Finding Lost Family by chrissystriped

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Chapter One

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Sharû stood paralysed with horror and forced his face into a blank mask. Sauron wanted them to kill the slaves. All of them! It seemed to him that every Maia present must hear his heart break. He didn’t dare to look at Mormirion, his friend, co-conspirator in easing the slaves's suffering. What would he do? He couldn’t expect their men to do this!

First he made them see that slaves weren’t worthless, not just things – if not family at least distant relations – and now they were supposed to kill them? It had been hard in the beginning, they’d been taught for too long to hate elves. Sharû had had to take drastic measures now and then. He didn’t allow slaves to be tortured, his men had learned that. And their own lives were so different under Mormirion.

Sharû knew the army, he had served on campaign. There were constant fights, often spurred on by superiors, but not in their company. They had always enough to eat, and they were eating well. Every soldier had his own bed and the weapons they were given were the best an orc could get in Angband. Sharû didn’t know how Mormirion had managed it, but his men were happy and infighting rare. Of course they fought now and then over a lost game of dice, but Sharû had made clear that he expected discipline. They knew that everyone involved would be punished when they fought. They weren’t all best friends, but they stuck together.

Some of them had been slaves, or sons of slaves. Some of them were like Sharû’s father had been and Sharû wondered sometimes how they had survived so long, he saw the pain in their eyes. With some of them, the old blood had resurfaced after generations. They came from different places, but they weren’t that different. And they cared for the slaves. All of them. When Mormirion let it be known that no one had to fear retribution for sharing rations with slaves, they had found a way to feed the slaves better.

If Mormirion tried to force them to follow Sauron’s order there would be an uprising. He felt sick and when Mormirion turned to leave he hurried to follow him. There had to be another way, anything...

“Mormirion...”

They were out of earshot and he wanted to talk to him as a friend. The Maia looked at him with hopeless eyes and shook his head.

“Not now, colonel.”

“But...”

“Assemble the men, I want to talk to them.”

Sharû sighed. “As you command, Sir.”

He was afraid. It was over, they wouldn’t be able to hold Angband, even he could see that. Why kill the slaves now? And even if there had still been a chance. He couldn’t have done it, never, not to save his own life.

 

“What about our women and children, Sir?”, Captain Mardag asked softly and Sharû froze.

He had been so glad that he didn’t have to murder slaves, that Mormirion intended to free them instead, that he hadn’t thought about the consequences losing the war would have on their people. Mormirion lifted his gaze from the map that showed the tunnel they would take if everything went according to plan, even before he said anything, Sharû knew that it was impossible.

“It is too far east. We won’t make it in time.”

Mormirion looked like it pained him as much as Sharû, he knew the Maia was right. He had made this journey often when his sister had been still alive. It had taken him two days to get there. And with an army, that had no business there, it would take at least twice as long. They didn’t have the time.

“But we have to be able to do something!”, he said anyway. “I’ll send a messenger, a volunteer, so they at least know what is heading their way.” The valley was so remote... if one didn’t know the tunnels, it would cost time to even find it. “They’ll at least have a chance to run and hide.” Since the king had left Angband, he felt like an invisible weight had lifted off his mind. Never in his long years had he thought about escape, not for himself. Now he felt as if everything was possible although his future looked so bleak. “If they go east, they might escape the Valar’s army.”

“I’ll go”, Mardag said. “And if you allow, Sir, I’ll take a few men with me. The women will need help.”

Mormirion hesitated for a moment, then he nodded. “I won’t force anyone to help me with this mad undertaking.” He looked each of the assembled captains in the eyes. “As I told you earlier, I can’t tell you what waits for you at the end of that tunnel. If you’d rather try to escape with your women, it is your right. Just tell me, how many will leave and I’ll write you a commission so you won’t be taken as deserters. Ask your men, let them decide.”

“I’ll follow you, Sir”, Sharû said.

Mormirion had always been loyal to him and his men, he wouldn’t leave him now. He would help him free the slaves. Mormirion smiled at him.

“Thank you, Sharû.”

 

~*~*~

 

Ecthelion stepped into the council tent, they were barely two days in the camp and there were a lot of things to talk about with the king and Aule had promised to be there, too. They already waited for him and Ecthelion bowed to his king and the Vala and accepted the glass of wine a servant offered him.

“Thank you”, he said softly and the servant smiled at him.

In the past he wouldn’t have noticed him, would have seen it as natural that someone was offering him something to drink – but that had been before.

“Please, take a seat”, Finarfin motioned to a chair and Ecthelion sat down. “We are waiting for Gil-galad”, Finarfin said. “He’ll represent the Noldor in Exile.”

Ecthelion nodded slowly. He had never met Fingon’s son, but he supposed he was next in line for kingship. (Would have been? Now that they were pardoned and Finarfin was here.)

“What about Feanor’s sons. Do we know where they are?”

A cloud passed over both Finarfin’s and Aule’s faces. Aule sat too.

