöl, I pretended he was you. Every time I held his child, I wished he was yours. I sinned against you and took my home for ganted. I was punished justly.”
“No! Look at me, Aredhel. You are blameless! You did not deserve what happened. You were once a Huntress who vowed never to be dominated by anyone! Eöl will pay for what he has done to your spirit!”
“Hopefully I will never have to see him again.”
“I never stopped loving you.”
“Neither did I.”
“I will wed you,” the words poured out of him. “It would be a proper marriage. I am no longer a humble tracker, you see. When Glorfindel and Ecthelion told him of what I had done to save you in Nan Dungortheb, Turgon made me a lord.”
She smiled, “I loved you when you were no more than a knave.”
Part of her wanted to say yes, but she remembered that Maeglin was in the next room. He was no longer a child and clearly hated Eöl, but she was not certain what he would think of a new father. She was still married, and a divorce was unheard of. It was an option she could pursue and would. If that were not scandalous enough, remarriage would be even more delicate. She must not be hasty.
“Engner,” she chose her words carefully. “I will need some time.”
He nodded in understanding. “Of course. I can wait as long as you need.”
She kissed him. Just because she was not prepared to wed him, it did not mean she would supress her affection. She would not deny herself and leave him with no hope in his heart.
“Take me to my brother.”
Maeglin joined them as they journeyed to a wall yet higher and stronger than the last. In it was set the Third Gate, the Gate of Bronze. Above its lintel were three square towers roofed with copper. The guards wore mail of bright scarlet. Beyond it was a toilsome road and the Fourch Gate, Gate of Iron. There were now four towers of iron engraved with the image of an eagle.
“How many gates are there?” Maeglin asked in astonishment as well as a hint of impatience. He was anxious to meet King Turgon and his cousin Idril.
“There at six at present,” Engner answered. “We intend to add more in the future. The days grow darker and the gates and high walls ensure our advantage in battle. Only a dragon could scale the walls and the gates themselves become stronger as we come closer to the inner city.”
“Gondolin is indeed great if there is a need for so many gates. I trust that the next two shall be silver and gold?”
Engner laughed merrily. “You shall see!”
The road climbed up until they passed the crown of the Echoriath mountains. The towers fell toward the inner hills. The ravine was tipped with snow and the guards wore black. They guarded the gate of Silver whose wall was made of white marble and the gate graven with the likeness of the moon. On parapets on the low wall were countless archers in silver. The last Gate was like the Silver, only the marble was yellow and the gate graven with the sun.
“As I thought!” Maeglin said triumphantly. “I am exhausted! I cannot imagine marching an army through all those gates with archers raining arrows up and over mountains! No wonder the Enemy fears Gondolin.”
“I pray that reputation alone keeps us safe.”
As they walked, Maeglin and Engner had measured each other. Maeglin sensed he was likely of humble background and status. He was of smaller build and stature, but he seemed gentler and less moody than Eöl. He gladly explained Gondolin’s layout and dynamics and answered Maeglin’s questions, but he could not keep his eyes away from Aredhel for very long. Overall, Engner did not seem very extraordinary, but if Aredhel loved him, he must be. He decided he liked the young lord.
Engner did not know what to make of Maeglin. He was fair of face, but his muscles were much broader than most Eldar. He thought it unnatural. He was very interested in Gondolin but was silent upon all other subjects. He listened rather than spoke. He was civil, but not friendly, and he sensed he was one with many dark secrets. He wondered how much of the father was in Maeglin.
Sunlight fell upon the road when at last they came to the wide entrance to the Orflach Echor. There were no walls here but two mighty towers. The travelers went up the white steps of Gondolin and to the place of the Fountain. Aredhel paused for a moment to look into the waters. Maeglin pulled up beside her.
“You love him, that is plain,” he whispered. “Know this: I want you to be happy. If he makes you happy, you belong together. For you, I would even call him father.”
She felt instant relief and warmth at these words. Her son’s approval meant so much to her. She beamed with happiness. The sunlight on the water was beautiful, even more so than she remembered. She drank from the fountain, tasting again the cold, fresh waters of Gondolin. The air was not choked by dense forest and whole families were bustling about. She felt she would never be alone again. Since Maeglin had lifted a burden from her, she turned and gave Engner an open mouth kiss, no longer caring who it was that saw. She knew she would never weep or want for anything again. She felt a return not only to her home and kin, but to the young Aredhel that was strong and did not balk for anyone or anything.
“I am home!” she cried, causing a few stares. The couple laughed. At least when she saw her brother and niece, she would be somewhat of herself again. They entered the king’s tower which was located on a pillared arcade. There, the king awaited them.
Turgon was one of the mightiest of the kings of the Eldar and was among the last. He was tall and darkhaired, but his eyes were blue. He wore a gold sword at his side, its handle was made of ivory and inlaid with scarlet. He was also one of the most lighthearted of kings and sprang to greet Aredhel, forgetting all formalities.
Beside the king, calm and resolute, was a rare beauty indeed. She was Idril Celebrindal, the same girl that had begged her auntie not to go. She was no mere girl now, but an Elf-maid tall and slender. She was golden as the Vanyar, her mother’s kin. Her hair was parted into seven braids like seven rivers of light. Though she was a king’s daughter, she wore no ornament or crown. She did not even wear shoes. By such garb one might think she were a serving girl. Her beauty was overwhelming. She wore white after the fashion of Aredhel when she had been the White Lady of Gondolin. Idril had taken her place in her absence. She seemed to be the source from which the halls drew all its light.
“Welcome!” she greeted Maeglin warmly in Quenya, and her voice was soft and resonant.
“Thank you and well met,” he replied with perfect diction. He was grateful Aredhel had taught him the language fluently, though it had caused her much pain. “I am Lómion, son of Aredhel.”
