Title: The Falling Fountain
Author: Andrannath Mírdaneg, andrannath@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Glorfindel/Ecthelion
Disclaimer: Would I really spend my time writing about them if I owned them?! Right! I''d be
between them every freaking minute!!!
Beta: TWolfe; all the remaining mistakes are mine.
Timeline: First Age, 510.
Notes and summary: The peace is ending for the two lifelong friends.
~*~*~*~
He was desperate already. There was roaring and thundering outside; signs of battle. The walls of
his house were shaking. Somehow, no matter how convincing the masons were that the house
was practically indestructible he knew that this was no earthquake or hail. This was, in a way, all
that he was living for, all that he had prepared to die for.
His army was already outside, waiting for their commander. But he knew he needed to give them
a few more minutes; they all needed them, no matter how precious they were. And he had to find
his armour.
""Maerwen!"" he screamed after the girl running, avoiding the falling sculptures and plates. Who
would have thought that a household so empty and clean like his own was still filled with so
many breakable things? She noticed him in an instant, and started running towards him.
""Master……"" she lost her breath, falling into his arms.
""Minuial? Maldor? Alagos?"" he yelled one name after the other, but the girl shook her head
every time.
""Upper rooms are all lost. We were trying to cover the windows……"" A loud crash outside
that sounded like cracking of the stone stopped her. ""I made it and they did not."" She lowered
her head.
""Maerwen, listen to me!"" he shook her, noticing that she was losing her focus from the shock.
Her blurry eyes managed to meet with his. ""My men are outside. You will be safe with them.""
""But……"" she objected, wanting to stay with him. Tears appeared in her eyes. Frantic tears.
""Go!"" he yelled and pushed her. ""My work here is still not done,"" he whispered, doubting
she could hear him.
Part of the wall cracked and the ceiling was starting to fall apart. She did not object anymore. He
knew he did not have much time, so he ran quickly to the storage room. His armour and weapons
were safely hidden in there. It was a time of peace and prosperity and metal was used for
jewellery and not combat. Who would have known……?
The storage room was a mess, but he knew exactly where it was. He pulled the chest out and
opened it quickly. For a quick second, he thought about his soldiers. He hoped they had
everything ready by now. If not……
Those were the moves practiced for centuries upon centuries. Pull, move, place, buckle, push,
hit, pull, buckle, move his joints, arm, leg, leg, arm. Head. Sword. He was out before he was
even in. His eyes glanced at the staircase, or what was left of it.
There was a time. A time of…… harmony.
When they were both drunk. Maerwen was serving the port, smiling. She was one of the orphans
of the time before this time, and most of all she enjoyed company. They needed this rest, for
before that, they fought with Nibenon. He was remarkably good at combat, and they waged upon
who would last longer in battle with him. Ecthelion won, and now he was celebrating, gloating
was a better word for it.
They were so drunk that night. They did it right there on the staircase. A bit of pushing and
proving the manly supremacy, but mostly the old love between the friends. It was a kiss or two,
with a lot of raw power, lust.
""Come,"" Glorfindel pulled him, still trying to find enough balance to stand on his feet. He was
sore. There was no way that no one in the household heard them, even though they were
supposed to be sleeping. The two were so loud, laughing and falling, and not to mention when
they reached the bedroom. Alcohol could always release too much in them.
Maerwen was humming a cheerful melody whole day next day.
His fist was clutching the handle of the sword. Another blow. By the sound of it, part of the
ceiling in the back collapsed. Probably the kitchen or part of the corridor for the servants.
He didn''t have time to check. But running out was what made his blood turn to ice. The most
beautiful city of Gondolin, her walls and towers, everything was ruined. His second in command
quickly informed him with where the other Houses were going, and they both agreed that they
had to reach the Square of the King no matter what.
""To the Fountain!"" he yelled to the soldiers, after a quick glance towards Glorfindel. ""Follow
the flutes!""
