The Fall Of Doriath by gamil-zirak

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The Council Of Dior

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THE COUNCIL OF DIOR

THE FALL OF DORIATH

Chapter Three...
"THE COUNCIL OF DIOR"

The next morning the king summoned all the lords of the land to council.
Their came Tuornen, Aradir and Araneg (the chief loremaster), who were all that remained of Thingol's counsellors who had survived the Dagor Dornoth (Battle With The Dwarves).

There also came Estannen, who was chief of the greatest host of Sindar who had repaired to Menegroth after its renewal.

So too came Ellonui and Banion (the fair), who were the sons of former lords who had perished in the Dagor Dornoth.

Tirithalui also was summoned, whom of old had served under Mablung (of the Heavy Hand) and was now chief captain of the king.

Also present was Pinadar (the father of many), a great lord who had walked with the host of Teleri from Cuivienen and had at that time been very close to Thingol in friendship. It were he and Elmo, Thingol's brother, who had led the host of Teleri who had refused to leave Middle-earth forsaking their lord. When Thingol had finally returned to his people and founded the kingdom of Doriath, Pinadar had become his closest counsellor. He it was, who held the remnant of the Doriathrim together after the departure of Melian and the dwarf battle, and was now held as chief counsellor to the king as he was very wise and far-sighted.

Present too was Haradion, who was a Silvan elf of Ossiriand. Of old he had been one of those sent by Denethor to Doriath, to learn from Melian all that might benefit his people in raising them from their somewhat rustic knowledge, to that of high wisdom. These Nandorin elves became wise in lore under her tutelage, yet some of them remained in Menegroth and did not return to Ossiriand, of whom Saeros was one whom after became a great counsellor to Thingol. However, Haradion had returned to his people, who in turn had benefited from his teachings.

After Denethor's death, he became a great chieftain who had later befriended Beren in Tol Galen. Thus Dior had grown under much of Haradion's tutelage at the request of his father, who had wished his son be taught the elvish ways of his heritage by one of great knowledge and wisdom. So great was the love that grew between them, that when Dior asked Haradion to repair with him to Doriath, the elflord did not refuse him. Now he dwelt in Menegroth as Dior's closest and most trusted advisor, as well as being tutor to the king's children.

Finally there came Faelir, whose name was Failo in the Noldorin tongue. He was a lord of the house of Finarfin, whom along with others had escaped the sack of Nargothrond, and survived the Fell Winter that had come thereafter. In their despair, they had sought admittance into Doriath which was granted by Thingol since they were a people in utter need, and subjects of Felagund his beloved kinsman. It were they who had brought the tidings of Nargothrond's fall to Doriath, and it were they who also declared to all the true identity of the Mormegil to be Turin son of Hurin of Dor-lomin.

They had lived alongside their Sindarin brethren in peace, and grudged not Thingol's possession of the Silmaril. For their hearts neither forgot nor forgave the part played by the sons of Feanor in the sorrowful death of Felagund their lord. Thus Faelir and his people were held in high favour by nigh all the Doriathrim, as they had great skill and knowledge in many things, and taught and aided the Grey Elves freely in gratitude for safe harbouring, as well as in the sheer delight of enlightening eager kin.

So it was that all these lords were assembled in the council chamber, and looked to their king with questioning eyes.
The chamber had at its centre a wide table of smooth white marble, surrounded by many chairs of black leather. The walls were also white, upon which hung tapestries that depicted many things shown to the wisdom of Melian. Some were remote and obscure to the eye and mind as they were of the far past, before the awakening of elves. Others were of the deeds of the Eldar in Beleriand, during the long Age of Stars. There were also a few that depicted the rumour of the future, as shown to the inner sight of the Maiar queen.

Stone traceries of vine-like stems framed the tapestries and meandered across the walls and over the ceiling. Against the chamber's walls were beautifully crafted oaken book-shelves that were filled with the ancient lore of the Sindar in Beleriand. Much there had been written by Daeron, that loremaster of old who was now grievously lost to his people. Others such as the lords Pinadar and Araneg also had many contributions. In that collection were priceless records of the starlight years of peace. But all are now lost.
Great double-doors formed the gateway to the chamber, and two carven beech trees stood upon either side of the entrance as stone sentinels. Their grey limbs that faced each other intertwined above the doors, forming an arch of intricately detailed twisting branches. Indeed, fair was the hall of Sam-uin-Gur.

Dior stood at the table's head and brought forth the coffer that held the Silmaril within. He then laid it on the table in front of him.
"I have gathered you all for a grave purpose," he began. "Yester-eve an elf from Arthorien came to Menegroth bearing a message from our eastern borders. That message came from the sons of Feanaro!"
At that, the lords all turned to each other, looking ill at ease. Dior handed the parchment to Pinadar who sat to his left. Soon it had been read by all and passed back to the king from Haradion, who was to his right.
All sat awhile in a contemplative silence that was finally broken by the king. "This is a matter of such grave import that I deemed I could not answer it alone. For it is an answer that shall pronounce the doomed fate of Doriath, of which I would have the say of all the lords of my realm. However, I would first have you hear the tale of the one who brought this message."

He made a sign to Authir who stood by the chamber doors, and when these were opened, in came Haldir, who hesitated before the great lords of the land. Dior smiled. "Come forward son of Falathar," he said softly. "Do not be afraid! I bid you, tell the lords of Doriath of your meeting with the sons of Feanaro, so they may have a better understanding of matters."
Then Haldir came forward and recounted his meeting with Celegorm and Curufin. When he was done, he was seated in a chair apart, and the lords thoroughly questioned him as the king sat silent, listening intently to what was said. When they had asked all they could, they spoke among themselves in low voices, and then fell silent, each seemingly reluctant to voice his opinion.
"Come now!" said the king after a while. "Office was not bestowed upon you to sit silent in council whilst I crave your opinions and advice! What say you in this matter?"

