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The Eastern Market of Gondolin hummed with life under the morning sun. Banners of vibrant silk fluttered between the white marble columns, each bearing the distinct colors and emblems of the Twelve Houses. The air filled with a symphony of voices haggling over prices, the clink of coins, and the rustle of fabric.
A merchant of the Heavenly Arch displayed gleaming gems on velvet while beside him, an artisan of the Hammer of Wrath showcased an engraved silver chalice.
"Fresh bread!" called a baker from the House of the Wing, his warm basket filling the air with herbs and honey.
Two women of the Golden Flower examined rich textiles at a nearby stall, admiring gold embroidery on dark blue silk.
"Better craftsmanship than last season," one said, lifting it to the light.
"The Swallow's new designs are exceptional."
A weaponsmith from the House of the Mole arranged ceremonial and hunting blades in the corner, steel glinting in the sun.
Children raced between stalls while a boy from the House of the Tree gazed longingly at honey-glazed nuts and candied fruits.
The central fountain's cascade complemented merchants of the Fountain House selling ornate silver vessels nearby.
A minstrel of the Harp settled on the steps, his songs of city glory blending into the market's vibrant atmosphere.
Through the market's edge, beneath the shade of a towering silver-barked tree, Glorfindel and Ecthelion stood apart from the bustling crowd. Their presence drew occasional glances from passing merchants and nobles, though most pretended not to notice the two legendary lords.
Glorfindel's golden hair caught fragments of sunlight filtering through the leaves as he surveyed the market's tapestry of activity. His keen eyes tracked the movements of guards, the exchanges of coins, the flow of people between stalls - ever the warrior, even in times of peace.
But Ecthelion's attention had fixed elsewhere. His gaze kept returning to a particular stall where an elderly elf spun clouds of pink and white candy floss onto paper cones. Children gathered around the booth, their faces bright with delight as they watched the sugar transform into gossamer threads.
A small girl in the colors of the House of the Tree clutched her treat with both hands, her face already sticky with sugar. Her father lifted her onto his shoulders, and her laughter rang clear above the market's din.
Ecthelion's pale features softened. "These are the moments when I wish I had a daughter or a little sister," he whispered, more to himself than his companion.
"What was that?" Glorfindel turned, catching only the murmur of Ecthelion's voice over the market's clamor.
Ecthelion hesitated, a faint blush coloring his pale cheeks. His dark hair fell forward as he ducked his head, then squared his shoulders and repeated himself with careful dignity.
"I said I wish I had a daughter or a little sister." His fingers twisted the silver ring on his right hand. "Then I'd have a proper excuse to get candy floss without looking foolish."
The corner of Glorfindel's mouth twitched upward, but he kept his expression neutral. The Lord of the Fountain rarely revealed such personal thoughts.
"Did you know," Ecthelion continued, his voice dropping lower, "Penlod gets sweet treats delivered to his door nearly every day? Pastries dusted with sugar, honey cakes, and yes - even candy floss." He crossed his arms, watching another child skip past with a pink cloud of spun sugar. "All because he has those two little girls. The visitors just shower them with sweets."
The note of childish envy in Ecthelion's voice broke through Glorfindel's composure. A warm laugh escaped him, earning a sharp look from his friend.
"The great Lord of the Fountain, jealous of Penlod's candy supply?" Glorfindel's eyes sparkled with mirth. "You could simply buy one, you know. No one would think less of you."
Ecthelion's posture stiffened, his pale features arranging themselves into the stern mask he wore during council meetings. "That's precisely what I cannot do. The Lord of the Fountain must maintain certain... standards."
Glorfindel's shoulders shook with silent laughter. The more dignified Ecthelion tried to appear, the more endearing he became.
"A lord who purchases sweets in public?" Ecthelion's voice dropped to a scandalized whisper. "What next? Dancing in the fountains? Playing hide-and-seek in the council chambers?"
"Now there's an idea." Glorfindel's eyes gleamed with mischief. "I can see it now - the great Ecthelion, terror of orcs, defender of Gondolin, hiding behind Penlod's writing desk while the children seek him out."
Ecthelion's face flushed a deeper shade of pink. "This is exactly what I mean. Our positions demand respect. Dignity. How can I command the House of the Fountain if my soldiers see me with sugar on my nose?"
The image only widened Glorfindel's grin. He watched as another group of children raced past their spot under the tree, their faces sticky with various market treats. Ecthelion's eyes followed them too, though he tried to maintain his stern expression.
"Besides," Ecthelion added, his voice carrying a hint of resignation beneath its carefully maintained authority, "what would the other lords say? Can you imagine Egalmoth's or Duilin's face if any of them saw me at the candy stall?"
Glorfindel bit his lip to suppress another laugh. The mighty Lord of the Fountain, who had faced down armies without flinching, worried about being caught with candy floss. It was moments like these that made Ecthelion impossibly dear to him, though he'd never dare say it aloud.
