One Flesh, One Soul. Part II by FellFireFan

A Promise Made.

Ladros

366 A.D

The large wooden door resounded with three distinct, commanding knocks that echoed through the corridor. With a rattling creak, the door slid open, revealing the figure of Boromir, standing in its arched frame. Engrossed in the pages of a book, the young girl was completely oblivious to her father's presence. The outside world seemed to fade away, leaving only the crackling fire and the flicking of the sheets of parchment. The world within the pages consumed her.

 "How are you, daughter?" Boromir's warm voice broke the serenity, drawing Andreth's immediate attention. Her eyes widened, and a radiant smile spread across her cheeks. "So, you have met the Lord Aegnor?" He smiled. Andreth's eyes sparkled.

  "Do you know him?" she squeaked, her voice barely containing her childish excitement.

   "Know him?" Boromir came and settled down on the floor beside her. He spoke with a warmth that only a father's love could bring. "I am well acquainted with Aegnor. In fact, we are long friends. For I was only a young man when I met him.

  "Oh, Father, I can hardly believe my eyes! A real elf! Just like in the stories!" She sat up from her book, her eyes danced with wonder. "He was just as magical and beautiful as I imagined!" She squealed, her eyes caught in a dream. 

   Boromir laughed. "Be that it may, however, Prince Aegnor is a being of fierce repute. I have personally witnessed his brutality upon the battlefield. Hence, I was truly stunned to learn he found himself in need of rescue and from the hands of my own daughter, no less!" 

  "Aegnor... is a prince?" she gasped

  "Yes, and the Lord of Dorthonion!" Boromir chuckled lightly. "With his brother Angrod, he protects this realm and all who dwell here and by extension, all the other kingdoms," 

  "That is quite a burden, he must be so tired all the time," she said sadly, her chin drawing into her chest.

   Boromir smiled upon her warmly, "Perhaps, but you are yet in your tender bloom, child. It would be best not to encumber your thoughts with the weighty concern of adults. Aegnor, for his part, knows all too well the dangers in this cruel world. The fair ones above all things are guarded beings, Aegnor's sacrifice for your sake was not one made out of mere chivalry, that much I know for a certainty!"

  He embraced her and rose from the floor. He departed with a lingering movement. Andreth rose from the fur rug she was lying on. Rustles of her dress and light thumps of her footsteps carried her. She knelt and lifted a corner of the rug, exposing a loose plank of bare wood beneath. Her nimble fingers grasped the edge of the concealed crest, and she carefully lifted it, revealing a secret compartment on her floor. From within, she retrieved a small, intricately crafted silver box. With deft hands, she unclasped its lock and settled herself on the floor, her legs elegantly folding beneath her small frame. Slowly, she pried it open, and it yielded its treasures within. Resting on a plush velvet cushion lay a fragment of the poisoned troll's spear that was once imbedded inside Aegnor's shoulder. In its carved veins, where the poison once lay, nested the lines stained red with Aegnor's own blood.

  As she cradled the artefact in her delicate palm, memories flooded her mind, to the very moment she acquired it. She recalled his image in her mind that fateful day. His unconscious form lying on the wet grass. The cold rain drops peltering down upon them as the thunder roared in the above. His eyes closed as though he was in a dreamless sleep. Dark, thick eyelashes resting on his fair cheeks and his full, plump lips slightly opened as strands of wet hair clung around his visage and mouth. Strong and beautiful, yet so very fragile. 

  Overwhelmed by the significance of her possession, she breathed a mere whisper, her voice tinged with awe and reverence. "So beautiful..." she uttered and smiled, her voice trailing off in a dream-like wonder. 

  "Aegnor... my prince."

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Lake Auluine

382 A.D

  With the final verse sung and the last drop of wine savoured, the dawn gracefully emerged from its slumber, casting a glow upon the camp of both elves and men. The heavens painted a breath-taking tableau, as clouds adorned in hues of crimson took centre stage in a captivating dance of splendour. The lingering star of that enchanting night gradually faded, bidding farewell to its nocturnal reign, heralding the birth of a new day. As the sun ascended and its light fully returned, the camp filled with crisp morning air. The night before had been a blessed one, filled with merriment and laughter, dances, and songs. For some, the atmosphere brought on a sense of romance as many couples rekindled their love through affectionate embraces and kisses. 

  Bregor emerged from his tent, accompanied by Variel, his beloved wife. With tender affection, he bestowed upon her a kiss so gentle, his hands cradling her swollen belly where their precious child stirred within. Instructing Variel to take a rest, he set about helping his men prepare for their long journey homeward.

  Amidst the bustling activity near the camp's horses, Bregor's eyes fell upon Beryl. Seated upon a weathered stump, her countenance veiled in sorrow, her mousy brown tresses cascading like a mourning cloak around her downturned face. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he approached his sister, driven by his desire to offer comfort, however uncomfortable he felt about it.

  "Beryl," he spoke with gentle concern, his voice a soothing catch, "What sours your mood? You did not dance or eat once last night, and all your friends have deserted you to your sunken state,"

  Tears streamed down Beryl's cheeks. Anger and misery beset in her pitched voice. "Andreth has driven away the only man I have ever loved! Now I am destined to wither, an old maid without the solace of a single male companion! Just like her! That vile sister of mine! Once again, she has shattered my happiness, and I shall never forgive her for as long as I draw breath!"

  "Beryl!" Yelled Bregor, his growl, identical to their father's, startling her from her ranting, "Had it been I who discovered your frolicking and not Andreth, the outcome would have been far worse! I will not hear another word spoken against Andreth, for she had acted with more mercy than deserved!" 

  Beryl stared at him, her teary eyes widening with shock as he continued to yell, "Father will be informed of this grave misdeed, and he alone will determine that boy's rightful penance! Now pack your things!"

  Beryl jumped to her feet. "You can not do this!" she cried out, bitter with anxious rage. "Father would surely kill him or, worse, banish him from my side forever! I love him!!"

  Bregor's fury erupted like a blazing inferno, consuming every ounce of patience he now possessed. "You pursue men like mindless sport, shamelessly proclaiming your love for each one, Beryl! Only to move on to the next one as if it were nothing! This wheel of misery of yours ends now! Let this one serve as an example to all others, a stark warning to avert their eyes from my sister's body!" He roared.

  Her face flushed with rage. Beryl screeched in reply. "How dare you! I shall have any man I desire for a husband while I am young and fresh! You have no right to dictate who it shall or shan't be!"

"You are not of consenting age to determine who that will yet be! What is there not to understand about that!?" Bregor shouted, their quarrel reverberated through the camp, drawing attention.

  "I care not for your words! I want to be married now!!" She screamed, "I hate you! You, Andreth, and all who stand in my way of happiness! I am going back to find him! And we will elope together as man and wife!" 

 She whirled around, her brown dress swirling at her feet and took to flight. Ignoring her brother's demands for her to return. When it was clear she intended to leave into the forest alone, Bregor gave chase, his long strides leading him to the embrace of the woods. Variel's eyes, filled with concern, witnessed the swift retreat of Beryl, closely pursued by Bregor into the forest. Anxious for her family, she placed a tender hand upon her burgeoning abdomen as the child within stirred. Unable to locate Andreth from her perch, with measured grace, she rose from her chair and waddled slowly toward the treeline, her hands tenderly cradling around her precious burden.

  Bregor pursued Beryl deeper into the forest, unaware that his pregnant wife had joined the chase. He called out to Beryl, his loud voice reverberating through the quiet of the tranquil woods. However, Beryl did not yield, stubbornly defying his demands to stop. Eventually, she reached a vast chasm that abruptly halted her escape, leaving a towering fallen tree as her sole path forward.

  Casting a swift glance over her shoulder, she gasped for breath, her petite frame finding its footing upon the tree's exposed roots. But as she reached the midpoint, Bregor, his face fraught with agitation, finally emerged. Suppressing his simmering anger, he coaxed her back to safety, his voice beseeching her with fervour.

  "Beryl! Please! Cease this recklessness now! This is dangerous!!" he cried out, but she ignored him further as her feet etched further along the tree.

Barely had the word escaped his quivering lips. The hem of her dress caught on the wood, pulling her backwards. She lost balance and tumbled over the side. A blood-curdling scream of alarm pierced the air, reverberating through the surrounding forest. Her heart-wrenching as she desperately clung to the flimsy branch of the tree that pointed downward to the rocky abyss below. Their sharp, jagged surface ready to claim her life in a perilous instant. 

  As Bregor scaled the tree to commence his rescue, another distant, high-pitched shriek reached his ears, emanating from the depths of the woods behind him. Panic seized his heart as he recognized the petrified voice of his beloved Variel. Bregor, his head spinning furiously between the two cries, stood confronted with an agonizing reality, torn between the well-being of his sister and the life of his cherished wife, who carried his unborn child.

  Just as hope seemed to slip, and he began to consider whose life he should save, another sound now came in the form of soft galloping of hooves against the soil, approaching them from the other side of the chasm. Bregor lifted his wide, teary eyes to see the figures of Angrod and Aegnor emerge from the dense foliage like furious spirits, returning from their patrol. With a grace that defied mortal bounds, the two brothers sprang forth.

   With a seamless display of perfect synchrony, they leapt across the gaping trench below, over Beryl. Their flowing locks cascade behind them like radiant streams of liquid gold, greeting the ground on the other side with a thud that shook the ground beneath Bregor's knees. Landing square on either side of him.

   Angrod saw the unfolding tragedy swiftly grasp the gravity of the peril, confronting him. In a voice that was deep and calm, he turned to Bragor. "How may we lend aid?"

  "Variel!" Bregor's voice trembled with desperation. "Her cries of distress reached my ears from the nearby woodland! Please, my lords, go save her!"

  The princes exchanged a worried glance. Aegnor darted into the depths of the forest, his majestic mount transforming into a blur of motion as he raced toward the source. Angrod lingered behind, swiftly dismounting his steed and fixing his stern gaze upon Beryl. Carefully considering his options. "I must make haste while her strength lasts." 

   Variel, her swollen belly a burden on her strength, frantically attempted to escape the relentless beast hot on her heels. With each desperate stride, her hopes of outrunning her pursuer dwindled. Finally, she halted, gasping for breath, her tear-streaked face contorted with raw terror. Summoning her last ounce of bravery, she turned to confront her predator, emitting a bone-chilling scream that pierced the air. 

