#elu thingol and melian
Chapter IV: Darkness and Light (Pt. IV)
It did not take long for the whole of Menegroth to learn of the news. Êlengolas gave his blessing before Oropher could finish his proposal. As with all princes of the realm, the only approval that mattered was that of King Thingol. Remembering the time I was brought before him was still fresh in my mind; the anxiety lost to the joy of being with my beloved.
Before the moment could arrive, the realities of the world beyond our walls of stone had started to threaten more than our happiness. The presence of the naugrim began to become commonplace. Though the ladies of the court shown displeasure with them, they said very little except in whispers.
King Thingol had ordered guards to protect us; no corner inside or out went empty. The last I would ever see Denethor was as he was leaving for Ossiriand for the last time. As he was walking away, he looked behind and waved at me with a quiet smile across his face.
As I was to take my leave, Elmo approached me.
Orothôn,” he began. “I wished to inquire about Oropher.”
“He is well,” I answered. “He is eager to marry Nimeithel.“
“So he is,” Elmo said. “We should all share in his optimism.”
“I do not understand,” I said.
“These are perilous times,” he said. “I wish my grandsons did not have to see such times. Neither should their children. I blame myself.”
“Whatever evil lies in this world is not your doing.”
“No, but had I continued on the path, we would not be here.”
“We will face this evil and defeat it,” I said. “It is fate that put us here in this place; in this hour.”
Elmo nodded and walked away—his head lowered. I worried for him. I went to find Mîrwen. As I passed Oropher’s room, I noticed Eldôr leaving.
“I heard you asked for Valdúril’s hand,” I said to him. “Congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you,” he said smiling. “I wished the same to Oropher. He has little to worry about as always.”
He waved at Oropher and went on his way.
Oropher was putting on a crisp white shirt sewn with silver thread.
“Hello, Ada,” he said. “Are you looking for Nana? She is attending to Queen Melian.”
“I know,” I said. “It was you I wanted to see.”
“Is something the matter,” he asked.
“No.”
“What is it, then?”
I sat on his bed thinking about Elmo’s words.
“You will go before King Thingol for his blessing.”
“I know,” he said, leaning against the post of his bed. “Eäros told me how it was for him. I am not afraid but I cannot speak for Eldôr.”
“I remember going before him,” I said without thinking. “For you, it will be different.”
“How different,” he asked curiously. “I am intrigued. Should I worry for Nimeithel?”
“No,” I answered. “But you are the son of the daughter of the King’s brother.”
“That means nothing to me,” he said softly. “I am nothing more than your son. It is all I know how to be.”
“That may be,” I began. “But that does not change what you are.”
“I am a subject of this realm,” he said. “I will inherit nothing nor do I wish to. I desire nothing more than what I have.”
I knew my son did not care to hear any more. I remembered the words of Orowen before we came into Doriath and ones spoken before. I stood up and looked at my son.
“Your humility is your crown,” I said. “Your courage is your mantle. They will serve you far greater than any title.”
I embraced him tightly. I wondered how I had raised a son such as this.
I let him go.
“I will be waiting for you in the Great Hall with your mother. Do not be late.”
“I will not,” he said. “You have my word.”
**** **** **** ****
The Great hall was filled with elves. All around it was decorated with reminders of nature. The colors once lit by the stars were vivid and bright. The faces I traveled beside were more alive than I remembered. Mîrwen approached me; she was more beautiful than ever.
"How is our son,” she asked, a broad smile crossing her face. “Is he as handsome as his father?”
“Far more,” I declared. “But your flattery will not go unrewarded.”
I gently kissed her as the ceremony began. King Thingol and Queen Melian entered with Elmo and Orowen close behind. Once they took their places, Oropher, Amdir, and Eldôr escorted Nimeithel, Anadriel, and Valdúril down the aisle to stand before the king.
“Amdir, son of Galathil,” Thingol began. “You have chosen Anadriel?”
“I have,” he said.
“And Anadriel, you have chosen Amdir?”
“I have,” she said.
“Oropher, son of Orothôn,” Thingol continued. “You have chosen Nimeithel?”
“I have,” my son said.
“And Nimeithel, you have chosen Oropher?”
“I have,” she said.
“Eldôr, son of Valdôr,” Thingol said once more. “You have chosen Valdúril?”
“I have,” he said.
“And Valdúril, you have chosen Eldôr?”
“I have,” she said.
“Well,” Thingol said. “I say to you all, you have my blessing.”
No sooner had he said those words when an elf burst into the hall. He was disheveled and weary. Anadriel recognized him instantly.
“Eäros,” she cried.
Níndi ran to her husband as the room filled with gasps.
“What is this,” Thingol asked the breathless elf on the floor.
“I come from the Falas,” Eäros said. “I bring word from Círdan. It has been attacked.”
Queen Melian stood up slowly.
“It has begun,” she said.
“Beleg! Mablung,” Thingol called to two elves nearby. “Call to arms!”
