One Flesh, One Soul. Part I by FellFireFan

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Chapter 1

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In the celestial expanse, two stars merged as one, entwined in darkness. A star of such brilliance outshone all others in the vastness of silent space. It broke into two separate pieces. Dancing across the sky in an eternal bliss, casting them to the earthly plain below, forging the hearts of soulmates destined to be apart until the day fate would bring them together, to make them whole again. A reunion of soulmates, whose fates entwined, destined to never be apart.

 

Angband 

455 A.D

 

    Amidst the engulfing flames that devoured the fallen and stained the grass with blood, the stars, cast their dwindling light upon the valiant souls lost in the violent tempest, bore witness to the aftermath of the harrowing battle. The echoes of the orcs' terrifying war chant, Balrogs' thunderous roars overshadowed the haunting cries of dying elves in the distance, Aegnor lay motionless. Depleted of strength, he calmly awaited his end. A noble elven prince was he, a mighty warrior, a tall stock cut down, he awaited his grim fate. A chilling calmness enveloped him, bereft of fear, void of anger and pain. He felt not but numb, empty, and silent.

    The fading warmth of life leaves his feeble, broken body, once a bastion of unwavering might. Gasping for his final breaths, his weary eyes fixed upon the stars that now shone brighter than ever, tears welled up and trickled down his worn cheeks. Amidst the endless, black expanse, he beheld in his eyes a vision twinkling in stars.  A face appeared to him like a bittersweet dream— frozen in a memory most beloved to him. Her form sparkled before him, drawing closer as the stars adorned the black tresses of her flowing celestial locks as black as the night without stars. Slowly, the once mighty elf reached upward into the vast expanse. Reaching out his hand to the vision of the maiden he was forced to abandon.

    He could think of nothing but her, how he had failed her, in every possible way. Summoning the last vestiges of his strength, he could scarce muster a single quiet whisper. A name that would carry his heavy regrets and the love in his heart for the maiden who his feä forever and would always pine for.

"Andreth..." 

 

○○○

 Maedhros' Pass

 355 A.D

(One hundred years earlier)

 

   The elves valiantly held their ground against the ceaseless onslaught of orcs, their blades cutting through the enemy ranks with unwavering determination. Amidst the chaos, a towering figure emerged, distinguished by long, copper hair tightly braided down his back. With every move, he exuded a combination of grace and precision, effortlessly dispatching the orcs that crossed his path. Fearlessly, this remarkable elf issued a challenge to the hulking orc commander, a duel that would determine the fate of their encounter. The orc, snarling with a ferocity akin to a wild beast, revealed his black, wet gums and menacing yellow teeth. 

    Yet, Maedhros stood firm, unyielding to the intimidating display before him. The deep scar etched upon the side of his handsome face bore witness to the harrowing trials he had endured, further fuelling his indomitable spirit. As the orc and elf clashed, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze.  Yellow orbs met piercing grey as their swords collided in a symphony of violence. The orc sought to overpower Maedhros with sheer brute force, but the tall elf proved elusive, his movements a dance of both strength and beauty. Despite the handicap of fighting with only one hand, Maedhros showcased mastery over the sword, his every strike precise and deadly.

  In an act of brute force, the orc tripped Maedhros and seized him by the throat, squeezing with all his might. Maedhros, his teeth clenched, writhed and struggled, but he couldn't break free from the orc's vice-like grip. Just as hope began to fade, the sound of a distant horn echoed through the trees. The orcs abruptly ceased their fighting, and the commander's eyes darted around, filled with fear. He turned his gaze to his captive, and Maedhros flashed the orc a wicked, toothy grin, confirming the arrival of the orc's worst fear.

    Movement stirred in the trees, and a multitude of elves burst forth from the dark depths, joined by a small band of men. Riding fiercely at the forefront were Angrod and Aegnor, the sons of Finarfin. Their radiant hair, a trademark of their noble house, flowed behind them like a vibrant river of sunlight. The orc released Maedhros, retreating slowly in the face of the approaching wall of horses.

   The orc released Maedhros, retreating slowly in the face of the approaching wall of horses. With unstoppable might, the cavalry thundered past Maedhros, who taunted the fleeing orcs with laughter. Leading the charge, a golden-maned elf, swifter than the rest, leapt from his horse and dived recklessly into the chaotic melee of terrified orcs.            His weapons unsheathed, he was undoubtedly the catalyst for their frenzied retreat. Like an unstoppable force, he tore through their ranks, leaving trails of black blood and piles of limbs and corpses in his wake.

