Darkened by reindeer_pizza

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Chapter Two

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So Eöl came to live amongst the dwarves. While they were distrustful of him at first, it was more to do with the fact he was an elf than the fact he had spent time in Angband. Yet slowly, trust was earned. His skill with smithcraft and Singing to metal and stone went a long way towards establishing his place amongst them. He was also taught Khuzdul, though this was partially out of practicality, as while Sindarin did have words for various metals and stone, true Dwarven smithcraft could only be properly spoken about in their own tongue. But he did not return the favor with his own tongue. The fragments of memories that remained to him were precious, and sharing them with others felt too intimate.

He was cleaning his personal forge when Rin, the first dwarf who spoke with him, popped in.

This forge, too, was the result of practicality. None of the dwarves had private forges, instead working together and sharing tools and materials easily. However, the difference in height and strength between Eöl and the dwarves made such working conditions less than ideal.

“Eöl, do you have a moment?” she asked.

He nodded and set down the rag he was using to wipe down his workbench. “Did you need something?”

She stepped inside. “How would you feel about joining my brother’s merchant caravan?”

“Why? I’m hardly a merchant. Can’t be for muscle, you’ve all made it clear I don’t hold a candle to the hardy stature of the dwarves,” he said. His voice was low and almost monotone, but Rin could hear the subtle teasing note hidden deep within.

“It is indeed a shame you were born an elf and not a dwarf. You’d be beating away the ladies with a stick,” Rin said. “But it’s an elf Nin needs. He’s hoping that if he brings an elf, the elves he’s trying to sell to may be more receptive.”

“He wants me to be shop decor?” Eöl asked. “Standing around and looking pretty isn’t one of my strong suits.”

Though the physical torments of Angband had begun to heal, there were things that even time could not erase. He was covered in marks of his torture, his skin would always be a pale gray, and his fangs and claws were sharper than that found on any other Avari. The last fight he had been in, the one that had won him his freedom, had left him with large scars on his face that pulled his upper lip into a permanent snarl. Yet his white hair had grown long and healthy again, and he wore in dwarven braids, and some of the scars had begun to fade. He even got new tattoos to show his mastery of dwarven smithing, the fresh ink mingling with his old skeltekta.

“That’s what I said, but he’s convinced. Are you going to humor him, or should I break his poor little heart?” Rin asked.

Eöl sighed. “When is he leaving and where are we going?”

Rin beamed at him. “In two cycles, you’ll be heading to Menegroth.”

~*~

He knew of Menegroth, though he had never been there before. He was familiar with dwarven architecture and thought that the city would be built along similar lines, given that the dwarves had aided in its construction. However, he was surprised at how un-dwarvish it was. If he hadn’t known better, he could almost have believed he was out in the woods. The pillars had been carved to resemble trees, and there were whole gardens full of flowers both living and carved from gems. The sounds of water splashing in fountains provided accompaniment for the nightingales as they sang. Even the cavern ceiling high above had been crafted to resemble the sky, with small lanterns and more gems in the place of stars (perfectly matching to the placement of the real things at midsummer).

Alas, for as beautiful as the city was, its people were not. Physically, yes, they were lovely, as all elves are. But the stares and the whispers Eöl could feel pressing down on him marred their beauty in his eyes. He refused to be cowed by them. He had nothing to be ashamed of, for what shame was there in survival? No, he had not come through his trials unchanged, but he doubted any of the gawkers could have done better than him in the pits of Angband.

He helped Nin and his merchants set up in Menegroth’s marketplace. He was mostly there as window dressing, but he was able to answer some of the questions prospective customers had. Nin’s plan did seem to be working, as many elves came to their stall, though Eöl wasn’t sure if the heightened interest was translating to heightened sales. Thankfully, the market stall wasn’t the main point of the excursion (that was the delivery of commissions and wholesale goods to several of the city’s guilds), but merely a way to earn some extra coin.

He had just finished explaining to some young ladies that, no, the daggers weren’t just decorative and yes, they were sharp, when he felt a familiar pressure against his mind.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Not here.

How had the spirit found him? How had it gotten in? He wouldn’t go back.

He wouldn’t. Go. Back.

He turned his mind to the presence. He took every ounce of his rage and pain and loss and honed it into a mental javelin. He took aim and hurled it with all his might at the invading force.

He heard a gasp of air as he felt the presence shudder from the blow. His ears flicked towards the sound. He turned to face his foe, snarl on his lips.

It was not his former tormentor.