They nodded quickly and left. I turned to Mîrwen—her eyes already filled with tears. I kissed her quickly and went with the rest of the elven men from court to take my place in battle.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 3-23-2019
Images: ©2001, 2002, 2003. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. All Rights Reserved.
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Chapter III: Doriath (Pt. II)
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.
Images: ©2012, 2013, 2014. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Hobbit: The Unexpected Journey, The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug, The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies. All Rights Reserved.
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Chapter VIII: The Rise of the Fall (Pt. IV)
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
Images: ©2012, 2013, 2014. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Hobbit: The Unexpected Journey, The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug, The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies. All Rights Reserved.
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Chapter VII: Darkness Falls (Pt. I)
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
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
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Images: ©2001, 2002, 2003. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. All Rights Reserved.
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Chapter VI: The Second Awakening (Pt. III)
They remained with us longer than expected with Finrod’s brothers leaving only to return with Angrod. I assumed Things wished to see all the brothers of Finarfin. Life at court became routine again. Mîrwen was determined to see Oropher and Nimeithel start a family, but Oropher remained steadfast in his resolve to wait. I spent most of my days with Galadhon, Galathil, Iarûr, and Finëar learning about the histories and traditions of our people. It was long and laborious but necessary. Even as my earliest memories of Lake Cuiviénen were starting to fade, I realized their importance. Súlwë proved quite valuable in this endeavor—sharing the many tales his father Olwë with us. Whenever Daeron was with us, we said nothing of Súlwë and he never asked about “Nimernil” while he was in the library.
One evening, I was with Iarûr putting away the scrolls when I noticed how much we had done so far.
“There are more here than I realized,” I said as I began to roll them up. “I find it hard to believe so much time has passed.”
“So true,” he began as he finished writing. “Yet
“What do you remember, if I may ask?”
“I remember very little,” Iarûr said. “I think that was by design. If we knew everything, then what would we have to learn?”
“You make a very good point,” I began. “So we are learning what we already know.”
“What do we know,” he asked. “We are here. We were born and perhaps we will die—or not. All we know is what we have seen and little else. We speculate on the unknown hoping one day, somehow, the mystery will be solved. Perhaps there are some things meant to be unknown for a reason.”
“Are you looking to know everything,” I asked.
“I do not believe I want to know everything, Orothôn,” he said laughing. “Some things should remain a mystery forever.”
“True,” I agreed. “Just do not tell that to my wife.”
“The fairer of us know too much already,” Iarûr said. “That must be by design because it is inexplicable.”
As we laughed at ourselves, Finëar entered—his face flushed.
“What is it, Finëar,” Iarûr asked him.
“It is King Thingol,” he said. “He is angry. The court is in chaos.”
“What happened,” I asked approaching him.
“The sons of Finarfin revealed to him all that brought them into Arda,” he said groaning. “It was devastating.”
“Calm yourself,” Iarûr said. “What did you hear?”
“I do not know where to begin,” Finëar said as he sat on a bench. “There were jewels and fire and Morgoth…”
“What,” Iarûr interrupted sternly. “Did you say Morgoth?”
“Morgoth,” I asked.
“I did, Iarûr,” he answered.
Iarûr’s face began to lose its color. He looked at Finëar again.
“Are you sure you heard correctly,” Iarûr asked him.
“Yes,” Finëar answered. “I overheard the Lady Galadriel speaking with the Queen not long ago. I was sworn to secrecy when I was discovered. But tonight, all was revealed to the king. His anger was palpable. He cast them out of Doriath.”
“Galadriel as well,” I asked him thinking of Celeborn.
“No,” Finëar answered. “For she has found favor with the queen. But her brothers have gone.”
“Morgoth remains,” Iarûr whispered to himself. “Then this is not over.”
Iarûr looked across the room to see Súlwë standing by the entrance doors.
“They attacked my family for jewels,” he said—his face stoic.
Finëar nodded slowly, barely looking at him.
“I am sorry,” Finëar whispered.
Iarûr was dumbfounded. For the first time, he seemed at a loss for words.
“This is not the end of it,” I asked.
“No, Orothôn,” Iarûr said. “This is the beginning.”
Quickly, I made my way out of the library and toward the Great Hall. There were courtiers milling within the corridors whispering among themselves along the way. I saw little in their faces of the tales that were told as they all seemed to have heard something different.
“I see you have heard what has happened,” Êlengolas said as he approached me. “So Súlwë was right.”
“What did Thingol say,” I asked.
“To the court, very little,” he answered. “I am not privy to the king’s discussions beyond those four walls but whatever he said to his kin was not taken as well as they expected.”
“What little did he say, then,” I asked.
“We are not to speak of them in his presence,” Êlengolas answered. “Then he left us. He was angrier than I have ever seen him.”
“I am sure he was.”
“The Queen was none too happy, either.”
“Of course,” I said. “Why would she be?”
“She is a Maiar,” he whispered. “She knows far more than even the stars in the sky.“–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 7-9-2019
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Images: ©2001, 2002, 2003. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. All Rights Reserved.