    Not a single strand of his radiant locks could impede his ferocious gaze, his eyes burned with a dragon's ire, two flaming beacons in the darkness, the sight of such terrifying eyes caused the orcs to flee.

   Together, the brothers flanked the orcs, engaging in a brutal and bloody massacre. The odds swiftly turned in Maedhros' favour with the aid of his cousins, who sliced through the enemy ranks with unnatural precision, sparing none. Suddenly, the battle was over, and all drew to a silent calm. As the grim task of checking and counting the fallen bodies was underway, Maedhros approached Angrod, his kinsman.

  "Angrod!" Maedhros called, his voice strong and deep. "I knew you would come to my aid!" 

   Clasping arms with his half cousin, Angrod smiled victoriously. "Atleast orcs are good for one thing only! They never learn from their mistakes!" 

  A short distance away, Aegnor glided through the grim sea of bodies and severed orc limbs.  The carnage and brutality of the brothers work notable. His tall, muscular form cast a long shadow over the distorted faces of the orcs, frozen in terror. He counted his prizes like gruesome trophies.

   "Lord Aegnor!" A sudden, deep voice called out. Aegnor turned around to see the mortal Boromir, son of Boron, the fourth cheiften of the house of Beör, the lord of Ladros, striding toward him with a purposeful step.

   "I have never witnessed such a devastating onslaught! It came dangerously close to Ladros," Boromir remarked, his voice filled with concern. Aegnor paused for a moment before speaking solemnly.

   "The howls from Angband grow louder with each passing day, and the orcs grow stronger. I fear the princes have become complacent. I will consult with the king regarding these findings," Aegnor replied calmly, his gaze drifting off into deep thought.  The low sun rise cast upon his elven visage showing off a glistening set of silver ear peircings that decorated the rim of his pointed ears. 

  "Aegnor, I have a family to protect, and my people to safeguard... I fear... is Dorthonion safe?" 

   Aegnor looked at him with sincerity. His eyes, once fierce with anger, now radiated a different kind of brilliance, calm, striking, and utterly beautiful. Aegnor flashed a reassuring smile and firmly placed his hand on Boromir's shoulder.  "Dorthonion is safe, Boromir, and it shall remain so as long as Angrod and I are here to defend it," he responded warmly.

Boromir's smile grew, finding solace in Aegnor's comforting words. A brief moment of affection passed between the elf and the man until Aegnor's attention was abruptly captured by movement within the fallen orcs. He quickly dismissed him and approached the crawling body of the fallen orc commander who, upon seeing him, hastened his efforts to escape. Grasping its greasy black hair, he violently yanked the orc up onto its knees. The orc's desperate screeches fell on deaf ears as Aegnor swiftly drew his blade and slashed its throat from ear to ear. The screeching immediately ceased, and he slammed the limp orc's body to the ground with a resounding thud.

  "Boromir!" Aegnor called out, turning back to him, walking away. "May I convey my heartfelt compliments on the new birth of your son! May he be blessed!"

  "A son has already been born to me, my lord!" Boromir yelled out in response, smiling proudly. "I welcome now a daughter!" 

   "The sun and stars shine upon your precious daughter!" He chirped, bowing. Before turning on his heels and strutting away to join his brother in the distance. 

 

 ○○○

Dorthonion 

(Six weeks later)

 

    Seated in solitude, Aegnor found himself fully immersed in the blanket he was crafting, his hands deftly weaving intricate patterns. Although weeks had passed since the triumph at Maedhros Pass, the weight of Boromir's words lingered in his mind, refusing to fade away. In Valinor, this time would have marked the festival of gifts, a cherished tradition where Noldorin parents, particularly mothers, would painstakingly create special presents for their children. Aegnor treasured every precious moment he had to fashion an object of extraordinary beauty. Comfortably nestled on plush cushions, his back supported by the wall beside a grand marble fireplace, he basked in the soft glow that accentuated his resplendent elven features.