Then lord Araneg stood. He was the chief loremaster in Menegroth, being as deep in wisdom as he was long in memory. Ever he spoke with wary counsel, seeking rather for peaceful outcomes than for deeds that led to confrontation.
"My lord!" he began. "As you have said, this is indeed a grave matter, and one which we have long feared. Yet we now come to it as the sons of Feanaro are come to claim their own. It is plain the question before us is whether to return the Silmaril to the house of its maker, or to defy them and keep it still for ourselves.
Now I have long dwelt in Doriath, since its founding during the long ages of starlight. The innumerable years of bliss are still as a living memory in my mind, and nowhere in Beleriand had elves such joy and happiness as did we of Eglador, under Thingol and Melian. And even the return of Morgoth affected not our peace, save only to have us change our realm's name. Yet the coming of the Silmaril heralded the beginning of the end of our long content as we now see. Because of it, we lost both our king and queen, and endured terrible battle and sorrowful death. Only by your efforts as Thingol's heir, and our hard labour did we regain somewhat our happiness of old.

Thereafter the Silmaril returned to our land after its sojourn in Dor Firn-i-Guinar, and so healed many of the hurts that were beyond our power to heal, thus redressing somewhat the evils its doom had visited upon us. However, that doom remains with it still and for all the light, hope and joy it may now bestow to us, it remains perilous in our hands. Our bliss is threatened again by those who would crave the fabled jewel's power. Yet these are not merely grasping dwarves, but the very sons of he who made it!

Therefore should we not now abide by the laws of inheritance that we as elves follow? Should we to our peril deny them their birthright, and chance the turmoil of yet more strife, of which we are hardly recovered from the dismay of the last conflict to afflict our land?"
Here Araneg turned to the rest of the seated nobility. "My lords!" he said, addressing them all. "This matter can be settled in peace even as the sons of Feanaro desire, and I see no fault in that. Doriath should not... nay, must not suffer another war for the cause of a Silmaril! We have used its power well and the princes do not begrudge us that good fortune. Therefore let us be content with what light and power we have so far gained, and yield the jewel so that we may continue to live in peace!" Araneg retook his seat to the approving nods of some of the elder lords, but others shook their heads and murmured against his words.

Then lord Ellonui stood and turned to the king. He was younger in years than the other lords who sat there, and was known for his quick temper that many deemed at times to be rash. Yet he was held by all to be valiant as he had shown himself to be in the Dagor Dornoth, when in wrath at his father's slaying, he had led an elven company and driven back a dwarf legion with great slaughter. He had taken his father's seat at council, and had ever called for the urgent reformation of Doriath's army. A great champion of the realm was Ellonui son of Bronadui.

"My lord, permit me to speak if I may!" he said. The king gave a nod.
Ellonui began. "We have heard the words of lord Araneg and they seem wise enough, yet I am not of the same mind as he. Seated beside me is my lord Banion, and most of you here knew our fathers who were lords and counsellors of Thingol our long king. Now they are gone, slain in the defence of Doriath and mark you, the Silmaril. Much blood has been spilled for the sake of this jewel, and not only of our fathers and many others of our people, but also of those who fell in the kinslaying of old!" At that, voiced approvals could be heard among some of the lords.

Ellonui continued. "Those sorrows are to my mind yet to be assuaged, and the words of Curufin to Haldir that he should bring battle again to the Teleri if "refused a second time," sting my heart! Their message may in part seem courteous and fair worded, yet the hearts of its authors are not so. By their talk with Haldir they still show themselves to be proud and haughty of mood.
"Above the simple minds of the quaint forests of Doriath," they say! Yet who are they to talk so about our people, scornfully naming us "dark elves," though they be dark of heart, and unrepentant of their evil deeds of old! Much also can be said of it being Celegorm and Curufin who are sent to us with their demands. For it is to mock the king to send the very two who hindered Beren and Luthien in their quest to retrieve the selfsame jewel they would now claim. Therefore, are we now to bow to the will of these swaggering princes, and yield that which so many others have paid for with innocent blood? It is not clear to me that it should be so, for all the talk of the laws of inheritance that we as elves adhere to!"

Here lord Tuornen swiftly broke in. "Now come Ellonui! You are hot of mood as is your wont, and so it was with your father also, whom I knew well. Yet your grief of loss is not yours alone to bear for I too lost a good friend in him, and many others besides. However, let not the passions of the heart cloud the wisdom of the mind, for we who were spared must now think of protecting the living who remain in our charge! Doriath was drawn into a net of doom that far exceeded the purpose of Thingol when he named the Silmaril as brideprice for Luthien, and he and his kingdom have since paid bitterly for stirring the curse of hatred that Feanaro's Oath bestowed upon it. Now however is our chance to free ourselves from this doom, so that we may live free of the fear and doubt that gnaws our hearts, amid the joys of living within the Silmaril's power! That the blood of elves be assuaged by yet more blood as shall surely come to pass if we keep this jewel, can only bring more woe and despair to us, of which I have had my fill! We must return it!"

So said Tuornen who was great among the Doriathrim, and honoured by all in the land. He was an elf of great courage and wisdom, tempered in equal measure, and ever weighty were his words in council. The lords who were of the same mind as he now loudly voiced their agreement, deeming he had justly scored a point against Ellonui's words. Yet their assenting tones so incensed the son of Bronadui, that he made as if to stand and reply, but the king raised a checking hand.
"Let us hear from others who have not spoken!" he said. "What of lord Estannen. What say you in this matter?"

He was the chief of a wandering people who had finally found their home in Doriath.
They were Sindarin elves who sought little to do with the wars against Morgoth, yet were unwilling to forsake the lands of Beleriand that they loved. Of old, they had dwelt in the lands of Hithlum throughout the Ages of Stars. At the coming of the Noldor, they had remained in that realm though they mingled not with the people of Feanor and Fingolfin. But after a short time they moved away, because of the strife between those two houses. And passing over the Ered Wethrin, they came to dwell in the pleasant vales of the lands about the Ivrin. However, the coming of men to that region led by Magor of the house of Aradan, saw them silently fade away from that land.

