Too nervous to eat lunch the next day, Glorfindel paced the sitting room until he could not stand to wait any longer. He bundled up one of the pieces of the armor – the piece that fit over the right arm – and then headed up to the king’s penthouse. Carynien smiled to him as he entered through the doors and approached the desk.
“You are a little early. The king has yet to return from lunch.”
“I know. I thought I would wait,” he said, nervously shifting about. Carynien motioned to the chairs in the waiting area, but Glorfindel shook his head. “Too jittery to sit.” He was sweating, too, but it was debatable whether it was from nerves or the heat wave that was causing the stuffy tower to be nearly unbearable.
“You probably should anyhow. Being fidgety in a chair is less obvious than bouncing up and down having a spasm in front of my desk.”
“Really? Alright.” Glorfindel wound his arms around the wrapped up piece of armor, but before he had the chance to sit down, the doors opened and Turgon casually entered.
The king was almost so distracted by whatever document he was reading that it took Carynien clearing her throat after he passed Glorfindel to make Turgon turn around. “Sire, you have a meeting this afternoon before your cabinet arrives.”
“Oh?” Turgon lowered the document and glanced first at Glorfindel, and then to the wrapped item he held. “Can we perhaps discuss whatever this is later?”
“Your next free appointment is a week from now, and I already rescheduled him,” said Carynien, winking past Turgon to Glorfindel. She picked up a small hand fan from the side of the desk and began to wave it in towards her face. “If you want to put this off, though—“
“No, no.” Turgon sunk down in the seat next to the one Glorfindel was in. “You have five minutes. What is all this about?”
“Well, uhm...” Glorfindel fumbled to unwrap the piece of armor, which he held out to Turgon. “We had this idea... well, you see... do you know the land by the stream by the stables I have?”
“Yes,” answered Turgon carefully, his attention turning to the armor that he was now holding. “You mean the land that I own, next to the land I sold Erestor some years ago.”
“Right... well... you see, I have this idea,” said Glorfindel, stumbling terribly through his speech. “I want to build a series of stables and barracks, and I have plans to train cavalry. Really great cavalry. Mostly, I want to recruit from the valley and do a lot of horse breeding, and I need a lot of space for that.”
“Indeed, you would. I suspect you are lacking the total space you need to see your plan through.”
“Exactly. I was hoping that perhaps... well, I had this other idea, which you can see here.” Glorfindel leaned over and began to point out the features of his design. “This new armor is more mobile, more flexible, and lighter than most. It would be a great advantage to you to have your soldiers clad in this armor.”
“It is a very unique idea. How protective is it?”
“Very,” answered Glorfindel excitedly. “Erestor and I tested it yesterday.”
“You tested it yesterday?”
“Uh... yes.” Glorfindel squirmed a little as Turgon further scrutinized the armor.
The king fit the armor onto his own arm, bending and flexing his muscles to see for himself. “Am I correct in assuming that you want to trade this marvel you have constructed for the land I have along the banks near the forest.”
“There is more to it than just that piece. I have an entire suit made, and your guards would be the first to wear such armor.”
Turgon nodded thoughtfully before finally locking eyes with Glorfindel. For a moment, Glorfindel thought he had succeeded, but the longer he had to hold steady to Turgon’s hard gaze, the more he worried. “You want me to offer my support and thanks and grant you the land you desire in exchange for an idea.”
“I—“
“Did Erestor put you up to this?”
“No... I... this was our idea, not his alone.”
The armor was handed back, and Glorfindel looked down at it in a panic as Turgon stood up. The king towered over him, looking down upon him as Glorfindel sat in the chair, clutching the cold metal. “So your idea was to bribe me into letting you have the land. What will you do if I say no? Will you hold back your plans from me?”
“Well... I...” Glorfindel knew the answer. He could not deny something he knew would save the lives of so many.
And Turgon, it seemed, was able to read Glorfindel like a book. “What about the rest of Gondolin? Do you think they should continue to use inferior armor while your house and mine reep the benefits for your new design?”
“No... I mean...”
“Good. Then you will share these plans with everyone at the next assembly of the council. Good work, Glorfindel.” Turgon stepped over to Carynien’s desk as Glorfindel gave the armor a disheartened look before bundling it up again. As he was leaving, he overheard Turgon say to his secretary, “I need you to clear my calendar for tomorrow. My nephew and I are going to be touring the land I have out near the forest. He asked me yesterday at dinner if he could use it to build a forge, and if we are going to be remaking all of our armor, we are going to need more forges.”
