The Fall Of Doriath by gamil-zirak

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Grave Messages

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GRAVE MESSAGES

THE FALL OF DORIATH

MELETH NIN is Sindarin for "My love".
MELWEN is Sindarin for "Beloved".

Chapter Two...
"GRAVE MESSAGES"

The dark of night threatened to descend prematurely as the palpable gloom of vast billowing clouds filled the dull skies over Doriath. Summer storms were not a rarity in Beleriand, yet what was brewing portended a harshness of purpose; a threatening will; a violent outburst of nature in response to a grave twist of fate.
Haldir had trekked far and without rest since the dusk of yestereve, when he had left the sons of Feanor upon the slopes of Estolad. He had made his way swiftly through the forest of Region by narrow paths that cut across the lonely stretch of dense country from Arthorien, to join the main dwarf road that led to the very doors of Menegroth.

All through the night and day he had walked, only stopping once, and briefly, to revive himself by a stream. Yet his weariness came not of his physical ability as he was of the firstborn, who were tireless in labour when other races would falter. It was his disquietened mood that wore him down, for his heart was filled with a churning doubt and fearful urgency because of the grim errand he now found himself party to. He shuddered inwardly as he recollected his meeting with the two princes Celegorm and Curufin. All report of the hard and stern nature of the sons of Feanor did little justice to the truth, now that he had seen for himself how it was to be on the receiving end of their ire.

He began to question himself as to what would happen to the livelihood of the Doriathrim, now that the sons of Feanor had spoken. To what end would ensuing events lead in the matter? The Doriathrim had lived in relative peace while the rest of Beleriand was consumed by war about them. Yet of late the Sindar had known the meaning of conflict and death; sorrow and anguish; mourning and empty silence. However, beyond that grim ordeal had come hope and rebuilding, which in turn had led to faint smiles and warming hearts.

Indeed the Doriathrim had come a long way; from dwelling in the innocence of unbounded peace, to becoming a people of wary wisdom that came of grim experience. Yet their respite had been too short. Already a raging storm of confrontation threatened their newfound joy, and nature itself now seemed to portend its potential evils with a violent outburst of its own.

All through the morning, towering clouds had gathered behind Haldir in the east. As the day waned they began to advance their grey ranks, darkening the sun's fading glare as it westered, and prematurely deepening the lands shadows. He had quickened his pace, hoping to outrun the coming downpour, but by the time of dusk, the skies above him hung dim and heavy, and a quiet lay over the forest as occurs before the wild ire of a wrathful storm is loosed upon the earth.

The sighing of the brewing airs rose to an eerie howl, and the thick alder woods that pressed down upon either side of the road, creaked and groaned as their leaves shivered in the sweeping winds. The road began to rise from the flatlands to a high ridge that overlooked the sprawling vale of the Esgalduin, and the shadowy commotion of the trees came to an abrupt end as the road neared the ridge's summit. This was a high grey bald strip of craggy land that was strewn with rocks, stones and a few grey boulders all chipped and cracked.

Soon Haldir stood upon the crest of the ridge and drew his billowing cloak about him. The howling winds beat upon his ears as violent gusts swooped by, snatching browning alder leaves into its wailing airs. The blackened clouds above had long since overtaken him on their westward march, and the light of the sun faded beneath the horizon, leaving only a greying tint of narrow sky that harboured all but a few stars that twinkled mournfully at the earth, before the advancing clouds covered their failing radiance.

Haldir looked down upon the wide vista of gloom ridden forest that lay before him. The road cut into the slope of an ancient landslide, curving like a snake for two turns before disappearing under the dark leafy roof of a high shoulder of alders. It would lead down the incline for almost two miles to the eastern shore of the Esgalduin, where it crossed over a bridge to the forest of Neldoreth. Haldir looked back to the black wrath of the eastern sky and beheld a vast cloudy roof of churning anger.

He turned his sight southward, and in the same instant a terrific bolt of lightening momentarily lit up the sky like noon, throwing up the grey dome of a stony hill in stark relief that rose above the dark sea of waving trees. That was the great mound of rock under which Menegroth was built, and where he was headed, still almost six miles away. Even as his eyes blinked at the sight, there came a rushing noise that rose above the din of thunder, heralding the storm's watery downpour that swiftly turned into a falling torrent.

