Marilliën and the Fall of Doriath by Kaylee Arafinwiel

Chapter 1

This is the Fall of Doriath. There will be death and plenty of it, but none of the actual killing is described in detail.

Marilliën drifted listlessly through the smoking wreckage of Doriath. She had been surprised from behind, attacked by a young Noldo who had got the drop on her, and merely thanked Atar he hadn’t been able to kill her properly. If she’d had to return West by way of Mandos…but no, he’d left her broken, bleeding, but alive.

With effort, she’d shed her fana, and now walked unseen through the smoking ash and bloodstained bodies. It was not long before she realised where she was being drawn, and her aura flickered with dismay as she beheld the ruin of Lord Celepharn’s manor, and the living occupants who had reached it just before she had.

Neldiel’s boys. Celepharn and Neldiel’s boys were in shock, she knew, combing through the smoldering ruin. They had come from a hunting trip with their gwador, to find…this.

It wasn’t fair.

None of this was fair. It wouldn’t have happened if the Enemy hadn’t stolen the Silmarils, if Feanor and his sons hadn’t sworn that cursed oath, if…

A keening cry tore her from her musings, and she headed swiftly in its direction.

No. Oh no…*Atar, no,* she cried, lifting her anguish to the One. *Atar, why?*

There was no answer, save the feeling of Love engulfing her gently. She had the sensation of being rocked and comforted, but nothing could erase the terrible sight.

Oropher, kneeling in a pool of blood, gathering his beautiful mother in his arms. Broken and bleeding, Neldiel’s eyes stared sightlessly.

Oropher sobbed, his brothers – born and chosen – clinging to him helplessly. And there, too, was Celepharn, just as dead, slain and slayer both. The Noldo whose blade was buried in Celepharn’s chest was skewered on Celepharn’s own sword.