Chapter 4:

Gildor's heart was still heavy within him as he closed the door to Finrod's library, his father's words had not allayed any of his fears. For a moment he stood with his forehead resting against the solid wooden door, trying to gather his wits. Finally, he straightened with a purpose and turned to carry out his king's command, only to be brought face to face with Meordel, her black hair shining hints of red in the flickering light of the sconces. Gildor was momentarily rendered speechless in surprise. Meordel looked at him with concerned, searching eyes.

"My cousin told me you were home," was all she said, but Gildor was able to read the questions she was really asking in her eyes: 'What has troubled you? How can I help?'

'Ai, Misterienya,' thought Gildor, 'our doom has come for us.' He moved to run a hand through her hair, then thought better of it, his hand dropping back to his side. Abruptly he turned and strode off down the hall towards the Gate, leaving the Linda shocked, and not a little hurt, behind.

The elleth narrowed her eyes at the back of the retreating ellon and hastened to catch up with him.

"Gildor," she demanded, having to walk very quickly to keep up with the long strides of the taller ellon. "Tell me what is wrong."

When Gildor merely shook his head sadly, she tried again. "Inglorion," she asked, placing a hand on his elbow, "will you not even tell me where you are going?"

"An excellent question, sister," said Lindan as he approached from a connecting hallway, arms crossed and glaring belligerently at the Noldo. "And one which I would like an answer to, myself."

Gildor shook his head. "I have no time to talk, I must be to Amon Ethir, and back again, as soon as possible."

Lindan raised an eyebrow at that. "Very well," he said, "then let us go."

Gildor reached the end of his patience, and with an inarticulate sound of frustration, he said, "I do not have time to play your games, tirn."

"You are right, of course, tegith," the Linda said with a deferential bow. Then he turned to Meordel, who was quietly fuming at the two stubborn ellyn. "Sorry, Love," he said, kissing her on the cheek, "but we must be off again. Coming, tegith nîn?"

Gildor sighed, knowing that he was not going to get rid of the Linda now, and the two ellyn turned to go. They were brought up very quickly, though, when Meordel, who had grown tired of being passed off, grabbed the backs of their tunics to stop them.

"Daro!" she said, eyes flashing. "You will not ignore me like this, either of you. I know something is going on. And you know what it is." When Lindan shook his head, she turned glinting indigo eyes on Gildor. "It has something to do with that adan you brought back with you, doesn't it? Are yrc attempting to cross the Talath again?"

Gildor shook his head and sighed again. He took Meordel by the shoulders. "I am sorry if I appear to be slighting you, Meordel. That is the furthest thing from my intention, but I cannot give you the answers you want." When she moved as if she would speak, he tightened his hold on her shoulders. "I cannot because I do not know what is happening, myself. It is not orqui, but I fear that something evil is at work here. Please, Misterienya, stay by Aernellien, and keep as far away from the sons of Fëanáro as possible."

"Your words do nothing to calm my fears, Gildor," she said, searching his face for any more clues about this new peril. When she could find none to satify her, she sighed and said, "Go and fulfill our King's charge, but come back quickly." She shifted her gaze to include Lindan, who smiled back at her.

Gildor gave her a small smile, as well, his eyes twinkling. "As you command, tarinya," he said, taking her hand and bowing over it with mock gravity.

Meordel laughed and swatted his shoulder. "Do not mock me, Gilchen," she said.

"I wouldn't dare, Misterienya," he said with a straight face, although Meordel could see that he was still joking. "Your cousin would string me from a tree, if I did," he said with one last smile, glancing at Lindan, before he turned to go.

"The Golda does have some sense after all," Lindan grinned. He leaned in and gave his cousin another kiss, but she caught his arm before he could leave.

"Stay with him," she said.

"Always, herinya," the Linda said with a court bow, and followed his Noldorin friend.

