Before the Coming of the End by Himring

Chapter 1

Everything was white and cold. It had been so for a very long time; it would never change.

But suddenly--in the blink of an eye, if Turin had even been capable of blinking-- amidst the whiteness, there was a shape like a man in a white hood and a white cloak and it was coming towards Turin and the figure in white threw back its hood and it was Beleg.

Of course it was Beleg. It was inevitable that Beleg should come for him, as he had first done when Turin, together with Gethron and Grithnir, was lost and freezing to death on the border of Doriath and as he had done after that, so many times--even if, only the moment before, it had been impossible and unthinkable that Beleg should ever come for him again. That had all been part of the whiteness and the coldness and the silence: as if the Laer Cu Beleg had paused in its lament on one long-held note that had continued so long that the ears could no longer perceive it.

But Beleg was there--and by that, in itself, the whiteness and coldness was lessened. And Beleg brought out his pack from beneath his cloak and took out a wafer of lembas and offered it to him. Turin saw Beleg's face and his hand and the lembas, but he could not react: he could not feel his tongue in his mouth or his hands or sense any part of his body at all.

'Turin', said Beleg, 'you are near frozen.'

And Turin heard Beleg's voice, even if he could not answer--as if Beleg was still teaching him how to survive in the wilderness, as he had done so long ago.

Beleg caught Turin's hands in his and Turin felt, just a little, Beleg's touch and then Beleg was rubbing his fingers and gradually more and more feeling returned to them and spread inch by inch to the rest of Turin's body. He found he could open his mouth but still he could not speak. Beleg shook his head and fed him the wafer of lembas, slowly, bit by bit.

'Come with me', he said then and took Turin's hand and led him from that place--and Turin found he could follow because Beleg led.

As they walked, the shapeless whiteness and coldness around them acquired shape and became ice and snow and then there came a great rushing of water, as if it was the end of a long and grim winter and the ice was melting.

It seemed to Turin that they came to Ivrin and that the place had changed almost out of recognition yet again, for the waters had been there before them and, overflowing the banks, had washed all the poison and foulness of Glaurung away.

By the shore stood Gwindor, waiting for them, and he was grown hale again--seeming healed not only of the fatal wounds he had received at Tumhalad, but also of the hurt done to him in Angband. Yet he gazed at Turin calmly but somewhat sorrowfully as with both hands he held out a sword to him.

Turin received the sword and unsheathed it, almost without thinking, and he saw it was Gurthang, re-forged a second time, and it now shone with a sharp white light.

And the sword spoke and said to Turin: 'Hail, Master of Doom! Long have I waited for you to wield me again and so the names of both of us shall be cleared!'

But Turin blanched and trembled and almost dropped the sword.

And he asked Gwindor: 'How can this be right that I should fight again? Was this not the choice I made, always, and was it not wrong every time, leading only to evil?'

But Gwindor answered: 'Not entirely wrong! And now the time is right.'

And Turin looked to Beleg for guidance and asked him: 'Can this be true?'

And Beleg answered: 'It is.'

And Turin saw that Beleg had somehow discarded his white hood and cloak and pack and instead bore his great bow Belthronding again, with all his arrows fledged for war.

A clear call came from up ahead and Turin could see a woman approaching them in haste. Her hair was gold and billowed about her head and his heart wrenched, thinking for a moment it was Nienor. But she came closer and he saw that it was Finduilas and she was in armour and wielded a great spear.

'Come, Turin, we are needed!' she cried and she caught his hand in strong fingers, pulling him quickly after her.

And as they rushed towards the tall Gates, one hand in Finduilas's grip and his other clenched around Gurthang's hilt, Turin thought not of vengeance or glory, he only fervently hoped that this time he would get it right.

Chapter End Notes

Admittedly, there is not all that much dialogue in this piece, but I hope it is acceptable as a fill for the request!