Ecthelion's brow furrowed as he watched another family pass by, a father swinging his daughter's hand between steps. His mind wandered past his initial candy-related envy into deeper waters.
"I wonder..." He straightened against the tree trunk, his voice taking on the analytical tone he used during strategic planning. "The Houses sometimes foster children from other families. It strengthens our bonds, creates new alliances."
Glorfindel pressed his lips together, struggling to contain his mirth at watching his friend apply military precision to the concept of adoption.
"And there are precedents," Ecthelion continued, tapping his fingers against his arm. "Lords have taken in wards before. It's a perfectly respectable tradition."
"Thel." Glorfindel's voice carried both affection and amusement. "You do realize there's one small flaw in this plan?"
"What's that?"
"There are currently no orphans in Gondolin." Glorfindel's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Our city has known peace for so long that every child has both parents - and usually an excessive number of doting aunts and uncles besides."
Ecthelion's face fell, then quickly resumed its lordly composure. "Ah. Yes. Of course." He cleared his throat. "That is... fortunate indeed. For the children."
The disappointment in his voice was so evident that Glorfindel had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing again. The mighty Lord of the Fountain, reduced to looking crestfallen over the city's lack of orphans - it was both amusing and oddly touching.
Ecthelion cast one final, wistful glance at the candy stall. His shoulders dropped in a barely perceptible sigh before he straightened, smoothing his features into the mask of dignified authority expected of the Lord of the Fountain.
The two lords continued their circuit of the marketplace, watching merchants and citizens alike. Glorfindel's keen eyes tracked the movement of guards at their posts while Ecthelion observed the flow of people through the square. The afternoon sun traced its arc across the sky, painting the white marble in shades of gold.
As dusk approached, merchants began packing their wares. The blacksmiths wrapped their equipment in cloth, while the jeweler from the House of the Heavenly Arch tucked precious gems into velvet-lined boxes. Parents ushered children home, their arms laden with the day's purchases.
The market's bustle faded to quiet industry as stalls were dismantled and carts wheeled away. Glorfindel turned to Ecthelion, his golden hair catching the last rays of sunlight.
"Meet me in the palace rose garden," he said. "I'll join you after I complete one final round."
Ecthelion nodded, his dark hair blending with the growing shadows. "Don't tarry too long, Laurë." He moved toward the palace, his steps silent against the stone path.
Glorfindel watched Ecthelion's retreating form until his friend disappeared around a corner. The market had emptied, leaving only the soft whisper of evening wind through the columns and the methodical sounds of merchants closing their stalls.
The elderly candy maker bent over his equipment, wiping down the metal bowl with practiced motions. His weathered hands moved with careful precision as he prepared to shut down the spinning mechanism.
Glorfindel crossed the square, his boots silent against the stones. "Pardon me."
The candy maker looked up, his eyes widening as he recognized the golden-haired lord. He straightened, brushing sugar dust from his apron. "My lord Glorfindel! I - I was just closing, but-"
"Might I trouble you for one last candy floss?" Glorfindel's voice carried its usual warmth. "Blue, if you have the coloring left."
"Of course, of course!" The old elf's hands trembled slightly as he reached for fresh sugar and blue dye. "It's not every day I make candy for the Lord of the Golden Flower."
The machine whirred to life one final time. As the candy maker worked, curiosity overcame his initial nervousness. "If I may ask, my lord - who is the lucky recipient? A child of one of your captains, perhaps?"
Glorfindel's lips curved into a mysterious smile, warmth dancing in his bright eyes. He watched as the elderly elf worked his craft, spinning sugar into delicate blue clouds that matched the evening sky. The treat took shape, wisps of spun sugar collecting around the paper cone like morning mist around the city's towers.
"Here you are, my lord." The candy maker held out his creation with both hands, pride evident in his careful movements.
Glorfindel placed several silver coins in the merchant's weathered palm - far more than the treat was worth. His fingers closed around the paper cone, and he leaned in close, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"It's for my sweet-tooth lover."
He winked at the candy maker, and then turned away without another word, leaving the startled candy maker staring after his retreating form, mouth slightly agape. The old elf's eyes widened as he processed the unexpected confession from one of Gondolin's most renowned lords.
The palace rose garden basked in the day's dying light. Ecthelion sat alone on a marble bench, his dark hair catching purple and orange hues from the sunset sky. His pale fingers traced abstract patterns on the bench's smooth surface while his thoughts drifted like clouds above.
The garden's high walls sheltered this private sanctuary from the city's evening bustle. Rose petals scattered across the stone path, their perfume mixing with the crisp mountain air. Water trickled from a small fountain nearby, its melody matching the quiet contemplation in Ecthelion's grey eyes.
