#why yes is was of thingol and melian first meeting

[serene-faerie]

Doriath Dashboard Simulator

🍃 leafyboi Follow

Oh to meet a Maia in Nan Elmoth and just get lost in her eyes for 200 years

#i want whatever thingol has with his wife

( 2,450 notes )

🌳 daily-doriath-pics Following

Neldoreth under the Stars

#doriath photos #sindar #neldoreth #beleriand #middle earth #my pics #night skies

( 600 notes )

🌺 queen-melyanna Follow

Baby girl is growing up quite well.

She's a very curious child, and she has a tendency to glow when she's playing with her toys.

I suppose having a child who is half-Elven and half-Maia can yield some interesting results.

#adventures in parenting

( 190 notes )

🌌 princess-tinuviel Following

Dark hair and rugged beards have got me acting rather.... unwise

#shut up tinuviel #do not rb

( 2 notes )

🌲 beech-girl Mutuals

ngl I did not have "Princess Lúthien falls in love with hairy mortal man in the forest" on my 465 bingo card lmao

#honestly??? good for her #go get that mortal dick!

( 1,569 notes )

🦌 king-elu Follow

Call-out for the Noldor

I cannot believe I am doing this. But it is my duty to inform the people of the deceivers we have been harboring in Doriath.

And yes, this is about Alqualondë and the kinslaying that has been wrought upon Olwë's people.

TW: Violence against Elves, kinslaying, theft and destruction of property, lying, deceit

Read More

#personal

( 350 notes )

🏹 strongestbow Following

Fellas is it gay to hold hands with your human best friend when hunting in the woods together???

( 2,600 notes )

🍁 maidenofneldoreth Mutuals

Just curious:

⭐️ feanors-second-wife Follow

Excuse me???? How are we "treacherous" when the Teleri literally wouldn't give us their ships when we asked???

If they didn't want to be slaughtered, they should've just given us their swanships when we told them to. Besides, the Teleri aren't even Thingol's people! And it's not like your king was there to watch us kill the Teleri! He was literally hiding behind his wife's skirt!

🦋 flutterby-of-nivrim Follow

Wow, what an entitled piece of work you are.

First of all, way to victim-blame the Teleri of Alqualondë. They had every right not to surrender their swanships to a bunch of entitled jerks like you. You guys just stormed their lands, slaughtered them for saying no, then took the ships anyways.

Second of all, I don't understand your logic. So because Thingol wasn't there to see the kinslaying, he shouldn't be angry about it??? Girl, we Sindar are literally descended from the Teleri! Some of us had relatives who were killed in Alqualondë! And King Olwë was Thingol's kinsman! Of course Thingol has every right to be upset about the kinslaying!

Thirdly, Thingol was not "hiding behind his wife's skirt". We were literally fighting Morgoth before you guys even left Aman. We're more familiar with the evils of Morgoth than you Noldorin Elves. The whole reason why the Girdle was put up was because we lost a good chunk of our army.

Lastly, why are you even on the Sindarin side of Tumblr? Shouldn't you be kissing up to the Fëanorian princes on your own blog???

🌼 bloomingblossoms Following

🦋 flutterby-of-nivrim Follow

Lmao they blocked me

Guess I scared 'em good

#typical noldor #they can dish it out but they can't take it #finrod doesn't count tho #he's a sweetie and we all love him

( 8,901 notes )

🕊️ dior-of-doriath Following

Reblog if you think the Fëanorians are gutless, craven cowards

🌿 lord-0roph3r Follow

Damn you just woke up and chose violence today huh?

🕊️ dior-of-doriath Following

Damn right I did

There's two more Silmarils in Morgoth's crown

They can go and steal those for all I care

#no way am i giving up the one that my parents risked their own lives to get #you want em so badly #go on and fight morgoth for the other two you cowards

( 750 notes )

🌸 flowermaidenofmenegroth Follow

Did anyone else have "Thingol gets killed by Dwarves" and "Melian's girdle fails" on their bingo card this year???

#got a bad feeling about doriath's future

( 1,500 notes )

🌱 thr4nduil-the-fair Mutuals

It's been a long journey, but at last, we made it to the Havens of Sirion.

Unfortunately, our king and queen fell in battle, and Menegroth is in ruins. Even worse, we couldn't find the twin boys in the forest. Though I pray that they are alive, deep down, I know that the worst has come to pass.

Luckily, we managed to escort Elwing to safety, but my heart aches for her. She's still so young, and in only one day, she's lost her parents and brothers.

But though her family is gone, I will do my best to help in raising her. I feel that she will grow into a strong young lady one day.

For now, it's time for us to rest. Thank you everyone for your thoughts and prayers.

From tomorrow, we must start healing.

#personal #ruin of doriath

( 79 notes )

[lamemaster]

Men Reacting to Meeting Elves First Time

AN: Inspired by this post- by @actual-bill-potts. Idk I just felt the urge to bring this to the world. No elves were harmed in writing this.

Summary: A series of interviews brought to you by yours truly :)

Ulfang: (stares directly into camera with deadpan expression) the first time I saw Maedhros, I held his arm, his only arm (chuckles) to help him cross the road.

(Camera zooms in)

Ulfang: (shuffling in his seat) I thought he was blind. I though he was poor blind elf with no pupils. I even told the kids to be kinder to him...

Interviewer: Andreth please put down the book for now.

