We made our way through narrow corridors to rooms filled with armor, shields, spears, and bows that King Thingol had stockpiled over many years for the occasion of war. The only sounds were the clashing of metal blended with the murmurs of armor-bearers hard at work. When they were finished, we took our weapons and began our return to the surface—our armor dragging against stone walls with an eerie lullaby.
We assembled in the empty hall that before had held such promise. I thought of Oropher. I wanted to look for him but my new wardrobe made it difficult. My view remained on the empty throne. Before long, King Thingol and Elmo appeared dressed similarly to us.
“You will follow us into Ossiriand,” King Thingol said flatly; his expression stoic. “I have it on good authority that our enemy looks to start with the least protected to force out the most in the attempt to destroy us all. This is no ordinary adversary we fight. This is an evil from whence time began. Its desire to extinguish life is only matched by its desire to rule over it. It will fight to the death and so must we. The future of this world depends on it.”
King Thingol and Elmo stepped down from their thrones and became one of us. When I was able to turn my head, I could see Galathil to my left.
“We will follow Father,” he whispered. “Galadhon will accompany our uncle.”
“Where are our sons,” I asked.
“They are to remain behind,” he answered. “To protect the borders.”
I could feel relief fall upon me. It was like a cool breeze flowing through my suit. If I did not return, at least my son had a chance to live as he would remain protected by the Girdle of Melian with his mother.
As we followed the king and his brother out of Menegroth, the faces of our families looked on from behind. I dared not look for Mîrwen. I wished the last I saw her would be her smile as our son married his beloved.
With Menegroth growing smaller in the distance, the familiar path we marched brought back the time we first entered Doriath after years the wilderness. Still, beneath the girdle, things were at peace—the world beyond had yet to bear witness to the peace we had known. It was changed and we had not for we chose to live our lives in relative secrecy. The evil around us seemed like myth yet we were told of its reality. We hoped it was legend—something that had passed away never to return. Now we were about to fact this nemesis we knew very little about.
We continued our journey to the borders. When we came to it, we stopped.
“Once we cross this boundary,” King Thingol began. “Only the stars hold our fate in their hands.”
Not a sound was heard—not a breath was taken. I felt the earth move beneath my feet only to realize I was walking with other elves into another land. Unremarkable was the world I once left behind yet the air was different. There was a distant stench I was not familiar with. Further away, we heard a rumbling. I noticed we were marching in the direction of both. The closer we came, the greater the sound and the stronger the smell.
With little warning, we came upon creatures so hideous and malodorous, I nearly fainted. Armor-clad with features that could only be called scaly but oleaginous. Their numbers seemed infinite in the light of the stars.
“Fire,” I heard Elmo say. Arrows flew past my head and pierced the flesh of a few of these monsters. It only served to anger them more. They broke ranks and came at us with such fury, I barely had time to draw my sword. I felled one—then another and another and another. Their evil was palpable and their numbers never-ending. I felt I was fighting for every year of my life. Out of exhaustion or perhaps a wound, I fell down amid the corpses of elves.
“Orothôn,” I heard a voice say. I thought I was in a dream. “Orothôn, are you with us?”
I opened my eyes. I was lying on top of a dead elf. His eyes stared into mine in anguish. I quickly jumped up in horror. I looked to see Galathil standing beside me.
“Are you alright,” he asked.
“Yes, I am,” I answered. I looked around to see elves and dwarves lying motionless. The carnage seemed to go the length of the Ered Luin.
“Where is Galadhon,” I asked. “Where is Elmo? Where is King Thingol?”
“Calm down,” Galathil said. “They live. I am afraid I cannot say the same for Denethor.”
I looked around trying to find his face among many. There were so many faces—each one staring into the void of death. Suddenly I remembered my friends.
“Where is Valdôr,” I asked. “Was he not with us?”
“He is gone, Orothôn,” another voice said. It was Êlengolas. “He fell not long after Denethor.”
I could not help but cry. I was overcome with grief. My visions had come to bear the bitter fruit of death I longed feared. Êlengolas and Galathil helped me navigate through the bodies and off the field of battle. In my grief, I hardly noticed Ónarr speaking with King Thingol nearby. I had again realized his people were among the dead and my grief worsened. I longed to be with Mîrwen and Oropher. I wondered if there was any home left to return to. Just as I began to drown myself in my thoughts, an elf approached me.
“You must stay strong, Orothôn,” he said. “Or else you will perish from your grief.”
I looked up to see Iarûr.
“You are here,” I said.
“I am,” he answered. “Not all is lost. For even in darkness light must shine. Rest, my friend. For soon we will return home.”
I smiled weakly as I leaned against the trunk of a tree and felt myself drift into a deep rest. I opened my eyes to the sound of metal against metal. Startled, I looked up to see soldiers picking up weapons from the ground.
“Did I startle you,” a young elf asked me.
“Yes, but I am fine,” I answered. “Carry on.”
He nodded and went on his way. When I rose to my feet, I saw that the creatures seem to retreat the field.
“They are orcs,” Êlengolas said as he approached from behind. “That is what Iarûr calls them.
“Where are they going,” I asked.
“I do not know nor do I care,” he said angrily. “They killed many of us. They left many a widow to grieve to make orphans. I suspect we have not seen the last of them.”
“Are we to leave for Doriath,” I asked.
“Yes, he said. “We were about to depart. I was sent to tell you. How is your arm?”
“My arm,” I asked. I look to see my arm was wrapped tightly from my elbow to my shoulder. For the first time, I felt the pain. “I was wounded by an orc?”
Êlengolas looked at me confused as he shook his head.
“Come on,” he said.
We made our way toward King Thingol and Elmo eating along with Galathil and Galadhon. King Thingol nodded at me and we began our return to Doriath.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 4-7-2019
After dinner, Mîrwen decided to return to our quarters to see about Oropher. I decided to wander the halls of our new home. Its long labyrinthian passages seemed to have no end to them until another corner appeared to lead me elsewhere. At one particular turn, my journey was interrupted by Daeron.
“Are you lost,” he asked.
“I am not quite sure,” I answered.
“Well, let me be of service and help you find your way,” he said sharply. “These corridors can lead to places you do not want to go.”
“Of course,” I said, my curiosity growing. “I would not want to go where I am not welcome.”
“It is not that you are not welcome,” Daeron answered. “It is dangerous to roam Menegroth alone. One can easily disappear never to be seen again.”
We began walking toward a familiar hallway.
“If I may ask, what is it that you do for King Thingol?”
“Whatever his majesty wishes,” he said. “My main function is the keeper of lore.”
When we came to my quarters, we stopped.
“Is there anything else you care to ask me,” Daeron asked.
“No,” I answered. “Not at the moment. You will forgive me if I have offended you in any way. It was not my intention.”
“You have not offended me,” he answered. “If I may, I will take my leave.”
I nodded and he walked away swiftly. I wanted to return to discovering other caverns but I knew I needed to speak with Mîrwen. She had become more distant and it concerned me greatly. The guards opened our chamber doors. When I entered, Mîrwen was sitting by one of the vaulted windows I walked over to her and looked out. There were gigantic waterfalls flowing into a dark abyss—their roaring waters were a lullaby. Mîrwen looked at me. I could not find the words to say.
“How is Oropher,” I asked.
“He is sleeping peacefully,” she said.
“Very well,” I said. It was all I could think to say.
“Uncle is entranced,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“He has fallen completely under the spell of his wife and queen.”
“Yes,” I said perplexed. “They seem quite enamored with each other.”
She glared at me.
“Why does this not bother you?”
“Why does this bother you,” I asked. “You will excuse me if I find no fault with it.”
“Of course you would find no fault with it. Why would you?”
“That is the very question I should ask of you,” I answered.
“You only see what you want to see, Orothôn,” she growled. “Can you for once see what I see?”
“No,” I yelled. “I cannot see why you see! I am quite thankful for that! What is wrong with your uncle being in love with his wife, Mîrwen?”
“She is not one of us,” she said.
“What does that mean,” I asked. “What does that have to do with love?”
“Queen Melian is a maiar,” she said.
I looked at my beloved and wondered what she was talking about.
“Oh,” I said. “That changes everything.”
“You do not know what I am saying.”
“Mîrwen, you are my wife,” I began. “Of course I do not know what you are saying.”
“I never thought they existed,” she said. “I thought they were tales told by my mother to explain the creation of the world.”
“So they exist,” I said, “We can move on to other matters.”
“What would their children be,” she asked ignoring me.
“I would think they would be small at first, then grow as any other child. What does it matter?”
She stood up and came to me.
“Why does this not bother you, Orothôn?”
I looked at the wonder in her eyes.
“You want to know why it does not bother me,” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Because I do not care.”
She frowned at me and I smiled at her.
“Be happy for him,” I said. “The nature of being has little to do with how we love; much less with whom.”
“I suppose you are right,” she whispered.
“Of course I am right,” I answered, embracing her.
“There is always a first time for everything,” she said.
**** **** **** ****
We were alone together—lying in our bed holding one another for the first time within the walls fo a palace. Oropher was no longer sleeping at the end of our bed to hear his parents wisher their love to one another.
As we lay, our chamber doors flew open startling us. It was Êlengolas and Valdôr.
“Orothôn! Mîrwen!”
“Valdôr, what is this madness,” I asked.
“Celebriel is about to give birth,” he answered.
“If you would be so kind,” Mîrwen said.
“Oh,” Êlengolas said. “Of course.”
They stepped out of the room. She turned to me and kissed me.
“I will see you later,” she said. “We have much to talk about.”
She got out of bed and covers herself with her robe and rang for the servants. They came quick and left quicker. Mîrwen smiled at me and left to perform her duties. I rose from our bed and walked over to our window to watch the falls. The doors opened and Êlengolas entered alone.
“You could have spared me the lurid details,” he said ringing the servants. He grabbed my robe and threw it over my shoulders.
“I apologize, but you do realize this is my bedchamber?”
“We are expected in an audience with King Thingol.”
Suddenly, several elves entered and dressed me in white and silver chain. When they were done, they dispersed.
“What is this,” I asked.
“That is what will protect you in battle if it comes to it. Come, now.”
I started to feel afraid for the first time in my life. By the time we reached the throne room, it was filled with elves. Among them were Valdôr, Fineär, Galadhon, Galathil, and Denethor. Elmo stood by the side of the throne awaiting the king. When he arrived, all fell quiet.
“Darkness surrounds us,” Thingol began. “It wishes to destroy this world and all within it. We must protect all that is good and pure; as the first-born of Eru Ilúvatar, we must prevail. Go and make ready for that day—for it will come.”
At the command of the guard, we followed our masters out of the palace, across the bridge and upon the training field. As we learned many techniques, I came to prefer the bow to the sword. Êlengolas would master everything and seem to delight in being a quick study.
Valdôr seemed overwhelmed though he managed to form a more strategic way to fight; one that depended more on his wits and less on hand-to-hand combat. After our first lesson, I looked forward to the next.
Upon our return to the palace, there was excitement in the air. Mîrwen came to me. She looked at me in horror.
“What is the matter,” I asked.
“You are dressed for war,” she answered.
“Not yet,” I assured her. “Tell me, what has everyone running about?”
“Celebriel has given birth to a son,” she said flatly.
“That is wonderful. What is he called?”
“Celeborn,” she said. “His name is Celeborn.”
With that, she turned and walked away. I knew the thought of me going to fight in a war had stolen from her any joy she might have had. As the hall emptied, I noted Oropher with Eldôr, Nimeithel and another elfling. She was an unusually beautiful child with the fairest of skin and the darkest of hair.
“Orothôn,” I heard Denethor say. “Did you hear of Galadhon’s son?”
“Yes,” I said. “Who is that elfling with Oropher?”
“That is the daughter of Thingol and Melian. Her name is Lúthien. Come. Time to get out of this chain.”
I followed him away but I could not get that name out of my mind—Lúthien.–TKWR Trilogy Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller 11-11-2018.
As we walked toward the distant tree line, I noticed the world around us. It seemed to change before my eyes. The colors were more vivid than ever before as the starlight burned brighter. Shapes became shadows as we passed by figures of nature. I felt things unknown lingering in the darkness. I felt a tug on my robe.