“Here you shall find peace and rest from all your cares. I am Idril Celebrindal, your kinswoman.”
He had thought she was merely an attendant until she named herself. As a youngster he had memorized her features from her portrait. He should have recognized the gray eyes at least, but many years had passed. Her babyish roundness was gone and when he learned her true identity he was humiliated and bitterly disappointed. Having seen some Golodrim in passing, Maeglin knew now that yellow hair was not uique only to Idril, but no one else had the same luster. He found himself wishing that they were not cousins. The Eldar did not wed so close of kin, nor had any desired to do so. She had grown much since her potrait was taken. He had always thought she looked pretty, but now she had grown into one of the loveliest maids. He raked the curves of her body with his eyes.
As though she knew of his thoughts, she turned and gave him a searching gaze. Her piercing gray eyes could read many hearts. When her eyes met his, he gladly held them, but he guarded his mind. He was not named Maeglin for nothing. He attempted to read her. He smiled and Idril privately became alarmed. They had each found a match. Neither could read the other without their knowledge. She must now guard herself and did so immediately. She was a private person and revealed herself to no one even if they were blood kin.
“Happily do I greet you at last, cousin. I have dreamed of coming here since I was a boy.”
“And now that you have seen Gondolin, does she meet your expectations?”
“It has surpassed my wildest imaginings, my lady.”
He kissed her cheek and then the other in formal greeting. Idril bowed her head in reverance, but her eyes were hard on him. She turned to Aredhel and her whole expression changed. She smiled luminously and embraced her aunt. Tears rimmed her eyes but she blinked them away. It was a trick Aredhel had taught her and often used herself. Aredhel kissed her several times. Maeglin had always known they had been close, but he could not help but be touched. Aredhel had often called her dearer than daughter. Though their eyes and hair were different colors, he could see that they both had Noldoli eyes and their hair had the same texture. He could sense Aredhel’s strength in Idril. It seemed Turgon had left little of himself in his daughter.
“Look at you!” Aredhel exclaimed. “A Lady.”
“I have missed you, Auntie.”
“And I you, Celebrindal. “You have become such a beauty!”
“I have heard such before, but never did I believe it until you said so,” Idril grinned from ear to ear. “They say the Princess looks more like a Queen of Heaven.”
Turgon turned to Maeglin and looked with liking upon his siter-son. “What is your professoin? You are built like a bull!”
“A blacksmith, your royal highness.”
“Please, call me uncle,” the king threw an arm about him and pulled him into a bone crunching bear hug. “Welcome home, my boy.”
Maeglin was pleasantly surprised. He had been told that Turgon was jovial, but he had not expected such an immediate gesture of acceptance and affection. The only person that had shown him such unconditional love was his mother. His father had simply rewarded the good and punished the bad.
“I rejoice indeed that Aredhel Ar-Fenial has returned to Gondolin,” Turgon said, “and now my city shall seem more fair than in the days I deemed her lost. As for Maeglin, he shall be given the highest honor.”
Maeglin was annoyed that they were all calling him by his father’s given name rather than Lómion. He felt it would be rude to correct a king and he was too happy to be picky. He would later wish that he had corrected them. By the time he expressed his true feelings, the name Maeglin stuck.
He took Turgon for king then and there, to do all his will and serve him for life. Aredhel beamed at her son. She had never felt prouder of him in all her life. He was no longer the son of Eöl. Perhaps he could come to know a good life now that they were in Gondolin, away from the shadows of Nan Elmoth.
“Maeglin son of Aredhel,” Idril said aloud. “But what of his father?”
Aredhel’s face darkened and Maeglin was silent. Engner took her hand.
“Shall I explain?”
“No,” she answered. “After all, I am shameless.”
She began to tell them all, but suddenly a soldier burst through the doors.
“What is the meaning of this interruption?” Turgon demanded.
They all gasped in horror when they saw that his uniform was soaked with blood.
“Pardon me, my lord,” he panted. “The Guard have taken captive one that came by stealth to the Dark Gate. Eöl he names himself. He is tall, dark, and grim. He is Telerian, but he claims Lady Aredhel is his wife and demands that his family be returned to him at once. I know not if his claim is true, but his wrath is great and he is hard to restrain. He stabbed one of my men. This blood is his, not mine. We have not slain him as your law commands. What should we do with him?”
“Oh no, he followed us!” Aredhel cried in dismay.
“But we saw and heard no pursuit as we entered the Hidden Way!” Maeglin argued. “We were days ahead of him. It is impossible!”
Aredhel sighed. Then she rose from her seat, her expression grim. She clutched Engner’s hand.
“Everything the Dark Elf said is true. I am his wife and he is the father of my son. Do not slay him but bring him here for the King’s judgement, to do with him as he wishes. There is much I would charge him with. I also wish to divorce him immediately.”
The hall became ghostly silent. The word divorce had never been uttered in the city as a serious subject before, but Maeglin wanted to leap for joy. Engner stood beside Aredhel.
“I know the appropriate charges,” he said in support. “They include kidnapping, domestic violence, and spousal rape.”
Turgon and Idril were aghast, “Aredhel, are these things true?”
She nodded.
Turgon turned to the guard and looked closely at the blood stains, “He has also assaulted one of my guards and that too is unforgivable. I trust that his victim is being cared for?”
“Aye, the healers are tending to him now and say that it was a ferocious blow but my man will recover.”
“Send in this Dark Elf!”
Minutes later the rest of the Guard entered, pushing Eöl forward. He was unbound, but the guard had confiscated his sword and watched him carefully. He cast his captors aside resentfully. Then he gazed in wonder at Turgon on his throne and his daughter beside him. The beauty of the city had moved even his hard heart. It also filled him with envy. When he thought of his Nan Elmoth, he was reminded how impoverished he truly was. This land had been Teleri lands, and the Noldor had made a fortress of it. No matter how fair it was, it was filled with mechanisms of war and closer to Angband than he had believed possible. The Golodrim seemed proud and convinced of their superiority. They were practically tempting Morgoth to assail them on a dare.
