Part 8 The Fall of Gondolin

Maeglin returned to Gondolin speedily with his small fortune and presented it to Turgon and spared much to the city itself. He also began to walk about the city with a smiling face and laughed easily. He snapped at his servants less and became pleasant even to Tuor.
At Council several days after his absence, Maeglin, for the first time, took a seat beside Tuor and spoke softly to him.
"How is my godson?" he asked.
"He kept us awake last night with a cough," Tuor answered, pleasantly surprised. "Idril and I feared it was the whooping cough, but he seems to have fully recovered. The healers could find nothing wrong this morning. We were quite relieved."
"That is good to hear," Maeglin said. "Tis the season for such coughing. Perhaps there was simply something in the air that did not agree with the child. I would inform the servants to wash his blankets and clothes well and keep his nursery as free of dust as possible. They say that silver has purifying qualities. Give the boy this rattle. It is merely coated in silver, but perhaps that will be enough. I would give him a ring or necklace if he were older. For now, let this gift from his Uncle suffice."
He handed Tuor the rattle. It was a very simple toy but coated in silver, just as he described, and still light enough for an infant to shake and play with.
"Thank you, my lord. It is a generous gift."
Maeglin's usual gifts for Earendel were blankets, sweets, and wooden caricatures, never anything so valuable as this rattle. Regardless of whether or not the old wives tale was true about the silver, Maeglin's concern for the babe's health was touching and seemed genuine.
"I feel that I have never properly apologized for some of the things I have said, Tuor," Maeglin clenched his jaw and grimaced. "Next time you pry yourself from the clutches of your wife and child, allow me to buy you a cup of hot wine to keep away the chill of the season?"
"Aye, I would very much like that, my lord," Tuor smiled. "There is nothing to forgive."
"You can call me by my name, kinsman," Maeglin found it incredibly easy to force his smile this time.
The people marveled that he had learned to curb his prejudice at last and found his new-found cheer quite refreshing. A few wondered what had happened to him to cause such a turn around. Most credited his new found claim in the mountains that he frequently returned to. The prince hinted that he was working upon another innovation like his father's galvorn or perhaps something stronger still than his previous steel. He felt he had a purpose to his life again and took joy in his work and admitted he had been unsatisfied before. He doted upon his godson in public and called Tuor his brother. King Turgon beamed with pride whenever he looked upon his nephew once more and regretted only that Maeglin had not yet taken a bride of his own. Some of the prince's former lovers wanted to give him a second chance and came calling at his door, but Maeglin did not seem interested in courtship. He was too engrossed in his upcoming masterpiece, he claimed, one that might require a lifetime of energy and work.
Idril found Maeglin's change in behavior highly suspicious. She wondered how he could have stumbled upon and amassed such wealth on his solitary trip, even if the stone had sung to him. He was secretive as always about his work so there was no proof of his so called 'masterpiece'. She caught him gazing at her more often with a predatory grin. Now that Maeglin knew it was only a matter of time before he could finally possess Idril and Gondolin, he was eager, bolder, and more confident in everything he did. It was easier than he thought it would be to play the part Morgoth assigned him.
"Soon," he told himself. "Soon everything I have ever wanted shall be mine."
While he was elated, Idril felt that a shadow had fallen over her heart yet no one else seemed disturbed and that frustrated her all the more.
Tuor and Idril were asleep in their bed. Earendel was in his cradle, sleeping soundly. But Tuor was awakened by the urge to relieve himself, then returned to bed. Now that he was awake he found it hard to doze off and he noticed that his wife was restless. Her sleeping habits had become erratic. She went days without getting a wink and then there were some days where she slept and woke only when Earendel cried and no one else could attend to him. Tonight she was tossing and turning. He realized she must be having a nightmare. He tried to shake her awake gently. As soon as he touched her, she screamed. She was screaming for him and for her son.
"Idril, I am here," he tried to soothe her. "It is all right. It was only a dream!"
She seemed to barely comprehend his words or her surroundings, "Where is our baby?"
Before he could answer she tried to leap from the bed and became entangled in the sheets and blankets. Struggling only entangled her more and she fell to the floor. Tuor rose and aided her out of her predicament and she rushed to Earendel's crib and lifted the babe to her breast. Luckily he had only stirred a little at the sound of his mother's cries and still slept, enjoying the warmth of his mother. Tuor placed his hand upon her shoulder and she sighed.
"I pray that his dreams are pleasant."
"Idril, what happened? Look at me."
He tried to look into her eyes but she kept her back to him. She feared if he saw the tears in her eyes she would break down sobbing. As long as no one saw them, they could not be seen as weakness. As long as no one saw, they did not exist. Tuor did not need to see. He could hear the distress in her voice and knew that when she was being evasive she was either on the verge of crying or had already begun.
"It must have been a terrible dream indeed to have done this to you," he said.
Idril hesitated. If she told him even a little, she would be forced to tell him all, no doubt. She placed Earendel back into his crib and began to explain, keeping her eyes low. She could not bear to look at Tuor. She had been hiding her feelings from her husband for too long now.
"You know of my thoughts of Maeglin, but you do not understand them. Well, in my nightmare, we stood together with Earendel upon the Caragdur. It is a cursed place that I would never be in waking life. Our only means of escape was blocked. It was there that Maeglin came upon us with his smiling face. He built a large and terrible furnace and the flames were scorching hot. The smoke and terrible heat overwhelmed us, but it did not harm Maeglin. He had full control of it. Bonds appeared upon my limbs and the smoke engulfed us all. Then Maeglin snatched up Earendel, our babe, and threw him inside the furnace. He just precariously tossed him into the flames! Then he shoved you in next as I stood witness to all this, completely helpless. Maeglin laughed, and even though that was the moment I awoke, I sensed that afterward he would have burned me alive too. For sorrow over the loss of you and that child, I would not have resisted."
Tuor was so disturbed that for a while he was speechless. "You fear Maeglin needlessly. He has never harmed us. He is family!"
"Needlessly!" now Idril was angry. "He is dangerous! He has wished you dead since first you came here. He hates our son and he will never grant me peace. He haunts my dreams. This is not the first time I have dreamed of him putting his hands upon me or hurting those I love. He even haunts my thoughts. He wants to rule Gondolin, the rest of the world, and he wants me."
"What do you mean he wants you? What do you mean he haunts you?"
Idril let out a strangled cry of rage and merely glared at Tuor. She loved this man with all her heart but sometimes she wished he was more observant. He was no more dense than anyone else in the city had ever been. She glared until slowly, painfully, Tuor began to comprehend.
"Maeglin wants you... But he is your own cousin!" Tuor was shocked and revolted. "How could he possibly have such feelings for you?"
"I have told you many times that he is twisted. In the name of Varda and Nienna, have you never noticed the looks he gives me or how I have ever reacted when he so much as brushed his hand upon mine?"
Tuor let out an anguished cry. Suddenly he remembered every instance Maeglin had harassed his wife. He remembered his japes and crude words at their wedding and the countless times he had witnessed Maeglin attempting to put his arms about Idril or to embrace her in friendly greeting, or take her hand, or rest his head upon her shoulder or breast, or plant a kiss upon her hair, cheek, or even the mouth, and how each time Idril had shaken him off or ignored him or turned away. What had he not been around to witness? How could he have dismissed the things he had seen or interpreted them any other way? If anyone should have noticed, it should have been him.
"I have been so blind!" Tuor said in despair. "My love, I have been such a fool..."
Idril raised her hand to silence him. It was certainly too late for useless apologies. Even if Tuor had noticed, it would have only made things worse. Tuor could not act against it, and Maeglin would have sensed Tuor's indignation and gained more pleasure in pursing Idril in what small ways he could.
"He has always been a subtle creature and for so long could do no wrong in the eyes of the people. That has changed little since then, and my father has not changed his opinion at all! He never reveals his true feelings, for they are always twisted. I hoped he would realize that his desire for me was some perverse thought that manifested in him when we lost Aredhel. I am enough like my Aunt that he may have seen some of what he lost in me. But I know now that it is not that simple. I felt uncomfortable the moment I saw him, hours before her death. If it was a madness brought on by grief, it would have passed by now. It never will."
"We must go to the king with this!"
"And say what?" Idril snickered. "That Maeglin would plot against you and wed me himself? He would not believe it and Maeglin would deny it. There is no evidence of anything I have told you. Lately Maeglin has become a hero to the people again and is back in my father's good graces. He never truly fell from his good graces anyway. We would only hurt ourselves."
"Surely if the two people he loves most cannot sway the king, what will? You and Turgon have been the ideal father and daughter these days. I thought he would never question you any more than he would question his nephew. He would never punish you for voicing your concerns."
"He does love you, Tuor, but he never heeded your warnings about Ulmo any more than he has ever heeded any of mine. I have gained my father's love and trust but I do not think it wise to test that and force him to choose between me and Maeglin. It would not be fair even if I was not almost certain he would choose Maeglin every time."
"Then what would you have me do?"
Idril thought upon that for a moment and replied, "We must prepare ourselves, not only against Maeglin, but whatever threat there is. Morgoth is the greater danger. I merely fear what Maeglin may do in the chaos created by the Dark Lord or that he will prey upon whatever instability there is in Gondolin to wrest power for himself and lead Gondolin to ruin when he becomes king. I will do whatever is in my power to prevent that. I advise then that you do what you have always done. Protect and serve my father and protect and love our son. But there is more we can do, and not just for ourselves. There are other little children in Gondolin and all the rest of the small folk to think of. Therefore, I suggest that you gather men about you that love you best and Maeglin the least. Among them should a skilled architect. With his help, we shall build a secret tunnel that leads out of Gondolin. We shall name it the Children's Tunnel and it shall serve the people, that they may be spared during the last moments before Gondolin falls. But its saving grace must be that it is kept secret until that time comes. Only those involved in its making should know. We may have little warning before the Enemy storms our gates, but it may be enough time to save many lives. Gondolin is impregnable, but it is also inescapable. The tunnel will give the defenseless ones a chance."
"Turgon-"
"Must not know!" Idril interrupted. "The fewer that know, the safer we will all be. I do not like keeping secrets any more than you do, especially from those that I love. It is also necessary to have your own Royal Guard as kinsman of the king. I shall get my father's favor to that. We currently have more servants than we should ever need. Surely he can spare guards."
Tuor groaned, "I do not want armed guards about me wherever I go. Do you not think that you might be reacting excessively?"
"Have you forgotten the words of Ulmo, Chosen One?" Idril's words dripped with sarcasm.
She sighed, realizing that she had taken undue offense. The two exchanged meaningful glances and apologized without words.
"Very well, Idril," Tuor conceded. "But such a tunnel may take years to dig."
"Let us hope that we have that much time then. And another thing, Maeglin has spies everywhere, but he can read much all on his own. I have always had to guard myself well so that he cannot sense my thoughts or feelings. It is as though I have a cloak upon my mind while others leave themselves bare. You are easy to read, Tuor. It is one of the reasons I love you, but such honesty and openness can be deadly. If you cannot cloak yourself as I do, not only will Maeglin be able to sense that you are hiding something and that you know as I do about his character, so will my father. My father will be hurt and demand we stop our work and complain that all we know of Maeglin is a mere misunderstanding. Maeglin will act against you and uncover whatever it is you are hiding. If you brim with anger whenever he comes near, he will return the hostility."
"I do not have your strength of will, Idril. I am but a mortal man."
"That has naught to do with it. You are of the House of Hador and now a prince in your own right two times over. You were enslaved once, but you did not allow the Easterlings to break you. You have strength of will, Tuor, you simply do not know how to use it to guard yourself. I can teach you. All you need is self control and the ability to clear your mind."
"Will I be able to read others and foresee events as you can?"
"That is another matter that cannot be taught. I do not know rightly how I do it myself."
Earendel awoke and began to wail. Tuor smiled and kissed his wife.
"Sleep. I shall stay awake with him tonight."
Idril kissed him back and lay down to sleep, resting much easier now that she had finally confessed all to Tuor and that something was going to be done, even if they could not openly act against Maeglin and could not anticipate when Morgoth would strike. But Tuor stood vigilantly by her side and his son long after both fell asleep. He was angry and filled with doubt. He knew he would have to be more mindful of Maeglin now and he would have to choose his allies carefully. He once thought he could trust everyone in Gondolin. He would have liked to remain blissfully unaware, but he needed to protect his wife and child. But he also thought of Turgon. He began to feel a wedge growing between them that had never been there before. He wondered how much more he would be forced to hide from his king.

Tuor began to gather his closest friends in the city as soon as dawn broke and Idril spoke to her father about a guard for Tuor. She did not even get a chance to finish her sentence. Turgon immediately assigned soldiers to the House of the Swans. They were excellent swordsmen and each swore a personal vow to protect the next generation of the Royal Family. They had their own uniforms, shields, and distinct helms crested with swan wings. The King also gave them larger apartments within the palace closer to his own and kept his promise about visiting his grandson every day.
Idril utilized the bodyguards well. She made certain at least two were with her husband and son at almost all times. She had them test their food. Her greatest fear was that Maeglin would poison them, especially since Eol had been so fond of poisons. But there was the possibility that that he might ambush them himself or send one of the poor fools he had corrupted to assassinate them. Tuor hated the unwanted company at first, but he agreed so that he could please his wife. As time passed, he became genuine friends with his men.