   One long, sinewy leg crossed nonchalantly over the other, meticulously embroidering delicate flowers and graceful doves onto a blanket made of pale lavender and white fabric known for its exceptional softness, beloved by elven mothers. The addition of tiny, shimmering beads transformed the blanket into a masterpiece, destined to bring boundless joy to any fortunate young girl who would receive it. With nimble fingers, he skilfully wove the glistening silver thread through the intricate beading. His voluminous, tangled blonde hair cascaded freely, partially veiling his beautiful face and flowing down his shoulders and back.

    ("The king has called a meeting of the Princes of the realms,") Angrod's deep, rich voice broke the tranquillity, emerging from the shadows, interrupting Aegnor's much relished peace time. He plopped down beside him. Drawing his parted knees up and resting his arms on his knees, Angrod sighed defeatedly, the elvish words flowed effortlessly from his lips, sending rich echoes into the hall. ("I fear Morgoth has him worried,")

   Clad in comfortable silk dress robes of matching style. Angrod's a deep blue and silver, pulled tight and neat around his resplendent form, while Aegnor's wrapped loose and open, exposing the glistening skin of his chest beneath, draped in a vibrant red and gold. Aegnor, who hadn't bothered to even lift his head, continued his delicate work. Angrod's eyes shifted to his brother, who had not bid him even a nod of acknowledgement. His focus shifted to the creation in his lap. He watched as Aegnor's fingers moved delicately over the blanket, weaving and threading with intense focus. Curious, he asked who the intended recipient was.

    ("It is for Lord Boromir and his wife, a gift to commemorate the arrival of their precious burden,") Aegnor replied steadily, his elvish words danced in the air with a melodious quality. ("Although they focus solely on the birth of a child and not the act of begetting it, which in itself is a curious novelty,") he answered

  ("Ahh...the festival of gifts! I had almost forgotten. Many of us have suffered great change since we left the fair havens for this land. But Aegnor, The Defender of Tradition! The true champion of the Noldor!") Angrod teased, his amused smirk widening. 

  ("What joy lies in the burdens that weigh upon those who have not tasted the delights of childhood. A time that should be spent in happiness, surrounded by those who dote upon you, lavishing you with love and gift!") Aegnor replied. His gaze soft as he weaved the thread into his creation

  ("Like you have?")

  Aegnor slowly plucked the glistening silver pendant that hung around his bare chest through an opening in his loose clothes. He brought it to his plump lips and tenderly kissed its warm surface. With a saddened look in his eyes, he released its brilliance upon his flesh once more. There was a momentary pause and changing the topic, Aegnor inquired if Angrod was crafting something for his own son Orodreth, and Angrods' response came in a playful scoff.     

   ("Should Orodreth be engulfed in the crashing tides of a furious river, and his sole means of deliverance rested in my tender embrace, he would not soon opt for the latter,") He laughed

   ("Who am I to cast blame?") Aegnor replied candidly. ("For should such a challenge ever be presented to me, to be embraced by my own brothers tender arms or face the onslaught of a raging, frigid lake, rest assured my dear Angrod, I would be the first to jump!") 

   Laughter burst from Angrod. His mouth stretched into an alluring grin, Aegnor revealed a row of glistening white teeth dazzling between a pair of captivating lips. His smile slowly waned and his eyes returned to his craft once again. With an absentminded gaze, The soft tip of Aegnor's tongue glided over the curves of his full, plump lips. Slowly moistening their surface

  ("It is unusual for us to craft such an intimate treasure, Aegnor. Are such offerings not reserved for our own offspring?")

   ("This is true, brother. However, Boromir has been a trusted friend to me for many years. And, he is a good-hearted man, I have come to greatly esteem him. I can partake in this joy through him when I have no children of my own.") Aegnor replied. 

   ("Why have you not yet taken a wife from any of the daughters of the Sindar Kings, Aegnor? All sighed after you when last we made stay in each realm. Yet you would not grant even one a moment of your affection, more beautiful they were than all the jewels in Valinor!")

   ("Not beautiful enough,") Aegnor murmured and sighed. ("A beautiful face may please the eye, but a fiery spark and a bold, unapologetic spirit excite the mind. What I seek in a wife, an eld maid has yet to show themselves.")

