A heavy, cold, icy veil of dread covered the fair city of Ondolinde, the sky colored steel grey barely let any sunlight in, clouds black as storm loomed ominously near, yet no sound of thunder could be heard. Even the wind stopped blowing and the Echoriath looked like jagged teeth of steel. The only gust of wind the people of Ondolinde felt all day had been Thorondor, the King of the Eagles bearing the body of High King Nolofinwe to them. He deposited their late King on a mountaintop overlooking the city, telling the tale of his bravery and recklessness to Turukano. As word of mouth goes, soon all of the inhabitants learned of the High King's duel with Morgoth and many wept and wailed, but not for long.
Sinilatamo saw the figure of their ruler climb the mountaintop, his dark silhouette almost blending with the surroundings, and he thought that their King looked more like an ephemeral ghost than a person of flesh and blood.
He looked around. The same could be said for most of the people out on the streets, who like him, stared at Turukano slowly build a cairn over the remains of his father. The weeping elves fell silent, mourning the loss cloaked in a veil of dread. If they were like this, what must it be for their King, whose only brother lived so far away, unable to reach out due to his self imposed rule of isolation, unable to mourn together? Sinilatamo really wanted to climb the mountain and help him, but he knew he'd be rejected. How does one even try to comfort someone in this situation? What words could suffice? No, this was a task only Turukano could do.
It felt surreal, almost detached in a way... and how High King Nolofinwe died? The story Thorondor spun bordered disbelief, challenging the Dark Lord in his domain, armed with a sword, a shield and the righteous fury of a leader, even managing to wound him before he took the fatal blow. Sinilatamo was sure that in the future, great songs would be sung about the late High King but for now, all was silent, the elves, the animals, even the elements joined in the mourning.
He also wondered... what was going on outside of their realm? How were their kindred in Beleriand faring, was the war so desperate that it drove Nolofinwe to a frenzy? The Eagles brought them news from time to time but it only served to make him long to see his kin even more. They knew Findekano at least still resisted and the crown would go to him. Oh, the king of Ondolinde would be denied this little solace too, to have his brother, the new High King close.
He stared at the mountain until their King placed the last stone on the top of the cairn. As he left, so did the people of Ondolinde, one by one walking away still in respectful silence.
~ ~ ~
It is said that when the end of Gondolin came, no orc ever dared defile I harnas Fingolfin, the Cairn of Fingolfin, not during, nor after the fall. Sinilatamo, now called Luinvirdanon, never dared to broach the subject of the High King's demise with the other survivors of Gondolin who now lived in Lindon and Eriador. Perhaps he never would; some memories were better to be left alone and kept within one's mind, where the passage of time, at least for the elves, would not taint them.
the Cairn of Fingolfin is called Sarnas Fingolfin in an old name list from 1930, in the old noldorin language. I think I harnas is a more up to date term, but if I am mistaken do let me know
