Title: Tale of the Ancient Mariner

Author: Phyncke

Email: jhfink@sbcglobal.net

Rating: PG - NC17

Pairing: Voronwë/Glorfindel, Idril/Tuor

Warnings: Character death

Beta: khylea (and errors are mine)

For Request: Voronwë/Glorfindel in Ardor in August 2008

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours I hope.

Summary: The tale of Voronwë the mariner and his odyssey as he charts his course through the First Age from Nevrast, through the building of Gondolin and beyond. He finds his one great love and is a part of the events of that age.

Written for: Jaiden

Chapter summary: Doubts, how Gondolin was built and a party arrives to the hidden city unexpectedly.

Chapter One

Glorfindel was summoned from across Gondolin. A messenger from the Lord of the Fountain arrived at the training grounds to deliver a note right in the middle of sparring sessions for the training of young soldiers.

"Hold, please! Hold your swords!"

The warrior stepped away from his partner at the shout from the courier, took the offered missive and quickly scanned it. He revealed nothing of its contents in his expression but made his apologies, traversing the dirt arena to where his shirt and pack lay discarded earlier. No time to bathe, he would go immediately to the guard tower to assist Ecthelion.

It was no small feat to lead someone into the hidden city. Voronwë the mariner knew this, and when he saw the somewhat astonished look on the face of Lord Ecthelion, he wondered what had brought them to this pass. Tuor seemed calm when they were led from the mountain tunnel as prisoners but for him, this was like not being recognized by his own mother. These were the people he had lived with, built with and would have died for. He had spent so many years in Gondolin and now it had come to this. He doubted every impulse that had led him to bring the mortal through to the Hidden Realm.

Their feet echoed on the stone pathway and they proceeded unobserved by the less travelled way. This was by design and so that no one would see just yet. No gossip would filter into the city. It was all to be handled discreetly for now, until the trespassers had been properly questioned; their purpose determined. Tuor was flanked by two guards of Ecthelion's house while Voronwë was escorted by only one, who looked at him sidelong all during the long walk to the guard tower. This was making him nervous, very anxious indeed. He dared not speak a word and tried to trod softly.

/---/

Many years earlier, in Nevrast...

"Mother, why do we not go to Hithlum to join with the High King and the rest of the House of Fingolfin?"

"We are loyal to Lord Turgon and we follow his path. We have discussed this before."

Aerlindë was patient with Voronwë, ever explaining, ever mindful that he understand what was happening around him in elvendom and the greater world. She was sure he would play a part in events of significance though she did not know how. She did not have the power to read the future or tell his fate. It was something a mother simply knew about her child.

She, herself, though related to the Noldor royal lineage through her marriage to Aranwë, kept out of the political affairs. She was loyal, yes, but not of influence to others and kept to her own and her small family. This had not stopped events from finding her, and when she had met her husband, she had fallen in love and become part of the Noldor clan. They were blessed with the birth of their son in Nevrast but shortly after her very own love fell to the creatures of the Dark Lord who were ever present in this Middle Earth. This left her and Voronwë here alone. She felt much in kinship with Turgon, son of Fingolfin. He too knew what it was to lose someone dear to him. He had lost his own wife on the dread Helcaraxë and was raising his child alone. Voronwë could no longer be called a child and would cry outrage should she dare it. Aerlindë smiled with these thoughts. Her son was indeed past his majority and coming into his own.

This evening they were finishing dinner and Voronwë asked, as was his nightly habit when the season permitted.

"Do you mind if I go to the beach for a swim?"

"I will clean up. You go while the sun lasts." She replied as she stood to take the dishes.

Voronwë nodded and got up from the table, pushing back his chair to carry the serving dishes to the kitchen.

"Thank you, mama. I will come back soon. It is a perfect night for it."

Tall of limb and long of stride, the young elf ambled out of the dwelling and headed down the seaside path toward the beach front. They lived west of Vinyamar, along the coast lands, within easy reach of Turgon's seat of power but not too easy as his mother liked to say. He drew in a breath and took the night sea air full into his lungs, fresh, moist and clean. Once he reached the beach, he stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a pile, to walk straight into the surf without pause as he did every night. The coldness of the ocean embraced him and without gasping he dove straight in, submerging to come up into a strong stroke heading due west out to sea. He was swimming into the setting sun, though it hung just above the horizon line.

Most nights he began with counting in his head--one, two, three--and so on--until he lost the numbers and his thoughts began to wander a path that he did not control: who he saw at market that day, when next he would be summoned to the capital for instruction as a warrior, and so on. It was during these nightly sojourns that he worked out his problems and cares and found solutions that might not normally occur to him. The exertion seemed to free up his mind, or he fancied Ulmo played a role providing guidance. It was Valar intervention.

Tonight his arms and legs moved in perfect rhythm, a tempo that no one had ever taught him but he had always known. Voronwë was very much of the sea, always thought of it as his friend, admiring the vastness of Arda's oceans. His body adjusted to the temperature and he did not feel at all cold as he cut through the waves. He felt as though he could swim all the way West if he wanted to. What a fanciful thought. He would have laughed at the idea but did not want to swallow saltwater.

/---/

Vinyamar was situated eastward in the mountains that looked down to the sea and though beautiful in its own right, it was only ever to be a temporary home for Turgon and his people. A place to rest, gather strength. Fingolfin's son had been visited by a dream from Ulmo which told him to found a city in secret, to make his people safe. A few select elves were privy to this information and to the formulation of a plan to build the shining star of Gondolin nestled deep within the Encircling Mountains, upon the plain of Tumladen.

"Ecthelion, we are going to need people to do this. Able bodied elves to lift, carry and do back breaking labor up there. How is this even possible?"

Glorfindel raised his voice now, to stress his point. This was a constant source of private debate between Ecthelion and his friend, who always had a mind toward the practicalities.

"Turgon is too much of a visionary and is not thinking of how it will be to implement this plan..."

"We will find a way, my friend. There is stone in those mountains to build with and we will find a way."

Ecthelion cut into his potato, trying to reassure Glorfindel that indeed, a large and beautiful city could be built in secret high up in the mountains without anyone knowing about it. He had his own doubts but he kept those to himself.

"You know Turgon will need us to lead this effort, hmm?"

He pushed the greens around on his plate.

"Aye, of course. I do not doubt that."

Glorfindel sat back and lifted his wine glass, thinking and pondering. He liked Vinyamar. It was nicely situated with access to the sea and inland regions. Why not stay here? Why not make this their home?

"Ecthelion, why can we not remain in Nevrast?"

The dark haired warrior laid down his utensils and picked up his own wine glass. He would finish his meal in a moment. Glorfindel did not seem inclined to eat for now.

"Well, I do not believe that is Ulmo's plan and Turgon has a mind to safety for us all. He would like to find a place where we are hidden away from the world and the troubles of this age. It will be secret and none of the strife and wars will touch us there."

"And we will not be able to help. We will neither trade nor participate in ANY of this region's affairs...we will be isolated in our hidden kingdom."

The golden warrior frowned into his glass. Gregarious by nature, the idea of being shut away in a mountain pass did not please him that much.

"Glorfindel, " Ecthelion set his glass down. "You do not have to go. You may go join Fingolfin, or with Finrod or others if this disturbs you so."