Then Eöl saw his wife and son. Maeglin was wearing Anguriel and the emblem of Gondolin was upon his breast. That made him scowl and his blood began to boil.
“I have gone through a lot of trouble to find you,” he growled.
Aredhel and Maeglin cast him dark looks. Engner wrapped a protective arm about her.
“I think they would have preferred to stay lost.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
Looking closer, Eöl recognized the young tracker. Jealousy errupted in him. Aredhel held Engner’s hand, and one could plainly see that she felt more love for him than she had ever felt for Eöl for the entirety of their marriage.
“Get your filthy hands off my wife, Kinslayer!” he demanded.
He would have sprang at them, but the king rose, “Peace, kinsman! I will not hear that word uttered here! I name you kinsman, for so I hold you to be. Here you shall dwell at your own pleasure and not as prisoner, though you must abide here and depart not from my kingdom. It is a well known law that none that find their way here shall depart.”
Turgon offered his hand, but Eöl recoiled and drew back his own, crying, “I acknowledge not your law! Dwell at my own pleasure, though I must depart not? You have no right to keep me here against my will! I believe that is what is done with prisoners, not true kinsmen. Neither do you have the right to set bounds or seize realms as carelessly as your kind have. This is the land of the Teleri, to whom you repay with only famine and war and all unquiet! If this is how you treat kinsmen, I would hate to be an enemy! I care nothing for your secrets and have not come to spy upon you. I have only come to this cursed place to reclaim what is mine. My wife and son!”
Engner was fiercly loyal to both Aredhel and his king and replied, “How dare you speak to the king that way! You are fortunate that you were even allowed admittance into our halls and not slaughtered at the gate! Do you deny that you took advantage of Aredhel seeking shelter from a storm, held her prisoner, forced her into wedlock, and that your son was born of rape!”
Maeglin winced at that. He had long guessed that his conception was unnatural. It was thought that maidens could only bear children of their own will and would die if they were taken by force. It was a myth. Unplanned pregnencies were so rare, and the concept of rape so foreign to the Eldar, that they had no reason to believe otherwise. But hearing such a thing spoken aloud hurt Maeglin.
Instead of addressing Engner’s accusation, Eöl said, “And what gives you the right, vile servant, to speak so rashly or insolently to me? I am Lord of Nan Elmoth and great among the Teleri!”
“You are the bastard son of pigs and lord of nothing but shadows!”
Eöl turned to Turgon, “If you have some claim to your sister, then let her remain. It was my understanding that she came to hate this place in her younger years. If she had really wanted to leave me, she certainly could have. She had many oppurtunities to return home. We had pleasant times, did we not Aredhel?”
He held her gaze and she conceded, “You gave me a son, and not all of my years were hateful in Nan Elmoth. But from this day forth, I renounce you and your kin. I am your wife no longer.”
“You think it is that easy?” his voice became soft. “You cannot leave me.”
“On the contrary,” Engner said, “she can.”
“Very well. Let the bird go back to the cage where in time she will only sicken again as she sickened before. She will remember her true home in Nan Elmoth and realize that her place is with me. But not so Maeglin. My son you shall not withold from me unless the sun rises in the west! You cannot fathom the ways in which we are connected. He is mine by right!”
“Call upon him then,” Idril spoke, and Maeglin was encouraged that she would involve herself. “If you indeed are connected as you say, he will follow you and we cannot stop him. But I doubt he will obey like a broken dog. This is where his true family is. He has sworn his sword to my father, and such an oath is binding. If he is bonded to anyone, I think it would be to the king now and his mother.”
“If there is a shred of honor left in him he will come with me,” Eöl snapped.
“Very well then,” Idril’s smile was mirthless. “Call him.”
“I shall!” and turning he called to his son, “Come, Maeglin son of Eöl! Your father commands you!”
Maeglin did not even glance in his direction in ackowledgement.
“Come, child of mine!” Eöl harshened his voice. “Leave the house of our enemies and the slayers of our kin! Remember the sack of the Havens and the blood of the Teleri spilled into the sea!”
Maeglin was silent and did not move, as though he had not heard.
“You damnable tricksters have bewitched him somehow and turned a son against his father!”
Engner laughed as though that was a capital joke. Idril gave him a sharp look and he ceased.
“Now have the White Lady call,” she said.
“Lómion, darling. Please join me,” Aredhel beckoned.
“Gladly, mother,” Maeglin responded at once.
He rose from where he sat with Idril and sat beside his mother instead.
“What have you done to my son?” Eöl demanded.
“I will not debate with you, Dark Elf,” Turgon said, still digesting all that had been said and done. “We are not your enemies. Those of us in Gondolin took no part in the Kinslaying you speak so often of and it is by the valor of the Noldor that your sunless woods are kept safe from the Enemy. Your freedom to wander Nan Elmoth you owe to my people!”
Eöl would have protested, but Turgon took up his sceptre of doom. It was the royal symbol of law and judgement. Even Eöl recognized it and stopped himself.
“I am here king and whether you will it or not, my doom is law. Therefore, you have but two choices. Abide here or die here. That choice is also offered to your son. Choose wisely.”
Eöl did not answer at once but turned his back and was still and silent. Aredhel was afraid and licked her lips. She knew he was perilous, and his silence did not comfort her.
After some time, Turgon said, “I must have an answer. Now.”
“I have chosen!” Eöl cried and suddenly faced them, a light in his eyes and his face a twisted mask of malice. “I choose the second choice and so also for my son! You shall not withold what is mine!”