""To the Fountain,"" Glorfindel whispered. ""I guess.""
Ecthelion looked at him with those knowing eyes and calm face. ""I promised to our Lady that I
would play for her.""
""I know."" Glorfindel sighed, his head still on the pillow. He loved to look at his lover like that,
strong muscles relaxed. ""But I would still rather have you all for myself.""
""That is called jealousy."" Ecthelion smiled. ""And it is not supposed to be a good emotion.""
Glorfindel pushed him down and pinned him to the soft mattress, placing himself on top of him.
""Supposed by whom?""
A quick kiss was exchanged, followed by laughter from both sides.
""To the Fountain, then?"" Ecthelion winked.
It was hard on him, to see all this that they have built being destroyed in such a constant and
permanent way. The tower of the Fountain was no more. The walls were cracked and the houses
were nothing but ruin. Precious sculptures and paintings, scriptures and instruments made by
those already gone, all priceless, and destroyed. He sometimes hated this constant urge of his
people to dwell in the past. Historians, most of them. Strong warriors, but still, historians. And dreamers.
And now their children could see the real Balrogs, instead of those in the stories. They could feel
the smell of burning flesh of the dragon''s flame. The lucky ones. The unlucky could feel it, too.
He hated these lost moments in the battle. His moves were so well practiced already that he
needed not think about them. And that could lead to mistakes, even death. But he had a bad
feeling about everything. He urged the soldiers to hurry, to reach their destination, for his
instincts were warning him not to lose a moment of this precious time.
And they came just in time to dig their way through corpses ruined beyond recognition.
Glorfindel did not know if he was stepping on the foul creatures or his friends, but there was no
time to waste.
""There''s no time to waste, come on."" Ecthelion''s voice was sweet. He was holding
Glorfindel''s hand, pulling him away from the crowd. Within a moment, they were in a deserted
corner of the back yard of Ecthelion''s house, fighting for air between rounds of ravishing one another.
They had to be quiet and fast, as someone would notice them missing. Glorfindel took him right
there, after maybe a minute of preparation. It was starting to interfere with their lives, this
enormous need for one another, but neither of them complained.
He was done in a moment, and Ecthelion simply kissed him before pulling his leggings back on.
""What about you?"" Glorfindel asked.
""No time for that."" Ecthelion smiled wickedly. ""But you will pay me for that.""
""You will pay me for that."" Ecthelion pushed the words between the harsh breaths, smiling
victoriously. But Glorfindel knew it was all fake. ""Go."" He pointed his head towards Tuor.
Glorfindel noticed the long burn on his left hand. ""What about you?"" he whispered.
""I have just slayed three Balrogs, so you better shut your mouth and do as I tell you.
Understand?"" He did not mean it the way it sounded, and Glorfindel knew it. This was just too
much for all of them, and they had to do what they had to do.
Just as he was about to move, hesitant still, his instinct warned him. Something was wrong. He
turned his head that very moment just to see a Balrog crashing down on Tuor. There was no time
to waste, he ran and jumped and pushed the human away. He could hear the sounds of battle near
him, and what he could see was none other but Ecthelion, pale face, losing strength, with no
shield, attacking the beast all by himself.
""Run!"" he screamed towards them, not moving his eyes away from the shadow, and there was
nothing Glorfindel could do. He grabbed the human by the arm and pulled him, away from this
battle. Away from…… him. He prayed that his lover would survive, but he knew more than well
this was not the time or place to think about it. He remembered all the oaths he ever took, and
defending the royal family, even if it meant with his life, was one of them.
But Tuor was stubborn and the moment he saw the armies of Turgon marching towards the
Square, he freed himself from the grip. Glorfindel wanted to talk him away from this futile battle,
for he knew there was nothing to be done, and he could see the mist rising from the King''s
Fountain and there was a voice inside him, telling him to go. Just to leave.