Down leapt the wood elf as the rain swept over him, drenching all under its widening curtain. Swiftly he was under the trees, racing down the sloping road towards the first crossing of the Esgalduin that spanned its waters some five miles north of the Bridge of Menegroth. Water now dashed beside him, flowing down from the craggy heights as swift running brooks. The swaying overhang of the trees for the most part shielded him from the lashing rain, yet the violence of the winds at times thrust the avenue's roof aside and shed the storm's wet load upon him.

The bridge suddenly loomed into view as he came flying round the last curve of the incline. Without pausing, he speedily made his way across it. Lightening flared, briefly illuminating its grey stone that seemed bare, desolate and sharply evident against the writhing confusion of the storm that raged about it. Thunder roared, the winds howled and sheets of hissing rain fell. Beneath the bridge's stone arches, the Esgalduin frothed and heaved; its shivering surface marred by the countless pock-marks of falling hail.

Up the far bank sped the wood elf, and after a quick mile he came to a branching junction. Here the road led on westward into the pouring gloom of Neldoreth, though it were somewhat narrowed. A left way maintained the dwarf road's broad importance and Haldir took this route, swerving into it in a swift dash.

Tall creaking beech trees now rose upon either side of the highway that led dead straight for about two miles before turning left again, heading back towards the river at a gentle downward slope. The gale howled eerily about him as he came on and for a fleeting moment, it seemed to him that faint cries were mingled with the wind's harsh voice. Perhaps it were the fell voices of the raging heralds of the evil fate that now accompanied Haldir's grim tidings that would trouble the counsels of Doriath.

Ahead now, and through the mounting dark and torrential rain, his squinting eyes caught the rumoured white hue of lights. As he neared the crossing, he could see the falling trails of rain, blowing this way and that in the violent winds.

The bordering thickets of trees suddenly gave way to the sprawling wet grasses of a greensward that rolled down to the western shore of the river. Beyond, rose the arching Bridge of Menegroth, whose structure shone hazily in the radiance of the silver orbs that were placed upon its supporting columns. Haldir raced down the greensward and over the bridge, his eyes catching the vague yet looming impression of the stony hill that now rose before him as a black mass above the fast approaching doors of Menegroth.

He could barely see the great white columns and carven archway under which stood the entrance to the underground realm, and he shaded his eyes as he halted just short of the eastern bank, and slowly walked towards the great entrance, ignoring the pelting rain.

"Halt!" came a voice from out of the dark. Haldir stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes roving about nervously. Yet it was impossible to see anything with the irksome rain and glaring light blinding his sight. "Who are you who comes before the Doors of Menegroth unannounced?!"

"I am an elf of Artho...," but he was interrupted by an approaching shout from behind.

"Stop the intruder!" it called, and Haldir suddenly felt rough hands seize his own, pinning them to his back.

"It would seem a little late for that now," said the first voice. "How did he come to pass you by?"

"Alright, the blame is ours," came the reply. "Yet he came flying out of the dark as if borne upon the very wings of the storm. Before any of us could say aught, he had passed our guard, and my cries to him were lost to the gale. Yet I will cede that it was our lack of vigilance that had us caught out as we had left our posts to find shelter from the rain under the beeches."

"Indeed! It is as I thought," said the first. "But let us not continue the habit of lapsing in one's duty. We may live in a time of peace, yet it must be a watchful peace all the same. The safety of the Girdle upon which we long relied is no more. Anyone, be he friend or foe can now enter into our realm unbidden. Take heed of that!"

"I understand," replied the second. "Pray pardon our misconduct," he implored.

"It is forgiven as no harm is done," said the first. There was a slight pause and a shadow revealed itself between Haldir's eyes and the light. "Now answer my question stranger. Who are you?" the voice continued, now embodied as a tall hooded silhouette.

"I am an elf of Arthorien, and I am come on an urgent errand to the king." said Haldir.

"What then is the purpose of your errand, and who sent you?" asked the guard.

"Please!" said Haldir with a little agitation. "Your apparent suspicion of strangers serves Doriath well in this time of watchful peace, no doubt. Yet you would serve the realm even better if you would at least see me out of this downpour as I am nearly soaked through, and yet have on me an important letter for the king."
There was another pause, and Haldir could feel the guards suspicious eyes curiously regarding him.

Finally the first said, "Very well! You seem harmless enough, though I have yet to know of the tidings you bring. Follow me therefore to our guardroom where a warm fire awaits. There you will answer my questions while you dry off."

The guard turned and walked forward to the great round oaken door that sealed a large cave-like opening. Haldir could barely make him out in the rain as he stood for a moment with his right palm held flat against its centre. The wood elf fancied he heard the guard mutter some softly spoken words, or an incantation maybe.