Glorfindel’s feet took him far away from the tower, down to the land he did have. He spent the rest of the afternoon in his office, angrily sketching plans for building barracks on top of stables as Erestor had suggested. As the day went on, his anger ebbed away and his plans began to take better shape. A stable hand alerted him of the coming evening, and the growl from his stomach reminded him he had not eaten anything yet. He locked the papers in his desk before setting out for home.
---
When Erestor arrived home at dusk, he was surprised to see Celebrimbor waiting outside the door. “Good evening. Did no one offer to let you in?” he said by way of apology as he unlocked the door.
“Good evening, Captain Erestor. I knocked only a minute ago. I thought to try again and then seek Lord Glorfindel in one of the dining halls.”
Celebrimbor followed Erestor into the sitting room, where Erestor lit a few candles and found a note on the table. “It seems as if my wife and Glorfindel’s took up a dinner invitation. If Glorfindel already read this, then he may be in the dining hall. However, if I had to guess, I should think he has yet to return. His house shoes are still at the door and he left wearing boots this morning.”
“I see. I hate to be a burden, but I was hoping to speak to him this evening. Do you know if he had a chance to look at the armor yet?”
“Oh, yes, and he is in love with it,” said Erestor. Celebrimbor beamed at the compliment. “I think he will be coming back here before he goes to dinner, in any case. Can I offer you a drink while we wait?”
“If you have wine, I would be thankful. It was a long day today,” said Celebrimbor as he walked toward the settee and chairs that Erestor had motioned to. Something distracted him as he was about to sit down, and he stepped toward the desk instead. “You have a lot of pictures.”
“I like to have pictures of people I care about. It helps to calm me as I am reading and writing things that would otherwise be unpleasant to deal with. There are some of my wife, and some of Glorfindel’s wife. His is the blond one,” Erestor said as he poured out wine for Celebrimbor and something else for himself.
“I know Tauniel. She used to hang about the forge when she was a child. I miss seeing her there.” Celebrimbor gave a low whistle. “Who is that?” he asked as he picked up one of the framed portraits on Erestor’s desk. “She looks nothing like Glorfindel’e wife.”
“Probably because she is not his wife. That is Artanis, daughter of Finarfin. She and I were betrothed in Valinor.” Erestor nodded when Celebrimbor flashed him a look of disbelief. “Yes, I was almost married, long ago. We practically were, actually. Unfortunately, she and I grew apart. It is probably not appropriate for me to even have that anymore, but I could not bring myself to destroy it.”
“She is gorgeous.” Celebrimbor set the portrait back down and took the glass of wine he was offered. “Is she still in Valinor, then?”
Erestor shook his head. “Doriath, last I heard.” He lifted the small frame and looked at the image smiling back at him. “She married a Sindarin elf by the name of Celeborn; she wanted someone who would be more agreeable to her ways and I do hope she found that.” He held the object out to Celebrimbor. “It is not necessary for me to keep this. I see her more than I wish in the recesses of my mind. If you think her beautiful, you should keep this instead. She is a distant relation to you, so it would make much more sense for you to have.”
“Well, I... I do not want to take that which is yours,” said Celebrimbor hesitantly.
Erestor took hold of Celebrimbor’s free hand and placed the framed picture into it. “She was never mine to begin with.”
It was on this part of the conversation that Glorfindel let himself into the room. When he spied Celebrimbor, he adopted a false smile and joined them, pouring a rather large amount of wine into a glass for himself. A quick glance at Erestor told his friend that things had not gone well with the king and that more would be said later. “Celebrimbor, you outdid yourself. I am so very impressed by your work on the armor. I foresee accolades and many orders pouring in very soon.”
Celebrimbor was grinning broadly. “It was an honor to see your project through. However, I came not only to hear your thoughts, but also to speak to you about the weapons.”
“The weapons?”
“Remember the idea that you approached Enerdhil with? The one he said was silly and impractical and could never be done?” asked Celebrimbor.
Glorfindel nodded. “He often tells me how silly and impractical I am, but I think I know which one it is you speak of. It had to do with treating the blades to know if something was approaching, like a warg or a troll or something.”
“Right. I could not quite figure all of it out, but I did use the information you provided for us and came up with this.” Celebrimbor held out a long sword that looked very much like a typical long sword.
Erestor set his drink down on the desk so that he could examine the blade. It not only looked like any other sword, but felt like one as well. He handed it back to Celebrimbor. “What will it do?”
