In Dor-Cuarthol by Himring

Chapter 1

At this time, Turin went by the name of Gorthol. 

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Beleg came south in haste from Amon Rudh, for the messenger had said that, after a skirmish with orcs, Algund lay wounded at Bar Erib and Beleg's healing skills were required. When he reached Bar Erib and found Algund feverish on his pallet in a small shack--little more than a lean-to--at the edge of the camp, he found his anxiety justified: the deep gash in Algund's side was inflamed and showed signs of infection.

Although he and Algund had not spoken together at any length, Beleg liked him better than the rest of Turin's outlaws. Much younger in years than Beleg, Algund was still the oldest among Turin's Men, and a hard life, with more than a decade spent in the wilderness, was taking its toll upon him. Nevertheless, as Beleg deployed his Sindarin skills to fight the infection and strengthen Algund physically, hoping that the wound would begin to close and heal, he began to suspect that it was not only the effects of dirt on an orc's weapon or of old age that he was contending with. However, Algund spoke little and Beleg hesitated to ask. Who knew but it might be secrets of Algund's outlaw past that were haunting him, of a kind that were best forgotten?

In the end, Beleg won out in this struggle; the infection receded and Algund's fever broke.

'I think you will live, friend,' Beleg said to Algund.

'Thank you, lord,' Algund sighed and turned his head away, much as he had done now and then during the days before.

'Have a little more of the Queen's waybread; it will do you good,' said Beleg. 'And, Algund,'-- for he had made up his mind to ask, after all--'will you not tell me what troubles you so?'

Algund turned back towards him so that Beleg could clearly see his face--lined with years and shadowed with ill health and deep sorrow. His Hadorian yellow hair was mixed with grey and lay lank in damp strands across his forehead. He did not answer right away.

'You heal us when we fall ill, lord,' he said at last. 'You lead us in war and you lead us well. But you do so only for Gorthol's sake--you do not think we are worth it. I have seen you speaking to Gorthol in private--and I do not need to hear to know what you are saying to him. If he were willing to abandon us, you both would return to Doriath and to Dimbar tomorrow.'

He is right and I cannot deny it, thought Beleg, stricken, for it was indeed precisely what he had been telling Turin. In his dealings with the outlaws, it had seemed no little forbearance to him that he had refrained from reproaching them with their initial mistreatment of him or any other past ill deeds--surely that was already more than could be demanded of him. That still held. Only--there was pain in Algund's eyes.

'You fought at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, I have heard,' said Algund. 'I fought there, too. It would have been better if I had died there, along with the other men of Dor-lomin, at Serech. And I would have done, if I had still been with them at that last stand--their fellowship would have given me the heart and strength to endure. But I had been driven apart from them earlier, into the foothills, beyond hope of rejoining them--and so I fled and survived.'

'There is no shame in surviving,' said Beleg.

He had survived the Dagor Nirnaeth Arnoediad, too. He had had his own country to return to, though, and a secure place among friends, for Doriath still stood, although the north was lost to Morgoth. And yet he had suffered nightmares a long time after, sleeping and waking. But Algund's world had fallen apart with that defeat.

'There is shame in what came afterwards, you mean,' said Algund. 'And you are right. To return home to Dor-lomin would have meant facing death by execution. Coward or no, I was a trained soldier; the Easterlings would not have wanted me alive even as a slave. But I ought to have found a means of staying alive here in these lands other than as outlaw--or died an honest man, if I could not. I did not start out resorting to armed violence, you know. At first, it was just a bit of theft, slinking into the Woodmen's hen houses at night like a fox to fill my hungry belly in a harsh winter...'

His voice trailed away. He was, maybe, remembering the harshness of that winter.

'When I surprised your camp, you spoke in my favour when the others wished to slay me,' said Beleg quietly, finally broaching the long-avoided subject. 'But you did not untie me from the tree or give me water, in the days that followed...'

'I am weak, I did not dare to defy Androg, for fear that he would become our chief, if Gorthol did not return,' answered Algund bitterly. 'You are right that I'm not worth leading or healing--and yet you did heal me just now--and at the cost of much effort!'

'I did--nor do I regret it, Algund,' said Beleg. 'Since the time I joined your band, I have seen you fight only orcs and you fought them bravely...'

He reached out and squeezed Algund's shoulder, on the side that was not hurt. Algund sighed again, but less deeply, and consented to accept the proffered lembas.

How you embroil me, Turin, thought Beleg. It is not that I was wrong or have misjudged--these men are indeed too weak to be the force against Morgoth that you want them to be. Even the best of them have been tested brutally and broken under the testing. The only wise course would--still--be to return to Doriath. But, remaining for your sake, by now I have already fought too many battles alongside Algund and the others--and now I, too, could not abandon them without a measure of regret or betrayal. I am beginning to feel an inkling of the hold they have over you...

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Chapter End Notes

I read canon as saying that Algund actually fought in the Nirnaeth, but apparently not everyone does. The sentence in Children of Hurin that seems to say so is ambiguous.