Author: Aussie Lass

Email: aussielassie@gmail.com

Beta: Flightless Pegasus

Word Count: 371

Rating: G

Characters: Ecthelion, Maeglin, Glorfindel

Summary: Ecthelion and Maeglin have a disagreement.

Original Request: Characters: Maeglin, Thranduil, Maedhros : Pairings:  Maeglin/any, Thranduil/any, Maedhros/Fingon : Other Characters: Thranduil : Favorite Color: black : Nouns: love hate tears : Not Nouns: eat drink die : Places: Gondolin, Eryn Lasgalen, Imladris

“All a matter of perspective.  What you call conspiracy, I call survival.”

“You deceived King Turgon and disclosed our location to the enemy,” corrected Ecthelion calmly.  “I call you traitor for that.”

“Traitor?  No, no… would a traitor have returned to his city?  If I were a traitor, I would have stayed with the enemy!  Obviously I returned and worked out a plan to bolster our defenses.  If I had let others know of what transpired, all chaos would have broken loose!”  Maeglin floated alongside ex-captain of Gondolin, who was one of the few who listened to him at all in this dark calm.  Once he arrived, King Turgon made it quite clear to the other residents of the Halls who was at fault for the destruction of his city.  It had been difficult to make or keep friends since then.

Oddly enough, his uncle and his father had become good friends, often playing a game of ‘guess how that one died’, a morbid sort of entertainment that passed the time as good as any game. 

Not even Ecthelion would play the game with Maeglin.

If Ecthelion was capable of breathing, he would have sighed.  “Explain Princess Idril, then.  How was it that she was being dragged off by you as if some spoil of war, while you cared not of her son’s life or death?”

“A total misunderstanding.”

“Then explain it.”

“I care not to at this time.  You bore me.  You may go now.”  Maeglin waved his hand as if dismissing a servant.

Ecthelion now gave chase to Maeglin.  “See here!  I will go as and when I wish to go, and—“

“Thelion, there is no reason to argue.”  Glorfindel seemed to have suddenly appeared.  Almost everyone in the hall appeared more as a ghost should appear – white robes, flowing garments – not Glorfindel.  He was still girded in his brightly shining armor, though it was dented and damaged just as it was the day he died.  Despite his outward appearance, he was more philosopher and less warrior within these halls.  “Come with me; there are new arrivals, and I need someone to play the guessing game with.”

That left Maeglin alone, but sometimes, he preferred it that way.