The Fall of Gondolin: Part 1 Aredhel

Aredhel Ar-Fenial slipped away from the crowded hall and stood alone in her bower, far from the revelry of the court. She stopped and breathed deeply to catch her breath as well as to listen for anyone that might have been following her. If so, they would likely drag her back to the feast with a kind word or a reproaching one. When she was certain she was alone at last, she pulled out several scrolls and began documenting the thoughts racing through her head. Putting them to paper rested some of those thoughts and gave her a little peace of mind. If she had remained in that stuffy hall a moment longer, she feared that she might have utterly forgotten herself and her station and screamed aloud or shattered the nearest bit of crockery. How would the Golodrim react to her then? Though everyone assured her that the people loved her, she knew that they all secretly thought she was too strange to be a proper lady.
She had been having that feeling again; the sense that the great stone walls of the citadel of Gondolin were closing fast upon her and she was helpless to stop it. The music and the droning of a myriad of voices threw her into confusion. The brightness of the countless candles hurt her eyes, and the heat of the fires and torches was nigh unbearable. The intoxicating and sometimes suffocating scents of a variety of food, from roasted meats to garden vegetables, from fruit to tempting desserts, became overwhelming and made her stomach roil. The taste of sweat and wine was upon the tip of her tongue. Her head was spinning with the assault upon her senses.
She was still unused to the great city of Gondolin, and her ears were easily wearied with the usual talk amongst the Golodrim. The simple-minded folk, great and small alike prattled on merely about the next festivity, the latest Council, the dreary happenings of the day, and if there was naught else to talk about, they gossiped about their fellows. Gondolin was one of the few places left in Beleriand that knew peace, and so every day was a holiday, and there was more leisure time than the Golodrim knew what to do with. Aredhel found the constant celebrations dull and trite and avoided them if she could. But oftentimes, her brother invited her as a guest of honor, and there was no escaping her duties to her king. She was not so much a voluntary guest, and everyone was considered an honored guest at these gatherings. She did not feel honored, she was merely expected.
His little daughter Idril always came along as well, and she was Aredhel’s charge with her mother gone. So Aredhel took the time to gather together a wardrobe for that night and stood alongside her brother and pretended to be enjoying herself as she watched her niece with affection. With everyone constantly talking to everyone but herself, she began to feel lonely and awkward. But when she attempted to take charge of a conversation, she lost her audiences’ interest quickly when she mentioned that the hunting season was almost upon them and explained the best way to skin a fresh kill or the importance of animal scat in identifying prey. When she realized that they had merely been staring the whole time with their mouths hanging open, she gave up trying to make friends.
The Golodrim held a very high opinion of themselves. Most of their lords were High-Elves, but many more had been born there in the city of white-washed stone and splendor. They knew nothing of the sorrows of the world or of Valinor, always sheltered and ignorant. They found hunting distasteful and often thought of their kin in Nargothrond and the Sindar as barbarians. Gondolin was the fairest place in Arda, even though Aredhel had heard the minstrels sing that King Thingol was the tallest of the Eldar, his city of Menegroth and the realm of Doriath was the fairest, his queen the wisest, and his daughter the most beautiful that was or ever shall be. King Finrod and his folk could have their damp caves, it would not save them. Besides, they had gotten the idea from the Sindar, and King Thingol could have his Girdle of Melian. Sorcery and bows would not protect them either.
It was prophesied by Mandos that Gondolin would be the last to fall to Morgoth, and that meant it would never fall in the Golodrim’s simple minds. The White Lady knew better. Mandos had prophesied that it certainly would fall. They had more time to prepare for Morgoth’s inevitable attack, but nothing more. High walls and gleaming swords would not save them.
Aredhel was the youngest of her siblings. Her father Finwë had had two sons, which were Fingon and Turgon. Turgon ruled the Noldor in the North, Fingon ruled the rest. Aredhel’s duty was to aid Turgon in Gondolin as a sort of co-regent. But though she was the youngest of the Royal Children and a female, she was just as fierce as her brothers. Before she had come with her brother to Gondolin, she had dwelt with her cousins Celegorm and Curufin in the lands of Himlad. They were strictly her half-cousins, and since they were two of the Seven Sons of Fëanor, there was some bad blood between them and their kin.
Fëanor had divided the Noldor into two branches. The original king had had two wives, an unusual thing among the Eldar. His first wife, Miriel, died bearing his heir, Fëanor. His second wife, Indis, bore to him two other sons. Turgon was the descendant of one of these. When the true king was murdered by Morgoth the fallen Vala, Fëanor proposed that the Noldor leave Valinor and seek vengeance. All agreed, but Fëanor proposed other things as well, such as usurping the Sindar’s lands and amassing armies to destroy their foe Morgoth and to reclaim his stolen Silmarils at any cost. Indis’ children spoke out against him, and so he left them to cross the terrible Grinding Ice on foot and took those that were loyal to him to the Havens of the Teleri. There, he murdered the ship-wrights and stole their ships. That was why the Noldor were cursed, and their fathers had become sworn enemies when the Noldor went into exile.
Bitter was the crossing of the Helceraxë, the Grinding Ice that brought the children of Indis from the blessed lands of Valinor and into the unknown that they intended to make their new home. The great mass of people feared avalanches would sweep them away. Rocks encrusted with ice would now and then fall upon them and injure or kill with only the slightest disturbance. This turned out to be the least of their worries. They had only to tread lightly and quietly. The real killer was simply the cold itself. It pierced through layers and layers of cloth and fur and gnawed its way through bones. It killed slowly but surely. Most froze to death, falling asleep and dreaming of being warm. The first that died did so in their sleep, victims to the cold. After that they fought off sleep. Those that gave in to their exhaustion risked death, even torch bearers that had fire froze to death. The ground upon which they trod was treacherous, for often it was ice disguised with snow.
Some fell through and drowned in the icy cold waters, trapped as the ice reformed to imprison them forever. Turgon’s wife and the Queen of the Golodrim met her fate in this way. She handed her newborn baby, the Princess Idril, into Aredhel’s arms and strayed away to lead several stragglers back to the main group. Without warning, the ground gave way beneath her and her party, and though they were rescued from the waters, she had stood in the middle of the fray, and thus she was unreachable. The Golodrim had tried in vain to save her. Turgon dove into the waters, but this too was vanity. Elenwë was trapped under fresh ice, and her people could only watch in horror as she struggled to shatter it, struggled with her last ounce of strength for a single breath. And while she struggled, her face blanched from the lack of air and the bitter cold. Then she became peacefully still, and it was over.
Aredhel was just as distressed as everyone else with Elenwë’s death, and she was angered when she learned that Fëanor had left them all there to die. But, she told herself, that was Fëanor‘s sin, not his sons. Not Celegorm and Curufin, whom she loved. Growing up in Valinor, she had been Celegorm’s favorite play-mate, despite her gender. Even when she was young, she had climbed trees, fearless of injury or grime. She could throw stones more accurately than the brothers, but her father did not allow her to carry a sword or train with one. That was above her status and ladyship. But she rode horses and became a fine huntress under Prince Celegorm’s training. He bragged that he had made her the finest huntress of all time, and perhaps he was right. Rather than wearing pretty dresses that were dreadfully uncomfortable, inconvenient, and easily worn out after their first wear, she wore a boy’s plain, loose tunic and tough riding breeches. She was always upon a horse if she was not sleeping. She founded a grand kennel and had many hounds. She missed them sorely when they left Valinor.
Aredhel had dealt with much turmoil for her behavior even then. Her father and her brothers did not like it that she returned from the Pastures of Yavanna with grass and leaves in her hair, dirt and blood stains upon her clothes, boy’s clothes for that matter, and spoke with a fiery tongue, fearless of rebuke. She felt she was the equal of anyone, male or female, and she was told by them that she was so. But, she was also a Lady, daughter of kings, and had a reputation to protect and a duty to her people. She was told that she must stop tramping about with these upstart Sons of Fëanor. She refused, and Celegorm, always eager to stir up mischief, increased his time with her in spite. Finwë had a stern talking with him, claiming that he had unsexed Aredhel, but in the end, she agreed to compromise. She began to wear dresses more often and acted more ladylike around her father and brothers. But her heart was wild and untamable, and she was able to continue hunting with Celegorm beside her.
Now that she was no longer a child and her father and elder brother was leagues away, she had more freedom. Turgon was not so strict as the other males in her family. She could wear a sword if she pleased, but she could not wield it in the public eye. Blades could not be drawn unless it was for training or battle, and there was little of that. She could not hunt in the wild lands. The animals near Gondolin were tame, the gardens planted there by her people. She could not wear whatever she desired either. She wore elegant dresses so that she would not be disgraced and attended one festival after another, and even worse, her once constant companion Prince Celegorm was not there to make japes or cause trouble.