  Her eyes locked onto the nightmarish sight that awaited her—a snarling orc, its grotesque flesh hanging from its body as if defying death itself. Its lipless mouth revealed a ghastly row of yellow, jagged teeth, while its malevolent white eyes fixated unwaveringly on its prey. Oily hair obscured its vision, accentuating the creature's monstrous nature against its coal-black skin. The orc's sinewy muscles rippled as it roared, savouring Variel's fear as if it were a delectable feast. Slowly, it closed in, its jaws salivating, ready to claim its helpless victim. As Variel sank to the ground, her hand trembled, extending towards the orc in a desperate plea for mercy, all clutching her belly. Desperate to protect the life within her.

  Aegnor moved through the trees like a furious spirit, drawing his blade as he closed in on their location. It sliced the wind with a piercing whistle as he spun it wildly through the wind with a wave of his wrist, the sharp edge glinted in the rays of sunlight. He charged to Variel's defence. He leapt upon the orc. He thrust his blade into its back before it could turn to defend itself. It screamed and cried as Aegnor viciously butchered it. Variel watched in tearful horror as the elf showed no mercy. The screeching died, and Aegnor, covered in the spattered blood of the orc, turned to her. The ire in his eyes dying.

 "Do not fear, lady," he spoke, his voice coarse with forced softness. "There is no threat that lingers here." Wide-eyed and consumed by terror, Variel's gaze fixated on him as he calmly cleaned his sword and sheathed it from her view once more. 

  Upon trembling legs, Variel struggled to find her footing, her form quaking with exhaustion. Aegnor swiftly came to her side, carefully guiding her to rest upon a large, moss-covered stone. As she found herself gazing up into his eyes, her own widened with a sense of wondrous astonishment, and any words that might have formed in her mind escaped her, as if the very air had been stolen from her lungs.

  Slowly, Variel rose from her seated position. Aegnor watched intently as she gently reached out and took his blood-stained palm in her own, with a reverence befitting the sacred. With infinite care, she placed his hand upon the gentle swell of her belly. Aegnor's breath stilled, his entire being freezing, heavy with a profound anticipation, as if the ancient forest itself held its breath in solemn witness. They waited in reverent silence for but a moment. Then, he felt the gentle lump of pressure within her pushing back into his warm, bloodied hand. Aegnor quivered, releasing a shuddering sigh, filled with awe, and upon his face blossomed an exhilarating smile. A tear of utter joy glistened in his eye, and he gave way to soft, trembling sniffs, his smile fading as sorrow swelled within him.

  Variel, ever kind and gentle, cast her soft, luminous gaze upon him, witnessing the elf in his most fragile moment. In a faint voice, barely a murmur, Variel spoke, "Do you feel her, my lord? She reaches for you, her champion."

  Unable to bear the weight of his longing, Aegnor was brought to his knees before her, his head bowed low to the earth. Muffled sobs whispered from his lips. His brow strained with intense sorrow. "I am so weary of this... of all of this!" Aegnor uttered, "I do not want to fight anymore! It is a burden I can no longer bear!" 

  The white petal fell from the blossom hanging above them, that swayed in the gentle breeze that danced with the song of the birds. It fluttered to the grassy plain below, landing in his palm with a delicate kiss. His spattered, blood-stained face hidden between the curtains of glossy hair gazed down silently at the delicate petal in his hand. In that moment, he thought of Marúel and Petaril. Their smiling faces played in his mind like a dream. Variel watched as his fingers gently enclosed around it. Accepting his fate as its guardian.

  Finding his composure, Aegnor slowly rose to his feet once more. "Life... there is much beauty in it, yet... so much pain." He muttered. His trembling lips weakened under the weight of his heart.

  Variel stepped closer, her smile warm as the sun. She placed her hand on the elf's heart, and his eyes fluttered open. "There is also great joy and deep love within it. Powers beyond all fleeting control. Hearts entwined in a tapestry of love, where one can find safety even in the darkest of places," she gazed up at him, smiling. "A sanctuary, where no sword or weapon can penetrate," 

  Aegnor's lips drew into a soft smile. His heart swelling with love and his burning desire to hasten to Andreth's side again. A single nod, he whispered, "Thank you,"

  Back at camp, as Angrod emerged from the trees astride his noble steed and Bregor walking closely beside him, Beryl clutched securely in his arms. They drew the attention of many. Andreth, who had been looking for them, came flying toward them with haste. Her brow tense with worry and her eyes wide. 

  "Beryl!" Andreth cried out, her voice tinged with concern. Bregor swiftly explained the events. Andreth, with utmost tenderness, took hold of her sister's delicate hand. Beryl lay in a stupor, alert but unresponsive. The shock is still within her. 

  "I will take her back to her tent," Angrod announced, lifting her from Bregor's arms, "You will wait here for Variel, Aegnor should have dispatched the threat by now" With Beryl's slim frame in his arms, Angrod carefully waded toward the encampment. 

 "Andreth, has Variel returned with Aegnor?" Bregor hastily inquired, his words hurried and laden with" apprehension.

  Andreth looked at him, bewildered. "No, has something happened?" Bregor spun around, his gaze fixated on the woodland. 

 "Ready my horse!" Bregor cried, "I am going to look for my wife!" 

 "My Lord!" His guard called out, pointing toward the woods, "look!"

  Aegnor appeared, with Variel seated comfortably behind him in a side-sadle. He rode with unhurried steps, taking care not to upset the delicate burden nestled behind him. With fervour, Bregor raced towards them, followed at a distance by Andreth.

  Swinging his long leg over Sorna's neck, he dismounted, extending his arms to Variel, Andreth's steps faltered as she beheld the state of him. Her gaze fixated on the spatters of orc blood that painted him.

  Aegnor, with composed decorum, returned Variel into the waiting embrace of her husband. Overwhelmed with joy, Bregor enveloped his beloved with tender devotion, bestowing upon her countenance a cascade of adoring kisses. 

 Aegnor observed the scene with a smile that radiated palpable contentment, Bregor whispered sweet nothings into Variel's ear before burying his head into her neck, and then he turned to Aegnor

"I would hate to see the condition of the one who attacked you, Aegnor," Bregor jested.

 Aegnor grinned. His smile faded slightly as his gaze fell on Andreth as she hastened towards him.

"Aegnor, you are a frightful sight!" she gasped softly, her voice delicate with tenderness. 

"And your beauty is boundless as always, my lady, shall I fetch thee a pale of water, that you might gaze upon your reflexion while the stars wait upon your permission to align?" He smiled, bowing. His teasing jest, in response to his light-hearted remark, elicited a surprised, light-hearted scoff from her lips. Soon, they stretched into a wicked smile of matching wit.

"Nay, for I will take that pale for all it's worth and dump it over your head, and rince you like a dish rag if you ever leave in such a fashion again, and returning like the wolves spat you back out!" She grinned.

 They laughed in unison, their eyes lingering. Variel turned to her husband, "Let us go and leave them to be alone!" She smiled, pulling Bregor away. He went willingly without a thought, following her back to the camp. Andreth approached Aegnor closer. The tension in the air was palpable. He reached behind him, and Andreth gasped as his hand emerged. From his clothing, Aegnor pulled a white bloom of supreme beauty. Its delicate petals crisp and unfurled, welcomed her sparkling gaze. She smiled as he placed it in her pale, soft hands. She brought it to her nose and sniffed. The sweet smell carressed her senses, a delicate gift. 

 "Good morning," Aegnor whispered. 

 "You left my side so suddenly. Like a fleeting shadow, I had not time to say but a word," she replied.

 "Orc's had been spotted nearby, I had to act with haste,"

 "I know, Aegnor," she breathed, smiling delicately. "I must have every moment with you, and I know it is selfish," She laughed, her cheeks blushing shyly. 

 He stood serenely, gazing down upon her with soft eyes, his hair billowing across his face in the gentle air. Warm fingers slowly slipped into hers. She tensed, her hand closing around his. She gazed into his eyes, discerning a mischievous glint shining within their depths. She understood his unspoken desire. 

 With determined steps. Andreth waded back to the camp, closely followed by Aegnor. Busy bodies surrounded them, to distracted in their tasks to notice them. She made her way to her own tent, its hanging curtains draped closed. A welcome sight to their eyes. They entered Andreth's tent. Silence and privacy surrounded them, away from prying eyes. Alone atlast, Aegnor approached behind a waiting Andreth. Her breathing slow and deep. Then, the clasp of hands slipped around her waist from behind. She stilled, her breath halting immediantly, he pulled her body into him. 

  Her eyes closed, and her head fell back onto his broad, strong shoulder. Aegnor bent his neck to the side, his velvety, lax lips slowly brushed along the silken skin of her warm neck. She released a deep sigh of pleasure at the contact. Her skin crawled with every nerve, electrified by his touch.

  Unable to resist any longer, Andreth turned in his arms, her lips, red and full, quickly found his. A kiss, soaked in gentleness and affection, melded their lips together, pressing delicately and lingeringly. The sweet kiss grew deeper, and soon, Aegnors languid, velvety , warm tongue slipped within her, brushing softly against hers. She gasped deeply, her senses overwhelmed at the deeply sensual nature with which he kissed her. Gentle and utterly breathtaking. 

  They soon came to stop and pulled apart. Her face buried into his strong neck, and she smelled his essence. Strong arms gently enclosed around her. Holding her close. 

 "Aegnor... " she breathed into his neck, "I feel as though my very heart will burst from my chest, I can not bear this for much longer!" He held her silently as she continued, "Now, we must say goodbye, yet again,"

Aegnor said nothing. His heavy eyes, laden with longing, stared aimlessly into the floor as he held her. She trembled. "Will you be gone long this time?" 

  Slowly, he released her gazing into her beautiful, sad eyes. "Do not fear for the uncertainty that lies ahead, I will make the way for us." He breathed.

  Doubt shrouded her. "I know you wish me to trust in you fully, yet I must have but a small, fleeting hope that there is a chance for us," she replied with a matching, hushed tone. Her hopeful eyes, pleading with his. "I have waited so long for you." She whispered. His intense gaze lingered on her, drinking in her beauty and fragility.

  "Bregor is aware of the nature of our relationship," he replied softly. "It will not be long before it reaches your father's ears also. Upon my next return from my post in Angband, I intend to seek a private audience with him, and there, I will beseech him that I may have your hand in marriage." 

  Her face intensified at his words. "A marriage between the Eldar and the Edain? Could such a thing truly exist?" She quivered.

 "I perceive no gulf that divides us, no force that could ever drive me from your side. With every beat of my heart, in this world and all others to come, you alone are the desire that consumes me utterly," he murmured, his voice rich with emotion.