""I am not leaving without my wife!"" Tuor yelled, pulling away. Glorfindel begged, but half of
his words were swallowed by the noise of the battle. Tuor pulled him near and whispered to his
ear, ""Take care of my son,"" and then he left.
""My lord?"" the captain called him. Glorfindel just nodded and they moved towards the tunnels,
ordering his soldiers to take care of the handful of women and children he knew they would
encounter on the way.
""I am weary.""
""What of?"" Glorfindel raised his eyes from the cup of cooling tea in his hands. It was late in
the night and everything was quiet, only the two lords kept each other company in the vast study
of the House of the Fountain. As it was appropriate, they were surrounded by instruments. It had
given more than enough material for Glorfindel to tease him for his…… extravagance.
""Sometimes I feel this city is not as safe as we all hope it to be.""
""My love,"" he put the cup to the table near him. ""There is nothing to worry about. Besides,
our Lady is surely wiser than we are.""
Ecthelion smiled wearily. ""But still……""
""Still, you push your soldiers far too much.""
Ecthelion raised his eyes to meet Glorfindel''s. There was age in them, wisdom Glorfindel
thought he would never have.
They entered the tunnel without looking back. It was dark in here, but their eyes would accustom
to it. Quickly, Glorfindel searched for the child, hope of both people, and located him well
guarded and without a scratch. He asked around, trying to come up with a complete story of
everything that has happened, but soon they were all caught in what seemed like a strong
earthquake. Dust and rocks were falling off the ceiling and everyone hurried. He just hoped that
blow was from their side, but he somehow knew it was not.
It did not take long before they were caught up by a handful of remaining soldiers and weeping
mothers and their children. Idril held Eäärendil with all her strength and Tuor''s face told
Glorfindel more than he needed to know. The city was lost, and that was certain now.
They hurried along the well known path away from what they once called home, the most
beautiful dwelling that would always remain in their hearts. All their memories would surely
burn, if they had not been destroyed already. They were to create new history again.
If only he knew where Ecthelion was.
If only Ecthelion were here. He was sore and tired. Not to mention bored. That mare that he was
given by none other than his lover and was more stubborn than her previous owner. She managed
to trick him again and, before he knew it, he was down on the ground with a sore bottom and hurt
pride. He was certain that he could see the mare actually smile when looking at him down on the dirt.
What was worse, they even had to call in the healer, for his bruise turned out to be a bit more
than that. The bone had cracked. Thankfully, nothing moved, and all he needed to do now was
rest for a few weeks.
Horrible boring rest with nothing to do. Minuial was persistent at keeping him in bed, so she
made sure to sip in different potions and herbs into his meals. Approved by the healer, of course.
For a while, he thought he was losing his mind, but soon he got used to the fact that there was no
way he would get out of this bed alive.
And Ecthelion was nowhere to be found. Turned out that their Lady needed his immediate presence.
He thought he was going to die of boredom, he could feel his body gaining weight and his
muscles aching for some sort of action. Most of all, he was going to give this horse to Egalmoth
the moment he would be able to actually leave this place.
Tuor glanced at Glorfindel, those eyes saying more than words ever could. They got lost in the
mist. No one knew what happened to him. Or no one wanted to tell him.
At the moment, he just had to get out; he needed fresh air and freedom. He ran towards the exit
the moment his nose could feel it, but what awaited them there was not what they had expected.
Battle. Again.
Orcs were throwing rocks everywhere, as well as many had managed to reach them. The weary
soldiers had a yet another battle to fight; only this time it was easier.
Or so they thought.
Maybe, for a moment, they were certain that they would even win, and then another of the beasts
came. It landed right there, in front of them, eyes of darkness, the fire and the shadow, and
Glorfindel had nothing else to do but to jump at him before even being able to think.
And it was too much for his body to bear. Not a moment passed, and his bones were being
crushed by the rocks he was constantly thrust upon, his flesh burned by fire. He was certain he
would break, but he continued fighting nonetheless. He had to ensure that his people are safe, it
was his destiny, it was his existence.
