Idril Celebrindal “Greetings, fellow bards and people of all races. I am Arminas of Lindon, a Bard in these great halls, and I come before you with a tale such as has not been heard in these lands for many ages. Part of it has been told before, by those whose lands were sundered from ours in the great storm. But now I come with tidings that none have heard before, except she who dwells with us now. She has not spoken of these things, and I would not have the courage to lay these parchments at her feet were it not that I was bid to do so by him who wrote the history of our people. So it is that I stand here now, and tell the first part of the tale from memory, for all of us who know the ancient scrolls can do so without pause. As all of you have seen, our Aralirdan is Idril Celebrindal, daughter of Turgon the Wise, the son of Fingolfin, and of Elenwë his wife. When still the Trees of Gold and Silver blended their lights beyond the seas, where Elves delighted at the sight of high Taniquetil, there was the golden child of that fair union born, and long did her family rejoice. Her hair was touched by Laurelin’s fair fruit, and the heights of Varda’s domain were reflected in her sparkling blue eyes. Itarillë did they name her, sparkling brilliance, yet her mother saw in her the seedlings of her wisdom, so that her mother-name was Palantirnë. She grew in the Eldar’s long years to youth and beauty, while all around the lies of Morgoth found their mark within the heart of Fëanor and the Noldor grew to great unrest. And when kin turned against kin and Doom was spoken on the Noldor, she crossed the Helcaraxë with Turgon and his folk, and survived when Elenwë did not. Who can tell the grief of father and daughter when out of the icy wastes they bore the body of their beloved wife and mother? But also who can tell their wonder when they looked up, and saw the Sun dawn bright upon Beleriand? Dor-lómin Turgon passed, and did not linger there, but travelled south until he reached the shores of Nevrast - and there he made his abode with Idril and his folk. But not for long did Ulmo let them rest before he gave a dream to Turgon and his brother, and sent them searching for their hidden realms that longest stood against the might of Bauglir. Thus Idril went with Turgon unto Gondolin, and there she tarried with her people while the city grew the fairest of all realms East of Tol Eressëa. Her laughter and her brilliant gaze enchanted all who saw her, and as she walked the marbled streets of Gondolin bare-footed her feet twinkled from beneath her skirts. And so in merriment and light-hearted ease, Celebrindal was she named. Many were the years of mirth and feasting that passed in bliss under the wise and just rule of Turgon. Then Turgon’s sister Aredhel, the Lady White, returned from exile long in darker lands and brought with her her son, Maeglin of the sharp glance. His father Eöl, none too pleased, pursued her and came at last to stand before the King of Gondolin, and in his spite and anger made to kill Maeglin. But Aredhel took upon herself the lance meant for her son, and Turgon then avenged himself upon his sister’s murderer. And so it came to pass that Maeglin dwelt in Gondolin, in the favour of the King, but soon his heart began to yearn after fair Idril. But she, wise in the ways of Elves and far-seeing, did not return his love, mistrusting him. But for her father’s sake and for Aredhel’s, she spoke him fair and treated him as kin. When Ulmo sent his messenger to Gondolin, Elven in manners and yet mortal Child of Eru, the sight of him awoke her heart and truly did she give her love to him. Her father blessed their union, and joy renewed came to her with the marriage to Huor’s son. But Maeglin in his jealousy of Tuor bade Turgon heed not the warnings of the Valar, and himself ignored the age-long ban and travelled much too far beyond the confines of Echoriath. Deeming himself above the dangers of the spies of Morgoth that ever searched the lands for his enemy, there he was found and taken by the orcs of Angband to stand before the very might of Melkor. And yet might Gondolin have been saved, but that the Liar promised Maeglin all the spoils and in his greed and jealousy the traitor told him all. But Idril’s heart had warned her, and she had bade her father listen to the words of Tuor. And when he would not, marred by pride and arrogance, she looked to the salvation of her people. With Tuor’s help she caused a tunnel to be dug, deep underground towards the mountains, so those within could flee unseen should the worst come upon them. As she had foreseen, disaster struck. Upon the Festival of the Gates of Summer, when all the city was alight with feasting and gatherings, they