   ("Am I to understand that you find beauty and meekness unappealing in a wife?") Angrod smirked

   ("Of course I don't!") Aegnor replied ("only if it is all that I find in her. Oh, but for a spirit... wild and untamed! One who is unafraid to challenge the wind's unyielding might with me, that! That is what I greatly admire in a maiden.") His grin widened. ("Alas, it seems that a Sindarin princess is much to fair for such qualities to possess,")

  Angrod cast him a withering look. ("Forgive me, my brother, but perhaps supreme beauty and gentle nature is the barest pickings that one must settle for,") he muttered sarcastically. Aegnor stopped weaving, his gaze hardening.

   ("If you have words to say, then say them! Otherwise, keep your never restful, ever meddling, overused tongue behind your teeth! Now take your leave from me! I wish to be alone!") Aegnor grumbled 

  ("Hah! A revelation! Aegnor wishes to be alone!") Angrod taunted. Aegnor tensed his lips and pressed them together with restrained rage as his eyes darted back at him. His furrowed brow challenging Angrod's glare. ("Wallowing in the loathing you hold for yourself does not aid you! Per chance, that is the reason you are so utterly miserable, Aegnor! It is unbecoming of you!" He barked

  ("Are you still speaking!?") Aegnor snapped,

  ("Does it not vex you that I have long achieved what you have not? That my marriage to Eldalótë has given me what you desperately seek to hold?") Angrod retorted,

  ("What do you know of my desires?") Aegnor sneered, his jaw tensing. ("You cast scorn upon every choice I have wrought! Each time I strive to act of mine own, it is with the weight of your endless prattle upon my shoulders!  You believe yourself to be well-acquainted with my soul, yet your vision is so narrow that you can not see not beyond the bridge of your own nose! Know this: you understand nothing of my true desires!")

  “I know it well! It is as clear to me as the stars above, and it lies heavy upon your very lap!” Angrod shouted, his finger accusingly directed at the child's blanket. Aegnor, filled with fervour, seized the exquisite fabric in his lap and cast it across the chamber.

  (“Begone, you treacherous cloth! Go forth and cease to torment my brother with your sweet, guileless design!”) he bellowed into the shadows after the flung item. (“Are you satisfied now!?”) he roared, turning his gaze back to Angrod, their elvish voices clashing like swords.

  (“There is no need for such dramatic displays, Aegnor!”) Angrod countered, his tone sharp.

  (“By Illuvatar, one would think the very heavens would tremble if I dared to draw a breath!”) Aegnor cried, anger surging through him.

 (“Very well, Aegnor, you have won!”) Angrod conceded, his gesture of defeat marked by an exasperated wave. (“But take heed; your bitterness shall be your undoing!”)

  (“I am not bitter!”) Aegnor snarled, his bright teeth bared in fury.

  (“Oh, but you are! You would not even attend our sister's wedding in Doriath!”)

  (“Shut up!”) Aegnor roared, the force of his rage propelling him to his feet. His coiled hair whipped around him as he spun. ("I shall not be chided as a wayward child! Not by Felagund, and certainly not by you! Now, if you will excuse me, I shall seek a vessel of wine to drown the sorrows of your company and the vexation of your irritating voice!") With that, Aegnor stormed from the room, the echoes of his footsteps haunting the stone floor.

  (“Tread carefully, little brother!”) Angrod called after his shrinking form. (“Lest you choke upon the vessel you imbibe from with your misery still intact!")

 

 ○○○

HITHRIM

358 A.D

 

  In the grand palace of Fingolfin, the High King and the princes of the Noldor assembled for a crucial meeting. The purpose was to discuss the escalating threat of Morgoth and assess his growing power in Angband. Placed in a circle, some seated while others stood as Fingolfin called Angrod into the centre. Entrusted with the task of commanding the siege, he presented to the king an extensive and insightful report on Morgoth's forces and recent developments within their realm.

 "These are troubling tidings indeed," Fingolfin's countenance was marked with deep concern, "I fear that Morgoth's power has grown stronger than ever before,"

    Aegnor, perceptive as ever, noticed the rhythmic tapping of the king's fingers, a tell tale sign of his profound worry. Aegnor's head bowed, his eyes filled with matching concern, mirroring the weight that burdened the king's heart.

  "Even now, we cannot afford to rest upon our laurels of victory. It may be time to confront him once more and end this tyranny that threatens all our realms," Fingolfin continued, his voice resolute. "To whom can I turn for support in this perilous undertaking?"

   The room circled with large lamps of fire fell into a hushed silence with only the gentle roar of flame filling its corners, every elven prince absorbed in contemplation.

