The Line of Kings by Michiru

Things Fall Apart

After receiving stewardship of Nargothrond, Orodreth must confront a bitter truth: Nargothrond is no longer safe for the scions of Finarfin.

First Age Year 465

"I wish I could advise you otherwise," Celebrimbor said heavily from where he was slumped, limbs akimbo, across from him. His eyes had dulled to pale imitations of their sharp grey, and were fixed unseeing at his elbow, as though he could not bear to meet Orodreth's eyes, but Orodreth could muster little sympathy for the Fëanorion. Not when Finduilas sat at his left, crying silently, when only will was keeping Laegalad's tears restrained. When he himself wanted to beat the flagstones until his fists were bloody and scream his throat raw. "I should like to believe the boy to be safe, but…"

"But nothing prevents your kin from sending him the way of Finrod," Orodreth finished when Celebrimbor could not. "How did it go? 'Neither law nor love'?" Celebrimbor flinched, but made no defense.

"Even so," he muttered instead. "And while the Oath is aroused I must agree that it would be best to send at least Gil-galad away."

"Best," Laegalad bit out icily, "would be to send the Himladhrim away. It is a poor measure of wisdom to divide a young child from his parents."

"The Himladhrim are not responsible, Lady," Celebrimbor murmured, rubbing his eyes. "Do not forget that Aratyaro accompanies the King on his errand." He sighed, almost sobbed, and added, "The blame lies solely on the house of Fëanor."

"Your house," Laegalad corrected viciously. "Your uncle and your father."

"Indeed."

"The sons of Fëanor have a great following among the people in any case," Orodreth interjected, as Laegalad looked in no mood to cease tormenting his cousin. "They forsook Finrod in their favor; they would sooner expel me themselves than hear talk of banishing them."

"So you will instead orphan our son among strangers," Laegalad concluded bitterly, some of her iron self-control slipping in the tremble of her lips.

"He need not lose both parents," Celebrimbor said, lifting his head for the first time, the small motion seeming to exhaust him. Orodreth felt his heart, already heavy, pang at what it knew was to come.

"And which of us do you propose to exile?" Laegalad snarled, laying flat her hands on the table. More than his posture, that Celebrimbor answered her attested to his distracted state of mind.

"Orodreth has a duty to Nargothrond—"

"My husband has a duty to his family!" Laegalad cried, standing so suddenly that her chair was turned over. "To his wife and the children he begot!" Finduilas shuddered and dropped her face in her arms on the table, her back heaving with silent sobs. "Do not tell me that I have the greater duty to our children, nor that this pit of vipers deserves more of my husband's care than his own flesh and blood!

"And you—" she whirled on him, face contorting as she sought to rein in her emotions. Orodreth raised his hands over his head, pleading for a reprieve. Laegalad fell silent, but her jaw continued to twitch, her hands curled into fists. He tried in vain to gather his scattered thoughts, put them in order.

"Had my uncle entrusted his kingdom to anyone else, we would all four of us be long gone from here, with any who would follow." The scene flashed again before his eyes; Finrod's stricken expression as Celegorm and Curufin usurped centuries of authority with a hundred words. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to blot out the dismal image.

"As it is, he left before I could voice any misgivings, and I would not now betray his confidence." Not when the whole of his kingdom had done so, not when it would leave Nargothrond's crown to the Fëanorians. "What can I do?" he pleaded. "I lose my son to safety or I risk losing him to the Oath of Fëanor. The one need not be permanent; the other may not come to pass." He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to rub off his exhaustion as he did so. He reached out to Laegalad, only for her to jerk beyond his reach, her lip half-curled in what could not possibly be revulsion. He dropped his hand with a dull twinge to the table.

"Whether you go or stay will be up to the wisdom of your own counsel," he whispered, unable to raise his voice over the pain in his throat. "I have not the strength of will to send you away from me, not even for Gil-galad. Nor the right." Laegalad stared into his eyes for a moment more, and for those bare seconds her expression recalled the tender days of their youth. Then, in a violent motion, she flung her wedding band to the table, where it landed next to Finrod's abandoned crown. His heart, still beating feebly, stopped, and his eyes went dark.

"Choose now," she whispered in the blackness that was his world. "See, these are the things you debate between, laid before you, all pretenses swept aside. Choose now. Which will you keep?"

Chapter End Notes

The Silmarillion and later versions of the legendarium agree that Gil-galad was sent to the Havens more or less immediately after the Dagor Bragollach. I've tweaked that a bit, given that my timeline puts Gil-galad at only months old by the end of the battle. Having just got their very young son to the safety of Nargothrond, I can't see Orodreth and Laegalad wanting to send him back out into danger to reach the Havens without some internal threat. Thus, I have Gil-galad living in Nargothrond until the deposal of Finrod by Celegorm and Curufin, when Nargothrond is proven to have no defense against the Oath of Fëanor or the Doom of the Noldor.