This spirit was cloaked in the flesh of a tall elven woman, dressed in a luxuriously embroidered green dress with sleeves that almost touched the ground. Every movement made the scenes stitched into the fabric shift and dance, as if they were alive and not mere threads. Her midnight hair was held back from her face by a crown of jeweled flowers, and more gems had been braided into the long tresses. She had a hand pressed to her heart, but her expression was one of confusion, not pain. He had never met her, but could easily guess who she was.

He had attacked the queen of Doriath.

The young male elf serving as her escort fluttered around her, concerned about his queen’s sudden pause. She gently waved off his concern and looked directly at Eöl. He stared back, golden eyes unblinking.

She glided towards his stall. Nin bowed.

“Your majesty, you honor us with your presence,” he said.

She gave him a smile and nodded her head. “It is always a pleasure to see what new delights the children of Mahal have brought to our halls.” She turned to Eöl. “I believe I owe you an apology. I did not mean to cause you any distress.”

This was unexpected. “My dealings with your kind have not been pleasant, my lady,” he said, not sure how else to respond.

“I can see that,” she said in a voice heavy with sorrow. “Truly, I only meant to glean some information about the newcomer to my city. Most are unaware of my presence. I would not have harmed you.”

“Entering someone’s mind without permission is harm, whether they are aware of the violation or not,” Eöl said. Nin not so subtly elbowed him, trying to warn him about being rude to the queen.

“Such is the price paid for safety,” she said. “Keeping out the dangers of the world has a cost.”

“You could have done as your subjects seem content to, and judged me by my appearance,” Eöl replied. He could feel Nin’s frustrations rising. He knew he should stop antagonizing the queen. He knew what it was to anger a spirit in their own domain. But perhaps that was why he wasn’t backing down.

“Appearances can be deceiving. Had I judged by your face, I would not have known of your skills with magic,” she said.

“Magic?” he tilted his head. “I am no sorcerer nor spirit. What are you talking about?”

“Perhaps skill was the wrong word. Potential. Like I said, most would not have been aware of my presence. You not only felt me, you were able to retaliate, crude as your attack was. If I had to hazard a guess, this potential is also what served you and saved you while my kin imprisoned you.”

He did not question that she knew of his time in Angband. Anyone who looked at him would know of his past.

“Your kin?” he asked. “You still claim them then, despite what they have done?”

“Do you still claim the darkened ones?” she asked in turn.

He looked away.

She took mercy on him and changed the subject. “I would like to help you harness your potential. Stay in Menegroth and become my student.”

“Your offer is generous, my lady,” he began, “However, I must decline. My freedom was hard won. It would be foolish of me to willingly walk back into a cage.”

“I would not trap you here. No one is forced to stay in Doriath. They remain because this is their home. This is where they and their families can stay safe,” she replied.

“It is a lovely home, but it is not my home. Nor do I think it ever will be,” he said. “Once again, thank you for your offer. My answer is still no.”

She smiled. “That is quite alright. My offer will stand, should you ever change your mind.” She swept away, her attendant following in her wake.

“Did you have to offend the queen?” Nin hissed. “We’re lucky she didn’t just tell us to leave!”

Eöl shrugged. “You’re the one who insisted on bringing me. I told Rin this was a bad idea.”

~*~

Queen Melian did not kick them out of Doriath, despite Nin’s fears (and complaining). They concluded their business and returned to their mountains, carts lighter and pockets heavier. Eöl resumed his typical role in the community, that of smith instead of shopkeep.

Yet the queen’s words were never far from his mind.

While he was in the forge, keeping his hands busy with good, honest work, it was easy to dismiss her. He was no mage, and what little power he did have was found in the skill of his craft. A well-forged blade, beautifully repaired armor, this was magic enough for him. When he would crawl into bed with nothing to distract him, however, his thoughts had a different turn.

The dwarves had been good to him, though they had no reason for it. He could never repay them, no matter how hard he worked. Should they choose to rescind their kindness, he would be back out in the world, alone and vulnerable. Even if he wasn’t alone, numbers were no guarantee of safety. His people had been many, and they had been destroyed just the same. The dwarves were hidden in their halls of stone, but the Sindar had both a beautiful fortress and a powerful spirit to protect them.

He knew what was to be at the Enemy’s non-existent mercy. He would rather die than be held prisoner again.

He stayed with the dwarves for a few more years, trying to deny the appeal of gaining more strength to be better equipped to protect himself from the dark forces of the world. In the end, though, he knew he had already decided.

He accompanied Nin’s caravan to Doriath once again. Nin was starting to move slower, and his beard, once a deep black, was shot through with silver. This too was another reason for him to leave. He wouldn’t have to watch anyone else he cared for die. They could live on as they had always been in his memories, untainted by time and disease.

Queen Melian was unsurprised by his return. She smiled at him when he spoke about her offer, and welcomed him to Doriath as her student.