Glorfindel paused at the garden's entrance, drinking in the sight of his friend's solitary figure against the twilight canvas. The blue candy floss he held behind his back caught a breeze, wisps of spun sugar dancing like seafoam. His footsteps fell silent on the rose-strewn path as he approached the bench.
Ecthelion remained lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the sky's changing colors. He hadn't noticed Glorfindel's presence yet - a rare occurrence for the ever-vigilant warrior. A slight smile played across his features as some private musing crossed his mind.
The golden-haired lord moved with deliberate grace, each step measured to maintain the peaceful tableau before him. The evening air carried the sweetness of roses and sugar, while shadows lengthened across the garden's carefully tended beds.
Ecthelion's warrior instincts finally caught up with his wandering thoughts. He tensed, then relaxed as he recognized Glorfindel's presence mere inches from the bench. The familiar scent of sunshine and leather that always accompanied his friend mixed with an unexpected sweetness in the air.
"What kept you?" Ecthelion titled his head, his dark hair falling across one shoulder. "Your 'final round' usually takes half this time."
Glorfindel's answer came in the form of a bright smile and a flourish as he presented the blue cotton candy, its delicate strands catching the last rays of sunset. The spun sugar matched the deepening twilight sky above them.
Ecthelion's eyes widened, his carefully maintained dignity slipping for a moment as he stared at the offered treat. A faint blush colored his pale cheeks, visible even in the fading light.
"I had to wait until the market cleared," Glorfindel explained, still holding out the candy floss. "Couldn't risk damaging your reputation, after all."
Ecthelion's mouth opened, closed, then opened again as he struggled between maintaining his lordly composure and accepting the gift he'd secretly yearned for all afternoon. His fingers twitched toward the paper cone, then pulled back.
"You didn't have to-" he started, but Glorfindel simply pressed the treat into his hands.
"Consider it a gift from the House of the Golden Flower to the House of the Fountain." Glorfindel's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Completely official. Diplomatic relations and all that."
Ecthelion's fingers closed around the paper cone, his stern facade cracking like spring ice. The corners of his mouth lifted into an unguarded smile - the kind Glorfindel rarely saw outside their private moments. His grey eyes lit up with childlike delight as he examined the blue confection.
"It matches the evening sky," he murmured, turning the cone to admire how the spun sugar caught the fading light.
Glorfindel settled beside him on the bench, his heart swelling at the pure joy radiating from his usually composed friend. Ecthelion took his first tentative bite, and the sugar dissolved instantly on his tongue. His eyes widened at the sensation.
Within moments, the Lord of the Fountain abandoned all pretense of dignity. He attacked the candy floss with the enthusiasm of a child at their first festival, pulling off chunks of the fluffy blue cloud and letting them melt in his mouth. A small bit of sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, though he remained blissfully unaware of it.
Between bites, Ecthelion glanced at Glorfindel. "What excuse did you give the candy maker?" He licked a bit of sugar from his fingers. "For buying this so late in the day?"
Glorfindel's bright laughter echoed off the garden walls. "I told him it was for my sweet-tooth lover."
Ecthelion choked on his mouthful of candy floss, his pale face flushing scarlet. "You didn't!"
"I did." Glorfindel reached out and brushed the sugar from Ecthelion's nose with his thumb. "Though I doubt the old fellow will guess I meant the mighty Lord of the Fountain himself."
Ecthelion's blush deepened to crimson. He glanced around the empty garden, though they both knew this secluded corner remained private at this hour.
Glorfindel's eyes sparkled with mischief. "The poor man looked quite scandalized. I suspect there will be whispers about the Lord of the Golden Flower's mysterious paramour by morning."
Ecthelion shook his head, though laughter danced in his grey eyes. "You're impossible." He pulled off another piece of candy floss, savoring the way it melted on his tongue. "Now the whole city will speculate about your secret love affair."
"Let them speculate." Glorfindel leaned back against the bench, his golden hair catching the last rays of sunset. "Though I doubt anyone would guess the truth - that the fearsome Lord of the Fountain has a weakness for sweets."
A cool evening breeze rustled through the rose garden, carrying petals across their feet. The fountain's quiet music mixed with the distant sounds of the city settling into night. High above, the first stars began to peek through the darkening sky.
"I should be cross with you." Ecthelion's stern tone was betrayed by the smile he couldn't quite suppress. He finished the last bite of candy floss and carefully folded the paper cone. "Instead, I find myself wondering if the candy maker will be there tomorrow."
Glorfindel's laugh rang clear in the twilight air. "Perhaps we should make this a regular diplomatic meeting between our Houses. Strictly official business, of course."
"Of course." Ecthelion's eyes sparkled with rare mischief. "Though next time, I think I'd prefer the pink flavor."
The two lords sat in comfortable silence as darkness settled over Gondolin. The garden became a world of shadows and starlight, broken only by the silver gleam of the fountain and the occasional flash of fireflies dancing between the roses.