At the time of the breaking of the siege of Angband, Estannen and his people yet dwelt in the woodland plains of Nuath, that lay between the rivers Nenning and Ginglith. There they remained untroubled until Minas Tirith was taken by Gorthaur, servant of Morgoth, and his orcs came down the Sirion, ravaging all the lands about, and spreading a desolation of fear. The elves fled the onslaught and passed southward nigh to the wooded highlands of Taur-en-Faroth that rose above Nargothrond. They crossed over the Narog to finally settle in the lands far south of the mighty Gates of Sirion. Near the eaves of Nan-Tathren is where they dwelt for a time, delighting in that quiet land's grassy plains, its shadowy willow woods, and its pleasant flowery meads.

Yet the coming of Glaurung the dragon to Nargothrond brought an end to their happiness, for they were filled with fear at the many tales of woe that came to them from the fleeing Noldor of that realm. In the ensuing doubt, Estannen and his people were yet again forced to move from lands they held dear. Their fleeing steps took them eastward, where after crossing the Sirion, they dwelt for a short time beneath the towering walls of the Andram. However, being ever fearful of the orc armies of Morgoth, they continued on until they finally came to the Ramdal, where the great wall petered out to gentle slopes, and came to an end. There they espied Amon Ereb from afar, yet turned away from those lands as they did not wish to meet with the people of Feanor who dwelt there. Instead they turned northwards, towards the distant eaves of Region.
Thus did they hear of Doriath's fall, and of its slow rise from ruin. Then being weary of constant displacement, and fearful of the ever lengthening power of Morgoth, they repaired to that ancient realm of the Sindar, and found joy with their long sundered kin. Their numbers swelled Doriath's people, and their chief was given the honour of becoming a lord and counsellor to the king.

Estannen now rose to his feet. "My lord, this matter is indeed troubling to our land as well as to my heart, for I now wonder if there is any place in Beleriand where a peace unbroken may reign for elves. Eagerly did I bring my host to Doriath upon hearing of its newfound respite, and here we found the joy and contentment that we had long yearned as we walked the pathless wilds of the outer lands. But now war threatens yet again in Doriath, in which many shall surely perish, and the woes from which we fled should come to haunt us once more. Therefore I say that my people and I have also had our fill of troubles, and we would not lose the happiness we have gained here. If the only means to protect that peace is to yield the Silmaril, then so be it! I counsel that we surrender the jewel!"
He sat down to the smiles and nods of the elder lords Tuornen, Aradir and Araneg, who commended his wisdom.

After a moment the king turned to his Chief Captain. "And what of you lord Tirithalui. What is your counsel in this?"
Tirithalui stood and faced his peers. He had served in the guard of Thingol, and was a close friend of Mablung "of the heavy hand". He had fought in the last defence of the Silmaril before the doors of the Treasury, where he had fallen at the last with grievous wound. Yet mighty was he among the Doriathrim, and he was tended by the maidens of healing that thereafter scoured the dead for survivors. Therefore he did not perish in that battle and swiftly grew hale again

Yet an elf of grim mood and few words he afterwards became, for he never forgot the brutal axes of the Naugrim, nor the slaying of Mablung and many others that he had served with. But that grief instilled in him a wisdom of wariness and prudence that governed his counsels to the king. Ever in the past did he give thought to the outer defences of Doriath, for it troubled him greatly that the Girdle was no more, thus leaving all in the land to the mercy of outside evils. Yet few had hearkened to his warnings save lord Ellonui. The king at that time had held matters of rebuilding and regrowth in the kingdom to be of greater importance. But now his fears were realised, and Doriath stood unprepared.

"My lord." he said. "I am your Chief Captain whose duty is to protect you and your people from all perils that may assail you. To my mind that protection comes not only through the force of arms in defence, but also through prudent counsel that may serve to allay any attack on Doriath and its people. It is plain to me that to deny the sons of Feanaro may assuredly lead to an assault on Doriath. Yet I would remind the council that we are still rebuilding our realm. As yet, preference has been given to other facets of reconstruction than that of defence. Therefore to become embroiled in another conflict at this time would be most unwise for us, as what meagre armed units we have are as yet unprepared to face any major conflict. I thus counsel that we take the course that would ensure peace in your realm my lord. Surrendering the jewel would seem the wisest choice."
Lords Tuornen and Araneg again nodded their approval to the good sense of the majority of the lords who had spoken. Even Estannen turned to Tirithalui and bowed his head, gratefully acknowledging the Chief Captain's support.

Then lord Banion stood. He was a tall elf of long dark hair, and a fairness of face that was like to those born in the blessed realm of Aman under the lost light of the Telperion and Laurelin. Thus he appeared rather as a lord of the Noldor than of the Sindar. Yet now his proudly handsome features were stern, mirroring his mood.
"If I may my lord," he said, to which the king nodded.
"Fellow counsellors! Doriath has suffered terrible sorrows in the recent past. Yet more grievous to me is how those sorrows have shorn us of our courage and pride. How is it that so many of you would now counsel the king to be fearful, surrendering to the sons of Feanaro that which they deserve not?!"
Now it was the turn of those who supported his words to murmur their approval and nod their support.
"Since their coming to Middle-earth and the death of their father, they have scarce made any true attempt to rescue the Silmarils from the Iron Crown, save perhaps in their recent gathering for battle that was the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Yet that war only came about because of the hope instilled by the courage of Beren and Luthien, who proved that Morgoth was not unassailable.

Even so, as said before, Celegorm and Curufin sought to hinder those twain in their malice.
Now the sons of Feanaro would bandy with words, "declaring their mercy" in having allowed us the use of the Silmaril awhile, in honour of Beren and Luthien. It is but the devious aim of lulling the "quaint minds" of the "dark elves" of Doriath into humble understanding, so that we might gratefully return the jewel to them as they laugh scornfully behind us. Yet did they not dwell at their pleasure for nigh five hundred years of the sun, refusing to assail Angband, thus leaving Morgoth to strengthen his forces. Indeed I know somewhat of the Golodhrim's histories in Beleriand! Of how only the lords Fingolfin, Angrod and Aegnor sought to rouse their brethren, yet were defied by those whose very business it was to retrieve that for which they shamelessly slew the Lindar of Alqualonde, and betrayed and abandoned their own kin to the frozen wastes of the north for!