saw the glow of fire from the North and Idril knew the time of woe had come. But yet, Turgon did laugh at the invaders. The armies of Gondolin, undefeated in the field of battle, readied to repel the onslaught, secure in the great might of their city’s defenses. Then Idril went back to her house upon the city’s Northern walls, and girt herself with mail and sword, and her son also she dressed in hidden armour. And while her husband did defend the gates and streets she stayed behind, awaiting the hour of strife she knew would come, guarding Eärendil against murderous Eöl’s son. Abandoning their kin, Maeglin and his folk of the Sable Mole made straight for Tuor’s house, intent on reaping the reward promised by the Cursed One. Easy it seemed to Maeglin, to take his prize and kill the heir of Turgon, but Idril knew his mind and thwarted him as best she could. With sword and loyal servants she stood long against his fury, but he was mightier. She struggled with Maeglin, fierce and strong, protecting her child against all harm, yet in the end he overpowered her and wrest her sword away. Then he bade his men lay hold of her and himself took Eärendil up, gloating over his victory. He mocked her, took her by the hair and dragged her forth unto the walls, taking Eärendil with him to where the precipice was highest. She pleaded, begged him not to kill her son, but he laughed at her and held the boy aloft, ready to throw him over the edge. Yet Eärendil, who was of no mind to leave his mother, bit deep into his captor’s hand and Maeglin cried aloud and dropped the boy. But he did not escape for long. In his fury Maeglin drew his dagger and fell on him, while Idril cried in anguish and fought to free herself and aid her child. The hidden coat of mail turned Maeglin’s blow aside, but dire would have been Eärendil’s fate had not his father, warned by friends to come to Idril’s aid, rushed to the walls and fought against his foe. Tuor and Maeglin battled, locked together in a desperate struggle while Idril, freed by those of Tuor’s household, caught Eärendil in her arms and held him close. They watched in dread as Tuor and Maeglin swayed back and forth, each spurred by hatred of the other, until the Man proved stronger and threw Maeglin to the rocks below. But Idril’s joy was far too brief, for even as she embraced her husband and her son the hordes of Morgoth overran the city. Tuor made haste back to the battle, but all was soon to be lost. From her house upon the city walls Idril saw the Tower of Turgon crumble, and knew the prideful King’s fate was sealed. The day’s long fighting sapped her strength and in despair she thought that she had lost not only her father but her husband too… Yet Tuor was not dead, and when he knew the city was fallen he led those that remained back to his house, and found Idril there weeping and distraught. He brought her back to reason and to hope, and through the deep-delved tunnel they escaped to the Encircling Mountains with Eärendil and with those saved from the great defeat. And there on mountain pass in dreadful battle they suffered yet more grief, as their escape was cut off by the Balrog and in his bravery the Flower of Gondolin fell into the abyss and bought their passage with his life. They buried him, and grieved, and passed away, for long and desolate was their journey and only thanks to Tuor and his Lady’s strength did they survive. At last, after many months of toil and sorrow, they reached the shelter of the Bay of Belfalas and wandered once again upon the shores of Beleager. And there Eärendil grew to his full stature and to wisdom, and there his love of sailing was conceived. For Tuor and Idril tarried in the harbours, but e’er their son did wander on the Sea and search for distant realms and lands. And when their kin from Doriath fled the ravages of War, and Elwing brought the Silmaril to Belfalas, Idril was glad to see her son did find his heart’s desire and blessed their union there upon the shores. When some months had passed, and Tuor and Idril dwelt yet in the White House upon the Bay, glad tidings came to them from southern lands. For Elured and Elurin, so cruelly pursued by Fëanor’s sons, had yet survived and had been found. Through forest hunted far and wide they chanced upon an elf, herself from the Sea’s shores, who helped them hide from their tormentors. Then when the hunters wandered further onwards, she led them south and hence through Doriath, ‘cross the Ramdal and down into the Taur-im-Duinath. And once she knew that they were not pursued, she guided them along the shores towards the north to where she knew their kin had made their home. There she met the Princess of the house of Turgon, and thus began the great