Perhaps it was so, for the massive door soundlessly divided in the middle and swung inwards, revealing a well made tunnel of cavernous proportion. Its smooth sides were a shining white, upon which ornate golden traceries of marvellous design were spread. The sloping corridor was richly lit with fiery torches and silver lanterns that hung from the walls upon holders of gold cast that were made in the likeness of winding serpents with twinkling jewelled eyes.

Without turning, the guard motioned to Haldir. "Follow!" he said, and the wood elf was gently nudged forward by the guard behind him. They passed out of the rain, under the archway and through the doors. Haldir had reached Menegroth...

                                                        ~oOo~

Dior sat now in his chamber as a king who is content with his kingdom, whose power is at rest, and whose people dwelt in gentle bliss. All seemed well, yet a flitting sense of unease had crept into his heart of late that was to him a faint chill in the warm sun, and a far off shadow upon a bright horizon. What it foreboded he could not yet fathom, but the unease of it grew in him as the days went by.

However, he now had his family with him, and it were at joyful times such as these when the shadow would recede and give him peace for a while. Beside him sat Nimloth with their daughter Elwing cradled in her arms. Before him were his twin sons, playing at their child-like ease. He looked upon Elured and Elurin with great pride, for though they were young, being of eight summers, they were a wonder to all in Doriath as they were matured for their age, and both held the distant promise of becoming great lords of the Sindar.

Elured was the elder and like his mother in appearance. He was fair haired and wide eyed and was quiet of mood, being less apt to talk and seldom inclined to laughter. Yet it was his trait to listen to the speech of others, and afterwards searchingly question minds in a bid to understand purposes. Indeed, "Celeglhaw" (Quick Ears) was a name given to him by many, though "Saelcund" (Wise Prince) was much used.

Elurin the younger was however like his father in appearance, being dark haired and fairer of face than his elder brother. His mood was more jovial, being swift in speech and quick to laughter. His young delight was in the knowledge of all things tutored to him, be it the long histories of Beleriand or the few tales of Aman that had come down to the Sindar through their Noldorin brethren, or Melian the Maiar. He was at times called "Baranauth" (Eager Thought) by those close to him, or "Maencund" (Clever Prince) by his tutors.

Yet Elwing the youngest was a child of the very likeness of Luthien Tinuviel, her foremother. She had graced the world for only three summers, yet already had the same long dark tresses, the same smile that brought joy to all who were bequeathed its pleasure, and the same dark beauty that promised to resemble that which only gifted elf minstrels could recall in glorious song. Indeed, the flame of Elwing's beauty as she wore the Silmaril at such times as Dior adorned her, was the wonder of all Doriath. It eased the peoples hearts to know that there was one who was of Luthien's beauty in female form, who still graced their land. She was therefore called "Luthieniell" (Luthien's Daughter) by most or "Bainrin" (Beautiful Queen).

Nimloth looked up from her daughter who lay asleep in her arms. She turned to Dior and observed him staring warmly at their sons. It pleased her to see him so, as his mood had been somewhat sullen of late, as if he were troubled in thought. Yet she had failed to see what could possibly worry him as all seemed well.

"Meleth nin," she said softly. "Of late you have not been yourself as something seems to trouble you. I thought you would sooner share your worry with me, yet you have not said aught. Therefore I would speak first and ask what ails you?"

Dior turned to his wife. "What would I say to you Nimloth? I cannot answer for I myself know not the reason for the persistent shadow that has afflicted me. Long have I pondered on what it might be, but I have neither dreamt of aught to warn me, nor has foresight been granted to guide me." He slowly shook his head as his face darkened with doubt. "Yet I do not know," he said in a low voice. "I almost fear for our continued bliss here in Doriath!"

Nimloth's face darkened too as she instinctively held Elwing closer, as if guarding her child from the imagined woes her husband now portended. Unease crept into her heart and she turned her troubled gaze to her sons, innocent and delighting in their play. A grave fear now arose in her for their safety but Dior saw her apparent distress and took her hand in a comforting gesture.

"Do not worry melwen," he said with a disarming smile. "It could be nothing but foolish fears. Our people and realm have never been better, and we are blessed with the wholesome power of the Silmaril in our midst. All shall be well!"

But Nimloth was far from comforted, for when he spoke of the Silmaril, a sharp chill passed over her heart that almost made her shudder. The thought now came to her that perhaps it were not so good that the jewel had returned to them. A growing dread now arose in her heart that whatever ill would come to Doriath, would be because of that work of Feanor.