Voronwe was still his most trusted confidant, but there were many others that answered the call to aid Tuor. They consisted of about a dozen hardy Elves that were of mostly humble origin. Some of them were of the House of Swan and others included the smith Tuor turned to for repairs, their personal healer, and the rest included Engner and his workers. Naturally, Engner was essential to the whole project. Throughout his life he had studied Maeglin's movements and could identify the prince's allies and pinned those he was manipulating. There was much still he did not know. Maeglin by nature was scrupulous and calculating. It was his lackey Salagant that was not. Engner was also the main architect and took charge of the tunneling project. He ordered that the tunneling be done at night under cover of darkness and dug with small teams that would spend the night digging. These teams would be alternated as much as possible. The workers were sworn to secrecy and to Tuor's knowledge, the tunneling remained secret even from Maeglin's most observant moles.
Tuor was impressed with Engner's work. Despite such limitations and such uncertainty of the future, the tunnel was making fair progress. It would still take years until the tunnel reached into the plains, but Engner seemed as driven as Idril to finish as soon as possible without being exposed.
"You and my wife have always been rather close," Tuor said to him. "You were the lover of Lady Aredhel once and are staunchly loyal to King Turgon. So tell me: Why are you so devoted to all the members of the Royal Family save the one? What made you so suspicious of Maeglin?"
"I tried to love Maeglin, if only for Aredhel's sake," Engner answered slowly. "He is...uncanny. The moment I saw him I was struck by how much he resembled his mother, but something warned me that if even a small trace of his father was passed into him, he might be dangerous. I have watched him and have been disturbed by what I have been able to unravel about his past and his deeds within the city itself. I am sure by now you have come to discover some of it yourself."
"Aye," Tuor sighed. "I almost wish that I were oblivious."
Engner gave him a hard look, then softened and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "You must not allow Idril to suffer as Aredhel suffered. Promise me that you will do everything in your power to protect her. You may even be forced to fight Maeglin or break your oaths to Turgon."
"I pray it never comes to that!" Tuor was horrified at the thought.
"I failed to protect Aredhel from Eol. Do not forget your boy either. Maeglin only profits if harm should befall him."
Tuor took Engner's words to heart, but he felt uneasy. Tuor was not so certain he could betray his liege lord. Even if Turgon took Maeglin's side and was clearly in the wrong, Tuor had sworn an oath and he had always kept his word. When Gondolin was attacked, he would fight at the king's side to defend it, even if it proved to be a lost cause. He loved his wife and son and had no desire for self-annihilation, but he loved Turgon too and his sense of duty was powerful. He anguished every day enough because they were willfully keeping Turgon ignorant.
Though Idril's terror seemed to increase with every year, the reach of the Enemy seemed to wane. There were less reports of Orc activity, and the numbers continued to decrease. The Eagles saw no Wargs, crows, or any other winged or four legged scouts. Even the weather grew more pleasant. The summers became longer and the winters shorter. The harvest were more bountiful. Ever since the future queen's wedding and the birth of Earendel, and because Gondolin seemed to be experiencing a sort of golden age, there was an explosion in weddings and births among the people. Turgon cut security by half so that the soldiers could spend every waking moment they had with their new families.
Earendel grew speedily from an infant into a child, knowing nothing of the Shadow or of Maeglin's malice. He had every comfort available to him but was not spoiled. He loved his family and all his household and spent many hours at play with the other children, though they all grew at a much slower rate than he because he was Half-Elf. Tuor and Idril wanted to wait for Earendel to reach maturity before they explained to him what his fate would be, partly because they did not quite know themselves what his future may have in store for him. They tried their best to keep his childhood as normal as possible despite how different he was. The rest of the city treated him no differently either. The boy could not fail to notice he was more developed than his peers, but he was told that he was just growing up faster and it was no cause for alarm. He never outgrew his fascination with water and studied ships with Voronwe from an early age. He was a good swimmer and dreamed of sailing the Sea. He seemed far more interested in becoming a mariner or a scholar than a warlord, minstrel, politician, farmer, or even a smith. He kept a rather sweet disposition and easy temperament and his beauty was growing. He got along with everyone and was even fond of his 'Uncle Maeglin.' His only complaint was that his mother was over protective at times.
Idril tried hard to keep her defenses up in Maeglin's presence and taught Tuor to do the same as best as she could. It was a good thing. At times Tuor felt a stirring of murderous intent toward the prince whenever he sported his phony smiles or spoke of his wife and son. He did not stint at the idea of having to fight or even kill Maeglin. He noted every devious glance the prince cast at his wife now and felt his blood boil every time. He wanted to dispose of every gift he had ever given to Earendel. He could not let on that he suspected anything and Maeglin continued to pursue a false friendship that Tuor accepted cooly. Idril's training helped curb his temper as well as served to keep Maeglin from sensing that Tuor knew his game. Idril kept up her defenses in Maeglin's presence as well. She greeted him dutifully at court and social events. She even acted sisterly so that he would not suspect anything and in hope she could please him in what small ways she could.
Sometimes Idril still pitied Maeglin. She could never forget that they were indeed kin and loved both Turgon and Aredhel. Deep within Maeglin's dark heart there once had been pure light and sincere love for her. Perhaps, there was still love there and not just dangerous obsession turned violent and demanding. Perhaps all he truly wanted from her were kind, soft spoken words and a chaste kiss every once in a little while. Perhaps his feelings had become confused and muddled and she overreacted and had withdrawn too quickly and for far too long from him. Maybe she was to blame that he became starved and convinced he needed more from her. Perhaps there was time for him to change. Certainly now that she had a child of her own he would lose interest. She was no longer a maiden and was happy in her married life.
Of course she was trying to fool herself again and she knew it. Aredhel had once fallen into the same sort of trap trying to justify Eol's abuse. She thought it was some sort of divine punishment for taking her home and family for granted, and for giving so many of her suitors false hope. Then she decided it was her lot as a mother. Then she even convinced herself she could learn to love the beast and that he would change for the better and her suffering would be worthwhile. Idril could not repeat that mistake. Pity was enough for Maeglin. She must not dare to spare him any of her love.
It was fast approaching Earendel's seventh year. The Golodrim were convinced that the Enemy was exhausted from the Great Battles that had come before or that Morgoth had simply dismissed the tales of Gondolin as mere fantasy. In truth, there was no need of scouts or Orc mischief, nor had Morgoth dismissed Gondolin. He had Maeglin to inform him of all that occurred. In the meantime the Enemy was using all of their resources and manpower to build an army such as had never been before. Maeglin had the fear of Morgoth in his heart, a fear that all escaped thralls and double agents shared. He had looked into the eyes of the Dark Lord and seen more than enough of the Thrall Vaults to haunt him forever. Each year, he slipped from Gondolin to mine the mountains. It was in these mines that he met with the Messenger.
This year Maeglin entered the mine with his usual mix of emotions. The Messenger had no name and spoke with a whispering voice. Morgoth had once used the sorceress of Thurignwethil for such a purpose, but Luthien had destroyed her and even driven Sauron into exile. Not even his own Master could find any trace of his second in command. This Messenger must be some sort of sorcerer of the same race but less power. He wore a cloak and hood that he refused to remove. In truth he was once a former Maia of Lorien, the Vala of dreams and wisdom. Unlike his predecessors and his Master, he was of the philosophy that nothingness and mystery were far more effective than a terrifying form. If Maeglin had been daring and foolhardy enough to remove his cloak, only shadow would be there beneath the rags. He had never chosen a true form before or after he left Valinor and followed Melkor to Arda.
"Greetings, turn-cloak," he said in salutation.
Maeglin was annoyed at that but ignored the insult, "Let us get down to business, shall we?"
"Indeed," the Messenger could sense his unease anyway and was thoroughly amused. "You should be thrilled to know that this shall be your last report."
"What do you mean?" Maeglin could not hide his fear and wondered for a moment if he was about to become the betrayer betrayed.
"The Dark Lord is prepared to launch an attack very soon. He trusts that all has gone according to plan on your end?"
"Yes," Maeglin assured him. "I have Turgon completely hoodwinked. He suspects nothing and the people continue to revel and forget that there is even a world outside their walls. The numbers of the city guard have never been lower or more lax than ever. How soon will the siege begin?"
"You know better than to ask that. We cannot risk giving you the exact date, Elf."
"Am I still not trusted even now?" Maeglin spat in anger. "I have proven my loyalty and all but delivered a sure victory into Morgoth's hands!"
"It is enough that you know it will be soon. Now unless you have something more to report...?"
"If this is truly the last time I will have contact with Morgoth until his terrible horde engulfs the city, I need insurance. How can I possibly be certain that Idril will be brought to me unharmed and that my own life will not be at stake when the time comes?"
The Messenger handed him a large black iron coin. It was heavy and dense with demonic engraving. "Display this token should you encounter anyone of ours that threatens you. When they see it, they will know that you are under the protection of the Dark Lord himself and all those that are with you. You can even command them to do your bidding."
Maeglin took it and tucked it out of sight. "And Idril?"
"I would suggest you take her under your wing sooner rather than later."
Maeglin was still not satisfied but he knew there was nothing more he could possibly ask for. He hated that everything was now completely out of his hands.

"Earendel, come back here!" Idril shouted after her son.
"What is that building? I have never seen it before!"
"That is not a place for children, now come back here!"
Despite the fact that anger was beginning to creep into his mother's voice, Earendel slipped inside the tomb. She found him sitting in Maeglin's lap, and her heart sank.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Paying my mother a visit when this clumsy rascal stumbled and almost fell atop her sarcophagus," Maeglin answered, bouncing the child on his knee as he giggled.
"What is a sarcophagus?" Earendel asked. "Where is your mother? Why is this house so small and gloomy? Is it a little temple of some kind? Is the statue there of Varda?"
"This is not a temple. It is my mother's tomb. The statue is an image of her while she lies inside the sarcophagus, the stone box."
"The Lady Aredhel lies in eternal slumber, little one," Idril rushed to explain. "Tombs are where people go when they sleep the final sleep."
She knew he was much too young to understand these things, even for a human child. Most Eldar in Gondolin had managed to avoid the heavy subject of death all their lives. Aredhel's was the only tomb in the city. Those that died beyond the walls were buried very near wherever they fell which was usually a mass grave on the field or they were burned or laid out under cairns. She was more nervous that the three of them were alone in this tomb. Her guards had not kept too close and would not dare enter this most sacred place unless there was clear sign of danger. There was no immediate danger, but Maeglin was holding her son. That was enough to make her hair stand on end.
"Final sleep? If we knock on the big stone box will we wake her?"
Maeglin laughed dryly. "Would that we could. Final sleep means-"
"Her body is sleeping, but her spirit is elsewhere. Her spirit is in the Halls of Mandos. It can never return to this body but perhaps another. Eldar have that opportunity."
"What of father's kin? Men?"
"we do not know where they go."
"Do not know?"
"They do not return in the same form or go to the place Eldar go. That alone is known."
"Where will I go for my sleep?"
"I do not know. Perhaps you will have the choice given to you when you are older."
"But does that mean you and Ada and I will not sleep in the same place?"
"Earendel," Maeglin spoke before Idril could answer, "You are taxing your mother with such questions. Go find your soldier friends. I would like a word with your mother."
"Yes, Uncle."
The boy leaped down from his knee and ran out of the tomb. Idril was petrified. She had not been alone with Maeglin since the last incident in this very place. That single moment had haunted her for years. She wanted to bolt but Maeglin rose and pulled her into a sudden embrace.
"Oh, Idril!" he sighed in her ear. "I fear for Gondolin. I fear for the little ones. I fear for your son."
She jerked away and said, "Is that supposed to be some sort of cruel jape?"
"Coz, you hurt me. I am merely sharing my fears with you. Have you not also had a sense of foreboding?"
"You should speak to the king about such things. At court you have previously stated the city safer than ever."
"I deceive myself and others so that I do not cause unnecessary alarm. Such fear can drive the meek mad."
"Do not characterize it as fear or hysteria but as reasonable caution instead. Regardless, I do not see what your fears have to do with my son."
"Do you love him?"
"Of course!"
"And your husband?"
"I married him, did I not?"
"Would you become mortal like them? I ask because I do not think you should have to sacrifice yourself for them."
"I prefer to focus on the time I have been given with my family, not its lack. I will eventually have to make a choice, but today is not that day!"
"No, but that day may be approaching faster than you think, Idril," Maeglin said in a low voice. "I want you to know that you can live a life without them. You can still find love elsewhere, start a new family, and rule your kingdom with another. I am begging you to let them go for your own sake."
"My father is king and my husband and son are far from death's door even though they are, for the moment, mortal. Now stop speaking to me in riddles!"
"I only wanted to warn you. Their days are numbered and soon I will be your only salvation. Perhaps I can even protect your son."
"What are you talking about?" Idril demanded.
Maeglin turned away from her and began to exit the tomb, saying over his shoulder, "Should anything ill ever occur, remember what I said."
He left Idril puzzled and terrified. She fell into a dark depression and began to have nightmares again of Maeglin burning her family alive, but also of forcing himself upon her. She began to avoid bedding Tuor, bot because she did not desire him, but because she began to see Maeglin's face, not her beloved husband's, looming over her. She did not tell that disturbing fact, but Tuor knew. He was saddened, but he felt there was nothing he could do.
