Well, once you guys all get bios and stuff up, we can start.

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Knew she needed something else changing. Duh, Mel!

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((This good? Or to stupid?))


Name:Aesuthiel, of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin
Race:Noldorin
weapons:A long bow (called Beridhren) made of hollow steel, the origin of which is unknown. And a glaive made of blue steel.
Background:Sister to Glorfindel (He dies soon after their escape from Gondolin), chief of her house. She fought in the 'Battle of Unnumbered Tears', after her brother forbid her to do so. Ever since the battle it was as if she was stuck dumb. She hasn't spoken a word since then (Don't worry, after Glorfindel is killed she'll speak again). Hand-maiden to Idril Celebrindal, though she spend most her days reading whatever she can get her hands on and studying.
Personallity: Tactful, patient, scares some people with her silence.
Apperance: Aesuthiel has the golden hair of her family, and deep set dark eyes. Rather short for an elf Aesuthiel isn't much to look at, she lost her right ear in the 'Nirnaeth Arnoediad' and has the scar of a balrog whip curling up an arm. She bears the insignia of her house, a rising sun, on all her clothes and armor.

But there is one eception to that. In 'The Book ofLost Tales' vol.2, Tolkien discribes all the houses of Gondolin, and Egalmoth, chief of the house of the 'Heavenly Arch' alone of all the Noldoli bore a curved sword.

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Here's my bio

Name: Cúwë
Race: Noldor
Hair: Dark brown, shoulder length, usually tied out of his face
Eye color: Grey
Appearance: Tall, muscular, but thin
Weapon(s): Two-handed sword, bow and arrows, several daggers.
Background: Cúwë was born in Gondolin and trained to become a warrior at a young age.

Ah, good point, Morwen. I had forgotten about Egalmoth.

Yeah, your bio's fine, and so's yours, Elenya.

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So... when will we begin? I can't await it!

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I'm kind of eager to start it, too, but I'm going to give Deawen and Artinwe a little more time to post their bios before we start.

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*Is impressed* Wow, I wouldn't have known that

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Thankies! I was once pretty obsesced with the houses and clans of Gondolin.

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Lol, I haven't read The Book of Lost Tales 2 in about a year, but I remember pointing that fact about Egalmoth out to people. Gondolin is awesome, though - I loved that chapter in tBoLT2.

Okay, it doesn't really look like Deawen and Artinwe are going to post bios in here (soon, at least) so we might as well start.

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The rocks between had long since cut off the sight of their home, but the image was graven in his mind - Gondolin, fairest city of Middle-earth, lit with fire and covered with dark clouds of smoke, while Orcs and worse scurried back and forth in it, slaying those they found. In that city had been lost the greatest of their warriors, and their king.
Tears ran down the faces of the survivors, even down those of the staunchest warriors.
Sirithadar walked beside the long trail of women and children stumbling bleakly along, one of few warriors still alive, and possibly the only one from the House of the Fountain. His sword was sheathed, now, its white blade washed clean of the dark blood of orcs, but that had been done out of habit, whereas his bright hauberk and shield were darkened with dried blood. Nearby were others, elves he had known for long years. Cuwe (sorry, I don't have the button thing to change the 'u' or the 'e'), a young warrior of promising skill; and two oddities - Aesuthiel and Erana, both females, and yet warriors. Regardless of their gender, they both had fought valiantly, and he for one did not feel like telling them that fighting was a man's job. They had few enough combat-trained survivors as it was. Aesuthiel had not said a word in over thirty years, ever since the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, but she could hear well enough. Her brother was farther up in the line, Glorfindel, leader of the House of the Golden Flower, and the most valiant defender surviving except maybe for Tuor. Sirithadar's already tired and drawn face contorted into a sad grimace at the thought of their leader - stooped with wounds, dazed with loss, yet leading them onwards still. Sirithadar himself had only minor wounds, but he was one of the few.

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Erana walked with the small goup, her head downcast, she was deep in thoughts and so didn't watch her surroundings. She thought about what she has lost a few hours ago, her family and her friends, her beloved city of Gondolin. She had a deep cut on her left leg, but she ignored the pain and walked on. She didn't notice that her right hand still held her now broken and bloodstained sword tight and wouldn't let go.

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Aesuthiel stoped for one last look of their once beautiful city. She would have preferred to have died defending the city, but Idril had made her go. Turning back around she looked to see if any other elves of the Golden Flower house had survived. Two families and her brother was all that was left of their once great house. Sher ran wearily to catch up with her brother and put her hand in his, more for comfort than anything. He looked sadly at her. "Ah my sister, I see you at least survived." His voice was hoarse and he limped slightly. He withdrew his hand from her's and said, "Go, help someone more weary than me.' He motion to the long line of the wounded and small children that was steadily falling more and more behind. Aesuthiel nodded made the hand signal that she loved him.

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Atalante struggled to keep up with the others who led, her arms wrapped around herself as if to ward off the numbing grief. She had long since stopped wiping the tears away and her white face was tear-stained. She looked at the ground, unable to face the stricken faces of anyone else walking with her and trying desperately to block out of her mind the hideous sounds of Elves she'd known and loved dying around her.

Her only wound was a long scratch down her arm, when she had not been quick enough to dash for freedom - the orc that did it was dead, killed by her father. A fresh wave of tears threatened to come on at the thought of him and she wiped her eyes angrily, ashamed of herself.

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Aesuthiel walked past Atalante towards the back of the line. She caught sight of a small boy who had sat down and refused to get up dispite his sisters pleas. Aesuthiel knelt down and looked at the boy, his face was a mask of shock. "Please, he won't get up. He says he's going to wait here for mama, but shes dead." The boys sister looked pleadingly at her. Aesuthiel nodded and swung the boy up on her shoulders. "No I have to wait for mama! Put me down! Noooo.." The boy sobbed. "Be quite! Do you want the orcs to hear you and come after us?" His sister hissed. The boy shutup with a hiccup, and began winding his fingers in Aesuthiel's hair.

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Sirithadar's head still whirled with images of his city, his fair Gondolin, burning and crumbling; of fair warriors being hewn and cut down as they fought to the last man. Most of the rest of his House had died there, including his immediate Lord, Ecthelion. He had slain the dread Balrog, Gothmog, but had drowned in doing so, because he could not swim against the weight of his armor and with both of his arms disabled. That had been a grievous event, surpassed only by the fall of the King's Tower.
He lifted his gaze from the ground in front of him, and watched towards the front of the line, where Tuor, Glorfindel, and Legolas Greenleaf (for those who don't know, this is not the Mirkwood Legolas) led the refugees. As they rounded a bend, he saw Tuor step back and lift his axe, just as one of the wounded warriors threw himself in front of a woman of the city. As the elf fell to the ground, Sirithadar tossed his bow to Erana, who had a broken sword, and gave her his quiver as well, as gasps and screams ran down the line at the sight of the arrow in the chest of the now-dying warrior. "Ambush!" Sirithadar heard Tuor roar, as the leaders of the group came running back around the bend, to where other surviving warriors could help them. Behind them came Orcs, and judging from the heavy footsteps, something worse.

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