  "I stand with the king," Angrod declared, turning to the princes seated around

  "We possess the strength to prevail against him. His power is growing, but it is still greatly weak. We can not allow our forces to dwindle while he gathers his malevolent might."

  "Have you learned nothing since we departed from fair Valinor?" A gravelly, coarse voice answered him, unmistakably Caranthir's. Slowly, he rose, his tall and slender frame, adorned in garments of black velvet, slithering across the room and into the spacious centre of the circle. "Morgoth is locked away in Angband, and at last, we may draw a breath of relief, and you yearn for us to cease not our strife? There is no threat that lingers still," he sneered.

  "Suppose we were to persist, and in so doing, forfeit our own lives. What then of our beloved fathers' silmarils, and the oath we swore to uphold?" Celegorm's voice, far more refined and rich picked up. The room fell silent as the prince's waited for Angrod's response.

  "Tis not my burden," he shrugged simply.

  Whispered voices swelled. Tension simmered as Caranthir's voice transformed from a snarl into a venomous hiss. "A curse on you Angrod, and all the sons of Finarfin! You speak only with a desire to please the king, yet your words lack any conviction!"

Aegnor then rose and stepped forward, stepping in front of his brother. "Forgive me, Caranthir, but did you just call my brother a liar? Perchance I am mistaken, retract your words, ere I change my mind!" He growled

  "And as for you!" Caranthir barked, pointing at Aegnor. "I will not be threatened by the youngest and lowest born of our houses! You are just privileged enough to be present at this council, let alone be permitted to speak!"

   Aegnor smiled and licked his lips, casting a wicked glance back at Angrod. "Low born am I, Caranthir?" He squinted his eyes, his devilish grin widening, "How can that be so? I emerged from the proper birth channel, when you fell out of the other opening in your mother below it!" Voices and gasps ghosted around as Caranthir glared at Aegnor. "Lost for words, so suddenly?" Aegnor added quickly, "It seems your talents are better suited for thieves and murderers than among noble princes!" His tone growing with rising anger.

 "Pah!" Caranthir scoffed. "Yes, your Teleri mother was not among her people when we slaughtered them like animals, what a pity! Maybe we should have run our swords through her too!" 

  At that, Fingon, the king's son, flew at Caranthir in a fit of heated rage in defence of Aegnor and Angrod, his cousins. He tore into Caranthir with words of his own, his white teeth bared in rage. Curufin and Celegorm quickly leapt to their feet and joined to defend their brother against Fingon's heated words. Two opposing sides were formed, as Fingon, Aegnor, and Angrod clashed with the three sons of Feänor in a dramatic stand-off. Their voices merging with fury. The others bearing witness to this could only watch with silence. Maedhros and Maglor shook their heads, burying them in their hands, while Turgon and Finrod exchanged disaproving glances. Aredhal stood up and in a screech that out drowned them all.

"Quiet!" She yelled

The high-pitched shrill peirced through the voices of the prince's cutting the shouting completely. Stunned and silenced, their wide eyes gazes locked on the feisty Noldorin princess 

 "Lo! Such fearsome warriors, squabbling like a throng of children! In your ceaseless quest for the vilest of insults, you have all lost your minds! Seek reconciliation that we may continue this unhindered! Verily, you are all of an insufferable nature! I take my leave from you and this entire assembly, for I was not brought forth to watch the prattling of such a feeble headed lot!"

 She stormed away, leaving the council in a cloud silence. Like chastised children, the six stood embarrassed and silent in the wake of her departure and the heat of such a scolding. Aegnor looked over at the sons of Feänor, their fragile expressions proving to tempting to resist.

 "Did your red ears catch that Caranthir?" He chimed in, "Even a princess discerns your feeble head!" 

  Caranthirs rage burst forth, lunging at Aegnor only to be swiftly pulled back by his brothers. Caranthir's scratchy, harsh voice hurled profanities as Aegnor's unbridled laughter danced, relishing in the chaos he had wrought. The flurry of angry voices surged once more. Finally, Maedhros rose, his dizzying height towering over the rest. Seizing Caranthir in a firm grip, he dragged his brother away. Caranthirs rage still erupting in a flurry of words. Aegnor regarded him with a creeping haughty smile and fiery gaze. Fingolfin dismissed Aegnor also from their midst, and he went peacefully, his gloating, victorious grin still wide. As the council dragged on, the council of the princes determined that they would cease their attacks on Angband and focus on fortifying their kingdoms. Much to Angrod and the kings discontent. 