They stood upon the battlements and the wind was in their hair. Tuor thought Idril looked exceedingly beautiful and stooped to kiss her, but he stopped when he saw that her face was lined with sadness and her skin was cold and pale.
"What is it, Idril?"
"How much longer until the tunnel is finished?"
"It is almost a mile into the plain," Tuor said proudly.
"How much longer until it is entirely finished?"
"Perhaps a year would be my best guess."
She shook her head, "No, it must be sooner."
"Sooner?"
"Yes. We must start working round the clock and the word should be spread to the small folk of its existence. Should the city be attacked, Voronowe shall guide the women and children there. I feel the time is near."
"Are you sure? It is quite risky to start spreading rumors. The whole point of the tunnel was that it be kept a secret."
"I have never been more certain of anything in my life," she answered without hesitation.
"Very well. I shall inform Engner at once. Does that comfort you?"
She did not respond. The gloom in her eyes was heart breaking. Tuor tried to kiss her again and she turned her face away, tears falling from her eyes. Tuor could not help but feel frustrated and hurt. He cupped her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes.
"Look at me, Idril! It is I, your husband! It is Tuor, not Maeglin! I will not let him touch you! I promise you that! Put him from your mind! It is only in your mind that he can hurt you now!"
He brushed his lips upon hers just barely and she pressed herself against him to make it a real kiss. She began to sob and the ice to melt.
"I am so sorry," she wept. "I have been so distant. Forgive me."
"Sh," Tuor whispered. "It will be all right. We will get the tunnel finished within the month."
That night, they rekindled their romance. Idril was comforted if only for a while. Tuor made good upon his promise and Engner and his workers dug round the clock and completed their passage.
Earendel's seventh birthday came and passed. Morgoth was ready to unleash his wrath upon Gondolin at last.

It was the eve of Tarnin Austa, the Festival of Lamps. The Golodrim would feast in somber silence all night, shining their lamps, eagerly awaiting the dawn. Once the sun appeared, they would burst into joyful song and greet the sun's rays and give thanks for her light. Despite having to stay so still and silent for so long, it was Earendel's favorite holiday. The burst of sudden celebration after the boring stuff before made the fun even better. Besides, there was always plenty of his favorite foods to eat and he could run about the gardens and admire the eerie but beautiful glow and shadows cast by the lamps. The children took pride in their skill to keep quiet and practiced their stealth. They would try to find the loudest child and the quietest, compare their lamps, and try to howl and scream the loudest when the sun finally did rise.
His father helped him make his own lamp that morning. They baked and glazed a clay pot, cutting stars and ships so that the light would cast their shadows and make them dance as the candle flame flickered inside. As they worked Tuor told him tales of legendary sailors, of Ulmo and Osse, and the lost shores of the Blessed Lands. Earendel never grew tired of them and liked to imagine sailing the Sea someday with his father. His mother helped dress him for the festival, warning him not to go swimming in the fountain without first taking them off this year. Then she kissed him and tickled him. He promised to remember.
The sun set and the Golodrim began to gather in the Great Market. Earendel anxiously sought out his grandfather to show him the lamp he had made. Turgon placed the child in his lap and presented his lamp to the rest of the court to marvel at then allowed the child to take the choicest edibles from his plate.
Tuor and Idril sat nearby, clasping hands and recalling their wedding day. It was also a good night for lovers and many a couple slipped away into the shadows or the gardens. They could whisper sweet romance without anyone noticing. The Great Market had been decorated with lamps in much the same way. They ate, speaking only in hushed voices to each other. Then someone called out that there was a faint glow over the horizon. The Great Market hissed as confusion settled in. It was far too early for the sun to rise. Something unnatural was occurring.
Little Earendel crept to his father and whispered, "What is happening?"
"Perhaps lightning struck the plain and it has caught fire?"
"It may be an aurora," Voronwe said softly.
"What is that?" the child cocked his head.
"A strange show of lights of many colors that appears in the sky. We saw it often in the icy waters at sea."
"And often at the Crossing of the Helcaraxe," added Turgon. "It is a wondrous sight, but it looked nothing like this."
Idril offered no explanation, though her heart sank and her stomach felt as though it was harboring a living eel. She clutched Tuor's arm and stared in helpless horror as the lights stretched ever further, came ever closer, and became redder. Confusion slowly turned into utter despair and waved over the entire populace as the Golodrim's worst fear was finally realized.
A great cry rang up in the city, cutting the silence like a knife and snapping the others back to grim reality, "Morgoth is upon us."

Great was the anguish and fear of that most beauteous city once that terrible announcement finished ringing upon their ears. There were screams and wailing from the women and children. A few men scrambled to gear up and change their soiled clothes. Turgon scrambled to have his voice heard. Tuor and the other lords ran to his side.
"Send out scouts," Turgon said harshly. "And meet me in the council chamber. Make haste!"
Tuor stopped a brief moment to whisper to Idril, "Prepare to leave the city."
"What about you?"
"I must hear what the king decides to do. But I will return to the house one last time either to say farewell or to collect you. Wait for me there."
She became pale and Engner took her arm, " I will guard her until then."
"And I shall be with Tuor," Voronwe reassured her.
Idril nodded and lifted her son into her arms. Engner accompanied her to the house where she scrambled to collect what few valuables she could. She slipped out of her dress and sewed jewels and bits of gold into the folds of the skirt. Then she clothed herself all in mail. It was light and thin enough for quick movements but could notch the point of blades and hopefully stop arrowheads. She reinforced it with belts and slipped on her dress over it to conceal her second skin. She wept as she geared up. Wept for the city that she had known and loved most of her life, for the memories she shared with Tuor and her son, and all those that may not survive this night. She hoped that all her careful planning would finally bear fruit and would not be foiled by the Enemy or any other unseen force.

Tuor climbed up the stairs of the King's tower even though he felt as though heavy iron weights were fastened to his limbs. His stomach churned and each step was more reluctant than the last. Voronwe took his arm and aided him up to the hall. They were not the first to arrive nor were they the last. Maeglin stood beside the king, calm and as unreadable as ever. Turgon gazed out upon the fiery plains, his face gray. He said nothing until all the lords of the seven houses had gathered.
Turgon turned to them and spoke at last, "Great is the fall of Gondolin!"
A shudder ran down the spines of all those there, for he echoed the words of the prophets so long ago. Tuor found it difficult to hold his tongue. They had been warned of this for so long and so many times. He wanted to reveal the Children's Tunnel and persuade Turgon to simply order the entire city to flee through it. He knew he could not. He would be branded a coward, Turgon was too stubborn, and he did not trust Maeglin. He wanted to live, yes, but he did not want to run either. A small part of him wanted to remain for a glorious last stand.
He was not alone in this thought. Some of the lords called out that they would never abandon the city unless Turgon expressly commanded it of them. Most of them had known no other home. Death in the city they loved was preferable to death and uncertainty in the world outside of the white-washed walls. Tuor was not afraid of the Wild. In fact, he remembered the Sea and longed for it all the more. Perhaps now was the time to sail it with Idril at his side and his son upon his shoulders. Was it not in all Elves' blood, this sea longing?
Voronwe knew his thoughts and spoke, "My King, the city is lost. Why should we stand and defend it? Let us get the women and children out of here at least. They cannot stand and fight. Not one of the soldiers will abandon it, but do you demand the lives of the innocents as well?"
Turgon was strangely silent. If one looked into his eyes, they seemed empty and far away.
"Uncle," Maeglin said. "Remember the long labor we have spent in the making of this city. Every stone was set with love. There is no other city like Gondolin upon Arda. It rivals the cities of Valinor! It is the last true stronghold in the world. If it falls, there is no hope for the Eldar. And there will be even less hope for those of Tuor's race. The Enemy is terrifying, but not invincible, and we are not cowards. I do not wish to see our maids and little children suffer. But remember that there are few ways out of the city. The main gate is blocked and the hidden way is too narrow and is likely guarded as well. If they flee, they will only be butchered and enslaved. If we fight, though there is little hope, there will at least be a chance for them as well as the city. Gondolin is home to more than ourselves. It houses more than our bodies. Within the Vaults are treasures taken from Valinor, wealth untold, and all those material possessions we hold dear and sacred. Is it to be left for the greedy hands and claws of Orc folk and hoarded away by serpentine dragons? There are worse fates than death. The cup of exile is bitter, the curse of poverty a humiliation, and the loss of our courage and dignity unforgivable."
Maeglin spoke with all his persuasive power, and his speech was an inspiration to any of those with will left to fight. Even those that had despaired a moment ago lifted up their heads, renewed with hope. Turgon groaned, for he remembered the treasures of Valinor in particular. The thought of such holy artifacts in the hands of the Enemy struck him hard.
Tuor was horrified that this simple appeal to his greed seemed to sway his beloved liege lord. He had always known Turgon to be generous with his riches and loving toward his family as well as his people. He had always believed Turgon loved his work overmuch, but that in this hour, he would remember that the lives of the Golodrim mattered more. His faith seemed horribly misplaced.
When Turgon looked in Tuor's eyes, he could sense his turmoil. Tuor had the uncanny ability to wear his emotions and thoughts upon his sleeve. Idril had successfully taught him to cloak it some, but he did not bother to do so now. Turgon was ashamed, but he looked then upon Maeglin's smiling face. His nephew seemed so certain that the doom could be avoided still, so confident. He could never see the evil in his sister-son. He could not possibly guess the true meaning of Maeglin's triumphant smile.
"There is no time," Turgon's words were heavy and full of sorrow. "I release you all from your oaths. You are free to fight or flee as you choose. As for me, I will remain in my tower until the end, for good or ill. If this is the time for the Valar to return and battle with Morgoth and for the Noldor to redeem themselves, this is the hour."
With that, Turgon cast aside his crown. Without another word or glance to anyone, he locked himself within the tower's highest room to watch his beloved city burn. There could be no argument. Even though Tuor and the others rapped upon the door and begged and pleaded, he did not answer. He had given his last command.
Ecthelion and Glorfindel began to shout out orders for battle. They would fight, if only to buy the civilians time. Others rallied to them, but not Tuor. He slipped away and noted that Maeglin had gone missing as well. For all his talk, it appeared he had slipped away to perform some mischief or to make his escape.
"What shall we do, milord?" his guards asked. "Are we going to fight?"
"No," he answered. "I am going to find my wife and son. We shall make for the tunnel together. Turgon has released me, though I did not ask it of him. I would have remained at his side and died if he commanded it. I am glad he did not. My greatest desire was ever to remain with my family. Gondolin is lost."
Voronwe joined him and said, "The Enemy will do its best to prevent that. We must hurry."
"I shall go with you," Salagant stepped away from the others. "I have no desire to die like a desperate dog defending a few scraps of meat. We will be safer in numbers."
Tuor was not surprised that he was so quick to flee the city if he saw that others were of like mind. It appeared his master had abandoned him too. He even felt a little sorry for the wretched creature, so he nodded.
They fled out into the streets, making for Tuor's house in the square. They were forced to engage in some scattered combat. Already there had been some breaches in the walls, climbers, and monsters with wings were not stopped by walls. A mighty dragon landed in the market, burning everything in his path but the great fountain. It was here Ecthelion made his last stand. The great worm seized him in his jaws and spit him out into the fountain. The Lord of the Fountains drowned after a valiant battle.
As Tuor's guards did battle about him, distracted by Orcs, Salagant drew out a shirt knife. As the combat continued, he got ever closer to his target. Tuor was busy slicing through a small crowd of Orcs. It was then that Salagant's household guards turned their blades upon those of the Swan. Tuor was astonished as his own were slaughtered about him, taken completely by surprise. Salagant's blade was inches from his spine when an arrow whistled through the air. He cried out in pain as the arrow caught him in the back, and Tuor was startled. He turned about to see Salagant doubling over, the knife in his hands still. Furious at the betrayal, he swung his axe and took off the would-be assassin's head in one clean sweep.
With Salagant dead, his servants fled. Four of the Swan knights were dead. The rest were confused.
"I am glad I never took my eyes off him," Voronwe bellowed, retrieving his arrow from the carcass. "A pity you killed him so quickly. I want to know how much Maeglin paid him for this attempt."
"Is Maeglin responsible for this betrayal!" one of his knights wept over the remains of his companion. "This is Kinslaying! And at the worst of times!"
"Who else could it be?" Tuor knew it must be so, but he was still reeling with shock. He did not think Maeglin would ever be so careless or nefarious.
"I hope he is satisfied with whatever treasures he stole from the vault and will enjoy living in darkness among the mountains with his singing stones. May he die alone and unloved!"
"It was never treasure he wanted most," Tuor said with quiet alarm. "It was a living beauty he craved. The one maiden he could never have. And if he plotted to have me killed in this way, he could slaughter innocents as well! I must get home!"
"Before the Orcs do?"
"No! Before Maeglin finds my wife and son first!"

Earendel sat upon his bed with his hands clasped to his knees. The fires of Morgoth caused the shadows from the lamps to look more like eerie monsters dancing about his walls. Already a great heat was roasting the city. The boy was crying in terror, too young to even understand what was happening and no one was explaining. Engner tried to distract him by collecting his favorite toys though he was almost as frightened as the child. The rest of the servants and guards had either gone with Tuor or scrambled home to gather their families and possessions.
"Mother, are we going to leave the city forever now?" the child asked when she stepped into his room.
"If we can, little one."
"What of Ada?"