Idril was her only joy, and was practically her own babe. Her niece was the prettiest, sweetest child, though sometimes she could be a handful. Idril always turned to her Auntie if she had questions, concerns, or had gotten into trouble. Unfortunately, the poor girl had no one else to turn to. In return for her kindness, if Aredhel could not tolerate another social gathering, Idril would do her best to convince her father that the White Lady could not possibly attend. Oftentimes she came up with clever excuses, but Turgon insisted more and more these days. Perhaps he had ceased to believe any excuses or Idril had run out of ideas.
Aredhel also wished to avoid her suitors. She was the sister of King Turgon and therefore the most desirable female bachelor in the North Kingdom, and seemingly the most available. She was a fierce and independent maiden, beautiful, intelligent, but stark cold. She felt no remorse for those that fell for her charms. After all, she sought no husband and did not desire one at all. She used and discarded most of her suitors, leading on a poor lad to stay the eager tongues of the court for a little while, testing her seductive powers and enjoying herself. She gave the more overbearing ones impossible tasks in order to prove their love and devotion until they finally realized that their efforts were in vain and sought another, less tempered jewel to pursue.
But the pressure from her own people was fast mounting. She could not dally in the matter of courtship much longer. They wanted assurance that the throne would not be vacant if something catastrophic were to fall upon Idril their heiress or if she were otherwise incapable of carrying out her duty. If not, the bloodline would call upon one of the Sons of Fëanor to reign, and the Golodrim did not want that at all. She grew tired of the rendezvous, the game of ‘cat and mouse’ in her opinion. She made it known to everyone that she was now a disciple of the Valier Nessa, a Virgin Huntress, and inaccessible. This did not stop suitors coming to call upon her to try and convince her to change her mind and renounce her hasty vow. She had once found it amusing. Now it was a constant aggravation.
At long last, Aredhel went to her brother and poured her heart to him and all that she desired. She longed for the ancient days and was plagued by the ceaselessly guarded city and the people‘s unguarded talk. She was also lonely for the faces of the Sons of Fëanor. She could always connect with Turgon, for they had understood one another remarkably well, even when they were children and Aredhel was a tomboy. He had disapproved of her habits and despised Celegorm, but he did not try to ostracize her as their father and elder brother Fingon had once done. Turgon listened intently to her words, as she knew he would, and he tried his best to support her, but the conversation became hostile.
“What can I do to ease your restlessness?” he asked.
“It is not you, brother. It is this place!”
“But there is nothing I can do about our surroundings. No one else has ever come to me with misgivings about Gondolin or asked to depart her before. Do you not love the city? Have we not toiled for centuries in the city’s making?”
Aredhel decided to be more tactful and said, “Do not mistake me,” for her brother loved the work of his own hands, perhaps overmuch. “Gondolin is certainly one of the fairest dwellings outside of Valinor itself. But it is for that very place that I long, and the way back to the Blessed Lands is barred to the Noldor. You cannot hope to surpass the dwelling places of the Valar!”
“You long for the past, dear sister,” Turgon said with pity. “And that I cannot give to you.”
“I know that, but there is yet another cure for my malady.”
“The only cure that I can think of is a husband,” Turgon suggested. “You need a companion, Aredhel. How can you bear the loneliness? You have refused every one of your suitors. Do you think I have no knowledge of your doings at court? I have heard the rabble talk of you and the hopeless pursuits you have sent Elves upon in order to win your heart or hand, for your heart you will never give! They fall about your feet and worship you, and you twist their love and deal with them cruelly! Your deeds are becoming scandalous, Aredhel! You refused even Ecthelion Lord of the Fountains and Warden of the Great Gate, and he is the finest of the Eldar that you could ever hope to find in Gondolin!”
“Yes. He is a fine and noble lord, like all of the Elves in this city,” Aredhel was agitated by his words. “None of the Noldoli are paupers, but they are all the same. They are all remote, full of pompous pride, and seek to dominate and belittle their wives. They may love them, and some may even treat them as equals, but the bride is no longer her own self. I would no longer be the White Lady in my own right with my own status, but the Lady of Ecthelion Lord of the Fountains! I would become merely a subservient extension of him.”
“Aredhel, you are the daughter of a king and my sister. You shall always have your own status, if your status is all that you seek to protect.”
“I wish to protect my own chastity and dignity, not my status! How could you think that I would be so shallow?“
“Aredhel, I wish to make a good match for you. I would never dream of wedding you to one unworthy of you.“
Aredhel searched his face and answered, “You seem determined to marry me off, brother. Could it be that you are trying to get rid of me? Well then, I ask this of you: If I were to wed Ecthelion or another, who then would rear your daughter? Idril has no mother, and you have no wife to fill that void in her life. Perhaps it is you that is in need of a spouse!”
“I did have a spouse, and her name was Elenwë! I seek no other, for she was dear to me. You will never know how much I loved her... She was not only my bride, or slave, as you seem to think the word means, but my most trusted and wisest of counselors. Elenwë was my Queen, my dearest friend, and my love. She was also the mother of my child. Besides, I would rather not have a second wife that would complicate matters further as it did for Fëanor and Indis’ children. At least if you were wed to Ecthelion, you two could foster Idril in your home. Then she might finally have a taste of what it would be like to have a complete family and to be happy, for she is a moody child I fear.”
“And I do not blame her!” Aredhel retorted. “The girl lost her mother when she was a babe. Nothing can fill that abyss in her life, and now you seek to cast her from your side and into the hands of strangers! I am not so much a stranger, for I have all but reared her as my own these years, but who is Ecthelion to her but a name with titles and estates? Do you think she would truly be happy? And when she is grown, you will likely try to marry her off as well. According to ancient law, the King should be no more than the consort of the Queen. It was she that was born to the throne and did not marry into it. You would likely ignore that law and hand over the reign to Idril’s husband, and a husband of your choosing!“
“What do you care about Idril’s happiness? You are asking me to let you leave and abandon her! What shall she do without you, the closest thing she will ever have to a true mother?“
“And what of you, her father, for she is your child and not mine! Though I love her well, she did not spring forth from my loins! Do not use her as an excuse to wed me against my will and unburden yourself from raising your own heir! Idril must learn to live without me and rule one day if anything were to happen to you!”
Turgon said, “It is true. She is not your child. It seems to me as though you do not care for having children of your own either. Children are precious, and far too few these days. Do you not wish to carry on your bloodline?“
“I do not plan upon having children. If it is offspring you desire, encourage the Golodrim to have more children, but do not command it of them. Especially do not command it of me.“
“I care only for your happiness. I do not know if you can find that alone in permanent solitude!”
“I will not find happiness in marriage!” Aredhel snapped. “The very word is ominous to me! Now can we move on to a more relevant and practical subject?”
“Very well,” Turgon sighed. “But how else do you plan to cure your restlessness?”
“I am very glad you asked. I plan to depart for Himlad and dwell with the Sons of Fëanor for a time,” she answered. “I shall become the Huntress again. I felt such joy there in the forests and pastures of Valinor, calling to my hounds and running the great race. Here in this city with the thickest, tallest walls and the large numbers of soldiers and weaponry, and the endless festivals, I feel caged.”
“Perhaps I should give you some lands to make your own? What of the field of Tumladin? That would give you enough land to plant gardens or even a new forest. And there are already gardens here behind our walls of surpassing beauty! Why not spend time there and walk about them?”
“They were not originally there, were they? You planted them recently, and they are always crowded. Not with the birds and bees, but with hundreds of our people. They too seek solace from a prisoner’s life. I have walked the garden paths countless times, longing for the gardens unspoilt by greedy hands and the unexplored forests. Everything in this city had been fabricated to imitate what nature first created!”
Turgon was astonished and hurt that Aredhel was not satisfied with his own creation, and he was having difficulty understanding her desire. Did she seek only Celegorm and his misguided ways, or did she seek to claim the world for her own? Even so, her ambitions were high, and he was reluctant to yield to her desire.
“There is a law in this land that none that knows the ways hither shall depart,” he said.
“I am well aware of that law, but I am not sure yet how far I shall wander or how long I shall leave the sacred walls of Gondolin.”
“Do you think that you are above the law?”
“I am not your prisoner!” Aredhel burst in anger. “I am the White Lady, your sister, not your servant. I have said that many times before! You cannot keep me here, Turgon, and if you do, I swear-”
“Swear not!” Turgon interrupted. “Do not tempt fate, for it has a way of playing upon our words, sister!”
“Then I shall swear something that I know I can keep. I swear that I shall speak to no one of Gondolin, save for those that are of it.”
“The law,” Turgon said doubtfully, “if broken but once ceases to be a law.”
“Do you mean to say that you do not trust me to hold my tongue?” Aredhel sounded injured. “That I am no more than a prattling girl of the court and would depart from the gates and wander upon the road, telling all that I see of this most sacred city that is thought to be unassailable? How is it unassailable if but one whisper upon the wind can destroy it?”
“If I trust you, Aredhel, there are others that I trust less. But go, if you must, and seek only Fingon our brother, and those that I send with you shall return as swiftly as need be.”