 With a wayward, trembling sigh. She surrendered her hope to his hands."So be it then, Aegnor," Andreth murmured, her eyes shining with unbridled devotion. "I entrust my very being unto you, for with each break of dawn, I shall turn my gaze to the horizon, awaiting your return that I might once more feel the shelter of your embrace

She leaned into him then, her lips brushing his in a whisper of a kiss, her breath trembling with the weight of unspoken intimacies. Aegnor shuddered, the silent stirings of sensual pleasure not escaping her keen notice.

  "This I pledge to you, my love," Andreth continued, her voice soft yet resolute. "That my heart and body, forevermore, shall be yours and yours alone, bound to you as the stars are bound to the heavens."

  The air around them was charged with the intensity of their mutual ardour. Andreth's eyes shone with a fierce devotion, her every fibre yearning to be enveloped by the all-consuming love that burned within Aegnor's very being.

  Not opening his eyes, Aegnor unravelled within her, securing her lips with a final lingering kiss of acknowledgement, before finally releasing her. He slowly withdrew from her and left, stealing a tender glance back at her before stepping out of the billowing tent curtains. Folding her arms into her body. She passed him a tense smile, and he slowly slipped out. His form disappeared as a shadow upon the sunlight sheet. 

  Alone in her tent, without the presence of Aegnor, she felt a heavy weight upon her heart. How empty her world seemed without him. She ignored a lingering sense of dread that nagged at her mind, choosing to place her trust in his word completely and that his term commanding Angband would not keep him from her side for overlong.

   "Goodbye, Aegnor," She whispered to the stillness.

Farewell, My Friend.

   In the depths of slumber, Variel was suddenly seized by the first pangs of childbirth, while nestled serenely in her husband's tender embrace upon their bed. With a swift ascent, a piercing cry escaped her lips, jolting Bregor from his peaceful repose. Her countenance was adorned with a sense of urgency with each relentless agonising spasm. Frantically, Bregor traversed the halls in disarray, his panic palpable, rousing the maidens from their rest to attend to the laborious plight of his beloved wife. Andreth, swift and resolute, arrived first at the scene, bearing soft blankets and water warmed to a soothing temperature by the hearth. Lady Anthel graced the chamber with her presence, accompanied by a retinue of maidservants who promptly ushered the men, including their young son, out of the chamber.

   Within the intimate confines of the bedchamber, the assembled women employed every resource at their disposal to assuage Variel's fervent distress as the agony of childbirth escalated with each passing moment. The room resounded with Variel's sorrowful sobs casting a sombre pall in the room. Alas, all was not well. Bregor, standing outside the chamber with his aged father and his young son, pressed his head against the door, a tear streamed sorrowfully down his visage. The cries of agony of his beloved proved too much for his tender heart to bear.

   As the arduous labour dragged on, spanning two days and nights, it became evident that something was grievously wrong. Variel's bitter sobs transmuted into harrowing, anguished screams, and eventually waned to weary, parched moans as her strength faded. Andreth and her mother toiled tirelessly, their resolute demeanour aimed at soothing Variel's shattered spirit, urging her onward. Yet, as the final day dawned, exhausted, pallid, and utterly defeated, Variel's life was slipping away.

   Andreth approached Variel's side, taking hold of her pale hand and offering words of solace to her dear sister, urging her to persevere. Variel's cerulean eyes, akin to the boundless depths of the ocean, vibrant with life, now bore a sallow and weary gleam. Her golden tresses now hung tangled and dishevelled, devoid of their former lustre and drenched with moisture. Beads of sweat upon her forehead bore witness to the valiant struggle she fought for the sake of her unborn child, a battle she was losing. Andreth beheld Variel's dull, vacant gaze, witnessing the ebbing of life from her eyes. 

  A solitary tear fell from Andreth's visage, a silent plea to her sister. Summoning her last reserves of strength, Variel exerted herself with one last effort. Thrice she pushed, summoning forth the child from within her, and with bated breath, the babe was delivered into the waiting arms of Lady Anthel, who swiftly enshrouded the fragile form in a comforting blanket. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, Variel's consciousness briefly waned, slipping into the embrace of sleep.

   Andreth hastened to her mother's side, her heart heavy with trepidation, to examine the newborn child. It was a daughter, a resplendent baby girl. However, their initial smiles were swiftly marred by furrowed brows as they realized that the child lay motionless, devoid of breath. Andreth, her voice trembling, took the infant from her mother, whose very being was gripped by fear. Drawing her niece near the hearth, Andreth employed every ounce of her being to breathe life into the tiny form. Alas, the child remained unresponsive, unyielding to Andreth's desperate attempts. Placing her ear against the infant's red, miniature chest. Life burst from the infant, cries for comfort shrieked from its mouth.

  "My child..." Variel's hushed voice permeated the air as she stirred once more. Andreth, summoning her inner strength, composed herself and rose to her feet. Variel extended her arms expectantly, a glimmer of hope adorning her weary face. With utmost care, Andreth brought the baby to her mother's waiting embrace, tenderly cradling her against Variel's breast. The cries soon quieted as the infant felt its mother's warmth, seeking replenishment from her.

  "She is... a treasure, beloved by the Valar," Variel whispered, her gaze fixed lovingly upon the precious child nestled against her bosom. Andreth, her heart deeply troubled, could only nod in response.

  "Her name shall be Hirwen," Variel continued, her voice a tired murmur. "For she bears the heart of a valiant warrior,"

  "Tis a beautiful name," Andreth croaked, her words laden with raw emotion as she surrendered to sudden tears that she had not expected. Overcome by the moment.

  "Let not your heart be sad... sweet Andreth," Variel whispered, her countenance graced by a gentle, unwavering smile. "No greater gift could I bestow to you, now I am complete... but you...," she paused, her voice barely above a breath. "A grander fate awaits you, full of blissful happiness... far from this world," 

  Overwhelmed, Andreth's tears turned to weeps as she tenderly clasped Variel's hand, weeping into it. Her mother and the attending maidens joined in her tears, forming a circle around the fair and noble lady.

  A serene, dying smile lingered upon Variel's lips as she finally reclined, her gaze fixed upon the flying birds through the opened window. She blinked, as if capturing fleeting moments in her mind, and softly spoke, "Life... 'tiss such a cruel, gift... too few sunlit days... too few... memories," With a final breath, Variel's soft smile faded as she gradually succumbed to the embrace of eternal slumber, her baby cradled against her breast.

   Variel, the noble and courageous lady, succumbed to her fate that day, leaving behind a void that could never be filled. The weight of sorrow hung heavy upon Ladros, as they mourned the loss of a beautiful life, so sweet and good, the extinguishment of a precious, nascent flame, never to be rekindled 

   Bregor, consumed by an immeasurable sorrow, found himself adrift. In the depths of his grief, he turned to the solace of parchment and quill, penning a heartfelt missive to Felagund, beseeching him for a favour. His words, laden with the weight of a shattered soul, brought the noble lord to undertake a solemn duty—transporting the hallowed remains of Variel to the sacred grounds of Norgothrond, where a clandestine sepulchre awaited, one in which she could find eternal repose. The remembrance of Variel's presence had become an unbearable burden, a relentless ache that he could no longer endure.

   With profound dignity, Felagund cradled Variel's lifeless form, bestowing upon her a burial befitting her regal spirit. In a secluded enclave within his kingdom, known solely to him, he laid her to rest with dignity. With his own hands. Interring her remains in a bed of flowers, ensuring that her final sanctuary would forever remain a secret whispered only by the winds of Norgothrond.

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Ladros

384 A.D

   With an ostentatious display, the flamboyant lord and his grand retinue galloped into the keep of Boromir, their thunderous arrival causing chaos in the bustling marketplace Stalls were upended, and fruits and vegetables tumbled haphazardly in their wake. Bedecked in resplendent armour, the lord himself wore a helmet adorned with large, vibrant feathers, his eagerness akin to an unruly bull unleashed in search of a mate. Bregor, seated on the keep's outer stairs lost in contemplation, observed the spectacle with disdain as the men dismounted at the foot of the stairs.

  The flamboyant knight, however, proved to be the epitome of clumsiness. Bregor arched an eyebrow as he silently witnessed the lord struggle to free his foot from the stirrup, resulting in an ungainly hopping motion. His cloak flapped and flopped, and it swirled in the vibrant wind as he fought with its enclosing grasp over his head while still hopping to free his foot. The cape obscured his vision, while his men rushed to assist him. Finally freed from the stirrup, the knight steadied his feet, pushing away his men in an attempt to regain a semblance of regal composure, hoping no one had borne witness to his embarrassing predicament.

  "You there! Guardsbody! Come hither at once!" The knight called out to Bregor. Unmoved, Bregor took a slow draw from his pipe, deliberately disregarding the knight's command. Infuriated by this direct disregard, the knight removed his helmet, revealing a youthful countenance adorned with ribbons and braids woven into his fair hair. A similarly ribboned and braided dark beard adorned his face. Handsome, though he may be, his features contorted with indignation.

  "How dare you dismiss me, worm! Such insolence shall not go unpunished! Come here immediately, I need not repeat myself thrice!" The knight bellowed in his high-pitched voice.

  Suppressing a sigh, Bregor calmly rose from his seat and descended the stairs. His stoic expression and dark countenance remained unfazed, undeterred by the towering presence of the lord before him.

  "What is your business here, wanderer?" Bregor asked, his voice devoid of emotion as he stood face-to-face with the knight.

  "You insolent wretch! I am a prince and you shall address me with the respect I am owed and my proposal of marriage to the Lady Andreth is not knowledge that is known to you and you will indeed not know why I am here! I shall ensure that your lord will strip you of your position! Now, assist my men in carrying my belongings into the keep. The lord of this keep is expecting my arrival with ardent enthusiasm!"

  "Oh?" Bregor replied, a hint of sardonic amusement lacing his words. In response, a leather glove swiftly met Bregor's face, and the knight delivered a resounding slap. 

  "Once again, you insult me with your profound ignorance! Pray, do your eyes not hear what your mouth sees?" He sneered, his voice dripping with exaggerated haughtiness. He paused, his eyes darting about in a desperate search for the right words. "Do your... eyes... behold.. what... umm," He stammered, his thoughts crumbling before him. Bregor, unable to contain his amusement, allowed a subtle smile to grace his lips, delighting in the knight's futile struggle to express himself with elegance.