"We must wait for him in a safe place. Now come here. I have a present for you."
"A present?" despite all, the boy's eyes lit up for a brief moment.
Idril held out a child size mail coat similar in fashion to her own. She had made it in secret herself.
The boy groaned, "Mother, I can't wear it. It is much too hot!"
"You must!" Idril snapped. "Now is not the time for games, complains, or disobedience! you will wear this beneath the clothes you are presently wearing. It is hot, I know, darling, and I am sorry. But this could very well save your life! Now do not leave this room until I come for you!"
Earendel gazed out the window and took the coat. He changed as quickly as he could.
There was a knock upon the door. Idril threw it open, expecting to see Tuor. Instead, she found Maeglin standing in the doorway.
He locked eyes with her and for a moment she was frozen in fear. His leather gloves were black as his galvorn armor and he wore no helm so that his dark hair fell about his shoulders like a dark mane. There was a strange token about his throat, a coin that she guessed must be made out of crude iron. When he noted where she was looking, he tucked the token out of sight, but it was too late. Her suspicion was soaring by the moment.
They gazed at each other expectantly, waiting for the other to make a move. She imagined nothing good could come from him, and he sensed her instinct to flee. He shifted his weight to the side and beckoned to her.
"You go before me, Idril Celebrindal. I shall guard you and see you safely from the city. Where is your little son?"
"What are you doing here, Maeglin?" she stayed put and ignored his question. "Why are you not on the field or defending the walls? Our soldiers have need of one of their most venerated generals now more than ever. And where is my husband? It should be him before me not you."
"The king has demanded that there be a last stand to try to save the city and all its riches. Tuor has eagerly gone to barricade the tower and the vaults, no doubt like an obedient dog. But I was thinking of my loved ones and was personally charged with your safety by those of higher authority. It is imperative that the future queen and her son be protected after all."
"Who gave you that order?" Engner stepped beside her. "Turgon? I would think not. Besides, I have a sword and more are coming. Idril is not as defenseless as you seem to think."
"And where are these others? As far as I can see Tuor left his wife and son in the hands of one incompetent tracker. What a strategist!"
"I have had more experience than you, pup!" Engner growled. "I have faced the dangers of the wilderness and the elements. I fought upon the same battlefield as you. I have slain Orcs, giant spiders, and Men!"
"There are much more than Orcs approaching. There are Men too, of course. There are no giant spiders to my knowledge, but trolls, wargs, vampires, and others. There are monsters of machinery that belch fire and oil and poison fumes. It is the largest and most effective army the Dark Lord has ever assembled. There are half a dozen dragons and even several Balrogs, including Gothmog himself."
"Tell me, coz," Idril's tone was stern. "How would you know of the Enemy in such detail?"
"I have always prided myself on being informed. I have my spies and I have even infiltrated Angband itself!" Maeglin's eyes were wild.
"You are mad!" Engner exclaimed.
"No," Idril said softly. "He is quite sane, I fear. Now tell me this coz: How long has it been since Morgoth bought you?"
"That is most unfair, Idril."
"HOW LONG?!" she demanded. "Were you Morgoth's since you fell out of such high favor and I was named heir or was it long before that? Was it after you swore an oath to my father all those years ago or before even that! Were you born into such service or did you find Morgoth in the dark shadows of Nan Elmoth?"
Maeglin did not see the point in lying, "It has been seven years since I was Orc dragged to Angband and forced to reveal all of Gondolin's secrets. Had I refused, I would have been tortured until I confessed anyway or died horribly. It would not have been long before some other poor sod was captured and Gondolin exposed. But they would not have been clever enough to strike the deal that I did and salvaged what they could. Gondolin was doomed to fall anyway, I was merely the tool to aid in its destruction."
"How could you!" Engner bellowed. "You lying self-serving snake! You treacherous bastard! Not even Eol could have achieved total annihilation as you have delivered upon us!"
Maeglin struck him with his fist and spat on the ground. There was such violence and strength in the blow that Engner almost lost his balance and blood spilled forth from both lip and nose.
"Do not compare me to that coward!" Maeglin said. "Do not even mention his name!"
Engner was just as angry, "Deny him all that you please, you have proven yourself his son with your actions. He would be proud of you. Meanwhile Aredhel's body rots in that tomb because she took the poisoned spear meant for you. A pity that her sacrifice was wasted upon you! If only she had the foresight to see what you would become and how you would betray us and everything and everyone she ever loved. Instead of being a bride to the Dark Elf in death she could have been my living bride and Gondolin would have stood at least a thousand more years!"
"I have betrayed no one!" Maeglin snapped. "If my mother had known that a mortal was to be set above us all and placed upon the throne after he wed her niece, she would be rolling in her grave! Or even that you, Engner, pretended to love me and had every intention of treating me as a son while she was yet alive. Once dead though, you were nothing more than civil. Behind my back you spied upon me and looked for flaws and reasons to distance yourself. I could care less. I found the father I looked for in Turgon. But Tuor robbed me even of him. And the both of you turned Idril against me. For that I can never forgive you!"
"You promised your mother that you would always protect the king and Idril!" Engner retorted.
"I did promise that," Maeglin flashed a sweet smile at Idril. "And I will keep my promise in part. Only I can protect the Princess and her son now. So stand aside or die."
"Stand aside or die!" Idril cried, her voice trembling with rage and angry tears falling from her eyes. "So along with oath-breaking and treason you would add kin-slaying to the list of your crimes? How could you do this! How could you do this to the innocent small folk that have no part in the imagined schemes against you or to the soldiers that have fought and bled for you in previous battles? What of the King who loved you more than even his own daughter! He set you upon his right and me at his left even after he granted me the title of heiress. He believed no wrong could be done by you and gave you all the love and praise he denied me for so long. Everyone was convinced he would declare you his heir for so many years. You were everything he wanted in a son and you proclaim that you loved him as a father. Sons do not plot against and murder their fathers! Was it truly worth throwing away such love and devotion?"
"I have not betrayed anyone that did not first betray me," Maeglin insisted.
"Liar!" Engner shouted. "You merely expected everyone to worship you regardless of your character or actions!"
"What did Morgoth promise you that was worth destroying all this? What black fruit did he offer for your black soul? I too wish that Aredhel had not taken your place in death that day! She was my mother before she ever was yours. You and your father robbed me of her, the maiden I loved most in all the world!"
Maeglin's smug smile disappeared and he gazed out upon the city. There was sadness in his eyes and in his tone.
"Make no mistake, I DID love this city. I love it still. I love its fountains, walls, battlements, towers, and gates. I love its people, even the most shallow and despicable. Did I not labor in Gondolin's making with my own hands and with the sweat of my brow? The Gate of Steel is my own work. Did I not risk my own life for its people? Did I not train not only soldiers but smiths and architects? Did I not court my share of beautiful maids? Did I not resist the Enemy as long as I could? There is no question in my mind that I did. I loved only two things about the city more than all that I have listed. One of those was Turgon. He was the only person besides my mother that truly loved me and I him. If I could have found a way to spare his life, I would have pursued it. I would have saved every single soul. But I had to be selective or everything would be lost."
"No, YOU would gain everything that YOU wanted and everyone else would lose all that they have!" Engner bellowed. "How dare you try to spin your tale as though you are some pitiable, suffering hero and that you have made some sort of great sacrifice doing this? You deserve no more than a traitor's death!"
Maeglin drew his sword, "I do not have to explain or excuse anything. It is what it is. I am whatever villain you require me to be. I care not anymore and any attempts I make to ask for forgiveness and understanding are only met with curses and utter lack of appreciation. Now step aside, Engner, and let Idril and the boy pass, wherever the whelp may be."
"I am going nowhere with you, Maeglin!" Idril declared. "And neither will my son!"
"And I will not allow you to take them!" Engner drew his sword.
Their blades clashed. Idril backed away and scrambled to hatch some sort of way to bypass Maeglin and smuggle her son to safety. She wanted to save Engner too if she could. But she knew it was near impossible to do all these things. She did not need to witness their duel to know that Maeglin was a master with blades. Engner was not likely a match and she certainly was not. She had handled a blade before and there was a dull sword nearby she had once practiced with, but it was a deadly, unfamiliar territory for her. Her son was in the next room. If she called he would be seized and possibly murdered before her eyes. Maeglin held his ground before the only door to escape. The windows of their home led only to sky. All she could do was pray her son kept silent and out of sight and that Engner would win.
Maeglin's movements were strong, deliberate, and quick. Engner's were frantic and weaker. He tried to imagine he was figthing Eol and would avenge Aredhel's death a second time. But try as he might, he stared back into her very eyes within Maeglin's face. He had no qualms about murdering the son of Eol, but he was hesitant to murder the son of Aredhel. It was a crippling psychological affect that made his parries half-hearted and he attacked with reluctance. Maeglin did not stint at the idea of murder now. If his sins were so many, what was one more murder? He was determined to claim his prize at last. No one would stand in his way. NO ONE.
Maeglin smiled with satisfaction as his sword pierced through a lung and Idril screamed. Engner collapsed to his knees with his life blood spilling out. Maeglin kicked away his sword as it fell from his hand and hit him with the hilt of his sword so that he fell upon his face on the floor. He was gasping for air and his eyes begged forgiveness as he looked at Idril. She leaned down to cradle him in her arms but Maeglin took a step forward and she sprang back, snatching up the dull blade as a last resort and backing away.
"Leave him," Maeglin snarled. "No need to get blood upon yourself, your royal highness. The Orcs can smell it and it drives the beasts wild."
"How could you!" she cried. "At least give him a clean death! He is slowly suffocating!"
"I warned him to step aside," Maeglin was unsympathetic, stepping over his crumpled body.
Idril swung the blade, but Maeglin hooked it with his own in one graceful move. He seized her with one hand and spun her about, pressing her back against his chest and raising both blades, one still in his hand and at the same time forcing her own arm in the same position so that both swords threatened to slice her throat. She struggled, not caring that she could feel the cold steel against her skin. Maeglin pressed his lips to her ear.
"As for my reward, Idril, Morgoth offered me all! My own kingdom, wealth, power, and the destruction of my enemies. All of this I might have gained on my own with time and careful planning. But there was one thing that he offered that I never could have hoped to gain but desperately desired. And the one thing I loved most in this city and have always loved more than anything is you. Just you."
He titled his head a little more so that his lips found her own. It was more ravenous and greedy than any kiss Tuor had given her. When she tried to let out a muffled cry he simply used that opportunity to move onto open mouth kissing. She was breathless when he finally pulled away for a moment but quickly found her voice again.
"Maeglin, stop!" she screamed. "Did you feel no revulsion or shame in that? We are COUSINS!"
"No."
"I am Tuor's and could never belong to you!"
"In a few minutes you will be a widow," Maeglin said confidently. "It has been arranged."
"I do not believe you!"
"If he somehow survives, do you really think he will want you after I have had you? You are MINE now. You cannot run and you cannot refuse. I have waited CENTURIES for this, Idril!"
He ripped the dull sword from her and cast it out of the nearest window while he sheathed his own. Then he seized her with both hands and forced her into another kiss. This time when he pulled away she let out a cry for aid as loudly and as desperately as she possibly could, hoping that someone was near and would somehow forget the fire and multitudes of screams and weeping in the city and come to her call. No one came.
Maeglin's strength was preternatural and his lust amplified by the adrenaline of blood and battle. He dragged her into the next room which was the master bedroom. He thought it might add spice to ravage her upon the bed she had shared with Tuor for the past seven years and began pulling at her clothes and pulling her down upon it. But she had one last trick up her sleeve, to his greatest frustration. When he ripped away the robes, what was revealed was not her naked flesh, but the mail suit and the dozens of belts and complicated buckles fastened about her waist, strapped along her chest, and had practically made a skirt of them wound about her legs and thighs made of tight leather thongs and copper. He might remove them all, but it would take precious time to unfasten them all and if he tried to use his blade to cut through them he might risk cutting her.
She laughed as he let out a cry of rage, "Yes, I guessed that you might actually attempt to rape me and I prepared for it!"
"You know me too well, it seems. But what is one more night? I can wait a few more hours."
"I need not resist that long, surely. By the end of this night one of us or both of us will be dead," Idril's smile was joyless.
"Not if I have anything to do with it."
He kissed her, wishing he could possess her then and there still and wondered if he might even try still despite the risk. He began fumbling with some of the belts as he kissed what little skin was already exposed until he heard a little voice cry out.
"Uncle, what are you doing!" Earendil had come out of hiding in his room when he heard his mother's cries.
"RUN!" Idril tried to warn him.
But the child was too horrified and angered by what he saw. Engner still lay choking by the exit and Maeglin would set arms about his mother. He sprang at him in a foolish attempt to defend her. Maeglin had been so caught up in the whirlwind of his need that he had almost forgotten about the boy. Now he shook him off easily after barely feeling his little fists raining blows upon him and drew his sword again. Idril cried out and leaped from the bed to shield her son with her body.
"Do not harm him, Maeglin!" she begged. "Please! He is my son!"
Maeglin ripped the child from her grasp, "You will show me where this tunnel of yours is and you will stop fighting me now, or I swear your son will die!"
"What tunnel?" Idril did not think her heart could have sunk any lower.
Maeglin cut Earendil's cheek with his blade. The boy let out a little squeal of pain and Idril wailed and tried to pry her son from his grasp. Instead, Maeglin grasped her by her long golden hair.
