Situation Assessment by Grundy

Chapter 1

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“I’m pretty much fucked.”

Beren gave a rueful laugh as he concluded his tale, but the summation hung in the air as weighty as the Doom – and equally as unavoidable.

Findaráto sighed internally and refrained from trying to explain to the lad that the word he had chosen to describe his situation would only confuse most elves. Even he found it a bit off-putting.

The Lindar knew joining only as an enjoyable activity, undertaken for pleasure or for comfort. Using a vulgar word for it to describe a dire situation would make no sense to them. The Noldor (and the Vanyar) believed the act was only to be undertaken with one’s mate, a meeting of souls as much as of bodies. Even the idea of describing it with a vulgarity as Men did would be repugnant to them – and that was before the added wrinkle that some Men had been known to force such intimate contact on those they deemed weaker or lesser, thus giving rise to Beren’s usage.

But Barahir’s son wasn’t looking for a lecture on the differences in their peoples’ approach to the matter of sex.

“I’m sorry,” the boy continued. “I shouldn’t have involved you in this sorry affair. I know I’ve complicated things for you, if not worse. But I didn’t know where else to turn for… help, I guess? Or advice at least. I mean, not only is Luthien your cousin, there’s this.”

He twirled Findaráto’s ring nervously.

“What under the stars possessed you to assent to such a ridiculous quest?” Findaráto asked, gesturing for Beren to take a seat. He poured a glass of wine for each of them, a rich red from Mithrim. “Thingol might have found less dangerous ways to remove you, if that was his sole aim.”

He was stalling, and he knew it even if Beren didn’t. He was bound to do more than just advise. The ring on the boy’s finger made his request for help all but a command. A debt was owed, and it had to be repaid.

Only a life can pay for a life.

That was another thing Barahir’s people said.

Findaráto hadn’t thought on it in years, but the mannish aphorism suddenly took on the light of something uncomfortably close to foresight. He tried to push it away, not wanting to acknowledge it. He hadn’t assented to anything, least of all a direct assault on Angband. Unlike the mortal boy, he knew full well what mercy they could expect from the Enemy – and which of them would endure it longer.

Beren ignored the offered chair and wine to pace the length of Findaráto’s study.

“When he first said it, I thought he was joking. A jewel from the Iron Crown? I laughed!”

Findaráto had to suppress a groan.

“Once I’d done that, I had no good choice but to play it off as though I thought it no great matter. I’d rather look overbold than witless or craven. So I told him elven fathers counted their daughters of little worth if they set their bride price so low, and that he hadn’t seen the last of me – and the next time we met, I’d have a Silmaril in my hand.”

In other words, Beren had made everything worse.

Thingol was not swift to forget an insult and had already heartily disliked his daughter’s lover. Laughing at him in his own hall… The boy would have done better to humble himself and beg for an achievable errand. Thingol would almost surely have had to back down. Between the pity of most of the Iathrim, who must have understood perfectly well that Thingol was trying to kill the boy without technically breaking his promise to his daughter, and the anger Findaráto didn’t doubt Luthien had been restraining in public, he wouldn’t have been able to hold out very long. But now, if by some freak of chance the boy did manage to retrieve the jewel, Thingol might well demand the other two.

Not to mention there was the trifling matter of what Findaráto other cousins would have to say about Thingol demanding one of the jewels they were sworn to regain – and that by their Oath, they would not see in the hands of any other. They would hear of this, and soon. Beren might be the first to bear tidings of Thingol’s ‘bride price’ from Doriath, but it was certain he wouldn’t be the last.

Findaráto realized with a sinking feeling that it would be best if he were the one to tell them before they had the news from anyone else. Tyelko at least could be counted on to vent his temper on orcs or just disappear to hunt and only turn up again when he was calm. But Findaráto wasn’t looking forward to hearing Curvo’s thoughts on the matter.

He was pleased to note Beren was staring morosely into the fire, his back to his host. Findaráto drained his glass in one gulp before he could be caught. He might quibble with the wording, but the boy’s assessment was uncomfortably accurate.

 

 

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