Meordel, however, stayed gazing absently down the hallway for several minutes. Misterienya, he had called her. Twice. He had never placed a possessive on her name before, and the novelty of it sent a thrill to her heart. She tried the title on her own lips, and found that she quite liked it. She turned, smiling, to seek out Aernellien and inform her that her beloved nephew's stubbornness might possibly be waning.

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No words were spoken by Gildor and Lindan as they gathered their cloaks and their horses and set off north along the Gorge of the Narog. Gildor was still troubled by his conference with Finrod, and the Linda respected his friend's silence.

Gildor kept as quick a pace as the hills of the Taur-en-Faroth allowed. After nearly an hour's silent travel, the two ellyn reached the last of the Hills and allowed their horses to gather themselves for the dash across the Talath-en-Ginglith.

Lindan rested a leg across his horse's withers and turned to his companion. He had long grown weary of his brooding silence.

"So, martyawë," he asked, "were your predictions of doom accurate?"

Gildor gazed out across the plain. "Worse," he said.

Lindan narrowed his eyes at the Noldo. "What was this adan seeking that he has you so tied up in knots? And what does he have to do with the Sons of Fire?" When it seemed as if his friend would not answer right away, Lindan sighed and looked out across the plain as well. "I have never heard you be so abrupt with Meordel as you were this morning. You know, mela, if I had less of a sense of humor I would be very angry with you right now."

Gildor looked at his companion somewhat sheepishly. Then he sobered and said, "I fear Nargothrond is going to split wide open, Lindan. The adan and the sons of Fëanor seek the same thing." He pounded his fist into his thigh in frustration. "Why must the sons of Fëanor ruin everything we Noldor try to accomplish?" he cried.

Lindan snorted inelegantly. "You Goldas," he said. "Sometimes I wonder why you do not topple under your own ponderous weight. If one leaf falls in a forest, you say that winter is upon us. You know we Úmanyar could say the same of all of you Amanyar. But we don't, at least not if we're smart. This is Arda Marred, mela," he said, seriously. "Unless and until the Balas in the West take heed of our plight, we are subject to all of that twisted Bala's whims."

Gildor pondered his friend's words in silence for a few minutes, then, with a sigh, he smiled grimly. "Well said, Ngolmo," he said, "you are right..."

"Of course I'm right," the Linda muttered.

Gildor smiled more fully. "But now is not time for philosophizing." He gestured towards the Ford of Narog in the far distance. "Race to the Ford, mela?" And with that he spurred his horse down the hill and out across the plain, leaving Lindan cursing 'mercuric and impatient Goldas' and haring off after his friend.

It did not take Lindan long to catch up with the Noldo. For all that the Lindar preferred trees, they had a way with animals which made them equal horsemen to any of the followers of Oromë. When the other elf pulled along side him, Gildor looked over at his friend, and saw the same joy he felt reflected in his friend's eyes. Lindan turned to Gildor. He smiled impishly, golden eyes glinting, and he urged his horse ahead of the Noldo.

Gildor threw his head back and laughed with joy of life. For the moment doom and mortals and fey kings and sons of Fëanor were forgotten and he urged his horse to catch the dark elf ahead of them.

In the end, Lindan reached the Ford before Gildor, and stood waiting on the eastern bank. "Good race, gwador," he said when Gildor rode up the bank.

Gildor merely smiled at him, bright blue eyes shining, and said, "The race is not over, gwador," before spurring his mount back south towards Amon Ethir.

Lindan shook his head. "Should we let them get away with that, fair one?" His horse tossed her head and pawed the ground. "Quite right," Lindan said, and released her to catch up with the gold Noldo.

As it turned out, the two ellyn did not have to travel all the way to the Amon, for as they pulled away from the Ford, Gildor noticed three horsemen riding towards them. He motioned for Lindan to slow down, and the two stopped to await the riders' approach. The Riders appeared to notice them at the same time, for they sped up, and Gildor was soon able to recognize Orodreth and two of his commanders. It was difficult to say which party was more surprised to find the other tearing across the Guarded Plain, and for a moment no one spoke.