and longlived friendship of Faele the Wanderer and Idril of Gondolin there by the sea shore. Long years did pass, and often they would sit upon the sands and watch the far horizon, telling of their journeys past, of friends and long-lost joys. And as their frienship grew so did their understanding, until together they would sit, and talk of many things, but not a word did pass their lips save laughter or perhaps an exclamation as seagulls soared and swans wheeled overhead. But all too soon the call of Ulmo came once again deep into Tuor’s heart, and while Eärendil travelled on the Eastern shores his parents took the great ship Eärrámë and sailed away, without farewell. Only in Faele did the Lady confide, and as she sailed away they spoke of their great friendship that would endure beyond the confines both of land and time. To Tuor then was given leave to dwell in Valinor, and there to heal the wounds of loss and live with his beloved by his side. And with that voyage, all our ancient tales do end. But hearken to me now, for I have heard the tale of what came after, and it was told to me by they who still dwell in Kortirion. Yet give me leave to sit, for I am weary…” He sat down heavily, as though for days since seeing the vision he had not slept or eaten. Four parchments he unrolled, each penned both front and back with hasty yet unblotted script, and then he took the first and began to read from it. “Know then, said Pengolodh to me in dreams, that Idril and her husband did abide in Tirion upon Tûna. And there the years of Tuor grew long and blissful, and the yearning of Ulmo left him, and he and Idril walked hand in hand upon the white streets and the green glades. But it was not given to the Valar to change the will of Iluvatar, nor the gift of the Secondborn. Though years beond the span of Men were granted to him, yet in the end he passed away. Sorrowfully they took his body to the Sea, and placed it in Eärrámë, and cast it loose to sail forever uncorrupted among the Enchanted Isles, where even now she drifts among the mists and silent waters. The death of Tuor brough Idril grief untold. Long she stood upon the shore, watching the place where the ship had vanished into the mists, as the Sun and Stars circled overhead and the ocean’s depths sank into the horizon. She looked above, and saw her son; she looked below, and saw her husband. But neither could she reach, or hold close in her arms, and never would she see either again. She turned away, forsaking her abode in Tirion and her kin that yet remained, and sought repose in Irmo’s gardens green. There long she dwelt, weeping at the feet of Estë and wandering the paths of dreams, until her heart could bear no more. Her days grew bleak, and she numbered them not, and in her despair she sought her refuge in the House of Nienna. The grey lady welcomed her, and together they mourned the passing of light and joy, the darkness that had spread upon the lands and the woeful doom of Elves in Eastern lands. But even so Idril’s heart could not be healed, and so it came to pass that Nienna led her to her brother’s house, to the Halls of Mandos where those who have tired of life may go to rest. There she laid herself upon the ground, where by the grace of Nienna and of Irmo her eyes grew heavy, and she slept. For centuries uncounted she lay, and all the while her hair grew as dark as the everlasting night that covers Mandos’ Halls, and the light in her blue eyes faded to the colour of the grey mists where the spirits of the Elves await their turn. The ages passed, but Idril did not wake, for not yet healed was her great grief and sorrow, nor had the time appointed come when she should see the Sun and stars again. But when the might of Sauron grew yet greater, and the Valar saw the tapestry of life was once again woven with the darkness of the Evil One, Idril stirred, and woke from her long rest. She rose from her deep sleep, her eyes alight once more with strength and vision, and Nienna came to her and took her from the deep Halls unto the city of the Valar. And there she was arrayed again in her own garb and walked abroad to grow accustomed to the light of day. At night she watched the skies, seeking her own bright star, and smiled to see him cross the firmament in splendour. She asked of and heard of the fates of her grandchildren, of battles fought and won and evil overthrown, of Elves and Men growing in prosperity and centuries of long peace. But her heart grew troubled, for she also heard of evil spreading once again in those dark lands bereft of guidance. The vigilance of the Valar was unchanged, yet Sauron’s power strengthened and his will spread quickly among Men of lesser stature. She came herself to countless