Swift as a serpent, he drew a javelin from his cloak and cast it at Maeglin. Aredhel reacted quickly and sprang before him, taking the dart in the shoulder. Maeglin caught her as she fell, crying out in despair, but she was smiling.
“I am alright,” she said with triumph, “and you are safe.”
Engner dove at Eöl, trying to restrain him from doing further harm. There had been a flash of horror upon Eöl’s face when he saw he hit the wrong target. He drew a knife from his boot and tried to slash at Maeglin. The guard rushed to try to pin him, but Eöl was strong and determined to rectify his error. If Engner was enraged, Maeglin went beserk. He had seen his mother victimized too many times for him to count. For years he had held back his intense hatred of his father. Now it spilled forth from him. He wrestled the knife from his father.
“I warned you not to follow us!” he roared. “I warned you not to harm Aredhel! Give me that knife! It is just like you to toss hidden spears and crude knives! I will kill you, you bastard!”
Instead of a struggle to restrain one, the guards were forced to try to pull two apart. Father and son were trying to murder each other. Three took hold of the father and three more the son. But Maeglin seemed an animal, thirsting for a taste of vengeance and only blood would satisfy it. Though they wrested both the knife and Anguriel away from him, Maeglin managed a single devastating blow to Eöl’s head, knocking him unconscious. He was no more trouble. All hands now went to keep Maeglin from finishing him off.
When Maeglin was finally curtailed and Aredhel rushed to the healers, Eöl was taken to the dungeons. The javelin was removed from her shoulder, her wound cleaned and dressed. She insisted she was fine. It had been a small hurt, after all. Her shoulder was sore but she had suffered worse from her husband. Idril wrapped the wound herself with utmost care.
Turgon, Engner, and Maeglin were still furious. Maeglin became cold and silent. Anguriel was returned to him after he promised not to try to kill his father again. He paced the halls of healing, concerned only for his mother now. Engner asked for details of Eöl’s other crimes, anxious to make an official account for trial. Turgon wanted to skip a trial altogether.
“Now for a certainty the Dark Elf has earned death!” he said. “It would be just with the charges already stacked against him and with the choice he has made himself. We have no need of a lengthy trial to expose him for what he is. I saw him attempt murder upon his own son with my own eyes. There are plenty of other witnesses that saw the same. If I were to slay him now no curse would befall us. We would be twice blessed!”
“Father, you must not touch him!” Idril said at once. “I know that no good could come of his execution!”
“Neither will I allow it,” Aredhel added, surprising them all.
“Sister?” Turgon said doubtfully.
“He was my husband. He was at fault many times, yes, but he gave me my son. For that I can pardon him of almost anything. Judge him as you will, brother, but spare him his life!”
“Why are the maiden folk so eager to defend him when you are so often his victims?” Engner scoffed. “Do you really believe that the monster deserves less? He tried to murder the precious son he gave you, the same son he has used against you all of your life! Do you realize that if you had been struck by that spear an inch more to the left, he would have murdered you too?”
“It was an accident!” she continued to defend him. “You made him feel cornered and provoked the attack! He knew no other way to react. If only you had thrown him out the Gates-”
“You know better,” Turgon interrupted. “You led him here and now he can never leave. His hatred for the Noldor is so deep that he will most certainly sell our secrets if only to see my city burn. He would be a most troublesome prisoner. What would you have me do?”
“Give him time,” she pleaded. “After such acts, he becomes gentle and contrite. Perhaps if I were to go to him-”
“You do not really mean to leave him, do you?” Engner said with a trace of sadness. “All your talk in the last hour was excitement, nothing more.”
“No,” in that she held firm. “I am done being his wife, but I can never sever ties with him that easily. It must be a gradual process. Allow him to grow used to Gonodlin. Perhaps he is mentally disturbed and needs healer. You cannot simply kill him!”
Turgon looked at her thoughtfully and said at last, “We shall decide his fate with a fair trial and anaylze him for illness. I have shown mercy with this simple gesture.”
“Thank you, brother,” Aredhel kissed him. “I do not deny Eöl has transgressed, but I do not want to see him dead. Somehow I know that my fate is intertwined with his. Besides, I can think of no greater torment for him than to be hostage to the Noldor. Now if you do not mind, I feel exhausted in mind and body after all that has happened. May I return to my old bedchamber to rest?”
“Of course!” Turgon exclaimed. “The sun is setting and you will need rest for speedy healing. We have left your room just as it was. I do not feel comfortable leaving you alone. Allow my daughter to accompany you. I am sure she is eager to catch you up upon all that has befallen her in her years growing up. It is also a chance for Maeglin and her to properly aquaint themselves.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “That would be fitting indeed.”
Engner kissed Aredhel goodnight and Idril brought them to the White Lady’s old chambers. She was amazed that everything had been left exactly as it was. Even her old diary had not been handled. She flipped through some of the pages, scanning words and phrases. How naïve she had been then! She had kept no diary in Nan Elmoth. Even if Eöl could not read the old tongue, he would have assumed it was only full of plots and secrets, and if she had written in the Sindarin script, he would have read it. She would not risk trying to keep one. Her wardrobe was all in place, and the bed was still unmade and wrinkled. She had always left that chore for her servants.
“I would have expected you to move into my chambers as soon as you came of age and inherited my title, Celebrindal,” Aredhel said.
Idril answered, “I could not dream of doing such a thing. I would have refused the title as well, if my father had allowed it. I always knew that you were not dead. It was at my express orders that the room was left as it was. My own chambers are elsewhere and quite humble.”
“Why would you choose such lodgings?” Maeglin said with a touch of humor. “A Princess deserves dozens of rooms for all of her needs and wants.”
Idril, it seemed, lacked of humor and said with all seriousness, “I require little that I cannot provide myself. I do not keep much company, and I own very few posessions.”