“Ada,” Oropher chimed as he struggled to keep up. “I am afraid.”
I picked him up and he put his arms around and buried his face into chest. Mîrwen looked at me—her eyes filled with fear. She took hold of my other hand tightly as the low hum of voices began their familiar tune. The closer to our destination we came, the louder the voices.
We walked together slowly—every step anticipating a remarkable moment that would reveal paradise or send our souls into darkness. I could feel my heart rising into my throat and my thoughts failed me when our march ended abruptly at the edge of the forest.
“Aúrion,” Eäros called as he came forward with another of his kin. They stood quietly before us looking or listening for someone. Suddenly several elves came out of the trees armed with strange accoutrements I would come to learn were weapons of war.
They whispered among themselves briefly before one elf emerged. He was nearly ethereal—his long golden hair framed a shocking face as strong as it was delicate. He bowed to Elmo and Orowen.
“We have been expecting you,” the elf began. “Your brother the king awaits you. I am Daeron. If you will, follow me.”
Elmo nodded and we followed him into the forest. In an instant of crossing the threshold, there was an overwhelming feeling of calm. There was an enchanting beauty far different from when we came. I wondered if we had finally come into Eldamar. There were creatures I had never seen wandering beneath a canopy of mystical treetops. Higher still, the Heavens seem to shine brighter for the light of the stars were as countless lanterns of endless light.
Beneath our feet the ground was soft; we walked on air. Our journey seemed worth the years of unknowing. Before long, I noticed a familiar face.
“Greetings, my friend,” he said joining me. “It has been quite some time.”
“Denethor,” I said. “You are here?”
“I am,” he answered. “I wished to see you to King Thingol.”
I was happy to see him again but I felt there was something he was hiding. I said nothing—I did not want to alarm my family.
“How is Arethuil,” I asked.
“She is well,” he began. “We have little ones of our own. Who do you call your son, if I may inquire?”
“He is Oropher,” I said proudly.
Oropher looked at Denethor—inspecting him carefully. When he approved, he nodded.
“Oropher. What a noble name,” Denethor said. “Fit for a king.”
I smiled as we continued on our way. Mîrwen said nothing—her mind elsewhere. When we came upon a long stone bridge over a powerful raging river, two guards stood ready to lead us across to the magnificent gates that secured all that lived within.
Slowly we mad our way across—a band of wanderers hardly prepared to meet anyone, much less a mighty king. As we moved closer to the gates they were opened to us. The halls were dim—lit by lanterns throughout save the Great Hall of Thingol. It bore the light of lanterns with the natural light of the stars high above. The breath-taking elegance was made greater by the appearance of Elwë known as King Thingol.
He wore a robe of sliver and white. It was in this light I could see the beauty of my kin around me. He came to us joyously.
“Elmo,” he said embracing him. “How I have missed you. Orowen.”
She smiled and paid obeisance as the rest of us did obediently.
“It is good to you again,” Elmo said. “If not in Eldamar where our brother resides. I must ask what reason have you found to stay?”
Thingol motioned to Daeron. He left us as Thingol’s smile grew wider. He turned a glance to his left as Daeron returned escorting the most beautiful creature anyone had ever seen.
“This is my wife and queen, Melian,” Thingol said taking her hand and kissing it.
“Welcome to Menegroth,” she said. Her voice had a sound from eternity that rang from a knowledge of time. She had long dark hair and eyes of a color that could not be described as they defied all things earthbound.
“You must be tired and hungry,” Thingol continued. Daeron, show my brother and his court to their living quarters. Once you all have rested, we shall feast.”
Daeron once again led us away. The few of the court—made up of Iarûr, Êlengolas, Valdôr and their households—came with us. In that, I felt better about making this my new home. After traversing through endless stone paths, we were shown our quarters. Guarded by two elves, they opened the doors and we entered. The ceilings were vaulted—carve with such detail I wondered how the artisans found the time. There was a very large hearth and fireplace beside a wardrobe. To our delight, a door beside our bed let to another room for Oropher.
“Shall I take Oropher to bed,” I heard Amareth say.
I looked to see that Oropher had fallen asleep. In all the enchantments I hardly felt him in my arms.
“Thank you, Amareth,” I said handing him to her. When they were gone, I turned to Mîrwen. She was sitting at the end of the bed looking into the hollow fireplace.
“Talk to me, Mîrwen,” I said joining her.
“She is quite beautiful,” she began softly.
“Queen Melian,” I said. “She is.”
“She is not one of us,” she said.
I did not say a word to her. I touched her face gently. She looked at me. I could see she wanted to speak but I shook my head. I kissed her lips.
“We will speak after dinner,” I whispered. She nodded and put her head on my shoulder. Before long, servants arrived and dressed us for dinner. When we were ready, we left our room and made our way through the winding paths to the banquet hall that was even more magnificent than the throne room.
The table was the length of the room and elegantly dressed with plates and utensils of the finest craftsmanship. Everyone was present—including Denethor and Arethuil. We sat near them as well as Galadhon and Celebriel who was visibly with child.
“When are you due,” Arethuil asked her.
“Quite possibly after dinner,” Galadhon teased.
“That would be far too much to wish for,” Celebriel said as she sat down. “But I know he will come into this work inside the safety of this palace and for this I am grateful.”
Before another word could be said, Thingol and Melian entered the hall with Elmo and Orowen. We stood for them. Once they were seated we sat down to be served. Galathil and Nárwen found themselves near us.
“Where is Níndi,” Mîrwen asked Galadhon. “I have not see her since we came into Doriath.”
“I suspect she is with Eäros,” Galadhon answered. “She thinks her father is unaware of her love for him.”
“So you approve of him,” I asked as Êlengolas, Valdôr, Finëar and their wives joined us.
“Do I have a choice,” Galadhon asked. “I have little control over the heart. I think her too young to marry but her mother thinks otherwise. I am not fool enough to disagree with my wife. I must live with her for eternity.”
“You are wise,” Celebriel said smiling.
“Tell me, Denethor,” I began. “You have children, you say?”
“Yes,” he said. “A boy and a girl. They are young; not quite old enough to be betrothed.”
“Be thankful,” Êlengolas said. “I have girls and I wish nothing more than for them to stay as they—repelled by boys. Though I believe my Nimeithel has found a friend in Orothôn’s son Oropher.”
Mîrwen laughed for the first time in a long while. That made me smile.
“I am curious as to why you are so far from where we last saw you,” Galathil asked Denethor. “What brings you into Beleriand?”
“Something lingers in darkness,” he said softly. “I cannot say what it is but for the safety of my people I asked for refuge and King Thingol gave it willingly. For that, I am indebted to him.”
“What darkness,” Valdôr asked curiously. “What else is out there but elves?”
“Not just elves,” Thingol said from end of the table. I wonder how he heard us. “There are many things out there beyond these caverns. Some are harmless and some wish to do harm. The world is changing and it grows darker. But for better or for worse I remain here for there are some things in this world greater than fear.”
He took his wife’s hand and kissed it. I turned to Mîrwen—she was no longer smiling. Everyone at in silence.–TKWR Trilogy Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller 10-27-2018.
I was not in my chambers long before Mîrwen entered. She had a look of dread upon her face. I knew better than to inquire. She had spent much of her time with the Queen this day. With the departure of Thingol, I knew too well the fear in Melian’s heart. What she said to the court with her eyes, she spoke to her most trusted ladies.
“What is on your mind, Orothôn,” she asked as she walked by without a glance. “I could hear your thoughts in the hall.”
“I have nothing on my mind other than my concern for you.”
“As you well should,” she said. “But I would worry more for the fate of the Eldalië.”
“Why is that,” I began. “Do not speak to me in riddles, Mîrwen. Between you and Galadriel, on can hardly dismiss the look of puzzlement upon my face.”
“There is talk of war,” she said angrily. “Or do menfolk not speak of it anymore?”
“We speak of it,” I answered. “But why would ladies concern themselves with war?”
“We are far from immune by the affects of war,” she said. “We are wives and mothers of warriors.”
“Yes, you are,” I said. “And as such, it would be helpful if you would tell your warrior husband what you are trying to say.”
“Mother wishes to sail west.”
I looked at Mîrwen. From her expression, I could tell she knew I was stunned.
“What are you saying, Mîrwen?”
“Dark times are coming to us,” she began. “There will be death among us. Mother wishes for us to go where we should have gone a long time ago.”
I did not know what to say. Before I could think of something, there came a knock at the door.
“Enter,” I said without a backwards glance.
“Ada,” I heard Oropher say. I turned to see my son standing beside Amdir.
“Yes, Oropher,” I asked.
“You are wanted,” he said. “By Elmo.”
I nodded.
“See to your mother,” I whispered.
“Yes, Ada,” he answered.
“Elmo is with Iarûr in the library,” Amdir added.
I nodded, and made my way down the hall. As I turned down the corridor leading to the library, I met Êlengolas and Finëar.
“Have you two been summoned,” I asked.
“If by summoned you mean intentionally eavesdropping, then yes,” Êlengolas said with a smile. Finëar sighed in annoyance.
“Yes, he was called upon,” he said. “Êlengolas is one of our best warriors, if not our most trying. Angband rumbles again for that creature brought with it more than eyes.”
As we entered the library, several elves busied themselves with putting scrolls into trunks. Iarûr and Elmo stood in the farthest corner speaking quietly as Súlwë sat nearby. When they saw us approaching, we were greeted warmly.
“Orothôn,” Iarûr said. “Good of you to come.”
“I was told Elmo wished to see me,” I answered.
“Yes,” Elmo said. “Have you spoken to Mîrwen?”
“I have only briefly.”
“So, she has told you of Orowen’s desire to sail west.”
“Yes,” I answered. “I am afraid I do not understand.”
“I believe you do, Orothôn,” Elmo said. “It was you, after all, that heard my promise to my wife many years ago on our way to Doriath.”
Everything became clear to me in that moment. My mind returned to the forest beneath the stars.
“You have called me here to tell me we are to leave Doriath?”
“No,” he said softly. “Not just yet, but it is on the minds of many.”
“I find it difficult to fathom King Thingol leaving this world,” I said. “And if my memory serves, you said you would leave if you failed to convince your brother.”
“You memory serves you well,” he answered.
“The King will not leave Doriath,” Êlengolas said. “So long as his daughter remains, he is tethered forever to this land.”
“His daughter has given her love to a mortal,” Finëar added. “Now Elven blood will one day flow together with Atani for many generations.”
“Yes,” Elmo said softly. “I made a promise to my beloved, but I owe my allegiance to my brother.”
“So you wish to stay,” I asked.
“No,” Elmo answered. “I want to leave with my family before more Elven blood is shed.”
“Well, do it quickly,” Iarûr said. “That time will be upon us soon. More than elven blood will flow through this land.”
“Are you planning to leave as well,” I asked Iarûr.
“No,” he said. “I must stay. My fate is tied to another. But I will make my way home when it is is my time to do so.”
“When are you leaving, Elmo,” I asked.
“As soon as my brother returns, I shall tell him my plans so that I may prepare for our journey. You will be coming with us, yes?”
I did not answer. I had not given it much thought. Even after facing the evil of Morgoth, I had come to call Doriath my home.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 12-11-2021
The entry of Lúthien and Beren was nothing less than spectacular. From every corner of Menegroth, cheers erupted. I stood with Mîrwen as King Thingol and Queen Melian greeted their daughter on the bridge. Looking around, I saw a joy on the faces of the elves I had not seen in years. They had embraced a new hope even as evil lurked in the shadows.
Before my thoughts could wander further, King Things and Queen Melian approached us; their beloved daughter and her great love behind them. In the eyes of Lúthien—though her beauty had not faded—there was an inexplicable sadness.
As we followed them into the Great Hall, the celebration continued. Once upon his throne, King Thingol and his queen inquired about their perilous journey. Beren had yielded nothing save the loss of his hand and the respect of King Thingol who seemed moved by his efforts for the love of Lúthien. Therefore, he gave to Beren his heart’s desire—the hand of his daughter.