It grieves me that in this matter always the purer of heart have paid. So it was that Fingolfin, Angrod and Aegnor were first to perish in that sudden war they had warned against. Then Finrod the Beloved was lost to us, abandoned by his people through the malicious persuasions of Celegorm and Curufin. So too was Fingon slain, felled in grievous battle that was fought at the instigation of Maedhros. Yet the sons of Feanaro all remain, suffering not the anguish of death that they so deserve for their cruel and merciless deeds! But all here must see that the rescue of the Silmaril was not for them but for Thingol, who indeed refused to surrender it himself, because of the blood of Beren and the anguish of Luthien whereby the jewel had been won! See also how those twain in turn sent not the Silmaril to Amon Ereb but to Menegroth. Therefore let us not deny the last wish of Beren and Luthien ere they left this world. If we must face the sons of Feanaro in battle to honour that wish, then so be it!"

Here Banion turned his glinting gaze towards Tirithalui. "And let me add this," he said. "Armies have been raised in haste before my lord. The gathering of our forces will not be so much of an issue if we are of one mind in electing to keep the Silmaril, or if it is commanded outright by our king. We shall not be wrong to stand steadfast against Feanaro's house in courageous defiance, proud in our righteous conviction! I would not have my father and the countless others who have perished by Feanaro's word, deed and sword, to have suffered and died in vain!"

Tirithalui stirred in his seat as Banion sat down to Ellonui`s voiced agreement, but lord Aradir now stood and asked leave from the king to speak, which was granted. He was an elder lord of the same mind as Araneg, wise and cautious.
"We hear you lord Banion," he began. "Yet however righteous we may seem to be in this affair, the point remains thus...Is it still wise that we of Doriath should now entangle ourselves evermore deeply in the high doom of the Silmarils of Feanaro?"

To which lord Faelir cut in, "You would ask if we should "still entangle ourselves evermore deeply in the doom of the jewels." Yet a very Silmaril has been in the keeping of the Doriathrim for many years now. How entangled must you consider yourselves to be before you realise your stake in this matter? From the very hour that Beren gave the jewel to Thingol...Nay! From the hour that your king named the Silmaril as lord Tuornen has said, was Doriath deeply caught within the net of doom of the great jewels!"

"And what would your position be in this lord Faelir?" asked Banion with faint suspicion in his tone. "I hear you say your stake and your king as if you have repented of all ties to this realm that you but recently called your own. Are we to take your words to mean that you would now side with your Golodhrim brethren, and aid their cause the better, since you are already deep in our counsels?"

There was a potent silence as they all turned to the Noldorin lord. Doubt was in many a glance, but Faelir stood tall and proud.
"My lords," he said. "Think not to look at me with such unease of hearts. You look upon one who bears a deep displeasure for the sons of Feanaro because of their past treacheries towards my kin. None here can deny that my people and I have proved to be friends of the Doriathrim in all matters since our admittance into your realm. Yet you would now question my loyalty?

My folk and I indeed followed the call of Feanaro, and bound ourselves foolishly to his fey purpose that brought us under the dark shadow of the Doom of Noldor. Yet know that the Curse has not been an easy fate to live with! So do we ever rue our folly!
Indeed, I will not deny that all we Noldor who came to Middle-earth have only ourselves to blame for the woes that have since afflicted us. For were we not forewarned in Tirion by the Valar of the evil hour that would have us take the dark road to sorrows unforeseen?! However, a chief share of blame for those foretold woes lies with the Feanorrim, whom all but punished we of their allied kin who sought to aid them in their vengeance against Morgoth.

So they left us to endure the torturous colds of the Helcaraxe; a merciless deed which we forgave in spite of losing many of our people. Their scorn we long endured in many a council in Hithlum, ere they moved eastward to lessen the strife they instigated between our peoples. In war we harboured them, only to have our goodwill repaid by their aiding in our beloved king's death through malicious counsel. The sons of Feanaro and their people have so wronged the rest of the Noldor, that my heart has long since shunned their cause, thus rendering myself and my people treasonable to their counsels, as we dwell in peace with you, the keepers of their jewel.

Yet to be held in such regard by them is but a small price to pay, as my real debt lies in the redressing of my past follies that had me follow their lead.
Therefore I come back to your question lord Banion. What is my position in this matter you would ask? To my mind the sons of Feanaro no longer deserve to lay claim over the Silmarils! Gladly will I aid in defending the jewel from their clutches, should matters come to that. However, I shall abide with whatever the council may decide hereafter, and hereby pledge the unfailing service of my people to your command!"

The other lords all rose from their seats and solemnly bowed their heads towards the Noldorin lord, acknowledging his allegiance.
"Your loyalty is beyond question lord Faelir!" said the king. "And so I would ask that you forgive the doubt of the council, yet in so grave a matter, my lords would seek only to be sure in the face of oncoming evils."

Faelir bowed. "Their doubt is well understood my lord. For ever has treachery and deceit among kin been the chief fear of the Noldor, and no more so than in Nargothrond. In that realm, mistrust for all became our stern policy, and stealthy ambush against all strangers, be he elf, dwarf, man, ally or enemy, became our grim defence. Yet upon my word of honour I tell you truthfully that I side with Doriath my adopted country, and am prepared to defend the realm against the wrath of the Feanorrim, should need demand it!" The Noldorin lord bowed again and sat himself down.