councils, held in Valmar among Elves, Maiar and Valar, and her fear was lessened slightly at the despatch of the five who took upon them the forms of the Children of Eru and went about among them, seeking to stem the evil tide. Yet even that was not enough, and Sauron rose to threaten all the lands. It was at that time that Yavanna took her counsel with Vairë and with Mandos, and that Manwë sought the wisdom of Ilúvatar. Idril’s heart grew more troubled still, and a strange restlessness took shape and settled in her mind – strange visions came to her of burning lands and evil deeds, of powers waning and kingdoms threatened, and once again she knew her foresight was upon her. Leaving her abode in Valimar she came before the Throne of Manwë upon Taniquetil, dressed all in grey and bowed in her submission, and thus addressed the Valar in their glory. ‘O Wise and Blessed Ainur, who saw the power of the One bring into being these fair lands and all therein, I beg you now to hear my plea. Long have I dwelt in Mandos’ Halls, for the peace of my heart was broken by my grief and naught but sleep could comfort me. Yet now these many years have passed, and I have woken, and my heart bids me now arise. For I have seen much in my sleep and learned much more when waking through the kindness of the Vanyar. The troubles of the ages weigh upon me, and greatly do I wish to bring my service to my grandson and his kin who yet abide in Middle-Earth and wage their war against the Evil that was brought into this world. I ask you now, let me return unto the Eastern lands, as Glorfindel did also ask and was given leave. For my heart yearns to heal the lands under the Shadow’s sway… and even though my city is no longer, yet I wish to breathe again the air upon the mountains tall that rear their peaks upon their troubled lands.’ Then Manwë looked upon her face, wondering at her request so bold and yet so gravely made, and in his heart he thought to deny her, for she seemed to him yet too frail to leave the Western shores. But Varda raised her hand and bade him wait to give his judgement. She motioned Idril to stand straight and look her in the eye, then spoken in soft and measured tones. ‘I see in you the yearning for the lands where your kin did give their lives to vanquish evil, but I see not what your heart most deeply wishes. For it is not for help of kin alone that you would journey to the East… Tell me, Lady of the House of Kings, what is it that you want? What does your heart desire?’ Idril gazed in awe upon the countenance of Varda, the Queen of Stars, protector of her son’s endeavours, and was speechless for a while. But as her eyes looked as it were into the firmament, her frame grew straight and proud and once again she showed herself a Princess, and worthy of that name. Her eyes regained their brilliance, her countenance its strength, her voice its full authority. ‘It is vengeance that I seek – vengeance that my heart desires. Too long have those who slew my kin held sway o’er those who still abide in Middle-Earth. Too long have Elrond and the sons of Elros fought their bitter struggle, their kingdoms islands swallowed by the tides of Evil. For years uncounted I have grieved and dreamed, and by the gracious will of Mandos and of Nienna long ages have I slept, escaping sorrow through oblivion. Yet neither sleep nor dreams could assuage my anger, nor can the feet of Idril Celebrindal walk with ease upon the streets of Vanimar or Tirion. The spawn of he whose lies deceived the Noldor, whose falsehoods spurred Fëanor’s rash departure and caused the slaying of Elves by Elves – whose minions laid to waste my city, slew my father, made my own kin into traitors… they live still upon the lands they conquered, laid to waste and now made barren by their filth. If I have strength, it will be turned against them. If I have wisdom, it will serve to match their cunning. If I have vision, it will forestall their plans. I cannot stand aside, nor watch and wait from far across the Sea. I will have vengeance – or I will have no peace.’ Her last words rang around the circle, and with her eyes fixed upon Manwë Idril stood tall, her hands out by her sides, awaiting the pronouncement of her fate. He saw the change and marvelled at it, and looked towards his brethren and his spouse, seeking their thoughts. But even as he looked, he felt the wisdom of the One come down upon him, bringing knowledge of the truth, and he was answered. His spouse inclined her head, giving her approval, knowing that the words that he would speak would serve the purpose not only of the Princess of the Eldar but also of the weaving of the tapestries of time. ‘Of vengeance you have spoken, Princess of the Noldor, yet you know well the ruinous end of those who take that path. You speak with pride, yet you have seen what price the proud have paid. Your wisdom may be great, but still your heart is full of anger, and you do not see clearly what future lies ahead. But I have seen the will of Iluvatar, and it is so that now you shall depart these shores once more. Not only vengeance will you find, with all its woes, but there shall also be the healing of your heart. But for this journey you must pay a price: that for which you were held in high esteem will fade, until the time Iluvatar has set when the Secondborn shall sing and you regain your gift of old. Then long will you journey for the help of others, and shall fight in battle once again. But all these things keep you secret in your heart, and speak to no one of them, until the time appointed.’ And Idril heard the words, and understood their meaning, but straightaway a veil was laid over her vision and she no longer saw the road ahead, nor knew where it may take her. But in her heart she thanked Iluvatar, and bowed before the Valar. ‘Great Manwë, blessed Varda, mighty of the Ainur, my wish and fate is given unto me and gladly both do I accept. For pride and anger, vengeance and despair, these I know well, and know the traps that lie upon these paths. And I have spoken here of that which grieves you most, for which I beg forgiveness. Yet one thing still I do not know, and that is how I may traverse the Sundering Seas, for now we are removed from those who dwell in Middle Earth and only those who come from Cirdan’s Havens in our ships may find the way.’ ‘Fair daughter of the House of Fingolfin,’ spoke Ulmo from the circle, ‘my aid I gave unto your husband once, and now again for love of Tuor and the Noldor will I offer you safe passage. A ship will bear you to the other side, traversing isles enchanted and encircling mists, and leave you where you choose upon the shores of Lindon. And Uinen shall go with you to calm the troubled seas.’ Manwë looked upon his brother with approval, then once again addressed her. ‘You will not take this road alone, for you will need much help yet in your travels. One companion you may take, which you shall choose, but not one of your kin. The kelvar that abide in Valinor are wise and strong, and many of them know the lands of Middle-Earth. Choose wisely.’ Then Idril thought awhile, and named her choice, and asked for one of Nahar’s kin to aid her – Vairë, named for the Weaver, whose great skill is the finding of paths in deepest wilderness. While Tuor was alive, Idril had travelled much with him, and Oromë had given both permission to ride in his great hunts. Vairë had been her steed for all the chases, and gladly did the Mearas bear the daughter of the Wise. Oromë granted her request, and reverencing once more Idril left the holy circle. She quickly returned to her dwellings and packed the things she knew that she would need to take with her, both scrolls and books and objects she held dear. She bade farewell to those she knew in Valimar and to her kin in Tirion and hastened to the shore, and there she stood in silent awe as Ulmo moored the ship that was to bear her thence. With Vairë swift and fair she went on board and saw no sailors manned the oars or sails, but in a gentle wind the vessel moved away, more swiftly then as gusts increased and sped them on their way. In silence was the journey taken, both reverent and anxious, as Idril’s eyes searched from horizon to horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse again of Eärrámë and her husband’s form. But through the long days and nights no other vessel could be found, nor any bird or living thing did cross their path, and Idril and her steed stood on the deck and rested there at need. Four days they sailed in quiet winds, traversing mazes of treacherous rocks and mists that touched their faces with their damp grey tendrils, and on the fifth morning as the Sun rose high they reached the shores of Lindon. No Elves were there to welcome the Princess, no Men or other creature witnessed their arrival. The ship sailed far into a rocky channel, and stopped where horse and rider could step forth into the waters, and even as they gained the shore and turned to look it was already gone into the far horizon. Then Idril looked before her at the unfamiliar lands, and Vairë huffed and pawed the ground in her excitement. They rode as shadows passing under clouds, both swift and silent, heading ever eastward to the place where Idril knew her kin still dwelt: to Imladris, and to her grandson’s house. The rest you know, but Elrond and the Aralirdan only understand what purpose lies behind her journey.” Back to the top Return to the front page of the book