Sad But True by Ecthelion

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Sad But True: Part One

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When he caught a glimpse of a dark figure moving in the woods, he was alone in the wild.

He brought no guard with him when he left Nargothrond. He found himself spreading unusual silence on his way out, for he saw people whispering among themselves until they spotted him. Curufin needs to deal with this, he thought, holding his head high. Meeting their gazes directly, he stared back at them, until one by one they lowered their eyes.

But his steed knew him better. The stallion kept a confident and steady pace until they left the sight of others, and started galloping as soon as they were far enough from the gate. As the hooves beat the ground, his hair was caught in the cold wind, but his face was grim, eyes filled with rage.

Thingol had sent no replies to him so far. In fact, as time went by, it became more and more clear that old Elwë Singollo, sheltered under the power of his wife, would not accept his proposal. Holding his daughter above anything else in the world, the King of Doriath would not give her hand to others easily. Doubtlessly the two suitors as of now had set him beyond wrath: one was a mortal Man he had ever despised, the other a Fëanorian he had ever loathed. At this, he would have laughed had Thingol's daughter not fled from Nargothrond and taken Huan with her.

On both sides of his path, hills and creeks seemed to be flashing backwards. Barren woods of late winter and patches of snow on the ground were blurred into a mixture of dark brown and pale white. He did not notice when the sun disappeared behind the clouds, but the dim light suddenly made him wonder if he was once again on a mission doomed to fail.

She was found missing one morning by his brother. For the first time in his life, he saw Curufin lose his composure.

'It was your dog! He aided Thingol's daughter to escape!' roared his brother. When he asked if Curufin was referring to Huan, his brother stared at him in disbelief: 'Do you have any other dog?'

But how could Huan have possibly done this? Did he not always know Huan very well? Of course, he knew that Huan had liked Thingol's daughter and disliked his arrangement for her, but Huan had been loyal to him. It was for him that Huan left the Blessed Realm and joined the exile of the Noldor. From Alqualondë to Araman, from Losgar to Nan Elmoth, wherever he went, whatever he did, Huan had always been at his side. Why did Huan leave him for Thingol's daughter, to rescue a short-lived mortal whom the hound had never even known?

Nevertheless, it was undeniable. Thingol's daughter was gone, so was Huan. As soon as they were found missing, he led his guards to go after them but found no trace of them, which was not surprising at all, for Huan was no ordinary hound.

When he returned to Nargothrond, his brother was waiting for him in his chamber. Curufin had recovered from the tempest of rage. 'It is no accident. Your dog devised a plan and executed every step.'

Frowning, he listened but was distracted by a dull headache. He had not slept well the night before, for that dream, the dream about her, would never let him rest.

'Your dog returned her cloak to her - I suppose you remember her cloak? - and chose a secret passage that is unknown to most.'

So Huan truly betrayed me to help her. Regardless of his strange tiredness, he was brought to the verge of venting his wrath and frustration, but Curufin spoke before he could, voice icy cold.

'I have been wondering about one thing though: How on Arda did your dog manage to unlock the door to her chamber?'

With that, his anger subsided. Bracing himself, he expected blame, but Curufin did not blame him. His brother simply sighed and left.

It was obvious where Thingol's daughter would go: Tol-in-Gaurhoth, where Sauron dwelt, for that was also where Finrod and Beren were trapped. Along with Huan, she would try to rescue them, and would probably die in the hopeless attempt. To his own surprise, he found himself not nearly as indifferent as expected. Will they survive? Will they succeed? he wondered. Or, will they return?

He stopped this train of thought as soon as he felt a headache. Whether they will or not, I will leave it to Curufin.

And Curufin demonstrated his great talent in ruling. Rumors about Thingol's daughter were handled so delicately that the truth was only known among a few insiders. Along with Curufin, he continued to openly scorn the authority of Orodreth; watching the Prince Regent of Nargothrond unwillingly bend his golden head, he recovered his pride and confidence. Let Thingol's daughter go. I need neither her nor Doriath. And I do not need you either, Huan. You are merely a dog. Without you, Nargothrond is still in my hands.

Yet every time he saw those who had once sworn their allegiance to the House of Finarfin standing tame and quiet in the great hall, he could not but listen to a voice whispering deep in his mind: Everything you have done so far leads to an unexpected end.

It did not take long for the signs of his foreboding to appear. News came from the borders that many strange creatures were found attempting to enter their lands; later, more reports followed and confirmed it in greater detail. He concluded it must be another scheme of Sauron to spy on Nargothrond, and prepared a host in order to put an end to it. However, before they set off to meet the enemies, new reports arrived and turned everything into turmoil. It turned out that those strange creatures were not servants of Sauron but Elves, captured in Dagor Bragollach and enslaved by the enemies. Now they managed to escape from Sauron's dungeons, because an Elven maiden along with a great hound had defeated Sauron the Abhorred and driven him away, and the island once defiled by evil and sorcery was clean again.

