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The next time that Gildor set foot in the city of Gondolin, he was neither king nor was his presence welcomed in the same way it had been before. He came alone, on a horse who was half-starved, in the middle of the day. It was a message of great urgency, and one he took straight to his cousin without revealing the contents to anyone.

There had been a committee meeting in progress with only a handful of the full council present, but Turgon allowed the interruption and sat stoically upon his throne as Gildor relayed the news. It was a call to arms, anticipated yet not hoped for. Those there were dismissed immediately and asked not to share the news until the king deemed it necessary, but some left and refused to heed him.

News traveled from the bottom of the tower up, and from the tower across the city in all directions. Meleth heard it from one of the ellyth whose child she nursed; in turn, Meleth ran to the forge to tell her husband. Rog told Salgant on his way to the tower, and continued on to let his daughter and those who lived with her know. He was informed of the same sort of news as he hurried up the stairs to the upper part of the tower, and at the top of each flight the story was changed in some way until even he was not entirely clear of what the reality of it was.

So it was that Glorfindel went to the door, where Rog stood pounding his fist upon it. “Oh, good day,” he said as he opened the door, but Rog’s expression clearly showed that it was not a good day at all.

Hastily, Rog shut the door and pushed Glorfindel into the center of the sitting room. “We have a problem. There are—“ Before he had a chance to explain, Erestor burst into the apartment. He was panting and looked as if he had fought his way up to the suite. Both Aranel and Tauniel had emerged from their bedroom looking quite concerned.

“We have been summoned to war,” announced Erestor very calmly as he entered. He deposited the case that contained his violin with Aranel. “It seems that Gildor only just arrived with the message an hour ago.”

“The news is spreading like wildfire. Turgon has not been able to control the rumors. I have heard everything from Fingon being dead to Morgoth being defeated. We need to get to the council chambers now.” Rog looked up as the bells at the top of the tower began to ring. “Nevermind. It sounds as if Turgon wants us on the balcony instead. He must plan to address everyone at once.”

“A wise decision,” remarked Erestor as he picked up his quiver.

Glorfindel looked confused. “What do you need that for?”

“Crowd control. Not knowing what will be said, I think we need to be prepared. Make sure you bring your sword.” Erestor was fastening his scabbard to his belt as Glorfindel opened the closet to look for his own.

“Quickly, we need to leave now. Our king needs us.” Rog hustled a weaponless Glorfindel out of the apartment. “Here, carry this, and from now on, make sure you have your sword at the ready,” he said, handing a dagger to him.

Erestor was already a few paces ahead, and the distance widened. All around, others were coming out of their apartments or from workrooms to see why they were being summoned, or to share the knowledge they thought they had. The hallways became crowded, and Glorfindel and Rog lost sight of Erestor until they emerged out onto the balcony that overlooked the mass of people gathering below.

“My brother, King Fingon, and Lord Maedhros, leader of the Feanorians, have requested our aid in the upcoming battle against Morgoth.” Turgon waited until his words had a chance to sink in and spoke again. “It is a dangerous journey, and one that will end in the deaths of many. I will make no request to any of you to follow me, but I would be honored by your loyalty if you did.”

A murmur went through the crowd; no doubt everyone had the same thought on their mind. The king intended to leave Gondolin, to go to the aid of his brother. The question of who would go with him weighed on them all.

“Our king is, at times, too proud. It is this pride that prevents him from asking for your help.” It was Erestor who was speaking now, and Glorfindel wished he was closer so that he might cover his mouth and hush his friend. Now was not the time for Erestor’s political agenda, whatever it might be at the moment. But before Glorfindel could attempt to inch toward the Noldo, Erestor spoke again. “His concern has always been for you. For all of you. You are his people; his family. He wishes to protect you and keep you safe. It is for that reason he would go alone to this war. Many of you know, in your hearts, that you cannot let him go on his own. Think of all he has done for you. Think of all he has sacrificed, for you. And for you. And you.”

Erestor addressed the crowd with such sincerity, that is was difficult for Glorfindel to know whether or not he was acting. “Consider: Where would you be without him? Where would your families be; your sons and daughters, your husbands and wives. We live in peace because of the sacrifice of others. If we do not go to their aid, we will soon forfeit everything we hold dear. It is upon the other realms that Morgoth places his wrath, though he would gladly be here if only he knew where this place was.

