Chapter Two

{Halls of Mandos, 3000 SA}

The years drifted by in a haze for the souls in Mandos’ Halls as they rested and considered all they had done or been through in their living years. Many more faer joined all that had fallen before in the Halls, but some were not as welcomed as others. Of Fëanor’s sons, Maedhros and Maglor were all that remained living after the Kin Slaying at the Havens of Sirion. The rest were condemned by their brethren in the Halls and all but Caranthir were repenting of their sins. But peace still reigned within the Halls, a soothing balm to the horrors many of them had seen.

But for Ecthelion, peace was not always available nor sought for him. He wandered the Halls, usually avoiding any interaction with his kin, though he did mingle with Egalmoth and Rog for a few years. He avoided Glorfindel and Turgon however, watching them emotionlessly from the shadows. He noted their subdued nature, the pain and sorrow sometimes almost palpable to him. His heart though had grown cold to them and so he never confronted them, always leaving just before they came into a room.

Many rumors began to whisper through the Halls then of the scandal that had so broken the three beloved Lords of Gondolin. Some of their loyals stepped up to stop the gossip, but even they were unsure. None of the three confirmed or denied the speculations that arose, giving fuel to the rumors. What had indeed happened to cause such grief?

None of this mattered to Ecthelion however as he continued to just exist. He would often stay in the Halls of Weaving where Vairë wove her tapestries of time. He never spoke with her, merely watched as history was personified within the strands of her art. It was there that his fate began to unfold at last as he watched Eärendil, whom he had loved and helped to raise, make a plea to the Valar for aid for his kin against Morgoth.

A gentle shifting in the air around him alerted the observing faer to the emergence of others in the room. Tilting his head a bit, he looked over and saw Námo appear, accompanied by two magnificent beings that could only be Manwë and Varda. He turned fully to them and knelt in obeisance, his fist clenched over his heart in salute. “My Lords and Lady...you honor me with your presence,” he greeted them quietly.

"Your fate has changed, Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain. Are you prepared for the path you shall now walk?" Manwë asked quietly, his pale golden hair a gentle curtain behind him as he paced forward one step. His soft silver and pastel yellow robes rustled ever so slightly with his movements as he folded his hands before his abdomen. His eyes of purest blue focused on the dark haired Elf before them, at once seeing all and revealing nothing more than kindness.

Looking up a bit, Ecthelion fixed his gaze upon a spot just in front of the Valar. "My fate has ever been not of my choice. Who can ever be ready for what life may bring them?" he answered softly, his voice hitching slightly in sorrow as his hand clenched on the floor.

“Every path has many forks, but you are wise to acknowledge your inability to know when your path may change,” Varda replied as she smiled gently. She came forward and placed a slender alabaster hand on the humbled Elf’s shoulder. Her robes of indigo and silver sparkled as she knelt down in front of him, brushing her other hand along his cheek to urge him to look up at her. Her smile was of the light of the stars she had created, gentle and soft as her loving blue eyes probed his dull gaze. “Ecthelion, your life shone with life, love, and light and it shall again. But you must go through many things and you will be important in the upcoming Age.”

“Morgoth shall be vanquished, but the evil shall not leave the lands of Arda,” Manwë added solemnly as he watched them. He bowed his head in acknowledgement as Ecthelion finally focused on him. “You are needed once more on Middle Earth.”

“Nay...let me stay in Aman, I beg of you...” Ecthelion suddenly pleaded as he sat back, trembling ever so slightly as he turned his gaze to each of them in silent appeal. “Let me stay here even! Do not send me back to where my life ended!” he begged, suddenly shedding tears that had not been seen since he had arrived centuries ago in the Houses of the Dead.

Moved, Varda stood and held his hands, bringing his attention to her once more. “Your path is there and you can not avoid it. You have chosen with your vow and you must...you must see it through,” she whispered tenderly, her eyes sparkling with the glint of tears as she gazed at him sorrowfully.

“My...vow?” Ecthelion murmured in confusion as he stared at her. His eyes widened before dimming as he realized just what she meant. “My vow...aye...I remember now...” He closed his eyes slowly and bowed his head, his shoulders and body slumping in defeat as he recognized that, with his own words, he had condemned himself to his fate. “My fate...is not mine. I understand now,” he whispered quietly in resignation as he bent his head. He was silent for a minute before looking up and focusing on them, once more in control of his emotions. “I am ready to follow your will.”

Bowing their heads in acceptance, the three Vala stepped back. Turning as one, they went through a doorway, followed by Ecthelion, and went down the hall towards a room that was glowing faintly blue. Entering it, Ecthelion saw a shimmering oval in the center of the room, elevated above a circle that was engraved with various symbols. The oval itself was liquid seeming, blue, white, and silver light melding together in mimicry of the ocean. Silently, Ecthelion looked over at the three Vala, waiting for an explanation. Focusing on him, Námo folded his hands in front of his stomach as he explained. “You are being reborn, but within the body you left upon your death. However, Gondolin’s remains have sunk beneath the sea so, with the guidance of Ulmo and his Vassal, Ossë, you shall be brought to the surface, restored in body, to begin your path.”