Andreth: (annoyed Edain noises) Ah yes the shadow in the East-

Interviewer: Nope not this again (Athrabeth flashbacks). We're talking about your first meeting with Aegnor

Andreth: He was so still I walked past him confusing him for a lamp. (Love crazed smile on her face) Gangly limbs and wild gleaming hair and very eerily still. And then I jumped ten foot into the sky when he suddenly called for me.

Andreth: Flame and moth, (dreamy sigh) thats what they call us.

Beor: We really could not see anything but a blob of light and follow the music that filled the air. I mean what else would anyone assume. Only gods hold such prowess.

Interview: (muttering under breath) Well Celebrimbor and Ar-Pharzon would disagree...

Beor: What (confused dad smile)?? So I approached Nom, whose form stood shrouded by glowing hair that seem to carry the notes of his music.

Beor: At that moment I knew I fell in love, he would be my people's salvation.

Turin: The first time my mother took me to Thingol I scream cried for an hour (Embarrassed head shake).

Interviewer: You lived after that??

Turin: I did because Thingol thought my reaction after seeing a semi-transparent Melian was better...I thought she was the ghost of the crazy lady who lived next door...can you image the childhood trauma of all that in one day...(continues shaking head vigorously. I was scarred. That damned Saeros never let me live it down...

Beren: (Cuddling into Luthien) Society says twisted taste, I say man of culture.

Luthien: They won't dare love (percariously taps her claws on the interviewer's table).

static noises

Aragorn: (barging into Boromir's interview) Why was I not invited?

Interviewer: part elven and the Dunedain don't count...too desensitized.

(Bickering continues)

Interviewer: What was it like meeting the king of woodland realm?

Bard: I was half delirious and running on adrenaline I think I saw four of him and rolled with it. Altough Tilda and Sigrid did complain about unfair hair privillages.

Interviewer: I see (agressively scribbles crying emojis)

[nocompromise-noregrets]

Hello! I was wondering whether I could ask you how you came up with your headcanons about Maudie and Auriel?

hiiiii! and yes, of course! I always like rambling about those two, I love them so much!

So, Maudie just sort of strolled on in and took over while I was writing Empty Vessel - all I knew about her at first was her name and that Bard had loved her to distraction, but gradually she grew a little more fleshed-out, and by the time Bard told Thranduil a bit more about her, I knew that she was very little but with a very big personality, and probably would have climbed Thranduil like a tree given half a chance. XD And then I started writing Break You But You'll Mend, in which she is an actual character, returned to life in Valinor because Auriel gave the Valar a piece of her mind (which tells you a lot about Auriel :D ), and she really started talking. I woke up one morning with an image in my head of her curled up against Thranduil with him curled more or less completely around her, given that he's about a foot and a half taller than she is, and then wrote the chapter that led to that - in which she flirted enormously - and it all kind of went on from there. The lovely @mihrsuri has also been giving me all manner of ideas about her which I'm still percolating, but suffice to say that if anyone ever crosses her, especially when it comes to Bard, Thranduil or Auriel, or her children, there will be Trouble with a capital T.

Auriel, meanwhile, is more than half the creation of my fabulous beta reader @lemurious - when I started out, again, I only had her name and the knowledge that losing her was absolutely why Thranduil is Like That in the films, but lemurious came up with her backstory - she is the adopted daughter of Thingol and Melian, and her biological father is Celegorm, although she will not thank you for bringing that up. She is, however, Fëanorian through and through, much to her chagrin, she has a will of iron (see: standing up to the Valar), does not put up with any of Thranduil's ridiculousness, and loves him and Legolas to no end. She's developed gradually as well, and it is an endless joy to find that she and Maudie are really rather smitten with each other - hence the Valinor OT4, consisting of the two of them and their very lovely husbands, who are of course also each other's husbands. :D

Their modern AU counterparts, Katy and Anna, are rather less well-developed in my head, but that's mainly because I haven't really had the chance to meet them yet, but I'm hoping that one of these days I'll get that opportunity. I do feel bad about killing them off, but I feel like widowerhood is a really important part of Bard's and Thranduil's characters, given what we see of them in the films (I am unashamedly movieverse here), and it's not the same for me if they're divorced. I also don't do well with conflict and relationships that end badly, so for me I'd rather write them as beloved-but-gone than as no-longer-beloved. One of these days I probably ought to write a modern OT4, which would solve the problems quite nicely. Not sure how it would arise, but...well, we shall see what happens. As always I am at the mercy of the characters - I write what they tell me when they tell me it, so I discover the story as I go along. I'm definitely a pantser rather than a planner!

wheee, thank you so much for asking, this was huge fun! <33333333 if anyone else would like to ask me about any of my fics, I will always be delighted to answer!

[tathrin]

@aroace-moron​ okay but now I want some unhinged written-at-four-am Silmarillion High School or University AU, where Galadriel is like a grad student or something and Finrod is her overly-perky breezing-through-it-all brother and Thranduil is the precious(ly annoying) freshman and Celeborn is this quiet dork who is just massively crushing on her so tired and Thingol is the stern, irritated principal and Melian is this unflappable teacher whose lessons no one ever fully understands but my stars is it interesting??? and Thranduil’s dads are constantly embarrassing him because Oropher shoots his mouth off in every PTA meeting and also they keep making-out like teenagers whenever he turns around omg dads stop!? and...

