03:49:59
Vingilotz sits at the hearth in the Great Hall of Fire, listening to the voices in the background. A young male Elf sits next to him."They whisper you are old, Mithfin... but old enough to have seen the Noldor princes?" he asks.
Vingilotz shakes his head. "My past is my business, and I rarely talk about it."
The young Elf stares into the fire. "Master Elrond says a great evil stirs in the East... and a dark evil has risen in Hithaighlin....quite close to here." The Elf shivers, though it is warm. Vingilotz looks at him. "Are you afraid?". The young Elf shakes his head. "You should be." states Vingilotz.
He ponders for a moment and sighs. "Let me tell you the story of Gondolin... so you can prepare facing your fears." The young Elf brightens. "Please tell me!"
"I was a young Elf, like you are now, only 33 years of age. I had entered the hidden Vale of Tumladen a few years before, when Lord Glorfindel had saved me from a perilous situation."
"Lord Glorfindel?", the young Elf asked, "The one who returned from the Halls of Mandos?"
Vingilotz nods. "He was Lord of one of the Twelve Houses of Gondolin, the House of the Golden Flower. I served in that House from the moment I entered Gondolin and Glorfindel commanded me. I... Great was the white city of Fountains... The power of the Noldor was strong there. I learned to craft weapons there, being tought by the Noldorian smiths of the House. I crafted a blade there... dark was its hilt but bright was its blade... covered in runes. A masterpiece. Mormenar was its Quenyan name."
The young Elf hands a cup of wine to Vingilotz. After taking a sip, he continued:"I learned many crafts there, but became particularly proficient in blade and bow. That was not a luxury in the end...
"One day, the armies of Morgoth were at the White Walls. Countless Wargs and Orcs there were, and even more minions." Vingilotz bends over to the young Elf and whispers: "Fire Dragons and.... Balrogs."
The young Elf's eyes widened.
"The House of the Golden Flower fought our main battle in the Great Market, in the east part of the city, where we were ambushed by a host of Orcs led by Balrogs. The white walls were stained red with blood and black with ash".
The old Elf turns pale, remembering the scene. "We were able to hold them for a long time and we fought bravely, side by side. My bow sang amidst the fire and Mormenar swung in the air. We were fighting for hours... hours." The grey haired Elf silences for a moment. "All seemed well until the dragon came."
Vingilotz stares into the fire and closes his eyes, saying no more.
~~~~~~~~~~
Vingilotz takes a small brooch from his pocket. There is a heraldic symbol engraved on it: a rayed sun.
"The House of the Golden Flower..." he whispers, "many of it's fine members died when the Fire Dragon came down from the direction of the North Gate and broke our lines. Brave Elves, who fought next to me, were cast to the walls and their bodies were broken."
The grey Elf silences for a moment and the young Elf sees that his eyes have become moist. Vingilotz swallows once and continues: "We retreated, fighting our way back west to the King's square... only few of us made it. But we were driven by the bright spirit of Lord Glorfindel; where his sword flung, hope sprang up in our hearts. Mormenar was covered in a thick layer of black blood that day."
"Mormenar was your sword, right?", the young Elf asked. Blue eyes watched the young Elf intensely. "Mormenar Falathrimon", he whispered, "that was the name I was know by: Dark Fire of the Falathrim".
"Falathrim?", the young Elf wondered, "aren't you Noldor, then?".
Vingilotz smiles. "Have you ever seen a blue eyed, grey haired Noldor?" Without waiting for a reply he continued: "No, I am Falathrim indeed and it was indeed a rare privilige that they let me enter Gondolin a few years before. But they did, to my joy..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What happened to Mormenar?" the young Elf asked, looking at the sword dangling at Vingilotz' hip. "It must be a mighty sword and a powerful tool in battle."Vingilotz sighed. "Mormenar is no more......" He silences, a painful glimpse in his eyes. "But let us talk of merrier things, shall we?"
"So... that is not... Mormenar?" the young Elf asks, pointing at the sword. "Nay, Crururist is its name, a powerful sword... but it does not match the Dark Power of Mormenar", Vingilotz replies. "Did you.... did you use it for a long time, that blade?", the youngster carefully asks.
Vingilotz sighs and raises his hands. After a moment of silence, there is a reply: "Aye, a long time. Many Yrch, Wargs and foul Beasts were slain with it... for almost 5,000 years it was at my side. Deadly... slicing... Darkness... Blood." He stares at the fire for some time after these words.
"It is buried now. I exchanged Darkness for Glory". Vingilotz unstraps his mallorn staff from his back. "This is Aglarnaur. As deadly.... but the darkness has passed its doors... and my doors."
Vingilotz takes a sip from his cup and lays back, trying to relax.
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