"Indeed it is strange that you should feel so troubled when all is good under your reign," she said to her husband. "Yet I will admit to a chill that passed over my heart's happiness when you mentioned the Silmaril, and that troubles me all the more. However, I will not look too deeply into what that may yet mean to me, but I would take back my words to you when the jewel first came to us. 'Receive it now in hope,' I said then, but woe be to us if the jewel has us pay for the light and joy it has so far given, by bringing darkness to Doriath once more!"

Her words were grim and Dior sighed, noting that he would not have his usual peace of mind in the presence of his beloved family.

He was about to say more in a bid to soothe his wife's darkened mood when he saw Elured leave his play and come towards him. He turned back to Nimloth and saw her suppress her newfound fears with a forced smile at her son's approach. Soon the young prince stood before the king's chair with a questioning look upon his face.

"Father," he said. "I have been given many names, yet I would ask what Aranhil means as I am called that by many of our people?"

"You are the eldest of my children Elured," answered Dior with a smile, "and are therefore held to be the 'King's Heir' and next in line to the throne. But that title is not far from the meaning of the name I gave to you, which is 'Heir of Elu'."

"Yet why should I be held as the next in line to the throne if you are already king?" Elured asked. He paused for a moment, then a sudden look of distress came over his young face. "Unless you are to leave us! Where are you going father?"

"I am not going anywhere my son," Dior replied. "At least not as far as I can see. Yet know that I too was named heir of Thingol, your great grandsire who is now gone."

Elured looked aside with his young brow creased in thoughtfulness. After a moment he turned away, apparently answered. But suddenly he halted and turned back to his father.

"That is something I have always heard and yet wondered," he said. "For where did he go? I have heard people say in sadness that Thingol our long king is no more, and lord Haradion says our great grandsire has passed away. Yet he will say no more whenever I further question him as to what that means. Will you not tell me father? Did he tire of ruling Doriath and so left it to you? And if he did, where does he now live, and why does he not come to visit us, or we go to visit him?"

Dior looked at his son gravely. So it was with Saelcund who was ever prone to ask the searching questions that had no easy answers.

"To your first question I would say nay Elured, he did not tire of ruling Doriath. He was a mighty king who was revered and adored by all. He would never have tired from ruling the people he loved and the realm he cherished. Yet in answer to your second question I would say that it is true he still left us.

For he passed on to his long home in the West. But know that once you are called hither, you cannot refuse the summons whether you would or no. And when you are gone you cannot come back, for it is very, very far away. And so are we also unable to visit him in return."

Elured remained silent, his eyes wide with a stare of distant contemplation, but Elurin, who had been listening in the wings, stepped forward.
"The West!" he said. "Lord Haradion has taught something of it to us. Is that not where the Great Powers of the world who are called the Valar dwell?"

"Indeed Baranauth," replied Dior, smiling at his son's eagerness to show his gained knowledge. "Yet they are not alone for many elves dwell with them, even those who are of our kin. That is the long home of all the elves of Middle-earth."

"Then is that where the race of men also go father?" asked Elurin. "Is that where our beloved grandsire and grandam have gone?"

Dior realised that he was in for a hard grilling from both his sons and answered solemnly, "It is said there are also halls set aside for men, yet they tarry not for long within the circles of the world but soon take to ships, and cross the Sundering Seas that lie in the uttermost West. Where they sail to is not known, but this doom is said to be the gift of 'The One' to men: That the fullness of their fates be achieved elsewhere, outside the circles of Arda."

Here Elured broke his silence. "So is that where we shall go if we are ever summoned, as I have heard of our kinship with the race of men?"

Dior gazed at his son for a moment, surprised by his grave question. He turned to Nimloth who sat beside him with downcast eyes. Seldom was she inclined to discuss that side of her husband and children's fate in Arda. It was a grave topic, as the grief of the feared outcome was too much for her to face and bear.

Nimloth was of elven-kind whereas Dior and their children had mortal blood. Would Dior in time leave her a widow, and her children leave her in bereavement as they succumbed to their mortality? It was hoped the elven side of their being would prove to be the more potent, and therefore grant them the life of the Eldar. Yet how it would turn out in the end, none knew.

Dior turned back to Elured and answered truthfully. "Indeed my son, the blood of men flows in our veins. Yet if truth be told, I do not know under which kindred we shall be judged."

But Elured replied, "And if truth be told on my part, I do not ever want to go into the West, or over the Sundering Seas! Neither do I want you or any other that I love to go. I would have you refuse the summons and stay here in Doriath and always be king!"