Moreover, they claimed that Finrod was not killed upon his capture. It was said that the eldest son of Finarfin fought Sauron using a song of power and remained unidentified though defeated, and was thrown into a deep pit along with his eleven companions. No one knew what had happened down there, but every one believed when the Elven maiden came, Finrod had just passed away.

At such news, the whole kingdom of Nargothrond was shocked. Previous official announcement of Finrod's death conflicted with these tales in every aspect. Rumors spread like wildfire, and speculations rose like an endless tide. He even overheard some careless conversations himself:

'But did Lord Celegorm not fall in love with Lady Lúthien?'

'Which could be exactly why he did not attempt to rescue Beren, and King Finrod.'

Although most of the speculations were clearly ridiculous, as time went by, some of them came close to the truth. Thingol's daughter must have known who were trapped in Sauron's dungeons; and Lord Celegorm and Lord Curufin, whom she had trusted, must have learned her reasons of leaving Doriath. But instead of helping her, the two sons of Fëanor chose to tell others that King Finrod was dead, and claimed the kingship of Nargothrond. Such an act constituted treason, treason of kin unto kin. Even if they had had no such intention, the fact that they had made no attempt to rescue their cousin would have still proved their cowardice: valiant warriors as they depicted themselves, they were less courageous than a maiden who had never wielded a sword.

For the second time, the realm mourned for Finrod. He did not know the full impact these events had on him and his brother, but he noticed that people were whispering among themselves everywhere. Even his own following were no better. When his herald was either too bold or too stupid to blurt out his doubts in front of him, he jumped up as a renowned hasty-riser, but did not vent his anger. Instead, he simply went to get his horse and announced that he would go out for a ride, alone. Of course, a lot of concerns were raised about his reckless decision, but he ignored all of them out of spite and mistrust.

Fools! You expect me to go to rescue Finrod, the biggest fool of all? If I had commanded you to risk your own lives to attack Sauron's Isle, would you have been more content? 'Cowards', you dare to call us cowards. But who are the cowards? Merely by words Curufin set so great a fear into your hearts that ever since then you have forsaken open battles; who are the cowards indeed? And who fought on the borders of this realm and drove evil creatures out of your land? Instead of appreciating what we have done to spare your lives, you want to call us cowards? So eager to die as you are, may the evil fire of Morgoth take you all!

The irresponsible curse called his sense back. He absolutely had no intention to wish luck to Morgoth. Wondering what ailed him, he inhaled heavily and told his horse to slow down, and just then he caught a glimpse of a dark figure moving in the woods.

He took up his bow in the blink of an eye, but did not put an arrow to the string, for he noticed his horse was not nervous. The stallion became relaxed yet a little excited, as if he had recognized an old friend.

As he sat straight on horseback and waited, the dark figure reappeared. This time it did not evade him but walked slowly out of the gloom under the trees. When it stopped in front of him, he finally met its eyes - no, his eyes, for those were the eyes he had known so well.

It was Huan.

For a moment an urge almost took him, the urge of jumping off the horse, rushing forward, and holding his partner and friend regardless of what he had decided. If he had believed he was not troubled by Huan's departure, he must have been in denial, for how could he possibly break a brotherly bond that had been so deeply etched into him, or forget it had existed? All the attempts and efforts could only serve to bury it deeper and deeper.

But he remained perfectly still, expressionless, bow in hand. In his heart the soft spot just exposed was now licked by bitter flames, scorching and crackling, as his pride gradually prevailed.

So, you are back. Has she no need of you any more? Or are you finally tired of her?

The hound did not flinch but held his gaze, eyes sparkling in the dim light, filled with sorrow and dignity, yet no regret.

Not until then did he take notice of those unhealed wounds and fresh scars, half hidden in the thick fur. He had never seen Huan wounded like this, not since the hound began to fight at his side. So you truly fought Sauron for her? he dropped all the grudge and wanted to shout into the hound's ears. But I would never allow you to take such a risk and put yourself at stake! How could you have done that? Why are you so stubborn and stupid?

But in the end he said none of them. He simply turned and stated: 'Then, come with me.'

He would never admit that he was grateful to hear from behind Huan's feet breaking the half-melted snow.

The return of Huan seemed to draw little attention in Nargothrond. He left the hound with the healers of his household, but the look in the hound's eyes haunted him as he walked towards his own quarter, until he passed Curufin's chamber.

'I have to ask you, for there is no one else to ask!'

