grundyscribbling

Title: Ecthelion
Author: Grundy
Rating: FR13
Crossover: LotR/Silmarillion
Summary: Dream a little dream...
Word Count: 1010

Anariel wondered idly how Morgoth’s little curse decided what order to go in.

Her initial theory in Lórien had been that it went in chronological order, and maybe it did when there was a clear gap in people’s ages. But when everyone was closer together, that theory didn’t always hold up.

This wasn’t the first time she’d had a slew of dreams to cope with, but it was the first set of Gondolin dreams. She’d expected to see Idril or Tuor first, on the logic they were most closely related, but to her surprise Ecthelion was the opening act.

She actually saw very little of him in Aman. Apparently he hadn’t been on Morgoth’s radar at that point. Only when he made the decision to join his cousins and follow the Noldor across the Ice did things really pick up.

He – and thus Anariel – was currently in Mithrim, having survived the Ice and decided to follow Turgon, mostly because a cousin he was close to did the same. If nothing else, she was getting an interesting look in how the lords of Gondolin had been chosen. Not all of them had been counted noble in Aman, or even come from Aman.

Bright side, there wouldn’t be much to see once Ecthelion relocated from Mithrim to Turgon’s hidden valley. Ulmo’s protection had held there until the very end, and Ecthelion had been one of the first to enter the valley. He only left it twice before his death – once on the failed attempt to make Aunt Trouble go somewhere she didn’t want to be, and once for the Nirnaeth.

Neither outing promised to be much fun.

And, of course, there was the end to look forward to. She already had a fair idea of how that went. This would really be just filling in the details Glorfindel either hadn’t known or didn’t want to dwell on.

She did appreciate seeing just how far from Tumladen Ulmo’s protection had kicked in – once Turgon’s people reached Sirion, Morgoth was no longer able to follow them. She smirked in the general direction of Angband before the smashcut that took her to Nan Dungortheb.

She amused herself on that jaunt by ranging as far from Aunt Trouble and her escort as she could. After all, she’d already seen this once. Everyone had survived, and the ride had been downright uneventful. (Considering all the fuss everyone had made both at the time and retroactively, she’d expected something far more dramatic than just a valley that looked like it had never recovered from a bad forest fire.) She lucked out and found herself a nest of spiders. She had a gleeful time slaughtering them, and the orcs who came to see what the commotion was. No harm, no foul…

The Nirnaeth was as much unfun as ever, to the point that it was starting to chap her hide that she couldn’t really help out. All this had already happened. It did at least make it clear why Uncle Hurin’s stand had been so vital. (Shame Ecthelion been too far away from him for her to join in on the chorus.)

There was another gap after the retreat, but then Gondolin had suddenly faded in – she realized with a jolt that this must be after Maeglin had been taken.

The Slayer was rather punchy at the notion of knowing evil was coming but not doing anything about it, not that Anariel was overly pleased about it herself. She was fairly sure Morgoth had actually intended the dreams to destroy her quickly, in Lórien, but he couldn’t have hit on a better way to wind up the Slayer had he known about it.

She did her best to distract herself by focusing on the small details – what small details there were. It was almost like an old television when the reception had been bad and the picture was cutting in and out. (Unfortunately, there was no adjusting the rabbit ears or banging the box. Just as well she hadn’t had Slayer strength when she was little, they’d have gone through quite a few TVs.) She supposed it was more about what Morgoth considered important, and Ecthelion, lord though he was, apparently wasn’t except for his connection to Turgon and Glorfindel.

(That connection, though. Great googly moogly, how had Glorfindel gotten away with haring off back to Middle Earth? How had they not gotten engaged before her parents even met? Yes, ok, the Noldor had odd views and took them with them to Beleriand, but surely after Mandos they’d both said ‘sod that’? It wasn’t as if the Noldorin etiquette had worked out well even in the Years of the Trees!)

The end was every bit as nasty as she’d expected. After all, it was basically an unaverted apocalypse. Taking out the odd orc here or there wasn’t nearly enough to quiet the Slayer’s howls of protest.

There were more than enough balrogs to go around. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t have the hang of it now…

She did pay attention for Ecthelion’s big moment. (She might not be able to help, but she chucked a handy bit of debris at Gothmog anyway. Just because she could. Maybe it didn’t help, but it made a very satisfying thud when it hit the side of his head.) She very much appreciated Ecthelion’s attitude – he might be going down, but he’d take Gothmog with him.

But the final horror was realizing that poor Ecthelion might have lived had anyone been around to pull him out of his fountain. She’d already done this enough times to know that the dreams cut out instantly at the moment of death, so when the seconds ticked on after Gothmog’s flame winked out, she felt sick to her stomach. How long did it take to drown? Longer for elves than for Men – or maybe it just felt that way.

When it finally faded to black, she sighed.

One down, several thousand to go. At least she only had to see it four more times tonight.