Dior stared at Elured in wonder and disquiet. He turned to Nimloth who gazed at her son with a motherly look of concern. What grim mood had come over his first born that would out such talk.

Dior then answered gravely. "That is perhaps as Thingol, your great grandsire would have wished for himself also! Alas, he was not fated so, though long did he live and rule. Now I am king and am content as are my people...yet we know not what is fated ahead. However, even if it were so that I am doomed to swiftly pass away, it still gladdens my heart to know that you two sons of mine shall become the lords of our people."

He gave his sons a smile.
"And," he added with a sidelong glance, "It is to be hoped that you shall rule with the same prudent wisdom that I see in your questioning. But come! Do not think overmuch of such things Elured, for your young mind should not be burdened by such grave matters. To bed now for it is late!"

Nimloth then stood and declared that she would relieve her maidens of their duty for the night, and put the children to bed herself. Dior kissed the brow of each of his sons, and Nimloth held Elwing close for him to kiss his sleeping daughter's cheek.

As they turned to leave, he blessed them saying, "May the Valar protect and bless you, and the morning lighten each of your hearts thoughts!"

Nimloth ushered their sons through the doorway and turned back to her husband. "We will soon continue our talk?" she asked.

"Indeed we shall." answered Dior with a gentle nod.

Nimloth bowed her head in courtesy. "My lord." she said in parting, and passed out of his chamber.

When they were gone, Dior sat back in his chair in deep thought. The mood of disquiet settled all the heavier upon him as the words of Elured returned to his mind. That a heavy mood should now come down even upon his young son further added to his foreboding. Yet all seemed well in his realm! Indeed, there was more joy and prosperity than ever before.

But Nimloth's grim view and his own doubts had him think that perhaps the flame of the Silmaril burned too brightly in the land, blinding him and his people to the many perils that now crept outside his borders. He made a point to himself to give urgent thought to the defence of his realm as the Girdle was no more, and he knew there were enemies other than orcs who would see Doriath's destruction.

He turned to look about his chamber. That place was named Sam-uin-Ennin (The Chamber of Birth), and had been Thingol's private room that was set aside for his quiet contemplation. Lining the walls were oaken shelves brimming with books, documents and scrolls of a wide assortment. These were precious reams written by Thingol himself of his own lore, and much could be found there of his musings and purposes.

It was a favoured pastime of Dior to read them, and so fathom somewhat the wise mind of his grandfather. He himself had begun to write of his own experiences as king and of his own lore, hoping that they would one day be of use to his sons and later descendants. His gaze rose to the great tapestries that hung in the chamber. There was one upon each wall to the left, right and front of him. These were woven by Melian herself, and depicted the most joyous moments of Thingol's long life.

Upon the right wall was a tapestry of an elf standing in a forest clearing that was surrounded by tall trees, and the night sky above was illuminated by a multitude of bright stars. However, the lustre of a stronger light was cast upon the earth and all about the glade, as the elf's face was lit by a vision at which he stared agape in wonder. Before him stood a tall lady, from whom emanated a silver radiance that cast its sheen all about the forest clearing.

She was clad in a raiment of shining white, and her face was turned towards the elf, regarding him with bright eyes that smiled at the obvious wonder in his gaze. It seemed that she sang to him with outstretched arms, and about her were depicted many nightingales perched upon her shoulders and flitting about her head as they sang to her blissful enchantments. That was the birth of Thingol and Melian's love as it was of their ancient meeting deep within the enchanted forest of Nan Elmoth.

Hung upon the left wall were Thingol and Melian in a scene depicting the birth of their kingdom. They now stood in a forest clearing before a multitude of Telerin elves who had refused to forsake their lord and leave Middle-earth for the Blessed Realm. These would indeed become the Sindar of Eglador, which would in time be renamed Doriath. Now there was Thingol with his Maiar queen, and he himself transformed into the likeness of a Maiar lord, with hair shining grey silver and standing above all other heads as the tallest of all the Children of Iluvatar.

Dior then turned his gaze to the largest tapestry of the three that spanned the entire front wall from end to end, hanging above a great hearth that housed a bright fire. It showed a starlit sky that cast it's silver light over the forest tops of Neldoreth. Beneath the beech trees stood a mighty throng of elves, many of whom bore gifts while others bore musical instruments, and played to the crowds who were singing and dancing.

