A/N: A Silmarillion story written to try and destroy big nasty block on A
Noble Light. This is an AU, something I don't normally mess with because I
like the story just the way it is, thankyou very much... :) , however, I
suppose it's one of those "what if..." fics. In this case "What if Tuor
hadn't rescued Idril in the Fall of Gondolin?". Maeglin, Idril and, gulp,
Morgoth, feature.
PROLOGUE
I remember one time as a child I walked in the forest with my father, in the shadows of day in Nan Emloth. Suddenly, I saw something sparkling in the leaves, drawing me to it. I leapt upon it, and eagerly grasped a handful of dry leaves. My father stopped walking, and turned to me.
"Maeglin son? What are you doing? Drop those at once."
I shook my head, drawing them closer to my chest. We locked eyes, and I held my father's gaze and strove against his will. But his power was greater than mine and I feared his fury. Unwillingly, I let my hands open.
There was nothing there but crushed leaves.
Lómion
Darkness. All around, filling every corner of the room. I ordered the Orcs to cover the windows, to bar out the daylight. I do not want the light that shone once on glorious Gondolin invading my rooms. But what surrounds me now is more than simple darkness. It is oppressive, the absence of light, the twisted shadow of the Dark One. I fear Him, and trust not His promises. Half the bargain is fulfilled, and Gondolin is mine. I sit on my broken throne and wait for Him to speak.
I feel His presence around me, mocking and praising, twisting the shadows, cloaking me in His darkness. He speaks, and I sense the words rather than hear them.
"Betrayer." He titles me. "Here is the prize you would have above the lives of your people."
"Liar." I reply. "You have not fulfilled your side of the deal."
There is an amused silence.
"The Lord of the Earth does not leave his bargains unfulfilled, even to a betrayer like yourself. Take your precious flower, and look upon your mighty kingdom!" His voice crescendos to a mighty roar, raising echoes throughout the ruined palace. And somewhere outside the throne room, in the corridor, I hear another voice cry out, and my heart stops.
Idril?
The door is flung open, and two Orcs drag a struggling white figure. She cries out again, and one of the Orcs brings down the handle of its scimitar on her golden head. She reels, her cry silenced. I jump to my feet in anger.
"She was not to be hurt!" I cry to the darkness, His terrible laughter surrounding me. The Orcs approach the throne, and fling her to my feet, and depart, their heavy tread echoing through the hall.
For a moment nothing moves, and there is an unbroken quiet.
Slowly, tremulously, I reach out a hand to touch her. My breaths are coming fast, and my heart is pounding. I lift a lock of golden hair, and run it between my fingers. Is she real? Is this really happening?
"Idril?"
She lifts her head slightly, too weak to fight me, her eyes filled with hate and loathing. I let out a long breath, trembling as I kneel down and my hand runs down the length of her golden hair and onto her soft, white arm. It is almost too much to take. The possession of Idril Celebrindal, lovely fair Idril, the Silverfoot of Gondolin. Mine. Mine to possess, to own. I feel a giddy rush of fear at the thought. The intensity of her gaze, the same Noldorin fire that once shone in my mother, burns me now. I cannot look at her, and I am forced to turn my face away. My Idril, how are you so radiant? Even in the darkness of the ruined throne-room, you are too bright for my eyes.
"Why?"
Why? One simple world, falls from her lips. Barely a question. I know the answer, for I have prepared it in my head.
"Because I can give you a better life. Because I cannot bear to see you throw your life away with the mortal." Her gaze is piercing, burning.
"Because I love you." I say, but it comes out as a whisper. I have never felt this much concentrated hate before, whether in the hard glances of the Golodhrim behind my back as they named me Moriquendi, or the fury in my father's eyes as he cast the javelin at me, aiming to strike me down, to take my life. No, Idril hates me more than he ever did. The words dry up in my mouth, the long speeches I had prepared in my mind, the joy we would have together, the birth of our children. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
"What are you, cousin?"
Something snaps inside me, and I turn on her and cry suddenly, wildly, "No worse than what you are!" She flinches. "Kinslayer! Thief of my heart! For your city's laws, both my mother and father wait in Mandos for release! And now," I grab her and pull her roughly to her feet, "Your precious city has fallen because you refused my love."
A single tear rolls down Idril's cheek, and she starts to shiver as if very cold. Numbly I wipe the tear away with my forge-hardened hand.
Idril, I'm sorry.
I unfasten my cloak, held with my mother's brooch, and wrap it around Idril. Cloaked in black, bruised and dirty, she still is more radiant than the sun over Gondolin on a spring morning.
"Cousin Maeglin, it could have been different. It should have been different. But I cannot change my heart."
A spark of hope lights inside me, and bursts into a flame. "You. love me?"
With a simple shake of her head, she crushes me. Oh Idril! You are just as much a kinslayer as your father! While his sword took the lives of my kin, your words, your movement, is so much worse.
"Maeglin. I am wed."
It crashes down on me then. The Dark Lord has broken our bargain, or it was false from the start. For I can never truly possess Idril Celebrindal, for she belongs to another, and if I take her by force, I will lose her forever. The liar! With a cry I fling her aside and scream at him.