"Your words gladden my heart lord Faelir," said Aradir, "for it is good to know that there are still few of the Golodhrim who adhere to wisdom when it comes to the Silmarils of Feanaro. However in returning to what I aforesaid, I would ask my question again.
Is it still wise that we of Doriath should now entangle ourselves evermore deeply in the high doom of the Silmarils of Feanaro? Should we not wash our hands of the matter while fate still permits?
It is by far the reasonable notion to support as we would have peace in our realm. Yet our younger lords seem rash, and overly eager to have us keep the Silmaril and therefore support the notion for war. However, to declare such bold intent in council is easy enough, though the act may not be so simple.

For that choice would have us raise our swords against others of the Eldar, which in itself is too grave a matter for me to consider.
We of the Doriathrim are not like the people of Feanaro, who are tainted by a grave doom that has darkened their hearts into deeming nothing of the terrible act of slaying elf by elf. We cannot allow ourselves to think as they do, reckoning little of such grave deeds even in the righteous defence of our realm! They are prepared to take steps in the retrieval of their jewel which we cannot, or I hope will not let ourselves match!
Besides, what can truly be said for keeping the Silmaril? At best it could be argued that we might see ourselves as a fated bulwark to Feanaro's claim, sacrificing our people and realm for some great unknown purpose!"

"Ah, now we come to it!" said lord Pinadar suddenly. Aradir slowly retook his seat as all now turned to the eldest lord, ready to hear his word.
"We come to it at last." he continued. "Indeed lord Aradir asks the two very questions that lie at the heart of this council. Should we not wash our hands of this matter, or shall Doriath see itself as a fated bulwark to Feanaro's claim! So far you have all said much on the plain choices for and against the keeping of the jewel. Yet to my mind the fate of the Silmaril is as far from plain as can be. No such doom of woe and delight lies hid within any of Arda's creations, as that which lies within the Silmarils of Feanaro. Yet what can be said of these jewels that we may better understand their tale in the world.

It is said that neither Yavanna the Valier who created their light, nor Feanaro who created their housing could either reproduce or better their work. Thus the mighty jewels are the coming together of the greatest works of one of the Powers and of Elves. Also, in the Silmarils lies the only living memory of the blissful light of Aman, as yet pure and unstained by the poisons of Ungoliant, and the dark deeds that were to follow.

And what of those dark deeds that surround the jewels fate? The haughty pride of Feanaro, his terrible Oath, the defiance of the Golodhrim, the cruel Kinslaying that stained Aman with blood unjustly spilt, and the many hard and merciless deeds that followed. Indeed, who here may still see these jewels as mere adornments of beauty, or as greatly coveted treasures fit only to be locked in ones hoard! Who here is not overawed by their potent history, and lofty place in the councils of Arda! Yea! Truly great are the Silmarils in the tale of the world, greater than we here can fully conceive. Yet the little we may fathom of their doom must be assessed with all the wisdom that is given to us.

The Silmarils were stolen by Morgoth who withheld them in Angband the Iron Fortress. Indeed, the jewels were beyond the furthest reach and hope of all the elves of Middle-earth. For did Morgoth not have the whole host of Angband and its unassailable walls set before them? And were they themselves not set in his Iron Crown and guarded by his very majesty?! Yet even Morgoth in the omnipotence of his own realm could not deny their fate. And so was one rescued by Beren and Luthien beyond all hope and reckoning.

Now it is rightly considered by all to be the greatest deed ever wrought by elves and men. Yet do not doubt that a power of the highest order was also at work there. Indeed what power in all of Middle-earth or even blessed Aman could have cowed the might of Angband in one fell swoop as that which cast the Iron Fortress into deep slumber? It is true that the power of Luthien's song was great indeed, as we who were blessed to hear her sing in these very halls, remember. However, that she could tame all the might of Morgoth unaided was a feat far beyond her own strength. Yet that divine will of old was administered through Luthien the Fair, and is that to be wondered at?

Now because that impossible task set by Thingol was achieved, should we not ask ourselves for what ultimate aim or purpose was this deed accomplished? Could it have been solely for the fulfilment of Beren and Luthien's love? I think not, though that union was indeed purposed. Yet we can all be assured that it was not for the sons of Feanaro, for whom the Doom of the Golodhrim foretold of their dark Oath betraying all their hopes of ever regaining their desired treasure. "The Dispossessed shall they be for ever," it was said, because of their grim vow and fell deeds, and that will not change.

Yet against all the powers of Morgoth and the grave Oath of Feanaro, a Silmaril came to Thingol, father of Luthien. And though the jewel's dark doom has worked against his realm in the past, it has still remained through many hardships with his kin, be it with Luthien in Tol Galen or with Dior our king, here in Doriath renewed. Thus it is clear to me that this Silmaril's rightful place is with the house of Thingol for whom its rescue was fated. It may indeed be the will of Eru himself who guides the fates of the world, that we of Doriath were chosen to fulfil the part of bulwark against Feanaro's claim. And so I would urge all to take heed! For the Silmaril cannot and will not return to the sons of Feanaro!"

All the lords in the council chamber sat silent, contemplating Pinadar's words. Dior's eyes fell upon each as they pondered upon all the wise elf had said. There were some who were moved to differ from their former opinions, yet others were not so taken by his words.
Finally lord Araneg spoke. "Your words are grave lord Pinadar, and we here doubt not your inherent wisdom. However, I would still question as to whether it be the will of "Eru Allfather" to have many innocent elves of Doriath fall to the evils of an unjust battle, so as to achieve some far off aim that we do not yet perceive!"

Here lord Haradion now answered. "Many would now say that it were better if Feanaro had never made the Silmarils that would later cause such grief and strife in Aman as in Middle-earth. However, but for his foresight and skill would the ancient light of Telperion and Laurelin have been forever extinguished, and lost to the world! Also, my lord Thingol and many others of Doriath were slain because of the dwarves lust for the jewel. Yet does this truly mean that we must repent of its rescue from the Iron Crown?