Suddenly, there was movement from the back of the room. It was Mablung and Beleg—their faces twisted in fear.
“Your Majesty,” Mablung began. “There is an evil that has come.”
“What are you saying,” Thingol asked.
“Morgoth has many eyes, Your Majesty,” Beleg answered. “These are upon the head of a wolf.”
Gasps of terror filled the air as I searched the room for Oropher. When I saw him, I could feel my heart find its rhythm again.
“Do you know what is happening,” I asked my son as he approached.
“I know nothing,” he answered. “My men have been directed to protect Menegroth at all cost.”
I noticed that Thingol and Beren were walking with Mablung and Beleg toward the gates. Elmo ran behind his brother. I was too far to hear what one said to the other but I could see that Elmo was distraught. As Menegroth rattled with preparation for another encounter with the creatures of Angband, I began to understand the words spoken to me by Valdôr in a vision.
Darkness will fall again upon this world and last many seasons.
I followed the chaos to the main gates. I watched a party of hunters led by Thingol and Beren walk into the depths of the forest.
“Made a bride only to become a widow,” a voice said nearby. I turned to see Galadriel.
“You speak of Lúthien,” I said.
She turned to me—her face stoic and her eyes set aflame with the knowledge of ten thousand years.
“There are more brides than what you see, Orothôn,” she said. “Each one shall lose a bridegroom in this darkness before all is said and done.”
She walked away slowly. I did not understand her words.
“All there is left to do is wait,” I heard Êlengolas say as he placed his hand on my shoulder.
“It would be nice if we knew what we were waiting for,” I said.
“We are waiting for uncertainty,” he started. “It is what we are always waiting for; for better or for worse. There is nothing certain as we live. Only death gives certainty.”
I found a brief solace in that moment. After a time of staring into the night, I headed to my chambers. My thoughts were dulled by confusion. What would come to us in the withering hours that would follow I knew would begin the fall of Doriath.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 05-11-2021
As it was told to me sometime later: the whole of Doriath stood still that day. No wind blew through the trees and nary a forest creature could be seen. Time seemed to stop within our borders. Even within the halls of Menegroth there was an unsettled anticipation. Silence filled every chamber and the only sound heard was our footsteps—like heartbeats they filled our ears with anxious desire for a return to normalcy. This day would never be forgotten in the annals of time. Yet in the moment, one could forget there was ever a time such as this to remember.
It was the day Lady Lúthien and her Beren would return to Menegroth. Even as the day began as always, an uneasy excitement whispered through its hallowed halls.
I was called upon by Elmo and Orowen to receive the returning couple with the rest of the family. I had met the request with some doubt—for I feared it was all in vain. Nonetheless, I acquiesced for the sake of Mîrwen.
At sunrise on that day, I rose to find Mîrwen standing across our chamber draped in her robe and staring upward.
“Mîrwen,” I began. “Is something the matter?”
“Would you think ill of me if I were to say I wished this day had never come,” she asked softly.
“You know I could never think ill of you,” I said as I got up and walked over to her. “May I asked why you fell this way?”
She turned toward me; her eyes felt like daggers through my heart.
“I know of your visions, Orothôn,” she said. “I know you have seen was is to come and it will be this day that casts its long shadow upon this world.”
“What are you saying,” I asked.
“You know well what I am saying,” she snapped.
“If I did, my love, I would know how to answer.”
“Why did you say nothing to me of what you have seen,” she demanded.
“I did not wish to upset you,” I said. “It would appear I had just cause.”
“I am not amused, Orothôn,” she said.
“Nor am I, Mîrwen. What has brought you to this, dare I ask?”
“I know far more than you think,” she said.
“Well, that would not surprise me as you spend your days with the ladies of the court,” I answered. “I can only begin to imagine what you talk about when your husbands are not around.”
“We do not discuss Súlwë,” she said.
Words escaped me.
“Where did you hear that name,” I asked.
“It does not matter from where I heard it,” she answered as her voice seemed darker. “What matters is he knows the reason why this day has come. Your visions are what lies in the future this day foreshadows.”
“Mîrwen, please,” I said softly. “No more.”
“For now,” she whispered as we heard a knock at the door. “Enter.”
Servants entered the room to dress us for the day.
“I will tell you as much as I can,” I whispered.
“No, Orothôn. You will tell me all that you know.”
She smiled and motioned to her dressers and disappeared behind her screen.
I made my way to my attendants and we were dressed in silence. When we were ready, Mîrwen and I entered the hall where we met Oropher and Nimeithel.
“Ada,” he said. “You clean up nicely. How long has it been since we have had the occasion to be so formal?”
“It has been too long,” I answered.
We began making our way to the main vestibule. I put aside the events of the morning the closer to the throne we came. Not since we first entered into Menegroth had it looked so festive. I allowed myself a moment of much needed peace.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 09-22-2020
The court began buzzing with delight with news of Lúthien’s return. Iarûr was the only one among us whose demeanor remained solemn. When I had the opportunity later in the evening, I found him in his chambers alone at his writing table. I entered cautiously through is opened door.
“Pleas come in, Orothôn,” he said without looking up form his work.
“I am not interrupting your work,” I asked.
“No,” he said looking up. “There was no work to be done this hour. I was putting my thoughts down for my own remembrance of this day.”
“It is this day I wished to speak to you about,” I said.
“I know,” he sewered. “You are quite perceptive. If you thought the news of this day troubled me, then you were correct.”
“It is wonderful news,” I said. “The return of the king’s daughter will make this kingdom whole once more.”
“You are naive in your optimism,” Iarûr said sternly. “It will serve you well on the darkest night but in the light of day, you must acknowledge reality.”
“I do not understand.”
“N one returns from Angband as they entered,” he said softly. “I can only imagine the horrors of the Lady Lúthien must have seen. No one can witness such evil without losing part of themselves.”
“The king will be happy once more,” I said almost pleading with him.
“Yes, he will,” he agreed. “But it will be short-lived, Orothôn. I am afraid this world will never be the same again. It is changing, my friend. The elements of good and evil have intermingled creating seasons not so easily discernible.”
I could say nothing—I just stood there thinking about those words as they seared a hole in my heart. Now I feared what may come to us upon the return of Lúthien and Beren.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 07-06-2020
The rumblings from Angband began as the sound distant thunder—the infrequent beating of the soul-less heart. Though nothing came from its depths as before, we were nonetheless well-equipped for battle. As time wore on, we became accustomed to the rumble. Iarûr worried we had become lax in our preparation for an attack from Morgoth. It had been a long period of calm at the borders of Doriath. The Girdle of Melian still protected us from even the subtlest changes in the world around us.
There were Men now and they were building kingdoms of their own. The naugrim had more contact with their race it was said whenever they came past our borders. King Thingol remained distraught over the loss of his beloved daughter even as he tried to resume his royal duties. He seemed unaware of the comings and goings of the court—much less of life beyond the gates of Menegroth.
We went about our lives with little understanding that our isolation was about to come to an abrupt end.
The day began as always—I rose to find myself alone as Mîrwen had let to attend to her duties for the queen. I went about my day in the library with Súlimë. After we finished, we made our way toward the main vestibule where we would part ways until dinner.
Before the had our chance, I noticed Eldôr and Oropher standing inside the gates. Oropher said something to Beleg before he went on his way.
“Oropher,” I began. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, of course,” he answered. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Not this day,” Eldôr added. “I would not presume to know what goes on near the borders.”
“I beg your pardon,” Súlimë asked.
“He speaks of the wanderings of the naugrim,” Oropher said. “They seem rather busy these days.”
“With what,” I asked curiously.
“You can never be too sure with them,” he said. “I have never seen creatures so industrious.”
“I am sure it is nothing they cannot handle,” I said thinking of Ónarr.
“They have tildes they have seen Daeron wandering in the East,” Eldôr said.
“Daeron,” I asked. “Was he not with Thingol when receiving Celebrían?”
“Yes,” Oropher said. “But she is no longer an elfling, you realize.
“Has it truly been that long,” Súlimë asked.
“Time passes as silently as it does quickly,” he said.
It was then that I realized how wise my son had become. Just as we were to retire for the evening with the setting of the sun, two guards came running toward us.
“What news have you,” Eldôr asked.
“They have come into Doriath,” one of the said catching his breath.
“When,” Oropher asked.
“I do not know when but they have journeyed long,” the other answered.
“Go,” Eldôr commanded. “Send word to Mablung quickly.”
The two elves moved swiftly past us and out of sight.
“Of whom do they speak,” I asked.
“Lúthien and her Beren,” Oropher answered. “They have returned.”–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 07-06-2020
The discussion was long since forgotten as time became routine once more. Life took on a malignant monotony that was tenuous at best. I knew the world was changing beyond the borders of Menegroth—Oropher would speak of it whenever he had the mind to wander near them to see for himself. As duty remained my shadow while I worked in the library, curiosity became the obligation of the younger generations.
It seemed all but King Thingol feared the loss of Lúthien, though his grief in her absence was felt throughout Menegroth. Iarûr would tell us often how fragile his emotions had become even as he attempted to appear as the mighty king he was before. Mîrwen would tell me how stoic queen Melian remained—her thoughts as distant as the stars. Whatever ancient wisdom or prophecy she knew, she kept to herself.
One day, while the ladies of the court were called to attend to Galadriel, I decided to leave the library with Súlwë for a short stroll outside. It seemed ages since we had seen the sun. The dimly lit caverns had started to remind me of the time before the rising of the Daystar.
It was a clear day—neither warm nor cool. The air was crisp but the wind still as we crossed the bridge.
“How is Galadriel,” I asked.
“From what Celeborn has told me, she is quite well,” Súlwë answered. “But I doubt either of us truly know what it is like to be with child.”
“Mîrwen says she is due any day,” I added.
“I hope so for Celeborn’s sake. His expression has been one of panic as of late.”
“How can you tell,” I asked teasingly.
Súlwë laughed softly.
“Let us hope this elfling brings some joy to Menegroth,” he said. “It is much needed.”
“Yes, it is,” I answered. “It is far too dark for the First-Born these days.”
“Darkness is everywhere, Orothôn,” he began. “I came from light that was dimmed by the very heart of that darkness. It shall linger far longer than our time.”
“Then perhaps this elfling will be a respite from it,” I whispered.
We walked in silence for a time—listening to the sounds of nature. Upon our return, we were met on the bridge by Finëar and Saeros.
“Orothôn,” Finëar said, his voice winded from running. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”
“For me,” I asked.
“You are part of the royal family, are you not,” Saeros asked.
“What is it,” I asked, gruffly.
“The Lady Galadriel has given birth to a daughter,” Finëar said. “Go on, now. Oropher has your place.”
Súlwë nodded and I took my leave into Menegroth. Once inside, Êlengolas was waiting.
“You are late,” he said.
“How can one be late for something that has no timetable,” I asked as we began walking toward our destination.
“We are Eldar,” he said. “We know everything.”
“We are male,” I added. “You must have us confused with the elleth.”
“I do not know about you, Orothôn, but I am married to one that cannot help but speak and I am compelled to listen.”
It was not long before we stood before two doors that was opened for us. I entered to see Galadriel lying in bed surrounded by the ladies of the court beside Queen Melian. I bowed to the Queen as Celeborn approached holding a tiny bundle with soft golden hair upon the whitest of skin.
“Is she not beautiful, Orothôn,” he asked beaming.
“Yes,” I said. “What do you call her?”
“Celebrían,” he said as his new daughter cooed.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful elfling,” I started. “What has the king said of her?”
“He has not seen her,” he said.
“Not seen her,” I asked. “I was told I was late.”
“He did not come,” Celeborn whispered. “Perhaps the birth of a daughter is too painful for him.”
In that moment, the doors opened again. It was King Thingol with Cúthalion and Mablung beside with Daeron and Saeros close behind.
“Your Majesty,” Celeborn and I said together.
“Is this the elfling born to Galadriel,” Thingol asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Celeborn answered.
The king looked upon the child as she opened her eyes. A slight smile came across his face.
