Walking into Darkness by Aiwen

| | |

The Great Debate

The next morning I met with Beren again. He seemed relieved to see me, and I had the impression that he had not actually believed I would offer real and concrete help. I felt indignant for a moment at that, but then I remembered Thingol's behaviour and Beren's past. After a life like his, it must be very hard to trust someone he had barely met, especially an elf in a position of power. If I wanted to see anything different from him, I was going to have to demonstrate it myself.

Before the main meeting, I went to Curufin and Celegorm and spoke to them privately. They took the news surprisingly well, and Celegorm declared himself open to the possibility of coming with us to attempt to reclaim the other two Silmarils, although he seemed very worried about giving one to Thingol, even if their oath did not technically forbid them giving a Silmaril away. He insisted that if we were to do this thing, he was coming with me into Angband. Curufin said next to nothing, but then he rarely shows what he thinks or feels. When he does show an emotion, one can't be certain that it is what he's actually feeling. Altogether, it could have gone much worse.

The main meeting took place in the great hall. Rumors had been flying since Beren's appearance, and I found it filled by a crowd that fell silent as I entered, with a few more people still trickling in. Well, if everyone had turned up as I had asked, that was all to the good. I waited until the trickle slowed, and then began to speak. "As many of you no doubt already know, Beren son of Barahir has recently come to Nargothrond seeking aid in the name of his father. I am sure that all of you know the tale of how Barahir saved both me and many others at the fens of Serech. What you may not know of are more recent events in Dorthonion. The people of Beor are effectively extinct save those who fled to Dor-lomin or Brethil, and Beren alone."

There were a few shocked murmurs before I continued. "They fell one by one fighting against Gorthaur, until but twelve were left. One of Barahir's companions was captured and betrayed the others under torture. Beren alone survived. He then fought on, and despite being alone against an entire army headed by an Umaiar, he caused so much trouble that the price on his head is second only to that on the head of Fingon High King of the Noldor. The trouble he caused has been greatly to our advantage here in Nargothrond, because he kept Gorthaur so busy that he could not find the time to press his attack against us here in the south. This has given us time to regroup, and we have done so. But that barrier against Gorthaur and against the north has now been broken, and Beren comes to us for aid. I say he deserves it, for his own actions as well as those of his father and his ancestors."

"As for what he asks of us, it is aid in a quest of his own that he cannot possibly succeed in unaided. For he and Luthien daughter of Thingol have fallen in love. King Thingol was greatly angered by this, but instead of simply saying no he has set Beren a task. In order to win his daughter's hand, he would have Beren bring him a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown. An impossible quest for one man alone, no matter how brave or cunning. He will not get help from elsewhere, so any help offered will have to come from us. And we can help."

There was a sudden hissing sound from somewhere over by the near left pillar: the sound of a sword being drawn. Silence fell, and into it Celegorm spoke, holding his naked sword up above his head, where it gleamed coldly in the light of the lanterns. He cried: "Be he friend or foe, whether demon of Morgoth, or Elf, or child of Men, or any other living thing in Arda, neither law, nor love, nor league of hell, nor might of the Valar, nor any power of wizardry, shall defend him from the pursuing hate of Feanor's sons, if he take or find a Silmaril and keep it. For the Silmarils we alone claim, until the world ends 1)." His face was red, but his eyes glittered and he held himself proudly, as if he were king. Curufin said nothing, but his eyes also gleamed and his mouth was hidden behind his hand.

What are they doing? I wondered. I thought that he had come to agree with me, and to take the opportunity to reclaim his own!

"... Do you think that our oath means nought? Thus have we sworn, and thus we will do or die! Think, people! Were a Silmaril to come into any hands but ours, there would be war and it would not be war with Morgoth. Do you want another Alqualonde?"

"But that assumes that the quest can actually be achieved," Curufin stepped smoothly into the shocked silence left by Celegorm's assertions. "I do not think it can. No matter how much help you give this mortal, he will never be able to take the very crown from Morgoth's head. Fingolfin himself was killed fighting Morgoth, and nobody else has even managed to get a sight of him without being a captive. It is an impossible quest, and there is no reason whatever for you to get killed on it. What care we if the mortal has fallen in love with Thingol's daughter? I wouldn't let my daughter marry a mortal. If I had a daughter, which I don't."

Some nervous laughter greeted his comment.

The Feanorians have run away with them. If I am to regain control of this meeting, I must do so now! This has all happened before. Memories of that night in the darkened city of Tirion lit by torches, listening to Feanor speak, opened before my eyes. I shook my head, trying to clear my sight and my mind. I must stay in the present! But I could feel the darkness growing, despite the clear blue light of the lanterns, and no one heard my next words over the crowd.

"Let the King speak!" someone cried.

It took a few moments, but the hall quieted enough for me to be heard. "I have no intention of attempting to force open the way to Angband with an army from Nargothrond. I agree it wouldn't work, and I am no more fond of losing lives chasing after impossible oaths than they are, as I am certain those of you who were in Tirion remember."

A few people snickered at that reminder, but most remained deadly serious. "However, between here and Angband lies what used to be Minas Tirith. It poses a deadly hazard to both Beren and to us here in Nargothrond. We should retake it. It can be done - we are not demoralized as we were at the time when it fell. It should be done, for by its very existence it keeps the elvish kingdoms from communicating easily, and from offering aid to one another when attacked. If it stands, it increases the likelihood that each Kingdom will fall to Morgoth without any other being able to aid them. No kingdom can stand against the might of Morgoth alone. By helping Beren, we help ourselves."

