Eliriael had spent countless days in the rain and sunshine of the valley. Little did she know of the time that passed her. She visited all her favorite places of old, friends she had not seen in many years, and found new fascinations in the changing leaves and waters.
Having spent the day tending a grove of sunlight-kissed flowers, she danced into the Hall of Fire as the day began to wane. Slipping her soft fabric shoes onto her small feet, she pushed open the doors and was met with the warmth of the fire caressing her skin. She glided forward, already twirling with the sound of music, and capered further into the hall.
As she passed the long tables, she noticed a commanding figure, the fire blazing behind his back, thrusting his shadow across the floor before her. His radiant blue garb stood out sharply against the orange flames. Recognizing him, Eliriael’s smile lit her face brightly as she had excitedly anticipated such a chance meeting since the first time she had seen Lord Anglachelm from a distance.
Eliriael bowed deeply before the tur as he returned one. Before she began to speak, Lord Anglachelm addressed her. “There, there…I heard your coming to the valley, lady. I hope you are having an enjoyable visit.”
Her heart fluttered in warmth. This formidable and great tur, who had proved so great in strength and valour among the ages spoke tenderly to her as a father to his child. The ever eager affections of her heart blossomed forth in response to his kind greeting. “Lord Anglachelm, indeed, I have come in search for you.”
He responded to her, “It is lucky you have found me. I was about to retire.” Eliriael smiled at her fortunate chance.
“It seems it is difficult to find you.” A smile of amusement played upon her lips.
Anglachlem responded with the corners of his own lips upturned. “They say so indeed.”Continuing, he said, “Now, what for have you come in search of me?”
“I have come in search of the House of Vanimar, in hopes of joining,” she said simply. Her eagerness discarded any necessities of preluding her introduction with formalities and many words.
“This is unexpected…” Anglachelm paused thoughtfully before he continued. “So you do wish to serve the House of Swans.”
Eliriael nodded. “I tarried in the woods in the East and by the Sea in the West for long. But I have heard how the Eldar of Gondolin have come together under your house. And I wish to be of service to you and your house in any way I may.”
It had taken many ages for Eliriael to seek out her own kin. Though, it was not for any sorrow or pain that she lived apart from them. Her nature had always been prone to wander and she was much too free-spirited to give way to finding a permanent home in which to abide. Yet now, her heart yearned for the company of those who knew also of her fair white city. There were more than memories to be found again...
The Tur thought for some moments. “Are you perhaps belonging to the Noldor as one of us? Your tongue is fair as one of the Sindar, yet you speak wisely as the Noldor. It is hard to determine.”
Eliriael laughed, amusement in her eyes. She responded to Lord Anglachelm’s inquiry. “My mother and father returned to Beleriand with the host of Lord Fingolfin and his sons when the Sun first rose. And with Lord Turgon they remained to see the rise and fall of the fair kingdom of Gondolin.”
At these last words, Eliriael’s voice grew softened and her gaze grew distant. Even after many ages, she knew the sorrows of her true home were difficult to speak of for many of the Gondolindrim. Such was the hurts of the Firstborn, and she saw the grief plainly upon Lord Anglachlem’s visage.
“And were you one of the survivors?”
Her own inner feelings of sadness were reflected outwardly upon the Tur’s face, and so she could do naught but smile warmly at him. “By the blessings of the Valar, I was rescued.”
Anglachelm nodded several times, thoughtfully – silently – as if his nods would make the pain of the past more understandable, as if each nod would somehow erase the sorrow of his memories…
After the silence, he continued, “I share your pain and memories, for it is my own as well. Something that I have to remember every day I wake up and going to rest knowing that no sleep will ever erase it.”
Again, such a great unshakeable elven lord stood bare before her, his spirit quivering in the remaining pangs of loss, as if Gondolin had fallen but yesterday. To such a sight before her, Eliriael could not help but smile tenderly, detached from her own sadness. Before the grieving elf, she had no thought of her own feelings.
“I see the sorrow of times past in your eyes, but there is life before us yet. And we cannot turn back and undo all that has befallen us.”
Lord Anglachelm agreed. “Nay…nay we cannot undo any of it. There is no way out of it either.” Here, he paused and a strange jealousy came upon his voice. “If only mortal men knew how lucky they were, dying easily one day to forget what has happened.”
Unknowingly, the wet dew of mourning gathered in her eyes at the utter defeat in his expression. Perhaps he saw life as a continuous struggle against the endless passage of time, trying to allude the grasp of haunting memories.
Eliriael spoke softly, striving to bring comfort. Her spirit pleaded that he might regain some hope and rest from his anguish. “Still, you carry the hope of all the Eldar who have lived protecting what we hold dear. We have the blessing of carrying forward all that is left. Do not be grieved always.”
At this moment, a lean elf walked up to Lord Anglachelm, breaking the tension of the moment and dispelling the memories of ages past with a sudden intrusion of the present reality. Parnard, he was called by Lord Anglachelm.
Eliriael stepped aside, smiling. It was indeed rare to find the Tur not beset with important affairs of the House. Perhaps it did well in keeping him occupied in the present.
Soon the lords Tindir and Aithanar came into the hall as well, speaking with their lord of pressing business. The House of Vanimar was busy against the evil of the East, and Eliriael was glad to have come upon such a noble gathering of elves.
After some time, Lord Anglachelm turned towards her. “Lady Eliriael, about the thing you have asked…I am sorry again for the interruption.”
Eliriael shook her head slightly with a good-natured smile upon her lips. “There is no need. You are busy, as it is well known.”
“You are a survivor of my own city. Your request is kind to my ears. Please, hold my hand.” The tall elven lord extended his hand and Eliriael felt peacefully comforted and safe, knowing that she would place herself in his hands and under his lordship. She stepped forward and gave her own hands to Lord Anglachelm.
At the connection of their hands – his, red-tinged and strengthened with many battles, and hers, white and delicate as the silkened petals of lilies – the noise of the hall fell away, displacing them to a time and place that was remembered and told of only by a few. Lord Anglachelm began reciting a verse that was said long ago, by Fingolfin to his elder brother, in joy, and in a land far away, “Half brother in blood, full brother in heart will I be. May no new grief divide us.”
The Tur addressed Eliriael, “Elves in exile, may you feel at home here. I know it is hard, yet I know the pain of losing a home.”
Again, he nodded several times.
Eliriael smiled comfortingly, gratitude and warmth in her expression. “I am at your service.” She paused a moment and then added affectionately, “As kindred are.”
“There, a happy day.” He nodded. “This said, I need to go find Veryacano, I assume, to talk of important matters. If you would excuse my absence.”
Everyone acknowledged the Tur respectfully as he left.
Eliriael thought his retreating figure looked saddened and weighed down by an intangible burden. Though lords and warriors wore their armor on their body and a differing kind upon their faces, Eliriael found their backs vulnerable and quite unprotected in her eyes. Still, she would readily trust her fate in his hands.