#this is so cool! #first of all #i love how you write thranduil and his dads #'then they started flirting ugh disgusting so i left' #amazing #thranduil as a teenager is a concept I have not yet considered before #but yes #you nailed it #also Galadriel and Melian's relationship is so cool??? #i too wish to be tutored by a magical being only for her to randomly collapse tell me the king is dead and the kingdom falling #than that she might meet me again if i don't fuck up or die or something and then #disappears #i like to think that i would mourn #but the last few weeks of my last school year have proven to me that my reaction would more likely be 'sorry am i dismissed? are you just #gonna leave? what about class???' #galadriel is a lot more tactful than I am i think #sorey that was a lot of random thought it is 4am and I am not sure why exactly i'm awake #just kinda woke up #huh #anyway #amazing work as always! #take your time but I will definitely read it

Is the Galadriel and Doriath wip current or Galadriel reminiscing?

It is set in the final years of Doriath, and focuses on both Galadriel's role as Melian's student and her future fate as well as on Celeborn and Thranduil's youthful friendship, and it ends just after the Second Kinslaying.

It's very wip-y, in the sense of being mostly "here's a quick transcription of ideas" rather than actual writing, and I'm honestly not sure when I'll get back to it...but here's the beginning at least. It's the most detailed part, although even still it's mostly just sketched-out scene-notes with some bits of actual rough-draft prose at the end.

Melian and Galadriel in the former's garden in Doriath in a courtyard outside the palace that spills out into the wild forest; Melian is teaching Galadriel how to feel the world within her, both of them barefoot on the grass, feeling the flow of the song rise up through the soles of their feet. A peaceful, soft, quiet moment…

Thranduil and Celeborn walk along one of the castle walls, Thranduil skipping on the actual wall and Celeborn scoffing at him from the walkway; they pass two guards, who laugh; no one is taking the guard duty particularly seriously, because they all know Menegroth is safe from harm. 

Thranduil says that his father doesn't think it's good that they allow Galadriel and Finrod to come here; Celeborn is shocked (and deeply crushing on Galadriel), why!? Thranduil shrugs and says that Oropher doesn't think that it's good to have Noldor here when a Silmaril is; his other father, he adds while Celeborn is drawing an outraged breath to argue, pointed out that neither Galadriel nor Finrod are Fëanor's sons and should not be judged by their deeds. Oropher admitted that was true, but points out that they are still his kin—and perhaps for their own sake, should be kept far from such possible temptation. Other dad was amused by this; does Oropher really think that just the sight of some pretty jewel will overcome them? At that point, Thranduil says, wrinkling his nose, they started saying mushy stuff about being overcome by your beauty, and that's when he left. Celeborn laughs and calls him a child. Thranduil scowls.

Meanwhile, inside the hall, Thingol and the dwarves clash over the necklace; we open at the end of the argument, when tempers have already flared. Thingol towers over one of the dwarves, trying to intimidate him; another dwarf steps behind him and swings a hammer, cutting him down at the knees; he falls with a cry of surprise and the dwarf raises the hammer over him again…

Melian gasps and falls, Galadriel half-catching her and sinking to the ground with her mentor in her arms. "Teacher!" she cries (look up Sindarin), startled and afraid; what could fell a Maia? Melian smiles sadly, her eyes far away. "Fear not for me, Galadriel. This is the day I have long foreseen come at last, and the darkness that follows will be for you to face, and not for me. I depart these lands now, and leave Middle-earth for a time in the keeping of the elves alone."

In the halls, one dwarf stares in shock and horror at another; what have you done? The second lowers his bloody hammer and says that Thingol would have kept their treasure for his own. Should they have let him? Are the elves to forever be their betters, because they were made first? We are the forgotten children, unwanted by the song; it is up to us to seize our place in Arda, to make our own place in the song. Will you be forever second-best to the elves?

No, the first agrees; he takes the necklace. No, we will not let our work be stolen or our souls unvalued. Not by the elves, and not even by the Valar themselves. We are dwarves, and we know our worth as well as we know the worth of our treasures; we will not let our value be dismissed. But come! We must away before the other elves learn what we have done, or it will not be our treasures but our lives that pay the wages of this working! They flee.

"Depart!" Galadriel cried, her voice ringing raw and hollow through the garden. "But why? Wherefore should you leave this place?"

"I follow my beloved Thingol's spirit, my dear student. I know that I shall find him again someday on the other side of the Halls of Mandos; for he has left this land, and my daughter is long lost beyond the Gift of Men; and now comes the time where I depart for the Blessed Realms, and return to my own teacher and my kind and kin."

Galadriel gasped, her mind reeling beneath the weight of Melian's words. It was too much; too much all at once. She seized on the simplest, cruelest part: "Thingol is dead?"

"His life's blood even now spills across Menegroth's stone," Melian murmured. She rose, and drew Galadriel up with her. The queen seemed taller now, somehow, but more insubstantial too; she stood like a pillar of cloud before the breeze and smiled down gently at the bewildered elf-maid standing lost and lonely before her. "I say again, do not be afraid, my brightest and dearest student. I will not say that we shall meet again, for far and away will come the chance that may one day lift the Ban that bars you from those blessed shores; and thin even as the blade of a silver knife that chance is. You may well fail it; you may not even live to face the test. " She clasped one of Galadriel's hands between both of her own and stroked the bare fingers gently. "But if you do come across fire and destruction to the moment of your measure, and you can overcome both power and pride, then I foresee that the Ban upon your head will be lifted and the Seas will open to bear you home again."

"I do not think that Aman will ever let me call it home again," Galadriel whispered.