“Have you been very lonely, my child?” Aredhel began stroking her hair. “I should have never left you alone to be raised by my brother. I love him well, but it is hard to raise a child alone.”
“I managed. When Engner finally returned after searching for you, he became like a second father to me. Since I knew he had done everything in his power to guard and guide you, I loved him. He has taught me much and visits me often.”
Aredhel was very pleased at those words but asked, “Have you no other friends?”
Idril glanced at Maeglin. She did not like revealing so much about herself in his presence. He was a stranger to her, but she craved to tell her aunt all and she knew she could not separate Maeglin from her.
“I find relationships… difficult to maintain. It is no matter, there are so many other things.”
“I understand how that must feel,” Maeglin said.
Idril made no reply. As they talked, Aredhel began to feel ill. Her chills worsened, and yet her skin felt aflame. It was as though a fire had been set in her flesh. She did not speak of it for a while. She did not know it was serious until her shoulder became numb and then the rest of her arm. The fire spread and she began to have violent throes. Maeglin and Idril rushed her to the healers.
The king was told at once and rose from sleep to go to her. Engner was at his side. The healers were puzzled. They did not understand Aredhel’s strange symptoms and did not know how to treat her. They gave her purging potions and bled her, but she was rapidly declining. Her wound did not appaer festered, but they could only assume it was the cause.
Suddenly, a wave of horror swept over Maeglin and he cried, “Someone ask my father what he put on that javelin!”
Engner responded at once. He hurried swiftly down to Eöl’s cell. When Engner approached, Eöl sprang and caught the bars. He was laughing.
“I have been shouting to the damn guards to let me get but one word to Turgon or anyone! No one would come. And now you are here! How is my beloved wife?”
“She is dying!”
“As I expected. Can the healers saver her or not?”
“Why would you expect such a thing? One such as her should never be ill! What have you done?”
“The javelin was poisoned so that even if Maeglin had received no more than a scratch, he would join me in death.” Engner turned to rush back to the healers to tell them, but Eöl continued, “It was a special type of poison and can only be treated if the specific poison is known. I am afraid it may be too late to save her. If I had not been assailed by so many and been allowed to speak, I would have told you what the poison was. Now, I will no longer tell you what poison I used.”
“What do you mean? You will condemn Aredhel to death! How could you? What kind of a father would murder his son or a husband his wife? It goes against all nature and morality!”
“Your benevolent king gave me no other choice. He commanded me to choose and I did. I never wanted my son to become one of my enemeies, and he had betrayed me and every virtue that I ever held dear and instilled in him! Aredhel was not to be harmed, but now I am glad that it was her that I hit. If I am to die now, I would rather have my consort join me than my spurious son. Turgon can have him. In time he will realize that I have nursed a viper for Gondolin and its people.”
“Be glad those bars separate us!” Engner snarled. “Aredhel was not to be harmed? You tormented her all of her life! You robbed her from me and you cannot even allow her true happiness now! I must know the poison. What was it? You know what it was!”
“Of course,” Eöl smiled a wry smile. “It is my poison, but I will never reveal it. Interrogate me, maim me, kill me, it will make no difference. If I cannot have Aredhel, no one can.”
“If she lives, you will be spared!” Engner said desperately, though the words tasted of bile. “You will redeem yourself. Perhaps her heart will turn to you again and she will not divorce you. You cannot let her die like this! She is too fair and strong willed! What if I promised never to pursue her?”
“Have you listened to a word I have said! Even if I wanted to save her, it is too late now, you fool!” Eöl bellowed. “She will be dead within the hour.”
“Then so shall you.”
Engner returned to Aredhel with a heavy heart. Her family was about her. The healers had done everything they could. They had analyzed the substance upon the javelin and confirmed their worst fears. Eöl was telling the truth. They could not identify the poison. Perhaps it was some deadly hemlock that grew only in the shadows of Nan Elmoth or a fungus that grew only in the dark and dank caves of the Dwarves. Whatever it was, the secret would die with Aredhel and Eöl. They had given Aredhel a draught to deaden her pain and ease her passing. They had only a few precious minutes to say farewell.
“Mother. You are dying,” Maeglin was tearless, but anyone could see by the look in his eyes and the pain in his voice that he was devastated.
“He has finally killed me,” she said with a mirthless laugh. “I always knew that he would.”
“With poison, nonetheless! That is so petty! That javelin was meant for me!”
“Better me than you, my son.”
“But you cannot leave me! You always said you would never leave me!”
“I do not leave by choice. You are here in Gondolin, and you are grown. You have no need of my protection anymore.”
“Auntie,” Idril wept. “It is even as I said all those years ago: You will not rest but one night behind these walls. Curse foresight! What good is it if you can change nothing?”
Aredhel managed a weak laugh, “Yes, you were right, dearer than daughter. You were always right. From the mouths of babes, wisdom comes and we refuse to see it. Forgive me that I doubted you. Forgive me for abandoning you. It is not just Maeglin I leave behind. You must lose me all over again. My poor child. Your whole life has been plagued with sorrow, but I promise you that you shall find happiness. I love you, dearer than daughter!”
“We all failed to protect you,” Turgon said.
“Oh, enough,” Aredhel scolded. “If ever I needed protection it was from myself. My pride and restlessness. I was ever a pain, brother. I took your lovely halls for granted. Think fondly of me after I am gone.”
“A part of me will die with you, sister.”
“Tell my brother Fingon that I was wrong never to have visited him. I love him well, though we were never as close as you and I, Turgon. You are a great king and a good brother.”
Aredhel turned to Engner, “I should have demanded that you kiss me that day rather than have left you. Perhaps if I return to Arda in another form, I will find you. You were the one I was meant to be with.”
“It is not too late to demand that kiss now.”
They kissed a lover’s kiss. Engner was afraid to pull away. She was fading fast now and clutched Maeglin’s hand.