“She is beautiful,” he said. “What is her name?”
“Celebrían, Your Majesty,” Celeborn answered again.
“Fitting name,” Thingol began. “You and your wife have my warmest congratulations on the birth of your daughter. Melian, a word if I may.”
We bowed as the Queen walked across the room and left with her husband and his guard. Celebrían began to cry as Celeborn returned her to Galadriel. The room itself seemed to sigh in relief after King Thingol left. Oropher come to me from is place beside the other princes.
“We did not think he would come,” he whispered to me.
“Is that what the Queen said,” I asked.
“No, Iarûr.”
“He spoke with him prior?”
“Not that I am aware,” Oropher began. “But Angband has awakened once more.”
“Angband?”
“Something has brought it to life,” he said. “What is the question.”
I was afraid to know and knew better not to speculate. The day was good and I wanted it to remain as such.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 02-23-2020
It was much later after Eöl had left that I learned why he ventured into Doriath. He was repaying a debt known only to him and King Things. Only a few days later would I learn more.
Iarûr had sent me on an errand to the armory to give a scroll to Finëar. Once I had arrived, I saw a familiar face.
“Ónarr,” I said, surprised. “I have not seen you since the dreaded war of the Dark Year.”
“Good to see you again, Orothôn,” he said as he took my hand. “Even one life spared among many lost is a blessing.”
“Finëar,” I said, handing him the scroll. “From Iarûr.”
“Thank you,” he said taking it and began reading.
“How have you been,” Ónarr continued. “My condolences to Eldôr on the loss of his father.”
“I will send word to him,” I answered. “It will lighten his heart to know.”
“I have not seen many of your kind for some time,” he said. “Not since the arrival of those new creatures.”
“You refer to the Atani,” I asked.
“If that is what you call them,” he laughed. “They are a cunning lot. They are quick-witted if I may add.”
“I am afraid my time with their kind is limited at best. I have not seen one in quite awhile.”
Finëar cleared his throat—I could tell he was bothered by our conversation.
“It says that the king wishes to place that gift for safe keeping in the armory,” Finëar said. “Has he gone mad?”
“I beg your pardon,” I asked.
“That sword Eöl gave to the king,” he answered. “Did he not tell you why you were sent?”
“I am afraid not, Finëar,” I said.
“You speak of Gurthang,” Ónarr asked.
“Come again,” Finëar asked him.
“The sword,” Ónarr answered. “The Elf-Smith Eöl forged it himself. I saw him do it with my own two eyes.”
“I am to assume you helped to create it,” Finëar asked glaring at the dwarf in disdain.
“My duties lie elsewhere,” Ónarr said. “Though I know my way around the fires, I am a master of stone. Mîm might have a notion.”
“There is a name I have not heard in a time,” Finëar said, calming down. “Was its creation ordered by Azaghâl?”
“If His Majesty requested such a thing be made, I have not heard of it.”
“I suppose you would not, Ónarr,” Finëar said. “I know much your time is sacrosanct these days. How is Finrod, if I may inquire?”
“Quite well,” Ónarr said. “He sends his greetings to you.
I sensed something unusual in his voice as it grew softer. I felt he knew something but wished to keep it from us.
“Orothôn,” Finëar said to me. “Tell Iarûr I shall harbor this sword for now. When I find a place for it, let he be the only one to bring it to me. I have little doubt that such a weapon in the wrong hands could be catastrophic. Especially one so forged by Eöl. Who knows what machinations go through his mind.”
I nodded. I looked again at Ónarr.
“It was a pleasure to see you again,” I said.
“For me as well,” he answered.
I turned and left. In the hall, I nearly ran into Saeros.
“Many pardons,” he said. “Has Ónarr left?”
“No,” I answered curiously. “He is with Finëar now.”
“Thank you,” he said hurriedly as he went into the armory. Something piqued my curiosity. I leaned against the wall in the darkness to listen.
“What word have you from Telchar,” Saeros asked. “Has he not forged many weapons of late?”
“Aye, he has,” Ónarr said. “Most of which I am not privy to though one such weapon is in the hands of one they call Beren.”
“Have you seen this Beren,” Finëar asked. “Where is he?”
“I would not know that,” Ónarr answered. “It has been a long time since I laid eyes on him. Where he was going he will not return.”
“I suppose not,” Saeros said.
“You wish to know about the King’s daughter,” Ónarr asked.
“You know where she is,” Finëar asked excitedly.
“I saw her once, but no more,” he answered. “She took to the wind you might well say.”
“Even the wind has direction,” Saeros snapped.
“So it does,” Ónarr quipped. “And neither she nor the wind were going in mine.”
“What are you doing,” a voice said. I turned to see Êlengolas. I put my finger to my mouth.
“Well,” Finëar continued. “Should either one find their way anywhere near you, I suggest you send word to King Thingol as quickly as possible.”
“I will gladly do as you command,” Ónarr said.
I quickly led Êlengolas down the hall into darkness as I heard footsteps heading toward the door. The three left the armory together without suspicion.
“You realize it is unseemly to listen to the private business of others,” Êlengolas said.
“When you stop doing it, then tell me again how unseemly it is,” I answered.
“Was that Ónarr of Nogrod,” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “He has seen Lúthien.”
“When?”
“He did not say.”
“Orothôn, the whole point of secretly overhearing private business is to actually glean some useful information.”
“I believe she has followed Beren on his quest.”
Êlengolas looked at me, his brow raised.
“Could you be more specific,” he asked.
“Êlengolas.”
“Where else would she have gone,” he asked. “If such an event had happened, then she will return upon the news of his death.”
“You think a messenger from Angband is going to send her word to Menegroth saying, ‘We regret to inform you we have killed the beloved of the King’s daughter.’”
“It is Angband,” Êlengolas began. “They would not be so inclined to be courteous.”
“It is also a place no one returns from,” I said. “All I am saying is that she is still with us.”
“Not if she followed Beren on his quest,” Êlengolas said. “Do not tell anyone—especially your wife. She will tell half the ladies in the court and create a false sense of hope.”
“False sense of hope,” I asked.
“Yes,” he began. “If she indeed has followed him anywhere, there is little hope she will return. Not without him. Come, it is almost time for dinner.”
I sighed and reluctantly followed him toward the Great Hall. I could not help wondering what Ónarr did not say and how much he knew.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 11-28-2019
The day began as usual—the court of Menegroth went about its routine catering to the whims of King Thingol and Queen Melian. On this day, in spite of the endless blue skies and nature rendered to the height of its beauty, the loss of Lúthien weighed heavy on our hearts. Then, he came—an elf of unknown origins approached the gates of Menegroth.
I was standing inside the vestibule the the gates were opened as he approached.
“What business have you in Doriath,” one of the guards asked the elf with hair as dark as night.
“I have come to see Her Majesty, Queen Melian,” the elf said softly—his crystal grey eyes startling the guard as he glanced at him. “I am Eöl of Nan Elmoth.”
Iarûr appeared from the Throne Room in that moment.
“What business do you have with Queen Melian,” the guard demanded.
“Eöl,” Iarûr said to the elf. “I did not expect you to come into Doriath. The glory of Menegroth offends you as much as the Girdle of Melian repels you from seeking the company of your kin.”
“Yet, I stand before you, do I not,” Eöl answered smiling. Even in darkness, his elven beauty was undeniable.
“Let him pass,” Iarûr commanded. “Their Majesties are expecting him.”
Reluctantly, the guards stood down and Eöl entered and followed Iarûr was as Finëar approached.
“Eöl has come into Menegroth,” he asked me, surprised.
“I do not know of him,” I answered.
“He is kin to the King,” he began. “He was lost to us for some time; since long before the rising of the Daystar.”
“He requested to see the Queen,” I said.
“Yes, of course he would,” he answered. “She has known where he resides since the creation of Menegroth. He may live beyond these borders but he owns his life to her protection whether he admits to it or not. His time spent in the company of the naugrim has made him a master smith—if not a bit reclusive.”
He went on his way and I too my leave to find Êlengolas. I found him in the armory with Súlwë. They were overseeing the inventory of its contents at the request of Elmo.
“What brings you to the pits of darkness, Orothôn,” Êlengolas asked as he wrote on a scroll held by two young elven boys as Súlwë counted swords.
“What is there to do,” I asked sitting on a bench. “Iarûr is attending to the King just now.”
“So, you have met Eöl,” he answered.
“You know of him,” I asked.
“Of course,” he answered. “He likes the short ones.”
“The naugrim,” one of the young boys quipped.
“Yes,” Êlengolas said sweetly. “What have I said about speaking while I am working?”
“You said not to do so,” the other elf piped up.
“Êlengolas,” I said.
“What,” he asked. “My duties require complete concentration.”
“Three hundred and thirty-three swords,” Súlwë said.
“Thank you,” Êlengolas answered, writing.
“What do you know of this Eöl,” I asked.
“What I know I learned from Eäros,” he answered. “Before we came into Doriath.”
“Before,” I nearly yelled. They all stopped working and looked at me.
“Súlwë,” would you be so kind to take the boys to have a bite to eat?”
“It is about time,” one of the boys said helping the other roll the scroll.
“Come,” Súlwë said to them. “I will tell you more about Valinor.”
The boys cheered as they ran out fo the room ahead of Súlwë.
“You certainly know how to clear a room, Orothôn,” Êlengolas said.
“You know how long it has been,” I asked. “Oropher was a child then.”
“Yes,” he started. “And now he is not.”
“What did Eäros say of Eöl?”
“Nothing of great importance,” Êlengolas began. “He was with them then he was no more. Poor thing wandered off from their group before they came upon us.”
“He looks feral,” I said.
“I suppose you would as well if you only had naugrim to keep you company.”
“They are not feral, Êlengolas,” I said.
“They are wild,” he answered.
“They are stone masters and smiths.”
“So, they have a pastime,” he answered.
“You should have said something,” I said.
“What should I have said that the Queen did not already know,” he asked. “Obviously, he did not wish to be found.”
“How would anyone know what is in someone’s heart?
“I do not know what is in his heart but from what I have been told, the awakening of Angband he blames on the King.”
“N one but Morgoth woke up Angband,” I answered.
“Do not be so quick to think so,” he said. “What would have been had he remained on the path? Would we be here? Would not Valdôr still be with us?”
“No one knows the answer to that,” I said. “It is not ours to question.”
“I forgot how obedient you are to the plight of destiny,” Êlengolas said angrily. “You question nothing. You think all things happen for a reason.”
“Do they not,” I growled.
“Why do they,” he asked. “Why do they happen if we do not let them happen? Are we slaves to time and circumstance or do we not have the ability to think for ourselves?”
“We are here because we chose to be here,” I said. “We chose to remain with our kin.”
“Then, allow that same courtesy to Eöl,” Êlengolas said, calming down. “Time and circumstance gave to him the choice to become the elf he is. Nothing I could have said then would have changed what is now.”
Êlengolas was right. In his way, he had become wiser in his fear and doubt.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 11-9-2019
I said nothing to Oropher about my vision. If he suspected anything, he said nothing. I put it out of my mind and life became routine once more. We heard little of the world beyond Doriath for a time that seemed longer than it was—when we returned to the realities of the world.
I was in the throne room with Orowen and Mîrwen early one morning before I was to meet Iarûr in the library.
“This younger generation of elves are so ambitious,” Orowen said to Mîrwen.
“Why do they wish to wait to start a family? Amdir wishes to follow Oropher’s example.”
“I do not know, Nana,” Mîrwen answered. “But I know Nimeithel agrees with her husband.”
“I have heard nothing from Anadriel,” Orowen said. “She keeps busy with Nimloth and Ëarmîr.”
“From what I understand, Nimeithel has her own hands full keeping up with Lúthien,” I added. “I do not know when she would find the time to start a family.”
“Have you not heard,” Orowen began. “Lúthien will have new accommodations soon.”
“New accommodations,” I asked curiously.
“On uncle’s orders,” Mîrwen said. “For her safety.”
“What could be safer than Menegroth,” I asked. “Are you sure you heard correctly?”
They nodded as Oropher approached with Celeborn.