At the centre of the merrymaking sat Thingol upon a great chair. His arms were held about Melian, who sat upon the grass at his feet. Yet all eyes in that picture were turned to the babe held in her arms. For there lay Luthien as she had just come into the world, and the green forest floor was dotted with the white flowers of Niphredil that first grew in that hour to greet her.

Dior smiled at the vivid memories of his mother that now surfaced. Her sweet songs to him as a babe; her tender care for him as a child; her wise instruction to him as a young man and her proud words for him as he came to full manhood. He sighed and turned again to the tapestry of Thingol and Melian as they were stood before their people.

"Much have I done to preserve your ancient realm O Thingol Lord of Beleriand," he said softly. "So shall it remain, unless an evil greater than our strength should come to destroy us!"

Even as he said these words, there came a knock at his door. "Enter!" said Dior.

Authir his doorwarden entered and bowed. "My lord. One has come who says he has journeyed from Arthorien bearing a message of great import."

"Well, what of it?" asked the king.

"I do not know my lord," replied Authir. "All he would say when questioned was that what pertained to the message was for the lord of Doriath's eyes and ears alone. However, he respectfully requested that you not delay to see him, as those that sent him yet awaited your answer."

At that, the feeling of foreboding waxed the heavier in Dior's heart, and it seemed to him that a doom long feared were now to be visited upon him and his realm.

"I will see him," he said after a moments thought. "And when he is come, I do not want us to be disturbed!"

Authir bowed and exited the chamber. Presently there came a soft knock upon the oaken doors. "Come!" said the king in reply.

The door opened slightly and a timid voice came through. "My lord, I beg leave to enter into the presence of your grace!" it said.

"That has already been granted and you but delay my audience," said the king. "Enter now so that I may see you!"

The door widened and an elf haltingly entered as one fearful and full of awe in the presence of his lord and liege. He fell to one knee and for a moment, was silent, with his head bowed under the king's stern gaze. Yet finally he sought courage and raised his eyes.

"My lord, I am named Haldir, son of Falathar, and belong to those of your people who dwell in the forest of Arthorien that lies upon the eastern borders of your land."

Dior regarded the elf with curiosity, for the stranger was dressed as a guard of the First Hall. "If you are from Arthorien, why do you wear the livery of my guard?" he asked.

The wood elf lowered his eyes again. "I but borrowed the attire my lord, for my own clothes were soaked through as I was caught in the storm that now rages above ground. However, if it displeases the king, I shall change immediately. Yet I respectfully ask that my lord blames not his guards who only permitted this out of duty, as I convinced them of the import of my errand, that could not wait for my clothes to dry."

A light smile passed over Dior's face, and his stern expression softened. "Well if your errand cannot wait for drying clothes, then you shall be a guard of the First Hall... for tonight only."

He raised a hand and gestured Haldir to a chair. "I therefore welcome you to Menegroth, son of Falathar. Rise now and sit with me. Indeed it is seldom that we should see one of our folk from Arthorien grace our halls."

"I am deeply honoured my lord," said Haldir as he sat down before Dior, greatly warmed by the king's gracious words.

"I am also aware of the friendship that lies between your folk and the men of Estolad," said Dior. "Therefore the honour is mine that I should meet with one of the Doriathrim who has aided the race of my father and his kin. How goes it with the Edain who dwell there? Of late my mind has turned to that land, and I have thought to bring its people into the greater protection of our forests."

"Their plight is worse than before my lord," replied Haldir, slowly shaking his head, "as is all else in Beleriand with the waning of the years. Yet they still defend that ancient land of their fathers, though the enemy roams at will about their lands, doing harm at every ill chance. Indeed we elves marvel at their hardihood, and aid them whenever chance permits.

But now the Estoladrim are few, for many have been slain over the years, and more fled to their kin in distant lands. However, those who were boldest among them remained, and their sons are become bolder than their fathers. Yet it is because of this that I would say that though the notion of bringing Estolad's people into the protection of the wood is wise and merciful, they would refuse such favour."

The king frowned. "And why pray tell would any refuse safer harbouring from the perils of Morgoth?"

"Why indeed my lord," said Haldir solemnly; his tongue loosened by the king's ease with him. "Yet I speak with some authority in this. For many times have my folk and I tried to convince them to seek admittance into Doriath from your grace. But their valour has also made them a proud people who refuse wise counsel to trusting rather to their strength in arms.

However, I would say they are admirably proud, for there are none among them who would now forsake the eldest realm of all the three houses of the Edain in Beleriand. They would endure all hardships and fight to the bitter end, when the Dark Power should surely sweep them all away. They fill me and my folk with pity, for they are dear to us and we would only wish for what is best for their wellbeing!"

