Chapter 8:  an undying love

Glorfindel shook his head when his thoughts returned to the present. Half a year had passed since he had met Elvëa, but it seemed to him like yesterday.

He had found his soul mate, and not one day since that day by the lake had they been parted. Fortunately Elvëa´s parents had accepted him with open arms. They had both seen that the two young elves were united in a deep love. Glorfindel was young, but he was already Lord of his house and one of King Turgon´s patrol commanders.

Elvëa had never been happier since meeting this smart ellon and Calan, her father, had in good conscience agreed that the two could be betrothed. He was sure that Glorfindel would soon ask for his daughter’s hand.

This was exactly what Glorfindel had planned for tonight. Before the sun would creep over the mountain tops he would ask her father. She was the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Elvëa had a deep understanding of the world, she was open-minded and caring, yet she could fiercely state her position and Glorfindel loved her for this. They were equally matched and he was often hard pressed to win a horse race or a bow competition against her.

Sometimes Elvëa seemed sad that she could not explore the world beyond the encircling mountains. Even if Glorfindel shared her longing, he was glad that she was safe and he had not to worry about her when he was away on patrol.

He shook again his head. Today was too lovely to waste a single moment with gloomy thoughts. Ecthelion had already headed away. After fetching Elvëa they would meet at the great plaza where everything was already bustling with activity because of the upcoming feast.

Every year, the elves would greet the beginning of the summer while standing on the high walls of the city and looking into the sunrise. It was always an impressive spectacle. This year would be his special highlight, he was sure of that.

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Glorfindel did not turn at the cries coming from the left. It did not matter anymore. The city would fall and he could no longer do anything to prevent it. With long strides, he hastened down the street. He had to avoid broken stones and burning timbers. Within minutes, the town had turned into a burning ruin.

His lungs burned from the acrid smoke and his skin felt on fire, yet he had only one goal, to reach Elvëa´s house and flee with her before the city could be razed to the ground. Since the morning when the Balrogs, iron monsters and other foul creatures had attacked, half of the population of Gondolin had been killed. Their resistance had been weak, so great were the losses among the warriors and elves who would have been able to stand against the attacker during the first hour. The attack had hit them unprepared, the magnitude of the onslaught overpowering and therefore demanding its high tribute.

After King Turgon had fallen, buried under the rubble of his palace, the chaos had erupted. The remaining inhabitants did no longer follow any order, they had forgotten, or were never told what to do while under attack. So Glorfindel was powerless against the masses of elves rushing toward the great gates. He shuddered. The gates were still closed and it would end in a massacre. Uncounted Balrogs, orcs and dragons were already waiting outside to devour whatever would come through these gates.

He was one of the few elves who knew about the secret tunnel that Idril, the daughter of Turgon, had build along the mountain pass and out of the vale long ago due to her some foresight. Now it would be their only chance of escape, if at all. Yet he would not go without Elvëa.

He ducked as another wall crumbled under the fiery breath of a Balrog and turned to the left into the street where Elvëa´s parents resided. He stopped momentarily. All the buildings on this side of the street were burning or had already crumbled.

He quickened his step and without hesitation entered the house. He could not see the end of his outstretched hand; the house was filled with thick smoke. His heart clenched. Hopefully, Elvëa and her family had left before the fire had spread.

Just as he wanted to turn away, he heard something. A faint sound between a sob and a cry, followed by a curse. He swallowed. Even while the fire was making so much noise, he was sure the sound had come from Elvëa.

“Elvëa!” he cried while hastening though what had once been the entrance hall. Dodging a falling timber from the ceiling, he stormed into the living room. Elvëa was kneeling, struggling to lift a limp body into her arms. Seeing that it was Calan, Glorfindel knelt next to her, touching her shoulder.

With wide eyes, a face smeared with soot and her long hair already scorched, she whirled around.

“Glorfindel, Valar be praised, please help me, Adar needs help.”

Seeing that no help could succour the older elf, Glorfindel turned her around while gripping both of her shoulders.

“Elvëa, he’s dead, we have to leave. The city will fall.”

The fair haired woman looked up, incredulity in her eyes.

“I will not leave without him, Glorfindel….”

“Elvëa, if we not leave now, we will die here. Your Adar would not have wanted this, now come.”

With a determined tug Glorfindel pulled the tall woman to her feet and gripped her hand tightly. He could barely see his way through the smoke, nor could he inhale without coughing.

His eyes watering, he had somehow reached the entrance and with quick strides, he stepped outside. He took a deep breath, but the air was barely any fresher. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Glorfindel looked up and swallowed. The whole sky was coloured red, heralding the near end of the city.

Quickly looking into his love’s eyes, he squeezed her hand and together they ran along the street, past burning buildings, already collapsed walls and over black clumps on the street Glorfindel did not care to investigate further.

When they reached the plaza, Glorfindel stopped abruptly, causing Elvëa to bump into him. Looking at her love’s face, she followed the gaze of his wide-open eyes and let out a cry of horror.

Within the fountain in the middle of the plaza stood a Balrog crashing and roaring, the water splashing everywhere. However, what had caused the frozen gaze of the warrior was not the horrendous creature, but the lone elf fighting the monster.

Just as Elvëa uttered her cry, the Balrog let out a breath of all consuming fire, killing the elf instantly and evaporating the remaining water in one giant steam eruption.