My lord Araneg! There are many deeds dared that in their beginning may seem overbold, such as Feanaro's creation of the Silmarils. Or they may be deemed unwise or foolhardy, as Beren's quest seemed. Yet in the fullness of time and through many evils they are justly rewarded, for they are deeds at whose roots lay a most noble cause. For in the beginning Feanaro was not moved to create the mighty jewels through haughty pride or grimness of heart. He made them with the noble thought to use his gift of craftmanship to create wonders for the glory of Arda and we the Children of Eru.

So it was that Thingol was not moved by greed or desire for the great jewel. Nor even solely with malicious intent to send Beren on an impossible errand that would surely lead to his death. Nay! At the heart of it I deem the quest chose itself! For what bride-price in all of Arda would have befitted to win the hand of Luthien the Fair if she would assent to marriage? What thing of such noble worth was there in all the world that the father of Luthien could have asked for as sufficient payment?
Therefore I would urge you all to heed lord Pinadar's wise words! For as grim and foolhardy as retaining the Silmaril might seem to us now, who can tell to what glorious end that chosen path may yet lead in the divine counsels of Eru Allfather!"

Araneg subsided, but Tuornen rose and spoke.
"My lords Pinadar and Haradion speak of noble causes, the will of "The One," and his high unfathomable purposes. However, though I consider them to be elves of great wisdom, it seems to me that all their talk on this matter is but mere speculation to further their argument in supporting a perilous decision for the future of Doriath! I and those who support me warn against assured dire outcomes, rather than to support fanciful notions of fate and destiny! Bringing war and death to our people that could be avoided goes against the very principles of why I was made a lord and counsellor of the realm. I am still not convinced that we should keep this jewel!"

Lords now loudly voiced their support for Tuornen, but those who were for keeping the jewel also began to speak out. Soon the council became a loud brawl of opposing opinions, that threatened to escalate into angry confrontations. Already the lords Ellonui and Banion were stood, shouting down with pointing fingers, the lords Tuornen and Araneg. The king sat silent, saddened by the verbal sparring that had erupted in his council chamber. Of all the lords, only Pinadar and Haradion sat silent with him, with solemn faces.

And in a chair apart sat Haldir son of Falathar. All the while he had looked on with wide round eyes, and listened intently to all that was said, though he felt far out of place at being privy to the lofty counsels of the great in Doriath. In his own mind he wished for the Silmaril to be returned, as he had seen the flame of desire in Celegorm and Curufin's eyes, and feared greatly the final outcome of the matter were the princes to be denied. But now he looked on in great distress at the arguing lords, as it seemed to him that the grief he had portended had already come into the heart of his beloved land.

Then Dior rose and raised a hand that presently silenced the hall.
"My lords!" he said. "I have heard all your arguments for and against the keeping of the Silmaril and would now proclaim my judgement!"
Those who were stood now slowly retook their seats, and all eyes in the council chamber were turned to the king.
"In this matter, I Dior Eluchil your king, judge that the Silmaril will remain in Doriath and shall not return into the hands of the sons of Feanaro!"
The lords who were against the keeping of the jewel all looked to one another with distressed faces, and Haldir closed his eyes and bowed his head as the fate he had feared was realised.

But Tuornen rose and turned to the king. "My lord! Would you now keep this thing against all prudent counsel, claiming it for your own as one ensnared by the perilous desire which has brought low all the others, who have kept it for themselves?!"

But the king answered. "I do not now claim the Silmaril for my own Lord Tuornen, nor have I ever done so! Neither do I wish any harm to come to my people and my realm. Indeed why would I, who came to raise Doriath anew, now wish for its destruction? Why would I now wish that all our hard efforts in restoring Thingol's ancient realm be in vain? If any here believe that I am guilty of these things, being thus ensnared by desire for the Silmaril, then he must also deny that I am the son of Beren and Luthien, and the heir of Thingol Greymantle and Melian the Maiar! For no seed of theirs could ever wish for such evils to afflict their folk and realm!

Yet there are those of you who wonder at my choice in council. Why I should choose an action that may assuredly lead to war. And a grim war at that as it would pit us against others of the Eldar no less! However, to those I would ask if they heard me not as I proclaimed with foresight, the doom of the Silmaril when I first revealed it to you all. Did I not say 'its fate shall lead it even unto the heavens, where it shall remain a sign of hope to all of true heart in Middle-earth!'
That doom shall only come to pass through the heirs of Thingol's house and not of Feanaro's! Neither shall fate allow the sons of Feanaro to regain the Silmarils as you have all heard!"

Now the king opened the coffer that lay in front of him, from which sprung shafts of radiant light that danced upon the ceiling and the tapestries on the walls of the chamber. Dior continued. "Yet there are lords here who are undaunted by fate and destiny, calling them fanciful notions. Therefore behold! Let the Silmaril now show you what it will!"

He removed the jewel from the coffer and held it aloft. Its living light slowly began to wax ever brighter in his hand. The lords shielded their eyes from the glare and suddenly gasped in wonder, for all now beheld a vision emanating from within the Silmaril's star. It grew outward from the star's centre until it seemed like a great tapestry suspended in mid air. Yet the picture within was not of a scene unmoving, as a still moment in time that is depicted to the thought of artists, and brought forth by the skill of their weaving hands. The scene was alive with the movement of the living world, as a vision like those that adept minstrels could conjure of their songs to the minds of their listeners. Yet this was more than those ghost-like illusions. The lords looked into a very portal of time, and saw events that were yet to unfold, and places that were beyond the scope of their imagining.

They looked upon a golden sandy beach, whose shores were gently lapped by the sparkling blue waters of the sea. Standing before them was a maiden whom many thought to be Luthien herself. However, they soon saw that it was not so, though she was of such likeness as to be of close kin to Thingol's daughter. Her raiment was of white, and she stood barefoot in the sand with her long dark tresses straying in the sea breeze. Yet clasped about her neck was the Silmaril within the Nauglamir; its dazzling light shimmering upon the waters surface, and turning the sand stones into shining crystals.