Then, Orodreth addressed Gildor. "What brings you back here so soon, cousin," he asked calmly, though his posture was tense.

"The King says that you are needed in Nargothrond, tegith," Gildor replied formally, indicating the serious and official nature of his journey.

Orodreth nodded, and seemed to shrink somewhat with sadness. "That adan and your words, Gildor, have been much on my mind since you left. I had a feeling that I was needed in the city," he said.

The equanimity which the ride had restored to Gildor disappeared as he saw the resignation in the eyes of Finrod's nephew. "Have you seen something?" Gildor asked in alarm.

Orodreth shook his head. "I have seen nothing," he said firmly, "I said it was only a feeling. But, come, we have no time to sit and debate." He glanced at his two silent companions, then turned back to Gildor and Lindan. "Our horses are fresher than yours, cousin. Herdir and Neledhon will take your mounts back to Amon Ethir, and the three of us will return to Nargothrond."

Gildor nodded, and he and Lindan dismounted. As the two Sindar turned to make their slower way back to Amon Ethir, Orodreth, Gildor and Lindan spurred their horses to the Ford and back along the western bank.

The ride across the Talath-en-Ginglith was made in silence, and the three elves rode their horses to their limits, urgency and dread returning. When they reached the Caverns of Nargothrond, they were surprised to see that the outer parts of the city were empty but for the door-wards. They soon learned, though, that King Finrod had called the inhabitants of his city together in the Great Hall.

Hearing this, Gildor had a dread feeling that he was too late; although to do what and for what, he could not say. He broke into a run through the carven halls of Finrod's city, heading towards the Hall, Orodreth and Lindan close beside him. As they got closer to the Hall, they heard the unmistakable sound of the voice of a son of Feänor raised in anger. With a fearful glance at his companions, Gildor pushed his way through the crowded doorway and into the Hall.

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Notes:

(Words marked with an asterisk, *, are words which I have re-constructed, and are therefore subject to error.)

Misterienya: Misterien + -nya; Misterien is one possible form of Meordel's name in Quenya, -nya is the first person possessive pronominal suffix.

tirn: guard/sentry (S). Lindan's actual rank is as a regular sentry of Nargothrond, but his close friendship with Gildor means that he acts more as his aide than anything else. Hence his ability to freely travel with Gildor.

*tegith: leader/commander (S). Gildor commands Nargothrond's 'perimeter' guards along the Pinnath Dirnen and the Taur-en-Faroth.

daro: stop, imperative (S)

yrc: orcs (Nandorin)

orqui: orcs (Q)

tarinya: my queen (Q)

Golda: Noldo (N)

herinya: my lady (Q)

Talath-en-Ginglith: Plain of the Ginglith (S); another of my made-up place names, the plain north of Nargothrond, west of Narog and bounded by the Ginglith to the north.

martyawë: doom-sayer (Q)

*mela: friend (N)

*Goldas: Noldor (N)

Úmanyar: elves not of Aman (Q)

Amanyar: elves of Aman (Q)

*Balas: Valar (N)

*Bala: Vala (N)

Ngolmo: in this context, philosopher (Q)

gwador: brother (S)

A note on distances: The River Narog is described by Tolkien as being "some eighty leagues" (or 240 miles) long, Nargothrond being positioned roughly in the middle. (Silmarillion, p. 142) The ford which the Nargothrondrim used at the confluence of Ginglith and Narog is approximately one third the distance between Nargothrond and the sources of Narog at Ivrin, or about 34 miles. Tolkien never specifies where Amon Ethir is, other than saying that it is one league (3 miles) east of Nargothrond. For my purposes, I have placed it on a high hill in the Pinnath Dirnen, roughly parallel to the City. The round trip from Nargothrond to Amon Ethir and back could be made in about four hours, riding at a horse's top speed over mixed terrain, and changing mounts at Amon Ethir. On foot, as Gildor and Beren did earlier, the one-way journey would take at least a couple of days; especially if, as Tolkien says, they traveled only under the cover of darkness.