 

 ○○○

 Dorthonion

 365 A.D

 

    The harsh morning frost blanketed the ground, transforming the muddy terrain and decaying leaves into a dense mixture resembling a frozen soup of wet, rotting wood As autumn neared its end, the remaining leaves gently descended, painting the landscape with hues of orange, gold, and red. Aegnor and Angrod rode together along the thick forest road, heading north towards Angband. After a night of continuous riding, the early morning hour greeted them as they crossed a shallow, icy stream.

    As Aegnor trailed a short distance behind, a faint glint beneath the stream's surface caught his keen eye. He brought his horse to a halt, staring curiously at the object that beckoned his capturing hand. He dismounted, his boots splashing into the icy water, his fingers curled around the object at the bed of the stream. It lay in his warm palm as he stared down at it. A silver harp broach. Small and delicate beyond measure. Aegnors attention was soon shaken by Angrod called out to him from the edge of the stream, urging him to continue their journey.

  "I have stumbled upon a lost treasure belonging to a small child, I fear some catastrophe has taken place here!"

   Angrod dismissed his concerns, emphasizing their need to press on. Whoever the previous owner was, they were long gone. A sudden, unrelenting feeling overcame Aegnor, an overwhelming unwillingness to abandon this poor child to the hands of fate. Without a word, Aegnor flung himself back upon his horse and galloped away, leaving Angrod behind. Before long, he picked up a trail and diligently followed it for quite a distance until it abruptly stopped. Dismounting once more, Aegnor looked around. It had gone completely cold. The freezing temperature bit at his hands, and he breathed warmth into them. His breath steamed from his mouth like a white cloud.

    He closed his eyes and listened. The birds in the trees and the rustling of the insects through the dirt, the dripping of melting frost from the grass. Then, a sound soon echoed in his ears, just within range. The faint drumming of a very distant heartbeat. Aegnor launched into a sprint, leaping over fallen branches and large rocks like a deer. After running a fair distance, he entered a vast clearing within the forest, surrounded by thick trees. An eerie silence enveloped the area. His hand instinctively sought solace on the hilt of his knife as he stepped out into the openness.

   "I know you are there!" He called out into the foggy emptiness, "Step out from your hiding place, and no harm will come to you!"  His call was met with nothing but an eerie stillness. Undeterred, he tried again, his voice slicing through the silence like a sharp blade. "Reveal yourself!"

   A subtle clue caught Aegnor's keen eyes—a faint foot impression frosted over in the mud and squashed weed flowers. He followed their trail, leading his gaze toward a large boulder that protruded out of the frozen ground. He picked up a pebble, his fingers curling around it.

 "Surrender yourself willingly, and no harm will come to you. You have my word!" The silence persisted. He threw the pebble. It hit the boulder and bounced off its surface, landing on the other side.

  "Go away, you fell beast! Leave me alone!" A shrill voice pierced through the air, emanating from the boulder. Aegnor hesitated, his initial concern replaced by a curious intrigue. With caution guiding his steps, he edged closer.

 "Step out, now!" He ordered.

 "Have you come to eat me at last, foul troll?" The mysterious voice quivered 

  Offended, he retorted. "No!"

  "You are! That is what you claimed the last time before you tried to put me in your mouth!" 

  "How dare you insinuate this nonsense! I am a prince, not a troll! And you will give me the respect I am due! I have no intention nor desire to 'put you in my mouth'!" Aegnor barked. His deep offence to such a bizarre accusation is growing. A swift pause followed, pregnant with silence.

 "Your words are, but empty vassals weaved masterfully in an attempt to sway my heart to come out! I am no fool! Be gone, you disgusting creature! I will not be your breakfast today!" The unidentified voice screeched. Aegnor rubbed his face with his hands and snorted loudly. He couldn't believe the absolute absurdity of this situation.

  "Do you not see the daylight? There are no trolls! Now stop this foolishness at once and come!"  His words were halted in mid sentence by a heavy tap, accompanied by a putrid stench.