Melian cupped her face between her hands. "Ask your heart again in later Ages where your home lies, and despair not before then," she said, and bent low to kiss Galadriel on her brow. "Now farewell, my dear. Farewell, and let not your heart be hardened. On the other side of every nightfall there is a dawn, and the light in you will never go out so long as you will it still to shine. That much, I promise you."

"Melian—" Galadriel began to say, but the queen was no longer there; only a shimmer of light where she had stood, a gleam of mist that might once have been a smile and a faint echo of a distant song; but she was gone, and Galadriel stood now alone.

Around the borders of Doriath, the girdle of power that had long defended the great green lands flickered and began to fade, following the flight of its maker. The earth beneath Galadriel's bare feet shivered at the loss of power, but Galadriel did not feel it; she had heart then only for her tears.

[makalaure-kanafinwe]

Shoutout to my old art from 2016. I can’t believe how much my designs for these characters have changed

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Doriath and Men

This is a follow-up to my previous post on Doriathrin relations with other elves, because there’s several interesting aspects to be examined here.

Doriathrin Policy

The first thing that will come to most people’s minds regarding Doriath and the Edain is Thingol sending Beren on a suicide quest to prevent him and Lúthien from getting married, but there’s a lot more going with between Doriath and humans than just that.

Their relations with the Haladin are unique in being the only situation in the history of Beleriand where Men have an independent community without an elven liege-lord. The Beorings and Hadorians have their own kings, but they’re liegemen to the the House of Finarfin and the House of Fingolfin respectively. In the agreement mediated beyween the Haladin and Doriath by Finrod Felagund, the Haladin live in the Forest of Brethil with complete independence, and agree for their part to defend Brethil and the Crossings of Teiglin from the forces of Morgoth (of which Haleth says - in essence and very bluntly - “Morgoth killed my family; we were obviously going to do that anyway”).

Despite this committment, Doraith doesn’t expect the Haladin to defend Brethil on their own, nor is Doriath uninvolved in the wars of Beleriand. Halmir, lord of the Haladin, is friends with the Sindar who defend Doriath, and during the Battle of Sudden Flame, when the Haladin are attacked by orcs, he rapidly sends to Thingol for assisstance, which Thingol provides in the form of a for e led by Beleg and including a large number of Sindar armed with axes (they’re not solely archers!), who fight alongside the Haladin and destroy the orcs. (This is the battle in which Húrin and Huor are separated from their army, and are rescued by Thorondor and taken to Gondolin.) The Doriathrim continue to assist in the defense of Brethil after the Nirnaeth - the region of Dimbar where Beleg is stationed on the border defense (and where he urges to Túrin to return, when Túrin is with the outlaws) is directly on the northeast border of Brethil.

This connection of Húrin to the Edain allies of Doriath was likely part of why Thingol chose to foster Túrin. A larger part, to my mind, was Thingol realizing that he had bern wrong in his treatment of Beren and attempting to atone for it in his treatment of Túrin. And Thingol and Melian clearly came to care for Túrin a great deal and went very far out of his way to look after him, even when Túrin was being his stubbornnest. They sent messengers on the very dangerous road to Dor-lomin so that Túrin could have news of his family. They sent Beleg to look for him invite him back even after Túrin had humiliated and murdered one of Thingol’s top advisors; when Túrin refused, Thingol again sent Beleg - one of his leading soldiers - away from the front lines where he was needed, to look after Túrin instead. And Melian sent lembas to Túrin’s band of brigands, which was practically unheard of.

So on the whole, I would say that Doriath’s relations with the Edain were good, and the primary negative point in that relationship, is the Leithian, was the result of Thingol being an overprotective father rather than directly related to foreign policy. Their relationship with tne Edain was not a close as that of the Noldor and Edain in Hithlum or Dorthonion, but it was, interestingly, a more equal one. However, very few Men ever entered Doriath prior to the fall of the Girdle of Melian - only Beren, Túrin, Morwen, Nienor, and Húrin, and that ties into a second element.

Doriath as Faerie

Doriath’s role in both the Leithian and the Narn i Hîn Húrin is, from the outside, human perspective, very much the role of the Fae in folklore. In the Leithian, it’s even referred to a Faerie. In folklore, men who go to Faerie meet strange fates; the might get strange powers as well, but they pay for them. Faerie is unknown, and the Fair Folk are an uncanny and dangerous people.

Likewise, men who go into Doriath meet strange fates and strange dooms. Beren is enchanted and walks first into Tol-in-Gaurhoth and then directly into Angband for the sake of the Faerie princess he loves; it’s said that he returns from the dead, though none among Men ever see him again and cannot say if this is truth or legend. Not many years later, young Túrin is sent to the elves - on purpose, in an inversion of myths around changelings - and when he comes out he has a strange doom and strange powers, seems unlike the rest of his people, and brings disaster on all whom he encounters; and his mother and sister, who also go to Doriath, likewise meet terrible fates. Yes, we know that’s due to Morgoth’s curse (and Túrin’s own lack of impulse control), but to an average Man in Beleriand the implications are clear: getting involved in Faerie is dangerous, and the powers aren’t worth the cost.