"No, no...I am just speaking to you. You are my friend, Ecthelion. I will of course keep my path with Turgon's. I am loyal to him. But you alone will know my doubts and keep them in confidence."

Ecthelion nodded and picked up his silver.

"Of course, as always. Now eat your dinner. It will get cold."

/---/

Turgon, of course, had a plan. Once he found the vale of Tumladen, he worked ceaselessly on the designs for a city that would be like a jewel set on that field of green, a city of towers, with streets lined with gems, to rival the cities of Valinor. He would call it Gondolin. >

And so his captains assisted him as he knew they would. Turgon shared with them his plan for the architecture of Ondolinde and they set about pulling together the elves that would be necessary to build such a city. All throughout Nevrast they travelled, from house to house, with messages for able-bodied elves to report to Vinyamar.

Voronwë was one such elf. And as always, he went when summoned.

/---/

Glorfindel surveyed the gathering of male elves as Turgon spoke to them. This was necessary. They needed to know why they were being sent into the mountains to build, what the true purpose was. No one was being conscripted thus they were being asked to volunteer. As Turgon explained Ulmo's visitation and the need for the city, Glorfindel paced, and looked from face to face. This whole idea made him understandably nervous and so he walked back and forth, stopping to look at their faces now and again. He wanted to judge reactions, eliminate anyone who he thought would not work hard or who might have the wrong attitude. His glance stopped on someone in the front row, dark of hair and with eyes such a turbulent green they reminded one of the ocean waves.

"Who is that?"

"Hmm?" Ecthelion whispered back.

"Second from the left in the first row." Glorfindel said softly.

"That is Voronwë. A good lad by all accounts, born here."

Glorfindel nodded and casually observed the elf who was paying rapt attention to Turgon's every word. Steadfast. Too young to know that yet.

Voronwë felt a jumble of emotions as he stood there listening to Lord Turgon speak. He knew that his fate was somehow caught up in all this as he got a chill at the back of his neck during the whole speech, an eerie feeling. He also knew he was being watched and assessed. That made him uncomfortable. He shifted on his feet and tried to focus on what was being said, though he did chance a look at those who were beside the future King of Gondolin.

He knew them all by name but not personally though he could tell that Lord Glorfindel was observing him closely. Though to what purpose he could not tell. He dared not look at the golden haired captain of the Noldor and stood straight and looking to the front. He was nervous under all this scrutiny. Voronwë was an adult but this was all a bit much for him to take. He still felt young and he was in fact younger than those assembled in the hall. Most of these elves had been born in Valinor. He stood out as an elf born in Nevrast.

Turgon finished speaking and took questions from the audience. How long would it take to build such a city? How many elves would go? And so forth. There was much they did not know so the Noldor prince answered as best he could. He apologized for the lack of information but asked them for their continued loyalty. It was a lot to expect, he knew, but it was the best he could do.

The group dispersed, and the elves milled around to speak with each other and Turgon's soldiers to gain information. Plans would be made to begin the work in secret and send advance parties to the Encircling Mountains and so look for materials to build the city.

Voronwë stood by himself in thought, mulling over the fact that they would be migrating inland and that he would have to part from the sea. He supposed there was nothing for it but there was a frown on his face nonetheless.

"You looked troubled, young Voronwë. Is there a question I can answer that might ease your worry?"

Glorfindel smiled as he approached the younger elf, speaking loud enough to be heard above the background noise, the buzz of conversation filling the hall.

"No question my lord..."

"Glorfindel, I am Glorfindel."

Voronwë nodded and then did ask.

"One cannot hope that there is an inland sea in those mountains?"

"Nay, my friend, we will have no access to Arda's oceans from Tumladen, I am afraid. This is a drawback and an irony, don't you think, since Ulmo is the source of all of this?"

"Yes, my lord."

"You may call me Glorfindel, if you will. I do not stand on titles."

"Yes, Lord Glorfindel."

"Just Glorfindel."

"Glorfindel."

"Very good."

Glorfindel was charmed by this serious young elf and would make sure that he was part of HIS party for the excavation and building of the site. He had a sense that this was an earnest person and someone who would work hard and do his best.

Voronwë smiled at the older elf and met an answering grin.

"When do we start?"

/---/

The building of Gondolin...

As with all construction on such a scale, it was necessary to divide the labor and so be efficient in action and resources. In this way they did not squander the people or their efforts. They travelled to Gondolin, as they were now calling it, in organized parties, each group led by a captain of Prince Turgon, son of Fingolfin. It was hoped that by not going as a large host, they would escape notice.

Ecthelion's party was responsible for the acquisition of building materials, specifically lumber from the mountain forests and quarried rock that would be the used to build the city. The wood would be made into scaffolding used to erect the structures and roll the large building blocks. White stone and marble which would be the streets and towers that would make up Ondolinde. They searched out these naturally found items and mined for them in the Encircling Mountains.

Galdor and Enerdhil's factions prepared the building elements to the precise specifications of the plan set out by Turgon. They cut and crafted the stone and marble, along with any other natural material that might be needed. The mixed mortar, lay bricks and what they did not know how to make, they quickly figured out. These elves worked in an encampment on the edge of the vale with large tents and a great deal of equipment to carry out their work. Chisels, hammers, axes and the like. Once materials were ready, they were transported immediately over to the building site to be incorporated into the city. Penlodh's people were responsible for transporting the raw materials to the artisan's camp and finished elements to the city's site and did so on a daily basis. Salgant's elves supplied the entire operation with food and water preparing each meal for all workers. Their goal was to provide hearty repast and to maintain a pristine site for this purpose.

In this manner each of Turgon's captains supervised a key task or element in the construction of this great city, all working together, organized in a concerted effort. They did so in secret, they did so for years.

Glorfindel was in charge of the construction of the city, implementing the design that Turgon had drawn from his imagination, setting it down to parchment in Vinyamar. Before they had left Nevrast, he had questioned the Noldor ruler exhaustively, pulling from him every vision and idea that he had for his schematic of the city. He did not want to fail at this and so he spent many a night with Turgon deep in discussion so he would get this right. He felt no small amount of pressure. The consequences of doing this wrong were just too horrible to imagine. Glorfindel tried to dispel such thoughts from his mind.

The construction of Gondolin followed an annual pattern as building was not possible during the winter months. They worked from Spring's thaw through the summer until the end of Fall and then repaired back to Nevrast for the Winter months. Again, always travelling in smaller groups so as not to draw attention to themselves. Stealth was essential so that Gondolin remained a secret to the rest of elvendom and the spies of Morgoth.

Voronwë had to admit that he enjoyed the beauty of the mountains and did so to Glorfindel one night as they lay looking up at the stars. The night was cool and crisp all around them and Varda's stars appeared closer than anywhere else in Middle Earth.

"Look how bright the stars are, Glorfindel. How vast is the night sky and limitless."

"Aye, tis beautiful, Voronwë. You are right about that."

"It is far vaster than the oceans, eh?"

"Two entirely different things altogether, I would imagine."

"Aye."

Glorfindel turned to his side and looked at Voronwë's profile as he looked up at the stars. It was a strong face, full of character and sense.

"We worked hard today. Are you tired?"

