Tianwen·Magweth Pengolodh

seven times.In Romenna, you will see many strange things, and even Fastito Calon occasionally comes to cruise in the port, but none of them can be compared with the festivities like Letale. "

Pengolod stopped pacing: "That makes sense. In that case, I was overly vigilant. I have experienced the malice of a prince before, and that is no small matter."

Alfwine couldn't help but twitched the corners of his mouth and pulled his beard: "I have another reason to like you. By now, I already know that you always hide wonderful stories. You who are related Is the story of the wicked prince suitable to be told at dinner?" Alfwine said as he stood up.

Pengolod suddenly realized that he was also gradually understanding his friend's way of doing things.By this time he also knew: Alfwine had his own pride and didn't want Pengolod to help; he'd better go downstairs quickly and let Alfwine take his time.He didn't wait long for his companion to follow, and he only had time to think about some unspeakable tacit understanding in this friendship.It's still a mystery to him - why some hit it off and others fall apart.If it hadn't been so mysterious, he thought, I might have gotten along better with Maeglin back then.

****

As I mentioned, there is a nobleman who does not like me.To explain what this is all about, I need to tell you a little bit more about the place where all this happening—Gondolin.

When I last spoke of Gondolin, I told you that Rumir prophesied that Princess Aredil would return to the city.Not long after his prophecy, we scholars of Gondolin did the great work of writing as much history and lore as possible for the royal library.The library, with its thousands of books and scrolls, is as spectacular as it has ever been before or since.We have combined the talents of the Eldar with the innovations of the Sindarin, and it took us centuries to accomplish our task.Some of the people who assisted us changed careers, but I accepted the positions of librarian clerk and overseer, and Roumil was in charge - nominally in charge.

Rumir didn't come to Central Continent just to be an honest custodian.He always wanted to go out and explore, gain new wisdom and knowledge.At first the great challenge of writing books to fill Turgon's bookshelves was gratifying to him, but when the task was accomplished his spirits sank and his body weakened.Our elves' souls and bodies are closely linked.I secretly think that part of Rumir's new-found sternness is due to the fact that he is in Gondolin, where almost everything he sees is beautiful, and the hardships and pains are fading into the depths of his memory.I later understood that it was what he saw during the divination that brought him grief and weariness.At that time, I only found out that Rumir lived in seclusion and spent most of his time in his private room.

Eighty years later, Rumir's prophecy to Idril was fulfilled.Aredil returned indeed, and stood before Turgon's throne.She got married during her sojourn and brought her son, Maeglin, who was old enough to grow up.But things backfired, and her husband Eol followed her.In front of the throne, Eol was so angry that he tried to kill his son, but killed Aretil by mistake.Turgon ordered Eol to be executed in atonement, and Maeglin had no objection to this.What a series of incomprehensible horrors has seemed to us folk of Gondolin, and we are deeply saddened by it.

My sister Hingo Thiel has raised four children and has been in the business of keeping track of family ties.She took out her own records, to see if we could trace this Eol's background through the various tribes of the Sindarin, but we did not, nor did anyone we asked.I've never seen Eol, but the town says that Maeglin looks like his father with only black eyes and black hair.I met him a week after he came and got a taste of his style and his personality.

Our lord Turgon took an immediate liking to Maeglin.His nephew recalled in countenance and manner the proud and fierce beauty of his sister Arentil, and Turgon thought Maeglin's sternness well suited.Maeglin will have all the princely privileges that he was born to have.Turgon appointed his chief blacksmith to be his tutor, and bade him be shown the city over which he had a right to rule.

It was during this visit that Meglin was introduced to the library's studio.On the day he came to see us, I was busy gluing new covers on old books, so he and his entourage found me wearing a stained apron and my worst shirt.The only thing I'm good looking about is my hair (although that's what I call myself) but back then I pulled it back and braided it in a braid I learned from my Sindar father Habit.

