Of The Fountain

Chapter Three: The Choice With the Least Regrets

Playing the flute was far harder than it looked, and Ecthelien was oddly glad to be in the middle of a forest with only the nice lady for company. Anybody else would have probably covered their ears at the sounds escaping the musical instrument loaned to her. It was a beautiful flute – likely wasted on her and all her seeming lack of talent. But even those horrible screeching sounds took her mind off the thoughts about her future. Learning to play the flute was a relief. It sent all her worries to the back of her mind, and it made her forget about everything aside from the beauty of the forest around them. She wasn't concerned with running back to her mother and father. In fact, she didn't want to. She was scared to return to the rest of her kin. How was she supposed to face them without an answer as to how she'd face the future for them?

How was she supposed to pawn off the responsibility of killing Gothmog onto another random elf? The Lord of the Balrogs was a mighty opponent – a fallen Maia – and one of the key figures in Morgoth's army. How would the War of Wrath fare if he didn't fall in the Great City of Gondolin? Would the Valar lose if Sauron's equal was still alive to turn the tide of battle?

She swallowed thickly. Her part was by no means small. Her hands shook, flute falling back to her side as she took a break from however many days of practice she'd done in the seclusion of the forest. Her music sounded slightly better than it had at the very beginning, so she'd spent her time at least somewhat wisely. Time meant little to the Eldar, so she only hoped her parents weren't worrying too much already. She hadn't been gone too long. A few months at most. Who was she kidding? They totally were. She was just being selfish. Being cowardly. Ecthelion wasn't supposed to be like that. He was said to be one of the greatest elves in both valour and strength.

But she wasn't Ecthelion exactly. She was Ecthelien.

"It is not a cowardly thing to be scared." A warm hand ruffled through her locks, and her bright grey eyes looked up to meet the dazzling green ones. "Courage is not the absence of fear. It is simply the strength and will to push past that which frightens you so," she spoke, as if reading her very mind. "As long as you keep moving forward you are no coward, Ecthelien."

"But... what if I cannot do that which I am meant to..."

The nice lady tilted her head, a bemused smile on her lips. "What you are meant to do is not preordained, little one," she said, gently prying the flute from her small fingers. "That which you are capable of can only be decided by you, and you alone."

Ecthelien bit her lip as she sat on the little rock ledge overlooking the silvery lake, her short legs dangling over the edge, toes only inches away from getting wet. "I do not understand."

"Do you truly not?"

She stared up into those narrowed green eyes that flickered with knowledge and power. "No."

"Ah, you are still just a fledgling, so that is to be expected... and yet your fëa radiates so much sorrow for one so young." A soft sigh escaped her lips, almost lost on the gentle breeze that flooded through the clearing. And yet the silvery waters were unaffected, seeming as still and unmoving as ever. "The song it sings is unlike any I have heard before, and it whispers to me that Eru himself had a hand in your creation. Why do you think I had the fireflies guide you here, little lamb?"

Ecthelien swallowed.

"You are but a little lost lamb stumbling around trying to find your legs beneath you, and unlike the rest of your kin you need but a little guidance... and guidance is what me and my kin are here for," she said, and Ecthelien shivered as she came to an abrupt realisation. The lady in front of her was no human, nor was she of elf-kind. "Do not look so scared. I mean you no harm, little one. None of our number would dare to raise a hand against such a small little elfling."