“Good morning, Ada,” he said cheerfully.
“Have you heard of new accommodations for the Princess Lúthien,” I asked.
Celeborn looked down as Oropher sighed.
“I think you should come with us,” Oropher said.
I left with them for a short journey to a place where builders were constructing something around a tree. Overseeing the workers were Thingol, Elmo and both Galathils.
“This should keep my daughter secured and well-placed to have her ladies attend to her every whim,” I heard Thingol say.
As he turned to leave, we bowed to him.
“This should make things easier for Nimeithel,” he said to Oropher.
With that, he left with Elmo and his son.
“Galathil,” Celeborn said to his brother. “How are things?”
“Father was instructed to have me ensure things are done quickly and to the liking of the king.”
“May I ask what endangers the king’s daughter for him to go to such measures,” I asked.
“Love, I am afraid,” Galathil said. “What else is there?”
Oropher rolled his eyes.
“What is on your mind, son?”
“Nothing, Ada,” he said.
“Amdir and I overheard Saeros speaking to Iarûr,” Celeborn began. “Before you say it, Brother, I know it was bad form but they were in the hall in which we were walking.”
“You grow more like your wife every day,” Galathil said.
“As I was saying,” Celeborn continued. “Daeron informed the king of his daughter’s plans. I know not what they were, but I am quite sure it was her desire to follow the mortal on his quest.”
“Beren,” I asked. “How would anyone know where he is or if he lives?”
“There is no better way to know than to search,” Galathil said.
“So Thingol wishes Hírilorn turned into her gilded cage for her safety,” Celeborn added.
“That is rather extreme,” I whispered.
“These are dangerous times,” Galathil said.
“Made all the more dangerous by such a monstrosity,” Oropher added. “If she can get out of Menegroth, she will get out of this.”
“It is my duty to make sure that does not happen,” Galathil said sternly. “Our dear cousin is a bit unruly, as you well know.”
Oropher left abruptly and I went after him.
“Oropher,” I said as I caught up to him. “What is bothering you?”
“I can assure you, Father,” he began as he stopped walking. “Lúthien will not remain in that place for long.”
“How are you so sure,” I asked.
“There is nothing in this world that can keep the heart from what it will do for love, no matter how foolish.”
“It can be said to apply to a father for his daughter,” I answered. “We will do many foolish things for love.”
“Perhaps,” Oropher said more calmly. “But of two loves, only one will break its chains and change this world forever.”
He left me alone in shock at his words. Who was this man I called son and where were these profound revelations coming from?–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 9-22-2019
“Two faces at one time intimately attached to the folds of eternity forever linger in uncertainty.”
Iarûr closed his book and put his quill aside. He looked at me—his gaze seemingly searching my soul for the answers to everything.
“I will not ask you what you are thinking, Iarûr,” I began, turning to my work. “It is always something that brings with it self-reflection.”
“For that, you should be grateful,” he said. “But today, my mind lingers on something less affirmative.”
“You worry about the mortal,” I asked.
“No more than I worry about us all,” he said. “Save what Queen Melian has seen and how best to put it down for future generations, I worry no more than usual.”
“I am afraid to ask so I will refrain,” I said, smiling to myself.
“Your curiosity is showing, Orothôn,” he said. “You do not hide it well.”
“I cannot hide anything from you, Iarûr,” I said, looking at him. “I would do well if my thoughts could whisper.”
“The world is changing, my friend,” he began. “Not for the better.”
“Êlengolas said peace is a time for scheming,” I said.
“He is right. No one schemes during a time of war. They are immersed in killing each other.”
“Hence, the scheming,” I added.
“Hence the wars that will come again to us.”
I sighed—it was the only emotion I had left anymore. The thought of battle brought uncharted memories of death and destruction. They were things I did not wish to become commonplace.
**** **** **** ****
I left the repository to find my family. My desire to be near them was overwhelming. A feeling of dread ran through me like rolling fire—I knew this war would be unlike any other. Iarûr did not have to say a word—his eyes told me more than he could express otherwise. As I walked through the halls leading toward the throne room, they seemed darker than usual—the candlelight appeared to grow darker and the halls longer. The echo of my footsteps faded behind me as an eerie silence surrounded me.
“Orothôn,” a voice said from a distance. I looked behind me and saw only darkness—an abysmal void of despair. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. I said nothing as I continued on my way.
“Orothôn,” the voice said again. When I looked before me, I saw Valdôr standing before me. I screamed and fell to the floor.
“Valdôr,” I whispered.
“Orothôn,” he said, smiling. “It is good to see you, my friend.”
“You died in Ossiriand,” I stammered.
“I did,” he answered. “You did not.”
I knew then it was Valdôr. He reached down to help me up. He was as real as any other elf. When I was standing, I noticed the halls had returned to their regular appearance. Valdôr was still standing before me.
“Are you a vision,” I asked.
“I know you have them,” he started. “Though you keep them from Mîrwen.”
“I do not wish her to know.”
Valdôr gave me a smirk.
“This is Mîrwen, Orothôn,” he said. “Do you think she does not know?”
“I hope she does not know. Why are you here?”
“You know well why I am here,” he answered. “The world is changing and not for the better.”
“Iarûr said as much,” I said. “You heard him?”
“Where I am, I see what the living cannot,” he said. “I know what Queen Melian has known from the beginning of time. Darkness will fall again upon this world and last many seasons.”
“Then all is lost,” I said.
“With darkness always comes light, Orothôn, Valdôr said calming. “There is hope.”
“I am afraid waiting for hope is something for which I have little patience,” I said, frustrated.
“Hope comes when it is ready,” Valdôr said. “It is not for you or anyone to command.”
“Then why have any at all,” I asked.
“Because it is the only thing you have more of than time.”
I stared at Valdôr. His words were far more than I wanted to hear but I knew he was right.
“My hope will lie in Oropher,” I whispered.
“And his will lie in his son,” he said. “And mine shall be there by their side when hope again rises in this world, Orôthon.”
Before I could say another word, my name was spoken by another voice.
“Orothôn,” it said. I looked to see Eldôr standing before me in his father’s place with Amdir. “Are you feeling well?”
I looked around and realized I was standing in the vestibule by the main gates.
“I am quite well, Eldôr,” I answered.
“Oropher was looking for you,” Amdir said. “He is in his chambers.”
“Thank you, Amdir,” I answered. “I will be on my way.”
Hoping they did not see me speaking with myself, I quickly left them and made my way to Oropher’s room.––TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 9-13-2019
Note to @staff: They are Orlando Bloom as Legolas and Lee Pace as Thranduil. They are wearing clothes. Duh. This is also a book excerpt.
One afternoon not long after my son and I wondered about Lúthien’s comings and goings, I was with Mîrwen taking a walk through the forest. The day was cool; the only warmth came sparsely from sunbeams finding their way to us between the infinite branches. It was a rare occasion for us—a moment away from the duties of the court—but it was Orowen that gave us a not toward a pleasant distraction.
“It is a beautiful day,” Mîrwen said. “How long it has been since I have been outside Menegroth.”
“Remind me to thank your mother for allowing such an excursion,” I said. “I know how engaged Queen Melian keeps her ladies.”
“Her mind lies elsewhere this day,” she answered. “She is concerned about her daughter.”
“The Queen has learned of her wanderings,” I asked smiling to myself. “It was only a matter of time, I suppose. Nimeithel could not keep up with her.”
“As it has always been,” she said. “I have it on good authority that the princess cast a spell over someone.”
“You know of Daeron,” I asked, surprised.
“Daeron?”
“He is smitten with her.”
“Perhaps,” Mîrwen began. “But Lúthien’s heart belongs to another.”
“Do you know the name of this elf,” I asked.
Mîrwen stopped abruptly, her face drained of its color.
“What is the matter?”
“Her love is not of the Edalië,” she murmured. “He is a mortal man. One of the Atani as Iarûr calls them.”
It was one of the lore come to life. The rumors from the East proven true. I became both frightened and fascinated.
“I know King Things will not be pleased.”
“He is furious,” Mîrwen said. “His anger will not be abated. That is why Mother dismissed us from our duties.”
“Why?”
“This man has been sent for.”
We looked at each other—one searching for the soul of the other.
“Whom di they send,” I asked.
“No one,” she whispered. “Lúthien went after him on her own.”
I looked toward Menegroth. The fortress loomed over Doriath with a watchful eye. I knew those eyes would turn inward; its gaze harsh in judgment.
“We need to return to court,” I said. “Now.”
Mîrwen nodded as I took her hand and walked home as quickly as we could. I nearly stumbled at the bridge but managed to maintain some composure. As the gates opened, the vestibule leading to the throne room was replete with Elves trying to catch a glimpse of the Atan. They stood silent as the voice of Thingol filled every hall. It was thine I heard another voice. Holding Mîrwen’s hand tighter, we slowly made our way through the crowd. Once within the doorway we stopped at the moment the Atan held aloft a ring that shimmered green. The court whispered among themselves.
“He is Beren, son of Barahir,” Êlengolas whispered to me. “He has the heart of the fair Lúthien but has yet to win the confidence of the king.”
“When did he arrive,” I asked him quietly as King Thingol and Beren continued to speak. I could see Queen Melian and Lúthien were troubled.
“Not long after you and Mîrwen left,” he said. “I can say this meeting has not left Daeron unamused.”
“I would think not.”
As Thingol handed down his command to the brave but disheveled young man, I glanced around at the faces of the elves. I tried to read their expressions but many remained stoic as Beren accepted his challenge for the hand of his beloved. Even I knew this was a futile bargain for Thingol would never allow anyone to take his daughter to wife he deemed unworthy—no matter his bravery.
At that moment, the elves parted to allow Beren to take his leave. The young Atan came into view. There was nothing remarkable about him—he looked like one of us, save for his ears. A determined look he had on his face as he made his way through a sea of curious elven onlookers. His countenance was noble; his gentle eyes glancing in our direction. He nodded toward us as he left the throne room and departed Menegroth.
“Should he live to see us again,” Êlengolas began. “I pray I am alive to see that day.”
“How do you mean,” I asked, perplexed.
“He seeks to claim from Angband that came from Valinor by way of Morgoth. The victor of the Noldo at Dagor Aglareb has done nothing to keep evil at bay.”
“We are at peace,” I said.
“Peace is a time for scheming in Angband,” he continued. “I am afraid this will bring about the wars of the ages.”
We said nothing more. Mîrwen looked on in despair as she embraced me. I had lived to fight again.––TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 8-21-2019
Note to @staff: This is Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn. Duh. This is also a book excerpt.
I took my place beside Mîrwen—I marveled at how she radiated when she smiled at me. We stood with Elmo and Orowen, Galadhon and Celebriel, Galathil and Nárwen on either side of King Thingol and Queen Melian. Oropher, Amdir, Galathil, and Eäros stood with their wives beside Celeborn and Galadriel as they stood before the court to take their vows.
“Celeborn, son of Galadhon,” Daeron began. “You have chosen Galadriel?” “I have,” Celeborn said proudly.
“And you, Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin,” another elf said to her. “You have chosen Celeborn?”
“I have,” Galadriel said gazing into Celeborn’s eyes.
Daeron and the elf bowed to Things as he stood to address the couple.
“I say to you both, you have my blessing.”
They shared a kiss and the Great Hall erupted with cheers. Servants cleared the hall to prepare for evening celebrations as we left with the family into an adjacent room beyond the thrones. Once there, I noticed King Thingol speaking to his queen quietly across from us. The door opened.
“Saeros,” Thingol said to the elf that entered. “Come.”
I recognized him as the other officiant. Unlike most elves in the service of the king, he was a Nandor. Today was his first official duty as a member of the council. Graceful and fair, his demeanor reminded me of Denethor.
“That was a beautiful ceremony,” Orowen began. “It was indeed the respite from the goings-on beyond these walls we needed.”
“If you are referring to the sundering of the lands around Beleriand by the sons of Fëanor, Fingolfin, and Finarfin, then yes, it was,” Galadhon said quietly.
“It is your son’s wedding day,” Elmo began sternly. “There will be none of that.” “Where has Celeborn gone to,” Mîrwen asked, looking around.