"Not so much, no. I am strangely awake now. Usually I would be asleep by now."

And this was true. Their habit was to fall into an exhausted sleep under the stars most nights right after a large dinner cooked on an open fire but tonight they lay awake for some reason.

"Yes, you would. I find you snore very loud, you know and you are usually asleep well before me."

"Snore loudly?!"

Voronwë feigned outrage turning to face Glorfindel and his outlandish suggestion. He knew the older elf was teasing him but looked at him sternly, frowning to show his displeasure. Glorfindel's very blue eyes shone with mirth and the captain looked pleased to have gotten such a reaction.

"I will have you know I do not snore. I breathe elegantly in my sleep."

"You snore as loud as any pig I have heard, Voronwë. I will swear an oath on it."

"I will get you for that, Glorfindel. I suggest you take it back."

"Oh do you? And if I don't?" His voice was laced with amusement.

Without answering, Voronwë launched and tried to pin the elder elf under his lesser weight. Glorfindel laughed then, giving way as they wrestled. He let his friend vanquish him easily and pleaded,

"Mercy, I declare, mercy!"

"You did not even try, Glorfindel. You let me win." Voronwë laughed as they looked at each other.

"I think I am at your mercy, my friend." Glorfindel said cryptically.

"I will not press my advantage then," Voronwë said from his position atop the other elf. He was beginning to feel a strange emotion between them and if he had known more about such things, he would have known that it was budding attraction and affection but now it only caused confusion in his mind.

Glorfindel nodded, though his eyes reflected a darker hue than moments before.

"You are good not to. I do not think I could show such restraint. Shall we sleep now? Else tomorrow we will pay."

Voronwë pretended to snore loudly as had been Glorfindel's contention.

"Get off me, pig."

The captain bucked his hips sending a thrill of awareness through them which they both ignored. The younger elf retreated to his own bedroll set up just next to his friend's. Voronwë did not know what he was feeling but he did enjoy the time he spent with Glorfindel very much. He lay down atop his blankets and sighed.

"Good night, Voronwë. I will wake you in the morning."

No easy task, he thought, as Voronwë did like to lie in. Glorfindel smiled up at the stars at the effort it would take to get him up.

"Good night, Glorfindel."

To be continued.

Aerlindë=sea chant or song of the sea

Voronwë=steadfast

Bronwë=Sindarin form of Voronwë

Nan-tathren=valley of willows

Laurëa Melda=Golden Beloved

Ondolindë: The Rock of the Music of the Water

Chapter summary: Tuor and Voronwë speak before Turgon.

Chapter Two

"We thought you dead, Voronwë, but now we see you come back with a stranger to our midst. How do we know you were not captive of Morgoth and leading his spies here?"

Glorfindel paced the small room in the guard tower, his feet making no sound on the stone floor. He wore soft boots and had a light step. He wanted answers from Voronwë, glad as he was to see his friend, much as he wanted to embrace him and shout for joy at his return.

"I was not captured Glorfindel, but I did not make it to the West."

The mariner recounted his tale, how he had tarried along the journey to Falas finally arriving there to captain the last ship for Valinor. He spoke quickly, wanting Glorfindel to know that he had done as King Turgon had asked him but had not been able to make it to the Undying Lands. He told of their attempt to make it to the Blessed Realm and how madness, hopelessness and despair had plagued the voyage, They had turned back sailing directly into a fierce storm which had blown their vessel against the coast of Nevrast, thus shipwrecking them. So ended their hopes for the journey. All hands been lost but he had been thrown into the ocean. He firmly believed it Ulmo's design that he survived to make it to shore, where he encountered Tuor, son of Huor in Vinyamar, clad in Turgon's garb. The man had spoken prophetic words, meant for the king and even so, Voronwë had been skeptical. Glorfindel stood with arms folded the whole time his friend spoke, betraying nothing in his expression. Finally there was silence and the younger elf sat in his chair nervously.

"Well that was a mouthful, there is no mistake." Glorfindel finally said, amusement evident. He seemed on the brink of laughter.

"You find this funny?!"

"I am just glad to see you Voronwë. I have missed you very much."

"I thought of you, Glorfindel. I wanted to see you again."

"You look older somehow. Changed. I cannot put my finger on it."

And indeed Voronwë did look different. There was more resolve in his countenance, a maturity to his expression and a resolution in his eyes. No young elf was he. Glorfindel imagined he looked broader and taller too.

"I am not different. It is just me."

"Your hair is longer. You will admit that at least." The inquisitor winked at his friend and Voronwë finally laughed. It would be alright. He knew that though they had important tidings for the king.

"Tuor must speak to the King. He has words of import to tell him."

"We will see to it then and you will come too, to vouch for him. Let me tell Ecthelion."

Glorfindel strode quickly out and across the hall to where Tuor sat in stubborn silence and Ecthelion stood openly exasperated. He looked at the stranger with frank curiosity and then imparted all that he had learned to the Lord of the Fountain. At the last, he insisted that they take the two newly arrived elves to the citadel for an audience with Turgon.

"We cannot until we have learned his purpose, Glorfindel. We do not know what he will say."

"There are greater powers at work here, Ecthelion. Did you hear nothing that I said?!" He spoke in a hushed whisper but he was sure that Tuor could overhear him.

"Alright. On your head it will be then."

/---/

Voronwë and Tuor were led into the king's Great Hall in the citadel. Turgon sat enthroned surrounded by his daughter Idril and his closest advisers, including Maeglin, the betrayer. The king had been forewarned of the recent arrivals and sat wondering what news they would bring.

Voronwë came into the hall, leading Tuor, who was still dressed in the king's very own armor. It was this same suit of arms that Turgon had himself left in the abandoned halls of Vinyamar. Ulmo, Valar of the seas had instructed him to do so and said the one who sought him wearing it would have a message of great import regarding his fate. The king showed no visible reaction as he saw the mortal enter dressed in this manner. He did, however, remember the Valar's words many years before.

"Bring him forward, Voronwë the mariner and first speak of your plight since you left Gondolin. I will hear what has happened to you in your travels. Then the newcomer shall speak to me as he will and tell me how he came to be wearing my armor."

Voronwë stood in front of Turgon, king of Gondolin and all of the Noldor elves in Middle Earth, and spoke of what had happened to him since he had left Gondolin years before on the quest assigned to him. He tried to be to the point and not digress, but he found himself doing so. A quick soft cough from Glorfindel, standing behind him a pace or two kept him on track. It was best not to anger the monarch, as he was not known for his kindness when crossed.

"You say you tarried in Nan-tathren? Had I not give you precise command to sail for Valinor as soon as you could?" Turgon asked, his voice deceptively calm.

"Father, let him finish." Idril interrupted. "The time for questions is later, once we have heard all speakers today..."

The dark haired royal sat back on his throne, apparently listening to what his daughter said. He did not appear pleased, however, and his slate grey eyes took on a dangerous gleam.

"Continue!"

Voronwë went on and told his account, the rest of his tale was tragic as they could not find their way to Valinor by any sea route by and upon attempting a return, the ship was tossed, and wrecked in a tumultuous storm. Those present listened raptly while the mariner's voice filled the hall, increasing in volume as he recounted the events.