“That is the real trick,” explained Celebrimbor. “It glows in warning when there are orcs about. It was easier to figure out this than the rest, because your initial formula was based off of Elvenkind – a dangerous thing to have developed.”
“I know, but if the enemy is as cunning as we think, there is a good chance Morgoth already knows how to find us,” said Glorfindel.
“If he knew how to find us, he would be here already,” said Erestor quietly.
“True,” responded Glorfindel uncertainly.
“Let us hope he never discovers what you have. I was able to use the information you gave me, and modified it so that it detects orcs but is not thrown off by Elves. Now all we need is a real orc to show you how it works. Fortunately, I know where we can find one.”
“Really?” Glorfindel took the blade from the apprentice. “Can we go to test it now?”
“Right now, if you like,” offered Celebrimbor. “Follow me; they are kept in the dungeons.”
“Is that a wise idea?” wondered Glorfindel as he and Erestor trailed after Celebrimbor. They navigated the hallways into the deepest parts of Gondolin, where the temperature, sadly, did not feel much cooler. “Should we really keep orcs here, even if they are locked up?”
“There is only one,” said Erestor matter-of-factly, to Glorfindel’s surprise.
“What if he gets out?” Glorfindel asked.
“I do not foresee that happening anytime soon,” said Celebrimbor grimly. At the bottom of the last stairwell, there were six posted guards, who allowed the pair past after a quick check of their weapons and an explanation for their being there. “No matter how many times I come through here, they always act as if this is the first time they are seeing me.”
There were small cells with tiny windows in them on either side of the walkway. Most were uninhabited, but there were a few that each had an elf in them. “Watch now,” said Celebrimbor, pulling his sword from his sheath. “Watch the blade as we get closer.”
Glofindel kept his eyes on the metal, and with every step, was delighted to see it glow, first faintly, then more and more, until at last it was bright blue. “Amazing.”
“This is where the orc is kept.” Celebrimbor brought it up against a door of a cell that was marked ‘orc’ on the side. “Look how much more brilliant it becomes. Wait until you see it close to the creature.”
As Glorfindel looked on and marveled, Celebrimbor motioned one of the guards to the door. Keys were produced from a long chain, and the door was opened. An escort of armed guards offered to accompany them into the small cell, but Erestor shook his head and entered first with his own sword drawn instead, and then beckoned Glorfindel and Celebrimbor in behind him.
The odor was putrid, and Glorfindel shielded his eyes from the blue glow. He caught movement and stepped to the side to see what was at the back of the cell, concerned over the fact an orc was actually being held in Gondolin.
The pathetic creature did not look like an orc. It was worse, missing both legs and an arm. There was a thick metal collar fastened around his neck and attached to the wall by a heavy chain. He said nothing, watching them with yellow eyes and breathing through slits where his nose should have been. A few long patches of hair had grown wild, but he was otherwise bald, the greenish skin contrasting the greasy silver strands. “Erestor, is that truly necessary?” asked Glorfindel. The captain was crouched down just behind the wretched creature, holding his blade with his arm drawn back as if he was just waiting for the orc to give him a reason to react.
“You and Celebrimbor do what you have to do; someone has to be at the ready.”
“He hardly seems a threat in the condition he is in,” said Glorfindel. “What is your name?” he asked the orc.
The orc seemed not to comprehend at first, but when Glorfindel shrugged and began to step toward the door, the orc rolled his shoulders and tilted his head, causing the chain to clink against the cold, stone floor. “Before, or after?” came the croaky answer, and Glorfindel turned back around as the orc laughed to himself.
“What do you mean, before or after? Before what?” asked Glorfindel.
“Glorfindel, you should not speak to it,” warned Erestor.
As Celebrimbor handed the glowing blade to Glorfindel, the elf lord frowned. “What is he going to do, Erestor? Chase me down? Shoot me with arrows. He is harmless.” Glorfindel crouched down closer, marveling at the bright glow.
The orc was shielding his eyes with his remaining appendage from the blue light. “If you lower that, I can think clearly and answer you.”
“Sorry.” Glorfindel lowered the sword so that it was down at his side instead of right in front of him. “Is that better?”
“Yes,” hissed the orc, blinking, still displeased with the glow despite it being away from his face for the moment.
“Now, what did you mean about before or after?” Glorfindel pressed him.