“I am the White Lady. I shall go where I please and see whom I wish to see! Do not command aught else! Why are you trying your hardest to pent me here!”
“You are not afraid that Morgoth our enemy could have broken through our defenses and may be lingering with his armies on our borders? Do you realize that if a single spy, if only a bird, were to see or hear rumor of Gondolin and be true, our city would be destroyed and raptured by his black power?”
“That cannot be, for Morgoth is hemmed away in the North! I shall go South! I ask only for a small escort to guide me to Himlad.”
They argued back and forth about the matter, but Aredhel was more stubborn than he was, and he yielded at last.
“I would never deprive you of anything, sister. Promise me that you shall seek Fingon, and remember that there are many perils in the world besides Morgoth, though of these perils you may know nothing.”
He let those words linger, hoping that they might have some affect upon her, but Aredhel was not daunted by them and was no less eager to leave.
She replied only with, “I am glad that we agree, dearest brother.”
Turgon kissed her and gathered together his best guides and rangers. He carefully chose one to oversee the others The boy’s name was Engner the Tracker. He was a bit of a young pup for an elf, born and bred behind the city walls, but he was vigorous and eager to be of service to his lord and king and his lady. His youthful energy was much needed for traveling the long hard roads of Beleriand, and though he was born to a less than noble family, he was raised as the apprentice of the finest trackers of the land. He had mastered the skills needed and was known for his expertise in the making and reading of maps. He could find his way through Hell, if it was necessary, and it was such a tracker that Turgon needed, for he knew his sister all too well.
Turgon took the youth aside and spoke to him eye to eye.
“My sister is very dear to me,” he stated plainly. “You must understand this. There is only one that I love more than her, and I dare not utter her name.”
“Ar-Fenial is very dear to us all, your highness” the youth answered. “It shall be as though the moon were vacant from the sky when she departs. She does not plan to leave for all time, does she?”
Turgon narrowed his eyes, “I did not know that you were a creature of the court. Have you even lain eyes upon the White Lady?”
“No, your majesty,” Engner paled, fearing retribution, but he quickly recovered, “I have heard of her beauty and her countless suitors. I cannot imagine what the Elves shall have to do when she is at last beyond their reach and out of their sight. With peace in the land, there is not much else to take up their time.”
“Then they are ungrateful for the peace that the Valar grants to them and the walls of Gondolin that protect them! No doubt, they shall have their chance for glorious battle. We can never know the activities of the Enemy. But I was speaking of my sister. Another thing that you must understand is that she is very headstrong. You are younger than she and likely more stubborn. I am counting upon that, Engner.”
“Thank you for that compliment, my lord,” Engner was puzzled.
“I am sending Lord Ecthelion upon the road with you, as well as the young lord Glorfindel. Aredhel shall try to bend you to her will and stretch out the rules set before her. Do not allow her to dominate you or dissuade you from following my commands. She shall insist upon taking the swiftest paths, heedless of peril.”
Turgon handed several scrolls to Engner.
“What are these?”
“They are maps, of course,” he answered. “I have marked all the paths that you may take. You shall seek Fingon in Hithlum. That is the only path that you may take, mind you!”
“I understand, my lord, though I had heard that the Lady desired to seek out the Sons of Fëanor.”
“That is not my will. She should seek Fingon first, and she agreed to that before. Trust me and do not question your king.”
“But-”
“You understand my command?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then go! And may the stars shine upon you!”
*******
Engner assembled all of the paraphernalia that was necessary for their journey and joined the White Lady’s escort. Ecthelion and Glorfindel were already there with their supplies, and there were several others, no more than servants with swords and half a dozen in number. However, all were older than he, and they laughed when they realized how young he was.
“You are no more than a boy!”
“Age is only a number, my friends,” he grumbled.
“We were expecting someone with more experience.”
“I am the best tracker in Gondolin!” Engner defended. “I can track a wild deer for weeks after the trail has already grown cold, and I have been sent out upon the roads alone many times bearing messages throughout all of Beleriand! I am no public hermit like the rest of the Golodrim!”
“Very well, Master Tracker,” Ecthelion laughed with the others in amusement. “We accept your proof. Now explain why you have held us all up waiting for you? Would it not have been better to leave early in the morning?”
“I was speaking with the King.”
“And what did my brother say to you?” said a feminine voice in his ear.
He turned towards the voice and saw the White Lady, though he thought she was no more than an attendant to the King’s sister at first. She was garbed in the drab of a servant or peasant. She wore a maiden's tunic and riding breeches, stitched for hard work and travel and not for elegance. However she was dressed, she was especially beautiful. Her hair was dark and loose and fell in ripples several inches above her waist. Her skin was luminous, her eyes piercing blue. She was slender and tall, not birdlike and dainty. And yet there was a frown upon her face. Though she was in the garb of a knave, any fool could sense the strength in her. She was a daughter of kings. He felt unsettled in her presence, but he stood up proud and erect and guarded his thoughts.
“We were discussing the conditions of the road and of the impending season,” Engner answered. “It shall be especially difficult now that winter is coming. I personally think that you should have waited for spring before you decided to set out on this venture. We should be expecting heavy snows-”
He would have continued his prattling with pleasure, but Aredhel held up her hand for silence. He frowned and shut his mouth, for a child came sprinting towards the company. She was a pretty thing with hair of gold parted into seven braids. She wore a holiday gown of crimson of the finest stuff. Though she was a child, she was a tall girl for her age. Aredhel stretched out her arms and embraced her. Engner saw that the others bowed in the child’s presence. Her eyes were gray, the same as the King’s, and he realized that this must be the Princess Idril.
“Hello, little darling!” Aredhel cried indulgently, lifting the child into her arms as though she were made of nothing. “What are you doing here?”
“I have come to beg you not to leave, Auntie,” the child answered with all seriousness, “and if I cannot succeed where my father has failed, then I have come to say my mournful farewells.”
Aredhel was astonished and did not answer at once. Even the two lords were confused and watched from the corners of their eyes. They did not wish to intrude upon the conversation more than they must.
“Why are you leaving, Auntie?” the girl asked, sounding a little more like a child. “Why?”
“Because I cannot remain here. I am stifled by the city. It is as simple as that. Do you not understand, darling?”
“No. That is far too simple an answer.”
Engner almost laughed aloud, but he knew it would be most disrespectful and did not dare to even crack a smile. Usually, adults were counseled to give simple answers to their children, and only then could they understand. But, it appeared that Idril was no ordinary child. Perhaps children were not credited with the intelligence that they were deserved.
“Do not worry for me, Idril. I will not be gone forever.”
“Then when will you return? And for this, I shall need a direct answer!”
“As soon as I have grown weary of the hunt and my restlessness is cured.”
The expression on the child‘s face made it obvious that she was disappointed with that response, “Then I shall not see you again for a terrible long count of years, long after your ‘restlessness’ has passed, as you call it. You shall yearn for home more sorely than you yearn to leave it now, and the years shall be hateful to you. You must stay, for your own sake.”
“Is this a premonition, Idril?” Aredhel teased. “You are much too young for foresight. You are a child, and a child should laugh and play with other children, not trouble about their elders.”
Engner and the others laughed softly to break some of the tension, for Aredhel now looked uneasy, and Idril frowned. They did not know that even as a little girl, Idril could read many hearts and could see more accurately into the future than the Eldar were usually allowed.
“You do not believe me,” she said in a low voice, and it trembled a little, betraying her.
“It is natural to be frightened for me,” Aredhel said tenderly. “But you should not be. I want you to stay here with your father. You must take care of the king for me. He was fretting over me too.”
Idril nodded, but she muttered under her breath with bitterness, “My father would not listen to the counsel of a child any more than you have. Neither was he fully convinced by you when last you saw him. You said that you would only seek Fingon and the Sons of Fëanor after, but we both know that is not the case.”
This is an uncanny child indeed, Engner thought to himself, and Aredhel frowned. There were moments when she wondered about her little niece. Was the girl simply rude and learned her information through spying, or did she really have an ability to know things that no one else did? When she took on that odd tone when correcting an adult, was she being arrogant, or was she truly wise beyond her years?
“Auntie,” Idril pleaded, sounding like the helpless girl-child she should have been. “Please do not leave. If not for your own sake, do not leave for mine. What will I do without you? Auntie... I have no mother, no one. I love you. Do you not care for me at all? Or was I ever just a burden thrust upon you because you are the King’s sister, a bouncing brat that you despise?”
“No!” Aredhel bound her in a tight squeeze. “No, Idril! Do not ever think that! I think of you as my own daughter, and indeed the only daughter I shall ever have. I will never bear a daughter...,” Aredhel did not know what had possessed her to say the last of that, but it was proven to be a moment of foresight. “I love you more than I have ever loved anyone, and I will return. I promise you that, darling.”
And now Idril was weeping. She clung to Aredhel, and the White Lady was forced to ask for assistance. She too was in tears. At last, Idril was torn away from her by a nanny.
