Walking into Darkness by Aiwen

I Don't Understand

This can't be happening, I thought, still clutching Finrod's crown in my hand. Finrod can't have been deposed by the Feanorians, walked out, and dumped the rule of Nargothrond in my lap! I can't do this! I should do something, but what? And now he's walked out of the hall, and we're all standing stunned staring after him. "I declare this meeting adjourned," I announced, and walked out of the hall. Maybe I can talk sense into him; they can't have left yet because I know they haven't made preparations. Just what is he planning to do anyway?

I found him in his quarters, collecting materials needed for the trip. There were maps piled on the bed, and armour, food... I stopped and stood in the doorway, not knowing what to say. He continued packing. Several packages of lembas slid off and fell to the floor. I stepped forward, bent down, picked them up and passed them to him. He smiled sadly. "Thank you," he said.

"Uncle, I do not understand. Why are you doing this? There were easier ways to keep your oath."

"The letter yes, but not the spirit. And there are great events moving..." he put the lembas aside and looked me in the eye. "I don't understand entirely what is going on, but someone is guiding these events and it is not Morgoth. Suffice it to say that this quest and Beren are important, much more important than they seem." He passed a hand over his eyes. "I wish I could see more clearly."

"More important than your life?"

"Probably."

I said nothing, and he returned to packing. After a few minutes more, he spoke. "Beware of Celegorm and Curufin. They want the throne. I am sorry to leave you like this, but I must leave, and the quicker the better, before the rumours begin." He started to pick up a map, then put it down again. "Don't let them refight Alqualonde here in our halls."

"I don't know if I would be able to stop them."

"Don't give them a reason to fight unless you come across something worse than a kinslaying. There are many people who will still follow you, especially as the days lengthen and tempers cool. Remember Finarfin and Feanor in the days after the speech in Tirion." He pursed his lips, then spoke again. "Most of the people here are either Sindar or are among the less warlike of the Noldor. Those who followed me tended to be those who were tired of reckless acts in search of revenge or glory. It is perhaps not so surprising that they would not follow me into danger when confronted with those who played on their fears. Unfortunately, that is not true of Celegorm and Curufin's followers."

"I don't understand this!" I said. "You took them in when they were refugees, and this is how they repay us? I called them friends; I trusted them! Are you certain they really want the throne? Couldn't they just be concerned that this is madness - in all honesty I can't say I understand why you are doing this myself. I trust you, but why, uncle? Couldn't you at least try to go to them and work something out? It might yet work."

Finrod put his packages aside, and sat down on the bed. "In answer to your second question: I did that before I ever held the meeting. I suggested that they come and we retrieve the entire crown and they keep the other two Silmarils. Neither declared themselves against it, and Celegorm seemed quite interested. He insisted that if we were going to try, he wanted to be part of it. Curufin said little, but looking back I suspect he convinced Celegorm to change his mind after I left, and what we are dealing with is his idea. I felt little duplicity from Celegorm, and you know how unreadable Curufin is."

"You spoke to them beforehand?" I felt sick. This wasn't just ingratitude and overenthusiastic oath-following; this was betrayal and treason. "Why did you not mention that in the meeting?"

He winced. "I wasn't about to try springing something directly involving their oath on them. They would have been right to be angry with me if I had done that. In retrospect of course, it might have worked better. On the other hand, we might have ended up with another kinslaying. As to why I didn't mention it during the meeting... they would likely have denied it. All it would have done is drive the divisions present deeper as each chose to believe those they wished to believe. Or maybe I just didn't think of it in time." He sighed, and rubbed his forehead. "I hate overwrought crowds."

"Headache?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I have one too," I answered, only then realizing. Emotional crowds and demagogues, the empath's nightmare...

I got up and looked out the door to the anteroom where Elris was writing something. "Elris, could you possibly brew a pot of that headache tea?"

"Already done. I take it he needs some more?"