Nodding in understanding, Ecthelion focused on the portal, his eyes dull with grim acceptance. Whatever happened after he walked through that portal would be his fate. Nothing more could be done for it. Sighing softly, he took a step forward resolutely, resigned to his fate once more.

“Ecthelion!”

The shout startled the soon-to-be reborn faer and he looked over his shoulder, startled to see a frantic Glorfindel standing in the doorway, golden hair wild about his body as he stared at Ecthelion with wide and hope-filled blue eyes. “Ecthelion, wait...please, I must speak with you,” he said softly as he came into the room.

Námo, Manwë, and Varda stepped back to watch the confrontation. It was expected and would seal their fate until the time came that they would reverse their fortune. Ecthelion turned a bit more to face Glorfindel, but his face was of stone, so cold and forbidding that it stopped Glorfindel from entering any farther. “I have nothing to say to you, oath breaker,” he whispered softly, cruelly as he stood straight and tall.

“Ecthelion please...melethen please let me explain,” (my love) Glorfindel beseeched his former lover as he reached a pale hand out to his beloved.

“You have no right to speak of anything, for it was nothing.” The emotionless statement stunned Glorfindel as he stared at the Elf he loved. He felt his heart freeze slowly as he took in the unwelcome stance and icy gaze that was leveled on him. He trembled ever so slightly as Ecthelion condemned their love. “The flames of Morgoth will forever be what I think of what you destroyed with your infidelity,” Ecthelion declared before turning away.

“Nay...” Glorfindel whispered softly, his voice cracking on a sob as he watched Ecthelion walk away. He reached out for his beloved, but was stopped by an invisible wall. He placed his hands on the surface stopping him, shaking as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Ecthelion...melin chen, glîren vorn...” (I love you, my dark song) he whispered softly as he watched Ecthelion step farther from him. He closed his eyes as he leaned against the barrier, trembling. “Do not forget that,” he added barely.

Stopping, Ecthelion stared at the portal that he was a mere foot away and shivered at the whispered declaration and special name that Glorfindel had always murmured to him in a show of affection and love. His eyes closed as he struggled for control, his soul and heart responding to the call of longing. But the image that had taunted him throughout his stay in Mandos’ Halls flashed before his eyes. His eyes hardened and he straightened yet again before stepping through the portal.

Námo, Manwë, and Varda watched as Ecthelion disappeared to reemerge in the living realm before they focused on Glorfindel. “Glorfindel of Gondolin...your path is now before you. Will you step onto it and follow it to follow your heart’s desire?” Varda asked eloquently as she came towards the now listless faer.

“My heart yearns to be with Ecthelion. What other path is there for me but condemnation and suffering?” Glorfindel asked bleakly as he stared at the now fading portal. Another tear rolled down his face as he sighed.

“The path of life and redemption as well as obligations. Your part in Arda’s history is not over, Glorfindel. Are you willing to attend it now in service to your beloved Turgon’s house through Eärendil and his children?” Manwë answered as he spread his hands in invitation. “Would you be willing now to go to Arda to protect the family of Eärendil’s son, Elrond, until the task is complete in the coming dark times?”

“Ever would I protect Turgon’s family, but would it be wise to send me hence when I am oath breaker and false?” Glorfindel whispered bitterly as his head hung, his golden hair brushing limply around his body as if sharing his grief.

“Oath breaker you are not, as we know. And false you are never. But long ago you pledged yourself to Tuor’s family in the raising of Eärendil. Now, his children will need guidance, even when they are parted from each other for eternity through their Choice. The Choice of the Peredhil is one that shall bring great sorrow in their family and they shall need a wise one to guide and protect them. Will you go and prove yourself to Ecthelion?” Varda asked quietly, beseechingly for she longed for all wrongs to be righted soonest, even if it were not to be.

“Ecthelion? He...he will be there?” Glorfindel murmured in surprise before straightening, life coming to his face as he realized what had happened. “He was reborn! He is in Arda and now...” He stopped, trembling as he put a shaking hand to his lips. “I will seek his forgiveness and explain...” he declared, eyes shining with tears of hope now. He stopped once more and frowned then. “But what of Turgon? Is he to be reborn as well and join me?” he inquired expectantly, his eyes filled with hope.

“Nay, Glorfindel. The son of Fingolfin will not be going with you to Arda. Aye, he shall be reborn soon, but shall remain in Aman. It is up to you to find the light within the shadows,” Námo decreed quietly as he gazed solemnly at the Elf Lord.

“Light...within the shadows? What is going to happen?” Glorfindel questioned immediately in worry. “Ecthelion...something will happen to Ecthelion!”

“That is for you to see if you accept to being reborn,” Varda answered firmly, ending the need for more questions. “Do you accept?”

“I do,” Glorfindel answered immediately as he straightened, gazing at them with firm resolve. “I will go to Arda and be with the House of Tuor and will do what I can to earn my place at Ecthelion’s side once more,” he added with unyielding tenacity.

“Very well then. Come with us, Glorfindel of Gondolin. We shall give you what information you shall need before going to serve in Arda,” Manwë replied with a smile before they turned and left the room. Glorfindel followed them immediately, steadfast in his decision as he made a promise to find his love and reunite them for all time.

No matter the cost.

TBC