Maeglin's mentor is a senior artisan, and he introduced me with respect.However, the new nobleman didn't raise his eyelids at me. To be honest, I didn't think there was anything unusual about it.There was an indifferent look in his midnight-black eyes, which did not hide boredom at all.He was dressed in courtly splendor, even half armor, and carried a sword, so he stayed away from my glue jar.It wasn't until the Chief Blacksmith added, "He's half Sindarin like you, Your Highness," that Maeglin began to pay attention to me.Hearing this, he looked me up and down.

It is often impossible to say anything sensible when meeting people of great disparity in status.I asked Maeglin: "My lord, how did you find Gondolin?"

Maeglin said flatly, "My dead mother brought me here." The head blacksmith and I both cringed at the answer.His sharp eyes fixed on me: "You're a scholar. What does that mean? Were you ever my mother's servant? She reads and writes at the top of my father's family."

I refrained from flinching again, because Aretil's calligraphy is not generally bad.I dodge the second question, tell him I teach, write, know more than one bookkeeping skill, and explain what I was doing that day.His languid attitude returned once McGlynn realized that I apparently had nothing to say about his mother.When I heard the sound of Rumir's crutch approaching from a distance, I was relieved, and quickly put an end to my unwelcome monologue: "The man who leads all the scholars under Turgon's command is coming soon. In the past, he taught past your mother."

"Excellent," said Maeglin in a tone of haughty approval.

Rumir was fine that day, and I heard him for a while before he came. "Pengolod, nice to meet you. What's the fuss? There are guests on the day of Sticking Books? It's a pity that you people didn't come later. We will bring out the wine later." It was midsummer, Rumir had taken off his cloak and hood in the back room of the library.All his scars and ugliness are plain to see.

Meglin was clearly taken aback.He was dumbfounded, backed away in a panic, and then clenched the hilt of his sword.His guide hastened to intervene, introduced Rumir to him, praised my teacher's well-deserved wisdom and courage, and said apologetically, "My lord, this is Maeglin, son of Aredil. You know, He just came to our city."

Rumir looked at Maeglin with his good eye: "Yes, you must be. Your appearance——" The young elf nobleman still stared at him in horror. manner.He said haughtily, "It's a great honor to have you here." Then he said to me, "I'll be back shortly, and we have some business to attend to. My lord, let me take my leave." He left gracefully.

Maeglin and his guide chatted for a moment in low voices, hissing.Embarrassed by his fear and loathing, Maeglin was blaming the hapless man for not warning him beforehand.Stirring the bubbling glue over the small fire, I tried not to listen to them until someone cleared their throat and said, "Lord Pengolod, thank you for your time." killed me, and his guide tried to take him away before Rumir returned.

Before going out, Maglin looked back at me.Calm and sharp again, he asked, "Has anyone given permission to tie your hair like this?" His own black hair was braided in the same way, but not as long as mine.

"No approval is required, Your Highness. This approach is typical Sindarin custom—I remember my Sindarin father braiding my hair when I was a child," I said, trying to show that the thing no one ever questioned was There is nothing wrong with it.

Meglin looked at me with the corners of his mouth slightly raised.He looked at the blacksmith who showed him the way—the blacksmith had short hair, or should I say shoulder-length cut like yours.Then, looking at me again, without further ado, he picked up a pair of large scissors nearby and cut off his long braid four inches below the nape of his neck.Both of us bystanders gasped.

Meglin carelessly dropped the severed braid into the brazier where I heated the glue. "Since this is the custom here, no one will mistake me for Sindar or a servant." He shook the rest of his hair, looking relieved.The hair, freed from the weight of its length, was slightly curled, and the black hair lined around his face, softening his expression. "Master Blacksmith, come, let's go. We don't need to see potters and jewelers. I am eager to see the furnace again." I was busy fanning away the black smoke from Maeglin's charred hair, but I didn't pay attention them