“The name I had before this. The one I had before the dark one twisted me and my kin and made us like this. You and your friends forget that our roles could have easily been reversed. It might have been you chained to this wall, and I, still strong and fair standing before you. You all forget that.”
The orc’s words were clearly swaying Glorfindel, but neither Celebrimbor nor Erestor were as convinced. “Glorfindel, we should leave, if you are done here,” suggested Erestor.
“Yes, Glorfindel, we should go. The guards do not like to have anyone interact with this thing.”
Whether Glorfindel actually heard them or was just ignoring them was uncertain as he placed his hand on the dry curve of skin, his fingers brushing against the stump where there was once an arm. “What was your name?”
“Glorfindel, you must leave now,” announced Erestor loudly, as the orc said to the blond, “Closer, friend.”
Glorfindel bowed his head in, his hair sweeping down to block his sight at either side. The orc jerked forward suddenly and bit down hard on his nose. As Glorfindel let out a scream of surprise and grabbed for his face, he let go of the blade. The orc had it in his hand in a second, and drew it back, meaning to drive it straight into Glorfindel’s breast.
The next thing Glorfindel saw as he opened his eyes, besides his hands cupped over his nose and the blood smeared over his fingers, was the tip of a sword. It was not the blade he had dropped, however, it was the sword that Erestor had brought with him. The captain had thrust his sword into the orc, straight through the spine and out the other side so that it was protruding from the orc’s throat. Erestor used his foot to kick the glowing blade from the orc’s hand, and then as the orc gagged on his own blood, Erestor put his foot on the orc’s shoulder and twisted the blade full around with a grunt before yanking it back out. He spat on the ground as the orc fell to the side, choking for a few moments more before the glossy yellow eyes rolled back and his single arm became limp.
Meanwhile, Glorfindel had managed to stand up and was shaking, hands still covering his nose. “That was so stupid... why did I do that? I should have known better,” he babbled as the sound of guards coming down the hallway echoed through the chambers.
Erestor looked up at Celebrimbor. “Let me do the talking,” he said as he gripped the chain that held the orc to the wall. Celebrimbor nodded as Erestor surveyed the links, and choosing the weakest one, slid his weapon between the two ends of it, widening the gap. With seconds left before the room was flooded with soldiers, he set his sword down and strained to pull the link apart enough to separate part of the chain away from the wall, then dropped the link and picked up his sword. He had only just stood up as the soldiers entered.
“What happened here?” demanded the chief guard. The scene spoke for itself, and he shook his head. “The king will not like this.”
“The king should have inspected this cell better, then,” replied Erestor. He kicked at the broken chain. “He might look weak, but this... thing... is stronger than you might think. He broke his bonds and attacked Lord Glorfindel. Has anyone called for a healer?”
It was now that the guards took note of Glorfindel, and concern for his well-being allowed for Celebrimbor to retrieve the sword with the blade whose glow was fast diminishing. “Someone should dispose of this as well,” demanded Erestor authoritatively. “It stinks already; just wait until they have been dead for a few hours.”
A rush of things began to happen, and Glorfindel was ushered up a few flights where the bite on his nose was cleaned and bandaged. As the final bits of linen were being applied, Glorfindel saw Erestor appear in the doorway and lean against it with a sigh. The healer finished and left after making Glorfindel promise to see him in the morning. Erestor waited until the healer left before entering the room. “Turgon took the news much better than the guards seemed to think he would. I got the feeling he felt better with that thing dead than he did when it was alive.”
“Why did he have an orc down there in the first place?”
“Maeglin was the one who brought it in. When it first arrived, it was only missing the one arm, and there were three of them.”
“Should I even ask what happened to his legs, or the other two orcs?” wondered Glorfindel, touching the tip of his bandaged nose tenderly.
“The other two attacked him one day and ate his legs. So, Maeglin killed the other two, and kept the one that was down there.” Erestor sat down on the healer’s stool next to a small counter and started to rearrange the jars of herbs lined on the shelf, placing them in alphabetical order.
“Thank you,” said Glorfindel suddenly. “Not only did you save my life, but you saved me from being the laughingstock of the city with my attempt at befriending an orc.”
Erestor stopped playing with the bottles and jars and moved the remaining ones back in one long row before standing up. He walked to the low table that Glorfindel was still sitting on and kissed the top of his head. “No, thank you,” he said as he turned to head out the door.
“For what?” wondered Glorfindel.
Erestor looked over his shoulder and replied, “For staying optimistic enough to try to befriend an orc. You are never going to realize how rare you are, my friend.”
