She opened her eyes slowly, her eyelids heavy with a stupor left behind the onslaught of anxiety and panic. The shadow passed away into the edges of her vision until they withdrew completely, leaving a tall figure standing before her. She found her image of Mandos as valiant and beautiful as she could have imagined a Valar to be, but she did not understand why he dressed himself in battle-worn clothes and bleeding wounds upon his face. Perhaps Mandos robed himself in death.
“What is your name?” he asked gently.
His expression and voice were comforting to Eliriael and her tears seemed to slow and her body relaxed. “Eli…Elirië,” she answered when she was able to calm herself enough to speak.
The figure before her introduced himself as Belegos and as he did, Eliriael could hear destructive rumbles in the distance. Her illusion seemed to fade and dissipate into her surroundings, which she suddenly took notice of as her senses restored themselves in the outside air. The heat of fire and black smoke no longer invaded her eyes, ears, and nose. She could see clearly now, and she recognized that she was still in Gondolin, though it had changed much since she stood upon the high walls of the city with her mother and father earlier that night. And the figure she took to be Mandos, was an elf – subject to wounds and death, just as much as she was.
She looked behind the elf, Belegos, to see that the healing house had burned to the ground, and she understood all at once what fate this elf had saved her from. She felt the rise of awe and gratitude in her heart, yet the guilt that she had been protected when her mother was not. Where was she now?
Belegos spoke again and her respect for him commanded her attention. He introduced his friend Veon, who lay beside her, unconscious. She had never seen such an injured elf in the healing houses before, but she knew enough to tell that he might have been close to death. It was clear from Belegos’ words that he intended to get them all out of the city. She nodded, agreeing to do as he said, and promising to herself to do all she could to make sure her rescuer and his friend would reach safety.
But her heart squeezed inside her chest painfully; she wanted to know where her parents were. Why were they not here to take her to the Hidden Passage? She took a quick wishful glance around before dashing after Belegos, who had shouldered Veon’s weight and already began to move down the street.
Belegos moved swiftly, even with another body to carry. His stride was long and graceful and it took many of her small quick steps for Eliriael to keep up. Her lungs felt tired and constricted from breathing in so much smoke in the fire, but she could not slow them down. She followed Belegos unthinkingly, her legs taking one step after another, as she swiveled her head and kept her eyes wide open for a glimpse of her parents. Every muscle in her body wanted to rebel against the path she was on and run further into the city to search for her mother and father.
“Eli, you must not disobey me.” The memory of her mother’s voice rang clear in her mind. She had to make it to the Hidden Passage. Her mother had ordered her. Her heart gave a sob in her chest and her body continued running after Belegos as if in a trance.
Suddenly, Eliriael paused and steadied her breathing, noticing that Belegos had stopped and turned towards her. He pointed to a passage, towards which many women and children were running. “There it is Eli, the way out of Gondolin. Go there now and be free of this place, I will follow you.” When she remained motionless, Belegos said again to her, “Go Eli! There is no time!”
Eliriael shook her head defiantly. She could not leave them there. And though she did not say so, she was also too scared to go alone. Thus, she insisted that Belegos come with Veon and he gave in. He continued forward and Eliriael fell behind him.
In a few moments, Belegos came before a soldier and began speaking urgently with him. Eliriael watched them speak quickly until the soldier walked away, then returned bringing a cart. Belegos carefully laid his friend inside and began to head into the passage, pushing the cart ahead of him. Eliriael put her hands on the cart in an effort to help, though she had little strength to contribute.
The passage was dark and the air seemed thick. She stepped toward Belegos and stayed close, unable to see much in front of her. With one hand on the cart in front of her, she grabbed onto Belegos with the other. Her eyes adjusted slowly and she noticed injured elves leaning against the sides of the passage. Belegos drew her to him and she was thankful for the comfort and protection he provided.
Though the passage seemed endless, after many minutes, Eliriael discerned a growing light ahead. The possibility of an end to the dark tunnel seemed to encourage Belegos and Eliriael felt him pick up his pace beside her. She continued to look around her, hoping that her mother and father would be waiting in the passage for her, but she recognized none of the elves. She dreaded that she would not find them before the end of the tunnel. Her heart weighed heavy in her chest and seemed to weigh down her legs, unwilling to reach the exit. But she could not hinder Belegos, and so her body moved, burdened, yet quickly – two opposing forces running like a current in her small body.
Finally, they reached the end and they emerged into the open valley of Tumladen, leaving the blackness of the passage behind them. The smell of smoke still drifted upon the air and she looked up at Belegos as he gazed at something in the distance behind her, a great sorrow written in his eyes. She turned and saw the fair city of Gondolin, clouded in smoke and burning. Her heart beat loudly, realizing that her parents may still be in the city. She shook her head. They had to have escaped.
She felt a soft thud behind her and she turned in surprise to see the stalwart and strong figure of Belegos kneeling on the ground, covering his face with both hands. Her heart trembled with sympathy, seeing such a mighty elf crushed under the weight of some heavy grief that she could not know, for his burden was his own.
Young Eliriael had learned much following her mother, Elrinarë, as she healed. There were some hurts that could not be mended with bandages and salves. Belegos, she decided, would need flowers – perhaps more than she had ever collected and given in her entire life.
She looked down at the ground under her feet, trampled by many footsteps, but undisturbed in some patches. In one of the islands of grass, she found a lone star-petal flower, which she picked. Walking softly up to Belegos, she took one of his hands in her hers and looked gently at his face, which was dampened by the fall of his tears. She tucked the small white flower behind his ear, a solitary star against the sky that was his hair, and said to him, “Do not cry, Belegos. We are safe now.”
He nodded, repeating her words, though he seemed to echo them without full reassurance. Eliriael thought his eyes wavered, as if caught in some storm between loss and determined resolve. In his eyes, she saw the emotions that had no words. And no words could console his raging anguish.
She threw her arms around his neck without a thought and hugged him.