  "Are you content to remain like a mute beast of burden?" the knight bellowed, his frustration piercing through his attempts at sophistication. Bregor's gaze bore into him, a mixture of amusement and subtle mockery twinkling in his eyes,

  "Follow me," Bregor hissed with a flick of his head, his voice laced with sardonic disdain, and led the knight, and his bemused retinue up the steps and into the keep.

   Upon entering, he was greeted by a large warm fire and curious faces. 

  "With utmost regret, I find that the abode of the house of Boromir does not quite match the expectations I had envisioned," he declared with a resonant voice, casting his gaze upon the surroundings. "Regrettably, this dwelling seems better suited for a prosperous farm owner than a noble lord. My residence, I dare say, exudes a far greater sense of luxury. Pray, when might I have the honour of conversing with the esteemed lady?" His words resounded with boldness and confidence.

  Bregor turned sharply. His countenance bore a stern expression, tinged with anger. "You may speak with her once the lord of this household deems you worthy!" Silence descended upon the hall as the two lords locked eyes.

   "Well, where is the lord of this house? That I may persuade him," he asked.

  Bregor's eyes narrowed with contempt. "I am he!" He hissed. 

   "I beg your pardon, my lord. I mistook you for one of your guards," he offered his flimsy excuse, bowing gracefully, followed by his entourage. Clearing his throat, he continued, his voice feigning boldness. "My lord, I am Jedran, the son of King Jerdyn of the realms to the south. In the wake of my ten elder brothers' tragic demise in battle, I stand to bear the burden of my father's entire kingdom, I seek a queen who shall reign by my side," he paused, his hopeful smile fading upon seeing the unyielding countenance of Bregor. With wavering confidence, he pressed on.

  "Above all else, she must be a maiden of refined beauty, nobility and purity, and I have come to negotiate a proposal of marriage for the reputation of your sister has reached my ears." A deliberate, drawn-out silence ensued, the prince, visibly discomfortable, cleared his throat. Bregor's stern gaze remained fixed upon him, his eyes unwavering.

  "Why not take a wife from your own people?" Bregor  grumbled apathetically.

    Nervous under Bregors intimidating glare, the prince passed weight from one foot to the other. "There is a scarcity of eligible women in my kingdom and those of neighbouring realms," he replied simply. "I have personally auditioned many beautiful women, all of whom have failed to meet the requirements I seek. These qualities are of paramount importance to my image and reign. Perhaps I may see her...so I may see her beauty for myself. "

  "My sister will not be displayed like some cattle to be sold! Your eyes will not behold her now, nor shall they ever forthwith! Get out of my house!" Bregor roared. Glaring, a group of guards surrounded the man, their hands resting on their swords. 

  "Please, Lord Bregor, I meant no offence. What I have to offer her is a life full of comfort and wealth beyond imagining, and by extension, you and your own kingdom. An alliance woven by the sacred bed of marriage, I will care for her and give her all her heart desires. She will never know a day of want. What say you?"

   "Her hand has been promised to another, a being far greater than both you and I, and her heart desires no other. You seek women for trophies, my sister shall choose her own path and it is not with you!" Bregor sneered. Jedran seized Bregor's arm.

  "You are making a grave mistake, I will adorn your sister with unimaginable splendour. It seems to me that such possessions would be of use to you," he whispered, prompting a piercing glare from Bregor, his dark eyes resembling a tempestuous storm.

  "I have suffered the loss of my wife, the love of my life, who gave her life so our daughter could live, and we have just laid our father to rest. If a fight is what you seek, I shall give it to you! Leave now, or meet your demise on a bended knee. The choice is yours!" Bregor hissed, his teary eyes reddened with tireless grief, narrowing.

   Jedran relinquished his grip, his voice descending to a gentle cadence. "I humbly extend my deepest condolences on your wife and beseech the blessings of solace upon your grieving family." With a soft smile, accompanied by a respectful bow, he turned to depart the keep before stopping once more. "Permit me," he spoke again, turning back to face him, "This rival you speak of, is he skilled in the art of the dual? I would throw my lot into combat with him," he suggested. Bregor's head shook. 

  "I can assure you, that if you were to challenge him, even before your first strike falls, lord Jedran, your death would be swift and painful," Bregor replied

  "Truly?" Jedran jested. A pensive pause punctuated his words before he spoke again. "In that case, my quest shall persist," he conceded, a tinge of melancholy underscoring his tone. "My proposal remains resolute, and I shall patiently await your response regarding the fate of your sister, should the tides of fortune graciously turn in my favour," he called out as he departed, leaving Bregor's presence.

   Andreth would fill her days riding along the valleys and clifftops, always with Aegnor's blade strapped to her hip. In the far distance, her eyes fell upon the tiny white fragment of wall that stuck out between two mountains, as far as her eyes could behold. Its smooth, white stone surface reflected the suns bright kiss, making it glow like a shimmering beacon of hope on the horizon.

   She sighed contentedly, a blissful smile upon her fair face. "So far from me, yet I feel he is but a breath away," she whispered to the wind. She looked down at her hands clutching a her reins and a small bouquet of white snow drops that lay in her grasp. "If only father had lived long enough to know of our pledge of love to one another. It would have made him so proud." She wiped a tear from her eye and raised her gaze to the distance once more. The fragment of wall, strong as ever stood like a guard at its post. 

   "Soon my love, you will return to my arms, until that moment, I shall keep your heart safe within me!" With those final words she rose away with a forceful kick. Her hair and dress flowing behind her like a shroud unleashed to the wind.

Norgothrond

386 A.D.

Uninvited Visitor

   Finrod sat comfortably in the dimly lit chambers. Soft scribbles of the quill sounded from the parchment as he penned a missive. Its intended recipient was Aegnor. Taking a rest mid-way through, the wooden, elven carved chair creaked as he leaned back and sighed deeply. In the rush of thought that clouded his mind, he found himself utterly bereft of words, and for a long, lingering spell, he was deeply troubled. 

   He was faced with an impossible decision. To allow his brother the freedom to choose to continue on this path, knowing only grief and despair without union waited for him at the end, or to protect his brothers heart, sparing him the grief of her loss, shouldering the blame entirely. 

   He plucked his quill up from its inky prison. Just as it made contact with the parchment again, an unexpected sound caught him off guard, pulling him from his stormy thoughts. His curiosity switched to alarm when a pair of hands grasped the bottom of the window from the outside. Finrod leapt to his feet to confront the unexpected intruder only to see Aegnor's robust figure, clouded in shadow pulling himself upwards and inside.

  "Aegnor!" Finrod yelled, his voice laced with surprise and annoyance.

  "Your guards are extremely diligent, Finrod!" Aegnor's laughing voice fluttered as his bright smile filled the room. He pulled himself in, clambering over the sill rather unceremoniously.

  "Aegnor! Why do you so brazenly disregard the formality of seeking an audience through penned missive before you're coming!? Had my guards seen you, they would have shot you without warning!" He scolded him. Aegnor laughed. His enchanting echo dancing through the room

  "Is it not my duty as your brother to shield you from the tedious and gruel shadows of dullness?" Aegnor quipped, his witty grin widening further.

  "Do not make light of this, Aegnor!" Finrod responded sternly, his long finger pointing at him. "Henceforth, you shall not enter my realm or scale my walls without first notifying my guards of your presence. Do I make myself clear!?" Finrod's anger caused Aegnor's smile to wane and morph into one of confusion.

  "Does some affliction trouble you?" Aegnor spoke, his brow furrowing with concern. 

   Finrod's stern countenance softened, his gaze fixated on Aegnor's eyes, shimmering with life and love. Releasing a tense sigh, Finrod gently closed his eyes, allowing them to linger in a prolonged blink. "I was in the proceeds of penning a missive addressed to you," he sighed wearily as he returned to the writing desk. A heavy burden weighed upon his features, casting a dark shadow over his countenance. "There are matters of great significance I need to discuss with you, words that can not be written by letter," Finrod continued, Aegnor's excitement surged forth, his voice brimming with unbridled joy.

  "Finrod, my heart is a flutter of joy, I fear it may burst from me and take to flight. There is something I yearn to share with you!" he exclaimed, his voice flushed with his bright grin.

   Silence fell, heavy and deafening. As Finrod rested his elbow on the desk, his head cradled in his hand. Sensing his brother's sombre mood, uncharacteristic for him, Aegnor paused, his grin sinking into a look of confusion.

  "Brother?" Aegnor spoke. Finrod sat silently, and his form was cloaked in shadows. "Finrod, have I committed any deeds that have brought a wrinkle to your noble brow?" 

   Finally, Finrod rose and turned around. "No, Aegnor, you are innocent of anything, I pray you forgive my sombreness, for a great burden weights upon me that is not of your doing." Finrod reassured him, offering him a gentle smile. A wave of relief washed over Aegnor's countenance, and his smile rekindled.

   "I had truly thought you held a grievance toward me," Aegnor replied, "That I had transgressed upon your weary soul. I am glad for that,"

   With a graceful sweep, Finrod sat down upon the furnishings, his form sinking into the softness of a cheslonge suite, extending his hand. He invited Aegnor to occupy the one parallel to him. Aegnor came and sank down gracefully before him. A small round table, decorated with afew flowers nestled in a small glass vase, separated them. The brothers stared at one another quietly, the air thick with unspoken words. A smile, masking a profound sense of dread, gently uplifted the corners of Finrod's plump lips. 

   "I am relieved to witness your happiness, Aegnor, truly," Finrod replied. Breaking the silence. A tense pause lingered between them. Aegnor observed his brothers hands that sat upon his lap. Their form tightly clenching together with one finger tapping rhythmically at the back of his hand. The tension thickened, and Finrod cautiously posed his question. "Are you ready now to divulge the name of the maiden, the very one who has cast her spell upon your heart?" He asked.

   Aegnor maintained silence for a moment as his squinting gaze fixed upon him. "You are nervous, Finrod," he remarked. Aegnor was no fool; Finrod could not deceive him, and he was foolish to believe he ever could. Finrod released a heavy sigh. His hair shimmering like moonlight upon a field of snow, his full, plump lips tensing. 

  "I first discerned the change within you at the gathering of the Eldar and the Edain in the years passed." He began. "I noticed how lovingly you tended to Andreth. Her sway over you is remarkable, to say the least. I watched you from a far as you sat close beside her, never straying from her side. Then I witnessed you both rise to retreat to the quiet of the wood." There was a tense pause that followed. "I bore witness to all that had happened between you there after." Aegnor rose from his seat, his lip curling in rage.