"I will cut him for your every time you attempt to lie to me! That is a promise! You are not practiced at such an art and I can read hearts almost as well as you can, Idril. I would not risk lying if I were you!"
"How did you-"
"My moles always lie underfoot and hear even the most discreet of whisperings. I congratulate you for keeping the tunnel a secret as long as you did. You almost got away with it too. Now show me the way to it!"
"You do not trust your Master, I see. So now you will take your spoils and run like a craven?"
"For now. Start walking!"
"How can I trust that you will not kill my son anyway?"
"Do you have any other choice?"
Idril put one foot in front of the other and took a reluctant step.
"That's a good girl," Maeglin said with sickening sweetness.

"Idril, just where are you taking us?" Maeglin demanded. "Methinks you are trying to outwit me somehow by leading us astray and buy time for your precious Tuor or another one of his sandal licking friends. I tell you now, it will not work."
"I cannot very well lead you the straight way in case one of the Enemy is following, now can I?" Idril snapped. "And the going is slow because you refuse to let go of my hair!"
Maeglin drew out the decorative chains that he had fashioned for just such an occasion more or less. He clasped them upon her wrists and held the end of them and admired his work for a moment.
"They look just as I imagined they would upon you. Are they terribly uncomfortable?" he asked.
"Does it really matter?" she said bitterly. "They are chains!"
"It does matter. I grew up with a father that used pain upon his wife as a means to an end. I do not intend to use such abuse upon you. You must admit it is better than pulling you about by your hair or wrenching your arm off. Also, the Orcs will see that you are my captive and will not touch you. Never you mind about the Enemy. They will not lay a hand upon us. I was promised protection which extends to you as well."
"But not my son," she pointed out. "And you are not fool enough to trust Morgoth's promises are you?"
"I have no other option, do I? Whatever Morgoth promised me, it may count for nothing when the Orcs begin burning and looting. And if you think me such a monster, Idril, imagine what a regiment of Orcs would do to you and your son. They have no women-folk of their own. I have seen what they do to maidens in the Thrall Vaults, both Elf and Woman. It is... unspeakable. The human girls usually do not survive, and the Elf maids must endure it again and again. It will only go worse for you when they have the blood song upon them. Then they may take your battered and bruised form before Morgoth as a trophy of war. He has shown himself more than capable of lusting after beautiful maids. Luthien was proof of that. And since she escaped his clutches, he may be willing to settle with another Elf Princess. As for your son, they will tear into his tender flesh and eat his heart and liver first and then his entrails. Elf children are a delicacy among their kind."
"If that is the case," Idril struggled to keep her voice steady. "How can you possibly protect us?"
"With the token about my neck and with the power of my words. Words alone is what saved me from death at the hands of Orcs before. Pray that if they come upon us and reach for your son that I am in the mood to bargain for his life."
"And if they still accost us?"
Maeglin gripped the hilt of his sword, "Then I will die to defend you."
Idril was not satisfied. He continued to refer only to her, not her son. She was convinced that as soon as they reached the tunnel he would dash her son's head against the wall or leave the child trapped inside as he sealed the tunnel to guarantee their escape. She knew she could not delay much longer, though. Desperately she tried to think of some clever way to save her child. And then she had it. Her feet began to lead her toward the Caragdur. It was her last hope and greatest fear.
Maeglin began to realize where they were headed and was puzzled at first. It was a place that everyone avoided not only because it was dangerous, but because of the history that had taken place there. Perhaps the tunnel started somewhere nearby precisely for that reason. As he mused, Idril tried to squeeze the chains loose, though the little mithril links cut her skin. She tried her best to hide her actions and the blood gushing through her own chain sleeves and gnashed her teeth. She stopped once they reached the precipice and refused to move again.
"What is this?" Maeglin snarled, pulling at her chains to drag her to her feet and face him.
"The way out," she answered curtly. "I call it the Sky Tunnel. Use it if you dare!"
Maeglin shook his head, "You disappoint me, Idril. We have no time to play this sort of game with each other and your son cannot possibly afford it."
"There is no Children's Tunnel," Idril insisted with all of her conviction. "It was a rumor we spread to bring hope to the defenseless maids and little children but we never started it. We thought, with it seemingly so peaceful, that we had years still to create it."
"You are lying! And this time your son will pay with more than a small cut!"
"No!" little Earendel cried.
"Hear me!" Idril pulled at the chain now, as much his as hers with him clutching them so tightly. "If we had really completed the tunnel would we have kept it a secret from my father? Would we have really gambled upon word of mouth to save the poor smallfolk?"
Maeglin doubted for a moment. Her eyes were sincere, but when he tried to read deeper with his piercing gaze he could still sense a hardened resistance in Idril. She was usually so well guarded, but Maeglin might prove more than a match. He had made an obsessive habit of studying her. Furthermore, he needed to find a way to escape the city with his hard won prize safe. Hiding in the city, even in his private forge, may yet prove to be a mistake. He did not want to lose his hard won prize now that he finally had it within his grasp. He took Idril firmly by the chin, tracing her lips, wondering if he could sense lies that way and considering something else in his dark thoughts.
"Do you take me for a fool?"
"I once took you for a friend and kinsman," she whispered.
His hand went to her throat, applying the slightest amount of pressure as an intimidating warning.
"Once again I will ask: Where is the tunnel?"
She did not even flinch. Maeglin sighed.
"Both of you, look down," he pointed.
Mother and son gazed down to the sight of the fields of Tamladin ablaze. There was a heat like hellfire and the clamor of war. Maeglin turned to the child.
"Tell me, boy, how old are you?"
"Seven."
"Have you had a happy life so far?"
"Not today," the child shook his head. "Today I wish I had never been born."
Idril reached out to comfort her son, but Maeglin took him by the arms, lifting him away.
"Seven years old and already weary of life. Better to kill you now then allow you to become a reflection of myself."
Idril screamed as Maeglin dangled the child over the precipice. She clasped his knees and begged him to spare her babe. She remembered her dream and the image of her son burning. Earendel wailed.
"Lomion!" she used his childhood name, the name she formerly refused to utter. "Lomion, please stop! You do not want to do this! You are many things, but you are not a murderer of children!"
For a moment Maeglin paused. It had been so long since anyone called him by his real name, and it had only been his mother. But Aredhel had always said it with such tender care. It did not sound as sweet suddenly coming from Idril because she was desperate and afraid. Even though he has asked her to say it for years, he was less satisfied than he had once hoped. It put him in a fouler mood.
"Why should I spare the brat?" Maeglin snapped.
"He is my son and your godson!"
"He may be your son, but he is not mine! He is a half-human abomination, not a true child!"
"He is mine! That should be enough! If that is not enough, look at him! He has my father's look. Even some of your mother is in him. Some of yourself! Please, if ever you loved me-"
"I loved you and yet you spurned me! You wed a living corpse and made a son with him instead! We can always have more children, Idril. They will be strong, beautiful, and ours. They will not be half dead when born like this one. Maybe I will plant one in you tonight!"
Idril's face was gray and her eyes glistening and wide. She was horrified by what he said, but she did not want her son to burn.
"What-what do you want?" she stammered. "It is not my son you want. It is me. Only me. I-I will do any-anything you ask. Just. Please. Do not harm my baby."
"The location of the tunnel in exchange for your son's life. This time."
She sputtered, thinking of all the other mothers with babes in their arms she would certainly condemn to death and thralldom if she gave in. Maeglin let the child slip a little and she almost leaped after him. Earendel cried out. Maeglin still had Idril's chains though and pulled her back. And then Idril caved and blurted out the location of the tunnel in a storm of strangled sobs and tears. It was painful for her and tedious for Maeglin, but he was able to interpret what she spoke of well enough.
"You see, Idril, that was not so hard, was it?" Maeglin said almost tenderly and placed her son back on solid ground.
She cursed him. He laughed and pulled her into another kiss. This time when he forced his tongue into her she bit down on it defiantly. Blood rushed into their mouths. Idril began to cough and wretch it upon the ground, repulsed on so many levels. Maeglin merely grinned and wiped the blood from his own lip.
"It is the same blood as your own, Idril. Can you reject it so callously?"
"We are kin, but you are a kin-slayer and a monster!" she screamed.
He kissed her again, giving her another taste of his blood and muffling her cries. Earendel could not stand by and watch his mother being violated. He unleashed all of his fury on Maeglin until the Dark Elf's son got it into his mind to draw his dagger and stab at the annoying insect. The hidden mail shirt notched the blade and the child bit his outstretched hand with tiny teeth but amazing ferociousness for his size. The blade dropped to the ground. Maeglin was confused and blinded with fury. He decided to cast the boy over the cliff and feed him to the flames out of pure cruelty of heart. He seized the boy.
"Enough of you!" he snarled. "Man-child, Elf-ling, whatever you are, you are dead!"
"You promised you would spare him!" Idril shrieked.
"Did I promise that?" Maeglin cocked his head. "I lied."
"Murder my son and I will never let you have me! I will throw myself off this cliff and take you with me or throw myself upon the nearest blade!"
"You will not. Your life is mine now!"
"I swear it by the Valar! I will kill you and then myself! At the very least I will give it a very good try! Every night, every time you touch me, you will risk your very life! I will never let you rest! I will find a way!"
The three of them grappled. The son of the Dark Elf, the White Lady, and the Half-Elf. Maeglin remembered how fierce Aredhel became when Eol threatened him as a child. He recalled his own fear and anger. Idril had no weapons but suddenly became a tigress defending her cub, summoning strength from some source that astonished both of them and brandishing tooth and nail like so. She had managed to squeeze one of her hands from the chains and the child was without bonds. He fought for his own survival.
For the first time, Maeglin was really struggling. His blades seemed useless even against the tender child and he could not bring himself to harm Idril. They were dangerously close to the edge. He wanted to throw the child over, but in doing so, prevent himself or Idril from falling over as well. The chain guaranteed they'd share a similar fate. Idril did not seem to care for her life, only for that of her son.
Suddenly a voice cut through the air in a roar of such rage it gave them all pause. It was Tuor. Idril cried his name and Earendel twisted from Maeglin's grasp and ran to his father, wailing. But Maeglin still held Idril both by her hair and by the chains about her wrists. Tuor wrapped an arm about his son but gazed at Maeglin murderously.
"It is a surprise to see you, Tuor," Maeglin spoke first.
"No doubt it is a surprise to you," Tuor said with an ominous tone. "Well, Maeglin, where are the Orcs you saved my wife and son from?"
"Orcs?"
"Yes, the Orcs. There are chains about my wife and a fresh cut upon my son's cheek. Surely this is Orc-work. Doubtless you were on your way to battle when you chanced upon my wife and son being accosted by the Enemy. Perhaps some rogue climbers and scouts. Or perhaps there was a small breach already in the walls. Did you allow them to escape? Where are their corpses? Is your sword so notched from such fierce battle that you cannot cut those gaudy-looking chains off of my beloved?"
Earendel stilled his tears and pointed at Maeglin, "He is the one that cut me, Ada! He killed Uncle Engner and has put his dirty hands all over Mamil. He is mean and evil, and he would have killed me just now and kept on hurting Mamil."
Maeglin sneered, "I should have cut out your tongue before aught else, egg!"
"Perhaps the boy is mistaken," Tuor's voice was still steady. "For Prince Maeglin has vowed an oath to King Turgon and always protected this city. It is well known he loves Idril Celebrindal above all others. It is known that he is godfather to my son. It is known that he has no taint in him. Yes. It is known without question. So when I ran to my house in great distress where my family was, and with his dying breath Engner told me: Maeglin has them, my heart did not sink at all. It was glad. For I knew they should be safe. I need only find you."
"Indeed. The princess is safe with me. I am the only one that can keep her safe now."
"Yes. I can see that. You were going to save my wife. But not my son, is that the way of it? Pray tell me, what you were about to do with my family just now?"
"I would have burned your precious son and ravaged Idril countless times," Maeglin did not lie. "What of it?"
Tuor drew his axe.
"No!" Idril whimpered. "Do not attempt to save me, Tuor! I could not bear to see you hurt or murdered! Take our little son! Escape with your lives and I will see to my own!"
"Best listen to her," Maeglin said. "She shows wisdom and selflessness. Admirable qualities indeed. I do not need to lay a finger upon you or the child, after all. Death is written upon your brows anyway. I am astonished you are not already dead! Someone has failed me."
"You speak of the attempt your mole Salagant made upon me?" Tuor laughed grimly. "Voronwe!"
They gazed and upon the parapet yards away Voronwe stood with his bow in one hand and a severed head in another. He flung it far and it fell at Maeglin's feet. It was Salagant. There was not a flicker in Maeglin's eyes and he kicked it away. Idril gasped and Eardnel went pale as milk. Voronwe fitted an arrow to his string and took careful aim.
"Make him fall back!" Maeglin drew his sword and placed it before Idril's throat. "Do not make me hurt her!"
Tuor hesitated. He tried to determine if Maeglin's threat was empty or not. On one hand, his obsession with Idril was no passing ting. He had not even possessed her yet. Surely he was determined to at least enjoy her once before he slit her throat. But on the other hand, he was cornered and desperate. He hated Tuor and may be determined that if he could not have Idril, no one would. Eol had eventually slain Aredhel. He remembered Engner's plea: To protect Idril from such a doom.