“He is probably with his brother and his cousins,” I said. “His bride was last seen with Lúthien and her ladies.”
“I am rather looking forward to this evening,” Galathil said. “How long has it been since we have found cause to celebrate?”
“Too long,” I said.
Shortly, we found ourselves summoned to the Great Hall again for feast and merriment into the night. When I was not dancing with Mîrwen, I spent my time observing my kin enjoying themselves. Even Súlwë found a measure of happiness as he danced with Galadriel. For a moment, it seemed the past was forgiven.
**** **** **** ****
One morning not long after, I lay in bed—my eyes shut with my mind drifting peacefully in tranquil darkness. I felt Mîrwen move closer to me, her lips touching mine. I opened my eyes to find her looking at me. We kissed again and soon we were lost in each other’s arms.
“How is my wife this morning,” I asked.
“She is very happy,” she said.
She kissed me again, but I did not respond.
“What is the matter?”
“It is too quiet,” I answered. “Something is about to happen.”
“Do not be silly,” Mîrwen said, kissing me again.
There was a knock at the door. Mîrwen frowned at me as I smiled at her.
“I told you so,” I whispered. “One moment, if you will,” I said to the door.
Mîrwen rose from our bed and covered herself with her robe.
“Enter,” she said.
When the door opened, several ladies entered. I recognized two of them.
“Good morning, Nimeithel; Valdúril.”
“Orothôn,” Nimeithel said as she turned to Mîrwen. “Wonderful news! Níndi is with child and Galathil has asked Meriel for her hand.”
“That is wonderful news,” Mîrwen cried gleefully.
“Yes,” I began. “Wonderful.”
They all turned and looked at me for what seemed a lifetime.
“Apologies, my love,” Mîrwen finally said.
She motioned for the ladies to follow her to her dressing corner so I could properly cover myself in my robe. It was then another knock came. I sighed deeply.
“Enter,” I said as I sat down on the bed. It was Êlengolas and Finëar.
“You are not in bed,” Finëar said.
I pointed behind me.
“Oh,” he said again.
More dressers entered as Mîrwen emerged dressed for the day. She came to me and whispered into my ear.
“Until later,” she said as she kissed my cheek.
I nodded and she disappeared into the hall with the ladies.
“I do not wish to know,” Êlengolas began. “Please keep that to yourself.”
I let out a weak laugh as the dressers got to work.
“Any word from court other than Galathil’s engagement?”
“Lady Galadriel has left Beleriand,” Finëar said.
“Why,” I asked.
“It is nothing,” Êlengolas added. “She went to see her brother.”
“The king allowed this,” I asked.
“He cannot deny her such a request even as he and his brothers are exiled.”
“Did Celeborn leave with her?”
“No, he remains,” Finëar answered. “He has duties to attend to here.”
“He is the grandson of the king’s brother. Let no grudge go unheld,” Êlengolas said as the dressers finished and left.
The three of us made our way toward the Great Hall.
“Where does Finrod make his home,” I asked.
“Not far from our southwest borders,” Finëar said. “The sons of Fëanor are our north and east.”
“Do not forget Fingolfin and his sons,” Êlengolas said. “They occupy territory in the Northwest regions. All is right with the world.”
“For now,” I said to myself as we continued on our way.
**** **** **** ****
As the years went on, our world began to grow. There were noticeably more elves and naugrim walking the hills and valleys of Arda. After the birth of Eäros and Níndi’s son Ëarmîr, Galathil wed Meriel. Not long thereafter, their daughter Nimloth was born.
In the days following, my visions became more frequent and vivid. I told no one of the darkness and the despair I saw but Oropher seemed to understand whenever I became distant from friends and family.
There were rumors out of Ossiriand from the remnants of the Laiquendi still residing there. A new creature had appeared. Unlike the naugrim, it was said to be far more pleasant to look upon, yet their presence was unwelcome. Saeros would scoff at the stories of his lost people as fantasy as their plight of living under the eyes of two sons of Fëanor was less than ideal.
Queen Melian, however, took these rumors to heart. She said very little on the matter except to tell us not to dismiss these tales out of hand for creation continues under the Heavens. After a while, the rumors would be put aside and we went on with our lives—until the night when the rumors came within the borders of Doriath.
For elves, the night brought us comfort. We awoke beneath the stars so it was not uncommon for any of us to find ourselves outside on cloudless nights lost in thought. On nights such as this, Lúthien would wander out of the palace. It was unclear why—for it had started to become routine. Upon her return each time, her behavior seemed changed. Her cousin Galathil fell suspicious first—telling Oropher she was almost tolerable. Still, no one said a word. It was in her nature, we told ourselves.
One moonlit night, I went to find my son. He was on watch in the keep. When I arrived, he was lost in thought, gazing into the sky.
“What is on your mind, son,” I asked.
“Not a thing,” he said, turning his gaze toward me. “I was enjoying the view.”
I went to join him at the window. It was one of the most beautiful nights I had seen.
“What a view it is,” I said. “It is breathtaking.”
“Perhaps if we were outside,” he began. “I would love to take Nimeithel for a walk.”
“There will be other nights,” I said. “How is Nimeithel?”
“She has been tasked to look after Lúthien,” he answered. “To see where she wanders on the orders of grandmother. She thinks Lúthien has found a new place to wander but she wants to make sure it is not too far from Menegroth.”
“Has she returned,” I asked.
“She never left,” Oropher laughed. “Lúthien escaped before she could follow.”
We look out the window and saw Daeron leaving—crossing the bridge swiftly.
“Where is Daeron going,” I asked.
Oropher looked for himself.
“I do not know, but he has been often wandering out of Menegroth as of late searching for Lúthien.”
“Perhaps he goes for the king,” I said.
“The king does not know,” he answered.
“How is that possible?”
“I cannot say,” Oropher began. “But he does not know Daeron is in love with his daughter.”
“I beg your pardon,” I cried.
“It is true, Ada,” he said. “I do not know how no one has noticed how he looks upon her.”
“Everyone looks upon Lúthien with high regard,” I said.
Oropher laughed.
“He looks upon her as I look upon Nimeithel or Eldôr looks upon Valdúril. He is in love but it is unrequited.”
I looked out again to see Daeron returning from his outing. Even at a distance, I could see he was infuriated.
“He is not happy,” I said.
“How can you tell,” Oropher asked. “He always looks that way.”
“Something has him overwrought,” I said. “Perhaps I should go after him.”
“There is no need to,” Oropher said pointing into the night.
I saw Lúthien coming across the bridge and into the gates. We looked at each other perplexed. I would not be long before the answer to our questions would come walking into the court of King Thingol.––TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 8-03-2019
Little else was said thereafter as the court was preparing for the wedding of Celeborn and Galadriel. The proposal did not come as a surprise to anyone—they made little attempt to hide their affection for one another. The ladies thought it would be a wonderful respite from thoughts of things that still weighed heavily on King Thingol.
We had seasons now that showed the passage of time in Doriath. Leaves began to change colors and fall from tree branches to blanket the forest floor beneath as nature’s quilt. There came autumn rains and winter snow with the cooling air that chilled our breath when we spoke. The elflings enjoyed the seasons; finding new things to do outside to entertain themselves. I would catch Oropher and Eldôr building elves of snow when they caught a chance from their duties.
When all was green once more, the Great Hall was filled with flowers and adorned with drapes of matching colors in preparation for the matrimonial celebration. Celeborn spent most of his time with his brother, Galathil, Oropher, and Amdir when he was not with his father.
The day began calmly enough—I was lying in bed alone as Mîrwen had left at daybreak to attend to Galadriel. I knew the day would not be interrupted by war. We were living in a time of great peace. Even Círdan had returned to Doriath for the occasion from Eglarest. As I lay looking up at the elaborately carved stone ceiling, I found my mind drift into thoughts unknown. The room seemed to change as it morphed into the forest of my past.
There were vines twisted around the trunks of trees and creatures with several legs sprouting of their smaller bodies. They spewed a silken cord that ensnarled the treetops. Even as the sun seemed to shine, there was a darkness that fought against its light. I suddenly realized I was walking through this world—searching for someone.
Soon I found her; a maiden in a green cloak standing in a clearing where the only ray of sun beamed down. Her back to me, she remains motionless as I moved toward her slowly. When I was upon her, I spoke.
“Do I know you, my lady,” I asked.
She turned toward me. Her face was beautiful save for her eyes—only large black holes looked back at me.
“Taur-e-Ndaedelos,” she said in a raspy voice that echoed through the forest. “Taur-e-Ndaedelos.”
I screamed. I looked around and realized I was in my chambers and sitting upward on my bed. A knock came to the door.
“Enter,” I said. I was still shocked at what I had seen. Oropher entered.
“Ada,” he began. “Are you well? You look shaken.”
“I am fine, son,” I answered. “Am I late for the ceremony?”
“No,” he said sitting at the end of the bed. “It does not begin for some time. I came to see after you.”
“Did your mother send you,” I asked.
“No,” he answered. “I heard you speaking to someone. Who were you speaking to?”
“You heard me speaking to no one,” I said. “I am the only one here as you can see. Perhaps you heard someone in the hall.”
“I heard you ask someone if you knew them.”
My blood ran cold. How could he hear my thoughts?
“It was not me,” I lied. I wanted to know if he believed me.
“You said, ‘do I know you, my lady’.”
“It was nothing,” I answered.
“You were having a vision,” Oropher said. “I know because I have had the same one many times. The lady with death in her eyes.”
I nodded. I wanted to know more yet feared anything else my son would reveal. Instead, he nodded in agreement.
“We will keep such things to ourselves,” he finally said. “For now, today is for Celeborn.”
I sighed deeply. I was relieved he decided to speak of something new.
“How is he,” I asked.
“Terrified,” he answered with a laugh. “Though much of his fear comes from what Eldôr has said to him.”
“Like father, like son,” I said to myself thinking about Valdôr. “Be grateful it was not Êlengolas that spoke with him.”
“It is not too late,” he said rising. “The day has only begun. Do you wish me to stay with you while you prepare?”
“That is not necessary, Oropher,” I answered. “I thank you for your concern. I will be fine.”
Oropher smiled as he headed for the door. He paused then turned around.
“I have great hope for the future,” he said. “Even if It is filled with darkness. For every night, there is a day.”
I knew what he meant—our vision was a foretelling. I smiled at him and the was gone. I decided it was time to rise. I did not wish to have any more visions. I rang for the servants and waited impatiently for their arrival. When they arrived, I was never happier for their annoyance. When I was dressed, I left quickly for the Grand Hall.––TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 7-22-2019
It did not take long for Súlwë to become accustomed to life in Menegroth. He was introduced at court under Nimernil though whenever he was with Oropher, he was called Súlwë.
The peace of the next few years gave way to the creation of the Elven Realms from the West to the Havens of Círdan to the East where Ossiriand for the fruit of life again. The darkness in the North seemed to have been silenced; as was told to us by Angrod. In the time of peace, I wondered if Oropher would start a family, but he remained more determined to wait. He knew better than I that this peace would not last.
When the sons of Fënor, Fingolfin, and Finarfin invited King Thingol to join them in the Feast of Reuniting, he decided against it even as the remaining elves of Ossiriand quickly accepted. He sent Daeron with Mablung in his stead. Iarûr told Êlengolas that it was to without complaint. Daeron did not wish to go but he was bound by duty to the king.
When they returned, Daeron spoke to no one but Thingol and the Queen. The court did not think on it long and the routine of daily life went on. On one occasion, I was with Oropher, Eldôr, Amdir, and Súlwë outside the palace. It was a crisp day—with endless blue skies; the sun beamed upon us with a subtle warmth over a gentle breeze. The waters fo the Esgalduin sparkled as the aquatic creatures created ripples made golden by the sun.
“What was it like in Alqualondë,” Amdir asked Súlwë.
“Before the battle, it was unlike anything you have ever seen,” Súlwë said. “It seems a lifetime since then. I wonder about my family. They must think I perished.”
“Did you know well the sons of Finarfin?”