  "You followed us?" He growled

  Finrod remained in his place. His steady gaze meeting Aegnor's. "Yes," he replied. "Understand Aegnor, that what I did, I did for good reason..."

  "Good reason!?" Aegnor snapped, his voice course with building rage. "What reason could you provide to justify this blatant abuse of my trust, Finrod!?" Aegnor bellowed, his anger charged the room.

  ("Sit down, Aegnor!") Finrod commanded in elvish, his words carried the weight of a calm authority. Seething still, Aegnor reluctantly obeyed his command and gradually sank back down, his furious glare burning into him.

  "You are justified in your anger toward me, my brother. Know that I never seek with a deliberation to involve myself with the matters of your heart for you above all others hold them deep. In this particular instance, it was necessary."

  "You may be the eldest Finrod!" Aegnor hissed venomously. "And you may wear even atar's own ring! But you do not hold the right to decide what is necessary in the matters of my heart!"

Finrod paused, his calm expression witnessing Aegnor's unravelling further into rage, he continued with a slow disappointed shake of his head, "The countless times I protected the love between you and Amarië! Keeping your secrets, lying to amil and atar on your behalf, however much it pained me to do these things, my love in witnessing your bliss never wavered! Here now, I stand on the precipice of a love of my own only to find your shadow cast over me, invading my privacy and meddling in my affairs!" He yelled, his white teeth bared like a cornered animal, ready to lunge. 

   Finrod sighed, and broke his gaze, seeking a moment to recover himself. "I must ascertain, beyond a shadow of doubt, the maiden you have chosen, is it Andreth?"

  Glaring sternly into Finrod's eyes, Aegnor spoke with unyielding certainty and undeniable firmness. "Without a shadow of doubt... brother!" Aegnor spat through bared teeth, "It is..."

   The confirmation hung over Finrod like a leaden cloud. His head sunk low into his chest, and a look of despondency engulfed his visage as his last facade to conceal his emotions from Aegnor shattered. Anger blazed fiercely within Aegnor as he observed Finrod's crestfallen state.

  "Be cautious, Finrod, that you do not further invoke my wrath, lest I succumb to deeds I shall surely, deeply regret!" Aegnor seethed. His hand tightened. Finrod regarded him slowly as Aegnor's fortitude was tested to its limit. 

  "You show caution, Aegnor, that you do not make threats toward me! Cease the tempest that rages within you!" Finrod ordered steadily, his voice resonating with a low, commanding timbre. The profound scowl etched upon Aegnor's countenance pierced into Finrod. A mysterious darkness shadowed Aegnor's brow lending power to the profound flames that lit up his eyes. A terrifying glow that burned with such intensity never before was witnessed by Finrod. Though it did frighten him to behold such a sight, Finrod showed no fear. Then, as if caught by a sudden realization, Aegnor twitched and disengaged. Burying his head in his hand, messaging his brow.

    "So, you disapprove," Aegnor grumbled. His subdued gaze clinging to the floor. "She is no princess or maiden of high birth. She is more unlike the pompous, flittering, babbling, senseless ones you and Angrod throw at me at every hurdle!" He groaned

  "On the contrary," Finrod countered, "I hold a great fondness for her. She is after all the fore daughter of my most trusted servant and friend," Finrod replied, finally prompting Aegnor to look at him. A heavy pause hung in the air, and choosing to switch to elvish, he used their mother tongue to speak to Aegnors heart.

 ("When you came to me, to first seek my counsel, you unveiled the captive state of your heart, withholding her name from me, and I respected your silence. I presumed, brother, that this mysterious maiden belonged to our kind and not of mortal lineage. It was only through the glimpses of the intimate embrace you shared with her that fateful night that the gravity of my misjudgement unravelled before me,")

    With an icy, low growl, Aegnor responded chillingly. ("... What did you say?")

    Finrod explained on. ("The call of the feä is a phenomenon that resonates only within the Eldar. Bestowed upon us by the Valar, it is a connection that eludes the comprehension of all other races. Whether the depth of Andreth's love for you matches the fervent longing in your own heart, none can say with certainty. As Eldar, we are bound to seek out our spouses only among our own kind.")

   Aegnor, his face shrouded in an icy, vacant gaze, stared at Finrod, the pause pregnant with tension. Then, without a warning, Aegnor's leg swung out in a release of terrifying rage. His hard boot slammed beneath the small table between them, upturning it in a loud sudden crash. He sprung to his feet, his teeth and jaw clenching tightly.

   "Not only do you abuse and disregard my feelings, now you seek to insult me by calling into question the legitimacy of Andreth's love for me!" He roared, rejecting his brothers attempts to sooth him with elvish words, "Whether Andreth bears the blood of Eldar or the Edain, She is no less worthy a maiden in my eyes, and I discern no distinctions between our genders. Why then do you seek to erect barriers of your design to drive us apart for no reason other than the blatant bigotry in your heart!?"

   Finrod rose to his full height. His eyes thunderous and his voice deepened, resonating with authority. "You shall not besmirch my character with words that have no place in my home!" he retorted

   Aegnor's gaze darkened into a taunting glare, leaning forward, "Did it vex you, brother? To watch us in ecstasy in a heated kiss?" He hissed, his eyes narrowing, "I tasted her fully, and it pleasured her! My tongue savoured her with blissful delight!"

  "Enough of that vile talk, Aegnor!" Finrod thundered, his eyes flashing. "You are vulgar and contemptuous and bereft of the decorum of the Eldar! Once a thought takes root in your head, it consumes you, and you lose all sight of yourself! Are you utterly incapable of learning from your mistakes?" Finrod roared.

  "My mistake lies in ever placing trust in you!" Aegnor screamed, his strong, guttural roar reverberating through the air, near shaking the delicate ornaments that adorned the shelves.

   "I care not for your sentiments! Here my words, once this accursed war is over, Andreth and I shall be wed, and if you deny me a ceremonial union with her, then through our hroä's alone, we shall have it!" Aegnor spun to leave, walking toward the window. Finrod watched him, his silence heavy within the air. Aegnor stopped.

  "I do not want enmity with you, Finrod," he spoke, his voice now a fragile murmur. The light from the window cast upon him as he turned back, catching the glistening in his watery eyes. His pained countenance concealed a vast ocean of torment. "I came in hopes of celebration, that we might both rejoice in this newfound love within my heart, just as you have known... with Amarïe." Finrod's gaze descended to the ground, a profound, trembling sigh escaping his flaring nostrils, burdened with the weight of Aegnor's pain. "Must you deny me the very same desire?" Aegnor quivered, his steely grey eyes glistening in the light. 

  "Is this truly what you desire Aegnor?" Finrod asked, lifting his gaze. "Forsaking all our customs should you choose this path, knowing the consequences a physical union bereft of ceremony will bring? To cast aside your entire kin, every soul that loves you like a burdensome pebble thrown to the relentless waves, all for the sake of this love?"

   Aegnor sighed deeply, his gaze averted, as if deeply contemplating the depth of his words. "Know that it is not a decision I make lightly, for I alone bear its heavy cost. I love you, but I must follow the call of my heart, even as it breaks me to part ways from you and from Angrod. There is no other way for me. No matter how it pains me to speak these words."

   Finrod sighed mournfully, his brow wrinkled with profound sadness, "If that is what you truly feel... then I know not even my words can reach you now." He slowly turned from him, his head hung low with deep sorrow. 

   "Finrod... please!" Aegnor's voice, coarse with anguish croaked. "I can no longer live like this! This burning longing, this vast emptiness that consumes my beaten heart! All my life, I have served you with no desire for return, I have done all that you have asked of me! Why are you doing this!? It is not fair!!" He cried, his face wet with tears. "Why must you punish me so cruelly?" His voice had waned to but a fragile crack. Desperate for Finrod's acceptance. The sound was too agonising for Finrod to bear and he turned back around once more, his eyes finding Aegnor's. His narrow cheeks wet with heavy tears. Aegnor crumbled before him, the agony in his face pleading with Finrod. His head hung in defeat, he slowly turned back to the window just as tears gushed from his eyes as his quiet sobs echoed like thunder claps between them.

   "Dry your eyes and follow me," Finrod finally replied with remarkable steadiness. "There is something I want to show you." He swiftly left, leaving Aegnor alone. With a heavy sniff and trembling breaths Aegnor did as he was asked and wiped away his flooding tears, taking a moment to collect himself. He then slowly followed his brother's lead out of the dim room and into the darkness of his caved palace.

Awakening

Aegnor followed behind as Finrod led him deeper into his dark dwelling, brightly illuminated by beautiful statues of elves of both genders holding torches of fire. They stopped at a large archway that held two doors. Commanding the armoured guards to step aside, which they responded with prompt obedience, they opened the doors simultaneously and allowed Finrod inside, followed by Aegnor pacing nonchalantly behind. The guards closed the doors behind them, and alone, the brothers were immediately shrouded in darkness. 

   Their feet were met with an immediate twisting staircase that descended down deeper. Their keen eye sight navigated the stone staircase. "Why this secrecy? Where are you taking me?" Aegnor demanded in annoyance. 

   Finrod's voice measured replied, "Be patient, Aegnor, all shall be revealed in due time. Now, come, stay close by my side." Finrod's words echoed through the hollow staircase as they descended. 

   At the foot of the winding steps, Finrod retrieved a torch from the wall, casting a warm glow upon their faces. Trinkets and ornaments were scattered haphazardly about, a testament to Finrod's long-standing fondness for collecting curious objects. Aegnor could not help but feel a twinge of nostalgia, remembering his youthful explorations of Finrod's private chambers in Tirion, where he would mischievously rearrange his brother's possessions. To Finrod, his collections were considered his sanctuary. But to Aegnor, it was a messy, disorganised hoard of objects that needed tidied up. Finrod led Aegnor through the labyrinthine, tapestry-lined corridors, and their footfalls resounding. Suddenly, a clanking sound startled them.

  "Ah, Finrod!" Aegnor roared, delivering a penalty kick to the offending object that had tripped him. It crashed against the wall, shaking the very air around them. His brow furrowed in annoyance. "I tire of this game! When will you learn to keep your household in order, lest it succeed in breaking my neck?"

   Finrod sighed, a touch of weariness in his voice. "When will you learn to control your rage, Aegnor?"

   At last, they reached the gaping maw of a great cavern. Aegnor's breath caught in his throat at the sight before him. Within the dark depths, a small island of rock stood surrounded by a luminescent pool. Glowing cave flowers of blue and purple hues adorned the rock and cascaded over the ebony walls, casting an otherworldly radiance. Aegnor's eyes fell upon a large, white quartz casket, its lid bearing intricate carvings and a golden plate with an inscription. 