"It was Ulmo who saved me, helping me get to shore and make it to Nevrast. I am sure of it."

"How do you know?" Maeglin asked skeptically.

"I know in my heart, that is all I can tell you. No one else survived with me, if that indicates anything."

"Go on, Voronwë, continue your tale."

The king leaned forward on his elbows to knees now, intently watching the expression of the speaker for signs of falsehood or evasion. He saw none and did not doubt the veracity of what he told.

The mariner chose to omit certain details, that would not be of interest to anyone but his friends. How he had dragged himself from the sea, laying on the beach to look up at Varda's stars with the sounds of the waves to enchant him, as though Ulmo was lulling him to sleep. And he had slept there, for hours uncounted, so exhausted was he. Eventually he woke to stare up into the face of Tuor, honest and candid, seemingly haloed in stars. Later he would tell this in great detail to Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, who was convinced that the Vala was watching over the elf. For now, though, he kept to what was essential to his narrative, just what the king needed to know.

"And there, in Vinayamar, I met Tuor, son of Huor, arrayed thusly."

He turned to show his new acquaintance and his apparel, the armor of the king himself.

"Did you not think him strange, Voronwë? To be cloaked in King Turgon's own suit of arms?" Again, Maeglin questioned him, loudly, with a biting tone.

"I will owe that I did. I did find it odd, quite frankly."

There was a rippled reaction in those assembled, whispering and a close examination of the appearance of the proud mortal standing unperturbed in front of them. Tuor, stood with arms folded, tall and straight, no blush on his cheek and eyes clear. He observed the king and the king alone, aware of the others, but focused on his assigned message and intent. Ulmo bade him come here to the Hidden City. This was his destiny.

Voronwë finished, retreating to stand beside Glorfindel, breathing more easily now that he was not the center of attention or the focal point of the royal gaze. He was a sailor, unaccustomed to speaking for such gatherings.

"You did well, Voronwë, without guile. You spoke plain and true."

"Thank you." He whispered as Tuor strode forward when summoned.

Much is writ of what happened next in the King's Hall in Gondolin, of how Tuor, of the Atani, pronounced Ulmo's doom upon the city should Turgon not abandon its fairness with his people for Sirion. The mortal spoke in a voice that was not his own. It was deeper, more resonant, seeming to come from every corner of the room at once.

"This is a trick!" Maeglin cried. "He speaks false and will lead us to ruin. He is a conjurer, a charlatan."

Idril gripped her chair tightly but kept silent, knowing that she would have time to speak with her father at a quiet moment. She felt dread descend upon her soul, an icy recognition that Tuor would not lie to them this way. He had the appearance of a righteous man indeed. She did not doubt that he was sent by the Vala to warn them of future events. Her clever mind started to plan, as it always did. She could no more stop her thought's workings than prevent the tide of what would come to pass. Something must be done to make them safe, something.

Turgon sat unmoved on his throne, showing no visible change to his expression.

/---/

"Voronwë, are you hungry? You must be. Shall we get something to eat?"

Glorfindel and Voronwë walked through the city, having left the hall amid the chaos, by silent mutual agreement. The Lord of the House of the Golden Flower thought his friend looked tired and now that this Tuor had spoken, the Gondolindrim could make their way to more comfortable surroundings.

"I, myself, am hungry. I could go for some roast beef and some potatoes, and carrots and fresh baked bread with gravy..." Glorfindel's stomach began to rumble as he tried to think of the last time he ate.

"I take comfort in the fact that you have NOT changed, Glorfindel."

"Not one wit. I can always eat." They exchanged knowing grins.

Voronwë followed Glorfindel through the deserted streets, and the almost maze-like avenues. He looked up to the white towers as they passed, so very different than the terrain he had seen in his travels.

"It looks the same here, untouched by the ravages outside the mountains."

"It IS the same here. We came back and sealed ourselves in tighter than ever. You are the first to come for many years. You have been gone a long time, my friend."

"I know. I did not think I would ever come back here again."

They neared the House of the Golden Flower, entering its gate, walking the cobbled path to an ornate entrance. On cue, the front door opened and they were greeted by Glorfindel's always efficient butler. The elf lord made arrangements for a very large dinner to be served as soon as it could be prepared, also ordering a room made ready for Voronwë to spend the night. He simply assumed his friend would want to stay here.

"Will you stay here, Voronwë? At least tonight? I think it will be easiest for now, we can go see Aerlindë tomorrow morning when you are rested." He did not mention that he was unsure of the status of Voronwë's own home. It was thought that he was lost and thus it might be occupied.

"Aye, aye. That is wise, if you don't mind."

"My house is your house, of course. You will have everything you need here, all for the asking."

"A bath and food in that order."

Glorfindel smiled and made a mock showing of examining Voronwë from head to toe, with a sniff.

"You could use a bath, that much is true."

"You would too if you had traveled as long as I had." Indeed he was covered in grime from the long road he had journeyed.

The golden lord moved forward and laid his hand on Voronwë's shoulder. "I am kidding. I know some of what you have been through and would like to hear it all. I am sure it is an adventure and then some."

"You shall then. But first I will bathe so I do not offend." He smiled and yet enjoyed the proximity. Their closeness brought back memories of long ago, memories that had sustained him on his journey.

The bath was drawn, a chamber appointed and Voronwë luxuriated in the scented, sudsy water. He could not remember a time when he had bathed thus. Usually he hurriedly washed in ice cold rivers, or lakes with a bar of rough soap he carried for those occasions. This was nice. He lathered every inch of his body, cleaned his hair and then lay in the large tub for a long soak until he could make no excuse to stay in and the water was beginning to get cold.

He stood reaching for a plush towel. The day had been so strange and now it seemed so normal. He had gone from the trail to the king's hall to Glorfindel's home where he felt perfectly at home and comfortable. He blotted the water from his skin and then padded into the bedroom, wondering about clothing, only to find a new set laid out on the bed, evidently Glorfindel's own. Chosen for comfort, there was a simple white shirt and black leggings, with a belt provided in case they were too big. The other elf was larger than he after all. Voronwë's own clothing was missing and must have been taken for laundering by the staff. His pack lay empty by the door and his belongings had been put away neatly for his convenience.

Before dressing, Voronwë dried his hair as much as he could, combed it out and braided it neatly in one plait down his back. It was his usual method and he did this as much out of habit as anything else. Not being a vain elf, it did not occur to him to do otherwise. Then he donned the clothing. He observed that while he was as tall as Glorfindel, he was not nearly as broad, and there was quite a lot of room in the shirt. It billowed as he walked but was very comfortable, soft fabric. For the pants, he did make use of the belt for his slighter waist. The length in the leg was just right.

Thinking he might lie down for just a moment, he draped a dry towel over a pillow, and stretched out fully on the bed, letting out a contented sigh. How long since he had reclined on an actual bed, and not the hard ground or the base of a tree? This too was nice.

He would just close his eyes for a *little* while.

/---/

Glorfindel paced the salon, alternately stoking the fire and checking on arrangements for dinner. Finally, he was told that the meal was well in hand; no, his assistance was not needed. That was the polite way his staff had of telling him to "go away". He knew this and did not mind. The food would be excellent, as always, complete with wine, dessert and all the fixings. Voronwë would know the hospitality of the House of the Golden Flower.