“Yes, of course,” he smiled. “Their father married my sister Eärwen. There is a maiden among them. Her name is Altáriel. She was most beloved by my sister. Like her, she is the only girl of brothers.”
“She was left behind, then,” Oropher asked.
“Not her,” he answered. “She is quite headstrong. She is here with her brothers.”
“I wonder if we will ever see them,” Eldôr wondered aloud.
“Perhaps,” Súlwë said. “If only to visit their kin. Olwë, Elwë, and Elmo remain very close if only in spirit. I heard many tales of the journey even though like my sister I was born in Eldamar.”
“You did not miss much,” I said as I remembered Cuiviénen.
“I would like to see our home across the sea one day,” Eldôr said. “Father spoke of nothing of it all my life as if he had been there. I want to know if it is real.”
Amdir hit him in the arm.
“How can it not be real,” he asked. “Súlwë just came from there.”
“Is there more than Alqualondë,” Eldôr asked Súlwë.
“Yes, of course,” he said.
“Then I wish to see if the rest of it is real.”
We continued along the way when Súlwë suddenly stopped—his face frozen in a cold stare. We looked to see a group of elves walking toward us. As they came closer, I realized I had never seen them before. Most of them were fair-haired. Among them was the most lovely of elven maidens.
“Who are you,” Eldôr asked, taking a defensive stand with Amdir. “You are in the kingdom of King Thingol.”
One of the elves came forward to protect the most regal of them.
“It is alright, Legolas,” he said to his guard, motioning him to stand down.
“Many apologies for my companion. My cousin thought it best to send us with protection. I am Finrod, son of Finarfin. These are my brothers Orodreth, Aegnor, and our sister.”
“I am Altáriel,” she said. “You may call me Galadriel.”
They bowed to us.
“You are the one that sent Angrod,” I said.
“I did,” Finrod said. “He told us great things about His Majesty’s generosity.”
“How is Angrod,” I asked.
“He is well,” he answered. “He is attending to his uncle Fingolfin just now.”
“Come,” Oropher said. “I am sure His Majesty King Thingol will welcome you at Menegroth.”
Finrod smiled at us. We turned back toward Menegroth.
“It is good to see you again, Nimernil,” Galadriel whispered to Súlwë. “So far from home. My mother must miss her favorite brother.”
Súlwë said nothing. As we approached the bridge, we were met by Mablung and Beleg. Mablung greeted us.
“Finrod,” he said. “Good to see you again.”
“You as well,” Finrod answered.
“Legolas Greenleaf,” Mablung began. “What brings you so far away from your lord?”
“Turgon wished his cousins to have safe passage into Doriath,” Legolas answered.
There seemed an uneasy tension between them. Nonetheless, the remained cordial.
“You have done well,” Beleg said. “Shall we?”
We followed them across the bridge and into the gates of Menegroth.–TKWRTBook I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 6-16-2019
Note to @staff: This is a book. The photo–from a movie: See copyright information. Duh. Galadriel is fully-clothed.
We entered the Great Hall to see a group of elves—all simply dressed in white. They kept their heads bowed in silence. The court around them speaking in whispers.
“When did they arrive,” I whispered to Amdir.
“Not long ago,” he answered. “They have yet to meet the king. He was made aware just as we came for you.”
At that moment, Mablung and Beleg entered with King Thingol, Queen Melian; Elmo and Orowen not far behind.
“You come from Eldamar,” King Thingol asked as he sat on his throne beside his queen. One brave elf raised his head and stepped forward.
“Originally,” the elf said. “I am Angrod, son of Finarfin. I come at the request of my brother Finrod in Mithrim.”
King Thingol’s expression turned pensive. After a brief silence, he spoke again.
“Son of Finarfin,” he began. “What brings you into my kingdom on this day?”
“I am quite sure as sovereign, you have long known of the deeds done in this world under darkness.“
“I am,” he nodded.
“The battles endured in the North could hardly go unnoticed by anyone, for the Noldo has triumphed against the demons come forth from Angband.”
“You numbers must be great if you if you were able to send those creatures back to whence they came.”
“Of our numbers, they account for much of your kin, King Thingol,” Angrod said. “Your dear brother is our grandfather after all.”
King Thingol nodded.
“How is he,” Queen Melian inquired.
“I have not seen him, Your Majesty,” he answered. “Not for some time.”
She nodded—her expression hiding secrets I would never know.
“We have come to dwell in Arda for now,” Angrod continued. “The sons of Fëanor and the children of his brothers find solace here despite the dangers that linger here.”
As King Thingol brought down his decree, I noticed Elmo watching a particular elf that stood behind Angrod. His gaze was uncomfortable as the elf tried to avert his stare.
“So it shall be,” I heard Angrod say at last. “I shall tell the lords what you have told me. As a guest in your land, may it be one day, you are a guest in ours.”
King Thingol nodded and the elves bowed.
“As our guests,” King Thingol began. “Please, stay with us for now. You may leave in the morning for Mithrim.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Angrod answered.
“Iarûr, show our guest to their quarters.”
Iarûr motioned to the elves to follow him. I saw Elmo whisper to Galadhon. His son followed the elves as King Thingol and Queen Melian took their leave. As the court dispersed I could not help but wonder who the elf was the held Elmo’s fascination.
“Father,” Oropher began, breaking my thoughts. “I am going to attend to my wife. I will see you and mother for dinner.”
“Of course,” I said smiling.
He walked away and I found my mind wandering again. I decided I should find Mîrwen and went straight to our room. When I entered, I found Mîrwen already prepared for dinner.
“I did not see you at court,” I said.
“I was not there,” she said. “I was attending to other duties.”
“So you already knew about the elves from Mithrim?”
“Yes,” she said cheerfully. “You need to prepare for dinner. I shall call for the servants.”
As she walked toward the chamber bell, I stopped her.
“Who is the elf that your father was staring at?”
“I do not know,” she said. “I was not at court.”
“Mîrwen,” I began.
“What,” she asked.
I looked at her sternly.
“He is a son of Olwë,” she said. “His name is Nimernil.”
Olwë—a name I had not heard in a lifetime. I found myself confused.
“I do not understand,” I said. “Why would he be here?
“That, dear husband, I do not know.”
She went to ring the bell.
“Say not a word to anyone.”
Before I could ask another question, the dressers were upon me. I tried to put the events of the day behind me. We dined with little concern about anything. Nothing was amiss–save for the presence of the mysterious Nimernil. Angrod sat with King Thingol and Elmo—their conversation appeared as reminiscing. When dinner was done, I prepared to retire with Mîrwen when Orowen came to us.
“Orothôn,” she began. “Elmo seeks your company.”
“Where is he,” I asked.
“I do not know, but Galathil will take you to him.”
I looked to see him standing with Galadhon. Immediately, I knew it was about Nimernil. I went to them quickly.
“Take me to Elmo,” I said.
“This is why you should never tell our sister anything,” Galadhon teased. “She tells her husband.”
Galathil cut his eye at him and motioned for us to follow. When we reached an empty room below the Throne Room beside the armory, I noticed Elmo waiting with Eäros. He was looking far better than he had before the wars had begun. When we were alone, out of the darkness stepped the elf from before. He was as tall as elves are—his golden hair flowing past his shoulders. He looked at us—his grey eyes far less restless than they were in court.
“Are you whom they call Nimernil,” I asked.
For the first time, this elf smiled and laughed softly.
“That is what they call me, but it is not my name,” he answered. “I am Súlwë, the youngest son of Olwë.”
‘Why are you here,” Galadhon asked.
“I took leave from Alqualondë without my father’s knowledge. I had to know what was so precious in this world that would cause such destruction in the other.”
“Destruction,” Galadhon asked.
“There was an uprising,” he said, solemnly. “Let by Fëanor, son of Finwë. I know nothing of the circumstances. I just know our kin in Alqualondë suffered greatly.”
“My brother,” Elmo gasped. “Is he…?”
“No,” Súlwë answered. “He lives. But the price we paid was indeed enormous. I followed the elves out of our homeland. Those that did not take our ships from the Havens came across the Helcaraxë. It was these I followed from Araman.”
Elmo slowly took a seat on a bench in shock.
“That must have been horrible,” Galathil said.
“There were many that died on the way,” Súlwë said, his voice cracking as he tried to hide his sadness. “For those who made it, not even the rising of the Daystar could bring them light.”
We stood in silence; our voices could not find the words.
“You must go back,” I said finally.
“Impossible,” Súlwë said curtly. “Those who left are in exile. Though my hands are clean, I am afraid I am as well. What is left of home for me was lain to waste.”
“Stay with us,” Eäros said.
“Who knows of your true identity,” Elmo asked, distraught.
“No one,” Súlwë answered.
“Very well,” Elmo said calmly. “You may stay in my household but when a way is made, you will return to Olwë. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Uncle,” Súlwë answered.
Elmo nodded as he looked at me.
“He will stay with you, Orothôn. Oropher is the only I know that can keep a secret.”
“I beg your pardon, Father,” Galadhon said. “I am offended.”
“Do not be,” Elmo said. “Whatever you say to Celebriel she will keep from your mother. Same for Nárwen and Níndi. I take my leave.”
Elmo left with his sons close behind. I looked as Súlwë. “Welcome to Menegroth,” I said.–TKWRTBook I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 6-11-2019
I do not know how long we stood watching this new light that outshined the stars rise higher and higher. It was hard to step away but I longed to tell Mîrwen our son had returned. I turned around and nearly knocked her over.
“Mîrwen,” I said, startled. She kissed me tenderly then smiled.
“Our son is home,” she began.
“I was on my way to tell you,” I said as I looked around. Oropher was nowhere to be seen.
“He has gone in search of Nimeithel,” Mîrwen said. “She will be most pleased.”
“Of course. As will Valdúril. Have you come to see what has risen?”
“I have come for you, Orothôn,” she began. “Though this new marvel beckons to us all. It is comforting.”
“It is,” I said, taking her hand. “But you are more so to me.”
I kissed her like the first time. Everything seemed as it was before we had come into Doriath. We made our way into Menegroth toward our chambers for what would be known as the first night
As we lay together not long thereafter, our moment was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Shall we let them enter,” I asked Mîrwen.
“What would you say,” she asked. “Would you send them away? It could be a matter of grave importance.”
“It also could be nothing at all,” I answered.
The knocking continued. Mîrwen rose quickly and put on her robe. She looked at me. I sighed and got up and did the same.
“Enter,” I said.
When the doors opened, Iarûr entered with Finëar.
“You must come to the court quickly,” Finëar said. “It is a matter of grave importance.”
Mîrwen laughed at me as two ladies entered and took her behind our dressing screen.
“How grave,” I asked.
“It is nothing,” Iarûr began.
“Then why are you here,” I asked, glaring at Finëar.
“Why are you not dressed for court,” Finëar asked.
“Because it is most inconvenient to go to bed fully clothed.”
Two elven courtiers entered and began to dress me.
“Has King Things called an audience,” I asked.
“He is with Queen Melian,” Iarûr began as Mîrwen emerged impeccably dressed.
“Is Mother and Father with them,” she asked.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Finëar said, bowing. “Your brothers as well.”
“They are in the Great Hall,” she asked.
“No,” Iarûr answered. “They are outside. Your son Oropher and his wife are already there.”
The sound of my son’s name piqued my curiosity.
“Oropher,” I asked as my dressers finished and left with the ladies.
“Shall we,” Iarûr said as he motioned to the door. Mîrwen took my hand and we followed Finëar and Iarûr out of our room and toward the front gates. I noticed how silent things were, save for the echo of our footsteps. I started to fear something was amiss.
“Something must be wrong,” I whispered to Mîrwen. She said nothing as we continued on our way. Once we reached the gates, the guards opened them. A flood of bright light rolled into the hall. I was afraid to go further.
“It is alright,” Finëar said. “It is only the light of the Daystar.”
Slowly we walked into the world that once existed under the light of many stars. It was now a world filled with vivid color. Above us, the sky was a light blue as the light of the Daystar blinded anyone that tried to look upon it. I looked around—I should see other elves anew—their features distinct and even more beautiful. There were elflings playing in the crisp green grass beneath the canopy of tall trees; their branches covered in all forms of leaves of many colors.