   Slowly, he turned his head. On his shoulder, a greenish blob of revolting bitted slime had splattered onto his fine elven cloak. He looked up, and his wide eyes were confronted by a mouth of black and yellow teeth, remnants of a recent meal still clinging to its maw. A piercing scream erupted from the troll's throat as it lunged at Aegnor. Reacting swiftly, Aegnor ducked low and rolled away, putting much-needed distance between them. The troll came at him again with furious swipes of its massive claws. Aegnor parried each blow skilfully with his trusty blade, enduring the savage onslaught. He felt the rush of air from its claws as each time the troll would lunge forward only for Aegnor to leap out of its grasp at the last possible moment. With much of his arsenal left upon his horse, he realized he was grave danger.

 "Angrod!" He cried, his thunderous voice shaking the birds from the trees. The faint echoes of his desperate call reached Angrod, and in a moment, he spurred toward the sound. 

  Agility could prevail for only so long against the brute strength of the troll. In a flash of motion, the foul beast ensnared Aegnor in an iron grip. With a thunderous slam, it bashed him against the hard ground. Again and again, it pulverized him into the dirt. Gasping for air, Aegnor saw stars dance across his vision. But the troll wasn't finished. With a menacing grin, it hoisted him upward. Aegnor felt himself soar through the air before crashing into a sturdy oak with a sickening crunch. Pain erupted through his body, momentarily stunning him. As his senses reeled, the troll seized its chance. It skewered his shoulder brutally with a jagged spear, embedding the weapon deep within the wood. Trapped, Aegnor knew victory was impossible. Bur giving up was not in his nature. He mustered the strength to deliver a forceful kick to the troll's face. The blow forced the ferocious beast backwards with a loud, startled howl. It was not used to pray that fought back.

   In that critical moment, the troll regained its senses and hurled once more toward Aegnor. It grabbed his arm that held the dagger and pinned it above his head. Aegnor realized that the fight was lost. The spear embedded in his shoulder stung with intense pain. The troll snarled and opened its massive, dirty clawed hand, closing around on the elf's throat. Exuding a menacing growl, its ugly face contorted with a devilish grin akin to a savage creature preparing to devour its prey.

 "Come and eat me, troll!" The voice shrieked from the boulder

    The troll whirled its head around toward the source of the voice. The momentary pause caused a window of escape for the elf. Aegnor released the dagger from his pinned hand, and it fell toward the ground, catching it with his free hand. He forcefully drove the blade through the back of the troll's skull. The beast yelped and gargled. With sharp jerking motion, Aegnor pulled the trolls head backwards as he thrust deeper, ensuring maximum effect. The troll's body finally went limp, and it collapsed upon the ground with a heavy thud. Dark green liquid oozed from its head and mouth, pooling beneath it in a grotesque puddle.

  Panting with agony, grasped the spear in his shoulder, pinning him to the tree, and with controlled breaths, he forcefully yanked it out, freeing him from the troll's entrap The pain was almost unbearable, and he collapsed upon the ground, his voice lifting into sharp cries of agony. He clutched his shoulder, and it seeped with blood. He gradually rose to his feet. His startled grey eyes swiftly locked onto his brother's form as he finally came into view. The rhythmic gallops of his horse beating upon the ground.

 "By the Valar! What in Arda happened here?!" Angrod exclaimed, his face contorted with horror.

 "A troll! It attacked me from the shadows!" Aegnor winced

 "In broad daylight!?" Angrod exclaimed 

   The sound of a snapping twig instantly diverted their attention, causing both brothers to pivot their heads toward the source. Emerging from behind the rock was a figure clad in only a wet, dirty, pale blue dress. Her small frame clutched her chest, shivering violently. A ragged gasp of surprise echoed from Aegnor's soft lips and ran towards her. He fell to his knees before her and grasped her frozen hands. 

  "Child, you are freezing!" He remarked and swiftly removed his cloak, wrapping it around the shivering girl. Her small body embraced the cloaks' welcome warmth. As he worked to ensure she was tightly wrapped, she saw the outline of his pointed ears adorned with silver piercings.

  "You're an elf!?" Her surprise turned to realization. "I called you a troll!" She shivered

  "Hush, be still," he whispered, as if by impulse the palm of his hand immediately clasped her cheek. 