"Liar! Breaker of promises! I curse you and all the work of your foul hands, Morgoth Bauglir!"
But he is gone, and somehow the silence that returns as the echoes of my voice fade is worse than any of his words, his laughter.
I hear the heavy, uneven tread of an Orc as it enters the room behind me.
"Lord, are you finished here?" it asks, eyeing the golden hangings on Turgon's walls with a greedy eye. Idril's face is a picture of disgust.
"How you can even speak to that thing." she says, but I ignore her.
"Yes. The Queen of Gondolin and I are going for a walk." I say conversationally, and take Idril's hand. She pulls away, so I grab her wrist and hold her tightly. She struggles, but she knows my strength is greater than hers. In the end, she stands still and allows me to lead her towards the battlement walls.
"I have never looked down on the city from the walls." I say. "The House of the Mole often had little time to look up at the sun. Our efforts were concerned in digging gems from the ground in the mines." As I speak, I pull her outside, and she gasps at the devastation. Almost all the buildings are burnt, smashed or otherwise in ruins. Everything that was fair and lovely about Gondolin is gone, and the sky is obscured by thick grey cloud. A bitter wind blows down from the mountains, and snow begins to fall. I am glad I wrapped Idril in my cloak, for she feels the cold more keenly than most after her crossing of the Ice as a child. Still she shivers, her eyes dead as they take in the ruin of her home.
"Is this what you wished for?" She asks bitterly, her voice thick with tears not yet fallen. And then I realise. Morgoth has twice broken his promise to me, for this is not what I wished for. I wanted Gondolin to be joyful and beautiful, mixing radiant sunlight with cool shade, the laughter and study of many of my people below, and I would rule with the Silverfoot as my queen. I did not wish to be the lord of this ruined city of ghosts, and to lead this shadow of what was once the proud and beautiful Idril forever.
I make no answer, and she stands inert for a little while. Then, she suddenly wrenches free from my grip and runs wildly from me, flinging my cloak from her shoulders as she runs, a vision of radiant white, a falling star.
I try to stop her, but it is too late.
"No! Idril!" I cry, but she is gone. Gone forever, and she has wrenched my soul from me. I sold everything for her, my darling Idril, and now once again I am left with a handful of crushed leaves blowing in the wind. The only light in my life has gone, and I am left with darkness.
So what remains for me now? I do not know. I should have known he would betray me, and now I cannot leave, doomed to wander the ruin of my city forever, and alone. I look up towards the black heights of the Caragdûr that reach beyond the walls, and the sudden drop at their end. Yes, this is where my father fell to his death at the hands of Turgon, no, at my own hands. It should have been me that took the javelin. I will go there and sit a while, and look down. For surely it is easy to fall from such a great height.
The End
PROLOGUE
I remember one time as a child I walked in the forest with my father, in the shadows of day in Nan Emloth. Suddenly, I saw something sparkling in the leaves, drawing me to it. I leapt upon it, and eagerly grasped a handful of dry leaves. My father stopped walking, and turned to me.
"Maeglin son? What are you doing? Drop those at once."
I shook my head, drawing them closer to my chest. We locked eyes, and I held my father's gaze and strove against his will. But his power was greater than mine and I feared his fury. Unwillingly, I let my hands open.
There was nothing there but crushed leaves.
Lómion
Darkness. All around, filling every corner of the room. I ordered the Orcs to cover the windows, to bar out the daylight. I do not want the light that shone once on glorious Gondolin invading my rooms. But what surrounds me now is more than simple darkness. It is oppressive, the absence of light, the twisted shadow of the Dark One. I fear Him, and trust not His promises. Half the bargain is fulfilled, and Gondolin is mine. I sit on my broken throne and wait for Him to speak.
I feel His presence around me, mocking and praising, twisting the shadows, cloaking me in His darkness. He speaks, and I sense the words rather than hear them.
"Betrayer." He titles me. "Here is the prize you would have above the lives of your people."
"Liar." I reply. "You have not fulfilled your side of the deal."
There is an amused silence.
"The Lord of the Earth does not leave his bargains unfulfilled, even to a betrayer like yourself. Take your precious flower, and look upon your mighty kingdom!" His voice crescendos to a mighty roar, raising echoes throughout the ruined palace. And somewhere outside the throne room, in the corridor, I hear another voice cry out, and my heart stops.
Idril?
The door is flung open, and two Orcs drag a struggling white figure. She cries out again, and one of the Orcs brings down the handle of its scimitar on her golden head. She reels, her cry silenced. I jump to my feet in anger.
"She was not to be hurt!" I cry to the darkness, His terrible laughter surrounding me. The Orcs approach the throne, and fling her to my feet, and depart, their heavy tread echoing through the hall.
For a moment nothing moves, and there is an unbroken quiet.
Slowly, tremulously, I reach out a hand to touch her. My breaths are coming fast, and my heart is pounding. I lift a lock of golden hair, and run it between my fingers. Is she real? Is this really happening?
"Idril?"
