Often Beleg Strongbow came to Menegroth to seek him, and led him far afield, teaching him woodcraft and archery and (which he liked more) the handling of swords; but in crafts of making he had less skill, for he was slow to learn his own strength, and often marred what he made with some sudden stroke. In other matters also it seemed that fortune was unfriendly to him, so that often what he designed went awry, and what he desired he did not gain; neither did he win friendship easily, for he was not merry, and laughed seldom, and a shadow lay on his youth. Nonetheless he was held in love and esteem by those who knew him well, and he had honour as the fosterling of the King.
–J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Húrin, “Túrin in Doriath”
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
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
Yep, we’re back. In this episode, there is talk of elves sailing West as their world grows darker. While Thingol and Beren go after the wolf Carcharoth, there is chatter of what may be coming.
oh? did i hear you say elwë x eöl hatesex? yes? no? hahahaaaaaa that’s too bad here it is anyway
it’s policy around these parts that elves who live long enough eventually have gotten it on with most everyone. there’s only so much you can fill three thousand years with, and whatever social mores ended up developing later, those who woke at Cuivienen or were born pre-FA were probably pretty experimental
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.