  "Do you know whose remains lay here?" Finrod asked, his gaze fixed upon Aegnor.

   Aegnor studied the casket, memories stirring within him. "A mortal," he replied simply.

  "You are correct," Finrod said, his voice tinged with sorrow. "You knew him well, Aegnor. He was also the one to bestow upon you the knowledge and language of his people, that you may converse with them freely as you do now. Beör, my dearest companion. He was the first among men I encountered, and he is the ancestor of Andreth."

   Aegnor's eyes softened as recollections of Beör flooded his mind - the man's gentle smile, his love of nature, his curious spirit. "I remember him.." Aegnor whispered, his lips curling into a bittersweet smile. "He found such joy in the sway of trees and the light of dawn."

   Finrod nodded solemnly. "Beör passed within the walls of my kingdom, his health succumbing to the ravages of mortal ailments. His fate is the burden that all men must bear - the fading of the light within them."

   Aegnor's gaze lingered upon the casket, his heart heavy with the weight of Finrod's words. "Then Andreth's spirit carries the very essence of this noble soul," he murmured, admiration dawning in his eyes. "No wonder our bond is so profound.."

  "Do you not see the toils that plague the Youngar? The curse of death and weariness that lurks before them?" Finrod asked, desperately searching for Aegnor's understanding.

   Aegnor shrugged, "Do we not also suffer toil, Finrod? By fall of sword or poison? Do we not also experience death, same as they?"

   Finrod sighed. "Alas, this is true, yet Aegnor, why is it that Andreth's ancestors are all absent while Andreth roams the world, live and well?" Finrod asked. A sudden shift hit Aegnor. He stared at the casket, his eyes squinting, deep in a chasm of his thoughts. "A mortal's lifespan is but a fleeting blink in our eyes. Like a bloom that grows from the ground, its splendour in full light of the moon, only to wither by the rise of the morning sun. Andreth will meet the same fate as Beör like all his descendants after him." The gentle hum of the torch held between them echoed in the silence, its dancing light reflecting off their faces. "There is no power that can alter this course, my brother,"

   Aegnor stared at Finrod. His words hung between them like a dense, suffocating cloud. "Her spirit will fade until she too is beset by the ravages of old age, her strength and beauty never returning with passing of time. And that time is very short indeed."  Finrod murmured.

  "I care not for the loss of her beauty! nor the fading of her strength!" Aegnor exclaimed, his voice edging with sorrow. "When she can no longer see, my eyes shall be hers. When her feet fail her, it is my legs that will carry her. I would care for her as though she was my own child! Surely, our love will still remain!"

  "Have you considered her feelings, Aegnor? Do you truly believe that Andreth would not suffer the shame of growing old alone while you, her own husband, retain your youth and vigour, untouched by age? Will she not continuously worry that your love for her will dissolve, the indignity of relying on your care, while her independent spirit still stokes its fierce flame?" Finrod replied softly. Aegnor was stunned silent. "Her lifespan may not even surpass the end of the siege," Finrod added.

   Aegnor took a step back, his face riddled with confusion and slow realisation. "Then surely she will go to Mandos for healing!" Aegnor cried. "She will be made anew, and we will find one another again!" Desperate hope clung to his countenance, his eyes pleading with Finrod's.

  "Nay Aegnor," he replied sorrowfully, his eyes equally glistening with unshed tears. "For the feä of mortals are fated to go west, blown by the wind of Erú Illuvatar, to a place that is hidden from the Eldar and nigh return henceforth."  Aegnor stepped backwards, his horror taking hold,

  "Finrod..," he muttered, dispair gripping his very core. Suddenly, the words came flooding from him in a single, anguished rush. "You were the one that said our feä's never error in their choice! You told me!" He cried, his desperate eyes flooding with tears. Looking to Finrod, his sharp whimpers cut through the air. "What must I do!? Brother!" Aegnor cried, his voice tapering into dispair."Tell me what I must do!"

    The painful lump in a Finrod's throat tightened. "For the sake of her happiness, allow Andreth to choose another from her own kind, and return never to her side,"

    Within Aegnor's vacant, frozen stare, Finrod heard the cracks begin to split the walls of his brothers mind. The last tendrils of sanity shattering like brittle glass. Within his eyes, Finrod witnessed his very foundations crumpling to rubble before his very eyes. Slowly, with great care, he extended a gentle hand to Aegnor, as if to figuratively grasp to what ever remained of his brother in that fragile monent, desperate to save him from total collapse. Suddenly, Aegnor ran from him, fleeing into the darkness.

     The echoes Finrod's desperate attempt to recall his brother to the safety of the light went unheard in Aegnor's ears as he ran for what seemed like his entire lifetime. Aegnor was shrouded in thick darkness as his footsteps drummed through the corridors. Unable to see, unable to hear. He ran until an object splayed haphazardly on the ground tripped the elf, sending him flying through the air and landing with a hard crash upon the unforgiving stone floor. 

   The pain in his body from such a deadly fall rattled his very bones as he struggled up from tge floor. His voice bubbling into soft wimpers of agony, but it was quickly quelled by a searing rage that boiled from his veins. Aegnor seized the offending object and launched it against the wall. It shattered on impact and scattered around the ground. He grabbed then another, and it met the same fate. He ripped tapestries and banners that hung from the walls. Candelabras, he smashed into the ground with unadulterated might. The thunderous crashes of objects mixed with unholy roars and wails of devastating horror and rage. Suddendly, Aegnor was quelled by the arms of Finrod who had siezed him from behind, holding his brothers body against his as Aegnor succumed to the grief that swamped his entire body in final, peircings scream of devastating sorrow, sinking to the ground.

   Wrapped in Finrod's embrace, Aegnor wailed upon the floor. His ferocious sobs flooded the spacious passageway, shrounded in cold, darkness amounst the desolation Aegnor had wrought. His screams as the agony of a love denied him tore him asunder until there was no more power in his voice and no more tears in his eyes. 

   In the deafening silence. Aegnor lay. His eyes dulled of light and red with tears. His fragile expression and vacant stare haunted the space where they lay. Finrod, a comforting present, sat behind. His arms still wrapped around his brother. 

   "I will never walk again among the meadows with love in my heart, nor will I feel the touch of happiness. For what love has brought me, I would never welcome its embrace again." Aegnor whispered, his voice raw and coarse.

  At that moment, he uttered his final vow, "I will go to the halls, a place far from the world and her memory, and never will I return again,"

   With those sombre words, Aegnor's eyes closed, and he surrendered to the comfort of sleep. His fire extinguished completely. Finrod, his heart deep in the abyss of despair, cradled his precious siblings limp body. His tears flooded, and Finrod wept quietly. His huffs and sniffs ghost through the echoes of the lonely sanctuary.

○○○

   Upon the pinnacle of a cliff, a solitary Andreth perched serenely, her hair gracefully wisped away by the furious breeze. A light smile played upon her lips. She opened the book in her hand. Pressed in its pages, the flower Aegnor had given her, his promise to her. 

  She turned her dark head towards the trees behind her as the soft thudding of hooves drew closer, an elf with bright hair. Her heart swelled with excitement. Her face pulled into a dazzling grin as she shot to her feet. Her white dress is billowing in the wind. 

  "It is him! He has come! He has kept his promise!"

   As he drew closer and his face became clearer, it was not Aegnor. Her grin faded and was replaced by a look of confusion as Finrod gained ground upon her. He came to her with a wave of grimness. He appeared as though he had not known a days rest. Slowly, she bowed.

   "Lord Finrod, what brings you to me?" She asked

   Finrod's sad eyes cast to the ground. "Lady Andreth, I have sought you out on behalf of those I love." She gazed at him silently, her smile fading. Finrod, his face grim and tired, added," I am aware of the affections shared between my brother and you and of the pledge you made to one another. I have come to tell you that you are forthwith released of the vows you spoke to one another, and you are free to make them to another. I am sorry," he bowed briskly and turned without another word.

   "My lord?" She called out, he stopped. "Is he safe and well?" 

   Finrod turned. "Aegnor is safe." He replied 

   "Would you deliver a message for me?" She asked calmly. Finrod sighed and waited.

   "Please tell him... " she paused, "To be well." 

   After Finrod had rode away. She stood there in the sun. The wind billowing in her hair and flowing dress. Her book clasped in her hands slowly slipped out and unfirled upon the ground. The wind flicked the pages, and from its folds, the pressed white bloom blew out, carried away in its breath. 

   Slowly, she sank down upon her knees. Her eyes shimmered, and the tears pooled, making droplets upon her splended white gown. She looked upon the heavens. Their swirling grey clouds met her gaze with an ominous canopy, and the cold spashes of rain kissed her face. Images of Aegnor flashed through her mind in rapid motion, his voice whispering into her ear, until they culminated in the memory of his soft kiss and she released a roar of utter despair toward the heavens and the sobs burst from her. She cried and wailed as the rain came lashing down. Her rage manifested in the rainstorm that engulfed her as her heart shattered into a million pieces.

   And so, as the years came to pass. Andreth would write countless letters to Aegnor, hoping one would reach him. Letters of love, letters of rage, each one went unanswered. There came not a single word from him, and her dispair at his cruelty toward her grew evermore, and she found no respite.

○○○

   A dark, gloomy shadow cast over Aegnor since his awakening in Nargothrond, forever altering his once vibrant heart. Laughter vanished from him, replaced by a haunting emptiness that swallowed him. His words were scarce and fleeting. He ignored the sons of Feänor, their cruel taunts going unchallenged and unanswered. His spirit, completely shattered. Angrod, deeply troubled with his fallen brothers depression, tirelessly endeavoured to comfort him. unaware of the reasons for Aegnor's inner turmoil, but nothing helped, for Aegnor's heart was utterly broken.

   Not content with his misery, he threw himself in the relentless pursuit of his foes, throwing himself recklessly into the heart of battle and their vicious hordes. Employing the most brutal methods, he honed his skills, evolving into a figure far more brutal and ruthless than anyone could have fathomed each blow he struck unleashed his pent-up rage, offering him fleeting solace in the wake of their screabs if agony or in the mere hope that even one of their blades would peirce his body, finally bringing him release. 

   When not consumed by fury and brutality, Aegnor distracted himself with wine, drinking excessively until his mind and body would falter into unconsciousness, and there he would lie for many days. He withdrew himself, succumbing to the lonely cries of his tormented mind, recklessly drowning his anguish with each intoxicating gulp. Angrod was helpless to save his brother. For he was working to hasten his death and leave this world and his pain behind.