She lifts her head slightly, too weak to fight me, her eyes filled with hate and loathing. I let out a long breath, trembling as I kneel down and my hand runs down the length of her golden hair and onto her soft, white arm. It is almost too much to take. The possession of Idril Celebrindal, lovely fair Idril, the Silverfoot of Gondolin. Mine. Mine to possess, to own. I feel a giddy rush of fear at the thought. The intensity of her gaze, the same Noldorin fire that once shone in my mother, burns me now. I cannot look at her, and I am forced to turn my face away. My Idril, how are you so radiant? Even in the darkness of the ruined throne-room, you are too bright for my eyes.
"Why?"
Why? One simple world, falls from her lips. Barely a question. I know the answer, for I have prepared it in my head.
"Because I can give you a better life. Because I cannot bear to see you throw your life away with the mortal." Her gaze is piercing, burning.
"Because I love you." I say, but it comes out as a whisper. I have never felt this much concentrated hate before, whether in the hard glances of the Golodhrim behind my back as they named me Moriquendi, or the fury in my father's eyes as he cast the javelin at me, aiming to strike me down, to take my life. No, Idril hates me more than he ever did. The words dry up in my mouth, the long speeches I had prepared in my mind, the joy we would have together, the birth of our children. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
"What are you, cousin?"
Something snaps inside me, and I turn on her and cry suddenly, wildly, "No worse than what you are!" She flinches. "Kinslayer! Thief of my heart! For your city's laws, both my mother and father wait in Mandos for release! And now," I grab her and pull her roughly to her feet, "Your precious city has fallen because you refused my love."
A single tear rolls down Idril's cheek, and she starts to shiver as if very cold. Numbly I wipe the tear away with my forge-hardened hand.
Idril, I'm sorry.
I unfasten my cloak, held with my mother's brooch, and wrap it around Idril. Cloaked in black, bruised and dirty, she still is more radiant than the sun over Gondolin on a spring morning.
"Cousin Maeglin, it could have been different. It should have been different. But I cannot change my heart."
A spark of hope lights inside me, and bursts into a flame. "You. love me?"
With a simple shake of her head, she crushes me. Oh Idril! You are just as much a kinslayer as your father! While his sword took the lives of my kin, your words, your movement, is so much worse.
"Maeglin. I am wed."
It crashes down on me then. The Dark Lord has broken our bargain, or it was false from the start. For I can never truly possess Idril Celebrindal, for she belongs to another, and if I take her by force, I will lose her forever. The liar! With a cry I fling her aside and scream at him.
"Liar! Breaker of promises! I curse you and all the work of your foul hands, Morgoth Bauglir!"
But he is gone, and somehow the silence that returns as the echoes of my voice fade is worse than any of his words, his laughter.
I hear the heavy, uneven tread of an Orc as it enters the room behind me.
"Lord, are you finished here?" it asks, eyeing the golden hangings on Turgon's walls with a greedy eye. Idril's face is a picture of disgust.
"How you can even speak to that thing." she says, but I ignore her.
"Yes. The Queen of Gondolin and I are going for a walk." I say conversationally, and take Idril's hand. She pulls away, so I grab her wrist and hold her tightly. She struggles, but she knows my strength is greater than hers. In the end, she stands still and allows me to lead her towards the battlement walls.
"I have never looked down on the city from the walls." I say. "The House of the Mole often had little time to look up at the sun. Our efforts were concerned in digging gems from the ground in the mines." As I speak, I pull her outside, and she gasps at the devastation. Almost all the buildings are burnt, smashed or otherwise in ruins. Everything that was fair and lovely about Gondolin is gone, and the sky is obscured by thick grey cloud. A bitter wind blows down from the mountains, and snow begins to fall. I am glad I wrapped Idril in my cloak, for she feels the cold more keenly than most after her crossing of the Ice as a child. Still she shivers, her eyes dead as they take in the ruin of her home.
"Is this what you wished for?" She asks bitterly, her voice thick with tears not yet fallen. And then I realise. Morgoth has twice broken his promise to me, for this is not what I wished for. I wanted Gondolin to be joyful and beautiful, mixing radiant sunlight with cool shade, the laughter and study of many of my people below, and I would rule with the Silverfoot as my queen. I did not wish to be the lord of this ruined city of ghosts, and to lead this shadow of what was once the proud and beautiful Idril forever.
I make no answer, and she stands inert for a little while. Then, she suddenly wrenches free from my grip and runs wildly from me, flinging my cloak from her shoulders as she runs, a vision of radiant white, a falling star.
I try to stop her, but it is too late.
"No! Idril!" I cry, but she is gone. Gone forever, and she has wrenched my soul from me. I sold everything for her, my darling Idril, and now once again I am left with a handful of crushed leaves blowing in the wind. The only light in my life has gone, and I am left with darkness.
So what remains for me now? I do not know. I should have known he would betray me, and now I cannot leave, doomed to wander the ruin of my city forever, and alone. I look up towards the black heights of the Caragdûr that reach beyond the walls, and the sudden drop at their end. Yes, this is where my father fell to his death at the hands of Turgon, no, at my own hands. It should have been me that took the javelin. I will go there and sit a while, and look down. For surely it is easy to fall from such a great height.
The End