(Similarly the elves of Doriath, the easiest conclusion to reach from their direct interactions with Edain is that Doriath’s problem was not being isolationist enough. Beren comes, and their princess leaves and dies. Túrin comes, kills one of the king’s counsellors, leaves, goes to Nargothrond - Doriath’s strongest remaining ally - usurps rule, and gets it destroyed. Húrin brings the Nauglamír, leading to the death of the King and the departure of the Queen. If no Edain ever came to Doriath, none of this would have happened. What I’m saying is, Morgoth got a lot of mileage out of his curse on Húrin’s family - not only the destruction of the family itself, but the destruction of Doriath and Nargothrond, and a foundation for distrust between Edain and Sindar.)

The Successor of Doriath - The Woodland Realm

Given this strange history, one might expect that the elves who identify most closely as the successors of Doriath in the Second and Third Age - those who leave Lindon for Greenwood the Great and set up a new forest kingdom whose halls are modelled on Menegroth - might have poor relations with Men. But as of the late Third Age, that’s not the case at all. The Wood-elves of what is by then Mirkwood are the only group of elves we seen who have close relations with non-Edain Men. (Or that’s my u derstabding of the heritage of the men of Lake-town - they’re dustant relations of the Bree-men, the men of Rhovanion, and perhaps even more distantly the Rohirrim, not of the Númenoreans.) They’ve got a regular, mundane, commercial relationship with them, and regular, everyday, working elves (the raft-men of the king) are a commonplace sight in Esgaroth. (Is this the only time we see elves with a regular, non-security, non-military day job? I think it might be.) The Wood-elves provide assistance to the men of Esgaroth after it’s destroyed, amd are its allies in the subsequent mess/battle.

Compare this to the relationship of literally any other Third Age elf-kingdom with regular, everyday, non-Númenorean-descended men. Rivendell is the Last Homely House for adventurous travellers, yes, and it fosters the heirs of Elendil, yes, but you wouldn’t see an average Bree-lander heading out there for a drink and a chat. The Rohirrim think Galadriel is a dangerous sorceress, and even Faramir thinks that Lórien, though good, is also eldritch and better avoided out of prudence. That’s how men think of Elves in most of Middle-earth. And meanwhile the Lake-men are going, “Oh, elves? Yeah, that’s the folks who buy wine from us! And at a good price too! They grow some fine apples!”

Which, as legacies go, is a pretty nice one, unexpected as it might be.

[growingingreenwood]

I love that headcanon you made about Oropher being friends with Elwë; so I decided to share one of my headcanons: that Thingol had sisters as well as brothers, and that one of those sisters was Oropher’s wife. This isn't a stretch of canon when you remember that Tolkien had this habit of keeping out ’unimportant’ women in his stories, and Tolkien did heavily imply that Thranduil was related to Celeborn, and therefore Thingol.

Uhmmmmmmmm hello I LOVE THIS???????

Can you imagine if Oropher and Thingols sister getting married while Thingol is entranced in the forest. He finally comes back like "Lol Oropher guess what?"

"YOU LEAVE FOR LIKE 100 YEARS AND THAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU SAY TO ME???? What tho."

"I got married.

"Wild. So did I."

"to wHOMST???"

Omg beautiful. That makes them being weirdly close all the better because Melian and her probably spend half of their days just roasting the absolute SHIT out of their husbands.

Amazing.

Plus the idea delights me of Legolas being his Great Nephew. Like Elves from other realms meet Legolas and are like "But why is he ............. like that. Why is he so bright. Why is he so much. Why."

And Elrond just nods like, "Ah yes. Yes, that would be the After Glow of being related to Elu Thingol and his cluster of relatives."

Glorfindel just nods along like "It's true you should see Thranduil in person."

PLUS it makes Legolas' and Gimli's friendship all the more amazing????? Like Thranduil would probably vividly remember how much the loss of Thingol had hit his father, How much he had changed after. Legolas grew up hearing SO MANY STORIES about Oropher and Thingol and Melian and Thingols sister and now I'm crying.

Do you have a name for her??

[tkwrtrilogy3]

Chapter V: The Coming of Time (Pt. IV)

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.--TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 6-11-2019

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.

Note to @staff : This is a book. The photo--from a movie: See copyright information. Duh.

[undercat-overdog]

Another meta fic from the conversation with @kazaera where they wondered if “making ME as blessed as Aman” was originally a Doriathrim thing later adopted in the 2nd Age by the blended culture of the Dúnedhil – the Exilic Noldor seem to be all about nostalgia for their lost home, but the Iathrim seem to be quite happy where they are: they have their king Thingol, they have their own patron Maia Melian, and they build a civilization in Middle-earth. The Falathrim and Mithrim seem to be more bothered that they missed out on Valinor (cf the eponyn Eglain, 'the forsaken'), but the future Mrs Curufin turns that resentment into a desire for action.

Edit: This was all Kazaera’s idea, and what a brilliant idea it was!

This is somewhat contradicts Tolkien's commentary on Eregion, but I think it makes slightly more sense with what we know about the Sindar and Noldor of the First Age? And I am convinced there was significant Iathrim influence in Eregion.

~~~

“I am beginning to think,” said Súlind, “that Thingol's witch of a queen is correct, that the people she rules are correct – what does the West have now that we do not? That light in your eyes, oh my flame-eyed friend, comes from Trees now dead, and you say yourself that your people learned all that the Belain would teach you – why, with your knowledge meeting ours, we already surpass the lore of that home you fled.”

Curufin opened his mouth to speak, but she continued over him.

“You can't go back, can you? The Belain won't let you back: even my lord Círdan is forbidden, and he calls himself the friend of Guiar. So Curufinu,” - and she took his hand - “once we throw down Morgoth, let us make this land a paradise that they will beg to visit.”

