Eliriael

The crowd gathered in solemn remembrance for the city that burned before them. Women wept softly, children cried out for their parents and the men of the City stood in silent despair. Their King was dead and their city was in ruins. They were refugees, the lucky few who had escaped, for the throng numbered a few hundred, no more and for a while they were leaderless until Tuor went about them, shaking them from their sorrows and organising what fighting troops were left.

Eliriael had spent countless days in the rain and sunshine of the valley. Little did she know of the time that passed her. She visited all her favorite places of old, friends she had not seen in many years, and found new fascinations in the changing leaves and waters.

Eliriael descended down the long, winding path into the valley. She patted the neck of her horse, Faenaur, showing affection and gratitude to her friend, who had carried her over a long distance for many days. Faenaur seemed to sense that they had reached their destination and gradually slowed her steps to a full stop. Eliriael deftly slid off Faenaur’s back to the ground in one fluid movement. She did not ride unless there was need for she wished as little discomfort upon her friend.

She opened her eyes slowly, her eyelids heavy with a stupor left behind the onslaught of anxiety and panic. The shadow passed away into the edges of her vision until they withdrew completely, leaving a tall figure standing before her. She found her image of Mandos as valiant and beautiful as she could have imagined a Valar to be, but she did not understand why he dressed himself in battle-worn clothes and bleeding wounds upon his face. Perhaps Mandos robed himself in death.

“What is your name?” he asked gently.

They crept upstairs where there were many beds laid out and shelves against the walls stocked with various herbs and medicinal liquids. Eliriael spent much of her time here watching her mother tend to the injured. “Eli,” her mother whispered, giving a sad smile. She kneeled down to her daughter’s level and hugged her in a tight embrace, speaking softly. “Hide beneath this bed and do not come out until I say or all is silent outside. You must make your way to the Hidden Passage at all costs, do you understand?”

The twinkling lights danced in the bright eyes of young Eliriael and the night air caressed her cheeks with warmth as she stood on the city wall awaiting the first brush of sunlight in the dark. All around the young elf was merriment and laughter for it was the night before the Gates of Summer in the city of Gondolin. Today, she would be allowed to stay late into the night dancing and celebrating while the elves gathered to watch the rising of the sun at dawn.