Glorfindel had no time to grieve for his best friend, because it had been none other than Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, fighting against an overwhelming foe. He only grabbed Elvëa´s hand firmer and run with her across the plaza. Alerted by the cry, the Balrog had already directed his attention on the two running elves.

When another mighty roar sounded, Glorfindel looked back over his shoulder and again his blood froze in his veins. The Balrog had straightened up to his full height and his mighty tail had crashed into the citadel shattering the imposing building into pieces. 

Great stone debris rained all around them, wrapping them in a thick cloud of smoke. Suddenly Elvëa was ripped out of his grasp when a massive stone crashed into his back.

His world went black, although only for a moment. He scrambled back on his feet. The sharp pain coming from his back made his head swim and bile rose in his throat. Despite the heat from all around, he could feel warm liquid trickle down his spine.

Ignoring all this, he looked around in panic.

“Elvëa?” he cried, in a faint attempt to overpower the uproar the Balrog was making.  His heart almost stopped when he noticed a pale hand jutting out from beneath a heap of stones.

He had no time, however, to make a conscious decision. The Balrog marched near and had already opened his mouth for another fire burst.

What however would haunt him even in his dreams, was when he saw how the giant creature stepped on the rubble Elvëa was buried under. If she had not been dead already she surely was it now. His unearthly cry of rage and despair went unheard in the face the din the Balrog was making while letting forth his fiery breath.

At the last moment, Glorfindel stumbled backwards, his skin already burning and his long hair scorching in the flames. With an effort he could later not recount, he somehow managed to escape. He stumbled and fell, pulled himself up again and run as fast as his injured back would allow him.

Sometime later, he had put enough distance between him and the still raging Balrog that he could stop for breath. Glorfindel wiped the tears from his swollen eyes and looked around. It had become oddly silent, the last gasps of a dying city.  

Gradually, his rational thinking returned and he recognized that he was near the hidden entrance to the underground tunnel Idril had designed. He looked around. He had expected countless citizens to be gathered here to use the tunnel and flee from the city, but he could not see one elf.

Even the noise of fighting guards and crying people had become fainter and fainter. Already he feared that he was the only survivor so far. Never had he thought that the city could be destroyed this fast and this utterly. They had been much too self-confident and blind. Yet the attacking force had been overwhelming and merciless.

With a last look into the sanguine sky, he slipped into the hidden crevice that someone who did not know what to look for would never find.

The darkness in the tunnel and the stale air was a stark contrast to the atmosphere outside and he carefully inhaled and for a moment treasured the cool atmosphere.

He leaned his forehead against the cool stone wall and let his sword clatter to the ground. He felt utterly devastated and ashamed for leaving the city like this, but confronting the masses of orcs and hordes of Balrogs would achieve nothing.

Yet he contemplated going back to die with all the people he had known and loved here. His mind nearly made up, he lifted his head at a faint sound. He quickly picked up his sword and followed the curve of the tunnel until he could make out a faint light.

Not long after he discovered a long row of elves marching in single file up the incline. He quickly closed the distance and had already marched past the last elves, touching a shoulder in passing and even spending a smile at surprised and hopeful faces.

As he had hoped, Idril and her husband Tuor were marching at the front. Idril whirled around when Glofindel called out to her.

“Glorfindel, the Valar be praised, you are alive,” she cried while hugging the warrior unconditionally. Glorfindel smiled. Idril was indistinguishable from the other women in the trek, her hair and dress as dirty as the others. This was one of the reasons why he held the daughter of the King in high esteem.

Her eyes held an unvoiced question and he only shook his head. Having known Elvëa well, being the daughter of her father’s cousin, a single tear slipped down her cheeks. She would not show her feelings in public even if no one on this trek would mind. Glorfindel was grateful for this gesture nonetheless.

Tuor had come over.

“Glorfindel, I’m glad to see you,” the son of Huor greeted the warrior with his easy attitude.

“We have almost reached the end of the tunnel. With a bit of luck we can leave the valley by nightfall.”

Glorfindel nodded and followed the man to the head of the long row of elves. Even if it was a fair number of survivors, it was but for all that, a pitifully small group that had escaped the total destruction.

Even though they had almost reached the mouth of the tunnel, the progress they were making was very slow. Many women with small children and wounded slowed them considerably. Glorfindel looked back constantly, anxiously expecting a Balrog to come after them at any moment. If they could reach the top of the pass then they had a really good chance to escape……..

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Elrond had closed his eyes after Glorfindel had finished. Every elfling knew what had happened to the survivors of Gondolin and especially to Glorfindel. For long moments, the two Elf-lords sat in silence but suddenly Elrond jerked his head up.

“You cannot positively say that the women we rescued from Ortanc is…….. Elvëa?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

The warrior had sprung up.

“Yes….no, Elrond, I´m not sure, but never before had I found a soul mate like Elvëa.  Never before has my heart beat like in her presence. Elrond, what if it is she….?”

The healer shook his head.

“Glorfindel, you said she died the day Gondolin fell….”

“I know but what if she was not dead? Valar, Elrond I left her behind and she was alive….”

Glorfindel made a helpless gesture.

Elrond had also risen.

“Glorfindel, stop this. I´m sure, even if she did survive, that the woman in my infirmary is not Elvëa.

Elrond swallowed at the look from the steel blue eyes.

“Are you sure, Elrond, are you really sure?”

To be continued……………………….