Suddenly she cried out, “Oh, Auntie! I will see you again, but when you return to Gondolin, you shall not rest but one night behind these walls! Goodbye, Auntie! I love you and shall miss you terribly!”
And Aredhel answered, “Farewell, Idril, my little darling. I love you more than you will ever know.”
Then she let out a command and bolted away, forcing Engner and the others to follow whether they were prepared or not. He sighed. Already she had become a problem! But with every problem, there was a solution, and he was determined to find it. The truth was that some problems have no solution.

Idril watched the travelers leave from the tower window and gazed on in sorrowful thought long after they had gone. When her nanny attempted to distract her, she drove her out of the room with her screaming. She slammed her door shut and locked it and would not take her meals or sleep. When her tutors came for her lessons, she would not let them in.
“I want Auntie!” she would cry.
At last, her father Turgon, the King himself, came to her.
“So you have come, father,” she said, making a point of the near resentment in her words. “You have come because I have misbehaved, and you must amend my conduct. Why else would you be here? Certainly not for an amiable consultation!”
“Perhaps it is better that Aredhel is leaving. I fear that you have come to adopt her double-edged sword, her tongue,” he answered with a frown. “I know you chased your nanny off because you wanted to be alone, and the tutors repeated the words you have been shouting. Perhaps I have come to comfort you. Did you think of that, my clever little girl?”
Idril stared longingly out the window and kept her back to him with deliberate iciness, “I am not so little, nor clever. If I were truly clever, I would have convinced Auntie to stay.”
“Ah, child, do not worry,“ he tried to reassure her. “I have sent her off with two of my greatest lords and a fine young tracker. She shall be all right.”
“Do you really believe that, my father?”
“Aredhel is a fine maiden. Nothing can harm her save the Enemy himself, and Gondolin is unassailable, even if her location could be found.”
“It is not for Gondolin I fear,” Idril said. “But for my Auntie. She shall not fall into the hands of the Enemy, but shall suffer a fate worse than that.”
Turgon said, “Idril, you worry overmuch. Now come and finish your sewing. You must learn to obey your nanny and learn your manners. Now that Aredhel is gone you cannot hide behind her skirts and talk moonshine. You are the Lady of Gondolin now and my heir.”
But the stubborn and distressed child tossed the needlework out of the tower window and replied, “King-craft does not include sewing exercises!”
“Idril, if you insist that you are not a little girl than you must act like an adult. Then I shall treat you like one!” Turgon was quickly running out of patience. “I think it was not just Aredhel’s influence that has affected you, but you are of the same blood. That is unfortunate, for that cannot be helped. You shall now walk down the stairs, go outside, and fetch that needlework and complete it! There are many things besides king-craft that you need learn! Your succession is not written in stone! You would do well to remember that!”
“Why, because I do not care for sewing? And why must I prove that I am like an adult? Why should you not prove to me that you are an adult! I have seen adults throw peevish tantrums more severe than babies and commit acts that make no sense at all, but they are not children simply because they are bigger! I have never seen you sew!” Idril accused. “Sew me a fine cloak and tell me how it aids you in matters of state and then I shall consider taking up the menial task!”
Turgon was absolutely stunned at such belligerence and amazed at the advanced words tumbling smoothly from the child’s mouth. He wondered where she had learned the vocabulary. If he were not so angry and shocked, he would have been bristling with pride. He was so enraged that he left the room and Idril looked down at her feet and controlled her breathing to calm herself, a trick she had learned. Then she called for a servant to bring her food and invite her language tutor in. She had now proved her point and vented her frustration. It was no longer practical to withhold food and ignore the humdrum that awaited her.
“Auntie taught me better than this,” she said to herself.
*******
Engner was satisfied with the company’s progress. He contentedly sipped some wine from his water skin as he studied his map earnestly. He tried to see if Turgon had marked any shortcuts for him and was pondering whether he should attempt some of the shortcuts that only the most skilled of trackers knew of. The company had made good speed thus far, but he knew that the White Lady was eager to reach her destination as soon as was possible.
He also wished to avoid the coming winter, and he could not afford any suspicions and misgivings on her part. His worst fear was that there would be a snowstorm that caused them delay. He had packed as much food and firewood as was reasonable, but the weather was a fickle thing, and Yavanna’s wrath could be provoked for the slightest offense to her and her creatures. This was the season for her outbursts, and already frost instead of dew was upon the grass when Engner awoke early in the mornings.
As he was coming to a decision, the White Lady came and sat down beside him. Fortunately, Engner was a tracker, trained to hear the most subtle of sounds. He had barely enough time to conceal his map. Then he put on a business-like face and greeted his stubborn client warmly.
“Lady! What a pleasant surprise! I would have thought that you had taken yourself to bed! We cannot slacken our pace for a maiden’s comfort!”
She gave him a sharp look and answered, “I am no little maiden. Set any pace you like, Master Tracker, and I can match it. I was unable to fall asleep, and I came to ask about our itinerary. What is it, then?”
Disconcerted by her defensiveness and wondering how best to answer her question, he fumbled with his water-skin.
“Is that wine?”
She smiled such a luminous smile that Engner could only return it. So far their entire journey, Aredhel had maintained a severe disposition and never smiled once. Now that she was smiling, she became suddenly even more beautiful. He understood for a moment what all the fuss was about among the bachelors of Gondolin. She reached out for his water-skin, and he gave it to her, blushing.
“Yes, it is wine,” he confessed.
“What kind?”
“White, from my father’s vineyards.”
“Really?” her smile broadened. “I shall have to steal a few sips from you, then. I am afraid that I have a terrible weakness for white wine.”
“You are welcome to drink as much as you like, my Lady,” he said. “You have my consent.”
She took a long draught and thanked him in a low voice. Then she began to inquire about the road again.
“You need not concern yourself about the road, Lady,” he reassured her. “I know a short cut that will cut the time to Hithlum in half.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye,” he said confidently.
She gave him a dark look and said, “Could you tell me where we are now? You must forgo your secrecy with me, Tracker.“
“Where we are will not matter in a few hours,“ he said curtly. “I suggest that you use this time to rest.“
Aredhel said dryly, “You honestly believe that I do not know where we are or that you would have it so? I saw the map that you attempted to hide from me. We have dozens of maps with us. Why should you need one more that you will not allow anyone else to see?”
So she had seen him stow away the map, or perhaps she had been watching him silently as he pondered it.
“I do not doubt your intelligence, Lady,” Engner answered with the greatest caution. “But I do not wish you to burden yourself with the matter of the road. That is my area. Besides, you have never been outside of Gondolin, how could you possibly know-”
“I was not born in Gondolin like you, pup, and I can read maps as well as you, if not better. I am not ignorant of topography. We are in the Brithiach, Engner, and now may I suggest a new course?” she interrupted.
“What would that be?” he asked quietly, amazed and angry.
“Turn South, not North.”
Engner sprang to his feet, “Why! Whatever for? Fingon and his kingdom is to the North and we have already come so far-”
“I will not ride to Hithlum,” she insisted.
“What!”
“My first intention was to find the Sons of Fëanor, not Fingon! Though he is my elder brother and I love him well, I would be worse off in his halls than ever I was in Gondolin! I did not understand my brother’s wisdom, that I would be safer in the North, nearer to the Enemy! Fingon was ever harsh with me in my youth, no more than a brother should be, but we were never close. Celegorm is my kinsman, and we were never apart in the early years and I have not laid eyes upon him in ages.”
“But if you would have us turn back now and visit the Kinslayers, you would be defying the King’s orders!”
“Hold your tongue when you speak of my kin, Master Tracker! I am not committing an act of treason! I promised my brother nothing, and Turgon gave me leave to go wherever I desired so long as I did not endanger Gondolin. I shall visit Fingon, but after I have been with the rest of my kin. Therefore, if he ever believes that I deceived him, I shall have kept my word in part.”
“We shall go nowhere other than where I was ordered so long as I am your guide under the command of King Turgon!”
“You will listen and obey, knave!” she cried, and she seemed to grow tall and menacing as the volume and inflection of her voice rose steadily. “Even if you were a nobleman, your word is nothing against mine! You are no Elvin-lord! You have no power, and certainly no more than Ecthelion or Glorfindel, our companions. You are but a commoner and stooped even lower so by tracking wild beasts and bearing dull messages to and fro. Turgon is not here, and even if he were, he and I are evenly matched. I am the Lady of Gondolin, sister to the King and daughter to the king before him! Do you deny my royal heritage?”
“No, of course not!”
“Then obey me as you would the King!”
Engner recovered himself and said calmly, “I was warned of your stubbornness, Lady, and I will not submit so easily to it.”
They debated fiercely for several minutes more, and Ecthelion and Glorfindel and the others awoke at the sound of their voices, wondering what was going on and when they would set out. Their answer came when Engner finally stumbled away in wrath to find firewood. There was no dissuading the will of the White Lady. When he returned, he drew out the map to decide which way would be safest to Himlad. It may rob them of precious time, but the least he could do was assure the King’s sister’s safety.