“Only Maedhros and Maglor are still alive. Eonwe is searching for them. Ecthelion, how much do you know about what happened after the fall of Gondolin?”

“I heard what they did to Doriath, if that is, what you are asking about. And”, although tent canvas was above his head, Ecthelion lifted his eyes up, “the new Star was bright enough to even tear through the clouds above Angband. Is it really the Silmaril? Though how that came to be, none of us could tell.”

Finarfin grimaced. “I fear, my nephews murdered a third time. Elwing, daughter of Dior, escaped with the Silmaril to the survivors of Gondolin at the Mouths of Sirion. She met Earendil there and they married. But my nephews still wanted the Silmaril back. They attacked when Earendil was at sea, searching for a way to Aman, it was a massacre. But Elwing escaped again, turning into a bird – some say Ulmo did it.” Finarfin looked at Aule for confirmation.

“I don’t know”, the Vala answered. “Maybe she did it herself, her great-grandmother was Melian. Anyway, she found Earendil and the Silmaril brought them through our enchantments and Earendil asked for mercy on behalf of both Elves and Men. And now we are here and Earendil sails the skies with the Silmaril.”

“They had two sons, twins”, Finarfin said softly. “They weren’t among the dead, so maybe Maedhros and Maglor took them, but we don’t know for sure.”

Ecthelion didn’t know what to say. Not just about the horrible things Feanor’s sons had done. The boy, he had taught to play the flute, was a star now? He looked up when Gil-galad entered the tent.

“Please excuse my lateness”, he said and Ecthelion gulped, his eyes misty. Fingolfin’s whole family looked very alike and Gil-galad wasn’t an exception.

Ecthelion remembered so well how he had seen Turgon for the last time, in the middle of his burning city, refusing to leave it. He had lost so many friends that day – and in a way his life, too. The young king looked curiously at him and Finarfin introduced them. Ecthelion had to give credit to Gil-galad for not showing a reaction to his burns. Most people stared at seeing him for the first time.

Ecthelion didn’t know how bad it was, he hadn’t seen himself in a mirror yet and he wasn’t sure if he wanted. He knew that it was bad, but to know it and to see it, were two different things and he had been very proud of his looks once.

“You represent the former slaves and the orcs?”

Ecthelion nodded. “Sharû, their colonel, would surely like to speak for himself, but considering the circumstances... Yes, I represent them too.”

“Why?”, Gil-galad asked. “They are orcs. Enemies.”

“Fallen brothers.” Ecthelion sighed. “I know how much hatred is between us – the elves and the orcs, that is. I don’t think it will be easy to overcome that but what is the alternative? Do you want to murder them in cold blood? And it would be murder. They surrendered of their own free will and without a fight. We treat prisoners decently. Otherwise we aren’t better than the enemy.”

That made them fall silent for a moment, finally Finarfin said: “Ecthelion, how are... the former slaves?”

“As good as can be expected under the circumstances.” Ecthelion smiled wryly. “We’ve slept in worse places.”

“I hope you know that you can expect any help you wish from me.”

“Thank you, my king. What we need most is decent clothes.”

He had been given clothing that befitted his rank – and the heavy brocade felt strange after such a long time wearing rags –, but he knew that he received preferential treatment because of this rank.

“Most of us walked around in rags.” Or nothing at all.

Aule looked surprised at him. “You wore armour when you came here.”

Ecthelion nodded. “Yes. Because Mormirion opened the armoury to us. Usually our masters didn’t much care what we wore.”

Ecthelion needed a moment to understand why they stared at him so appalled.

“I had to come to terms with that life”, he said and carefully kept any emotion out of his voice. “It wasn’t easy for someone as proud as me. And it is not enough to pretend and think something else, that invites mistakes. Yes, I call them my former masters, because they were. I had to look at it that way to survive.”

The others looked embarrassed and Ecthelion sighed. They didn’t understand. Coming back would be harder than he had thought.

“Herunya”, he turned to Aule because something else was weighing on his soul. “I know Mormirion incurred a lot of guilt, but he saved many of my people’s lives and my own, too. This”, he took a scroll from his bag, “is a list of signatures. We all want to advocate for Mormirion being treated with clemency.”

He had walked from tent to tent yesterday and noted down where his people had found accommodation. He had asked them to sign his appeal.

Mormirion had been afraid when Aule’s Maia had come to take him, Ecthelion had seen it. He knew that Mormirion deserved a punishment, but he didn’t want the Valar to treat him like Morgoth’s other servants because they didn’t know he had been different. Asea Mahan. There hadn’t been many who hadn’t wanted to sign it. Aule stared at him in surprise.

“We’ll see”, he finally said and took the scroll. “I’ll take your opinion under consideration.”

Ecthelion bowed. “That’s all I wanted to achieve with this, herunya. Thank you.”

They turned back to questions of accommodation and rations. Ecthelion soon realised that they didn’t know what to call them and decided to talk with his people about it. He didn’t want to be called a ‘former slave’ for the rest of his life.