The Gondolindrim had all been brimming with anticipation the whole day, now, on the eve of the first day of Summer, they all stood upon the eastern wall of the White City, waiting.
Waiting for Anar to rise and greet the first of warm, beautiful and bright days of summer, as it did for more than a century by then. Sinilatamo looked to his right, smiling at the brown haired elleth whose hand he was holding, his vanimelda*, as he called her. She smiled back, placing her index finger on her mouth to indicate they should still be silent. He nodded.
Indeed, such was the custom in the eve of the Gates of Summer. None of them would speak from midnight to daybreak, the only sounds those of nature around them, the wind blowing from the Crissaegrim, the streams rolling down the Echoriath. It was also custom that a solemn ceremony was to take place at midnight, signaling the start of the silent vigil. Sinilatamo looked around him. His Lord Pendelot stood with the other twelve Lords behind King Turukano and Princess Itarille. Down the eastern wall, he spotted Angamir with a group of his fellow smiths. He held back a chuckle. It was… odd seeing his usually chatty and cheerful friend be still as a statue and with a serious face.
But again, such was the custom.
Sinilatamo brought his attention back to the horizon. The vigil went on, slowly as the last stars faded and the dark blue of the night brightened to azure. He wondered what it would be like to celebrate the Gates of Summer in Valinor, waiting for the first light of Laurelin as Telperion faded, before the Darkening. All he knew about the Trees was through his own parent’s recollections, as he was born in Middle Earth, near lake Mithrim and the Sun the only daylight he ever saw. Perhaps they did, by another name, or not. His parents never told him, and he never asked, wary of causing painful memories resurface for the Exiles.
He instead called his thoughts back from their meandering and onto the brightening sky, now tinted a faint rose in the horizon. Not a sound still escaped their lips, not until…
The first spark appeared over the eastern line of the Echoriath. The first ray of the summer sun hit the highest of the city’s towers, and suddenly a ringing voice shouted from the wall:
"Ela! Andonavestan túlar! Laitalë!"***
“LAITALË!”
Shouted the Eldar in unison, exploding in cheer as the silent vigil broke and they welcomed first day of summer. Many voices joined in singing ancient songs and Sinilatamo as well, twirling his vanimelda in his arms, “Come! Let us go help with the decorations” she urged him, to a terrace where many silver lamps were stacked, the Gondolindrim distributing them to fill the city with lights, ribbons and silk weaves with many colored jewels. Together, he and his beloved helped decorate the trees of the city, hanging the weaves on their branches. All through the process they sang, and sang and sang in happiness. Sinilatamo loved these moments most of their secret life enclosed in the mountains, and hoped there could me many more to come.
quenya words:
Pendelot: quenya translation of Penlod
*vanimelda, beloved and beautiful
**Ela! Andonavestan túlar! Laitalë!, Behold! the Gates of Summer have come, praise!
Andonavestan is early Quenya for Gates of Summer, as in Gondolin the main language was quenya, I figured it was better to use that translation over Tarnin Austa or Ternin Awest/Ennyn Awest. Oh and of course, this is not the infamous Gates of the Fall, but a lot earlier ;)