They turned south, as Aredhel had commanded, and they sought admittance into Doriath. It was the safest way that Engner knew of to cut into Himlad. Any other way would mean too much delay or would pose a risk to the company. Their kin dwelt there, but they were not of their kind.
The Sindar was a branch of the Eldar that dwelt in Beleriand and ruled a vast majority of the land, and Doriath was a small part of King Thingol’s realm. Thingol was a powerful monarch, and he had little love for most of the Noldor. There was doubt that he would allow them to step foot upon his land, for he would call it trespass and drive them away for certain.
A great uneasiness was upon the riders when they approached the borders of Doriath, knowing that they were being watched from the trees. But Aredhel rode with her head held up high as befitting her station and cried out in a clear voice so that all the birds perched upon their branches took flight and the forest creatures stirred.
There was a moment of complete silence and stillness. Though the animals had fled noisily, the Wardens of Doriath were soundless as they moved about through the trees. Engner expected a dart in his back at any moment, for he could feel disapproving eyes upon him. When he looked about in alarm, however, there was nothing to be seen or heard but the rustling of leaves and the hoarse whisper of the wind. The Wardens of Doriath were famous for their art of concealment and accuracy with the bow. The feeble-minded might have believed that they somehow enchanted themselves and shifted into the shape of the stuff of the woods, rock, bough, leaf, and acorn. Others were convinced that they could make themselves invisible with sorcery, but that was a fantasy. Magic was no match for skill.
At last the birds returned to their branches, thinking the commotion had ended. The tension was so great that Engner and the others dared not move. They knew not what word of salutation they should utter. But Aredhel spurred her horse forward, undaunted. She knew there were guards amongst the trees, or upon parapets somewhere, or perhaps hidden beneath the earth, but they could not harm her without reason. If she trespassed, they could not punish her because she had had no warning as yet.
“Daro! ” came a harsh command from the trees, sending the birds in flight once more with the sudden sound.
“Elen síla lúmmen umintílmo! ” Aredhel answered.
Two Elves sprang from parapets in the trees and raised their bows warily, arrows already fitted to the string. One was dark-haired and tall with gray eyes that were bright and keen. He was Mablung. The Elf beside him was golden-haired and beautiful with strikingly blue eyes. He was none other than Beleg Strongbow, famed in later days to have been the greatest archer of all time.
“You must not come any further,” Mablung spoke. “You are only a furlong from the Girdle, and if you step through it, you shall become lost and fall into a dark sleep that you cannot wake from.”
“But we only seek admittance into Doriath in order to lessen our journey’s length and peril. Can you not guide some weary travelers through the Girdle of Melian?” Engner begged.
“We know you Noldoli,” Beleg said. “One can always tell by your eyes. We know also your names. I must ask why the White Lady Aredhel has come so far south from Hithlum.”
“I am exactly who you say I am,” she answered, “and I am not journeying to Hithlum but to Himlad.”
Their eyes narrowed at the mention of that place, for they knew who dwelt there. The Sindar had even less love for the Sons of Fëanor than the Noldor.
Mablung said, “Do you not know the laws of this land? Surely the daughter of a king should.“
“Of course,“ Aredhel was beginning to get angry.
“Did not Thingol once say: into Hithlum, the Noldor have leave to dwell, and in the highlands of Dorthonion, and in the lands east of Doriath that are empty and wild. But elsewhere there are many of my people, and I would not have them restrained of their freedom, still less ousted from their homes. Beware how you princes of the West bear yourselves! Into Doriath none shall come but only such as I call as guests or those that seek me in great need.”
“We do not seek to dwell in your lands,” Aredhel explained. “We ask only to use the Road and avoid the winter that chases at our heels. There is no other way that is quick enough to outrun the season, and none without its own perils.”
But Mablung denied her and said, “You may by no means pass through the Realm of King Thingol. You must ride beyond the Girdle to the south, or to the north. I care not which way you choose. The speediest way is by the paths that lead east from the Brithiach and through Dimbar and the north-marches of this kingdom until you pass the Bridge of Esgalduin and the Fords of Aros and come to the lands behind the Hill of Himring. There dwell, as we believe, Celegorm and Curufin, but the brothers are often absent from the place in times of war, and the road is perilous.”
“But that is such a long way!” Engner and Aredhel cried as one.
“That is the only road to Himlad, my Lady. The only other would be through Ered Gorgoroth, and it is a truly evil place,” Beleg said courteously. “Even such fellows as Ecthelion and Glorfindel here could not guard you from the monsters that were bred there during the darkest hour of our world’s creation.”
“We are truly sorry that we cannot help you,” Mablung added.
“May I implore your glorious lord that he accept me as his guest for a night, then?” Aredhel suggested. “For my brother and I are on good terms with him, in so far as I know. Never have we denied him anything, and we are far from his lands and do not seek to steal them from him. We have received every intention of friendship from King Thingol. Would he turn the White Lady of Gondolin, sister of King Turgon, away and send her from his gate like a beggar without the slightest concern of what befell her upon the road?”
“Would Turgon be so generous with one of our own people if one of them came knocking at the very gate of Gondolin?”
Aredhel was stricken dumb by that impertinent but valid comment. She knew that if King Thingol himself came to Gondolin’s gates with no more than the desire to ease his journey to some distant land, he would be turned away for the sake of secrecy. Doriath was no less stringent with its rules in order to protect the Hidden Kingdom, and there were laws that were as sacred to them as they would be to the Golodrim, and the Sindar treated anyone of Noldoli descent with suspicion because of the Sons of Fëanor. There was nothing she could say to persuade these wardens. They were as sincere in their resolve as the standing trees.
“Very well, Wardens of Doriath,” she said at last, defeated. “We shall go on our way. I shall find another course that is not impassible to us. Send King Thingol my regards.”
“We shall indeed, Lady. Farwell, and safe journey to you!” they replied.
Then they climbed back up into the trees, and Aredhel and the others turned away. When they had put several leagues between them and the border of Doriath, they held a congregation to decide what was to be done now that the Wardens of Doriath had rejected them.
“Perhaps we should turn our course to Hithlum,” Engner said. “We are a little out of our way, but-”
“No!” Aredhel intervened. “If I were to go there before I had the chance to see my kin, I would never have another opportunity! Fingon loathes the Sons of Fëanor with his whole being. He would never allow me to leave his court if he knew that I desired to see them again!”
“Then what does the White Lady suggest we do?” Ecthelion demanded. “There is need of us in Gondolin, and I have no love for your beloved Celegorm any more than Fingon.”
“You have little love for anyone but yourself,” Aredhel said acidly.
The two of them glared at each other.
“The winter shall not wait for us,” Glorfindel reminded them all quietly. “The worst thing that we could allow to happen is to still be in the middle of our journey and far from aid when winter rages.”
“Already you have delayed, seeking to trespass into Hidden Kingdoms and demanding special treatment from your brother’s allies for his own sake,” Engner ranted. “I know in my heart that Turgon would be outraged that we brought you to the Sons of Fëanor. You will likely reveal the location of Gondolin to them and have a good laugh over it!”
“How dare you!” she hissed at him. “How dare you!”
“Turgon may never let any of us return to Gondolin, or he may forfeit our freedom and our lives!”
“Enough!” Aredhel said with finality. “We must make camp and decide in the morning if there is no other way.”
*******
“Tell me, Engner, how are our supplies?” Aredhel asked.
“We have a rather ample amount, but I do not know if we have enough to last us if we are to take the Warden of Doriath's’ advice,” he replied. “We must reduce our rations to a more meager portion from here on. If there is a blizzard and we are forced to take refuge for a while, it shall not be enough.”
“You do not know of any other way?”
“No. No I do not.”
“What of Ered Gorgoroth? Was that not an option? Has anyone ever used the pass?”
“No one but the bravest and most foolhardy!” Engner said. “I have entered the place once, and I do not care to do so again. It is far too perilous, and if it had been up to our own decision, we would have gone any other way. We were forced to take that path because Orcs were upon us.”
“So far south?” Aredhel was very interested. “And what did you encounter in Gorgoroth?”
“Horrors that I cannot begin to describe,” Engner said curtly. “I would rather not speak of it. Looking back, I would say that we should have taken our chances with the Orcs.”
“Is it not true that the way through the Ered Gorgoroth would bring us all the more swiftly to Himlad? We do not have to turn direction at all afterward!”
“Nan Dungortheb is called by another, more accurate name. The ravines of Nan Dungortheb are named the Valley of Dreadful Death, and the mountains of Ered Gorgoroth are called the Mountains of Terror. The paths of Dungortheb are the least trodden, for too many of those that risk that path are never seen again. It is there that the power of Sauron and the power of Melian the Maia herself meet and form together to make creatures of such horror and monstrosity that it might darken the sun to speak of them. There are creatures that are even more ancient than the valley itself. Only a fool would go there.”