Dior was troubled by the news. The realms of the elf-friends were all but destroyed. Dorthonion, the land of the House of Beor had fallen after the Dagor Bragollach, whilst Dor-Lomin, of the House of Malach and Hador had ended with the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Only the gleanings of those two Houses were now joined with the Haladin of Brethil. Estolad was the only other realm of the Edain to survive the onslaught of Morgoth, and therefore all the more grievous for the race of men, were it to fall to the enemy.

Finally he said, "Alas! Now I join you in that concern and pity, for I would also have the Estoladrim as safe as I could make them."

After another moments pause, he sighed. "Well, things will go as they will," he said. "When chance permits I shall send an envoy to try and persuade them to remove to our safer lands encompassed by our great forests. Yet until then I would not have us give up hope, but rather continue to aid them in all we can until such time as they find it in themselves to humble their pride and accept our counsel."

Haldir stood and bowed low before the king. 'Not for naught is the king named Aranel, The Noble Elf,' he thought to himself. 'Blessed is Doriath to have so fitting an heir to Thingol as is this wise son of Luthien.'
"It shall be done my lord!" he said aloud, his heart high with renewed hope for his friends.

"Now," said Dior, "we move on to matters of greater import, for I believe you are come on an urgent errand."

At that, a troubled look came over Haldir's face and he slowly retook his seat; his joy extinguished by the descending shadow of doubt that came of the tidings he was now asked to share.

"What now ails you Haldir?" asked Dior, perceiving his sudden change of mood. "Why the look of dismay at my mere mentioning of the reason you are here?"

Haldir remained silent, sitting with his head bowed. It was at that moment, more than any other, that he loathed his part in the grave matters of the Silmaril.
"Is the true purpose of your coming so not to your liking that you would now repent of it?" asked the king. "Come! What is this message of request that demands my urgent answer? I bid you! Say all that you would to me!"

Haldir slowly raised his head in answer to Dior's command. "Forgive me O king, and pardon the impertinence of my silence! Yet loath am I to deliver that for which I was sent, as it shall serve only to add to your concerns, and may in time become a grief to all your people!"

The king's stern gaze returned. "Those are grave words son of Falathar," he said, slowly leaning forward. "Who sent you hither, bearing tidings of such ill omen for me and my people?"

Haldir had no choice. He had to speak! He was commanded to speak! "My lord, the message I bear comes from the sons of Feanaro!"

"The sons of Feanaro you say!" said Dior, leaning back in his chair as his fears were realised. Haldir did not reply, but sat with downcast eyes. An ominous silence descended upon the chamber.

The king now thought to himself, 'So the doom of Doriath now comes to the final point as I have long feared! They are come to claim their own no doubt. Yet shall it be the Silmaril's fate to return to their house? Or if it be otherwise, should the Doriathrim hope to withstand the wrath of Feanaro's sons and prevail?'

Finally he sighed and said aloud, "Alas that this grief should come so soon to disturb the newfound peace of Doriath!"

But Haldir, being deeply moved by his king's sorrow said, "Alas that it should be the son of Falathar who bears this new grief to his lord! May the king forgive him!"

Yet Dior shook his head. "Nay! No blame is laid upon you, for you are but the faultless bearer of these ill tidings. It is also news long foreseen. For how long could we of Doriath truly have hoped to retain the jewel without any word from the sons of Feanaro?

Nay! This doom was wrought the very day the Silmaril was delivered to me!" He sighed. "Now come Haldir! Tell me of your meeting with those who sent you on their errand to Dior of Doriath!"

Then Haldir related to the king all that was said between him and the two princes Celegorm and Curufin. When he was done, the king asked to be handed the message. Haldir produced the rolled up parchment, and placed it in his waiting hand.
Dior opened it and read...

Amon Ereb, Year 506 of the Sun.

To Dior, Lord Of Doriath.
News has reached our ears that a Silmaril of our father burns in the woods of your realm. Now our claim over the Silmarils that is bound by our Oath of old is known to all in Beleriand. An Oath that none can take, or break, and is binding to the very end of the world and should call the everlasting dark upon he who keeps it not! Of such gravity do we hold this matter O Lord of Doriath, for which we named Manwe and Varda and the very mount of Taniquetil upon which they dwell, to bear witness!

Our vow remains thus...
"To pursue with vengeance and hatred to the very ends of the world, Vala, demon of Morgoth, elf, man or any creature good or evil who should so hold, take or keep a Silmaril from our possession!"
This we vowed in the name of Iluvatar himself! Thus is our Oath written in the tale of the world.