“Nana,” I heard Oropher say as he embraced Mîrwen. Beside him was Nimeithel—breathtaking as ever in her new role.
“How is my son,” Mîrwen asked.
“I could not be happier,” he said.
“What about you, Nimeithel,” I asked.
“I feel the same as my husband,” she answered.
“How is Eldôr,” I inquired. In the joy of the moment, I found myself thinking of Valdôr.
“As to be expected,” Oropher said solemnly. “He learned of his father’s passing before the rising of the Daystar. I cannot imagine what he or Lothluin must be feeling.”
We fell quiet for a time—our own vigil to our beloved friend. He died beneath starlight—his life given so others could see this day.
It was the first day and it was received with a bittersweet reflection of our existence in a world we were never meant to live. I thought of the stories of Eldamar. I wondered if it existed—did this light steal from it eternal life? Every one of us remained in the light of day until it made its descent beneath the horizon. It was then the familiarity of our first life returned as the stars began to peek out of the coming of night. The moon began another journey across the sky as we made our way into the palace.
A grand banquet was held in celebration of the coming of time. Now we would know the journey of our lives by the passing of day into night.
It was not long before we became accustomed to the day. The warmth of the Daystar we now called ’the Sun’ was a welcoming comfort from the coolness of the night. We learned to tell time with the passing of days. With the Sun and the Moon came seasons and weather.
One day, I was outside walking with Oropher—speaking of things in the early afternoon.
“Have you given any thought to starting a family,” I asked.
“I have,” he said smiling. “But I am hesitant of it.”
“May I ask why?”
“If you admit that Nana put you up to asking such a question.”
I laughed.
“Do you think I would have acted on my own volition?”
“No,” he answered.
“Then tell me, what keeps you from starting a family?”
Oropher sighed. I could see something weighed heavily on his mind.
“I had a vision,” he began. “I saw many things I do not comprehend.”
“What things,” I asked. I wondered if he had inherited his mother’s gift of foresight.
“I saw war,” he began. “Far worse than we have ever seen. There was death everywhere with the coming of another creature.”
“Creature,” I asked. I thought of the Orcs that I fought Ossiriand. “Such as the evil horde that came out of the North?”
“They looked like us but they did not live as long. Then I saw a wood far from here in the East. It was cursed.”
“A cursed wood,” I asked perplexed. “These visions are frightening but why would that keep you from starting a family?”
“That is what Nimeithel asked,” Oropher said.
“And what was your answer?”
Oropher looked at me—his face stoic.
“I told her I was told to wait.”
“Told by whom,” I asked.
“That is what I do not know,” he started. “All I know is they were adamant about and unwavering in their request.”
“It was just a vision, Oropher,” I said. “Do not let it determine how you will live your life.”
“Who is Taurëa,” he asked.
I stopped abruptly as a child rant through me. I had not heard her name for so long.
“Where did you hear her name,” I asked.
“In my visions,” he said. “Who was she? Did you not know of her?”
“I knew here,” I said. “She was the mother of Denethor.”
Oropher’s face lit up with curiosity.
“She was close to Grandmother, was she not?”
“Yes, she was,” I said. “What did she say to you?”
“She said only that great things will come of me. Then she walked into the wood.”
“The cursed wood,” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “You know of what I speak?”
I nodded. I did not wish to tell him no more. I could see he wanted to know more but my rescue came in the form of Amdir and Eldôr.
“We were looking everywhere for you,” Amdir said as they approached.
“Yes,” I asked, relieved. “What is it?”
“We have guests in the court,” Eldôr said. “They have come a great distance.”
“From where have they come,” Oropher asked.
“From Eldamar,” Amdir said.
We stood there in shock for a time. We followed them back to Menegroth to greet the Eldar that had seen the home we never knew.
The walk to Menegroth was one of mourning—our heads bowed in silent procession. My thoughts were many; blurred by tears and heartache. How could I face Lothluin? What would I say to Valdôr’s son?
“How did he fall,” I whispered to Êlengolas. “How did Valdôr fall?”
“Bravely,” he whispered back. “That is all anyone needs to know.”
“What do I say to Lothluin,” I asked.
“Why is it your burden to bear, Orothôn,” he asked. “Let those that witnessed his death tell his wife and son.”
“You,” I asked. “Were you there?”
Êlengolas sighed deeply.
“I was,” he started. “It is my burden to bear. My daughter wed his son. Even now, I do not know if this ware will make either of my daughters widows but I have seen it make many—not the least of those, Lothluin. But I will do what I must. Valdôr was one of my dearest friends.”
I could hear him trying to hold back tears as spoke. I could not imagine what he had seen and I dared not ask him. We walked the rest of the way to Menegroth in silence. As we made our way toward the bridge, the distant sounds of howls and screams seemed to further destroy any hope we had left.
Galathil started to lead the few survivors of Ossiriand found alive—a small mingling of a few strong men, maidens and several elflings—toward the gates. We prepared to cross behind when a light illuminated the darkness from out of the West. King Thingol and Elmo ran through the soldiers to see. It was a flickering light with plumes as dark as a starless night rising into the Heavens.
“What is this,” Elmos asked his brother.
“It is the end of all of us,” King Things said. “Into Menegroth!”
We made our way across the bridge and through the gates as quickly as we could. Once inside, the ladies came to us frantically. In the confusion, Mîrwen found and embraced me.
“You returned,” she said.
“Yes, I said, dropping my sword. “I am one of the few.”
She looked at me—her eyes filling with tears as she followed my gaze to Êlengolas speaking with Lothluin. She fell into the arms of Valdúmîr. Mîrwen turned away.
“Is there word from the borders,” I asked.
“None,” she said. “I cannot bear the silence.”
I said nothing as my concern turned to Oropher. I knew we would both die of despair at the loss of our son.
“Go to Lothluin,” I said. “I will see you in our chambers after a while.”
Mîrwen nodded. I kissed her forehead and made my way down to the armory with the others. As I took off my armor, I somehow began to want to return to it. I sat down beside it on the wooden bench the length of the room. I felt a sensation foreign to me—a weakness ran through me and I desired to sleep as a newborn elfling. Êlengolas sat beside me looking as weary as I felt.
“How is Lothluin,” I asked. Even my voice felt tired.
“I know not her thoughts but her heart is broken,” he answered. “She waits for word of Eldôr with Valdúril. His return will give her hope.”
“It will give me some hope as well,” I said. “I know where he is, Oropher is not far. They are closer than brothers.”
“I believe they will return,” Êlengolas said. “They are too headstrong to die. Especially Oropher.”
I laughed—it seemed a lifetime since I had.
“True,” I said. “Oropher can be stubborn.”
“That is why I allowed him to marry Nimeithel. I knew with him she would always be safe.”
I smiled at Êlengolas. I put my hand on his shoulder.
“They will return.”
**** **** **** ****
Once I was bathed and dressed properly for court, I made my way towards my chambers. I thought of all the things I had seen in battle and wondered if there would come a time when such things would become only memory. When I reached the main hall, things were much quieter—only a few elves lingered near the gates. I turned to go to my chambers when I saw Iarûr and his wife Nimríel outside Finëar’s chambers.
“Is something the matter,” I asked. It had been some time since I heard from Finëar or his wife Nenduriel.
“You have nothing to fear, Orothôn,” Iarûr said. “Finëar is fine if but a bit rattled.”
“He was appointed to assist Iarûr in chronicling the war,” Nimríel said. “He has just returned from the western borders of Doriath.”
“Is that not where Oropher was sent,” I asked.
“I do not know,” Iarûr answered. “But I have not heard from my other chroniclers of yet. I suspect they will return soon.”
“We can only hope,” I said quietly. I continued on my way.
When I came to my chambers, I entered to find Mîrwen with Nimeithel.
“How are you, Nimeithel,” I asked her. She looked frightened though I knew the reason why.
“I was with Lothluin and my sister,” she began. “I cannot imagine how it must be to lose a husband.”
“And you will not know,” I said. “Nor will Valdúril. I know they will return.”
“Why are you so sure,” Mîrwen asked. “Is there word?”
“I know Oropher,” I said attempting to sound hopeful. “He is a strong and formidable warrior.”
“What evil did you see,” Nimeithel asked. “What evil will Oropher face?”
I did not want to tell her in fear of frightening both of them.
“They are strong, but he is stronger,” I said.
They stared at me—their eyes cutting through me like a sword through an orc. I could see my answer was less than acceptable.
“Orothôn, tell us what you have seen,” Mîrwen demanded sternly.
“What I saw I cannot describe in words you would understand,” I answered. “These creatures are beyond explanation.”
Nimeithel began to cry as Mîrwen comforted her. I felt guilty for saying anything at all. I sat down on the bed and watched them from across the room. The true horrors of Ossiriand were still fresh in my mind. I began to doubt my son would return. A knock came to our door.
“Enter,” I said, still deep in thought. It was Galathil.
“Orothôn, come,” he said.
I rose from the bed, looked at my wife and Nimeithel and feared the worst. We left quickly without a word. Once in the hall, we began walking swiftly toward the Great Hall.
“My son,” I began. “Is he dead?”
“I do not know,” Galathil began. “No one knows where he is.”
I stopped abruptly. Galathil motioned to me.
“What do you mean no one knows where he is?”
“He left his post,” he said. “Or that is what I was told.”
“What you were told,” I said angrily. “Who told you this?”
Galathil came to me.
“Amdir was with him and Eldôr at the start. Come with me, Orothôn. You may ask him yourself.”
I nodded and we continued on. Once we reached the hall, I realized a few elves had started to return from the borders. We found Amdir among them with his wife Anadriel.
“Go to my mother,” Amdir whispered to her. “I must speak with Father.”
She nodded and left us.
“What do you know of Oropher,” I asked.
“He left us not long after we were attacked,” he began. “He and Eldôr followed Aúrion to the southern borders.”
“Aúrion,” Galathil asked puzzled. “Was he not with Círdan in Eglarest?”
“No,” Amdir answered. “He came with Eäros. He collapsed by the gates.”
“What was he doing in battle then,” I asked.
“It was not fighting,” he said. “He was looking for anyone to go with him back to Eglarest.”
“With the blessing of Thingol,” Galathil asked.
“I do not know,” Amdir answered. “I only saw Oropher and Eldôr leave with him. Whether they were able to pass beyond the border I cannot say.”
I felt fear and anger—fear for Oropher’s well-being and angry at his actions.
“I need to find my son,” I said to myself.
“Where would you begin to look,” Galathil asked. “You have barely ventured anywhere save Ossiriand as it is. The Queen will not allow you to pass for such a journey. Not while those creatures remain anywhere near.”
“Then how would Aúrion get into Doriath or lead anyone out,” I asked, my voice growing louder. Before I could say another word, Celeborn entered excitedly.
“Ada,” he yelled, looking for Galadhon. He saw us and ran over. “Uncle, where is Father?”
“I have not seen him for some time,” Galathil told him. “Perhaps he is with your mother. What is wrong?”
“You must come outside,” he said. “There is something in the sky.”
“In the sky,” Amdir asked. “Are you mad, cousin?”
“Galathil saw it, too,” he answered.
“What is going on,” Elmo asked coming to us. “Celeborn, what are you going on about?”
“It is in the sky,” a familiar voice said. We looked to see Oropher standing with Eldôr.
“Oropher,” Amdir said smiling as he went to him. “Where have you been?”
I just stood there in disbelief.
“I told you they would return,” Êlengolas said as he passed on his way outside.
Oropher walked over to me and embraced me.
“You came home,” he whispered. “I knew you would. Come, see.”
I was too relieved to scold my only child. Out of curiosity, I made my way into the darkness. The world had changed. A faint light illuminated the earth with an ethereal glow. Without a thought, we walked beyond the gates and westwardly until we could see the light from what we would call the moon—rising slowly at the farthest point beyond where we had awakened. The faint sound of horns was heard and the rumblings that once shook us in tear seemed nothing compared to what would come to us not long after.
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