“I would.”
“What!”
“You reassure me that these supplies will last us back to the Brithiach, through Dimbar, and past the Bridge and the Fords!”
“I will not guide you through that place!”
“Then I will go alone.” They stared daggers at each other until she said, “I do not wish to argue any longer. We must compromise somehow. I shall go hunt, and if I catch something we take the paths that I choose. If I fail, then we shall take the long way. Agreed?”
“Very well, but I do not see how a maiden such as you shall catch anything here,” he scoffed. “There are few animals to begin with, and it takes great skill to bring them down.”
“You doubt my prowess as a Huntress?” Aredhel’s eyes flashed.
“Hunting is long and weary work.”
Aredhel turned away from him and strayed forth from the company, a determined set to her jaw. When she returned from the cover of the trees, Engner was startled to see her in a male’s breeches and a short, sleeveless tunic. Her hair was tied back in a crude pony-tail, and she carried a bow and quiver of arrows. Instead of the plain and quite boring shoes common for maidens, she wore sturdy, knee-high boots.
“Should you not cut your hair as well?” Engner said in disgust. “You might as well. You have completely unsexed yourself! Besides, a hunter never grows their hair out too long, else it would blow into their faces and ruin their aim.”
“Ready the fire,” she said. “I shall return soon.”
“Yes, Milady.”
Engner laughed until it felt as though his sides would split. But Glorfindel and Ecthelion were piling up wood and setting fire to kindling. He glared at them, knowing what a waste it was to burn up any of their supplies. They were rather swift to obey the White Lady’s orders. They kept their eyes upon their tasks. Ecthelion began splitting apart logs with his hands, as any of the Eldar could.
“Why are you doing that?” he asked. “Do you really think she will bring something back?”
“You do not know the ways of women-folk, my young friend,” they answered. “And certainly not those of the White Lady and Huntress Aredhel Ar-Fenial.”
Then Engner was silent and gave their words more weight. He recalled some courtly gossip that both of them had been avid suitors of the king’s sister and had ultimately failed to win her heart. Ecthelion had been flatly refused, and Glorfindel’s task was proven impossible. What was it? Thinking hard, he remembered that it had been to best her hunting prowess. Perhaps she was truly a skilled Huntress and not just a braggart calling a bluff. He hoped that she would return empty-handed. Not only would it save face, but he dreaded traveling into Nan Dungortheb. He doubted that even with the great lords of Gondolin by their side, they could chance it.
Several hours later, Aredhel appeared, dragging the large carcass of a deer. She cast it to Ecthelion, and he promptly began to skin it as Glorfindel prepared the cooking gear. The White Lady packed away her bow and quiver and began to clean her hunting knife that had delivered the final blow to her prize. Engner could scarce believe his eyes. The deer was a great male with horns sharp as swords. He had never taken an animal like it of such size.
“Why are you just standing there, Engner?” Aredhel said. “Even the deer did not freeze and stare so before I slew it.”
Engner and Glorfindel laughed good-naturedly.
“The others are helping to cook us a meal, perhaps the best that we shall ever have while we are upon the road. I hunted the creature, you must aid in its preparing if you wish to eat.”
Engner sat grudgingly beside Ecthelion and began slicing chunks of meat for storage. He was thoroughly humiliated and very unsatisfied. They had enough meat to last them the journey to Himlad, if they went Aredhel’s way.
“In Himlad, Celegorm is always hunting,” she told her companions. “Himlad has a vast amount of forested land. It is a hunter’s paradise. He provides for his table with his own game. Anywhere else, meat is seldom consumed and reserved only for holidays. Not in Himlad! There is meat every night. The halls are decorated with stuffed beasts and the soft furs of animals. Celegorm uses their bones as plates and utensils, skulls as bowls, horns as glasses, and hides as water-skins. Nothing is wasted, as it should be.”
“Does he drink their blood as well?” Engner asked blatantly.
She gave him a cold, hard stare and replied, “Of course not, for too much of it would make anyone very ill. It is almost like poison and can even kill.”
After the meal, he strode away from the company and cast aside his clothing. Then he dunked himself into the stream nearby. Aredhel came to seek him out. Her triumphant laughter sounded strange from under the water, for they could not drown out sound. He tried to hide quickly. Though the water was not clear enough to reveal his nakedness, the White Lady’s eyes upon him in such a state was enough cause for his shame.
“You do know what this means?” she said. “I proved that I am a Huntress and proved you wrong.”
“Aye,” Engner sank to his knees, still uncomfortable.
“Tucking your tail between your legs, are you?” Aredhel said in a devious whisper, her eyes dancing.
“You are no lady! And you are still in a male’s clothing. You seem to have no modesty at all!”
“High-born, yes,” Aredhel began taking delicate steps into the water and closer to him. Fortunately, she did not discard her clothing. “A lady, I am not, but I still have my modesty, Engner. Would you prefer me in a ‘female’ clothing? I think not. I know you males, even more so when I wear your garb and walk your ways. You would infinitely prefer to see me sky-clad. Admit it.”
Feeling even more awkward, he turned his back to her, involuntarily trying to cover himself even though he was safe. Aredhel enjoyed putting him into his place and taking advantage of his awkwardness. She waded towards him and placed her hands upon his bare shoulders and pressed herself against him. For an Elf and one so young, he was rather broad-shouldered and had lean muscles. With a sharp intake of breath, he tore himself away and swam several paces from her. His body had responded to her deliberate advances.
“Is your blade sharp?” she asked, her voice once again serious.
“Such disgusting filth from the mouth of one so high-born!” Engner’s voice trembled with anger.
“And such a dull and filthy mind even from one so low-born!” Aredhel retorted. “I am talking about your sword!”
The edge vanished from his voice, “It is common steel, sharp enough, I suppose.”
“Well, go and whet it. We set out tomorrow and you may have need of it.”
“We will not!”
“You lost the bet. You must be true to your word!”
“It is against the King’s command!”
She swam towards him and splashed him. He was so irate that he forgot his awkwardness and clutched her. He was sorely tempted to drown her. She was laughing and soaking wet. Rivers of water dripped from her long dark hair. She had loosened it after the successful hunt. Her blue eyes were shining, and her white skin was luminous and lustrous when wet. He realized that she was not an angry stranger or a duty that he had failed to his King, but a very beautiful maiden. He forgot Turgon utterly for a moment as he looked upon her. And since he wanted to make her as angry as possible, and also because he wanted it, he kissed her. She pulled away and cried out with rage as he laughed.
“You shall not touch me again, Tracker!”
“I do not plan on it,” he replied. “But remember it was you that touched me first. We shall have it your way, but do not say later that I did not warn you.”
********
Engner cannot be blamed for his feeling of trepidation as the company came near the land of Nan Dungortheb. Their road was between the valleys of Ered Gorgoroth and the north fences of Doriath, but Dungortheb was too close for his comfort. Ecthelion and Glorfindel must have felt it too. There was a menace about that place. Aredhel, however, seemed undaunted and as determined as ever.
“Be careful not to stray far from the road,” Engner told the company. “Note this, Aredhel! There are beasts there that drink blood and have a thousand eyes while the shadows have only one. It creeps up upon you so that no one has seen its full horror and lived to tell the tale.“
“A creature with a thousand eyes that drinks blood?“ Aredhel mused. “I should like to catch one. It would make a fine trophy to boast of when we reach Himlad and prove the existence of such things.“
Engner ignored her buoyancy and continued, “It is a breeding ground for evil things, and the land itself is dangerous. It is full of ravines and sharp rocks. There is no proper food and the waters are poisoned. Since it is so close to the volcano, the ground is unstable. Several explosions and rumblings may occur unexpectedly.”
“And the air smells of sulfur,” Aredhel added. “You have trod the ravines of Nan Dungortheb, fleeing from Orcs as though they were Balrogs. It seems that you survived, why should not we?”
“I have trod a few leagues of it with my teacher,” he answered. “Enough for me to get an idea of its geography. Travel in a small pack in this place for too long, and death inevitably finds the adventurer. The horror stories inspired by this place are enough reason to use such extreme caution.”
“Shall we camp here?” Glorfindel asked.
“It seems safe enough,” Aredhel said, “and I am anxious to rest before we set out.”
“It seems safe,” Engner said, a little too sharply. “Let us hope it is.”
All seemed well as dusk fell, and afterward when night descended upon them. But Aredhel awoke during the night to the screaming of some wild animal in the distance. It was a dying animal, no doubt. Many years of hunting had taught her the sound of death. Her breath came out as steam in the cold night air. Darkness engulfed them all, and the chill was in her bones. The fire had been neglected. Only white ash was left of the roaring fire they had built before they slept. Engner said the fire would keep away the creature with a thousand eyes, hopefully.
