Idril Celebrindal, Princess of Gondolin, sat before her mirror, preparing to meet the day.
She was clothed in a long, elegant dress the color of her stormy gray eyes, and her waist-length silver-blonde hair was brushed and let be, falling in gentle ripples down her back.
Around her neck hung a bright silver chain, delicate in style, and upon it was strung a single gen, a present from her father. A diamond, he had called it, a jewel fit for a princess.
Idril smiled at her reflection, content with her appearance.
Hearing a quiet knock, she walked to the door and opened it, showing a young guard outside.
The soldier bowed respectfully when he saw the Princess. “My lady,” he stated, “I am Arandur, messenger of the King. I have been sent to escort you to the Thone Room. Your father requests your presence there.”
Idril nodded. She had expected it. Her father sent for her to sit beside him almost every day in the absence of her mother Elenwë. “Very well, Arandur,” she replied in her soft, melodic voice.
Arandur held out his bent arm to the Princess, who took it with a smile.
“Let us go, then, my lady.”
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Maeglin watched in quiet envy as the young guard entered the Throne Room with his cousin.
He, the King’s sister-son, stood in an honored position at King Turgon’s left side.
All those that stood in the Throne Room waiting for audience with the King bowed low when their Princess entered their midst.
Arandur saw the Princess to her seat at the right hand of her father, and then bowed once to the royal family, leaving the hall.
Idril looked around her, sighing inwardly. It will be a long day.. The usual number of discontent Elves were assembled to voice their complaints to the King.
Turgon, crowned and upon the throne, nodded to Maeglin, who called, “First!”, his voice echoing in the large room.
A male Elf, tall once perhaps, yet now stooped by his smith-work, stepped forward, bowing.
“Findír, is it not?” Turgon asked.
“Yes, my lord, ” Findír answered reverently.
“Well, Findír, what then is your trouble, that only the King may solve it?”
“My lord, as always, it is not merely my problem, but a thing that will concern all of Gondolin, this fair city of the Noldor-“
“Out with it!” Turgon demanded, growing impatient with Findír’s meaningless babble.
Findír bowed again, looking somewhat uneasy. “My lord, I, and my smiths under me, run perilously short of metal for weapons and other things, as well. We have mined all that we may from within our walls. Will you allow us to go into the nearby mountains in secret to gather what we may?” Findír managed hastily.
Turgon pursed his lips into a fine line with thought.
“No, ” he finally pronounced. “It is too dangerous. Use what metal you have sparingly, wasting none, and I will consider allowing a small group, heavily guarded go and mine more. As for now-” he shook his head, “no one leaves our gates. Next?”
Findír bowed once more and exited, looking displeased, but all heard his gasp after the doors had been closed behind him.
Immediately they were opened again to reveal a golden-haired Elf and a young Man beside him.
A herald announced, “Your Majesty. Voronwë of Gondolin and Tuor, son of Huor, I present to you now.”