“Lómion, you must promise me something.”
He nodded, knowing if he tried to speak he would only croak and fall apart.
“Promise me that you will care for your cousin Idril and for your uncle. They are your family. Obey your king and protect Gondolin. Protect the home and family I loved so well.”
“I will.”
“I love you, my son. I love you, Lómion.”
The draught the healers had given her was not enough to conceal all of her suffering. She had a spasm of pain. Turgon and Engner thought it was her last death throe. The king rushed out of the room, he could not bear the sight.
“It is time to deal justice to that Dark Elf!” he snarled and Engner followed, as eager as he was.
Aredhel gasped and cried out, but they were out of earshot already, “No! Do not kill him!”
Even though life was leaving her veins, she desperately clung to it for one last word. To Maeglin’s amaze, she managed to sit up, clasping his shoulder with one hand and reaching for Idril’s with the other.
“My son,” she said. “Do not let them slay your father! Idril, make my brother see reason! Do not let rage and vengeance overtake Gondolin! Please! My dying wish… Do not let them kill him…”
She drew in one last breath, sank back into her pillow, and slowly let it out. She said nothing more and did not move again. Maeglin rested his head upon her breast. There was no heart beat or sign of breathing. Idril stood at once.
“What are you doing?” she said. “You heard what she said! We must stop them from executing Eöl!”
Maeglin looked up at her but said nothing as though he could not comprehend.
“Are you mad? Come on!”
She pulled him to his feet and they hurried to find Turgon had reached Eöl’s cell. But he had been dragged forth from his cell and taken immediately to the Caragdur. It was a precipice of black rock upon the north side of the Hill of the city. Turgon gathered his lords and counselers and set Eöl in their midst, still chained and scowling. He began pronouncing his deeds. It sounded like the proceedings of an execution.
“Father, do not touch him! It was Aredhel’s wish that he be spared!” Idril cried.
“Idril, if you must interrupt you will be escorted away from this place,” Turgon replied coldly.
The body of Aredhel had been carried there as soon as Maeglin and Idril left her. She was set before Eöl so that he could see the fruit of his sin.
“Here now is the wife you so mistreated! You have robbed my sister of her immortal life! She is dead by your hand! What do you have to say for yourself?”
“This death was not meant for her, but if I had the means it would be for you and all your great lords!” he snapped.
He stroked Aredhel’s hair and Engner broke from his place among the court and shoved him away.
“Do not touch her! Leave the dead in peace!” he was hysterical with his grief and rage.
“You shall be cast over the walls of the city to justify her death,” Turgon announced. “Long shall Mandos hold you in his keeping!”
“I shall do the honors,” Engner volunteered, placing a hand upon Eöl’s broad shoulder. “I wish I could kill you twice!”
“No!” Idril protested. “Maeglin, he is still your father. If anyone should have a say in his fate it should be you!”
She looked to him for aid, but he looked on and said nothing.
Eöl turned to her, “So you would save my life?”
“It was my aunt’s last wish. I must respect it.”
“Your aunt?” he studied her carefully and noted the way Maeglin watched her and laughed. “Yes, I see now. You carry Aredhel’s blood, perhaps you shall share her fate someday.”
“Do you now make threats upon my daughter?” Turgon snapped. “Even though she is the only one that will defend you?”
“We have heard enough,” his courtiers declared. “Kill him!”
“My pleasure,” Engner forced Eöl to his feet and led him to the edge of the precipice.
“So you forsake your father and his kin, ill-gotten son!” he spoke his last words to Maeglin. “Here you shall fail of all your hopes and here you shall yet die the same death as I!”
Engner cast him over the Caragdur. He fell upon the rocks, and his body was shattered instantly. So Eöl the Dark Elf perished, and to all in Gondolin his execution seemed just. To all but Idril, of course. She turned her face away. Maeglin smiled for an instant then was silent and betrayed no emotion. Idril was the only one that caught his smile and found it disturbing. The smile seemed horribly misplaced. She kneeled beside Aredhel and was troubled. Troubled that she was unable to grant her last wish, that Eöl had been judged so swiftly and harshly, his words to her, and Maeglin’s obvious pleasure in his own father’s death. She knew already that Maeglin had little reason to love his father, but to stand by and let Eöl die as he did, with such apathy, seemed monstrous to her.
While Aredhel Ar-Fenial received a regal funeral as befit a child of kings, Eöl received only a simple sky burial. No one would retreive his corpse, fearful that his curse might somehow infest the city and its people. The birds picked his bones clean, the elements bleached them white, and since he had fallen somewhere between the rocks, tucked out of sight, he was forgotten. No one in Gondolin liked to speak of unpleasant things, and Eöl had been one of the few true villains among the Eldar. They preferred not to glorify such behavior and focused instead upon his victim.
The whole city went out into the streets with flowers to offer their condolences, share their grief, and glimpse the once admirable and beautiful White Lady of Gondolin. Though she had been seen as unconventional in her youth, the circumstances of her long absence and death was a tragedy that the people became deeply touched by. She had proven to be an intrepid and selfless mother, sacrificing herself so that her son could live and at last throwing off the yoke of her abusive husband.
Engner never courted anyone, even though he and Aredhel had never technically been lovers by some standards. They had exchanged several kisses, but he knew she had been the only one he could ever love. He had no hope of finding it again until she was restored to the world or if he found her in Valinor when he died. He had grown used to being a bachelor anyway. He had already disestablished his career as a tracker. He occupied his time by drawing and making maps and became a scholor and artist. His friendship with Idril Celebrindal deepened. After Aredhel’s death she became even more introverted and angry. She needed all the comfort she could get, especially since Turgon seemed more concerned about other things. She found herself drifting further from her father. Though he tried to reach his daughter, it was not possible. Instead, she came to think of Engner more so her father. They visited Aredhel’s grave often together.