“I will stand beside our king in battle whether it is to face our doom or our glory. I hope that the rest of you will stand beside us and come with us to aid his brother. Remember: Turgon is your king, but Fingon is your king as well. Long live Gondolin! Long live the sons of Fingolfin; long live our kings!”

There was an eruption from the audience of like emotion, with some of them hurrying to their homes to prepare for war and others cheering and offering up shouts to the king of gratitude and praise. Turgon looked upon Erestor in wonder and then turned to address the people once again.

“If you intend to stand beside me in battle, come to my hall beginning this afternoon to sign up for that honor. For those who intend to stay here, I shall think no less of you. We will need some to stay in Gondolin to protect our fair city, for once we leave, we may be spotted, and when we return we surely shall be.”

“I, and all the soldiers of my house will fight at your side,” announced Rog’s booming voice. The soldiers of his house who were assembled gave three cheers of huzzah, raising their fists in the air. Faelion was among them, weaving through the crowd to find and give direction to those of his platoon.

Salgant stepped forward then and announced, “The soldiers of my house will be honored to stay here and guard the six gates from enemies who might try to penetrate our fortress.”

“As I expected,” mumbled Egalmoth from behind Glorfindel.

Ecthelion had stepped forward to pledge his forces to Turgon’s cause, but Glorfindel missed the announcement, for Erestor had sneaked around and was pinching his shoulder. “What?”

“Turgon will need cavalry. You are the only one who can provide that,” whispered Erestor.

“It is the decision of the individuals whether or not to go to war,” hissed Glorfindel back. “I will not make that choice for my soldiers.”

“Then you should not be a captain,” shot Erestor back.

The two stared at one another while Duilin, Egalmoth, and Penlodh made their vows of fealty to the king. “If you do not, you will ruin what I just accomplished, Glorfindel. Yes, it helps that everyone is coming forth to offer aid, but you are the one who will bring the reassurance to the people.”

“Why me?”

“You are the youngest, the most idealistic. Newly married, with hopes and dreams for your future that these other lords have in their own lives seen fulfilled. You need to be the one to guide your peers, Glorfindel, for no one else will. They will not listen to me, nor will they listen to a group of kinslayers or old ellyn, but they will listen to you.”

The last few words that Erestor spoke were softer than the others as the noise began to die out from the crowd and from the balcony. Glorfindel took a deep breath and pushed his way past Salgant to stand at the railing. For a moment, he looked down over the crowd. Among them, he could see the sparse members of his house, and faces of friends and acquaintances. The more he looked, the more he recognized them. The thought of just how connected he was to the city suddenly struck him. There were so many people here that he knew, and so many who knew him. They were scared, and hopeful, and nervous, but they were strong, and they were proud, and they would stand beside him if he asked.

“My friends,” he began, speaking clearly but not shouting like the others had. “I ask you... no, I implore you to come with me, to join me on this journey, to aid King Turgon and his brother. I...” He looked out over them again, and shook his head. “I cannot speak to you like this.” Rushing past the other elf lords, he unlocked the gate on the side of the balcony and kicked the rope ladder down off the side. Within seconds he had climbed down and was standing on the ground before the people who were still in the courtyard. “I will not demand that you follow me; I will not pledge your loyalty. That is something you must decide. But I beg you,” he said, as he lowered himself upon one knee before them, “to consider, this is our time to rise to the challenge set before us. Will you join me? Will you say yes to the request of your king?”

There was a long pause, and Glorfindel feared he had chosen the wrong path. Then, from the crowd, Galdereth came forward. “I will stand with you... I should say, I will ride with you,” he said, offering out his hand to help Glorfindel onto his feet again.

“As will I,” came the voice of Elluil, coming forward from the crowd.

Soon a throng had formed around Glorfindel, and among them the majority of the cavalry, as well as many others who had once been soldiers of his house. He looked up to the balcony until he caught Turgon’s gaze and shouted to him, “You have the horses and horse lords of the House of the Golden Flower, my king, our swords, and our lives if it should come to it.”

Turgon scanned the courtyard, and all the areas he could see from the balcony. “Thank you. Thank you all.” He swallowed hard and walked back into the tower, where Idril was waiting for him. She threw her arms around her father and wept, and he held her as the other elf lords filed back inside.

Erestor leaned on the balcony and looked down at Glorfindel. “Are you coming back up, or shall I come down?” Glorfindel made a motion with his hand, and Erestor used the rope ladder to join him on the ground. “That went well,” he said as soon as the crowd dispersed. “Come; we have planning to do.”