~~~

(Curufin doesn't agree with her yet – he was about to point out that Feanor just died and with him all his secret lore – but he will, which is why he's later optimistic enough to want a child – and then, lol, the Bragollach.)

Súlind, my version of Curufin's future wife, is Falathrim – she calls him Curufinu because that's what Curufinwe would be in both the Falathrim and Doriathrim dialects (it comes out Curufin because that's what it is in the Sindarin of the North).

Belain – Valar

Guair – Ulmo. Technically, the cognate of Ulmo is Ulu, but Guiar and Uiar was the usual name used.

(And yes, Curufin and Súlind's son will have quite similar conversations with Sauron.)

[gayjaytodd]

Sealed Together in Death

For the ever-wonderful @imindhowwelayinjune whose words inspired me to write this, bc clearly I had nothing better to do at work today.

Warning for incest, murder, violence, and death

They rally their forces at dawn.

Tyelkormo looks out at the gaunt, little army, and sneers disdainfully. They’re badly armed, weak and starved, and though there is cruelty in their burning eyes, many of them still suffer from wounds sustained in the Nirnaeth.

His brothers are at the forefront of the army; Nelyo, a horrid-looking goblin creature after his stint in Morgoth’s hands (grief is etched on his ugly face, as it has been since word came to them of the death of Findekáno – why, in Vána’s name, Nelyo is still mourning after hundreds of years, is a mystery to Tyelkormo); Makalaurë, grim and pale, but steely-gazed and determined; Carnistir, his sword already drawn, the rings on his hands glittering in the sparse sunlight (of course, Carnistir hasn’t even bothered to take off his jewellery, Tyelkormo rolls his eyes), the lines around his thin lips speak of displeasure – Carnistir has never liked killing; Pityafinwë, his grey eyes empty, devoid of life or feeling, peering at Tyelkormo through dirty, copper red tresses of hair; and Curvo…

Curvo is glorious. Tyelkormo always thinks that his little brother is glorious, of course, a shining silver spear of beauty and cunning. His long, dark hair is tied back in a tight braid, falling all the way to his trim waist, his lithe body covered with simple armour. Curufinwë takes no notice of Tyelkormo’s stare. He looks toward the gates of Menegroth, the entrance to Doriath, instead, clearly contemplating their battleplan, their strategy.

Curvo is the cleverest of them all, thinks Tyelkormo proudly and flushes, when he remembers what it feels like to have that cold, calculating gaze turned on himself. He knows that beneath Curvo’s collar, his brother’s pale chest is covered with bruises and love bites. He knows that his own back is equally bruised, from his brother’s sharp nails.

Word of the whereabouts of the Silmaril had reached them months ago in their exile. Tyelkormo remembers, vividly, how he and Curvo had celebrated. It had involved silk sheets, wound tightly around Tyelkormo’s wrists, and elegant hands, pulling on his golden hair.

The memory warms his body, and he grows hard in his breeches. Discreetly he tries to adjust himself, but his movement catches Makalaurë’s attention. His older brother looks at him searchingly, and Tyelkormo, never one to be ashamed of anything, gives him a dirty grin. Makalaurë narrows his eyes and looks from Tyelkormo to Curvo, and back again. His gaze is very judgmental.

Tyelkormo raises his eyebrows. As if Makalaurë has any right to judge. As if Tyelkormo doesn’t know how Makalaurë and Nelyo use love and tenderness to hurt each other.

Then, as the sun crawls over the horizon, bathing the world in warmth, their scouts return. Dior expects them, of course, and is waiting in the Caves, hoping that his soldiers will kill them, before they can enter the gates.

Nelyo listens intently to the scouts, and then finally, finally, gives the order to attack.

They break through the guards easily and then, at last, they’ve gained access to the Glittering Caves of Thingol and Melian, which thus far have been forbidden them.

Tyelkormo throws himself into the battle with all his heart. His blood sings as he swings his sword and cleaves his foe’s head. It is glorious. The halls of Menegroth have deserved their name, he thinks, looking at the shining walls and the beautiful mosaics on the floor, now slippery with blood and covered in the bodies of fallen soldiers. The blood shines and the light of the lamp is reflected in the amour of the fallen. Tyelkormo laughs.

He swings his sword again, relishing the burn in his muscles, smiling through it all.

Another foe falls.

There is a lull in the battle around him then, and he turns around, trying to locate his brothers, see if one of them needs his help. The sight that greets him, makes him freeze.

Curvo is fighting Dior – and Tyelkormo feels very proud for a moment, watching them, his little brother is fast and nimble and seems to be winning – but then an arrow comes flying, seemingly out of nowhere and hits Curvo’s thigh. The bad thigh. The thigh he almost broke, when Beren Erchamion felled his horse all those years ago.

Curvo falls to his knees.

Dior kicks his shoulder, pushing him over. As Curvo falls to the ground, everything seems to slow down around Tyelkormo and he is frozen, can only watch, as Curvo spits a few, disdainful words at Dior – Tyelkormo cannot hear what they are, though, judging from the way Dior’s beautiful face (and by Manwë, he looks just like his mother) twists in rage and he raises his spear, preparing to drive it into Curvo’s chest, Curvo has not lost his sharp tongue, though he is about to die.

