Genre: Humor

Rating: G

Summary: Ulmo had only one term for that golden-haired Adan: “My beloved, exasperating, faithful, annoying boy…”

Story Notes: References taken from the chapter Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin from The Silmarillion. There are also dialogues taken verbatim from the aforementioned chapter, done in italics. And this “storylet” was also inspired by one of Fiondil’s many stories, while also being a gift for him.

Author’s Notes: I just had to write this! This particular chapter in The Silmarillion was both so grim and so humorous… Each stage of Tuor’s journey would fill a section here, as many as the limited length would allow, focusing on what (and how) Ulmo thought of him or his actions. (I giggled madly when writing most of these sections.) Beware of sarcasm aplenty! Well, because of the limited length and the nature of the idea, the form of narration is also fragmented.

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If incarnated, Ulmo would be fidgeting now. Tuor was tarrying in Dor-Lómin.

And the fool! – That lad was singing and playing his harp where all could hear and see… What was in that rock he called head?

*

"So my hope has cheated me! The sign in the hills has led me only to dark end in the midst of the land of my enemies."

– What?! How dare he–?

But Ulmo himself must not lose his own purpose. And so, with a quiet whisper to the two passing Elves, he nudged them into the lad’s direction.

He felt an inexplicable pleasure though, when Tuor heeded the instructions of the two Elves and went without fear into the river-tunnel, sleeping peacefully by the water-vein, believing that the power of the water would safeguard him.

*

The lad was singing and playing his harp – again. Would he just please go on without tarrying needlessly like this? His voice was sweet though, and his harping was skilful, and he was praising the leaping and churning water before him…

Well, but the ravine would be flooded came morning. As pleasurable as it was to hear him sing, Ulmo must warn him—

"It is a fay-voice," the lad mused aloud on hearing the sound of the seagulls. And then, "Nay, it is a small beast that is wailing in the waste"; and then"Surely, it is the cry of some nightfaring bird that I know not."

— Good… Keep guessing and spend the night doing so, just in time to be swallowed by the tide…

*

"Here now comes another sign that I have tarried too long!"

— Ah, lad!…

But at least he went again, crossing Nevrast to the sea, following those swans.

*

And finally! – The lad was there, bowing to his incarnate form, and Ulmo at last got the chance to greet him directly… Silly Tuor, he did not have to prostrate himself like that, though. Why did the lad fear him now, while he had not before?

Oh well; he could interrogate the Adan later.