Many Journeys by Elleth

The Willow and the Shade

What ever became of Daeron? (Double Drabble.)

Ossiriand sang of Lúthien’s grace, and finding her, Daeron remained as silent-steadfast protector until a sigh rose from the land itself one end of summer. More than the beginning of leaf-fall, the land mourned her and Beren’s passing.

Daeron sent a Laegren guard to her son with the Silmaril, buried her, and let it break him.

Then he fled eastward, deep into the forests beyond the Blue Mountains, leaving behind, step by step, himself. His hand no longer shielded his eyes from the sun at noon. His flute, in one mad laughing-mood, slipped through his fingers and lay in a tangle of briars. They snatched at air, not skin, when he attempted, and failed, to retrieve it.

But oh, he could still sing.

Long ago, as Thingol’s loremaster, a tale had come to him from the North, of secrets confessed to trees and earth, forever to be hidden.

And did he not love her? And hate her?

The Silver Willows where he strayed reminded him of the colour of Lúthien’s hair at last. And sitting underneath the largest, oldest tree, he began to sing until the leaves shuddered, awakening to song and malice, and invited him to make his home.

Chapter End Notes

Written for thesifsterhood on tumblr.

(And yes, I am indeed implying that Daeron is the spirit behind the malice of Old Man Willow.)