The skies flashed orange as flames leapt across the battlements. Heaving clouds full of water seemed to hang low in a pregnant pause. The screams of the dying and fighting echoed through the elven hewn stones, imprinting its horrors on the once gleaming city of Turgon’s people. Morgoth had found them and employed all his arsenal in an effort to remove this forever blight on his rule of Middle Earth. Orcs, balrogs and dragons were quickly turning this safe haven into death and destruction. Maeglin, the betrayer, had already perished, thrown from the walls by Tuor while trying to slay Earendil. Steam and fire rose into the sky as the clouds let go of the captive water and rain began to pummel what was left of the ageless city.
A pitiful band of survivors made their way down a secret stair and into the tunnel Idril, the daughter of Turgon and wife of Tuor had secretly ordered constructed. Idril had foreseen the destruction of the city. The refugees were seeking safety from what had turned into a massacre. Asmalinde had taken up the rear guard behind the survivors as Glorfindel and Tuor led from the front. A few other warriors from other clans, the ones Asmalinde were able to gather, were mixed in between. There were too few. The remnants of what had been a great city made their way to the exit of the tunnel far away from the base of the ramparts.There was some weeping but the little band stoically moved forward. Mortar and bricks exploded from dragon’s flames still crumbled from high above and the risk of death was ever close.
As the refugees stealthily crossed the vale of Tumladen they began the treacherous climb up Cirith Thoronath, the high pass of the eagles. One of the little ones slipped. A young elven child fell and began to slide down the incline. Asmalinde stopped her descent and scooped her up. Dirt and grime covered the girl's face and ash was in her hair. Tears left tracks down her cheeks as she struggled with the pain of the fall and the wounds on her soul. Asmalinde smiled and asked her name, ‘Narmelda’ the elleth replied.
The young warrior reached into her tunic and pulled out a small charm on a chain. It was the perfect likeness of a gull on the wing, crafted from living marble and the thin chain was made of mithril. She put it around Narmelda’s neck and fastened the clasp. The girl looked at it in wonder and smiled through her tears. ‘This has brought me good luck since I was a girl. If you could carry this for me it might do the same for you.’
She brushed Narmelda’s hair out of her face with her fingers and gently moved her towards the other children who had escaped the destruction of the city. Asmalinde picked up her shield where she had dropped it to rescue the sliding elleth and seated it properly in her hand.
The wounded and children struggled to keep pace with the group, thus slowing their escape. The going became more difficult as they moved upward into the pass. Glorfindel called for a stop and quickly spoke with Tuor. They gathered the pitiful force together and the golden haired elf said, ‘I do not like the smell of this.’ He gestured further up into the eagle’s pass. Tuor gave instructions to the others as Glorfindel nodded. He sent the others away but Glorfindel asked for Asmalinde to stay a moment. ‘Something evil awaits us’ he said. ‘Something we cannot all stand against. Asmalinde,’
‘Yes lord?’ replied the young elleth.
‘As I move into the pass ahead of everyone I want you to stay close to the others. No matter what occurs you are to stay with them and get them out. Do you understand?’ he asked.
‘But my lord, is it not my place but to be with you?’
Despite the dirt on his face and his grim look the Elf’s countenance steeled with the fierceness of the Noldor and his nobility could not be denied. ‘Your place Asmalinde, is with the others. Nothing matters more than to get them to a place of safety. Protect Earendil at all cost,’ he said, smiling fondly at her.
The golden elf looked again up the pass and he tightened the straps of his shield to his arm and loosened his sword in its scabbard. Suddenly, a mighty roar shook the very foundations of the mountain they stood upon and flame shot down the gorge. The women and wounded of the group wailed and the remaining guards grimly prepared to sell their lives as dearly as possible. Glorfindel paid none of them any mind. His instructions to Asmalinde were given. He looked up the pass and his eyes shone. The mighty elf straightened his helm. He glowed like one of the Valar from out of the west. He drew his sword with a flash as lightning lit up the sky around them. The heavens turned black and Glofindel made his way up the slope and out of the sight of the others.
Tuor gestured the rest of them forward and just as they started moving, orcs boiled out of the hillside around them. It was an ambush! Cruel taunts guttered up from the beast’s throats as they threw themselves out of the rocks and into the survivors as they hurriedly formed a shield line for defense. Suddenly the crevasse exploded, flaming rocks hurtled outward like comets in the sky. Orcs and elves alike ceased moving and stared… A giant horned being, alight with the flames of Angband hewed at Glorfindel. The beast seemed to melt and reform into its shape like molten lava into a smith's molding, a balrog! They were flaming spirits of the Valar who betrayed them and were seduced to Morgoth’s side. Fell creatures who had slain Feanor, Fingon and in the destruction of Gondolin, Ecthelion. Flames and lightning shattered the sky as both parried each other’s sword strokes. The elf was too close for the Balrog to use it’s whip. Glorfindel used his quickness over the brute strength of his horrific foe. The elf maneuvered the thing to the edge of the cliff top and with eyes glowing and his wrath shining he forced the balrog over the side and to its doom. However, as the balrog fell into space it dragged Glorfindel with it.
Silence rang out like a concert for the unhearing. Nothing could be heard except for the rocks rolling down the slope of the mountain. A wail arose from the elves and the orcs cheered in their guttural cries. They began to beat down the survivors of Gondolin. Heaps of dead orcs were piling up around the perimeter. All the remaining elven warriors were wounded. The refugees' defense circle became smaller and smaller as more were struck down to return to the halls of Mandos. Asmalinde’s shield was bent to an almost unrecognizable shape. She limped from a wound in her side. An orcish arrow had pierced the folds of her armor. The black feathered tail of it stuck out from just above her hip. Her sword trailed blue fire as it rose again and again to achieve the purpose the smiths of Gondolin had forged it for; to slay orcs. No hope remained. Suddenly everything went dark. The sky turned black. Silence.
Asmalinde Penyalie, the one with no memory, woke with a start. She clawed her way out of the darkness with a desperate need to see light. To know all was well. The elleth was in her room in Imladris. The early morning dawn looked in her windows as if to reassure her all was well. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and tossed back the blanket. Naked she walked to the window and let the full light of the sun shine on her face. ‘Enough is enough!’ she said to herself, with eyes closed.
Since her awakening, in Lord Elrond’s halls of rest over a year ago, her dreams had been coming more frequently and were much more vivid. She could see herself in them almost like a minstrel’s tale. The names she heard she did not know. And now this, this most horrifying of enemies and Glorfindel’s doom! How was he still alive and here in Imladris! Did she know him? Why the looks of familiarity, like they knew her but kept their silence on it? When she took the chest from Cirdan at the Havens to deliver to Lady Calidis, she received the same glance; The one of recognition but none revealed themselves to her.
‘Enough is enough!’ she repeated to herself.
Today she would seek out Isilme the daughter of Silwe. The one Nautiel the unpeaking signed for her to see. Today she would seek the answers to the puzzle. Who was she?