"Strike us down! Both of us!" Idril pleaded. "I would rather feel the cold kiss of steel or the bite of an arrow than to be crushed beneath Maeglin in his forge and feel his kisses and his teeth gnawing at my flesh, polluting my body as well as my soul! Surely he will destroy me once he tires of me. If I am to meet death, I would rather it be delivered by my beloved husband."
"No!" Tuor said in horror. "I would not strike you down! Never!"
"And that is what he is counting on, my beloved fool," Idril's eyes were sad.
Tuor lowered his axe and Maeglin laughed.
"I consider this a fair trade! I allow you to take your son and live yourself. It is more than you deserve. For those cheap lives I will take golden Idril Celebrindal. You were never worthy of her, and I promise you I will take good care of her."
To provoke Tuor and for his own pleasure, Maeglin kissed Idril, making an obsence show of it. But Voronwe took that chance to fire a single arrow that landed in Maeglin's sword arm. He fired another, trying to aim for Maeglin's eyes, but it embedded itself in Idril's chain mail. She stirred to action and began to pull away from Maeglin. Then Tuor sprang forward, ripping Maeglin away from his wife. Idril took her son in her arms to shield him in case Maeglin reached for him again and Voronwe, out of arrows, rushed to join them.
Tuor's axe met Maeglin's blade. Maeglin was strong, but he was surprised at the mortal's strength. Maeglin had seen Tuor spar on the practice field, but he had never witnessed Tuor's true talent. Whenever he practiced, Tuor did so with a sword. His swordplay was not child play, but he was much more comfortable and formidable with his axes. Tour had seen Maeglin wish his blade and studied him. He was aggressive, while Tuor was like a steady rock. Maeglin was proud of his prowess, Tuor was humble. Maeglin was competitive and rarely lost a fight. Tuor was usually cautious and observant. Not this night.
Tuor had been shaken from his foundations, and his instinct to protect his family gave him enormous strength and will. He remembered the Easterlings coming to take Puriel away and how powerless he had been to stop it. He remembered the cries of Annael's people as they were carted away to become thralls of Angband. He channeled his righteous rage when he remembered all the times Maeglin had tormented his wife and threatened his child. Maeglin thought only of the pleasure he would experience killing Tuor himself. He was almost glad he had stumbled upon them and that Salagant had failed.
"What would you have done to my wife and son if I had been killed and you succeeded in your ghastly plot?" Tuor hissed.
Maeglin leered, "I would have burnt your precious son to ashes and dust and ravaged Idril countless times after as she wept bitter tears for you both!"
Suddenly Tuor charged at him, blocking Maeglin's sword with the blunt of his axe. Then he seized not Maeglin's sword, but his sword arm and snapped it with a sickening sound. Maeglin winced but showed no fear or pain, but the sword dropped. Maeglin would have bounded after it, but he had to dodge Tuor's axe. Idril scooped up the blade instead. Now Maeglin tried to wrest away Tuor's weapon using only his remaining arm. Even with one, Maeglin's strength was unnatural. He squeezed at Tuor's throat. He tried to shake Maeglin off and they rolled dangerously along the edge of the precipice, struggling. At some point, Tuor lost his axe, but he managed to get atop Maeglin, grabbing and twisting his fingers back and away from his neck. Then he grabbed Maeglin by the middle of his torso and lifted him high.
The last words of Eol the Dark Elf echoed in Idril's ears and also in Maeglin's: "Here shall you fail of all your hopes and here may you yet die the same death as I!"
Then Tuor cast him over the precipice. He disappeared among the rocks and flames. So Maeglin the Betrayer was slain, and Idril's long nightmare was over.

Tuor crawled away from the precipice, heaving and laboring to breathe. He brushed his hand over his axe, relieved it had not gone over the edge as well. Then he stretched out his arms to receive his family. Idril and Earendel ran to him. He wrapped his arms around his son and his wife lovingly. He searched them for wounds. The arrow had not pierced through Idril's mail and Earendel's cut may not even leave a scar. There was still blood smeared on Idril's lip.
"Did the bastard harm you?" Tuor growled.
"That is not my blood," she said bitterly, wiping it away.
"Fighting him was dangerous."
"After all the years spent tolerating his subtle glances and enduring his touches, I could not do so anymore."
"You will never have to do so again," Tuor promised and turned to his son. "Are you hurt? What is it that you are wearing?"
He began to open the boy's shirt and the child squirmed and fussed, insisting he was well. Tuor realized the boy was wearing armor too. He could distinctly see where Maeglin's dagger had almost pierced through, right between the child's ribs. He was horrified for a heartbeat, then relieved.
"This is your work, wife?"
She nodded.
"You saved our son's life. You are the craftiest maiden in all the world!"
"It was about time my gift of foresight saved someone."
"Can I take it off now?" Earendel asked.
"No!" his mother and father barked in unison.
He groaned.
"Is it true?" Voronwe was breathless from his run across the way. "Is Maeglin dead?"
They nodded.
"The Eldar will never again know such a villain! Long may Mandos hold him in his keeping!"
"If only his death could undo his deeds," Tuor sighed.
"He would have sown greater evil had he lived."
"I am glad he is dead!" Earendel fumed. "He was a monster and hurt my mother! But you saved us and killed him, Ada!"
"Yes," Idril kissed her husband. "You saved us, my love."
Tuor pressed her to him but knew the danger had not passed. The city was falling.
"Where is my father?" Idril asked.
Tuor frowned, "He is still in his tower."
Idril merely stared. She always knew her father would never abandon his city, even if it meant losing everything. Even if it meant losing her and Tuor and his beloved grandson. But now Tuor got it into his head that they might save him too.
"Voronwe, you must go with my wife and son. It may well be that Maeglin has other agents or the Enemy was part of his vile plan to seize my wife and murder my child. I must try one last time to save the king."
Idril clasped his arm in a desperate grip, "You must not! If my father has decided to go down with the city, do not risk yourself further!"
"I must at least try!"
"Then I will go with you! It is my father you speak of, not your own. Voronwe will keep our babe safe."
"I cannot-"
"They will be searching for the White Lady with a child in arms, not a mariner with his son in tow. Nor a soldier with a shield maiden at his side."
"Keep close."
"Ada! Mamil!" Earendel did not like this.
"Keep close to Voronwe!" Idril commanded him.
Voronwe made for the Children's Tunnel as Tuor and Idril made for the heart of the city. She clutched Maeglin's blade in her arms. She had half a mind to cast it away, having a feeling that it was cursed, but she had no weapon herself. They gathered whatever soldiers they came upon about them and rescued a few maids and children from fire and Orcs. They told them of the tunnel and sent them to escape. There was fire breaking out everywhere. The Enemy's machinery cast great balls of flame where they could. Dragons were scaling the walls, breathing ice, fire, and lightning. Sometimes they merely spewed forth foul black liquid.
"The House of Healing is burning!" a soldier cried in despair.
"The House itself does not heal anyone. Pray instead that the healers and the wounded did not burn inside it!" said another.
Tuor and Idril could see that the palace was ablaze as well as the King's tower. Idril wailed and Tuor prepared to run toward the palace in a desperate attempt to save his liege lord, but Idril dropped to her hands and feet and clasped his knees. He almost fell forward but managed to catch his balance. He could not help but be annoyed.
"Let go, Idril!"
"Stop!" she cried. "You will be killed!"
"Your father is in there!" he reminded her.
"Too well do I know it!" she answered. "He had chosen death! I cannot allow you to do the same! Do not leave me!"
He struggled, but she would not let go. Frantic tears fell from her cheeks and stung her eyes almost as bad as the smoke. And then the flames roared and the tower and all the rest began to collapse. ruble, pillars of smoke, burning wood and mortar crashed to the ground, crushing all in its path. Even one of the dragons lurking nearby that had slaughtered Ecthelion caught some of the damage and lay like a coiled rope seething steam. As its final breaths vaporized and the dust settled, some semblance of vision returned. Had Tuor dashed off to climb the tower, he would have certainly been killed.
"Once again your love has saved me. They might say your actions were desperate or foolish. I know better."
Tuor stooped and kissed her lips. They tasted the salt of one another's tears. Though they had been saved, one of the last Elven-kings and a father had perished. They could only spare a few tears now. Later they would keen their grief. There was nothing left but to make good their escape.
He lifted her to her feet and they ran, leaving the city of Gondolin to her fate. There was toxic fumes rising up the hill and the smoke from the fire alone was becoming stifling. The cold darkness of the tunnels was a more than welcome respite. They walked hand in hand, hoping that their son would be reunited with them and that more than a mere handful of the populace had been spared.
"Ada!" they recognized a child's voice. "Mamil!"
They sprang to greet him. The Golodrim, or what was left of them, were huddled at the exit, fearful to venture forth and reluctant to abandon any last survivors, especially with no clear word from their king or his kin. There were fewer women and children than they had counted upon. Too many mothers missing and too many dead fathers. Orphaned Elf-children cried inconsolably.
Of the Elf-lords, only Glorfindel was left, "Where is King Turgon and Prince Maeglin?"
"Maeglin is dead," Idril answered. "Even if he were not, he was a turn cloak and secret servant of Morgoth."
"Maeglin, a traitor!"
"It is true," Tuor and Voronwe confirmed it. "And the King died in the city he so loved. You heard his last command. We are free."
"Grand Ada is dead?" Earendel squeaked.
"So many are."
The boy became silent and sad. Where once his happiness had been impossible to dampen, the fall of Gondolin forever changed him. As he grew older and was able to comprehend the tragedy, he wondered at the betrayal of Maeglin. He grew to admire and respect his mother's resourcefulness, his father's courage, and his love for his family. It was then he began to realize that there was evil even in the Eldar and that the Second born were not so different. There was much to admire in the race of Man. He would later question the Valar and the role they played and seek those answers even if it meant risking his very life.
"I suppose this makes you Queen, Idril Celebrindal," Glorfindel sighed. "And Tuor is your Royal Consort."
"We shall lead the people, but do not give me that title," Idril said softly. "Gondolin is no more. There is no kingdom. We can no longer be called Golodrim. We are Exiles once more. There are no kings or queens among exiles."
"Command us, White Lady."
"We must not linger. We have no resources and the tunnel will soon be discovered. The Enemy has been victorious this day, but we yet live. The Exiles of Doriath do as well. We must gather our people, all of them, not just the Noldor. We must flee south to the Mouths of Sirion."
"I can guide us there," Voronwe volunteered. "And I can see the lands of Nan-thatren once again."
Idril and Tuor tried to comfort the people. They were wracked with grief but spared the full impact of it because of the shock and the knowledge that they were all orphans now and ever in peril. With Maeglin's betrayal, the Golden Age of the Elder days were over.
*******
*Final Notes*
The Exiles of Gondolin were accosted by a Balrog as they journeyed South. Glorfindel remained behind and fought it so that the rest of his people could escape. They slew each other. It is heavily implied that he was later reborn in the Third Age and is the same Glorfindel that played a small part in the Lord of the Rings. The Noldor wound up at the Mouths of Sirion after all, which became the last refuge of nearly all the Eldar. Voronwe remained in Nan-thathren and ended his days there. The Noldor comingled with the Sindar, or the Exiles of the Hidden Kingdom of Doriath. Among these was Elwing the granddaughter of Princess Luthien and Beren, another Man and Elf mating. She was close in age with Earendel and lived a disastrous beginning of life. Her family was slain by the Sons of Feanor in the worst Kinslaying committed by Elves yet. With her was the Silmaril and the hopes and dreams of her people. She wed Earendel to produce the twins Elrond and Elors. Tuor and Idril would sail across the Sea when Earendel came of age, vanishing together. It is said that they found long lost Valinor. Because Tuor was Ulmo's Chosen, he was accounted among the Eldar and granted immortality. Earendel and Elwing would choose the twilight of the Elves as well. But the twins Elrond and Elros chose otherwise. Elros became mortal and birthed the nation and race of the Numenor, Half-Elf men. Elrond would choose the twilight but ever be called Elrond Half-Elven and comes to us as so in Lord of the Rings. Earendel became the child of prophecy indeed. He spoke to the Valar, redeemed the Noldor at last, and in a terrible final battle Morgoth was overthrown and chained by Tulkas. The Elves never recovered, however, their former glory.
Maeglin would remain the most tragic and twisted of villains in the history of the Eldar.

The End

Part 7 The Betrayal

Tuor and Idril approached the King with some apprehension, but they clasped each other's hands for strength and resolve. They had decided to announce themselves to him privately and they were not entirely certain how he may react.
"Ah, my golden children," Turgon greeted them with a smile. "What can I do for you?"
"Father..." Idril struggled.
"We have come to announce that we intend to get married. We ask for your blessing," Tuor said simply.
They braced themselves. Turgon was speechless for a moment. Then he opened his mouth and let out an unmistakable shout of joy. It startled the new couple. Then Turgon embraced them both.
"This is wonderful news!" he exclaimed. "We shall have a wedding such as never been seen before or shall be! We should hold it in the Great Market! There shall be music and dancing..."
He continued on and on with his plans. Tuor and Idril were pleasantly surprised. They had half-expected rage and rejection rather than joy and acceptance. But Tuor had already proven himself to Turgon simply by finding Gondolin. He was Ulmo's Messenger, and Turgon remembered the words Huor had spoken and understood them completely now.
From you and from me, a new star shall rise.