“We need to check the supplies and see what needs to be acquired. I do know we will need to set everyone we can spare to fletching arrows,” said Glorfindel as he and Erestor started to walk down the main road.

“It would not be a bad idea to have some extra rope woven as well. We need to figure out who to leave here to tend to the foals and the mares who are pregnant, and who to bring with us. I know you would say, they should decide, but there are some with certain skills who we should either leave here, or be sure to have with us.” Erestor stopped and frowned, then looked over his shoulder. “We need to make a quick stop before the stables,” he said, walking back in the opposite direction.

“Alright.” Glorfindel followed Erestor as they passed by a blacksmith and a bakery, and paused outside of a small shop with a striped awning and an ornate bell on the door. “Where are we?” he asked as Erestor pulled open the door and walked in. Glorfindel followed, and took in the bench along one side of the wall with six or seven young ellyn sitting in a row. They were all talking excitedly about the upcoming war. There was a mirror along the other wall, and four chairs. One was occupied by another young ellon. An older elf stood behind him with a cape in his hands, which he draped around the younger with a flourish while chatting with him about the weather.

“I hate to pull rank, Oronion, but do you think I could interrupt and get a trim? I need to get down to the stables, but I know you are going to be extremely busy in the next day or so,” said Erestor.

“Erestor! Of course, come over here! It is has been a long time since I saw you last. A trim, is that what you call it?” teased the barber as he good-naturedly chased the youngling off of the chair and back onto the bench. “You let it get much too long,” scolded Oronion. “I had it very nicely cut for you, and you let it grow wild. Sit down and I will tame it for you again.”

Glorfindel took a seat uneasily on the edge of the bench close to the door while Erestor hopped up onto the chair. The cape swung around and settled over Erestor, and the barber started his work, speaking about the war and the weather and other items of less importance as he took out a large comb and sized up the task before him. The comb slid back into his apron, and out emerged a large, shiny pair of scissors. As they began to chew through dark hair and severed the long strands at the base of Erestor’s neck, Glorfindel tensed up and looked away.

“Are you planning to take a lot of horses with you?” asked Oronion after the metallic sound of the blades rubbing together made Glorfindel realize the worst was over. He looked back and watched as the comb came back out, and a smaller pair of scissors. While Erestor and the barber talked, and more and more dark hair fell onto the floor, Glorfindel stood up and wandered to a wall where there was a bookshelf and a few dog-eared volumes. He picked up one, and found they were sketchbooks of various hairstyles of differing lengths, though most were on the short side. He placed the book back in place and pulled out another, finding more of the same.

“All done. Which of you was next?”

As Erestor hopped down from the chair and brushed a few stray hairs from his shoulder, the young soldier who had previously been sitting in the chair said, “I think the captain was next.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot we had two of them in here.”

Something nudged Glorfindel’s shoulder and he looked up from the book to see Erestor regarding him. “You should probably consider having him do something with all of this,” he said, tugging on one of the long golden curls.

“Are you done?” Glorfindel closed the book and put it back onto the shelf.

“It would only take me a moment, m’lord,” offered Oronion as he waited patiently, cape in hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Glorfindel caught sight of the gleam of metal of the scissors. “Long hair is a terrible battle hazard.”

“I have things to tend to.” Instead of waiting to hear the reply, Glorfindel marched himself out of the shop and began to walk back down the road again. Erestor joined him shortly afterwards. “You could have done that later.”

“What was that all about?”

“What?” Glorfindel kept walking, eyes straight ahead.

Erestor continued to walk next to Glorfindel, observing the same silence until they reached the stables. “Which one are you going to ride into battle?” he asked as they strolled past busily scurrying stable hands. He stopped at Dragonsong’s stall and directed one of the young ellyn they had working there to check over his gear and make sure it was sturdy and still fit his mount.

“I think I want to ride one of my own.” Glorfindel looked down the rows of the stable. “I should really choose one of the saddle trained horses, but I am myself uncomfortable in a saddle. It would also mean one less warhorse for someone else to ride.” He walked to Lemon Drop’s stall. “I think Birch is too old to take into battle.”

“Birch is... well, if he was not your horse…”

“I know. He has not sired any in two years and his back legs are going. If he was your horse, he would not still be a financial burden. I fear I am far too attached to all of them.” Glorfindel held his breath until his emotion passed. “I wonder how many will make it back home.”

