Notes:

Gaeldagnir (sindarin) = gael (pale/shimmering) + dagnir (slayer)

Tinnusul (sindarin) = tinnu (dusk, twightlight) + sul (wind)

Taurandir (sindarin) = taur (forest) + randir (wanderer)

Doltmegil (sindarin) = dolt (dark, dusky, obscure) + megil (sword)

Taurlothiel (sindarin) = taur (forest) + loth (blossom) + iel (feminine patronymic suffix)

Lúrëndil (quenya) = lúrë (dark weather) + ndil (friend)

amilessë apacenyë (quenya) = "mother-name of foresight" – a rare occurrence when a name was given to the child from a vision of his or her special fate that the mother received in the hour of birth.

                                                        Quenta Gaeldagnir

Gaeldagnir was born during the First Age amongst the mists of Hithlum. His father, Lúrëndil, was one of the Noldor who followed Fingolfin through the deadly wastes of Helcaraxe and settled around the shores of Lake Mithrim. As his father, Gaeldagnir was tall and well-built, his long hair dark as the moonless sky and his heart a roaring wildfire. Taurlothiel was Gaeldagnir’s mother, an elven maiden of Telerin descent who belonged to the Grey Elves of Beleriand. She had pale skin and iridescent eyes, which appeared grey on the lake-shores, but vividly green in the woods of Beleriand. Her silvery hair resembled the glow of Telperion, which Lúrion loved so dearly… Gaeldagnir inherited the pale skin and shimmering eyes from Taurlothiel, as well as his love to the creations of Yavanna and Elbereth.  Taurlothiel named her son Gaeldagnir, perhaps foreseeing his grief-stricken fate, while Lúrëndil named the young elf Tinnusul.

Gaeldagnir spent his early youth scouting the hidden paths of Ered Wethrin, learning sword-craft from his father, while Taurlothiel taught him the language spoken by forests and mountain streams. During the rare times when the western wind cleared the sky of the night fog, Gaeldagnir could spend hours staring at the distant radiance of the starry sky - no sight was dearer to him than the gobelin Elbereth has woven above Arda. Tinnusul was young and full of life, eager to explore and learn. The elf was calm, thoughtful, and confident, he knew how to listen and nobody has seen a spark of anger in his eyes…until the war brought fire, death and ruin to Beleriand and devouring fury to his heart... However, unlike many Noldor, Gaeldagnir was never affected by pride and haughtiness was unknown to him. He remembered the words his father told him once: ‘Pride is like the waves on a mountain mire, calm them and only then you will see the enchanting reflection of the night sky, covered in stars’.

  Geldagnir’s sword has tasted the foul orcish blood for the first time during the battle of Dagor Aglareb and was not kept in its sheath for long ever since. Lúrëndil and Taurlothiel perished in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, leaving Gaeldagnir one on one with overwhelming battle-fury, which took the lives of uncounted enemies yet almost drove the young elf to his demise. He kept his spirit in the Middle Earth by a narrow margin, being led to the Hidden City where he was able to heal his ravenous wounds. A hundred moons have passed before he regained his strength and was able to hold his sword and bow as firm as he did before the battle, yet the marks left by the fires of Angband have remained. For his deeds in Dagor Nírnaeth Arnoediad, Gaeldagnir was invited to join the House of the Tree and after some hesitation he accepted the honor. There he forged Doltmegil - blade of the dusk, dark patterns dancing along its razor-sharp edges. There the fire that once blazed in his heart was rekindled, now driven by hatred and wrath. Moreover, Gaeldagnir felt burdened by the splendor of the Turgon’s refuge amongst the burning Beleriand, and the blood-thirsty Doltmegil felt burdened by its rune-embroidered sheath.

The heavy silence which loomed above the White City was soon broken by thousand orcish drums beating their black song of doom. And doom came indeed – fire and death was brought to the City of Turgon by hordes of orcs and wolves, by mighty dragons and fallen Maiar with blazing whips. There Gaeldagnir fought valiantly side by side with Galdor and the remnants of Gondothlim amidst flame and ruin. Many Eldar were fated to see the grim face of Mandos that night, but Gaeldagnir was not one of them. The First Age was near its end. Beleriand bled and burned. Dragonfire flickered in the eyes of gael dagnir as he danced his dance of death, Doltmegil in his hand, until the world shattered.