The “NO!” rises unbidden from Tyelkormo’s throat but he is too far away and can only watch, as Curvo turns his head on the ground, meeting his eyes, stretching out his hand. His lips form a word, which Tyelkormo cannot hear, but will forever recognise the shape of.

“Tyelko...” Curvo is trying to say his name, but before he can finish, before Tyelkormo can react, Dior drives his spear down, into Curvo’s chest.

For a moment the slim, dark-haired form on the ground tenses; tears rise in his blue eyes; and then he goes limp, his out-stretched arm hitting the slick floor softly, as his eyes slid closed.

Tyelkormo lets out a cry of anger and, without pausing to think for even a second, he attacks Dior, with only one goal – to kill him.

They fight long and hard. They are evenly matched and at any other time Tyelkormo would relish the challenge but not now. Now he is angry and he wants to kill. And then he wants his ridiculous little brother to wake up and call him a fool and hit him over the head, like he always does.

At one point, Tyelkormo sees a flash of dark hair in the corner of his eye and his attention is diverted, thinking that it is either Makalaurë or Carnistir come to help him. He turns his head, watches Carnistir fall to the ground, a sword sticking out of his chest, and his eyes burn with tears.

His attention is diverted for but a moment, but that moment is his doom, for Dior springs forth, spear at the ready, and catches Tyelkormo through the stomach.

For a moment they stand there, both breathing harshly, then Dior wrenches his spear free and Tyelkormo falls to his knees. Dior stands above him, raises his spear, but he hesitates and Tyelkormo takes his chance, gathers what’s left of his renowned strength and lunges.

His sword catches Dior’s throat and the son of Lúthien falls, dead before he hits the ground. Tyelkormo spares him hardly a glance as he crawls towards Curvo’s body, one hand pressed to the wound in his stomach, trying in vain to stop the flow of blood. He gathers Curvo into his trembling arms and reaches down to press a tender kiss to his forehead, strokes his face gently.

Around him the noise of the battle slowly fades to nothing, but he is unsure whether it is because he is dying or because the fighting is over. In truth, he hardly cares.

Just as he is about to close his eyes at last, he hears a shout and opens them again, slowly. Nelyafinwë is standing over him, tears in his eyes, his scarred face somehow more beautiful when he’s on the verge of tears than at any other time, suddenly worthy of his mother name again. Nelyo falls to his knees.

“Tyelko,” he murmurs, distraught, and Tyelkormo lets out a quiet huff of laughter.

“Do not cry, Nelyo,” he says, “we are not worth your tears, Curvo and I, you have said so often enough.”

“I lied,” whispers Nelyo, and now the tears are falling. He grips Tyelkormo’s hand tightly, and Tyelkormo allows it, something he would not even have considered, if he hadn’t been about to die.

“Shall I tell Atar you said hello?” he asks, gasps, coughs, tastes blood in his mouth and spits it out. The droplet lands with a wet sound on the stone floor by his side. Nelyo nods shakily.

“Yes, Tyelko,” he says, “Please do that. And tell Mother I am sorry, when Námo lets you go someday.”

“Of course, Nelyo,” Tyelkormo smiles, there’s blood between his teeth, he’s sure of it, but he can barely hold his eyes open and he simply cannot bring himself to care. “I think,” he says, “I think, Nelyo, that I would like to close my eyes now. This one,” he pats Curvo’s hair, “is waiting for me, and he will want to give me a thorough verbal lashing for letting it take so long. Or perhaps for dying. You never know with him.”

“No,” Nelyo says, “you never do. Close your eyes, Tyelko. You can sleep now.”

For the first time in his life, Tyelkormo does as he is told, and closes his eyes.

[tkwrtrilogy3]

Chapter IV: Darkness and Light (Pt. II)

Later, while I was alone in my chambers working on my heirloom, Mîrwen entered with a smile on her face.

“You spoke to Oropher,” she said as she threw her arms around my shoulders. “Yes,” I said. “This pleases you?”

“I think Nimeithel is a wonderful match for him. So does Valdúmîr.”  

“I do not think it is up to us,” I said. “The heart does what it will.”

“True,” she answered releasing me. “But it can use a little help now and then.”

“Whatever it is,” I began. “Do not tell me. I would rather leave some things to my imagination.”

“Very well,” Mîrwen answered. “But I had nothing to do with it.”

“I find that hard to believe, Mîrwen. The ladies of the court live for such intrigue.”

“We do not.”

I looked up from my work at my beloved. She had longed for this moment since Oropher could speak.

“He has yet to ask us for our blessing,” I added. “Try to contain your joy, if you will.”

“Do you know something,” she asked.

“No more than you.”

“You do know something,” she said sitting beside me. “What do you know, Orothôn?”

“I know he is waiting for the right moment. Let him come when it is time. He will do what is honorable.”

Mîrwen nodded.

“If I must,” she said softly. “He is a good son.”

“That he is,” I agreed. “I could not be more proud.”

“Shall we go to dinner,” she asked. “It is time.”

I put my work down and rose with her. We left our chambers and made our way to the great hall. When we arrived, we noticed more elves than usual. Across the room, I noticed Denethor with Arethuil. Beside them was a handsome young elf with a maiden of enchanting beauty. Denethor saw me and led the two elves toward me.

“Orothôn, these are my children. Gildúr and Annariel.”

They bowed to me.

“It is an honor to meet you,” I said.

“The honor is ours,” Gildúr said. “To meet the father of such a great warrior as Oropher is humbling.”

“I beg your pardon,” Mîrwen said.

