Still by Belladonna Poisoning

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Story notes: It's Tolkien's, not mine, don't sue 'cause I haven't got anything worth taking. This was an utterly random bunny and I blame Morgana. I was *trying* to write a cute little ficlet for her and *this* came out instead. Alas, my muse has a twisted sense of humor. Thoughts in italics. Oh, and I am thoroughly ashamed of myself for writing this. Glorfindel of Gondolin belongs with Ecthelion, dammit!
Glorfindel shifted in bed to look at his lover. "Maeglin, what's wrong?"

Maeglin started, then smiled at his golden-haired bedmate. "I'm sorry, melme, did you ask me something?"

Glorfindel sighed in frustration. "Yes! What's wrong? You're always off in the clouds, even in bed, even on the practice courts! If I hadn't noticed I could have killed you this morning! You didn't even duck!"

The smile wavered, then remained. "But you did notice, love, and see, it's almost healed already." He gestured towards the bandage on his left shoulder, where Glorfindel's sword had buried itself. The Lord of the House of the Golden Flower was correct in one thing at least: if he hadn't realized that his lover was distracted, the blade's edge would have sunk into Maeglin's neck, parting head from body.

"I wish you would tell me what is bothering you," Glorfindel whispered, wrapping his arms around Maeglin's waist tightly. "I don't want to lose you. Least of all to one of my sword strokes you didn't block!"

Maeglin turned his head to catch the blond's lips in a gentle kiss. "You won't lose me." Breaking the kiss, he turned away and was lost almost immediately in a haze of dreams.

"Maeglin..." Glorfindel pleaded.

He came back to himself, and twisted around to rest his chin on Glorfindel's shoulder. "A storm is coming," he murmured in his ear. "Be prepared."

Glorfindel blinked in bewilderment, and might have demanded an explanation, but Maeglin kissed him again, more insistently this time, and he surrendered as always to the whims of his moody lover.




Fire. Fire everywhere. Glorfindel ran through the chaotic crowds, looking for someone, anyone who knew what was going on. "Ecthelion!" he shouted. The dark-haired warrior's head jerked up, and he shoved his way towards his friend. "Ecthelion, what's happened?"

"It's Maeglin!" Ecthelion screamed back, tears marking clean tracks through the dirt and soot on his face. "He betrayed the city, Melkor's creatures are burning everything! I can't find Tuor or the princess, Glorfindel, you must find them and get them out of the city!" Glorfindel stared at him, his thoughts running in shrieking circles in his mind. "Maeglin?" he whispered.

"Glorfindel, we don't have TIME! He betrayed the city, he betrayed the king, he betrayed you! Now wake up and move!"

He staggered, then drew his sword. "Where?"

"Head towards the wall-" He was interrupted by cries of terror from behind them. "Fountain Court-I must go! Find the princess!"

"Ecthelion, you're hurt!" Glorfindel cried uselessly, gesturing at his friend's right arm. His mail had melted, and what could be seen of the hand and wrist was horribly burned.

"Find the princess!" Ecthelion repeated fiercely, and turned, heading towards Fountain Court.




Glorfindel flung himself into the task of carving his way towards the battlements. As he ascended the final stairs, a shrill shriek rent the air. "Maeglin, no!"

Idril stood facing the traitor of Gondolin, gripping a sword in white-knuckled hands while her son hid behind her skirts, defiantly protecting her husband, who sprawled unconscious on the ground. She held the sword with courage but she clearly had little knowledge of its use, and Maeglin was one of the best of Turgon's warriors...

"Maeglin!" Glorfindel screamed. The traitor's body jerked at the sound of his voice. Glorfindel called to him as a lover, blindly believing that everything could be explained away, love and trust clearly evident.

Maeglin did not turn, and Glofindel's heart bled.

"Maeglin!" he called again, this time as a friend, believing the crime now but willing to forgive, called with affection and absolution.

Idril watched with disbelief as Maeglin bowed his head and wept, but he did not turn to face his lover. Glorfindel's heart shattered.

"Maeglin!" Glorfindel howled, calling to a traitor who had betrayed his beloved king and city. Friendship was gone, replaced by hate; faith had vanished, its place taken by condemnation; love fled, leaving only rage.

And now Maeglin, the traitor of Gondolin, slowly turned his back to his princess, and looked at his lover. "I love you still," he said simply, as Glorfindel's sword swung once more to his throat. Blinded with fury, he could not stop the blade in time.

Blood spurted from the severed artery, spraying the horrified Elda as he stared down the length of his sword to his dead lover. "Maeglin!" he wailed, dropping the blade and falling to his knees. Maeglin's body crumpled to the ground, and Glorfindel flung himself over the corpse, sobbing.




Tuor led his wife and son out of the fallen city of Gondolin, Glorfindel guarding the rear. Parents and child hurried on, but Glorfindel lagged back, his sword at the ready as a balrog reared up before him.

I love you still.

A savage smile danced across Glorfindel's features, and he lunged at the demon, determined to bring down this one last creature of darkness.

I will not lose you, Maeglin. Soon, love. I will be with you soon.
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