"it cannot have been my skill, for I saw you fall on the couch. You breathed only with great effort, and though I did what I could, soon you stopped. Mark these words as true, you died before my eyes, and despairing I left you there."
"Yet before you I now stand, and have not I ever been devoted to bringing us to Tasarinan, though the way every seemed hard and full of orcs?"
Bright light came into Duilin's eyes, and he fingered Ringil in a new belt which he now wore. He seemed to grow restless, and then standing moved as if to leave, then turned. His gaze fell upon Idril, and for a moment was stayed. Then the light went out of his eyes, and he drew Ringil from his belt slowly. He walked to Ëarendil, and knelt before him. He raised Ringil and bowed his head, then spoke,
"This blade I bore by the command of Thorondor for but one purpose: that I may deliver it to you, who in turn might present it to the Valar. For you shall stand before them, and you shall make them see what has become of Middle earth. Take now this sword, the most keen but also the hardest, which bites like ice, but you shall not use it for that. Nay! You shall present it to the Valar, and they shall know what Morgoth has done, you shall be our savior."
Then Ëarendil sat on his bed with a sigh.
"I did not ask for such a high destiny, I wish but to live here in peace. Keep Ringil, I shall at least learn the art of sailing first"
Then Duilin said nothing, but giving Idril Ringil with a nod he left with grief on his face.
The years wore on, the elves of Doriath and of Gondolin mingling. One year came a feast, when all the elves gathered together, Duilin saw Ëarendil gazing at an elf from Doriath, who wore a necklace with a jewel more beautiful than any in Gondolin. Duilin approached Ëarendil.
"Who is it that you gaze upon?"
"That is Elwing, and she carries a Silmaril!"
Duilin looked gravely at Ëarendil. He reached for his sword, but found that he wore none.
"How long have you known that there was a Silmaril here?"
"Many have known for months now."
Then Duilin sat on the grass in thought. He looked around him. Surely the sons of Feanor would leave them in peace? Surely they would not disturb a sacred feast such as this? Yet if they were to attack, this would be the time, had they yet had time to prepare? Yet Duilin said nothing, knowing that at least the sons of Feanor would call for parlay first.
The day ended, and in those that followed Duilin grew ever more worried. Soon he began to venture far out into the wild searching for enemies. So it was that he came upon orcs. Nearly seven score, armed and shod with steel of Angband. Duilin hasted back, and came after a day of long marching to Tuor.
"We must go to battle, for orcs come to near, and they shall find us within this week if we do not slay all."
"Gather warriors, and we shall lead them to battle."
"Nay. There must be someone left behind to guard against the sons of Feanor, for they will not hesitate to slay once more for a Silmaril, which Elwing of Doriath possesses. But you may lead warriors better than I, though our skill in arms is matched."
"So be it."
So it was, Tuor led two hundred and fifty to the orcs, and Duilin with another two hundred and fifty stayed to guard the survivors. He himself guarded Idril, and when Tuor left they talked for long of what was to come. Ever did they talk of the mortality of Tuor, and after long Idril spoke of an idea she had, that she and Tuor together might come to Valinor. When the night grew deep Idril went to bed, and Duilin stood outside her door, carrying a sword and arrayed in armor.
After two hours, Duilin heard a loud scream from within, then from all around the house came shrieks of terror and roars of battle. Duilin found the door braced from within, but kicked it to splinters. An elf fell to the ground and Duilin's sword found his throat before he moved to stand. Another stood inside, with Ringil held to Idril's neck.