#saeros

Chapter VIII: The Rise of the Fall (Pt. II)

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

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.

Chapter VI: The Second Awakening (Pt. V)

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

Note to @staff : This is Liv Tyler as Arwen. Duh.

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.

Sindarin Portraits pt4: Saeros, Eöl, Oropher, and Thranduil.

First time drawing Saeros! He gets the leafy crown since he’s part of Thingol’s court; I imagine Turin rips some of it out of his hair when they have that scene, so um, yeah ^^;;

I also updated Oropher’s design a bit! I drew his initial design for Doriath Week 2020, and I felt that it was a bit rushed, so I wanted to take my time with this one. I’m much happier with it now! :D

And that’s all the portraits I have so far for the Sindar! I think I missed a few, alongside Annael, but I feel like I’ll run out of juice if I keep drawing more ^^;; So I’ll take a little break now, and we’ll see if I get to any more design updates XDDD