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“Excuse me, Glorfindel?” The golden haired warrior glanced up at his book at the sound of his name and then down to see Bilbo Baggins standing before him. A smile grew on his face at the sight of the elderly hobbit, it had only been a few years since his arrival in Rivendell, but he had quickly become a beloved member of the community.
“Master Bilbo! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Glorfindel questioned, gesturing towards the chair next to him in invitation. Bilbo eyed it for a moment, before seeming to decide sitting was not worth the effort it would take to climb the Noldor sized chair, and remaining where he was.
“I was wondering if I could ask you a history question if it wouldn’t make you too uncomfortable.” Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at that. Most of the time Bilbo didn’t seem to care if he made people uncomfortable, he said what he thought and used his elderly state as an excuse for his behavior. “It's about the Fall of Gondolin.”
Ah, well that explained it. Asking about the destruction of the city one had loved and died for was a rather delicate topic. Even so many years later, it still grieved Glorfindel to think of Turgen’s glorious city meeting its end. He had thousands of years and time spent in the Halls of Mandos to come to terms with it though, and while it certainly wasn’t a topic he enjoyed conversing about, he could stand to answer some questions.
“As long as it doesn’t involve Balrogs, you may ask away.”
Bilbo let out a small chuckle. “Nothing to do with Balrogs, I assure you. I actually wanted to ask you about Maeglin.”
Glorfindel scowled at the mention of the traitor of Gondolin. He hadn’t actually known it was Maeglin who had revealed the location of the city until after his death, but it had shocked him to hear. Maeglin had never really fit in with the rest of Gondolin, he was too much like his father and not enough like his mother. People had admired him for his skill in smithing and for his bravery in battle, but aside from his uncle and those part of the House of the Mole, Glorfindel wasn’t sure anyone actually liked the young elf. Still, Glorfindel had at least thought him loyal.
“What about him?”
Bilbo rubbed his chin thoughtfully “Well, Pengolodh’s writing claims that Maeglin was so scared of Morgoth that when brought before him, he not only easily gave up Gondolin’s location, but shared further information in exchange for being promised lordship and his cousin Idril.”
“That’s right,” Glorfindel agreed, his lip curling in disgust at the mention of it. Pengolodh had spread the tale of what had happened quickly enough that there had been elves who were killed in the Second Kinslaying who had brought word of it to the halls. To say Glorfindel had been furious upon hearing it, was an understatement
“But what I’m wondering is, how would he know?”
Glorfindel blinked. “Pardon?”
“How would Pengolodh know that’s the way Maeglin’s betrayal went? The only people who would have been there when it happened would have been Maeglin himself, Morgoth, and I suppose possibly Sauron and some orcs. I highly doubt any of them sat down with Pengolodh to give an account, so how could he know that Maeglin easily gave up the information or that any deal was struck?”
“I…I don’t know…” Glorfindel admitted, his expression surprised. He had never even considered it before, just taken the idea that it was true as a fact. Now that Bilbo had pointed it out though, he realized that it didn’t seem possible for Pengolodh to know what had actually happened. Morgoth and his ilk certainly couldn’t have told him, and as far as he knew Maeglin was still in the halls, which meant Pengolodh couldn’t have heard it from him. Nor would he likely have shared such a tale if his motivations had really been so wicked.
Some of the Valar might know the truth, but Glorfindel doubted they would have sat down for an interview with Pengolodh. But then what option did that leave, had it all just been made up? What Pengolodh had said about Maeglin’s actions during the fall had to have at least some truth to it, the testimonies of Idril and Tuor proved it, but Glorfindel was beginning to doubt the events leading up to it.
“And there’s another thing,” Bilbo continued, heedless of the crisis Glorfindel was going through. “Maeglin is said to have been held captive for a year, which admittedly if we’re doubting Pengolodh’s accuracy, we have to question as well. But I imagine there must be some basis for that claim, given that such a long absence would have surely been noticed…” He shot a questioning glance at Glorfindel.
“He was gone from Gondolin for a little over a year. He’d managed to get permission from Turgon to go prospecting for a new mine.” Glorfindel was glad that at least was a question he could answer. “It shouldn’t have taken more than a month or two at most, so it was strange he was gone so long, but he made excuses about a cave in happening and no one questioned it.” In hindsight they probably should have, a cave in shouldn’t have kept Maeglin so long.
“So possibly not a whole year, but at the very least several months.” Bilbo concluded thoughtfully, “Well, I can’t claim to have any experience with dark lords, but that seems like an awfully long time to hold someone captive without doing anything, especially if your goal was to make them into a traitor.”
The hobbit didn’t outright say he suspected Maeglin had been tortured, but the implication was clearly there. In truth, it was a possibility Glorfindel had admittedly considered during the short time between learning about Maeglin’s betrayal and hearing the supposed details of said betrayal. Something that felt a lot like guilt stirred in Glorfindel’s gut, as he thought about how easily he’d convinced himself that Maeglin had not been tortured, that there were no signs of it.
What had he expected? That if Maeglin had been tortured he would have paraded through the streets showing off his scars? People reacted to trauma in different ways, and looking back he can remember how much quieter Maeglin was after his return, rarely speaking unless he was spoken to. Many in Gondolin had fallen victim to Maeglin’s sharp tongue in the past, and so what they perceived as the young elf finally softening had been celebrated.
Everything felt much harsher in hindsight . If Maeglin had been tortured, what must that have been like, to see people celebrating the way your trauma had affected you? What other signs might there have possibly been that they’d missed?
Bilbo was looking at Glorfindel expectantly but all the elf could do was shake his head. “I have no answers for you my friend, I fear instead you have left me with questions of my own.” He did not think he would sleep that night, he would be far too busy going through his memories of the past, trying to find answers. He could not know what happened during Maeglin’s captivity any more than Pengolodh had, but that didn’t stop the sick feeling in his stomach that they had done Maeglin wrong.