Before her stood a tall man. His hair was golden like the bright rays of the sun and his face was exceedingly beautiful. They stood with hands clasped together and he gazed at the maiden with a tender smile, though she did not return it. Perhaps the lords of Doriath looked upon the grievous parting of a mariner from his wife, for in the near distance, lying just off the shallow waters could be descried a beautiful ship of gleaming white timbers with long smooth golden oars and great silver sails. The man then gathered the fair maiden in his arms, but even as he leaned forward to kiss her, the vision changed.

A darkened hue of grey now became the vision's canvas as the bright sun and blue sky suddenly disappeared behind the great billowing clouds of a storm. The golden beach dimmed and seemed to rise to a great height, transforming into a high cliff edge that overlooked a raging tempest of towering angry waves that piled atop each other, sending huge plumes of foam high into the stormy airs.
The man and the ship both vanished, yet the fair maiden remained, now stood alone near the edge of the precipice with a look of great distress upon her beautiful face. Her clothing clung wetly to her body as she was drenched by the heavy rains that were loosed from the stormy grey ceiling overhead. She seemed as one cornered by some evil form of pursuit, for she seemed to back away towards the cliff edge, looking wildly about her with nowhere else to go.

She still wore the Silmaril, whose illumination defied the deluge, lighting her face in the gloom. Her glistening grey eyes were wide with fear at the approach of the indiscernible peril.
Now she stood at the cliff's very edge, and all could see her glance fearfully at the dreadful drop to the churning waters below. Suddenly there was a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder that rent the airs asunder. To the horror of the lords, the maiden leapt over the precipice with a cry! Down she plummeted towards the stormy waters of the sea, and the lords sight followed after her. Into the water they plunged, following the wake of her watery passage into the depths of Ulmo's domain. In the glowing light of the Silmaril, the lords could see her sinking slowly towards the dark green depths, her dark hair and white dress billowing wave-like about her. Then the vision seemed to fade and was changed.

It seemed to the lords as though they were rising from the shadowy deep, and all could see the fast approach of the shimmering sea surface as seen from beneath the waves. Swiftly, they broke free of the waters, climbing high into the sky as if their vision had the wings of a bird. Indeed, suddenly sweeping upwards into view was a great white gull of the sea, flying speedily over Belegaer's calming waters. Yet about its neck was clasped the Silmaril within the Nauglamir, shining once again in the free airs of the world. The storm was now passing into the east, yet the vision turned westward, following the soaring bird towards a golden sunset of yellow rays, peeking through mountainous clouds that were tinted with hues of orange and red.

Suddenly the vision seemed to speed on at an unimaginable pace, rendering all into a sliding blur of rapid movement. After a racing moment, the vision came to a halt with dizzying abruptness, and all could descry afar off, a white ship sailing eastward towards them under the silver sheen of a full moon on a cloudless night. It was not long before the lords knew it to be the very boat they had seen anchored off the shallows. Yet its wide silver sails hung dormant, with scarcely a ripple as it laboured for headway in the windless night.

In sorrow did the lords of Doriath look upon that ship, as they knew that the mariner returned to grief as his wife had drowned in the watery depths of the sea. But there was the great bird again, flying westward with frantic speed. It was now almost above the ship and lo! it suddenly plummeted from the night airs as a falling star. Down it fell, struggling to spread its wings to ease its perilous descent. Yet even as it would fall upon the white timbers of the deck, the vision was changed.

The lords now looked on in wonder, for there, stood at the prow of the ship, was the tall mariner and beside him, in his arms stood that fair maiden whom all had thought drowned in the cold waters of the sea! And upon the man's brow was the Silmaril of Feanor; its light shining brighter than before as it faced the west. For that indeed was where the ship now seemed headed, cutting through the grey waters towards a distant fiery sunset.

Many visions now passed swiftly before the lords eyes.
They saw the ship sail by strange isles whose shallows were perilously filled with the half sunken heads of jagged rocks, and whose shores were shrouded in dark ominous mists that writhed and swirled as if disturbed by the light of the Silmaril.

They beheld the ship passing over black waters, from which wave-like shadows clung to the white timbers of the ship's hull and threatened to smother the boat in their cloying darkness. In those strange seas, all was dim save for the Silmaril that blazed a straight passage of undeniable light from the prow where the mariner was stood.

Now the ship passed by an isle with a great harbour whose waters were sprinkled with many graceful swan-like ships. A fair haven city lay nestled at its inner bay, with numerous clusters of white housings and silver domed buildings. Terraced seaward gardens tiered down from the coastal highlands to the seafront. Standing in the midst of the harbour city was a tall monument of a tower with a single light shining from its summit, its radiance mingling with that of the Silmaril in greeting.

Yet in all these visions, whether in dark mists, or shadowy seas or in the passing of silent haven cities in the twilight, the Silmaril shone unsullied, waxing ever brighter as it continued on westward.

The lords then beheld the mariner and the fair maiden standing at the prow of their ship as it lay anchored in calm blue waters that were laced with a dreamy silver sheen. It seemed as though they both looked upon a sight that filled them with great wonder. The vision slowly turned towards what they saw and the lords all gasped at the sight of it.

Before them lay a silent beach of white sands, twinkling here and there with bright gems and shining pearls that lay strewn all along the coast. Beyond lay a very fair seaward land of rolling green lawns with clusters of wild gardens of many coloured flowers. The land was sheltered by tall trees with smooth shining boles that stretched to long supple limbs, heavy-set with glittering leaves of gold and silver. Within the folds of the land were delved shallow valleys out of which flowed rivers of silver that sparkled as they meandered down to the sea. Beyond the coastal lands the terrain rose to hilly shoulders over which shimmering waters plunged down as wavering threads of dreamy waterfalls

Yet stood behind this scene of serene beauty were mountains of unimaginable splendour.
Terrifyingly sheer were their walls that rose to unguessed heights and the range itself endlessly spanned the horizon from north to south. They looked upon the very shores of Eldamar and the mighty walls of the Pelori in Aman!