Turgon was devastated by his sister’s death. He came to regret not that Eöl was dead, only that he had been so hasty. His grief had made his judgement rash and he had lost his temper. He was a king that was famed for his patience and easy temperment. He became much more strict with passage in and out of Gondolin. Since most of the Goldodrim never desired to leave anyway, they were not bothered. Turgon focused again upon building projects, repairing and fortifying the walls and defenses, making the city ever more beautiful and great. He treated it more and more as though the city itself was a child of his own. And, of course, he grew to love his nephew, warming to him swiftly since he was all that remained of his sister upon Arda. He had always wanted a son, more so than he had wanted a daughter, though he would never admit it, and Maeglin had everything one could desire in a son.
Maeglin did not grieve publicly for his mother. He took his grief and anger behind closed doors. He found it difficult to make friends or to even walk the streets of Gondolin for a while, fearful that the stigma surrounding the events of his birth and first night in the city would haunt him forever. He was pleasantly surprised that this was not so. Since he bore the look of the Noldor and his mother, it made things easier. He also found that the Golodrim were quick to forgive and forget if they could most anything, and even if they did not wish to accept him, he was now a prince. Who would dare to rebuff the nephew of King Turgon, especially since he took every chance to praise him? He was hailed upon sight, strangers offered him drinks, and young maids blushed if he so much as looked upon them.
He found that pleasant. He had never thought of himself as handsome since he had little opportunity to court the scarce girls in Nan Elmoth and his father was quick to criticize his Noldoli features. Now he realized that not only was he handsome, but his muscular physique, the one physical attribute he had inherited from Eöl, was seen as unique by the maidens of Gondolin who were more accustomed to slender and more delicate males. He observed that many of the maids of Gondolin were fair and eagerly took up courting. He became as notorious as Aredhel for breaking hearts. His romances were many and brief. He often took his mistresses to bed and they parted the next night which was something Aredhel would never do. Though he enjoyed their company, Maeglin found not a single one that satisfied all his needs. If his desire for flesh was insatiable, so was his lust for power.
Maeglin was eager to prove himself to his new kin and his king. He started with what he was best at, mining in the mountains of the Echoriath and seeing what sorts of new metals he could create with what he found. Though he listened to all that the other smiths had to demonstrate, he had even more to teach. He revealed the secret of galvorn to the Golodrim. It became popular since it was so flexible, and though it was not the toughest of their armor, it was excellent for archers who would be protected by the walls anyway and needed the dexterity to aim. After mining and experimenting he discovered a new steel which he shaped into blades. It proved stronger and more durable than previous steels, a great discovery indeed.
His next agenda was oratory, attending the council meetings, adding his voice to whatever was being discussed. He was prudent and bided his time at first, allowing long respected members to have their say, and then he attacked them with his powerful voice. He was aggressive and also had a strange way of manipulating his words and twisting others’ so that even if his argument was not at first sound, it became so in the minds of his audience. His charisma was soon recognized as well as his wisdom and he was nominated by the council, not the king himself, to be chief counselor of Turgon.
His next step was to mass produce the new steel so that every soldier would be armed with a sword of its ilk. He took many apprentices and taught them how to fold over the steel upon itself. It was soon put to the test since trouble came upon Fingon and the Golodrim came to his aid in one of the Great Battles. Maeglin was allowed his own regiment. His men came to respect him despite his youth and never having fought a single battle, for he showed remarkable discipline and leadership. He was also fearless and merciless to the Enemy, using aggressive tactics and pursuing the Enemy even as they fled before him. Because of his steel and his cunning on the battlefield, the fight was won, or so he was credited. The Enemy was crushed into the dust. He returned to the city a war hero.
It was also in this battle that he became familiar with the new race of Men. Húrin and Hour, two young lords of the House of Hador, won great favors on the field as well. They were tall men and fair with heads of gold. Turgon came to admire the brothers’ courage and saw how they inspired their own men. Húrin and Hour were granted a rare privilege. The Eagles carried them to Gondolin, and they alone of mortal men were allowed to look upon the Forbidden City and were welcomed by King Turgon and granted brief sanctuary there. Maeglin advised against it, for he was proud and did not love men. He saw Dwarves as useful allies, but he could not look upon Men as anything more than shields in battle. He warned that Men were untrustworthy and Húrin or Hour, or perhaps both, would betray their secrets. He was astonished that Turgon rebuffed him for the first time.
“It is not our place to judge mankind, sister-son,” he said. “Unlike us, they were not guided from the beginning by the Valar. They were lost and alone until Finrod Felagund came upon them. They have flaws, but are we really so different after all? These are our younger brothers and should never be seen as our enemies. I have seen them fight bravely upon the battlefield against Morgoth and his servants. What more could you ask of them when they are willing to give up their lives?”
And even as Hour and his brother were about to leave the city, something possessed him to say to Turgon, “From you and from me someday, a new star shall rise.”
He thought that only the king had heard him, but Maeglin was nearby and heard his words. Neither of them forgot them.
Maeglin was angry that the king could ever disagree with him in anything and found it curious that he had warmed to Húrin and Hour so quickly. He was glad that no other Men were allowed in Gondolin. But the matter proved that he had not won his uncle’s heart completely. His advice after the terrible war was that Turgon build a seventh gate using the new steel. In a massive building project, it was done. In this way, Maeglin made his mark upon the city by making the strongest and tallest of the seven gates and it was the first thing that their enemies would be greeted with should they try to breach the city.
In a few short years, Maeglin had fast become one of the most powerful of the princes of Beleriand. Turgon soon sat him near his throne so that Maeglin was on his right and his daughter Idril was on his left. It was clear to Idril that her father had set him even above her. Despite all of his success, Maeglin was not happy. He wished that Aredhel was alive to see his achievements. Everything he did seemed less grand. And even though he gained a following in the city, he had no true friends. Engner had tried to play the paternal guardian for the sake of his mother’s memory, but Maeglin made him uneasy. His ascension to the throne was still in doubt, and there was no telling if Turgon would ever need an heir to take his place.
