Title: Of Huor of the House of Hador
Book/Source: The Silmarillion
Disclaimer: Tolkien's the genius, not me.
Note: This is...very late, for the Terms of Address challenges, which is why I'm posting all the drabbles at once; it was also written for the SWG New Directions challenge.
Prince Fingon came upon them suddenly, astride the most splendid horse Huor had ever seen. He was still small, so the prince seemed very large indeed, and resplendent even in hunting leathers, with ribbons of gold glinting in his dark hair. Galdor lifted Huor in his arms, so he did not have to crane his neck. Fingon spoke fairly and courteously, using the Elven tongue that Huor still struggled to wrap his tongue around.
He smiled at Huor. "And who is this young warrior?"
"My son, Huor."
"Well met, Huor son of Galdor."
Huor smiled back. "Well met, my lord.
"Hey! Where do you think you are going, my young friend?" Beleg Cúthalion caught Huor by his shirt collar. "You are too young for war, even by your own people's reckoning!"
Huor shrugged out of Beleg's grip. "I am as strong as Húrin," he protested, "and taller! I will not be left behind!"
"And what will I tell your mother if you get yourself killed?" Haldir asked.
Huor set his jaw. "Perhaps I will die in battle someday," he said, "but it will not be today."
There was weight behind his words, though he was but thirteen. Haldir relented.
Gondolin was amazing. Huor couldn't stop turning in circles as they were led through the streets. Such towers! Such fountains, and mosaics, and music! Húrin was little better, and their guides, Glorfindel of the Golden Flower and Ecthelion of the Fountain, smiled to see their astonishment.
They were met outside the palace by a golden-haired lady clad in pale blue. The elf-lords called her my lady and princess, and she smiled warmly at Huor and Húrin, greeting them with fair words, before leading them to her father, Turgon, and his sister-son Maeglin, who regarded them silently with dark, unreadable eyes.
Turgon came himself to bid them farewell, before the eagles carried them away out of Gondolin. "Maeglin bids me remind you of your promise," he said, "but I know you will not forget it."
"No, nor will we forget your kindness, my king," Húrin replied, bowing low. "Both in welcoming us and in allowing us to return to our home."
"We will meet again, O king," Huor said suddenly. "Of this I have no doubt."
Turgon looked at him with piercing eyes; he nodded, and stepped back as the eagles stooped. "May the stars light your path, sons of Galdor."
Huor woke to something soft falling into his eyes. He opened them to a world of pink, and it was only when he brushed them aside that he found flowers woven into his hair, and Rían at his side, laughing. "You're like a cat, my love," she told him, "always looking for a sunny spot to sleep."
"It's warm in the sun." Huor stretched lazily as Rían picked more wildflowers, weaving them deftly into a bright-colored wreath. "Unless you'd rather go inside."
Túrin decided for them, coming with a summons from Húrin. Fingon had put out a call to arms.
Fingon greeted them on the day of battle with a bright smile. "I have been blessed indeed in my captains," he said, clasping Huor's hand in both of his. "We will see victory on this field, I know it!"
It certainly seemed that they would. Bright colored banners flapped in the westerly breeze, and bright helms and glittering spears stretched around them as far as Huor could see. Beside him stood Húrin and his uncle Haldir.
But a black cloud hovered over Thangorodrim, and a feeling of foreboding struck him, even as the sun rose high in the pale sky.