No one had taken watch that night. Ecthelion and Glorfindel were sleeping in their furs, unperturbed. They slept like children. Engner had insisted that he could go a fortnight without sleep, and so he had allowed them all to rest, for they were all highborn. It was not fitting that he should get more shut-eye than they. Well, he was nowhere in sight now.
Ridiculous young pup, Aredhel snorted. What is he trying to prove with such a show? One of those creatures might have come upon us all in our sleep. Where is he now, this brave tracker?
Perhaps he had finally lost patience with her. She could not blame him, for though it was never her intention to drive him off, she felt she knew the lands better than he and had not asked Turgon for a guide to dog her every step and spy for him. All she had asked for was a small escort to see her safely, as though she could not defend herself! Instead, her sweet brother had thrust Engner upon her as some cruel jape. If he was gone, she was glad. Ecthelion and Glorfindel would obey her every command. They were lordlings and males. They were easy to bend to her will. She was tempted to shake Ecthelion awake and send him for fodder for the fire, but she thought that unwise. She knew from experience that the Lord of the Fountains was ill-tempered when woken from his sleep, and Glorfindel would want to go searching for Engner immediately. She would fetch whatever she could find in this desolate place for the fire herself.
Slowly, she rose from her blankets. Her joints were stiff from sleep upon the ground. Once, she might have slept as well as a newborn upon the bare earth. She had been parted from Nature for far too long. How many times had she slipped away from her home in her youth to meet Celegorm and camp under the stars, pointing out the known constellations and inventing their own?
She drew out one of the lamps that the Noldor were famed for. Neither wind nor rain could quench them. The fire was imprisoned in a mysterious blue crystal, and Aredhel was grateful for its pale beam. She walked several furlongs from her camp and searched in vain for shrubs or twigs. She walked a little farther and realized that she had crossed into the borders of Nan Dungortheb. The others were far away now and there was clearly nothing out here to make a fire.
She turned to return to the camp, but then she heard a strange clicking sound behind her. She dropped her lamp in alarm and it rolled away into a wide crevice of rock, the light fading and vanishing. It must have been a very deep crevice. She groped and stumbled in the dark for it for a moment, then thought better of it as the clicking sound became louder and nearer. She tried to flee, but she was too slow. A large black shape, indeed the monster with a thousand eyes, sprang with a venomous hiss from the top of the ravine. She drew her sword by instinct and crouched low, wondering if she could fit into that crevice. It reached for her before she could test it herself, and parried and thrust at the creature desperately. It was surprisingly swift for its size, dodging her and then springing forward with its pincers. It clutched her in its grasp, squeezing until she could hardly breath. She let out a scream and tried to stab her way to escape, and the creature let out another hiss and thrust its own weapon, a stinger, at her throat. Darkness overcame her.
Engner heard her cry and dropped the roots he had been digging up for the fire nearly a mile away. He had taken no lamp or brand of flame, thinking it wiser to use the darkness for cover since it was only him. A lamp would not save him if something came upon him alone and would only attract unwanted visitors. Unfortunately, Aredhel had not thought of that. He rushed back to the camp, not daring to call out until he was near a blazing fire again. He reached the camp and awoke his companions, stripping the blankets from them and shaking them violently.
“Something has happened to Aredhel!” he could barely contain his voice at a whisper.
“Did she stray?”
“I heard her scream a moment ago. That cannot be a good sign!”
“In which direction?” they asked.
“That way! To the ravines of...” he faltered.
The two lords sprang to their feet. Glorfindel quickly began work on the fire while Ecthelion grabbed their weapons. Engner searched for their lamp and discovered that Aredhel must have taken it with her. He began to help with the fire. Once it sparked, they each took a burning brand and searched.
“Aredhel!” they cried, fire in one hand and swords in the other.
But the creature had drugged Aredhel so that she could not respond and was dragging her back to its den. It was one of the offspring of Ungoliant the giant Spideress. She had once been a Maia, but she allied with Morgoth and was responsible for draining the life and light from the Two Trees in the time before time. Her spawn did not devour light as she once had, but preyed instead upon Men and Elves whenever they could catch them.
The three elves soon spotted a beam of pale blue light. Engner reached inside a breach of stone and lifted out his lantern. Its light revealed Aredhel’s sword lying abandoned with dark black blood upon its edge.
“Aye Elbereth,” the lordlings sighed. “What does this mean?”
“It must have been the creature with a thousand eyes,” Engner said in despair. “It was something large with many legs. I cannot be certain how many by these tracks. She managed to wound it, but it has her now.”
He sat upon the shelf of rock and tears came to his eyes.
“She is lost.”
“No!” Engner said fiercely. “She is alive! I said it has her, but she is not dead. These creatures usually drug their victims and carry them off. We still have time. I can follow these tracks!”
“If you could, do you not realize that there are likely others? There are too few of us. We should have never come here. We must flee before more of those things come after us!“ Ecthelion said.
“If we left now with all haste, we might reach the borders of Doriath again. The Sindarin wardens would not allow us to enter their lands without dire need. We do not need shelter there anymore, but we could use their strength in swords. They may know how to handle these creatures, since they dwell so close. By tomorrow morning, we shall have allies. Aredhel may be dead by then, but there is a glimmer of hope, more so than if the three of us continued this search alone. If we are too late, at least we shall live to tell Turgon what became of his sister. He has a right to know, though we shall all be disgraced for failing her.”
“I will not go with shame before the king!” Engner answered.
“You only wish to save your pride, not his sister!” Ecthelion accused.
“I was chosen to guide the White Lady safely. That is true. But I care not for Turgon’s commands now. I have already broken them by letting Aredhel bring us here. But I cannot abandon her in this way! A horrible death awaits her!”
He strode forward and the Elves tried to hold him back, amazed at the change in him, for it had seemed to them that Engner harbored nothing but hatred for Aredhel in his heart. Now he was so determined to save her that they could not prevent him, and they were older and stronger then he was. They argued heatedly. Engner even drew his sword and threatened to kill them both. It was then that the lordlings realized they could not prevent him and decided to let him be. They offered him the lamp.
“It shall be of more use with you.”
Engner snatched it and spat, “Cowards!”
Glorfindel at least had the grace to blush. Ecthelion’s face was a cold mask. Engner turned his back on them and began the climb up the ravines. He tucked the lamp safely within the folds of his cloak and used his hands to grope forward. A good fire was enough to keep the creatures at bay, but a little lamp would only attract them. He glanced back at Ecthelion and Glorfindel and sighed.
I should have gone with them. I go now to join Aredhel, perhaps, but at least it cannot be said I abandoned her when I could have tried to save her. They are lordlings, they shall be forgiven. But I would likely be exiled if I returned.
As he climbed, the two lordlings hesitated. They had both loved the White Lady once, and their honor compelled them to follow their guide.
“This does not seem right,” Glorfindel said.
“Of course it is not right, but we cannot make it so.”
“You go on, I will follow Engner.”
“What? You would have me flee alone?”
Glorfindel was the first to grasp the stone wall, but before he could start the climb, several dark shapes appeared from pits and crevices in the rock. They did not notice Engner with his lamp stowed away, but they noted the Elvin-lords with their burning brands of flame and their shining helms and cloaks. They sprang down upon them, and the Elves drew their flashing swords and retreated. They barely escaped with their lives that night.
Engner might have laughed if it were not improper to do so as well as risky. Running was the only option the two had, most likely. The creatures had tough hides, pincers like scorpions, and deadly stingers that could kill or paralyze a victim instantly. He supposed he should thank them, if he ever had the chance. They had thrown the creatures off his track and exposed their den for him. He could only hope that he would not run into any others.
He entered one of the tunnels the creatures had come from. A foul stench hung in the damp air, and it was blacker than the night inside. He used his lamp to light his way and explored. This was a nest for the beasts, and a graveyard for any other living thing. Skeletons of all sorts of animals littered the floor. There were bones of Men and Elves and Orcs. Great webs barred his way from certain passageways, webbing that was thicker than rope. It was sticky and resilient, but fortunately Noldoli blades were the best in the land. His blade was able to cut through the tough cord-like webbing.
After searching for what seemed like hours, Engner began to despair. There was no sign of Aredhel, and he was hopelessly lost. The spiders would not be gone long from their murky den. They would likely return before first light, for they could not abide sunlight. They would be angry and hungry from the chase, unless they had caught Glorfindel and Ecthelion.
He decided to risk death and called for her. “Aredhel!”
He waited, his spirit low.
Then, beyond hope, he was answered by a strangely muffled voice, “Ecthelion? Glorfindel?”
He leapt to his feet at once, “Keep speaking and I shall find you. You sound very near!”
“Hurry!”
He came upon her at last, bound in webbing from head to toe and tethered to the den wall.
“Where are you?” she whispered.
“Right here.”
“Where? I cannot see anything!”
“There is nothing to see.”
“Who is there? Engner. Where are the others?”
“They fled, but who knows if the spiders pursued them to the last? There are none here, so I must assume they have a whole pack of them on their tail. The chances are not good. I pray that they escape.”