Maeglin revealed his mind to no one unless it was Idril Celebrindal, and he only allowed her glances while he was vulnerable.
Idril came upon him once as she visited Aredhel’s tomb. She had thought she was alone until she almost bumped into him. He was curled up against the wall of the tomb, weeping. She took pity upon him and stooped to comfort him.
“Cousin,” she placed her hand on his shoulder, “I know what it is like to lose a mother.”
“Yes, you do,” he consented. “But you do not understand what our life was like in Nan Elmoth. What it was like with him!”
It was then that he told her of his childhood and all that had befallen him and his mother in Nan Elmoth. The pain he had never shared with anyone poured out of him all at once after so many years burying it. Idril listened intently in growing horror. Never had she imagined that Eöl had been so cruel. Yet she knew there was something Maeglin was not telling her. He told her everything, leaving out only the part in which he slaughtered all the servants in Nan Elmoth. He kept that dark secret to himself and wisely so.
“I fear that I have troubled you unfairly,” he apologized. “There is little you can do about my past. I let my mind wander as I spoke. Forgive me, but you are the only one I trust in this city.”
“What do you mean? No one in Gondolin is untrustworthy and everyone adores you. You have done so much for the city. Has someone done something, said something-”
“No, they are all fine people and they have all been cordial. It is just that I always imagined when I was a boy that as soon as I came to Gondolin everything would be different. Mother would finally be happy again and my father’s memory would fade. It seems that I have all that I desire, but no one to share it with. And if there are those that love me publicly, there are many more that are indifferent or even despise me. I have made a fool of myself courting so many maidens. I have had ill luck in that aspect of my life. My own feelings confuse me.”
He locked eyes with her as he said this, and she began to feel very uncomfortable. As their conversation started, he had taken her hand and as it ensued, put the other about her. Now he pulled her close to him and began running his fingers through her hair. He had always found her hair so irresistible, fragrant and golden as the first time he had seen the sun.
“I have watched you since first I came here,” he confessed, “and yet you are still an enigma to me. I find you fascinating. I especially love to watch you speak at council. You are more talented than the other lords and ladies, and yet you speak so seldom. When you are not at court you wander Gondolin, working in the House of Play or the Houses of Healing, or you are looking over scrolls in the library. You always walk alone. I do not think you have ever courted a single suitor. Your serving maids do not flock about you as other ladies have them do. You seldom laugh or smile, but when you do, it is an amazing thing. Perhaps you do understand me, better than I understand myself. You are alone as I am.”
“I have all that I need,” she replied.
“You tell yourself that on those cold, lonely nights. Those nights when the regrets of the past come to haunt you and you realize that you are losing touch with everyone around you. I know. I know all there is to know about you. We are already connected by blood, but there is more than the familial ties. Deep down you know it too. I wish that I did not have to draw it from you discretely. I had hoped you would come to me with your sorrows, that we might comfort each other sooner.”
He drew close to her, his nose almost touching hers. He was becoming so intimate that it made her think of a lover and she shivered. She tried to pull away, but he clutched her tight and she experienced first hand the strength he had inherited from his father.
“Maeglin,you are hurting me,” she complained.
“Forgive me,” he immediately let her go. “I forget my strength sometimes. I did not mean to hurt you. Believe me, I harbor nothing but love for you.”
“I appreciate that.”
He laughed, almost bitterly, “Is that all you have to say? I appreciate that?”
“What more do you want of me, kinsman?”
He looked annoyed that she would even ask, “Everything.”
He quickly leaned forward and stole a chaste kiss upon her brow and gauged her reaction. She seemed unperturbed. Encouraged, he wanted to see how far he could go. He kissed her eyes, then the tip of her nose. With each little kiss, she grew more and more confused and alarmed but felt as though she were paralyzed. With each kiss, his breath became heavier. He gave her a brotherly kiss upon the lips. Then he pushed forward for a more passionate one. She turned her face away just in time to miss it and lurched to her feet, having reached the end of her rope. Maeglin did not stop her, though he wanted to. He wanted to bar her path and pin her to the floor and take all that he desired. The call to do so was almost irresistible for a moment, and Aredhel saw a flash of his lust in his eyes. It frightened her.
“Maeglin-”
“I wish you would not call me that. I would think that after so many years you no longer needed permission to call me by my childhood name.”
“Cousin then. That is what I shall call you, for that you are and we must never forget that.”
“We are cousins and yet you do not seem to enjoy my company.”
“I find it hard to enjoy anyone’s company. That is just how I am. Father always said I was a moody child that talked moonshine like my aunt.”
“He is unfair.”
“It seems you know my father better than I do,” she said with a hint of jealousy.
“He will not be king forever,” Maeglin said. “Even kings have been slain before. If the Valar are willing, he will rule for many ages, but eventually he will grow world-weary. Perhaps we shall rule together, side by side. Even if he named me his heir, I would never dream of stealing your birthright.”
“That is good of you,” Idril did not know what else to say.
“Perhaps if I become king, I can change several things.”
“What needs changing?” she was curious now.
He smiled enigmatically, “Oh, just minor details.”
After that day, Idril never allowed Maeglin an opportunity to be alone with her again. As the years passed, he watched her and waited, hoping that by some miracle her heart would turn to him. Perhaps if their feelings were mutual Turgon would allow a marriage. His was the only approval that mattered and his throne would pass to someone of his own blood in truth. But Idril did not return his affections. Eventually his love turned to darkness in his heart. Thus it was in Gondolin amidst the peace and bliss of that city that a dark seed of evil was sewn.