Celegorm glared at me, and demanded: "Why should we help this man fulfill an impossible quest to take an object that is not his to give it to someone to whom it does not belong?"

Curufin continued: "Why indeed? You have a fine and a beautiful city here that should be kept in strength, not endangered. Do you value your own lives as worthless? I do not, even if some others here might. And think what happens if someone is captured, and breaks! All the secrecy and hiding of this city and the ways of the realm could be for nought. It only takes one."

"Yes, it only takes one," I answered, "but that is a risk we live with always, and so far we have managed to keep our honour intact, and have not succumbed to fear. For while I established Nargothrond to be a refuge in times of trouble, of what use is a refuge when the people offer help to none but themselves? I did not found Nargothrond to sit in bliss while other people suffer, nor to turn away and hide while the Kingdoms of our people crumble!"

Curufin didn't answer me directly. "Think of this beautiful city," he gestured at the hall around him, "lying in ruins. Your children dead, your wives and yourselves thralls in Morgoth's halls. Is this what you want? For it will surely be, if you follow this path. There is no hope in it, none at all. And it could all be prevented so easily..." he shook his head in seeming disbelief. "None here doubts your courage, but is it wise to so provoke Morgoth? Stealing the crown off his head: even the attempt at it is suicidal!"

"Destroying or retaking Minas Tirith is not suicidal; it is our best path to our own survival!" I retorted.

Curufin merely continued: "But you are not mad. You are sane and wise, and surely you will not be party to your own deaths. Given how well hidden this land is, you might be able to escape his notice altogether. My cousin's secrecy policy is wise, but it does not go far enough. How do you know that any stranger has not been turned in captivity? You cannot. So don't let them in, nor even turn them back at the borders. Make them disappear, and with them, this land will disappear from Morgoth's gaze. If he cannot see you, you will live. Defy him, and you will die."

Playing on their fears to make my people become less than they are, when he is but a guest I took in out of pity and duty to kin? How dare he!

"So I take it that you would have us forget oaths and leagues of friendship, and the laws given us by the Valar - in order that we might have a few years free from Morgoth while he destroys the rest of our people?" I turned away from Curufin to look at the others in the crowd. "For that is all they are suggesting - Morgoth will never be content while any of our realms stand and we cannot hide forever. If we are the last left, he will bend all his power to destroy us, and we shall be destroyed. Where will you go to hide when all realms have fallen because you would not fight?"

"But why should you go willfully into peril on a quest that will help only one man?" Curufin asked, spreading his hands as if the notion were completely incomprehensible. "He isn't even the same man who rescued your King."

"It seems completely rediculous to me," answered Celegorm. "You swore no oath."

"There is more at stake than you see..." I began, intending to explain about Beren's visibly high doom, and the possibilities that might yet be if we dared to help. I never got the chance to try.

"So now you claim special knowledge?" Celegorm demanded. "I might have known. You lean on the Valar like a crutch, Finrod! and they will never even hear you here in our exile. We are utterly alone, and your reliance will betray you. When have they ever cared for anyone but themselves?"

I could feel the crowd's shock, but one voice rose above the rest. "Yea, and who made you a Vala to command us? 1)" It was Guilin. My heart turned to ice within me. If he was against me, I had lost utterly. I turned to Orodreth, but he was just standing there, face ashen pale, then to Thorontir, who would not look at me. There would be no help. Yet for all the reasons I had thought of earlier, the quest must go on, and it must not fail. And if all I had to give was myself, then I would give that. I picked the crown off my head and threw it to the floor. It rang loudly, and the sound was followed by utter silence. With difficulty, I spoke:

"Your oaths of faith to me you may break, but I must hold my bond. Yet if there be any on whom the shadow of our curse has not yet fallen, I should find at least a few to follow me, and should not go hence as a beggar that is thrust from the gates! 1)"

Celegorm looked delighted, Curufin unreadable. He must have planned all this beforehand. Why did they do this? Power. They wanted the throne. And the darkness in the halls was complete, though the lanterns gleamed as bright as ever. Curufin and Celegorm held their hearts in thrall, to what end I knew not, save that it would be to ruin.

"He's gone mad," someone muttered. "He can't possibly storm Minas Tirith by himself."

"I do not intend to try," I said, replying to the unseen person. "However, I can and will go with Beren on his quest and help him as best I can."

"But you are the King, you need to stay here and lead us," said lord Guilin, looking extremely upset.

"I cannot lead people who will not be led, nor can I lead by evading my responsibilities and breaking oaths to those whom I lead - or have you forgotten that Beren is one of my people also?"

Edrahil stepped forward, and I looked at him gratefully. At least the one person who really understood why I was doing this was with me. I might be foresaken, but I was still right. I must hold to that, whatever the rest think. Edrahil paused and looked around him. "What, nobody else? Surely someone other than me has a shard of honour left! I know that my life and the King's were not the only ones saved by Barahir and his men." Four others came forward, then another and another, until ten people stood beside me. No one else came. Now what? I made a move as if to walk out of the hall.

Edrahil stepped to my side again, and began to speak, urgently. "They may return from their madness in time, but you cannot go like this. You remain my king and theirs, whatever betide 1). Leave a steward!" He was right. Orodreth. The crown is his by rights if I am gone. I just hope he can handle it; he is not well in his mind and those Feanorians are deadly wyrms.

"Give the crown to Orodreth," I answered. "He will rule until I return." Not that I really expected to return, but when hope dies all is lost. Edrahil picked up the crown and handed it to Orodreth, who received it without a word.

I and my companions walked out of the hall.

1) direct quote from the Silmarillion

Table of Contents | Leave a Comment