Time dragged on, and not one to stay idle, the warrior checked his office for any pending work. He tidied up late supply orders and the other administrative loose ends but checked the time eventually. He began to wonder where his friend was. Had he drowned? That elf was like a fish, thus he found that unlikely. Setting his work aside, he strode up the grand staircase, heading for the guest chamber, knocking politely on the door.

No answer.

And so he knocked again, more loudly this time. No answer that time either.

He eased the door open slowly to peer around at the dim room inside. All became clear as he spied Voronwë asleep atop the coverlet, feet bare, dressed in the garments he had left earlier. He entered silently, closing the door with no sound. The sleeping elf did not move but he did snore softly, as he always had. Glorfindel smiled at that and at the many fond memories he had of their joking under star-filled skies deep in the mountains. It was a comfort to know some things would never change about his friend. Moving to the bed, the elf lord sat down and watched the other elf while he slumbered. No trouble seemed to worry him in his dreams and he appeared peaceful in his reverie.

No wonder he was tired, the elder elf mused; to travel all that way and with the worry of bringing this mortal to the king? His lips seemed so soft. Why were they not weathered from all that time at sea? Who knew how long they tried to get to Valinor and the sea was vast and fearsome, winds, sun and waves. Glorfindel frowned as he looked down upon the smooth face, tranquil expression and closed eyes. Later he would wonder why he did this but *as* he did it there was no hesitation. He leaned close and kissed Voronwë's slightly open mouth, to see what those full lips felt like, and they were just as soft as they looked.

The prone elf stirred and came near to wakefulness, eyes half opened.

"Hmm?"

Glorfindel was thankful for the darkness which enveloped them and murmured. "Dinner is near to ready, Voronwë. Time to get up, lazy elf."

"This bed is just wonderful. I am used to sleeping on the ground."

"Ahh. Well you must rouse yourself for dinner, or the staff will roast YOU. They have prepared a wonderful meal for us." He joked but he did not want to draw attention to what he had just done. Chances were Voronwë remained unaware of it.

The younger elf sat up, and reached a hand behind his head to feel his braid, to see if it had come undone. It was still damp yet intact and not too messy. He had felt the kiss, it was what brought him out of sleep, and not unpleasantly, but it was all too brief for his liking. He debated with himself whether to mention it, return the gesture, or simply let it go as an accidental occurrence.

"You kissed me."

"I did."

"Why did you do that?"

"To see what your lips felt like." Glorfindel always told the truth.

"And?"

"Inconclusive, it was too short to tell really." The warrior smiled in the dark room.

"Ahh. So you are saying a longer kiss would serve your purpose?" Voronwë had never been kissed and so would have liked to be awake for it. A long smooch was just what he wanted.

"Sure."

"Well then, have a go."

"That is not very romantic, Voronwë."

"After what I have been through, Glorfindel, hang romance and kiss me."

Glorfindel would have laughed but did not want to lose this moment, so he cupped Voronwë's face with both large, sword roughened hands. Letting a thumb caress his friend's bottom lip, he leaned in to bring their mouths together. Just before contact he whispered, "Your lips look so soft, not at all touched by the elements."

Voronwë's answer was smothered by Glorfindel's slow growing kiss, gentle at first and building in passion, there in the dimness of that chamber. Dinner would wait, as they gave rein to the first blossom of their longing and love. For long moments they let their mouths touch, embracing and breath mingling. Both felt the thrill of first discovery.

Finally, Glorfindel drew back, a sensuous look in his eye, his lips full and swollen, his hair was tied in a loose knot at the base of his neck, coming undone. He let his hand caress Voronwë's face, the smoothness of his skin. He felt the warmth there.

"We should go eat."

Voronwë nodded, though he appeared befuddled. As they both rose from the bed, he said,"That was my first kiss."

"I had a feeling that was, and technically it was your second. You were asleep for your first."

"You took liberties."

"Yes, and then you asked me to again."

And so they discussed as they left the room for dinner. The staff at the House of the Golden Flower was very discreet so *if* they heard anything of a personal nature, it went no further and *if* anyone was holding hands, no one would know anything about it.

/---/

Idril was delegated the responsibility of seeing to Tuor. This made her unaccountably nervous. Well she supposed she could account for it, as he was dressed in such a way as to make one wonder and he had just pronounced doom on the city that she loved so dearly. As she led him through the royal tower, she babbled, her tendency when not exactly comfortable.

"I am taking you to the guest wing. We will have to find you some clothes. You will not want to stay in that." She waved her hands. "Armor cannot be comfortable really. I have heard that it gets dreadfully uncomfortable when worn for a long period of time and so very heavy after a while. How long have you been wearing that? It is quite amazing that my father's suit fit you after all, though you are just his size, eh?"

I am a ninny, Idril thought to herself, a first class ninny.

Tuor listened politely as he walked down the well lit corridors. He found now that he had done his duty, he was quite tired but he was also simply enjoying Idril Celebrindal and her effusive manner. She talked quite a lot which amused him. She was very beautiful and her feet made no sound on the stone floor. He tried to see what shoes she was wearing but her dress was too long.

"I have lost count of how long I have been wearing this, some months now. And yes it is uncomfortable."

They turned the corner, proceeding through an archway.

"My father said he would like to have you come to dinner tomorrow night. He thought tonight you might be too tired. I think he means to get to know you so he can determine the truth in what you said. Personally, I believe you. Hearing you now and remembering how you spoke in the hall, well, there is no question..."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Idril, my name is Idril."

"Idril."

"Thank you."

As they entered the royal residence, she was greeted by the King's very efficient staff. Idril gave swift directions for quarters to be readied for Tuor, son of Huor, and a small dinner to be prepared and laid out in one of the smaller salons. When all was organized to her satisfaction, the king's daughter turned to the mortal, explaining to him:

"I do not think you should eat by yourself this evening for that might lead to melancholy so I will dine with you, if you do not mind. This is a new place for you and I am quite good company when I am not prattling on about things."

She wanted to assure him that she was not a ninny.

"I imagine you are a fine dinner companion. That would be very nice, Idril. I will enjoy your company very much, once I have changed and had a bath."

Blushing ever so slightly, Idril motioned to the chief of staff for the King.

"Please take Lord Tuor to his quarters and be sure he has adequate clothing. I will see you in about an hour in the small salon. Until then..."

She curtsied as her mother had taught her and hurried off to prepare for their meeting later. For some inexplicable reason it was very important to her that she make a good showing. Tuor watched her leave with a small smile on his face and then followed the other elf to his rooms.

/---/

Maeglin, son of Eol, the dark elf, retired to the House of the Mole to hatch plans. He had no doubt that Tuor spoke true but his words must be contradicted in the mind of the King. There must be enough doubt to...

He had work to do.

To be continued.

Aerlindë=sea chant or song of the sea

Voronwë=steadfast

Bronwë=Sindarin form of Voronwë

Nan-tathren=valley of willows

Laurëa Melda=Golden Beloved

Ondolindë: The Rock of the Music of the Water

Chapter summary: Lovers, Gondolin's end and new beginnings

Chapter Three

Each bite that passed Voronwë lips was more delicious than the last and the wine went straight to his head since he had little experience with it. He was not a very sophisticated elf, not one used to Gondolin society.

