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Erestor leaned his chin on his palm, elbow resting on the table, trying his best not to fall asleep to the constant droning of Professor Saruman. Erestor was taking the intro to Arda history 101 for his GE credit and it was turning out to be a poor decision. Professor Saruman, despite his lauded position in his particular field of work, was a terrible teacher.
The intro class was held in a large lecture hall with tiered seats. From his position Erestor could see over the shoulder of the fellow in front of him, a hobbit it seemed, curly haired and also bored with the class. Erestor watched as the hobbit took out a book...a comic book it seemed. Tales of Gondolin was emblazoned on the cover. Also on the cover were two very striking elves, one with shining golden hair held up in a high tale, the other with his ink-dark hair flowing about his shoulders and held back with a circlet. They stood back to back, swords drawn, in front of a white tower that was on flames. It was all very heroic.
Erestor sank down in his chair and pulled out his phone, keeping it hidden behind his open laptop. From there he browsed over to Ardazon, looked up the title of the book and hit purchase without a flinch.
He forgot about the book until Friday when his order arrived. Erestor had a full scholarship to Mithlond University and was studying to become an archivist. Or a librarian. Whichever he could get into first, really. His roommate was another elf by the name of Elrond, who was pre-med. Elrond's twin brother Elros was on the university football team and had the ambition to go pro. Or to join the Navy. One of the two. Erestor didn't understand Elros much but wished him well. The twins were in different rooms due to some mix up at registration but it had worked out well for Erestor. Half the time Elrond was in his brother's room and when he was in their room he was usually passed out on his bed asleep. All in all it was a win for Erestor.
Getting his mail, Erestor brought the book up to his room and barely managed to get through the reading he needed to finish for the evening before he ripped open the package and opened his newest treat. Erestor loved myths about the First Age. Elven histories were chock-full of stories from Beleriand and beyond. Whether or not Aman and the Valar actually existed was up for debate in these modern times, though every year at least a handful of boats left the Grey Havens and never returned. There had been boats from Mordor sent to look for them but to date no evidence that any of those boats had capsized or sank or somehow ran into trouble that would explain why they never returned. It was as if they had simply...vanished.
Erestor didn't like thinking about that, much. The modern world was exactly that. Modern. Gone were the days of high magic and armies and elven nations controlling large swaths of western Arda. The world was round, as the satellites proved. The seas were being mapped. All the peoples of Arda had their own histories, telling their own tale of how the world was shaped. Erestor's own family had some relation to the far eastern elves beyond the Harad and even further south. The Uruk-hai peoples claimed that their creator was not one of the Valar but a wizard of the Third Age. No one knew his name. Erestor knew that Professor Saruman was one of the preeminent scholars in that particular archaeological field but not much more than that. There were few histories from the orc and goblin peoples, at least written down, as much of their knowledge of their past was handed down orally.
Still, Erestor liked to indulge himself in reading about the First Age and the heroes of the tales still told to modern day. The story of Glorfindel of the Golden Flower and Ecthelion of the Fountain was one of his favorites.
It was said that Glorfindel and Ecthelion were love rivals, but the tales could never agree as to whom they were rivals over. Some claimed Egalmoth. Others claimed Duilin. Some even claimed King Turgon, but the prevailing theory was that they were rivals over the hand of Maeglin, the King's nephew. The tales all spoke of how this Maeglin had sacrificed himself to beat back the armies of Morgoth as they came down from the northern mountain range on Midsummer. The tales spoke of how this Maeglin brought forth a Light similar to that of the Silmarils, and that glorious show of frozen rainbow light stopped the horde in their tracks long enough for Gondolin to rally and beat back the invasion.
But of Maeglin's fate nothing more was known. Some tales claimed that emissaries from the Valar came to bring him to Valinor, to be with his kin there. Some tales claimed that Maeglin was still waiting in the Halls of Mandos for the Healing of Arda so that his fëa might finally be set free. Some tales claimed that Maeglin was a traitor, that he was the reason Morgoth found the location of Gondolin at all. And as for Glorfindel and Ecthelion and Maeglin, the tales all differed there too. Some claimed that Maeglin had enchanted both warriors somehow, with dark magics learned from Morgoth's lieutenant Sauron. Some claimed that Maeglin was a pure and innocent soul who had pledged his fëa to chastity, which was how he managed to save Gondolin. Some claimed that his beauty had stolen the hearts of Glorfindel and Ecthelion with one glance. Erestor wasn't sure what to believe. It was more fun to just enjoy all the different tales, even the ones that painted Maeglin in a poor light. It was all just entertainment, after all. Who needed to worry about what actually happened? The First Age was almost twenty thousand years ago. No one could possibly know the truth after all that time.
So Erestor cracked open his new book expecting nothing more than an entertaining evening and possibly some fun dreams for after.
Erestor did not expect to go to sleep with the book on his chest and wake up in a bed that was three times the size of his small twin in his dorm and in a room he did not recognize. For a moment he lay there, stunned, thinking that Elrond and Elros had somehow played a prank on him. Then he realized that the windows were open and the curtains were pulled back and that he could see a mountain range from where he was splayed out in bed.
There were no mountain ranges like that around Mithlond University.