“I have seen him myself,” Annariel whispered. “When I can, Your Highness. You must be proud.”

“I am,” Mîrwen said. I could hear the anger growing beneath royal protocol. “Quite proud.”

Before she could say another word, the call to dinner came. We all took our places—including Oropher beside his mother. We waited in uncomfortable silence until King Thingol and Queen Melian entered with their daughter Lúthien. Once they were seated, everyone took their seats. I hoped for Mîrwen’s silence to continue through the end of our evening. Sitting across from us was Galathil and Celeborn—nearly himself unrecognizable as he was growing into manhood. Beside them sat their parents Galadhon and Celebriel. I could tell Galadhon has his eye on his sister.

“Mîrwen,” he whispered. “What bothers you?”

“Not a thing,” she whispered. “I am the proud mother of a great warrior.”

Oropher lowered his head. He looked at me and I shook my head. The silence between us continued until the end. When we rose, the silence was broken.

“If I may,” Oropher began. “I would like to call upon Nimeithel.”

As I nodded, Mîrwen spoke.

“You may not,” she answered.

“Mîrwen, let him go,” I said quietly. “You can speak with him upon his return.”

“I will speak with him now,” she said loudly.

The entire room fell silent. Elmo and Orowen looked toward us concerned.

“Mîrwen,” Galadhon whispered. “Not now I beg you.”

“If not now, when,” she asked. “When my son is a lifeless corpse on the field of battle?”

I wanted to hide. I could see Oropher was thinking the same.

“Mother,” he began. He was begging—something he had never done before. 

“Please do not do this.”

“Daughter,” Elmo began. “Is there something you wish to say?”

I could see his son Galathil take a deep breath as his son Amdir looked on.

“My son is a great warrior,” Mîrwen started. “So I have heard. Why have I learned of this now, Father?”

“Do not be angry with anyone but me, Mother,” Oropher said. “It was at my request.”

“You are a child,” Mîrwen said. “You have no power to request anything.”

“I am no longer a child,” he said sternly. “If I can love, then I can fight. It is my duty to defend this land as my father and grandfather. I do not need your blessing for that nor do I expect it. But as your son, I would do anything to keep your heart from breaking. That is why I dared not say a word.”

I heard the sound of sobbing—several maidens had begun to cry. I looked at Mîrwen; somehow my son had made quite the impression. I could feel the room return to a sense of calm.

“Your son has a way with words,” Galadhon said.

“Yes,” I answered. “I am grateful for it.”

“May I call upon Nimeithel,” Oropher asked once more.

Mîrwen and I nodded together. He kissed his mother’s cheek and left us quickly.

“He is a good son,” I said to her. “You have raised him well.”

“We have raised him well,” she said taking my hand.

I kissed her. I knew she had accepted things to come. We returned to our chambers with some peace of mind.

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

It began with the Marchwardens—King Thingol had ordered more to cover the borders of Doriath. Though things remained quiet, there was little doubt we were preparing for war.

In the days before the first battle, the naugrim were seen more often traveling the road between Nogrod and Doriath as well as within Menegroth. The cache of weapons seemed to swell over time.

There was never a time I was not on guard—every noise would turn my head as my heart would beat a little harder. Mîrwen tried her best to calm me but she was just as frightened.

Once I had finished my heirloom, I marveled at the thought of it being passed on generation to generation. I went to find Oropher. He was inside a keep looking over the land. 

“I knew I would find you here,” I said to him as I approached.

“I was thinking to myself,” he said. “How beautiful Doriath is. I wonder what will become of it?”

“It will stand for as long as it should,” I answered.

He looked at me and smiled.

“I suppose,” he said. “Why were you looking for me?”

“I wished to give you something,” I began. “Perhaps make up for lost time with my only child.”

He gave me a curious look.

“I have spent my entire life with you, Ada. Whatever time was lost in your absence was sacrosanct to the service of the King.”

“I wish it had never been,” I said. “You should have been raised in Eldamar—far from this land we live in.”

“I know no other place as home,” he said. “I was born here as many others. Eldamar to me is nothing more than lore.”

“It does exist,” I said, even though I doubted it myself now. “One day we will see it.”

Oropher nodded. I knew he was doing it for me to change the course of conversation.

“I wanted to give you this,” I said, showing him the medallion I had made. “I have been working on it since the very moment I learned of your conception.”

He took it from me and marveled at it for awhile. 

“Thank you, Ada,” he finally said. “I will cherish it always.”

He embraced me tightly. When he let go, I could see tears in his eyes.

“Why are you sad, Oropher,” I asked.

“Will I return from battle,” he asked.

“I have little doubt that you will return.”

“I have asked Nimeithel for her hand,” he said softly. “I do not want her to become a widow before she becomes a bride.”

I was as happy as I was breathless.

“Are you asking for my blessing?”

“I am,” he answered.

“You do realize your mother will be absolutely delighted.”

“I know,” he said, laughing. “Grandmother said as much. It would seem Mother has been planning for this day since I was born.”

“You are too generous,” I said. “She has been planning this much longer than that.”

We laughed together. I realized how long I had lived. My son had come of age and was about to start a household of his own.

“I suppose it will be up to me to speak with Êlengolas,” I began. “That is far easier than asking the King.”

Oropher nodded. We stood looking out at Doriath. It was a beautiful land. Its future perils were yet unknown to us as we enjoyed the moment together.--TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 2-23-2019

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

[tkwrtrilogy3]

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.