***

Lindon, Land of the Singers, was Gaeldagnir's home in the beginning of the Second Age. Among wild forests of Gil-Galad's realm he wandered, often singing with the Green Elves on moonlit clearings and sea-shores beneath the stars. Embraced by the wonders of Yavanna, Gaeldagnir was born again: as a forest comes back to life with the coming of a new spring, the raging winterstorm inside him gave way to a gentle vespertine wind. There his wounds, deeper than any steel blade can cut, wounds hidden in the hollows of his soul, wounds which were torturing the elf for years, began to heal. Tinnusul or Taurandir was he called in the lands of Harlindon, yet the Noldor still remembered his amilessë apacenyë. In Lindon, watchful birds and ancient trees have taught him more than the archives of the High Elves, which he visited also. For many years, the tapestry of Elbereth, made of shimmering stars, was his roof and the soft forest floor, covered in fragrant wild flowers, was his bed. Yet, however joyful were those years, Tinnusul kept Doltmegil sharp and oiled, knowing that one day the dagnir will whirl in the war dance - such was his fate.

                                                                                                                                           And the war came. After over a millennium Gaeldagnir again felt the weight of plate armour on his shoulders as well as the heavier anticipation of battle in the air. And he was ready. Gaeldagnir fought in the Noldor army under the command of Elrond Half-elven, tasting everything the War had to offer: sizzling fury, gore and grief. Elrond was forced to retreat; then he found Imladris – the hidden elven fortress in the East. During his short stay in the Elrond’s refuge, Gaeldagnir felt restless and gloomy – even rare stars which appeared between smoke and clouds could not brighten neither his mood, nor the mood of the remnants of the Noldor army which was sent to the East. Three years later Sauron was caught between the Eldar of Imladris and the great army of Númenoreans, who forced him to flee in humiliation. Sauron’s armies were crushed, but his anger and hatred has only flared up. Eriador was cleansed, yet laid in ruin. After the War of the Elves and Sauron Gaeldagnir returned to Imladris. He became the leader of a small scout troop, which consisted of his trusted friends – all masters of tracking, ambushing, marksmanship and sword-craft. They spent little time in the safety of the hidden stronghold, venturing to the darkened north, to the far southern wastes and ancient forests in the east. Those times were not as peaceful as the wondrous years spent in Lindon, yet he felt at home in the Middle Earth. Looming peaks of the Misty Mountains, covered by snow like old wise men; great trees in the realm of Oropher, whispering ancient songs; and the echo of the shining West, laying far from the roaring sea, – Laurelindórenan, made Tinnusul resistant to despair. Like Silvan Elves sing their ancient hymns to the stars, the beauty of Arda made his soul sing and marvel, at least in the rare nights when the world was still.

When the Second Age was near it’s end, Gaeldagnir returned to Imladris to prepare for the upcoming great war. Flaming forge, anvil and hammer were his closest companions for the next three years. Though he did not make many swords, each of them were strong and graceful like the mighty Bruinen and spilled rivers of orcish blood in the next mournful years. When the tired mallet was resting on its oak stand, Gaeldagnir and the members of his scouting party were aiding the alliance to plan the route for the army, through the treachery passes of the Misty Mountains. Soon the armies of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men marched towards the blackened south. Burned wastes of Dagorlad, colossal Morannon and looming Barad-dûr they faced beneath pitch-black clouds of smoke. Gil-Galad, Elendil, Anárion, and thousands of others, Eldar and men, fell like summer grasses fall under the reaper’s scythe. Broken Narsil in the hand of Elendil’s heir made the light burst through the never-ending darkness by casting the Dark Lord into the void…Singers make great songs of valiant heroes and noble warriors, of courageous battles and sweet victories. But there’s no happiness in any war nor in any victory, only merciless death, flame, ruin and wounded hearts left hollow forever.

    ***

Like autumn comes to the forests of Arda, the Third Age of the Middle Earth came upon Gaeldagnir. The elf did not come back to the service of Elrond, but wandered to places far and unhospitable, offering aid to those who needed it. He fought in the cruel battles of the Angmar War side by side with Eldar and men and he danced with Nandor elves beneath the green oak trees in the East… He ambushed parties of orcs in Mirkwood, coming under the cover of darkness and he sung with Galadhrim on the golden mellyrn… Dolmegil drunk blood like wine and almost seemed to lead Galedagnir in the very heat of battle, while gentle singings of wild birds welcomed him to forests and valleys like old friends. He was a Noldo during war and a Sinda when surrounded by the children of Yavanna. Gaeldagnir did not try to choose between the two; he knew that night comes after a bright day and even the mightiest cannot change their fate. The evil has not given up, Gaeldagnir could feel it even in Galadriel’s peaceful realm. It lurked and scouted, laid traps and openly attacked. Old trees, proud eagles, nimble foxes, and watchful stags…they all were feeling it, the Earth herself was feeling it. The last battle is yet to come, the fate of the Middle-Earth is uncertain…but Gaeldagnir is ready. Ready to share the burden of war one last time before coming back to realm he has only seen in his dreams.