1. Utúlie'n Aurë
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien. I just like to play with it.Utúlie'n Aurë
He knew. Somewhere deep within himself, he knew it was over long before the cries of victory began. The relief pushed the apprehension, fear and doubt from him like a river shoves the last icy remainders of winter downstream, and in its wake, left him almost boneless. He sank to his knees on the balcony overlooking the tumbling water of the falls that danced down the rocks of the dale - the place that reminded him of his last home in Ennor, one with fountains and flowers, a mixture of stone and green.
The door to his room burst open. He heard the wood bounce off the wall and the rustle of fabric, though he kept his eyes on the falls, his tears joining their dance.
And still he knelt, letting the peace of knowing it was done wash over his soul.
"They did it," the whisper came from beside him, and he felt a body lower itself next to him, an arm reaching out to lay across his shoulders, hesitating, them pulling him closer. "It is over!"
He smiled, closing his eyes and leaning into his friend. For a moment, he was drawn back to another time and place. That day, they had not won. That day, there had been tears unnumbered. Yet, the cry felt right.
"Utúlie'n aurë! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlie'n aurë! Auta i lómë!" he whispered into the mists rising from the falling water.
His friend startled; he could feel the jump at his words. Then a laugh. "It is fitting," Erestor said, "but was it not said louder than that? I cannot remember, as I was learning to use the chamber pot at the time."
He laughed at that. Oh, what a terror his friend would have been as a toddler! An image came to mind of Estel at that age. He had found the boy crying in a garden and had knelt to discover what had happened. Estel had wrapped small arms around his neck, sticky fingers tangling in his hair. There was a mumbled 'I ha' a accident' that he had not understood until he picked the boy up, and Estel's trousers soaking his favorite robes brought awareness of what the 'accident was.
Yes, Erestor would have been just as troublesome at that age, though time had changed his friend from the rambunctious youth he had known in his past life into the quiet scholar kneeling at his side. Just as time had changed a mischievous little boy into a noble man who would soon be king.
Nodding, Glorfindel raised his voice, and the words echoed off the cliff faces.
"Utúlie'n aurë! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlie'n aurë! Auta i lómë!"
"The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men, the day has come! The night is passing!"
And over the valley of Imladris, the cry was taken up, echoing again and again. For a new morning would dawn on the world, now that evil was defeated.
Ennor - Middle-earth
A/N - The words Glorfindel say are taken from Fingon, son of Fingolfin, at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears.
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