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Chapter VI: The Second Awakening (Pt. II)
As we entered the gates, the court ceased its duties as they looked upon us—especially the elegant beauty of Galadriel. Amdir had gone ahead to send word to King Thingol of their guests. We approached the throne just as Amdir returned with the king with Daeron at his side.
“Finrod, son of Finarfin,” King Thingol said. “Welcome to Doriath.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Finrod answered. “Your generosity has preceded you.”
King Thingol smiled. He motioned to Finrod and his family to follow him away. When they had left, Mîrwen and Nimeithel approached us.
“Who were they,” Mîrwen asked.
“They come to us from Mithrim,” I said.
“They are the siblings of Angrod,” Oropher added. “I trust they all remain with us for a time.”
“The lady is quite lovely,” Nimeithel said.
“Quite,” I answered. “Lovely but peculiar.”
“Let us be on our way, Nimeithel,” Mîrwen said. “We must help prepare the Queen for tonight.”
Mîrwen kissed me and they were on their way. Súlwë looked on—his face tense.
“I need to find Êlengolas,” I said. “I shall leave you to your duties.”
Oropher, Súlwë, Eldôr, and Amdir nodded. I left them knowing where I would find Êlengolas. He was with Mablung and Beleg learning about Legolas.
“You are from Valinor,” I heard Êlengolas ask as I entered the hall outside the throne room.
“I am,” Legolas answered. His confidence was as crisp as his striking gray eyes and long golden hair.
“Are there others as you,” Êlengolas queried again.
“There is,” Legolas said. “He is called Glorfindel. From the House of the Golden Flower.”
I could see by Êlengolas’ expression I needed to interrupt.
“I am Orothôn,” I said quickly, greeting our new guest. “We met earlier.”
“It is a pleasure,” Legolas answered.
“How long will you be with us,” I asked.
“For as long as we are welcomed,” he said. “No longer.”
I thought his answer sounded unusual but I said nothing.
“Êlengolas, may I have a word?”
He followed me around a corner.
“The House of the Golden Flower,” he finally said laughing.
“You know our visitors are kin to the King,” I asked.
“Are they from the House of the Golden Flower?”
I hit his arm hard.
“What?”
“The ones he guards are kin to the King. They come from Mithrim.”
“They came from Valinor,” he said. “Why are these elves leaving the home we should be living in?”
“It is a long story,” I began. “I will speak of it later. Meanwhile, I expect you to mind your manners.”
Êlengolas glared at me.
“Orothôn, please,” he started. “I am not a child. Your royal duties do not require that you play nursemaid to me.”
“Only when Iarûr is absent,” I said, smiling.
“You know something,” he said.
“I do, but as I said before, I will speak of it later.”
“After dinner,” he said. He took his leave. I stood there thinking to myself as an uneasy feeling came over me. I went to my chambers to prepare for the evening.
**** **** **** ****
When we were in the Great Hall awaiting the entrance of the King and Queen, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Everyone was in their place—some were quietly chatting amongst themselves. Soon, the sound of music filled the hall and King Thingol, Queen Melian, their daughter Lúthien entered with Finrod, Orodreth, Aegnor, and Galadriel. It was then that Celeborn became enamored. It was hard not to notice as his face was glowing brighter than the lanterns in the room.
When everyone was seated, dinner was served. On this night, there were more delights than usual and everyone took advantage. Things were going well and my mind was put at ease. The celebration went on late into the night.
As promised, after dinner, I found Êlengolas and under the light of the moon. I told him all that I knew—from Nimernil to the coming of Finrod.
“Well,” he said when I finished. “That is quite a tale. Why did you not tell me this before?”
“I was sworn to secrecy.”
“Orothôn.“
“I did not know where to begin,” I said. “It was not until Finrod came that everything Súlwë said made sense.”
“When King Thingol learns of this, it will not go well.”
“You will say nothing,” I said.
“I do not have to say anything,” Êlengolas said. “I trust someone will say it to him.”
“Who would dare tell the King of such slaughter upon his brother’s house?”
“My guess would be someone from his brother’s house.”
“I do not think Súlwë will be the one to tell him,” I said. “He does not want to risk his identity to be revealed.”
“I do not believe he will be the one,” Êlengolas said pensively. “Love will make anyone tell secrets and truths.”
“Love,” I asked. “What has love to do with this?”
“I know you saw Celeborn as he looked upon the Lady Galadriel,” he began. “Did you notice how she looked upon him?”
“No,” I answered.
“It is for no one to say but her,” he said. “She will speak when her heart is ready. I do worry, though.”
“Worry?”
“What a burden to bear for ambition. Olwë is her mother’s father. What could be worth more than the life of your own kin?”
I said nothing. When he was wise, Êlengolas could make me think deeper on things. I could not imagine the guilt these elves would carry for eternity. On our way back to the palace, we happened upon Celeborn with Galadriel. They were very much in love. I knew Êlengolas was right—it would not be long before all would be revealed.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 6-24-2019
Note to @staff: This is a book. The photo–from a movie: See copyright information. Galadriel and Celeborn are fully-clothed.
Images: ©2001, 2002, 2003. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. All Rights Reserved.
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