The Love of Gorthaur – Prologue

by Mar 7, 2003Stories

For the love of Gorthaur

Of old there was Sauron the Maia whom the Elves had named Gorthaur. A spirit of fire and creation, and a helper of Aule the smith in the beginning, Sauron was seduced by Morgoth, his heart blackened. He soon became one of the most feared servants of the Dark Lord, and he grew in power and wisdom, but also in malice, which would be his ultimate end. But that tale is told elsewhere.

This story takes place in the Second Age of the Sun in Eregion, before the forging of The Rings of Power.

It is said that after the War of Wrath, having been pardoned by the Valar, Sauron had repented his evil deeds, if for no reason other than fear of the hosts of the West, he had turned his mind to good. After his final demise many would say that his heart was as black as ever in those days, but that wasn’t entirely true.


Ollorien was the daughter of Tindariel and Fearanur, a worthy Elven smith in the service of Lord Celebrimbor of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain. She was born at the beginning of the Second Age in Eregion; Tindariel had given birth to her on a dreamlike summer night under the stars and hence named her Ollorien.

Ollorien was fair as only the Firstborn could be; her hair was golden as the sunset on the Western Seas, though she was of the Noldor, for her mother was akin to Finarfin. Her eyes were at times like emeralds from the Earth, and at others like the clear blue sky on a summer day, but mostly they were deep and gray, like her father’s. Her pale skin glinted like mithril in the moonlight. She was small of stature for an Elf, but that did not diminish her beauty, and when she sat in the green grass of the land that men called Hollin, she resembled a flower – graceful and beautiful, yet tender and frail.

For many a year she walked the Earth and sang, joyful and careless, for she was young and had not seen the Shadow, and the devices of the enemy were alien to her. She had seen no death, no sorrow and no pain.

Ollorien had inherited her father’s gift and could subdue any metal to her will, and she made many things of beauty in her youth: brooches set with gems, made in the forms of birds that she loved, necklaces and rings, and even swords and knives of exceeding wonder she wrought. But later on she tired of working with things that were pretty themselves, so she turned her attention to stone. And it was said that under the hand of Ollorien the Fair even the hardest rock sang as she turned it into a thing of beauty beyond compare.

She worked long and hard, often deep into the night, making sculptures and fountains that decorated the streets of Ost-in-Edhil, the city of the Elves.

For herself she made a dwelling place outside the city, hewn out of a great stone that once stood there. It was a strange house, if a house it could be called. Surrounded by a tall hedge, with one gate in it, marked by two tall trees. The building itself was circular in shape, and great pillars of stone, made to look like trees, held a mighty roof attired with silver and gold. In the middle of it was a vast opening through which Ollorien gazed at the stars. On it lay a spell so that no rain came through it, but fell to the sides as if a great, invisible dome stood over the opening, and the raindrops bounced off it, creating all the colors of the rainbow. Underneath it, on the floor a great basin stood, hewn of marble. Yet it didn’t house water, but fire, for Ollorien needed it in her workings.

The doors of Ellenbar – the house of stars as it was called – were lofty, and stood on great iron hinges. Seven marble steps led up to them. The door itself was made of oak wood and set with runes of power to make all that enter joyful. At both sides of the door stood stone figures of an elf-maiden, almost life-like, which held aloft silver jugs from which water constantly flowed, following paths around the steps, to cross at a point in front of the house where a beautiful fountain stood, shimmering with delight.

Aside from the great hall, Ellenbar had two small rooms which extended from the main building out into the orchard and garden at the back. One of them was the room in which Ollorien slept, it was scarcely furnished, having only one bed, a lantern (made by Ollorien herself) and shelves full of scrolls of poetry and tales of ages long past. It had two doors, one that led in from the hall, and another that led out into the garden. It had no windows, for the door to the garden was made of glass and gave enough light to the small room.

The other room was a kind of storage chamber, and in it were all Ollorien’s works housed, before they were sent to Ost-in-Edhil, or placed in the garden of Ellenbar. It had only one door leading in from the hall, and a great window on the further side.

The hall itself had no windows, save for the henneth-galad, the window to the light, as the opening in the roof was called. Instead, tapestries portraying the deeds of the Noldor hung on the walls, vivid and colorful, they were woven by the maidens of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain, who were as skilled in weaving as their husbands were in smithcraft. They were a gift to Ollorien for all the beautiful fountains that decorated Ost-in-Edhil.

And there, in the fair halls of Ellenbar dwelt Ollorien the beautiful, alone, but not lonely.

But still, aside from when she was working, Ollorien spent most of her time outside, in her garden, or in front of the house, watching the birds that came to bathe in her fountain. Often she left the house and went wandering around Ost-in-Edhil singing. Her voice was deep and melodious, yet merry and heartwarming and she was renowned for it as well as for her masonry. All that knew her welcomed her and rejoiced to hear her sing. And for many long years she worked, and walked, and sang, and was happy.

Until there came a day when Ollorien the fair fell silent. No more could her song be heard in the streets of Ost-in-Edhil, nor in her garden. And for the first time the maiden that made even the stones sing came to know sorrow.

This is just a fragment of a longer story which I have already posted here. The problem is that it is rather long, so I have decided to break it down to smaller fragments, so more people read it. Thanks for reading,



Submit a Comment

Found in Home 5 Reading Room 5 Stories 5 The Love of Gorthaur – Prologue

You may also like…

The Missing Link Chapter 3: Captive

We return to the forests again. Our hobbit friend has lost all faith and finds the true meaning of apathy by the end of this chapter. He is taken captive by a band of elves and one human. This chapter suggests that some of his past will be revealed soon.

read more

The Missing Link Chapter 2: Ivy

We leave the fields and forsets and earth whatsoever to the sea, where a broken abused halfling sails. We hear a little about her past from her recalled memories that she remembers during her turn at lookout. Please comment again, and if you find ANY FAULT AT ALL please tell me. Thank you! 🙂

read more