○○○

Nargothrond

400 A.D

   Finrod found solace in the seclusion of his chambers, seated upon the floor amidst a plush array of scattered cushions. The comforting warmth of the crackling fire enveloped him, its flickering light casting dancing shadows upon the walls. Deep in thought, his wearied spirit sought respite from the burdens of the day. The gentle melody of a nearby waterfall floated through the air, accompanied by the soft hum of the fire, creating a soothing symphony that eased his troubled mind.

   Yet peace eluded him, his heavy thoughts interrupted by a gentle rap on his chamber door. He beckoned its maker to enter. His steward came into his view. In his outstretched hands, a silver plate held a missive.

   "My lord," he spoke. "Pardon for intruding upon this late hour. I have received a letter intended for your brother from the lady Andreth. As per your instruction, it has been delivered directly to you."

   "Thank you," Finrod replied sadly, gently lifting it from the plate. Left alone once more, Finrod held the sealed envelope delicately, its weight heavy with many words.

   It had been many, many long years since he had seen a letter, but its contents would never be seen by Aegnor's eyes. In a solemn movement, Finrod placed the letter upon the bed of the fire, watching with vacant eyes as the flames devoured it. It curled and turned black as it burned. Mirroring the fate of all the letters that had come before it, shielding Aegnor's heart from further torment. He watched coldly until it was reduced to flakes of ash and soot. His heart, numb with dispair.

Ladros  

445 A.D

Farewell, my true love.

   In the hearth's warm embrace, a fair haired woman of middle age carefully arranged logs upon the crackling fire, casting a soft, glow that lit the room. Only a few lines adorned her eyes. A testament to a life well-lived and enjoyed to the full. Standing behind her, her elderly aunt exuded a dignified presence, while long, unbound strands of silver tresses stretched neatly past her shoulders and downs her back. Time had etched its mark upon Andreth, with furrows of weariness and faded beauty adorning her brow. Yet, her eyes, though dimmed by the passage of years, still retained a hint of vibrant life. And her serene smile bespoke an enduring gratitude towards her beloved niece. Delicate, vein-laden hands clutched a walking stick, guiding her slow, deliberate steps towards the bed.

  "Tonight, dear aunt, you shall find solace in the warmth of the hearth," the rich voice of her niece graced the room with a tender reverence. Placing a supportive hand upon the elderly woman's back, she gently guided her towards the waiting bed. With hands that trembled, she handed over her cane, and beneath the covers, the elderly lady eased herself with a groan of weariness, her tired bones creaking and clicking with long life's use. Slowly, she settled down, allowing her slender, fragile body respite from the burdens of age.

  "This winter has proven to be exceptionally severe. At times, I had believed it might be my last," She jested. Her wit as sharp as ever.

  "You have countless winters yet to witness," Hirwen laughed softly, carefully tucking in the sheets and adjusting the pillow with tender care. "You shall not depart from us soon!"

  "Draw near, Hirwen, allow me to behold your face," Andreth beckoned, extending her shaking hand out. Yielding to her aunt's request, she gracefully descended to her knees beside her. "Ah, indeed, you are fair as the winter snow." She murmured. "I only wish your mother could have known you." 

  "My true mother, Variel?" She asked and turned sad, "Father never did speak of her, even after he had remarried and had many more children," she added sadly, her gaze descending sorrowfully to the ground. "How I wish I knew what she looked like," she sighed wistfully.

   Andreth smiled upon her beloved niece, who had been like a daughter to her, "You need not look far, child," she said, cradling her face in her shaking aged hand. "You have her likeness, how she warmed my heart when I was a young woman, with the wind in my hair and a fire in my spirit. Now look at me, a withering old lady. There was no fear in her eyes in her final hours. It is in such a manner that I aspire to meet my own demise," 

  "You still possess immense strength within you," Hirwen insisted.

  "Child," Andreth replied. "I am the last scion of my noble house. Soon, I shall join my mother and father, brother, and sister in the next world, as sure as the winds of change," Andreth replied weakly, her gaze locked with Hirwen's eyes "I welcome this next journey, and when I pass, I shall finally have peace for my poor heart, burdened with old age and longings, long gone."

   Hirwen rose and turned away. Wiping away a solitary tear. Hidden from Andreths gaze. "When you speak such things, I can not bear it," she croaked.

  "I shall miss you deeply, my child," Andreth whispered. Slowly, Hirwen turned to the only mother she had ever known and leaned in. She placed a tender kiss upon her warm brow. 

  "Sleep well, beloved aunt," she whispered and turned up the sheets. After placing a few more logs onto the cosy fire, Hirwen left with a gentle sweep of the door. 

   In solitude, Andreth gently cast aside the covers enveloping her lap, and with a determined grip on her walking aid, slowly elevated herself once again. Limping towards the window, she unlatched the shutters, allowing her gaze to venture into the night. The frigid air pierced her very bones, eliciting an instinctive recoil, yet even the biting gusts failed to dissuade her. The wind, in its capricious dance, playfully swathed her flowing tresses. Like a spectral figure graced by the night's embrace, she stood as the breeze tenderly caressed her weathered flesh. Her watery eyes traversed the horizon as she inhaled deeply, savouring a liberating breath.

   The melancholic smile etched upon her face, and she summoned the visions of her youthful days. Those moments spent basking in the sun's warm embrace, her steed saddled between her legs, carefree and unburdened. Alas, those days seemed a distant memory now. In that fleeting instant of clarity, his face haunted her thoughts once more. His eyes, intense with fire, burned their gaze into her mind.

   She covered her face with trembling hands, surrendering her thoughts to the wayward winds. Despite the pain and sadness she was made to endure for so long, still, her heart pined for him. Her lips still desired his. She wept into her palms, mourning the life that should have been hers, snatched away.

    On this fateful night, the stars bestowed upon her a spectacle surpassing all earthly beauty, wrenching her mind from its depths of desolation. A surge of thousands or more stars streaked across the ebony canvas, an ethereal ballet of luminous trails. Shooting over her head. Transfixed, her weathered lips stretched into a wide grin, as the night sky came to life, enveloping her in an embrace of wonder and awe. 

    Beneath the vast expanse of the heavens, the same spectacle of stellar radiance also graced the skies above Angband. Standing alone upon the towering ramparts, Aegnor, with a solemn gaze, beheld the cosmic display of celestial beauty unfurling before him. The very atmosphere surrounding Angband, tainted by noxious fumes, altered the light emanating from the blanket of shooting stars, transforming the heavens into a resplendent display of captivating, shooting colours. A cloak of thick warm fur draped over his suit of armour, Aegnor observed them in profound silence. In his vacant eyes, he shed his anguished tears.

  "If she was destined to be mine... why could it not just be so?"

   Unable to hold back his tears, he unleashed his feä to the heavens, offering it freely to the Valar, beseeching them to relieve him of its burden. 

   As if propelled by a force, it burst forth from his very being. Radiant wisps of brilliant blue light soared like a celestial torpedo towards the lofty expanse of the sky, unseen by all save for the watchful gaze of Ilúvatar, who took notice of its brilliance. The feä ignited with its resplendent light, compelling the darkness to yield. Weightless, it lingered in the air as if yearning to traverse the horizons. It was the anguished cry of a lonesome feä, never to be joined in with its true love.

    Gazing upon the stars, Andreth found her mind ensnared by a sense of wonder, yet suddenly, seized by an overwhelming sadness that utterly engulfed her, surging through her with an intensity that defied comprehension. Clutching her chest, she surrendered herself to uncontrollable weeping, the weight of this mysterious sorrow not solely her own, but her true love's, Aegnor was reaching for her. Hearts condemned to be a part, weeping as one, Yearning for the other's touch.

   In that poignant moment, the realization washed over her—the truth she had been blind to for all those years revealed, — Aegnor loved her with all his heart, and his absence was not of his own choice. 

   Her heart swelled with love once more. Revitalising her as it did in the days of her youth. Hearts beating as one once more. As if carried upon the wind, her feä voice reached the ears of her beloved elf beneath the shower of stars, across the vast terrain that separated them.

  "I love you, always," 

   Aegnor raised his head toward the heavens from his anguished stupor, and his extreme sadness gave way to unparalleled joy that flowed from him and he smiled toward the wind. The same throws of joy burst through her also. As the wind dared to knock her down, Andreth was unyielding like a statue. The strength she felt from his feä pouring into her in a fleeting moment of connection after so long apart, and Aegnor felt the comfort from hers. 

    Like a fleeting ghost, the winds subsided, and all returned as though it never was. But both Andreth and Aegnor shared one final moment of their love. Though fleeting, it revitalised them and reassured them. Their love ever strong and never fading. 

○○○

Ladros

454 A.D

   Immersed in a state of bedridden suffering, Andreth laid upon her back, nestled in the embrace of her bed, basking in the depths of a deep slumber. Her vigour had waned completely, leaving her bereft of all strength. Only the gentle rise and fall of her chest betrayed any semblance of vitality within her frail form. As her life dwindled to a thread, her cherished memories followed suit, fading into oblivion.

   Within the confines of the chamber, the firelight danced with spectral ardour, casting undulating shadows that shielded against the night's wintry chill. Andreth found solace within the realm of her dreams. There, the shackles of pain relinquished their hold. Having embraced life's fullness, contentment washed over her as she awaited the imminent arrival of her eternal end.

   Amidst the stillness, a dark figure loomed at the window's threshold, casting a large silhouette upon the room. With an ethereal grace, it ascended over the pane, descending upon the ground with a hushed footfall, as if treading upon sacred ground.

   Once within the chamber, a sense of unease manifested in each deliberate movement. With a measured intent, the figure drew back his hood. unveiling the beauty of the face concealed within. Fixated upon Andreth, the figure's expression bore the burdens of many mournful regrets. Driven by a need to see her one last time. An unmistakable crown of golden locks adorned the figure's head. 

   With measured and deliberate steps, Aegnor drew nearer, his gaze unwavering as it fell upon the fragile figure before him. Her pale, thin hands lay tenderly upon her body. A blanket of lavender lay on her chest. A gift from her beloved elf to mark her birth. Nestled within its folds, another treasure stirred his heart—a glint of a moonstone hilt wrapped in vines of silver and gold. 

  Aegnor reached and gently touched her hand, but she did not stir. She had not even the strength to lift her eyes, to behold the eyes of her true love one last time. He sank down upon the bed where she lay, seated on the side. His eyes pouring into her. Her hair, once raven tresses, white like the dove. Her face is melancholy serenity. Her slumbering form is still as the night air.