  His eyes met hers for the very first time. A sudden spark ignited between their souls. Her eyes, black and mysterious, drew him in. She was equally enraptured in his. A vibrant light of molten silver and flakes of gold mirrored in their depths both the sun and the moon shone forth. Both are captivating and unnerving. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her supple, frozen cheek, a sudden, silent enchantment that caught them both off guard. An unexpected tear spilt from his eye, rolling down his face, and it drew her eyes. Aegnor swiftly wiped it away, "I am sorry!" He said abruptly, turning his face away, 'I know not from where that came!" 

 "What are you doing here!?" The stern, booming voice shattered the spell between their gaze, startling them both into the present. Angrod had dismounted his horse and was swiftly making his way towards them. "These woods are full of danger!"

 "Quiet Angrod!" Aegnor reprimanded his brother." This poor child has been through a terrible ordeal! Do you wish to frighten her all the more!?"  "Aegnor-" Angrod protested before Aegnor cut him off.

 "If you wish to aid me, stand in silence or bring me my horse!"

  Affronted, but unwilling to utter words, he shouldn't say in the presence of a child, Angrod turned and headed into the woods, mumbling curses under his breath. Aegnor redirected his attention back to the girl, his tone softening.

  "Do not let him bother you. My brother is direct, but his concern is valid." A tense pause followed between them. "Why have you come to be out here all alone? Do you not know the danger you were in?" He asked gently

  "I was separated from my father," she shivered, her jaw chattering. "I wandered alone for two days," Her sweet voice, trembling with the cold, melted him. Her guileless, storm grey eyes brimmed with innocence and youth.  "By nightfall, I came to the bank to drink... and I was seized by that fell creature! Doubtless, he thought I would make a light snack, but I was too swift on my feet. His only prize was my cloak,"

  "You wandered these woods alone for two entire days!?" He asked softly, amazement palpable in his calm voice.

  "To find the way home, yes... " she chittered. "Although... I'm not sure of the way," she answered, her vulnerability palpable. 

"From where do you hail?"

  "Ladros," 

   A tense sigh clouded from his nostrils, blowing gently into her face. "Well, fear no longer, your harrowing trials are behind you, now come! Put your arms around my neck." With one effortless sweep, he hoisted her small frame up and carried her just as Angrod appeared with Aegnor's reins clasped in his gloved hand. 

  ("Aegnor! Have you lost your senses? The fumes of Angband would certainly kill her!") Angrod exclaimed in their native tongue, ensuring their words remained out of the child's understanding. Aegnor, however, paid no attention and carefully placed her on his horse, grunting loudly as his shoulder protested the effort.

  ("I am not bringing her to Angband!") Aegnor replied similarly, ("I am taking this girl back to her parents. You will have to proceed without me,")

  ("Ladros is at least a day's journey from here. It will take too long,") Angrod argued

  ("What do you propose Angrod!?") Aegnor snapped. ("If the wolves don't get her, then the orc's for a certainty will! If you even think I'm leaving her behind you -") 

  ("I would never suggest such a thing!") Angrod interrupted ("You know, as well as I do, that the threat we face is grave." Trolls appearing in daylight? I need you in Angband! I will escort her.") 

    Aegnor stared silently, contemplating Angrods words with great consideration. ("Nay,") he shook his head ("I am bound to this girls charge, the mantle falls on me") Without another word, he spun away and mounted up. switching to the common tongue he announced boldly. "I will join you once I have finished here. I shall not delay long!"

   With a swift motion, he urged his horse into a gallop and rode away toward the trees, the child safely nestled in front of him. Angrod bid him farewell, urging Aegnor to make haste, a complex blend of affection and pride swelled within him for his sibling. Despite their clashes, their bond ran deep. He smiled to himself and mounted his own horse, pressing onward to Angband alone.

    Riding together, they crossed the river and ventured into the woods, the rhythmic thumping of galloping hooves being the only sound between them. A multitude of questions fluttered in Aegnor's mind, but only one did he desire to ask.

  "What is your name, little maiden?" 

  "Andreth, lady of Ladros...what is yours?"

  "I am known by many names, but you may call me Aegnor,"

  "Aegnor," she whispered. His name echoed within her mouth, her tone filled with wonder as she spoke it. 

 Together, they rode along the mountain cliffs and deep valleys. The breath taking views and chirping winter birds, their songs marking this beautiful day. At last, she felt safe again. The warmth of his solid form behind her held her firmly as the horse's body shook between her legs with every beat of its hooves, spurring her onward towards home.