"Mmm..."

"I am glad you are enjoying it."

Glorfindel lounged back in his seat as they sat at an intimately set arrangement for two, one end of the very long table which was used for formal occasions at the House of the Golden Flower. There were candles and a nice floral arrangement in golden hues placed to the side so they could see each other. The elf lord had been quite hungry and so ate his meal in short order. This was his usual way and afforded him the opportunity to watch his guest. That was the real treat. Once Voronwë finished, Glorfindel suggested moving to the adjacent salon with fireplace for their dessert of seasonal berries and sweet wine.

"I have not eaten this well in a long time, Glorfindel. I am used to dried salted meats and stale bread on board a ship. Nothing like this..." Voronwë murmured as they settled themselves on plush cushions in front of the hearth. He sank his toes into the rich, soft carpeting, having kicked off his shoes, in total relaxation.

"It is what you deserve after so long an odyssey. I am glad to provide you with some comforts."

"This is nice."

Glorfindel nodded and looked into the flames. His mind was on their kiss earlier, and he wondered at renewing his attentions. Voronwë stretched out his long legs, letting his feet warm by the fire.

"It is."

They fell to silence, sipping dessert wine made from berries chilled in the morning frost, then fermented by the king's own winery. This libation was a specialty of Turgon's house bestowed upon close friends only.

"Glorfindel, have you..."

The golden haired elf knew what his friend was trying to ask and no, in all the long years since Voronwë's departure to sail, he had not found romance with another, though they made no promise and there had been no intention expressed on either of their parts. They had not even kissed before but he had been waiting nonetheless.

"No, I have not found love with another, ever. If that is what you mean to ask."

"Nor have I though it is common enough in sailors, as you know."

Glorfindel laughed, "I have heard that, yes. You were never tempted to, Voronwë, to find pleasure with a comrade at sea?"

"No, I was holding out for love, I do believe. I did not just seek pleasure for a moment's time." The mariner frowned into his crystal goblet.

"I know this, Bronwë. Have no fear. I know you well." Glorfindel set his glass aside and rested on his side facing his friend. "It seems we two waited for the same thing."

The flames gave the younger elf's hair a dark, shiny appearance, so much so that the warrior longed to touch it. He indulged himself, reaching his left hand over to feel the silken tresses still bound in the long braid.

"I have much to learn of Gondolin again. I have been long away."

"I will help you get used to it here again. You must stay here now upon order from the King. No going away again much as you will miss the sea. I cannot say I am sorry for that, Voronwë."

Their eyes met in the amber light cast from the fireplace, blue as the sky meeting turbulent green of the sea.

"As long as this place lasts, if what Tuor says is true..."

"Then we will leave here together." Glorfindel reached for his hand, to reassure Voronwë as much as himself. Now that they had found each other again, he did not want to think of them being parted again.

/---/

Idril was very good at getting people to talk about themselves. She had what she termed "diplomatic skills". She applied these naturally as she dined with Tuor, son of Huor, on his first night in Gondolin and would have been the first to admit, she flirted shamelessly. Aunt Aredhel had always said the key to gaining a male's attention was to ask them about themselves. This advice she put to good use and she plied him with question upon question as they supped in the private salon which graced the royal residence.

She was impeccably dressed in a gold gown which set off her hair to good effect, picking up the different shades in it and making them shimmer very much like the frock itself. She had been sparing with the jewelry, wearing just small earrings and a thin necklace. She did not want the mortal to think she was vain or greedy for such things. On her feet she wore very soft sandals that had no ties so that she could slip them off under the table at dinner. She really did detest shoes in any form, but she wore them tonight as it was a special occasion.

"And that is a particular custom of the Atani? Your house specifically or all the branches?"

They were discussing hunting rituals and rites of passage and Tuor was enlightening Idril on customs for young men as they became adults. She found it very fascinating and listened him speak in deep tones, her food forgotten on the plate.

"Yes," Tuor added between ravenous mouthfuls. "It is quite exciting for the boy, to hunt and kill their first deer by themselves. They are sent out alone with knife and spear and have to bring it back fresh killed. Then it is skinned..."

"How thrilling!"

"You going to eat? Your food will get cold." The man gestured to her plate and she looked down.

"I will, I will now." Idril picked up her utensils, beginning to eat the first course of greens from the terraced farms in the mountains. They were stored in ice, preserved for the long winter months.

Tuor of the Atani was quite hungry but hated to dine alone. He got the sense that the king's daughter liked to eat too but was having trouble paying attention to more than one thing at once. Truth be told, he was a bit dazzled by her glittering presence and had to wrench his attention to his food. The stomach won out tonight as it had been a long time since he had eaten so well.

Each course was more elegant than the last, and the two diners ate their fill, relaxing more with each glass of wine consumed. A healthy blush emerged on Idril's face, and her eyes lit up with each amusing anecdote Tuor told. He was quite witty and funny, even though he had passed a sentence of doom on her city. Though that was Ulmo, really, not him. He was only speaking on behalf of the Vala.

The palace staff served them discreetly, functioning both as wait staff and as chaperones protective of Idril Celebrindal. This mortal was new to the city and though he had taken audience with the king, the commotion he had caused made him suspect. No one knew him well, not even Voronwë the mariner. Idril, of course, trusted him the moment she laid eyes on him. She had an intuition about such things.

/---/

It did not please Maeglin of the Mole to discover that Idril, his cousin was dining en suite with Tuor, son of Huor. That information put him into a fine rage. He had a bad feeling as regarded that situation. Who exactly was this Atani mortal piece of scum?

/---/

Voronwë had fallen asleep in front of the fire, while Glorfindel stayed awake next to him staring pensively at the light dancing on the wall. They stayed thusly for a while until the early morning hours and then the elder elf deemed it time for them to retire to bed. He would not part from his friend and carried him up the central stair, to his own room where they could sleep the rest of the night.

The dark haired elf awoke as he was set on the bed and murmured.

"Where are we...?"

"My room, where you belong."

"There will be talk, Glorfindel."

"If you think that has not started already, you do not know Maeglin. He is the center of all gossip and mischief in this city. I don't care, Voronwë. You are staying with me."

Once he lit the lantern, providing a very soft, small amount of illumination to the large bedchamber, Glorfindel kicked off his boots and padded to the closet to find something to wear to bed. He was sensible of his friend's feelings and did not want to shock him by sleeping naked as was his usual way. He found light draw string pants and got a pair for Voronwë too.

Shucking off his tunic, he said, "You should change for bed, Voronwë. Get comfortable. I have these for you." He tossed the clothing to the bed, then slipped out of his own heavier leggings.

Voronwë watched Glorfindel, while taking up the nightwear. His friend was beautiful and as he bent down to slide the dark pants on, the muscles in his back flexed, revealing just how toned he was. Evidently, he was staring, for Glorfindel was walking to the bed somewhat amused and pulling his goldspun hair out of its knot.

"Bronwë, get a move on there. You still asleep? Or shall I undress you. That would give me great pleasure."

"No, no...I have it." Voronwë started to unbutton his shirt awkwardly, blushing to be caught ogling.