Erestor nodded, thinking the same thing as he watched the young soldiers and stable hands passing by. “I am going to take the roster to Turgon, detailing the numbers of our forces. Actually, you are going to be the one commanding them,” realized Erestor. “I will be with Rog’s infantry.”

“Oh.” Glorfindel gave Lemon Drop one last pat on the nose. “Will you be able to ride your horse?”

“Of course. I have to be on horseback, as a high ranking officer. But you are going to have to refrain from giving me any suggestions that would appear to be orders, and vice versa. It would be confusing,” said Erestor.

Glorfindel crossed his arms over his chest. “I am well aware of the proper rules of engagement and I am most certainly not going to interfere with Rog’s soldiers. If you thought I forgot you are one of them, no, I am well aware of it. Remember, I was the soldier first.” He left Erestor standing there and went to the small office to retrieve the rosters.

Erestor appeared in the doorway just as Glorfindel had gathered the materials he was looking for. “What is your problem?” demanded Erestor as Glorfindel pushed past him. He followed him out of the stables and back down the path toward the tower. “I hardly appreciate being treated like this.”

“No one said you had to follow me.”

Despite this bit of information, Erestor did follow Glorfindel back to Turgon’s council room, which had now been converted into a war room. “Sire, the roll for the cavalry.”

Turgon wearily took hold of the papers he was handed. “Thank you. Oh, Glorfindel... I have something for you as well...” Turgon shifted through the numerous documents that were spread across the large table at the center of the room. “Here we are.” He handed him an envelope. “And thank you, both of you, for your support this afternoon.” He placed a hand on the shoulder of each of them. “I appreciate it, and it means a great deal to me.”

Each of them nodded, and Erestor said, “We are behind you one hundred percent, sire.”

Turgon squeezed Erestor’s shoulder and nodded, and then excused himself to tend to business brought to him by Enerdhil. Nearby, Gildor was standing, watching over the entire scene. Erestor ignored the Sinda completely, but Glorfindel offered a slight smile that was returned with a curious raise of Gildor’s brow and a weary smile of his own.

Once they were outside again, Glorfindel slit the envelope open and brought out the two sheets that were inside. One was an official proclamation of the war, complete with the King’s seal. Within the document, it was stated that Idril would be left in Turgon’s stead to rule over Gondolin, and in the case of his fall, her firstborn male heir would take over the rulership of the city. “Well, that is a surprise indeed,” mumbled Glorfindel.

“That it is. I rather expected him to put Maeglin in charge.”

Glorfindel folded the sheet over on itself, glaring up at Erestor. He had forgotten that the elf still walking in step beside him was taller and could therefore easily read over his shoulder whatever was on the page. “Was it addressed to you?”

“No, but I suspected you would have told me what it said anyhow,” replied Erestor, sounding slightly hurt.

Letting the page go back to where it had been, Glorfindel did not stop Erestor from reading further if he wished, though the older elf stepped aside so that he was not walking so closely. The rest of the paper went on to state that Salgant would replace Ecthelion as first captain within Gondolin until the soldiers returned, with Enerdhil and his army as the backup force. “Not sure if I like that.” When Erestor did not reply, he added, “Ecthelion is still his chief captain in battle, but Turgon is putting Salgant in charge of the military here until we return.”

“Ah. Well, someone has to do it.”

Glorfindel did not answer as he traded the first sheet for the second, and stopped dead in his tracks. “This has to be a mistake.” He turned around and started to walk back to the tower, but Erestor stopped him. “Erestor, get out of my way, I need to speak to the king.”

“I will let you, but tell me first what it is you think is in error.” Erestor tried to tug the sheet away, but in the end had to settle for Glorfindel holding it up to him. “That... well, it has your name on it.”

“It has my name, yet it must be wrong.”

“It has your name, and your house. I think it is meant for you.”

Once more, Glorfindel read the sheet, out loud this time. “By order of King Turgon, henceforth Captain Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, is proclaimed Second Captain of all Gondolin and her armies, unless his title be stricken by his death or by the king himself. Proclaimed, this day in Gondolin...” Glorfindel shook his head. “Why did he choose me?”

“Again, if you cannot answer these questions, perhaps you should not be in the position you are in.” When Erestor received another glare and was walked away from, he said quietly so that Glorfindel did not hear, “Perhaps it is because you cannot answer such questions that you are the answer to them.”
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