Sting By John Evans

 Little is known of the history of the dagger of the ring  bearers Frodo and Bilbo named Sting before the blade was found by the company of Thorin in a troll lair. This short story is designed to at least begin a back round fore this blade that does not already exist. I will bring the dagger in to the fore front of the fall of Gondolin. Thank you
 
  Turgon high king of the elves of the hidden city of Gondolin stood in his personal bed chamber all alone searching threw a set of large books on a wide wooden table. The lights of dawn the gates of summer where drawing near but he was not going to go forth and join the merrymaking quite yet. Of late a shadow of dread threw out the early hours had struck his heart that he could not explain. Little did he guess the terrible onslaught that was about to unfold. Fore hundreds of years the city Gondolin stood against the forces of the enemy Morgoth and his servants the greatest of witch was Sauron and the dragons and none of the foes of the high elves had suffered to let these cruel beings of Angband find the hidden city of the Gondothrim. But all the fortunes of the king’s house where going to fall soon and unknown to the king or his advisors save Meiglin the traitor a host of Goblins and other evil creatures of the stronghold of the  black king of the North where headed to crush Gondolin and slay all its people leaving only ash and dust behind. Meiglin had been captured alone and brought to Morgoth and fore a price witch the dark lord would likely not fulfill that cursed elf revealed the location of Turgon’s hidden city and how it could be best overwhelmed in the fires of war. Now the king left his room hearing the noises of what seemed to be tumult and distress and upon meeting his guards he learned of the Orcs’ vicious attack and how there blissful home had now been tainted by the fires of Morgoth and the filth of the vial goblins and the terror of the ruthless Balrogs with there whips of death. Soon a battle was joined of witch many tales have been told, of how the rallied forces of the Gondothrim fought the enemy valiantly, how they where driven back to there city, and at last how Meiglin was slain by Tuor the king’s friend and  husband Idril Turgon’s daughter. Tuor had been sent by Ulmo lord of waters to warn the elves but there king would not listen and though he was  wise and brave he  would not allow his beloved Gondolin to be abandoned fore the sea where white ships would bare them out of the fray to safety if the Valar whom they had defied would allow them to return. Now tuor had long guessed that his blissful life with Idril and there son Earendil the half elven would not last and he counseled with his wife as to what to do in case the city fall. Secrets ways where prepared that might lead thence to the lands outside the hidden realm and of this Meiglin knew naught until the sack of the city. Now to better guard the king smiths had made many weapons long ago and Turgon’s sword Glamdring was a wonder to behold. How it shone blue warning the approach of foes like all blades of that legendary kingdom no mortal can now say but it is said that one dagger was made fore Ecthellian lord of the fountain most trusted of all the Gondothrim in the king’s proud heart save fore the son of Huor whom he admired with reverence immeasurable.  as elves hurried to defend themselves to the last Ecthellian’s friend  Glorfindel stumbled a cross Turgon shining in a brilliant white  robe amidst the terror of the foe baring his sword to the heavens crying to his soldiers “Mighty is the fall of Gondolin” and all shuttered fore that same turn of fraise was used by Mandos in the prophecy of the North long ago though few understood those words. Now bitterly did Glorfindel curse his choice to leave Valenor on a fool’s errand when the burning wrath of Feanor was still most unquenchable by any prudence. Coming to his king’s side baring his comrade’s blue blade he said “My lord Turgon Ecthellian is slain and I will leave with Tuor if I can to protect them from the might of our enemies.” “You may do so my friend and most cherished of captains who have stood at my side in battles that shall never be forgotten” grimly murmured the lord of the city looking carefully at Glorfindel’s eyes. “”now that Ecthellian is slain there remains little hope fore victory so do what you can O most blessed of all my servants and keep well my daughter and Tuor the bold.” “I will my king do ask you command” replied the elf of the guard. “Will you take Ecthellian’s blade fore your safety” asked Glorfindel bestowing the shining blade now even brighter then before in a gesture of grate respect baring the blade itself and allowing the hilt to remain open fore the grasping hand. Slipping in the elf’s tight grip the blue blade dug in to the soft white skin and red blood came dripping down like tears freely flowing to the tiled floor bellow. “See now that you bleed I should hold your offer now more as an oath a blood oath witch I must take with you in the memory of the lord of the silver fountain” proudly spoke Turgon now pointing out his captain’s small but curious injury. Taking the hilt of that dagger the king of the Gondothrim lifted the blade in his free hand fore he still bore his sword and in one swift movement hardly visible to mortal sight both blue blades sank in to leather sheaths hung at a wide belt. Turgon’s own blade of the same size and shape as Ecthellian’s dagger had clattered down the stares of his dwelling place rushing to bring order to his retreating elf warriors beaten and still filled with hatred fore there oppressive foe that clamored ever nearer like a black wave at who’s edges sprung not  foam but torrents of bursting flame.  glorfindel left saluting his king and left with Tuor some time after Turgon fell in his tower while the city crumbled about him as I will now recount as well as I now can. Seeing his elf lords now  completely demoralized by there fighting the king ascended the many steps of his white tower tears running down his face followed by only two guards of his own household. Upon reaching a landing the guards asked “Who shall lead us now sire?” “Tuor will guide the Gondothrim” bluntly gurgled the overcome king. “but others would rather die then let you fall my lord” protested the two elf’s of Turgon’s house looking grave and deadly serious. “Let them go if they wish but allow them to stay if death seems the lesser of the evils” snapped the father of Idril now regaining his composure. “Go at once and tell them this” barked Turgon now looking fearless and mad and the two guards submitted to there lord’s wishes and left. Reaching then the summit of the mountainous tower the king then strode out upon a high ledge and peered down. There far bellow where many elven warriors fighting and dying and about them hundreds of others besides who would not leave. Seeing there lord king the elves shouted war cries and threats to the goblins but the servants of Morgoth even the countless Balrogs only laughed bitterly. Then came a beast of the brood of Glaurung and it rapped its tail around the complex of the tower and there was a grate moaning and a shrieking from both the dying folk of the last Noldorin stronghold of song of the elder days and the crushed stone. After sundering the foundations of the building the dragon and a few other vial beasts finally ate away the last ties that tower had to the earth and Turgon and his white lofty stronghold fell with a resounding boom that shook the ruins of Gondolin. Thus perished the lord of the city of seven names who’s last stand has become a legend both terrible and sorrowful among the Eldar. As the crowds of Orcs and other folk of Morgoth searched the ruins the following day only a few stray wonderers noticed that the body of the king was missing his sword and small dagger. Glamdring and the dagger of Turgon where stolen by the goblins. Fore thousands of years those blades traveled along side Ocerist witch was also robbed from its ancient owner until those Orcs where in turn robbed by there comrades who traveled thence to the wastes of the lands of the blue mountains where dwarves attacked them and all where slain. Thousands of years afterwards three clumsy trolls would be digging some of there stolen treasure out side one of there lairs and would stumble across these blades and bring them with them until there demise in the Low lands close to Imladris where we still sing and cry of the deeds of the Gondothrim. Ocerist was taken by Thorin Okenshield, Glamdring by the renown wizard Gandalf, and that dagger was taken by the hobbit Bilbo who named it “Sting.” Now all is told and the prehistory of the blade known as “sting” revealed. May the memory of Turgon king of Gondolin never fade. What Glorfindel thought  when he saw his friend’s dagger and the other blades of Gondolin in Rivendil after returning from the West none can say.