"Let me." Glorfindel sat next to him and gently brushed the younger elf's hands aside, continuing where he left off with the metal ornate buttons of the shirt. "Must be that you are tired." He murmured. "Long day, big meal...all that wine."

"Must be."

"Hmm. Must be."

As he slid the fabric down over well muscled arms, Glorfindel let his hands caress the smooth skin, tanned from the sun, yet smooth, perfect, and warm. Voronwë shivered slightly, feeling the desire wash over him in waves. Being in close proximity to this elf all night had elevated him to a constant level of arousal and now with these touches, well it was almost more than he could withstand. The golden elf followed his hands with his mouth to good effect and soon Voronwë arched beneath him.

"Lie down, Bronwë." Glorfindel's eyes were half closed and he continued his sensual exploration of Voronwë's lithe, long body, moving his hands nearer and nearer to the center of his desire.

The mariner heard the soft plea in that whisper, acquiescing immediately. He felt hot and moved his hips as Glorfindel pulled down the waist band of his leggings to reveal his hips, thighs and then calves. The pants landed on the floor with no sound.

"Have you ever pleasured yourself, Voronwë? With your own hand?" The warrior lay on his side, letting an adventurous hand, slide palm-down over the hard flat plane of his companion's stomach.

"I have, of course, I have."

"Yes, long sea voyage. One would. And what did you think of it?" Glorfindel's fingers wrapped around the base of Voronwë's arousal, stroking experimentally. He had done this to himself often, but never to another. The gasping reaction was telling.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? No fantasy? No one in mind? No dream that you would like fulfilled?"

"None that I would care to admit."

"Come now, my friend. It is I, Glorfindel. You can tell me anything." He leaned close, whispering in his ear, letting his lips graze Voronwë's reddened cheekbone, as he increased the pace of his hand to flesh.

"Mmm..."

"That is not an answer though I do like the sound of that."

"It was you I dreamed of Glorfindel. Every time." Bronwë whispered almost desperately. "You I would picture as I found my pleasure..."

The younger elf was rewarded with a kiss, forcefully placed, opening his mouth so that their tongues could mate and tangle with longing. At no time did Glorfindel stop his sensual attack to bring ecstasy to his friend and maintained a rhythmic pace with his hand below. When they parted, he began a slow descent stopping at intervals to softly caress an attractive spot with his lips, whispering.

"You taste, hmm, of the open air and the sea."

Glorfindel spent some moments suckling a taut nipple before moving lower, ghosting his mouth over heated, sensitive skin. He flicked his tongue over Voronwë's belly button and then lower still, to the soft, black thatch of hair at the base of his hard length, burying his face there.

"Can't."

"You can and you will." The elven soldier settled himself between the prone elf's outstretched legs, still partially clothed himself, letting his partner feel the full pressure of his weight. Tonight was not for making love, it was for the beginning of finding pleasure with each other. They would explore what it meant to be lovers slowly. They had long years ahead of them and time to discover what each liked.

"Glorfindel, we...ahhh."

Voronwë's ability to speak ended as his lover began to lick the head of his swollen arousal. This was pleasure he had not even dreamt of those hopeless nights on the attempted voyage to Valinor when he had been so lonely that his image of the golden elf had been all that had kept him sane.

It was a musky salted flavor combined with a hotness that he found intoxicating. Glorfindel applied the flat of his tongue to the veined surface and then proceeded to swallow the heated column in the wetness of his mouth. He followed his innate intuition, not any experience he'd had. He often had imagined this for himself and so did what he might want done to his own body. He lay on his stomach with legs splayed out, working on Bronwë, his mouth rising up and down on the hard cock. He felt the connection between them growing, his own skin heating up more and more with each moan from the mariner.

Voronwë reached down to caress and stroke Glorfindel's soft hair, his body arching on the coverlet, eyes closed and impassioned words tumbling out. Most of what he said was nonsense but none of that mattered and he knew he was understood. It was as though his heart was a ship which had found safe harbor and thus the igniting passion between them became an expression of that peace.

While letting his mouth explore his partner's arousal, Glorfindel contained his own mounting desires. He wanted to bury himself in that willing body but the time was not now. Eventually they would consummate their love but not now. They had waited the years for this reunion and so he would savor each and every moan. Voronwë gripped the coverlet tightly and was held in place by two strong hands to his hips.

"Glorfindel, I, I..."

"Mmm..."

The hum created with that sound added a soft friction to the younger elf's pleasure tipping the balance in Glorfindel's favor. Seconds before Voronwë erupted into his mouth, he opened his throat and so could accommodate his lover as he climaxed. For his part, Bronwë called out lustily as he spent his seed into the awaiting mouth, collapsing afterwards on the bed. The lantern flickered nearby, maintaining the light in the room. Voronwë was tired and spent, lying exhausted while Glorfindel panted, his cheek resting on a warm thigh.

"That was..."

"Good, no?" Glorfindel smiled with his eyes closed, content for the moment.

Voronwë's purring sigh was his only answer. The elder elf moved and took the placid mariner in his arms.

"Sleep now. Sleep and dream of nothing."

"I always dream of you."

They held each other close, and drifted into gentle slumber.

/---/

Idril lay awake staring at the ceiling going over her time with Tuor many times in her mind.

Tuor of the Atani slept like the dead albeit with a smile on his face.

/---/

Turgon, king of Gondolin met with Ecthelion of the Fountain long into the night to gain as much information as he could on what had transpired earlier. A faithful ally and confidante, the lord of that house did his best to counter the actions of Maeglin the deceiver in the hall earlier that day.

Sometimes lovers, they quarreled that night and thus Ecthelion retired to his own home, thinking that the Noldor king needed to deliberate without his influence. He was summoned at the midnight hour by special messenger and spent the rest of that night in the king's arms.

/---/

Tuor son of Huor remained in Gondolin and in doing so became a loyal subject to the king of that illustrious city. He loved and was beloved of Idril Celebrindal and so married her, to later have one son, Eárendil. As an adviser to Turgon of the Noldor, Tuor tried to get the ruler to see the truth in Ulmo's warning. But one only sees what one wants to see and in Gondolin they would remain until the end descended upon them.

One night, not long after their son was conceived, Idril asked her husband to call together a few trusted allies. Those she knew would not spread word of what she asked or told them. She had a little scheme, an idea, for she knew when disaster struck it would be swift and terrible. It was in her mind to get people out of the city to safety in the event of an invasion. Her family was foremost in her mind, but if they could build an access road many more could be saved.

The elves gathered were some of the leaders of the city: Glorfindel, Ecthelion, Galdor and they had included Bronwë at Tuor's behest. A small elite group who could help them plan.

"I have foreboding dreams at night, of flame and destruction. I fear that our city will not stand the test of time and will be found by Morgoth eventually. We are vulnerable here and there is no plan for evacuation, should the worst happen. My father is resolved to do nothing but I cannot rest if we do not prepare."

Idril stood with her palms protectively over her rounded belly and Tuor was behind her with arms folded. He knew what she would say, and supported her fully in this as in all things. He wanted this message to come from his wife.

"I want to build an escape route out of the city and I ask you, those who were in charge of building Gondolin to help me do it. I want this done in secret and the entrance to be well hidden from view. We need a way out and into the mountains above so that should the worst happen, we can get to safety and out of harm's way."