Besides, Turgon knew he could do nothing to prevent such a coupling from occurring even if he tried. Thingol had done everything in his power to destroy Beren, his daughter's mortal lover. All his plotting merely backfired and he lost his daughter forever instead. Turgon sincerely loved Tuor, and so high was he in his favor that he would not deny him even the hand of his daughter. It was also the first time that when he looked into her eyes, they appeared hopeful and happy instead of aloof and sorrowful. He was grateful that Tuor had inspired that.
The King announced the wedding to the whole city, and the people were jubilant. Weddings were always a matter of import and celebration, but this was to be the wedding of Turgon's only child, their beautiful Princess Idril, to Tuor whom the people had quickly grown to love. They speculated already upon the children the couple might produce. It was rumored that Beren and Luthien had a son of Three-fold race whom they had named Dior and made Thingol's heir. Half-Elves, it seemed, could choose their own fate. Would Idril's children choose to become heirs to Turgon? what would a Half-Elf look like? They considered it a matter of pride that soon they would be blessed with such a union and unique child. The mingling of Men and Elves would bring color and variety to the kingdom.
Maeglin could not believe the news at first. He had hoped he had threatened Idril enough that she would have stayed away from Tuor. It seemed he had only frightened her, sabotaged himself, and encouraged her more than ever to pursue Tuor. Now there was no chance in heaven or hell that Maeglin could win Idril. Tuor was mortal and would die, but Idril would live on and carry his memory long after he was dust if she had his children to cling to. Most maidens of the Eldar never sought another lover once their husband was dead or bonded with another in such a way. They did not love as mortals loved. They cherished instead their children and looked forward to the day that their mate was reincarnated. Idril had never been one to seek many lovers. She may decide to become mortal herself and age and die to follow Tuor beyond the Sundering Seas as Luthien had chosen to do. Then she would really be lost forever. Maeglin was enraged, heartbroken, and jealous.
The marriage also threatened his own political power and relationship with the king. Idril may be Turgon's only child of his body, but she had otherwise been a weak candidate for the throne compared to Maeglin. She was female, and though her gender was not an obvious crutch, there had never been a single Queen that rules soley on her own among the Eldar. Not even in Doriath. Melian the Maia was considered a powerful queen. She guarded the realm with her magic, had shared her wisdom with the people and especially to her husband. But she had married into the role, had never marched in war, and often advised her husband and allowed him to make the final decisions. He did not always listen. Idril had gone many years without involving herself too much politically or even socially at court. She had never expressed very much interest or ambitions about becoming Queen. On the contrary, she was reluctant and afraid to rule in her youth. She had never courted powerful Elf-lords that would prove valuable partners, domineering ones that would probably inevitably become the true power behind the crown, or even insipid minor lords to serve the purpose of a stud to produce heirs. It was not even known yet if Idril could bear heirs.
The Eldar often found it difficult to reproduce. They enjoyed bonding, but almost all of the Eldar were infertile. Most couples only had one child after centuries of hard work. On rare occasions, such as the case of Feanor and Nerdanel, they might produce seven within a few decades. The usual rule was that the Elf maid was willing, eager, and her courses coincided with the act. Elf women produced a certain finite number of eggs that released when they willed it. The male also had to be willing and eager and produced less seed than human males. Because the chances were so low, they required much more discipline, timing, and care. Sometimes they were overcautious. They waited for the perfect mate, then waited for long intervals of peace. They considered it careless to have children during times of warfare and crisis. 'Accidental' births almost never happened. Young Elf couples told themselves they had all the time in the world for children. Only royal families really required the assurance of children. They above all others were encouraged to have as many children as possible and to choose among them the most capable heir to the throne.
Maeglin's birth had been unnatural. Aredhel had not become a wife and mother wholly willingly. Eol had seduced her aggressively with a dangerous mix of drugs and brute force. He used deceit to make her feel safe and to create a platonic bond. He used powerful drugs to make them both fertile and to confuse Aredhel's senses. He used force in the act itself and to keep her prisoner. The Eldar were ever uncomfortable about the subject and too ashamed to admit one of their own could engage in the twisted and tragic crime of rape. They simply explained in their history that Eol had used 'enchantments' to seduce Aredhel. No more was ever written or discussed. Maeglin wished his father had taught him the secret of such drugs, especially the fertility drugs. It would have made Eol wealthy indeed if he had made a potion of it and sold it. So many more children would be running through the streets. The Eldar would not have simply diminished in number and therefore weakened. He might have sold it to the Dwarves too but their problem was not infertility. They simply had too many sons and female births were rare. Eol had guarded the secret jealously. He valued his secrets more than treasures, much like the Dwarves. There was no way he would ever aid the Noldor in anything and he felt betrayed even by his own kin.
Aredhel had come close to discovering the secret, Maeglin suspected, but never fully grasped it. Instead she managed to reverse the effects of whatever it was the Dark Elf inflicted upon her. She was a Huntress, not a healer or as obsessed with plants and herbs as Eol was, but being a child of Nature she knew a good deal of herbology and made herself sterile. Over time, she could even resist his mind altering poisons too. Maeglin had no proof, but he always suspected that his father had given her small pinches of some mysterious drug to make her more docile. In the end, it was his psychological hold upon her was far worse. If Aredhel had lived and wed Engner, the one she had truly loved, they would have never had their own children and she may have never fully recovered her old self. She was only a shadow of the strong, bold, confident maiden that once had been.
It was questionable whether or not Maeglin would ever have a family of his own either, which put him at a disadvantage now. Idril had recently become much more involved in politics thanks to Tuor's encouragement. She had quite a voice and was more popular among the small folk. If she produced a child, especially a male child, Maeglin was most likely doomed. He had no children. He had no wife. He had even stopped courting maids. He was liked well enough by the mob, but he was becoming less popular. He had as many enemies at court as he had allies.
The wedding took place upon the eve of Spring. It was remembered as a day of great joy to the Golodrim and also to Idril and Tuor. As Turgon had insisted it was held at the Temple of the Gods with lavish ceremony at dusk with a rowdy feast in the great market that night. The ceremony was smooth and solemn. The Golodrim sang hymns as Turgon presented his daughter to her groom. They clasped hands and exchanged vows. As the people sang softly and Turgon made a speech and asked for blessings, Tuor and Idril had eyes only for each other. They smiled and when they were pronounced, they exchanged a long, lingering kiss to the delight of the crowd. The Market was lit with hanging lamps. Every minstrel played as the Golodrim laughed and clapped and danced in circles, rows, and pairs. Each stall was filled with delicious food and wine instead of water filled the fountains for the occasion. One long table was placed in the center for the bride, groom, and most of the royal household.
There were many toasts, japes, tears, demands, gifts, and congratulations. Turgon was the most boisterous of them all and beamed with pride. Engner was as proud as though Idril were his own daughter. Voronwe clapped Tuor upon the back. Everyone was in good spirits save for one person. Maeglin was carrying on badly. He drank more than anyone else. Though he toasted to the bride and groom, his tone was mocking and he did not swallow. When no one was glancing he spit it out. He made cruel jests about Tuor's manhood and what was expected of him in the bedroom. He aimed similar jokes at Idril, pointing out and complimenting the curves of her body. Most laughed and excused him because he was drunk. But there were other drunkards and even some of the most seasoned lost their heads a little. Maeglin had held his liquor well in the past. His own men were embarrassed and apologized for him. Maeglin did not even want to be there, but it would have been highly suspicious if he was the only citizen of Gondolin who was not at the wedding. His hatred and jealousy threatened to explode at any time. His japes became more venomous and tasteless. Engner was watching him carefully.
"A kiss!" someone shouted. "Let us see a kiss!"
"Kiss! Kiss!" soon the entire crowd took up the cry.
Idril blushed and covered her face. Tuor took her hand, his eyes twinkling eagerly.
"Shall we give them what they want?"
"What they want or what you want?" she grinned.
There was a roar of laughter and the couple complied and kissed passionately. There were cheers but the crowd was not satisfied. They wanted to see them dance now. Maeglin could stand no more. He wanted to vomit. He excused himself and apologized to Turgon who simply nodded in response. Everyone could see that he was way too drunk and was doing right by all accounts. No one really noted the Prince as his Moles escorted him away, not even Idril. For now, his shadow was not over her. She was with Tuor, and to him, the warning of Ulmo seemed faint and far off.

The next year the Golodrim erupted into celebration yet again when Idril gave birth to a son. The newlyweds had wasted no time, not only because of Tuor's mortality, but because both Tuor and Idril inherently sensed that Gondolin's time was short as well. The news elsewhere in the world was grim. Nargothrond had fallen and Doriath had been destroyed from within. Luthien and Beren's son Dior was trying to restore the Hidden Kingdom, but the famous lovers had disappeared from the face of Arda, and with them went a great deal of hope, especially for the Sindar. The Goldorim were disturbed by such tidings but remained confident that their beloved city would forever be immune to such disasters.
They named their son Earendel. He took after the Noldor and looked very much like his grandfather King Turgon. Even though both his parents had golden hair, his was dark. Idril's eyes were gray, Tuor's green, but their son had eyes of deep blue. He was fair of face and form and had Turgon's laugh. Even as a babe he had a hearty, boisterous laugh. He carried himself with the grace of his mother and she suspected he had inherited some of her foresight. But he was drawn to water as his father was and from his early years was fascinated with his father's tales of Mankind, Ulmo, and the Sea. The first thing he did when he learned to crawl was to crawl straight toward the fountains. Idril was terrified that he would drown until she realized he could swim like a minnow and laughed as he splashed about. After that, the whole family had their own private fountain and swam together.
Turgon loved all members of his family, but Earndel soon became the apple of his eye. He was proud to be a grandsire, pleased that the child looked so much like him, and was convinced he was a child of prophecy. The infant was uncommonly sweet and beautiful and seemed to love Turgon equally. The mere sound of his voice made him laugh. Having an infant around again, Turgon decided, was a blessing. But Earendel was growing fast. Turgon feared if he so much as blinked, the babe would be half-grown. He thought of how he had taken Idril's childhood for granted and felt ashamed.
"I swear the boy doubles in size every week!" Turgon exclaimed when Idril placed him in his lap. "I would very much like to see him more often."
"Very well, milord," Idril said with a smile. "That would be better for everyone. I can catch more sleep and Earendel adores you."
"I would very much like to see more of you as well, Idril," Turgon said with all seriousness. "You and Tuor could move your apartments closer to my own chambers within the palace. Then I could see my family daily, as I ought to."
"That is a sweet gesture," Idril knitted her eyebrows. "But then you would find it impossible to regain the time you had for your work, the city, yourself. If we lived so close, Earndel may wake you in the night with his crying or Tuor and I if we should have disputes. It would cause you undue stress."
"It would be an honor to be part of your life, Idril; the one you go to for advice, for comfort, for companionship. I feel I cheated you and you deserved better."
"How did you cheat me?"
"I could have been a better father. For too long, I was angry with myself for your mother's death. I was even angry at her. A small part of me warned that taking her from Valinor was a mistake....

Maeglin was angry and it was one of those days where his anger consumed him. He took a walk about the palace and considered going down into his forge until he spotted Idril from the balconies. He watched her from afar.
She was playing with her son in the fountains, wearing a simple white dress and was knee deep in water. She was pulling Earendel gently about the waters, dipping him, cooing and laughing as she allowed him to try to float and splash his little arms and feet. The babe howled with laughter and then howled again, but his pitch and tone had changed drastically. He was hungry. There was a team of attendants to aid her. She had accepted them only after her father insisted. She was grateful for their company now that she had come to realize that even the best parents needed help once in a while. In this instance, however, she knew exactly what do to. She had come to recognize the unique cries that a baby made when they needed food or sleep or had wetted. She sat near the edge of the pool and began nursing using a cloth to cover herself and the baby. He was soaking wet and shivering, yet he loved the water so much.
Tuor arrived and kissed his wife lovingly. Then he stepped into the pool with his son, wondering if the babe could somehow sense the presence of Ulmo as he had when he was a young child. If his son had been born with the Sea longing, he may be miserable if he remained in the city for long. Perhaps he would grow up to be the first Mariner King. Perhaps he would be called by Ulmo for some special task as Tuor had been. Instead of being called to wander the waters of the Sea or to slay a dragon, he had been tasked to find the Hidden City to be a simple messenger. And to wed an Elf-Princess. He would never have never guessed such would be his fate and suspected that not even the Valar had known either. They knew the Music, but not the Method or the Message of the One. However, as strange as it seemed, it had worked out for Tour and the Sea longing for the moment seemed cured as he splashed playfully at his wife and son.
Maeglin could not watch any more. He decided to venture out to the Echoriath alone so that he could calm his rage and plot some way to regain his formal glory. While he was out there he hoped to find a new claim of mithril or some other precious metal. The stone had always sang to him ever since he was a child. He attached no deity to it, but it was a comfort to him nonetheless at times to remain surrounded by the singing stones. The people might speak more positively of him if he brought more wealth into the city. They spoke only of Earendel and the recent announcement Turgon had made: That Idril was the official heir and her son after her. It ruined his chances of becoming King.
Turgon was convinced that Earendel was a Child of Prophecy thanks to Huor's words and that the boy would choose the Twilight of the Elves, not the Doom of Man. He was certain that if the Valar saw this mingling of Races it would strengthen both the Eldar and Mankind and the Valar would see and revoke the Doom of Mandos. He seemed to have forgotten Maeglin. He had become much closer to Idril.
