*coughs* Back at it again with my Turgon/Galdor agenda.
âI would protect you and I would love you until my dying breath.â
A good agenda to be on.
From this prompt list.
1 - âI would protect you and I would love you until my dying breath.â
No-one had seen the king in three days, not since he had returned from the outer mountains after being summoned their by one of Thorondorâs servants.
After another meeting where they had all been left shuffling their papers as TurukĂĄnoâs absence remained, the lords had assembled together and come to the conclusion that something had to be done.
âLĂłmion and I have both tried,â ItarillĂ« said, her face betraying her concern. âBut there was no answer. I know his meals are being eaten and a few of the servants have seen him but Iâm really beginning to get concerned.â
LĂłmion, as ever, hangs in ItarillĂ«âs shadow and nods his head in agreement.
Galdor was almost unanimously voted in as the next person to try for virtue of having known Turukåno for so long and he had never been able to say no to Itarillë when she made that face.
So that was how he ended up picking the lock to the bedroom of his greatest friend in the world, a cooling tray of dinner for the both of them on the floor beside him.
His hairpin - a begetting day present from Itarillë a few years ago - snaps in the lock and the two broken pieces fall into his open palm.
He swears and clambers to his feet in a huff. âYouâre impossible,â he says very loudly so that he knows TurukĂĄno will hear him. âI canât believe you proofed your lock against being picked.â
There is no answer.
âCome on Turvo, please let me in. The food will taste fine even if it is a bit cold.â
When TurukĂĄno doesnât answer that, Galdor accepts his defeat.
With a sigh he bends down to pick up the tray. âIâm going now. Iâll send someone up with your food. Please come out soon - weâre all worrying about you.â He pauses before admitting quietly. âIâm worried about you.â
He hovers there a moment before turning away, already planning his own evening plans.
Behind him, the door opens a crack. âGal?â
Galdor turns so fast he nearly spills lukewarm tea over the very nice carpets laid out on the floor.
TurukĂĄno hasnât seemingly got dressed today and from how rumpled his nightshirt and hair is, Galdor thinks that he hasnât changed since he first locked himself away.
The rest of him doesnât look much better: his hair is in disarray, his shoulders slumped and his eyes are rimmed in black and red from a lack of sleep and what Galdor can only suppose is crying.
âOh Turvo,â he says and slips past him into the room to put the tray down on the table. Turvo follows his movement with tired eyes, hugging the doorpost seemingly for support and only moving when Galdor comes right up and gently coaxes him to sit on the edge of the bed.
He shuts the door and takes a seat beside him. He lays a hand on the bedcovers so TurukĂĄno has some support should he choose to take it.
âWhatâs wrong?â Galdor asks quietly and waits in the silence for TurukĂĄno to answer.
He eventually says, in a hoarse voice, âAtto is dead.â
Galdor feels all his insides go cold. âDead?â He repeats softly.
âHe went to face Morgoth alone.â TurukĂĄnoâs face twists momentarily into disgust and hatred before it settles back into impassivity. âThorondor says heâŠhe managed to maim him but he was defeated, ultimately. IâŠummâŠI had to send a letter to Finno.â
TurukĂĄnoâs hand creeps over to rest on Galdorâs as he speaks.
âI hate that Iâm the one who has to tell him. Finno is going toâŠhate being high king.â He doesnât mention that telling your only remaining brother your father just died is a task nigh on impossible to do at all well.
TurukĂĄno falls silent then, squeezing Galdorâs hand and staring at the opposite wall.
âPeople leave,â he says softly, just as Galdor thinks that he has finished speaking, âand they stay gone.â
âI wonât. Iâm staying here.â Galdor turns around and takes TurukĂĄnoâs hand more firmly in his. âI swore myself into your service and I would protect you and love you until my dying breath.â
âNo,â TurukĂĄno says sharply, looking up to meet Galdorâs gaze, the edges of kingship coming back into his stature, âyou can do anything but die. You do not leave me too.â
âIâŠâ Galdor starts, then trails off at the intensity of emotion he can see in TurukĂĄnoâs eyes.
âSwear it. Swear you will not die for me.â
They stare at each other, eyes locked together, for a long moment.
âThat would go against my oath of lordship,â Galdor says eventually.
But if it will make you happy, he adds silently as finally all façade of being ok slips off like an ill-fitting cloak and TurukĂĄno pitches forward to son into Galdorâs shoulder, I would go against that oath a thousand times over.