His nephew must be shouting at his brother, based on the fact that the door was closed.

'Do they speak truly about what has happened?'

He could not hear his brother's reply, for despite Celebrimbor's passion, Curufin apparently kept his voice down and remained as calm as ever. With no intention to intervene, he walked on, for he knew better than to try to lecture his brother on how to persuade the youngest prince in the House of Fëanor.

He returned to his own quarter and sat down near the window. He needed no rest, but he could use some peace and quiet. As he got himself comfortable, he heard some faint noise outside, but it subsided after a while.

Little by little, his mind began to wander. He was led into the world that lay between reality and its many shadows, and navigated through vast emptiness and darkness, knowing what to look for though not where to go.

He knew he would see her there, and he did. She appeared ahead, dressed all in white and silver as always, with her back towards him. Now that he had got used to the pain her presence would stir in him, he could take a closer look at her. Instantly, he noticed she was different this time. Her figure was blurred, as if it had been washed away by the river of Time. Can a fire so proud and unruly eventually burn out? he wanted to know. Or maybe I would never know, because her fire, however similar it feels to mine, is never the same?

As if she had sensed his gaze, she turned around.

He gasped. He opened his eyes, but for a second his breath stopped and his heart stuttered, partly out of surprise and partly out of fear. For it was not her. The face he saw, sad but calm, more beautiful than anyone else in the world, belonged to Thingol's daughter.

Still recovering, he heard a knock on the door. To his surprise, the next moment it was opened without his acknowledgement. He jumped up and felt fully justified to rebuke anyone who had dared to intrude like this, but he was again surprised by those who entered. Although dressed like guards, they were not any guards he knew, not even his own people.

'Lord Celegorm, King Orodreth requests your presence in the Great Hall.'

When he strode into the Great Hall of Nargothrond, it seemed to him that everyone in the stronghold had been summoned there. Most of them were of the House of Finarfin, and the rest were the following of him and his brother. But at this moment, the difference in their allegiance was put aside, for they all kept silence, intimidating silence that actually posed a threat. As he walked through the crowd towards the High Seat, eyes followed him, and he could feel the weight of their gazes.

When he stopped before the dais, all grew still except shadows cast on the stone walls by numerous lights. His brother was already there; if surprised, Curufinwë Atarinkë did not show it. The favorite son of Fëanor gave no heed to what was around him but fixed his eyes on one, the one who stood in front of the High Seat, with a silver crown shining on his golden head.

Is that Finrod?!

No, it was not Finrod. It was Orodreth - 'King Orodreth', as those insolent guards had said. He could not but sneer at it. If Orodreth had thought he was made King by a crown on his head, he must have gone mad. As the second son of Finarfin, Orodreth had always been a lesser shadow of the eldest: less noble, less wise, less strong in mind, and much less fair in appearance. Some were born to follow, not to lead.

But just when he stepped onto the dais, the Prince Regent spoke. 'You have no right here.'

He caught sight of movements out of the corner of his eye and immediately recognized them as seasoned warriors, fully armed. From where they were, they made no threat, but their attitude sent a clear message: stay where you are.

Something was wrong. Not until then did he look straight at Orodreth, a cousin he had scorned and overlooked. To his surprise, the Prince Regent of Nargothrond was no longer the weakling he remembered. A fire burned in the golden-haired prince, a fire that he, as a son of Fëanor, recognized and resonated with, that reminded him of Finrod who had cast the silver crown of Nargothrond at his own feet.

It was Curufin who broke the temporary silence. 'If it is the throne to which you refer, Lord Orodreth, I am afraid you have no more claim than my brother does.'

The Prince Regent answered in conceit. 'When the King left, he trusted this kingdom to me and appointed me the Prince Regent here. Now my brother and king is gone, by right I shall take up the kingship, and I shall never allow those who have conspired against him to usurp the kingdom he had founded.'

Curufin raised a brow. 'Who conspired against him?'

Orodreth did not hesitate. 'You, and your brother.'

These words set the whole hall in an uproar. In the deafening noise, someone made his way through the crowd, came to the dais, and stood next to Curufin.

'Lord Orodreth, you have made a serious accusation.' Celebrimbor managed to keep his voice calm, but his eyes sparkled of anxiety. 'Do you have evidence?'

'I have a witness,' Orodreth said, tone softened. 'Whose integrity, I believe, even your uncle cannot deny.'

'Bring him forth then!' he was set off by the unexpected reference.

But Orodreth gave him a strange look, full of pity and disgust. 'As you wish.'

With that, the Prince Regent abruptly stepped aside, and from behind the High Seat Huan padded out.