Erestor levered himself up, his head feeling strange and achy. There was something warm dripping over his lip and when he touched the skin his fingertips came away bloody. In fact he could see more than one bruise blooming along his arms and torso, and more were revealed on his legs when he pulled back the sheets to sit up. It looked...it looked almost like he had been beaten , but when? How? None of this made sense. Erestor loathed exercise. He had barely passed PE in high school.
He was hit with a rush of dizziness when he stood. He tottered his way over to the window, blinking and squinting against the light as he peered out. The bright white stone made the ache in his head ten times worse. But when he got his watering eyes under control Erestor still blinked and blinked and blinked again. He used his fists to rub at his eyes and then looked again. But no, the scenery did not change.
For spread out in front of him, white and clean and beautiful, was Gondolin. The mountain range he had seen was one of the many that encircled the city. Erestor could spot several of the towers that dotted the gleaming walls of the city. Many of them flew banners with heraldry Erestor did not recognize.
Erestor had absolutely no idea what was happening. This had to be a dream. This had to be a dream.
But then there was a faint knock on the door before it opened, revealing a tall elven lord with dark hair pulled back in a simple circlet. He was not the elf Erestor had thought he would dream about when he fell asleep that night. No, this elf was familiar. Strikingly familiar. Erestor had seen his image in many textbooks over the years.
King Turgon of Gondolin had just entered the room.
“Maeglin,” the king said and Erestor resisted the urge to look around. For Turgon's gaze was directed at him. “You should not be up. The poisoned dart your father hit you with was very strong, you need to rest and recover from his attack.”
Erestor felt his eyebrows go up and had absolutely no idea what to say. Maeglin? Him ? Absolutely not. His name was Erestor. What in all of Arda was going on here?
Instead of answering Erestor made his way back over to the bed. King Turgon made a soft tutting sound and then tucked him in. Erestor had no idea what to do with his hands. “I see that you've had another nose bleed,” the king said as he sat on the edge of Erestor's bed. “The healers say that it is a symptom of the poison your father used. What do you remember?”
“I...” Erestor blinked a few times at Turgon, his mind blank. “Nothing,” he said, trying and failing not to tremble. “What is going on?”
Turgon's brows drew together as he leaned forward. “You do not remember returning to Gondolin with your mother?”
“My mother?” Erestor felt a flash of panic. “Is she...is she here?”
Turgon's expression twisted and Erestor flinched back before he could stop himself. Turgon turned his face away, breathing deep. Erestor rather wanted to fling himself out of the window and hoped that when he hit the ground he would wake up from this absolute cracker of a dream.
“I am so sorry, Erestor,” Turgon said after a long, strained silence. The king turned his head back to Erestor, eyes bright with actual tears. “I'll start from the beginning, then.”
That was how Erestor learned that Aredhel and Maeglin had appeared a fortnight before at the Gate of Wood, both of them bloody and beaten and terrified, pleading for entry. The Dark Guard had taken them in and brought them to Turgon, who had welcomed Aredhel back with great joy. As for their wounds...
“Aredhel said your father was...wroth when he learned that Aredhel wished to return to Gondolin,” Turgon said with a dark expression. “Aredhel was carrying you when she arrived at the Gate of Wood. Our healers did not know if you would survive at first.”
That explained the bruises, then.
Turgon explained that Maeglin and Aredhel had only been in Gondolin for a handful of days before Eöl appeared, demanding them back. Turgon told Erestor of how he had brought Eöl to the throne room, to answer for his crimes against his wife and child. Turgon told Erestor how Eöl had spit in Turgon's face, had demanded his wife and child back, and when denied, had attacked Aredhel and Maeglin both. Turgon explained that both Aredhel and Maeglin had been stabbed by Eöl's dagger – only for Turgon and his healers to find out too late that it had been poisoned.
Turgon wept as he told Erestor of Maeglin's mother's death and her plea to Turgon to take care of Maeglin, to keep him well, to bring him up as a proud son of Gondolin, so that he might know their history.
Erestor did not realize he was crying until hot tears dripped down onto his hands. He raised trembling fingers to find his cheeks wet with them. “And...Eöl?” He could not call the elf his father. Erestor was Erestor. Not Maeglin. He couldn't be.
Turgon's expression twisted but when Erestor tensed and pulled back the king sighed and said, “He is dead. He would have killed your mother with a strike to the heart if I had not intervened.”
“Oh,” Erestor said, his voice faint. It felt like the whole room was starting to turn in slow circles about him. “I see.” He blinked a few times. “Am I...what are you going to do with me?”
“Oh, my child,” Turgon breathed and Erestor flailed when he found himself swept up into a hug. “I will grant my sister's wish with my whole heart. You are now and forever more a child of my house, a proud son of Gondolin, a prince. You will have nothing to fear here. I swear it. Our city is strong and hidden. No agent of darkness will ever find us here. You are safe, I promise. No one will ever hurt you again.”
Erestor opened his mouth to deny that fact – since he well knew what was going to happen to Gondolin – but a strange rattle came out instead. He thought he heard Turgon cry out for a healer. He thought he heard more elves enter the room and issue orders left and right.
But Erestor would only find out later – much later – that the poison in his system had not run its course as the healers had originally thought. Later Erestor would learn that he would lay in a death-like state for a fortnight before the healers could say that he would yet live. Later Erestor would find that he would wake up in that same spacious room with the same view of the mountain range, in the same city that he had fallen asleep in.
Later Erestor would wake up as Maeglin and have absolutely no idea how to get home and become Erestor once more.