She should be mine, Maeglin thought to himself. It should be my own babe at her breast. Her claim should be mine. Is it not just as conceivable that my son would be a child of destiny? A child born of pure blood rather than mixed? A child whose father would at least live long enough to see the fruit of his seed grow and ripen? Oh, Idril, what do you see in that mortal?
He found it just as maddening to watch Idril kiss and cuddle her baby as it was to witness passionate kisses between Tuor and Idril. If he had been allowed one moment alone with the brat, Maeglin would have strangled him in his crib. He laughed at the irony when Tuor named Maeglin the babe's godfather. He was so incredibly oblivious to Maeglin's true feelings and so eager to befriend his wife's kinsman he had announced it after Turgon pronounced the child an heir. A quick glance at Idril revealed that she was not pleased with the impulsive decision, though her expression was so subtle only his sharp glance caught it. Maeglin could not refuse the damnable honor, and so he held the child in his arms and made sure to shower him with the proper gifts.
Perhaps he could take advantage of Tuor's blind trust. His father Eol had taught him of poisons and the less obvious ways to use them. He had vowed to himself once that he would never stoop so low, but the idea proved more and more tempting every day. He had to be very careful that the poison could not be traced back to him. It was not so strange for mortals to grow ill and die with little to no explanation. It was not uncommon for Elf-children to fall ill and perish either. He wondered if he could poison a cloak and give it to Tuor or seek some plague infested blanket to give to Earendel. He could even find a way to drug Idril, not to harm her, but to destroy her child. The ill effects of the drug would pass into her breast milk and Earendel would suck whatever poison it contained, sparing Idril and condemning the child. With both husband and son dead, even the strongest of mind and body could crack. Idril would be vulnerable and might seek warmth and comfort from anywhere...
Suddenly an arrow screeched through the air. Maeglin caught it in his swordarm. He let out a cry of rage, too shocked to even feel pain. It was then that Orcs crawled out from between stones where they had been hiding. Maeglin scowled and drew his sword with his uninjured arm, wishing he had trained more often with it. It felt clumsy and awkward and his swordplay suffered greatly from the handicap. He counted the Orcs and observed their gear. There were three score and armed lightly for stealth, but what little they had would prove affective. They were much smarter and more skilled than the average Orc. They were dangerously close to Gondolin and had not been spotted and killed by the Eagles.
Maeglin knew he had little chance, but he was no coward. He fought bravely and managed to kill one of them and injured several others before he was overwhelmed. He cursed himself for wandering so far alone. For once, his paranoia and assassins would have served him well. The Orcs tied his hands and legs and argued furiously about what to do with him. They stripped him of whatever valuables he had. Then they inspected him and saw that he was muscular and strong. He might make a good thrall. Others demanded to avenge those he had slaughtered. These Orcs were scouts, not slavers. Dragging along a captive would slow them down or blow their cover. Unless the prisoner proved more valaube than they imagined, they may have no choice but to kill him.
Maeglin listened to their debating and knew if he allowed them, he would be slain sooner or later. He refused to lose control. He refused to be a victim. Perhaps he could manipulate them. He was determined to outsmart the Orcs.
"Know you not that I am Maeglin nephew to Turgon?" he said.
"What is that to us?" they growled in response.
Maeglin laughed, "Do you Orcs know nothing of your enemies? I am Prince of the Hidden City!"
"You are a liar trying to save your own skin!"
"Oh, am I?"
"The Hidden City is a place made up by you fairies to give hope to th weak and to stir rebillion in thralls."
"Is it?"
Maeglin began to describe the city, giving them no details that would betray its secrets but prove that he at least had extensive knowledge. He described the great fountains, some of which fired into the air over thirty feet. He described the walls of polished white stone and gave their dimensions and their thickness. He boasted of the uniforms the soldiers wore and of Turgon's rod and sword. He described the beauty of Idril Celebrindal and the other maidens of Gondolin. As the Orcs listened, they became envious and more and more angry. He made the city sound so glorious and fair. They thought of Angband, their Master's city that sounded pale in comparison. They did not want to believe him. Surely there was no greater city than their own. Their captive was exaggerating and spinning webs of lies. They drew a cruel looking axe.
"Spill my blood and it will cost you dearly!" Maeglin cried. "You fools!"
"So long as you are dead and this meeting unheard of, it will cost us nothing."
"Take me to Morgoth then," Maeglin blurted out. "Let him decide if I speak the truth!"
"Do you have a death wish, Elf?"
The Orcs were perplexed. None of their captives had ever requested to be brought before Morgoth, and the Orcs refused to mention their Master by any name but only by title.
"If I had a death wish, ape, I would have let you use that axe. You WILL take me to your Master and you will treat me according to my station. No doubt Morgoth will reward you. In the meantime, I will remember every insult, every cut and bruise. I will remember all! You would be wise to treat me well. If nothing else, you will gain a talented smith. The sword I carry and that you took was made by my father. The armor I was wearing is my own handiwork. Now let us speedily be on our way. Cut the ropes about my ankles and I shall keep a better pace than the lot of you."
"You make many demands, Elf. Too many. No doubt you would set a fast pace as you try to run off!" the Orc spat in his face. "Until you prove you are worthy to breathe our air, you'll get no special treatment!"
Maeglin was relieved that for the moment he was alive, but a new dread was in his heart now. What had he been thinking when he asked to see MORGOTH! He felt ashamed that he had even described the irrelevant details of Gondolin, the sorts of things his mother had told him as they sat before the fire long ago in the shadows of Nan Elmoth. He should have let the Orcs use their axe. He had only delayed his fate and endangered the last of the Hidden Kingdoms and all those he loved. Simply by capturing him the Enemy now knew that they were closer than ever before to finally discovering the city itself.
Was he a coward? No, he told himself. He had betrayed nothing yet. There may be an opportunity to escape upon the road. But such a chance never came. The Orcs kept him bound and guarded at all times. They did not return his clothing or equipment and never rested. It grew more overcast as they drew closer to Angband. His captors need not worry about the sun anymore. Maeglin watched the sky, hoping that the Eagles would come to his rescue. But Thorondor and his ilk must have flown south for the season. Maeglin's last hope was crushed and his anger replaced it. He had always felt that the Golodrim relied too heavily upon the feathered race.
By the time they reached Angband, Maeglin's feet were cut up and bruised as were his wrists and ankles from the ropes. He was shivering and ill from the long exposure to the elements with no food or water. He was thoroughly humiliated and terrified. He was dragged through the Thrall Vaults before he was brought before the Iron Throne in case he was not frightened enough. Most of the Elves were worked so hard that they had aged like mortals and were mercilessly beaten if they so much as paused. The maidens were kept elsewhere and were used not as thralls of labor but instead as breeding mares to keep the Orc population replenished. Maeglin was one of the first to learn that terrible secret.
Morgoth was a horror to behold. He was gigantic in stature and covered head to toe in cruel iron armor. It was hard to believe that he had once been fair. When he chose to become part of the Marred World, he was forced to take a physical form and chose to be terrifying. He still wore the Iron Crown but had placed a diamond in the empty socket where the third Silmaril had once been before it was stolen by Beren and Luthien. He covered his face as well save for his deadly eyes. Only two people upon the earth had proven they could withstand his piercing gaze: Luthien and Hurin.
"I have been told that this sniveling worm wishes to sell out the secrets of the last remaining Hidden Kingdom for his life!" Morgoth sneered. "Is it so?"
Maeglin knew what his fate would be if he refused to break his silence. He would be tortured by the Balrogs to the point of death then slain or put with the other miserable thralls. He could not let that happen.
"Oh, Melkor Master of Arda, you have only to command me, and I shall do as you command. I am no enemy of yours, but your servant."
"Thou art the son of Aredhel and nephew of King Turgon and a traitor and rebel by birth!"
"There are some among the Eldar that worship you in secret and live amongst the others in fear. I am not Noldoli, but Telerian through my father Eol the Dark Elf. When my mother brought me to the Hidden City, it was to convert me from his ways. After Turgon had him executed when he rightfully pursued us, I had no choice but to remain and to live as one of them or suffer the same fate. I am my father's son still."
His words were twisted and vile. He knew it was so even as he said them, but something possessed and bewitched him. His will to survive had taken control. His loyalty to Turgon and Gondolin was forgotten. He was able to claim kinship to the father he had always hated and to praise and flatter Morgoth with minimal effort. A small voice inside him screamed against it. He should rather curse the Dark Lord and keep his lips sealed forever. He should endure his torment and die with honor. But the voice was weak and faltering by the moment.
Morgoth was suspicious. The last time he allowed himself to be seduced by flattery and charm, he had lost a Silmaril and the fairest of all maidens had slipped from his grasp. He was impressed that Maeglin used his ancient name Melkor and that the Elf seemed more than willing to cooperate. So eager was he to destroy the last true stronghold of the Elves that he was feeling generous enough to spare Maeglin from torture and more, especially after Maeglin's pronouncement:
"I know the secrets of Gondolin. I will tell you all, for it profits the both of us should Turgon fall and the Noldor set straight for good. I ask for so little, and you gain so much. If my bonds were cut, I could start drawing maps."
Morgoth was so overjoyed that he had Maeglin's bonds removed. He was robed in riches and given food, wine, and treatment for his wounds. Maeglin drew detailed maps, described the numbers of the armies. He told of the weapons, the names of generals and other leaders and everything else the Dark Lord wanted to know.
"You have done well, Elf," Morgoth said. "For this, you shall be spared."
Maeglin was relieved, but he realized at once that was not enough. Now that he had truly betrayed Gondolin, nothing else mattered. He might as well request whatever he desired.
"I could remain here and labor as a miserable thrall. I could craft you poisons and weapons and armor, or I could return to Gondolin and act as your spy and infiltrator. I am close to the King," he explained. "To be frank, Turgon is a fool. He would never suspect me. I can prepare the city for you, spread fear and doubt, even shed blood if need be. I would ask only for what I deem reasonable as a reward."
"What reward wouldst thou require?" Morgoth decided to humor him.
"Lordship of Gondolin upon Turgon's death or capture. The city shall be ruled in you name, but not obliterated off the face of the map. I plan to build it anew and make it greater than it was before."
"What else?"
Maeglin took a long draught of wine before he answered, "You may slay or enslave any maiden of Gondolin save one. That would be Idril Celebrindal daughter of Turgon. No harm shall befall her. Should she be captured, she is to be delivered to me promptly."
A quick look into Maeglin's eyes revealed to Morgoth his thoughts and the Dark Lord slowly smiled and his eyes danced, "Thine own cousin? How very... interesting. Anything else?"
Maeglin took another drink, "Aye. There is the matter of her son and husband. I want them destroyed."
Morgoth laughed maniacally and said, "It shall be so! Thou shalt prepare the way for my armies and in return thou shalt rule it as a fiefdom of Angband. Tuor and Earendel shall be burned and Princess Idril will be delivered to thy arms."
Maeglin quivered at the thought. Hatred for Tuor and desire for Idril had led him all the easier to his treachery. The small voice that had held him back was gone now.
"Return to the Hidden City now, Elf," Morgoth said. "Act as though nothing has happened and continue to report every year to one of my scouts. You shall serve me still by convincing Turgon that all is well and the threat is gone. Gather others of like mind. Put weaknesses in the walls and in the people wherever thou canst and prepare the way for the Fall of Gondolin. I hope that thou can keep up pretenses."
"Believe me, I have worn a mask and hid my true self all of my life."
"Know this," Morgoth's tone became menacing. "Should thou fail to report or if the city is somehow forewarned, I shall know of it. Then thou shall be sought out and given to my Balrogs to be tortured daily for the rest of eternity! There is nothing worse than a turncloak that double crosses his Master."
"You have no need for such threats, my lord," Maeglin answered. "You have given me more than I was ever promised from any one else. I am yours."
Morgoth pierced him with his eyes and read his heart to remove all doubt of his loyalty. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that what Maeglin claimed was true. He had given his heart and soul to Morgoth. He willingly served Morgoth now and forever.
"I was told that thou was mining for ores alone in the mountains when captured. So that your long absence may be explained, I give thee these riches."
A sack of mithril, gold, and other precious ores was cast at Maeglin's feet. It was full to near bursting.
"My Master is indeed generous," Maeglin grinned.
"Indeed. Is there anything else before I send thee on thy way?"
"Oh yes!" Maeglin remembered suddenly. "I would like the same Orcs brought to me that dragged me here."
The Orcs entered, no doubt expecting some sort of reward. Maeglin drew his sword and glowered at them.
"Do you remember that I told you I was a valuable prisoner and you all laughed and did not believe me? Well, I serve the Master now. You will recall as well that I would count every grievance of mine against you? Well, I remember every bruise and fall. When I asked for water, you merely spat in my face. When I asked for food, I was kicked repeatedly in the stomach to make the pains of hunger worse. I asked for rest, I was licked with the whip."
As he spoke the Orcs began to whimper and tremble. They cried out to Morgoth for mercy. The Dark Lord merely watched with mild interest. Maeglin struck them down, butchering them until their black blood pooled upon the stone and nothing moved.
"Shall I give thee Men to escort thee back to Gondolin?" Morgoth offered.
"No," Maeglin replied. "I much prefer the company of Orcs."