He paid no heed to the following accusations made by Orodreth and supplemented by those who had escaped from Sauron's dungeons, because he knew all of them must be true, except the part that said he was enamored of Thingol's daughter, which he would never clarify, for he preferred such rumors over the truth.

He fixed his eyes on Huan regardless of his surroundings. My loyal friend, he thought, finding it ironic beyond measure. Is all that I wish to have and keep doomed to be lost in the most unimaginable fashion?

Huan confirmed everything that he and his brother were accused of, not by words but by nods, though it was widely known that the hound of Valinor was allowed to speak three times in his life. Very well. You wish to waste no precious chances of speaking on us. As his mind swam in a sea of rage and hurt, shouts and cries from the crowd became louder and louder.

'Traitors! Ungrateful traitors!'

'Justice!'

Alerted by those terms, he reached for his sword, only to find it not at his side. But he was rather indignant than afraid, facing a tide of fury and hatred. Fools! Who guarded your realm? Who fought your foes? You say we are ungrateful, but what about you? Are you any better than we are? After all, who rejected their liege lord, and who acquiesced our reign? 'Justice', what are you to judge us? Judge yourselves first!

Orodreth lifted up a hand. Seeing his gesture, the crowd slowly quieted down, waiting for their rightful King to speak.

'King Finrod was my brother.' said Orodreth. 'He was wise to found a kingdom, and brave to defend it. He was noble to forgive his cousins who ruthlessly murdered his mother's kin, and kind to provide them with shelter after their defeat. If he had not given his life to fulfill his promise, he would have been generous enough to stop pursuing their treason and betrayal.' the King paused. 'But I am not as kind and generous as he was.'

The burst of approval was so great that the King had to lift up his hand again. 'No, I will not suffer my people to slay my cousins either, for the spilling of kindred blood by kin would bind the curse of Mandos more closely upon us. But I will not allow them to stay here, for I would grant neither bread nor rest to traitors! Hereby I say to you, Celegorm and Curufin: Leave, and leave soon; there shall be little love between Nargothrond and the sons of Fëanor hereafter!'

'Let it be so!' he answered above all the noise, fell and proud. I would not stay here even if you asked me to. The day shall come when you realize what kind of mistake you have made.

But his brother said nothing. Curufin simply followed him out, with a smile on his lips.

When they made ready to leave, he did not see Celebrimbor with his brother, nor did he find him in those silently watching their departure, of whom some still bore the Star of Fëanor, his own herald included. He looked at Curufin and read nothing from his brother's face, but however insensitive he was, he knew better than to ask his brother about his nephew then.

He mounted on his horse. He had his bow and arrow on his back, his sword at his side, and his spear hung from the saddle. One by one he looked at those who had followed him but chosen to stay, eyes icy cold. So you have betrayed us, although you once swore your allegiance to the House of Fëanor. Do you think you can free yourselves from the curse? Fools, you cannot, for I say thus. From now on, you shall bear not only that evil curse but also this doom I add: the Doom shall find you before me, and you shall be utterly defeated because of the one you trust and support. For your treason, this is the price!

Turning from those hateful faces, he urged his stallion to gallop through the Great Gate.

Along with Curufin, he crossed the many creeks he had crossed when he came, and went over the many hills he had once gone over. He did not slow down until the hidden kingdom of Narog was far behind and out of sight, but then he saw an unexpected follower, trailing them like a sad ghost.

Teeth clenched, he stared at the hound. Your betrayal has cost us the key to Doriath, the crown of Nargothrond, and the youngest heir of the House of Fëanor. How dare you follow me still? Do you intend to see me destroyed?

'Which way should we take, Turko?' Curufin asked then, as if he had never seen the hound.

It seemed to be a simple choice, for the power of the House of Fëanor lay mainly in two places: Himring and Amon Ereb. Maedhros along with Maglor still held the fortress of Himring and the lands nearby, while Caranthir along with Amrod and Amras retreated to the South and made their camp at Amon Ereb. But he hesitated before answering. Himring meant Maedhros and obedience, while Amon Ereb meant Caranthir and conflict.

'I suggest Himring.' seeing his hesitation, Curufin said. And seeing his frown, Curufin added: 'Because our eldest brother has the right to know what has happened in Nargothrond and what aid Finrod had planned to offer to a mortal.'

Then he understood. Curufin was right, for he almost forgot the cause of all the trouble: the Silmarils. Finrod had helped someone other than the sons of Fëanor to recover a Silmaril, which was a fact Maedhros would never overlook. Once they had the support of Maedhros, they would have the full support of the remaining strength of the House of Fëanor, which meant nearly half of the Noldor.

'Himring.' He agreed. For that, he supposed he could live with some obedience.

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Chapter End Notes

Words in bold are adapted from The Silmarillion.