Now it has come to us that you keep the Silmaril that was rescued by your father and mother from the Iron Crown of Angband. We have heard how you have used its power, healing the hurts of your people and land with its light, bringing joy back to your realm.

Now we do not begrudge you your good fortune, as all that is well done by the Silmaril is also a joy to us. However, the time has come to return it to its true heirs who have waited patiently in the dark for it. You have read the words of our grave Oath for yourself. Yet we would have you know that we have not carried out its harsh edicts in mercy, leaving you awhile to raise again your kingdom in peace.

Thus we have honoured those whose great deeds won the jewel from the enemy. Therefore let it not be said that the sons of Feanaro are proud and unyielding in all their dealings with the Silmarils, for we have shown great restraint and understanding in this.
Yet we also have need of our father's work as we have many hurts that need to be healed, as we are also compelled by our Oath and our father's dying wish.

Therefore we ask you Dior Eluchil, Lord of Doriath, in all devotion to your wisdom, that you surrender the Silmaril to the house of Feanaro, and so lay to rest our Oath, as well as to give hope for us to raise anew the glory of the Noldor in Beleriand.

We await your answer in earnest...
The six sons of Feanaro,
Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin and Amrod.

The king looked up from the letter, his face thoughtful as he pondered on all he had read. Haldir looked to the king expectantly.

Dior finally turned to him. "When did you receive this?"

"It were yester-eve when I received it my lord," replied Haldir.

"Then you have travelled far, seventy miles and more through the night with no rest!" said the king. "I therefore thank you son of Falathar, and bid you rest now for you must be weary. A council shall be held tomorrow of which you may be summoned. Till then I bid you, tell no one of this matter!"

Haldir stood and bowed once again. "I shall do as you wish my lord," he said.

Dior called out to his doorwarden. "See to it that this good elf receives the best of food and lodging while he stays with us."

Authir bowed and led Haldir away. Dior then turned once more to the tapestry of Thingol and Melian as they stood before their people.

"Unless an evil greater than our strength should come to destroy us!" he said softly.

---

Author's Commentary:

In this second chapter we jump back to Menegroth with Dior feeling uneasy.
Tolkien liked the idea of foreboding and foretelling. As a wise king who is imbued with the Silmaril's power, Dior would certainly have felt the approach of peril, though he's not quite sure what the danger is.

His mood here can be likened to Idril, Turgon's daughter, whose heart misgave her at the approach of the doom of Gondolin. I also wanted a scene with Dior and his family as I've always wondered what Nimloth and his twin sons were like. It's a kind of a poignant moment for them, as Dior, his wife and even his child, all kind of foretell their grim futures.

The next part is Haldir's conversation with Dior and his handing over the message.
I felt there would have been talk on the Edain of Estolad as Dior would have been interested since he was part mortal. With many Sindarin elves flocking to his realm, not to mention Dior's own connection to the race of men, I don't think it far-fetched to have him think of even inviting the Edain to stay within the greater protection of Doriath.

Yet I've always pictured the Edain to be valiantly proud, especially those from the eldest realm of men in Beleriand. They wouldn't have wanted to be subject to elvish laws, as they might have had they moved. Their proud stance is reminiscent of Barahir and his twelve companions who would not yield though they had lost everything.

There is also the fateful decision by the Men of Dor-Lomin in their last stand in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. They did not wish in their hearts to leave the North-lands if they could not win back their homes. The Edain of Estolad would have certainly felt the same, though they were no doubt grateful for the elvish help they received.

After the initial talk, the true purpose of Haldir's coming is revealed and Dior reads the message.
My take on the letter is that the sons of Feanor, though grim, would have at that time been less proud than before. Fate hadn't been kind to them for they had lost the great war and with it, many of their people. Their ensuing life of wandering in Ossiriand would have been somewhat humbling.

So instead of the harsh wording they gave to Thingol before, they would now try to be diplomatic at the least, not overly emphasizing the threatening nature of their Oath, but showing uncharacteristic leniency and quietly honouring Beren and Luthien's great deed that won the jewel. This would have been a genuine sentiment as well as an attempt to coddle the Sindar into surrendering their jewel.

I think it makes the story more interesting, by not portraying the sons of Feanor as outright jerks or evil elves. But more on that later. After reading the letter, we see Dior make up his mind to have a council with which to discuss the matter with his lords. But that comes in the next chapter!