“You abandoned them?”
“They abandoned you!”
He reached out and touched the webbing. It was thick, and Aredhel was drowsy and sickly from the sting. There was little she could do to get herself out.
“I thought that I was dead when the thing poisoned me. Then I awoke and found myself here, and the thing was in my face. I had to look at each of its thousand eyes. Spiders! I always hated the damn things! It was about to sting me again, likely to begin the liquefying process, when there was noise outside. I called for you, and then it left me. So did the others. I suppose they do not trust to leave one of their own kind with their prey. The guard would likely take the spoils and let the others go hungry.”
“Luckily the creatures do not drink dead blood, nor do they have only one poison. I am glad they did not use the other upon you.”
He began to cut the strings and caught Aredhel as she fell, still paralyzed by the poison.
“I still cannot see!” she cried. “They blinded me!”
“Screaming about it will only thwart us!”
“How long will I be blind?”
“I am sure it will wear off in time.”
He lifted her in his arms and began to carry her. She moaned and laid her head upon his breast. He put the lamp in his mouth and retraced his steps as best as he could. Light fell upon their faces and they stepped out into open air again.
“It is good to get away from that smell!” Engner muttered.
But Aredhel pricked up her ears and whispered, “The spiders are returning! At least one is. I hear him!”
Engner sprang behind a boulder and set her down. He tucked the lamp away again. Then he gathered several large stones, ducked behind the boulder and lie in wait. The creature slipped into its den silently. Several moments later, they heard it scream and click with rage.
“The fly has escaped your net,” Aredhel said bitterly to herself.
The spider crawled out again, hissing with wrath. Engner aimed and cast a rock with all of his strength. It hit its mark, causing little damage but catching the spider off guard and off balance. It tipped over upon its side and Engner tossed his largest rock so that it fell into the ravine, a long drop. It twitched its legs and was still. Then Engner and Aredhel breathed a sigh of relief.
It was only a moment of respite, however. Engner lifted her upon his back and had to climb to the top of the ravine. There was no sense in going back now. The creatures would be waiting for them. He carried her as far as he could, then chose a site to rest. Only after he had a good fire going did he at last collapse with weariness.
“Can you see?” he asked her.
“I can make out shapes and forms. By tomorrow my sight shall perhaps be fully restored,” she said confidently.
“And can you move?”
She twitched her fingers and tried to stretch her limbs and raise her arms, but she could not.
“I can move my fingers, nothing more.”
“There is food enough to last us for three days. If we return to our camp we shall have enough for a fortnight. We shall have need of all that we can get, but you should take a morsel. I think you need it after the horrors you have faced.”
“Spare the food!” she said proudly. “I still feel ill and if I eat, I fear I shall only regurgitate it.”
“You will eat even if I have to stuff it down your throat!” Engner insisted. “And since you cannot move, you cannot resist me!”
“That is true, knave. How you must love this! Very well. I shall take a mouthful, nothing more.”
She opened her mouth and he gave her a heel of bread and a few drops of water. Sure enough, she retched a few moments afterward. Engner gave her water to rinse out her mouth.
“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?” she said bitterly.
“Not at all,” he answered. “I hate to see you in this condition.”
“I despise it all the more.”
Aredhel had never experienced such vulnerability and she was ashamed and humiliated. She had brought this suffering upon herself with her recklessness. She did not even know what had become of Ecthelion and Glorfindel. She always thought Ecthelion was too stiff and Glorfindel too meek, but she liked them both. She would never wish harm upon them.
Engner was also depressed and downcast. He wanted to wait for a few days in the hope that the rest of the company would find them. It was too risky to trek them back through Nan Dungortheb, especially since Aredhel was incapacitated still by the venom. But no one came. The others had either been slain or abandoned them. They would report to the king of their misfortunes, and Turgon’s mingled wrath and grief would be great. Engner wondered if he could ever return to Gondolin after this fiasco.
He sat upon a few stones in gloom. Aredhel had recovered her strength, as well as her wits. She crept beside him and took his hand.
“Do not despair,” she told him. “I am unhurt. All that was wounded was my pride because you saved me in time.”
“And what of the others? We may never know what became of them. I could have avoided this whole disaster. It was my duty to see us safely to Fingon. I have yet to pay the price.”
“This was my doing, not yours,” Aredhel corrected. “I would not be dissuaded. I manipulated you, so the blame is mine.”
“At least you are safe now, I suppose.”
He rose and lay upon the blankets. Aredhel hesitated, then joined him. He was astonished, but before he could protest, she spoke.
“I have not thanked you for rescuing me after the hell I have put you through. Now I shall.”
She brushed his cheek with a butterfly-light touch, then kissed him. Her lips went to his throat. And suddenly he found himself kissing her. His hands and lips seemed to move of their own accord, a fire in his flesh rushing through him. Aredhel’s skin was feverish to the touch. His shock and desire completely overcame him until she began to fumble with his belt. That was too much. He felt his loins responding and felt ashamed. He shook his head and pushed her away. Now she was astonished.
“What is wrong?” she demanded.
“That is no decent way to thank someone!”
“Then what if I told you it is not as much an expression of gratitude then it is of… passion?”
“You want something from me,” he said suspiciously.
“What do you take me for!”
“Am I supposed to believe that after all this time you said you despised me, this one act of loyalty has turned your heart? Others have done much and more to win you. How do I know you are not trying to manipulate me now?”
“Why should I? Am I not pleasing to you? Any other Elf would gladly welcome me to their bed!”
“That is true. Any Elf would welcome you, so long as they knew there was no cruel trick awaiting them.”
“There is no trick! I promise this is no ploy! I thought you felt… the same. I do not understand. Why else would you search for me when all the others had abandoned me?”
“Honor. Duty,” Engner spoke only in half truths.
“I do not believe you. Kiss me and I shall forgive your lies.”
He rose, saying as he walked away, “Cover yourself, my lady. This is entirely inappropriate. If Turgon knew that I had touched you, he would likely exile me, and I have already failed him. I will not betray his trust. The poison must have clouded your mind, my lady. Therefore, we will pretend this never happened.”
Furious, Aredhel covered herself and followed him, shouting, “Halt! I command you!”
He stopped in his tracks. She stood before him. She had never been rejected before, though she had rejected countless others. She was frustrated and torn. She had vowed never to wed or give herself to anyone for fear she would be consumed and lose a part of herself forever. She was now willing to break that oath for an elf that refused her, and that only made her love him all the more. He could resist her charms and battle wills with her. He was the equal she thought never existed. She had never felt anything more than passive attraction to anyone, seducing suitors she wanted favors of with chaste kisses and words. She had practically thrown herself into Engner’s arms. Her body had almost betrayed her, but she did not feel relieved.
“Kiss me,” she ordered. “You cannot refuse a daughter of Kings!”
“Yes I can.”
He kissed her hand with courtesy, though his heart and loins ached. Aredhel was tempted to demand more. She had the power to do so, but she would not abuse it. Instead, she hardened her heart and spoke steadily.
“Of course you are right. I do not know what I was saying. Let us leave this place and forget that this ever happened. It was a mistake. But I am still anxious to see Celegorm. No doubt he will welcome me gladly. I only wish I had arrived sooner. We shall tarry no more. Then you and I can avoid each other.”

They found themselves in Himlad at last without further incident. Aredhel’s spirits lifted at once, and the servants recognized her upon sight and received her with the highest honor.
“Where is my coz?” she asked eagerly. “I have something to show him and much to tell him.”
“I fear that our Master is absent, milady,” the servants answered. “Prince Celegorm is long abroad from home and returns when we least expect him. He was home several days ago, but departed to ride with his brothers Curufin and Caranthir. We do not know when he will return.”
Aredhel’s smile faded, “That is unfortunate. If only we had arrived sooner. I have not seen Curufin or Caranthir for ages. It would have been pleasant to ride with all three of the brothers.”
“We do apologize, milady,” the servants were sincere. “Our Master would have surely waited for you, but there was no word of your coming.”
“I could not make my intentions to come here known,” she sighed. “Now I wish I had sent some sort of message, if only in secret.”
“Well, we shall tend to your needs. You have come such a long way, and this winter is becoming worthy of record. It would be best if you did not travel again until spring. Perhaps by then Prince Celegorm will return.”
They settled into the guest rooms and were brought food and wine. Engner received his own quarters, much finer than he had expected, but he was most uncomfortable in the house of Celegorm. He was annoyed that after risking their lives and his honor to arrive in Himlad, they had come only to an empty house. What was more, Celegorm was known to wander for a period of months to years. Who knows? He may never return.
“What are we to do now?” he asked of Aredhel.
“We shall do as the servants advise,” she answered. “Dwell here until my kinsman returns.”
“I advise that as soon as it is possible, we depart to visit Fingon as the King first intended. Celegorm is not here and we are wasting our time.”
“We shall wait and then we shall see.”