  "Beloved?" his gentle whisper called to her. Yet not even his voice could rouse her. Aegnor turned away, unable to bear the sight of her so frail.

  "Andreth," he muttered. "I am in pain," His shaking breath escaped him. His numb heart beaten by the years her separation has inflicted upon him. He continued, "I sense an impending doom upon my horizon. The time of my own death, draws nigh,"  a pause lingered heavy with deep sadness, "This... is my parting goodbye, my sweet and most beloved friend," he croaked. His voice was broken with anguish.

   Slowly, Aegnor untied the cross lace at his neck and reached within. From his clothing, he removed his silver, pendant necklace, a gift from his mother, and had never parted from his skin henceforth. He gently placed it on her breast, upon her heart. With these final gifts, he surrendered all his earthly possessions that had once held deep significance to him.

   As his tears fell, he leaned forward, lowering his lips to her face. His lips touched hers as she lay beneath him. He lingered. The sweet kiss unbreaking between them. The bittersweet farewell to his saviour, and his love. Reluctantly, Aegnor rose, his hood casting a shadow over his tense face. His gaze lingered upon Andreth's still form one last time.

   Silently slipping away through the window, his movements as soft as a whisper in the night, Aegnor left behind the santuary of his heart, close to his beloved. Never to lay eyes upon her again.

○○○

 Angband

Dagor Bragollach

455 A.D.

   The ears of the elves were violated by the sudden deafening explosion eliciting a piercing scream to all unfortunate enough to hear it. A pillar of flames mixed with gas surged thousands of feet into the air. Alerted, Aegnor and Angrod made their way to the vantage point upon the wall only to be faced with a harrowing sight, the lifeless bodies of their fallen comrades, poisoned by the toxic fumes that had breached their defences. Coughing violently from the gasses, the brothers retreated into the sanctuary within the walls and readied for battle. Sending a messenger to Nargothrond, they called for Finrod's aid for Morgoth had returned. The messenger galloped with speed, hastening in his mission as Angrod and Aegnor prepared their soldiers for a great and foreboding battle.

    Orcs surged forth from the fiery crater, swarming across the vast plain of Angband, marching in their thousands toward the elven wall that guarded Dorthonion. The resounding roars and rhythmic thumping of metal created a terrifying spectacle, but Aegnor and Angrod stood firm, rallying their army. They were accompanied by wolves, their loyal companions forged through years of enduring the siege. With unwavering courage, they instilled order in their ranks and bolstered the spirits of their warriors.

    The clash erupted with a ferocity that was both violent and brutal. Malevolent black fireballs, akin to torpedoes, hurtled towards the majestic walls, shattering their defences into heaps of rubble and dust. A relentless tide of orcs surged into the realm, leaving a trail of elven slaughter in their wake. However, amidst the chaos, the fear that Aegnor instilled in the hearts of the orcs held them at bay. He fought tirelessly, driven by a blazing inferno of determination that surpassed all reason. Valiantly, he shielded his soldiers from the worst of the onslaught.

   The elf prince stood as an unwavering bastion of desolation and strength, urging the elven warriors onward. With indomitable spirit, he pushed them back against the overwhelming forces arrayed against them. Having triumphed over the first wave of orcs, the elven lords rallied their brethren to the vast expanse of the open plain. In a display of unison, the elven army swiftly regained their disciplined formation, aligning their ranks with precision. Guided by the formidable leadership of the princes, Angrod and Aegnor, they charged together in a breathtaking, mighty display of defiance in the face of impending doom.

   In the dark lord's ultimatum of submission or death, the elves of Dorthonion had chosen death, standing united in their undeterred resolve to meet their end as one. Arrows and searing torrents of fire mercilessly descended upon them, unleashed by the soaring dragons ominously dominating the skies. Towering abominations, accompanied by Balrogs and enslaved trolls, bore witness to Morgoth's meticulous preparations as he readied himself to shatter the fiery shackles that held him captive. Fully cognizant of the dire situation, Aegnor adamantly rejected surrendering his life without a valiant fight, especially while his beloved still drew breath within her lungs. He vowed to defend her existence with unwavering resolve, even if it meant his own demise. 

   As the war raged on, elves, orcs, and trolls alike were consumed by fire and smoke as the dragons and balrogs showed no partiality. Scaling the crumbling remnants of the walls, Aegnor effortlessly bounded onto the back of a thundering dragon in a swift flight, tightly gripping its rugged, scaled hide. The dragon's fury blazed as it executed daring aerial manoeuvres, defying gravity with powerful mock dives and twirls, attempting to dislodge the elf from its massive frame. Yet, with unwavering strength, Aegnor tenaciously clung to the beast, perched atop its mighty head. with a swift, precise motion, he simultaneously drove his twin knives into the beast's eyes, rendering it blind, panicked and unable to see, the Dragon lost momentum and went plummeting toward the ground in a full-scale dive. It careened into another dragon in mid-air, their wings and tails entwined. Together, they plummeted to the earth in a cataclysmic collision, their impact heralded by a deafening thunder, claiming both of their lives in an instant. 

   Aegnor was not spared from the devastating blow. Enveloped by towering walls of raging dragon flame, he mustered a feeble attempt to rise, only to be seized by searing agony coursing through his shattered form, forbidding him completely of movement. The encroaching horde of orcs closed in upon him, their overwhelming numbers threatening to snuff out his very existence. Aegnor, with a gradual acceptance of his impending fate, steeled himself to confront his ultimate demise. In the depths of his soul, a well of strength ran dry, leaving only a haunting calmness, as he prepared to face the abyss.

   Just as he surrendered his last vestige of resolve, a figure soared over his prone body, a beacon of righteous fury. Raising his weary head. Without hesitation, Angrod, akin to a vengeful spirit, launched himself at the advancing army, ruthlessly dispatching any who dared draw near, shielding his brother with a selflessness that defied all boundaries. Helpless, Aegnor bore witness to Angrod's valiant efforts, his heart torn asunder, until, with a single brutal thrust, an orc plunged a blade into Angrod's back, ripping forth a resounding cry of fierce anguish. Aegnor, his voice raised in a desperate plea for his brother, tried to rise from the ground, but his own shattered body betrayed him.

    Angrod, overwhelmed by the relentless horde, was swiftly engulfed, his form disappearing into the bloodthirsty mob, revelling in the spoils of an elf prince at their mercy. The orcs, devoid of sorrow, unleashed a frenzied storm of blades upon him, an unholy ritual of slaughter. Aegnor's anguished screams mingled with his grief as he borne witness to it all by the fiery depths that blazed within his eyes. With his body broken and his brother, his last source of strength, wrested from him, the once mighty prince now lay helpless and broken in every sense.

   Finally, the orcs ceased their butchery. Covered in Angrod's blood, their lusty eyes now turned to his brother. Who lay motionless upon the grass like a helpless lamb. The orcs advanced upon him, bringing forth the cruel and merciless demise that awaited him. Releasing a trembling sigh, Aegnor slowly rolled onto his back, his form sinking into the earth. With his gaze fixed steadfastly upon the heavens, his eyes beheld the brilliance of the stars, a radiant splendour amidst a moment plagued by chaos. In that tranquil peace, he captured the memory within his mind, shutting out all sound and sensation. Even as blow after blow was rained upon his body by the savage orcs, destroying it completely, Aegnor smiled, refusing to relinquish his consciousness. He would not grant the orcs the satisfaction of witnessing his life extinguished by their hands.

  The ebony expanse of the sky shimmered with a brilliance surpassing any he had witnessed before. He lay sprawled upon the verdant, blood-stained grass, solitary and serenely at peace. The relentless horde had long since wearied of their pursuit, abandoning the wounded elf to his fate. Crimson rivulets adorned his form. Yet, in his final moments, pain, anguish, and fear were but distant echoes. Fixing his heavy-lidded gaze upon the celestial tapestry above, he sought solace in its ethereal splendour, offering unspoken reverence. 

   As his last tethered breath whispered its farewell, a silent, tearful plea resonated within his mind, to Illuvatar and the Valar, beseeching them to remember him and his undying love for Andreth, that they might be reunited once the final note of the melody resounded, ushering in the end of time. Their union fulfilled anew within a world untainted by the constraints of this world—a love that had been unjustly denied to them.

   Aegnor finally surrendered his earthly existence, his essence ascending from his spent vessel in an iridescent azure radiance, ascending skyward into the realm of the night and mingling with the luminescence of the stars.

   As news reached Finrod's ears, he swiftly made his way to Dorthonion, only to be intercepted on his journey by yet more orcs, having almost lost his life, saved by Barahir, Bregor's own grandson, he sent a messenger who returned bearing grave tidings. The messenger brought with him a single witness to the great battle. He relayed the harrowing news of the catastrophic fight. Aegnor and Angrod fought with valiant might, defending their soldiers and one another and had successfully pushed back. Alas, their efforts had been in vain. Dorthonion had fallen to the Dark Lord, and with a heavy heart, delivered the news of the fates of his brothers whose remains now lay still, lifeless upon the battlefield.

   Overwhelmed by grief, the weight of the messenger's final words brought Finrod to his knees. In response, with utmost reverence, his soldiers journeyed onward and dutifully retrieved the broken bodies of Angrod and Aegnor, and carried them to Finrod. 

Side by side, Finrod carefully laid his brothers bodies down, his sorrowful gaze fixed upon Aegnor's face. His eyes closed in a peaceful slumber, dark lashes fanning his cheeks. His lips, ashen grey,  curved in a delicate, eternal smile. His lifeless countenance bore an expression of serene tranquillity. Devoid of pain and anguish. An expression of utter peace. 

   Finrod's bubbled into tears, mingling with the sorrow that his heart could not bear, as he pressed his lips upon Aegnor's icy, solid forehead. Never again would he hear his brothers voice or witness the intense fire within his eyes. Aegnor was was gone, his vibrant flame blown out, never to be rekindled. Beside his fallen brother, Finrod's dignified facade crumbled into mournful sobs, a poignant testament to love he bore for Aegnor.

   At that very moment, Andreth, warm in her bed, drew her final breath. Her memories of Aegnor, extinguished with her life. Within her thin, pale hands tightly clasped her treasured gifts as she embarked upon her journey to the grave. it stood as a poignant proclamation to Illuvatar, affirming that the love between Andreth and Aegnor was legitimate and transcended the boundaries of elven and mortal fates—a testament to their enduring, true love.