#open thread starter

[[From the Thirty Day Character Study. I think it makes a poor starter, but I can’t think where else to put it, so: you have it.]]

Salgant inspected himself in the mirror with a critical eye. He liked to dress well - was expected to dress well, as a Lord of Gondolin - and certainly the tailors of the Heavenly Arch were masters of their craft, but there was no disguising the fact that he was just not handsome by the standards of Sinda and Noldo alike. Height, of course, was prized among the Noldor, and Salgant was not just noticeably short, he was notably short. (The children of his tiny hometown were never tall.) The Sinda prized a lissome figure, if not a tall one, and there too Salgant tended toward the stout. (It kept the cold off, everyone back home said.) And no one thought a leg brace and a cane were comely, no matter how well-wrought the Hammer could make them. (It had been a stupid mistake on the Ice, but Noldor healing had saved his life and even his foot.) Aside from that, he had the ash-blond hair, light golden skin, and almond-shaped eyes common to the Teleri; it wasn't an unpleasant combination, but neither was it remarkable, being similar to the typical Sinda coloration.

Well, there was no need for a Lord of Gondolin to be as handsome as Glorfindel or Ecthelion! Indeed, Salgant wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he had fair young maidens throwing themselves in his path, as the more handsome unwed Lords did. He’d probably trip over them. He had never been inclined to marriage or even dalliances, though from time to time he thought he’d might like children of his own. He’d have to settle for spoiling Idril’s child and Galdor’s brood. In fact, Galdor had shorted the Harp’s lumber quota again; perhaps Salgant would teach his children how to drum.

"Yes, I was 'fain to do battle from an impregnable fortress.' Of course I was! That's literally - that's why fortresses are built in the first place!

"I still cannot believe everyone else wanted to flee before Gondolin's walls were even tested. Leave our stronghold, all our supplies, and do what? Be encircled and overtaken without them? Ugh!" Salgant throws up his hands in frustration. “We were well-prepared for a siege, and I should know, for I had the tallying of those matters.

Salgant, far from being a Lord in Valinor, has been reimbodied into much the same life that he had left behind: that of a humble fishmonger in Alqualonde. He has no shame about being a fisherman, the rough hands and coarser clothing - how could he? He lives in the north with his family again, and that is a great gift. Though part of him wanted to see his fellow Lords or Turgon again, a much stronger part of him can’t stand the thought. Maybe those rumors of cowardice aren’t too far from the mark after all.