The Balrog was hard and strong. Every punch he gave, he felt as though life was sucked out of
him, and every punch he received, he knew that he would lose it. The beast roared and burned his
flesh; he could the smell the burnt hair. In one tremendous blow, he found himself lying flat on
the rock, too sore to even feel. He had to give up, he had to lose. His armour was so hot that he
felt like he would cook inside his own skin.
Now he was certain Minuial was putting nothing in his dish anymore. His hips signalled that
with every heartbeat, sharp pain pulsing through his body, from his legs up to his spine. The
healer claimed that it was good, his body was recovering, though it felt anything but.
Headaches started as well, after weeks of lying in practically the same position, his neck muscles
were a mess. His entire back would probably need to be adjusted to walking after this was done.
He even hated the fact that his bathing routine consisted of a damp cloth and floral water.
The cramp in his back was the worst of them all, for sure. He did not know how the women
could stand the labour, for this seemed shockingly close to it, and equally unbearable.
Then two warm slick hands landed on his bare back, squeezing the muscles with expertise.
Lemony scent filled the room. He purred. ""Ecthelion?""
""Hush, my wounded warrior,"" Ecthelion whispered as his hands continued to rub the back,
slowly moving down, reaching the muscles still aching for attention.
He did not wish to move, it just felt too good. But curiosity was there, too. ""Where were you?""
Glorfindel whispered.
The hands stopped for a moment, and then continued swiftly. ""It was a secret. You would have
been summoned as well, but you were bed bound, and we could not have entrusted any
messenger. I shall tell you more about it later."" Not a word, except a few relaxing sighs, was
uttered in those precious moments. And when Ecthelion was done, he lowered his head to kiss
Glorfindel''s neck. ""You are stronger than you think,"" he whispered.
He managed to pull himself back together, somehow pushing aside the uncomfortable feeling.
Uncomfortable was certainly not a strong enough word. He made peace with the fact that he
would not survive this fight and attacked with all the strength that was left in him. The beast was
like a fortress, there was no way for him to reach it. But, for a short moment, it attacked him with
its whip. The whip hand was the nearest thing he had, and he swung his sword as hard as he
could, feeling it being melted by the hot flesh. The air around him was too hot to breathe, but he
did it. He actually hurt it enough to flee back a bit, to catch some air.
The Balrog was insane from pain. Nothing that it had done before was even close to what a hurt
beast could do. It screamed and roared so loud that Glorfindel''s ears hurt, and then it jumped at
him with all the remaining strength. Somehow, Glorfindel ducked and the Balrog fell. That very
second it was leaving the cliff, such relief filled Glorfindel''s heart, he even felt like smiling. A
thought crossed his mind, he would join his people and find his lover and, somehow, someday,
they would find refuge in some other city, or they would even build their own, and all would be
well. They had shown Melkor what it meant to wage war against the Elves, and they would be
safe, at least for a moment, that was certain.
The moment lasted exactly that, only a moment. Before he knew it, he felt sharp pain at the back
of his head, and the last thing he saw was the place he had been standing at quickly disappearing.
Those last few moments, those last few thoughts that ran through his head…… he wished that he
was alone all this time. His heart would have been empty, as well as the heart of that who he
loved. That way, this death would not mean much, but like this, it ached him too much to know
that there would be someone who would have suffered for him as much as he would have, if he
had to live and his lover not.
He hoped, for a moment, that this had a meaning. Just…… perhaps…… there was a reason that
he had died. Would Ecthelion miss him? What a sorrow it must be to remain alone through all
those ages yet to come. Perhaps there was a reason for it.
Perhaps.
A sweet familiar voice started whispering his name……
~*~*~*~
I used the names from Arwen Undomiel''s name translations:
Maerwen -- Good
Minuial -- Dawn
Maldor -- Land of Gold
Alagos -- Storm
Nibenon -- Small