The elves gathered sat in silence, thinking it over until Glorfindel spoke.

"You will not be telling King Turgon of this project?"

"Not yet, Lord Glorfindel. He will know of it when it is necessary but not right now." Idril smiled though it made her nervous to keep things from her father.

"How will we keep such a project secret?" Ecthelion wondered out loud.

"It all depends on where you have the entrance." Galdor suggested. "If it is on someone's property, then the excavation can be well hidden indeed. No one need be the wiser. It should not be in a public place."

"I assume we are talking about a tunnel under the city." Voronwë tried to follow their thoughts.

Tuor answered his friend, "Yes, Bronwë. That is the idea. We dig down and out into the mountains so that we can escape if the city should fall." And fall it shall...his errant mind finished that thought but he pushed it aside so they could work on the practicalities.

They worked long that night, hashing out the plan and it began to take shape. All agreed to hold this secret for Idril Celebrindal and implement the construction of a tunnel under the city should all fail and they need flee for their very lives.

/---/

"Voronwë, if the city is attacked, I don't want you to wait for me. I want you to go with Idril and leave through the tunnel. I will have to stay and fight, I want you to leave as you can. I will find you later. Is that understood?"

"I don't think I like that."

Voronwë answered and he could barely make out Glorfindel's serious expression as they faced each other in the dark, lying each on their own pillow, talking as they liked to do. Tonight's conversation took a somber turn as Idril's tunnel was finished and the entrance secured, hidden to any prying eyes.

"You might not like it, but this is what I want you to do. I want you to survive."

"It is no survival without you, Glorfindel."

"We will always find each other again, no matter what happens."

Glorfindel reached to caress his lover's handsome, lean face, tracing the elegant line of his bone structure as Voronwë closed his eyes. Years had passed as they lived together at the House of the Golden Flower and while he had gotten used to life inland, Glorfindel had his heart.

"No matter what happens."

/---/

"Bronwë!"

Voronwë could not move.

They had left behind the din, escaping through Idril's secret way and into the mountain passes overlooking Gondolin. Destruction and devastation had hit the city as Morgoth's vast forces attacked, creeping stealthily through the mountain passes during the Midsummer Festival. Ecthelion had been left behind, the king too, many good elves, now Glorfindel fell over the cliff, dragged by the balrog's whip.

"BRONWë!!!" Tuor's shout got louder this time as he came closer, running back down the mountain path. Still the mariner could not move.

"He is gone, we must go or else die here."

No matter what happens. He could hear those words in his mind and let his feet move. No tears now, time for that later.

"I am coming." He wanted to die too and follow where Glorfindel had gone. Tuor took his hand and pulled him up the mountain.

/---/

They decided to sail at sunset, given the flow of the tide and the light would last long enough for them to leave the harbor. They were not certain of their fate but knew that they needed to leave this place. Idril knew in her very soul that they would make it to the Undying Lands and that the Valar would permit her husband entrance. He had served their purposes and now he was aging. Idril just knew he must make it to Valinor and then his fate would be decided.

Voronwë checked every rigging, sail and supply onboard Eárramë for the last time. He had assisted Tuor in the design and construction of the vessel, knowing that it needed to be able to withstand any weather they might sail through and go a great distance. He hoped they would be blessed by the Valar on this voyage and find themselves along the straight road to the Blessed Realm. He knew from experience what could happen should this not be the case.

"All is ready!" He called down to the elves standing on the dock, then retreated to give the family their privacy.

Eárendil stood speaking softly to his parents, then embraced each in turn before they climbed the ladder. Idril did well not to cry until she was on the deck of the ship and imagined that her son could not see her so discomposed. It was not so but her husband allowed her this flight of fancy as they held hands.

Standing on the bow, looking to his future, Bronwë ordered the sail hoisted. They caught a good wind out of the mouth of Sirion and followed the coast line, veering due west into open sea. He well remembered his last attempt to make this journey and the folly of that venture but perhaps now Eru was on their side. Good weather, the tides and the will of the powers, all conspired so that they reached Tol Eressea some weeks later. When Tuor looked upon that fair isle some weeks later and then onto the emerald coast of Valinor he was a young man once again, with no hint of grey to his sandy tresses and no wrinkles to his aged skin. Yes, the Valar had blessed them.

After docking the ship at harbor, Voronwë worked with his crew to secure all the ropes tightly to the quai. He was a good sailor and this is what one did at the end of the voyage. He crouched, working on the last knot when a shadow crossed his line of vision.

"You are taking your sweet time with that, sailor. I have been watching you for the last hour tying this ship down." The exasperation was evident in the speaker's tone.

"A mariner does, what a mariner does." Bronwë stood to full height, folding his arms stubbornly. He looked into the sharply annoyed eyes of Glorfindel of Gondolin.

"Without a care for who might be waiting for you?!"

They began to walk up the path, hand in hand, arguing vigorously as they went.

"I did not know you were there, Glorfindel. How was I to know?"

"You did not even look, Voronwë. I did not see you so much as glance..."

Their voices carried to the Manwë's winds as the sea birds circled and called above.

/---/

It was a quiet night in this thousandth year of the Third Age and all was peaceful for the nightwatch on the harbour at the Grey Havens in the Gulf of Lune.

"Look at that."

"What?" The second watch stirred from his post.

"There is a ship coming in."

Both elves looked with the keen sight of their kind and could make out the silver sails and the trim, elegant design. It was not a bulky mortal ship nor was it one of their vessels but of a unique design not seen in these parts but evidently elven.

"Sound the alarm?"

"Nay but we must alert Lord Cirdan."

/---/

Voronwë docked his ship, Laurëa Melda , knowing full well that word had travelled through the port of their arrival. When the Valar had decided that Glorfindel would go back to Middle Earth to protect the line of Peredhil descendant from Tuor and Idril, and Eárendil their son, he had insisted on being the shepherd for his love and whomsoever would be going back with him. On this journey they were accompanied by the five wizards including, Olórin, who told them of great events unfolding in this part of the world.

He bade his passengers stay onboard while he jumped to the dock, awaiting a greeting party, as he was sure there would be. Soon enough he heard and saw elves on the pier approaching him at a good pace. As they drew closer, the leader called out,

"Who goes there?"

"Arrivals from the Blessed Realm brought by Voronwë the mariner. I could not send word before we tied up but I come bearing important travelers sent to aid your cause."

Cirdan stopped and looked into the sea green, somewhat startling eyes of the famed sailor and rubbed his beard, taking in what he said.

"This is very unusual."

"You could say that, Uncle." Bronwë laughed.

/---/

I am Voronwë, of Gondolin, captain of the Laurëa Melda, so named for the love that I leave behind on the shores of Arda. It is with heavy heart that I scribe this entry but I know that I will see my love again, at the end of his sojourn, when he returns to me having done his duty. Until that time, I will sail the seas in exploration and keep my heart company and trust that he will be well.

This is my story.

Finis

Aerlindë=sea chant or song of the sea

Voronwë=steadfast

Bronwë=Sindarin form of Voronwë

Nan-tathren=valley of willows

Laurëa Melda=Golden Beloved

Ondolindë: The Rock of the Music of the Water

Thank you for reading.