"Both of us, actually." Elris poured a couple of cups, and handed them to me. I took them in, and handed one to Finrod before seating myself in the armchair. We both drank. My headache dwindled as the tea took effect.

After a couple of minutes I asked " Why didn't you give him maps and supplies and reams of useful advice? You have forseen this quest will kill you, haven't you?"

"This is that quest, yes, although I don't know for certain that it will kill me. I will go into darkness, but that is an excellent description of Angband whether we come out again or not. As to why I do not do the minimum and let him go: this is more important than it seems. Beren has a high doom, oh, it is plain to see if you actually bother to look," he said, scowling. "Unfortunately, all people seem to be doing is seeing a rather wild mortal with shaggy hair and looking no further. Fate and the music are involved in this quest somehow, and it is not Morgoth orchestrating events - he cannot manipulate events in Doriath. For this reason, I suspect we will actually take a Silmaril, or that something else very significant will happen."

"Apart from that... we really do owe him more than token assistance. He, Barahir and the rest have given and given and held nothing back, and while we have taught them many things we have to give back on the same order as they give to us or the humans are going to lose faith in the Eldar. You cannot hold an alliance together under those conditions."

"I can see why you choose to go, given what happened when you tried to enlist the people's aid." I said slowly. "I wish it were otherwise, and I don't truly agree that something based on pure estel is worth losing our King over. I do not want to rule Nargothrond - I would not be a good ruler, especially not in times like these. Don't get yourself killed challenging certain death for no good reason, like Fingolfin."

He gazed at me without speaking, but I could tell that he would never change his mind. I sighed, and said: "Is there anything I can do to help before you go? I want you back alive after all this, if there is any hope at all."

"The greatest gift you can give me right now is knowing that I have not left a kinslaying behind me. Keep Nargothrond safe, and do not allow Celegorm and Curufin to drag the people down into darkness. I'll leave you a few contingency plans before I go; it is not as if we can leave tonight anyway. There's too much to be organized for that. We need to leave soon though, and as quietly as possible. Try to keep rumours from spreading beyond the caves until well after we leave. Apart from that... have you seen the old maps of Angband the escaped thralls made? I know they are out of date and inaccurate at best, but they are what we have. Do you know where they are?"

I shook my head. "I do not, but I could probably find out. Is there anything else you need that I could give?"

"Not really... but don't get killed yourself either. And don't trust the Feanorions!"

"After what they've done? I don't, and I doubt I ever will again." I reached out and embraced him. "I'll miss you. May the Valar defend you, and come back if you possibly can."

"If I can, I will."

I left then, and walked down the hallway, past Beren and Edrahil who were coming in the opposite direction. I suppose some of my feelings must have shown in my face, for Beren gave me a puzzled look as I walked past. I suddenly wondered if it were possible that he did not know what had happened yet. If not, he soon would. I suppose I should not hate him, what happened is not truly his fault, nor did he ever intend this, but still... it was hard to avoid wishing him in Angband's deepest hole, at least until I realized that if he were, my uncle would probably be there also. I needed to let go of my anger, or my mind would be clouded by it and I would be of no use to anyone. Maps. I could at least go and find those maps Finrod wanted.

A/N: I am using JRR Tolkien's final interpretation of Orodreth, in which he was the son of Angrod, one of Finrod's younger brothers. In this version, he has two children: Finduilas, sometimes called Faelivrin, and Gil-Galad who Tolkien can't seem to decide on a father name for. His wife is not named, but I have called her Meril because that is the name of Gil-Galad's mother the sole time that she is mentioned - although this was an early version in which she was married to Finrod, as Amarie had not yet appeared. It was erunyuave who thought the idea of using Meril's name and persona for Orodreth's wife up, so credit where credit is due.

Orodreth's character undergoes multiple changes in the various stages of Tolkein's legendarium. I advise anyone interested in the details to read the History of Middle Earth books. They are utterly fascinating to those who enjoy picky details, but probably maddening to anyone else.