Chapter III: Doriath (Pt. IV)I returned to my chambers after washing and dressing in clean clothes.

Chapter III: Doriath (Pt. IV)

I returned to my chambers after washing and dressing in clean clothes. Mîrwen was with Oropher.

“Ada,” he said happily as he ran to me. “I saw you today. Are you going to be a warrior? I want to be one!”

I could see my wife was not as enthusiastic as our son.

“One day, Oropher,” I said. “But not yet. Go find Eldôr. I need a word with your mother.”

“Yes, Ada.” He ran out of our chambers. Once we heard the doors shut, the tension grew thicker.

“I knew this day would come, Orothôn. You will go into battle and die.”

“Mîrwen,” I began.

“No,” she interrupted storming over to me. “There is nothing you can say to me that will take this pain away!”

“I know,” I whispered

“How could you,” she yelled as she began to cry. “How could you do this to me? To your son?”

“I was not given the choice,” I said. “You know I would have chosen you and Oropher.”

“Would you have? Would you have chosen us over war?”

“You know I would have,” I said.

I felt my own tears began to fall. I headed for her, but she pushed me away.

“Do not touch me, Orothôn,” she wailed. “I do not want you to touch me.”

I was shrinking—no taller than a  blade of grass.

“How will I live without you?”

“I am with you now,” I yelled. “Is this not enough? If I am to die, why spend the time we have left this way? Please, do not do this to us.”
Mîrwen’s expression softened. I took her into my arms.

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

“There is nothing to forgive,” I said.

We kissed passionately. We lost ourselves in the moment—our love proved to us its depth.

“I never want to live in this world without you,” Mîrwen said. “Promise me I will never have to live in this world without you.”

“I cannot promise you that,” I said as I began to cry. “I can only promise my love for you will never die.”

“Neither will mine for you,” she answered.

“Then we will always be together,” I whispered.

From then on, after I gave my preparation for war to the kingdom, I gave myself to Mîrwen thereafter.

**** **** **** ****

Time for us was measured by our children. As my skills in the art of war improved, I barely noticed the changes in my son. He grew taller it seemed, yet he was still quite young. Not long after Eäros wed his beloved Níndi, I came across time itself in the hall near the throne room.

Before me stood a radiant beauty—not quite of age but still a young lady in the making. Her hair was nearly white; flawless skin so fair it seemed to glow with eyes of pale blue. I almost did not recognize her until a prepubescent boy called to her by her name.

“Nimeithel, have you seen Eldôr,” he asked as he stepped into the hall. It was Oropher. Even as his father, I was taken aback.

“Why would I know where Eldôr is just now,” she asked him.

“You know everything, Nimeithel,” he teased. “You and your sister both.”

“If that were true, then I would know from where you were coming and to where you were going next.”

“You know where,” Oropher said quietly. “I told you, remember?”

She smiled at him—I could see she was having fun with him.

“I know not where but Celeborn wishes to go with you. He looks to you as a brother as much as Galathil.”

“I know,” he said.

“If I may, I will go my way,” she said.

As she left I could see my son’s demeanor had changed.

“Oropher, is something the matter,” I asked approaching him.

“Nothing, Ada,” he said, his face flushed. “I was looking for Eldôr.”

“Were you?”

“Yes, of course,” he snapped. “Have you seen him?”

“No,” I answered.

“Are you going to combat,” he asked me.

“What would you know of it?”

“We have seen you,” he began. “From the keep. When will I get to become a warrior?”

“There is no hurry, Oropher,” I said as we walked together toward the throne room. “You are still young.”

I could tell by his expression that he did not think himself too young for anything. As we walked, we met Valdôr. He seemed distracted.

“Something amiss,” I asked him.

“Where is Eldôr,” Oropher asked.

“He seeks your company in our quarters,” he said.

Oropher went on his way swiftly.

“Valdôr, you are not yourself.”

“I am,” he said. “Who else would I be?”

“You know what I mean,” I said. “What has you distracted?”

“I caught sight of the naugrim.”

“I beg your pardon,” I asked. “What is a naugrim?”

“They are rather small,” he said, lowering his hand. “Such as this.”

I stood before him puzzled.

“They are hideous,” he added.

I stared at him thinking he had gone mad. I stopped Iarûr as he was passing.

“Iarûr, what is a naugrim?”

“Oh, the nogothrim,” he said. “They are small.”

He lowered his hand.

“So I hear,” I said. “What are they other than small?”

“They created all that you see around you. They are the masters of stone and weapons of war.”

“They are hideous,” Valdôr said.

“Now, Valdôr, they are as they were meant to be,” Iarûr answered. “No more and no less.”

“Where are they now,” I asked beginning to fear what I might see.

“Somewhere around here,” Iarûr said. “Valdôr was fortunate to have met one of the more majestic of their kin.”

Valdôr gave us a weak smile. Iarûr laughed and continued away. I pat Valdôr on his shoulder and went into the throne room. I thought nothing more of the naugrim as I met Êlengolas with Galathil and Galadhon. I looked around and noticed there were no others with us.

“Where is everyone,” I asked.

Before they could answer, Thingol and Elmo entered the room with a small creature with so much hair, I could barely see its eyes.

“Is that…,” I began.

“One of the naugrim,” Êlengolas whispered. “I see you have spoken to Valdôr. He has yet to get over how small they are.”

We towered over this creature yet it did not seem to fear us.

“Orothôn,” Elmo greeted me. “It is good of you to come.”

“This is Ónarr of Nogrod,” Thingol said. “He and his people are the wielders of stone and smith work.”

This creature walked over to us—his clear blue eyes now visible beneath his unruly black hair and beard.

“It is a pleasure to meet Your Highnesses,” he said bowing to us.

“For us as well,” I said. I looked at Êlengolas, Galathil, and Galadhon—their faces aghast.

“I have seen you wield a sword,” Ónarr continued. “I am impressed with how easily you have come to know it.”

“Thank you,” I answered. “If not for its craftsmen, it would not have the ease for which to wield.”

Ónarr smiled as an elf entered the room.

“Your Majesty,” he said to Thingol. “Might I speak with you in private?”

“Of course, Cúthalion,” Thingol answered.

We bowed as they left us.

“What is happening, Father,” Galadhon asked Elmo.

“There is nothing for you to concern yourself with,” he said. “We are well protected in this land.”

“If we were so protected, then what need would we have for weapons of war,” Galathil asked.

“There are rumblings, within the mountains in the North,” Ónarr said. “My people have known of it for some time.”

“What lies there,” Êlengolas asked.

“I cannot say for certain, but it is dark in nature.”

Elmo seemed concerned at Ónarr’s words. We stood in silence—our imaginations alive with visions of the unknown.”–TKWR Trilogy Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller 12-11-2018.

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