The vision began to rise rapidly, with ever gaining speed until even the tremendous walls were surpassed and their ice-capped jagged crowns reached up from below like the white-tipped fingers of a gargantuan hand. But even as the lords vision outdid the summit of the wall, they all gasped in wonder. Behind the mighty fence of the Valar rose a mount that dwarfed even the Pelori into insignificance. It stood alone, spreading into sudden view in unimaginable proportion, shining whiter than snow, insurmountable and immutable, both awesome and terrible, rising unendingly into the heavens.
The Mount Of Taniquetil, Sentinel of the Valar!

Still the vision rose, yet there seemed no end to the great behemoth that stood as a monolith reared as if by Eru himself to watch over the world. Up continued the gaze of the lords of Doriath, following the vision's heavenly path. Now they reached heights where the blue skies of the world darkened as they passed into the lower airs of the Ilmen. There soon came an approaching gleam from above, and the dark of the surrounding heavens was lightened. Their swift ascent was slowed as they beheld a multitude of small stars flying as if with wings all about the monumental grey of the mountain. But soon they could see that the winged stars were in fact great birds.

Mighty eagles there were and swift hawks, all glowing with the inner light of their graceful spirits. These were the birds of Manwe that were his eyes and ears to the world, flying now in winds as freshly released at birth by his hand. Suddenly, Taniquetil's summit was reached and there the vision halted, looking down upon a shining silver domed city under clear starlight, whose glowing sheen shimmered undimmed upon the white walls of Manwe's halls. All in the council chamber stared agape in awe as they beheld that holy city, where sat Manwe Sulimo upon the throne of Arda with Varda his queen at his side.

But now the vision began to rise still further until Taniquetil's summit was as a shining beacon of silver light far below, and the lords of Doriath looked upon the vast realm of the stars, and beheld the very cauldrons of their burning white fires. Then there came a star towards them, growing ever brighter, yet soon all could see that it was a ship of the sea, even that which was captained by the tall mariner, and anchored way below in the bay of Eldamar beneath the walls of the Pelori. To their wonder it now sailed the pathways of heaven, yet was newly made and fairer to behold by far, filled with a wavering flame, pure and bright. And all beheld the tall mariner who now sat alone at the helm, glistening with the dust of elven gems and the Silmaril still shone brightly upon his brow.

As the ship drew near, he seemed to lean over and look towards the far earth and suddenly the vision followed his gaze, plummeting down with tremendous speed once again. The dark of the Ilmen soon merged with the reddened sky of dusk in Arda, and the lords sights passed swiftly through a high covering of wispy cloud. Then far below could be descried the darkening lands of Beleriand in early night, lying open beneath their eyes. Down sped the vision towards the southern tipped coasts where all could soon see the twinkling fires of a settlement nigh to the dark arms of a great delta.

Nearer the earth they now were and they could see a great concourse of people gathered in the town, but the vision came to finally rest upon two young boys who looked so much alike as to be twins. And though they were dark of hair, in their faces could be discerned the likeness of the tall mariner who now sailed the heavens. Now all that people were looking up to the sky, some pointing and others kneeling and giving thanks, and the vision slowly turned upward, following their gaze. And there, in the darkening blanket of night, shone a star that was far brighter than all the rest, and the lords of Doriath knew it for the Silmaril of Feanor. Then the vision slowly faded into the white starlight of the jewel, and the lords found their sights returned to the council chamber in Menegroth.

Dior set the Silmaril back into the coffer and there was a long silence before he spoke. "My lords, you have all been blessed this day to bear witness to sights that none of the Sindar have ever seen! You who have been granted a glance into the future that must be! You who with your own eyes have beheld the coasts of blessed Aman that are banned to all in Middle-earth! You who have looked even upon the very summit of Taniquetil and the dwellings of Manwe and Varda! Who here may still deny the Silmaril's true fate... deny its true destiny?! Come now! If there be any among you who still doubt, let him speak!"
All sat silent and speechless in the chamber with heads bowed. Such was the effect the vision had on them.
"Nay, do not sit with bowed heads!" said Dior. "Now is the time to regain your courage of old! To be prepared to rise up to arms when the time comes! To rally behind your king in standing firm as protectors of the Silmaril's true destiny! Do I hold my lords with me in this?"

The lords now rose one by one from their seats and when all were stood, each had uttered the same five words.
"I am with you lord!"

---

Author's Commentary:

In this chapter we have the council that has the lords of the Doriathrim decide whether to return or keep the Silmaril.
We have elves of various backgrounds. There are elder lords who were counsellors of Thingol, to newly come chieftains of Sindarin groups who are fleeing the outside perils of the day. Dior would have wanted a council that represented as roundly as possible, all the peoples of Doriath who lived there at that time. Therefore I also included the Noldorin lord Failo or Faelir, since it is stated in the Narn that elves of Nargothrond were admitted into Doriath after its sacking by Glaurung. With the Noldor being "who they are", they would surely have had representation in the "new government" of the day.
Now, I well and truly believe that those who were against keeping the jewel were absolutely right!! When you look at Doriath's recent prior history you understand their stance the better.

Doriath had survived for thousands of sun years since its inception. The elves who lived there were archaic in nature, very set in their ways and customs and even when the world was in turmoil, it hardly touched them because of the protection of the Girdle. All of a sudden, their majestic king is murdered. Before they can come to terms with this terrible deed, Melian their beloved queen leaves and with her goes the protective girdle. You can imagine the trauma but wait...before they know what's happening, dwarves invade and understandably defeat them and ransack Menegroth's treasures. These elves must have well and truly been haunted and severely affected by this sudden terrible chain of events. Yet Dior, Thingol's heir comes and rouses their broken spirits to rebuilding their realm, which to their great credit, they achieve. Then the Silmaril returns and boosts their confidence and happiness. But they have only had it for 3 years when the sons of Feanor come, threatening war if they are refused.

Now I think the lords can be forgiven for being somewhat cowardly in a sense, but I think its the learned wisdom of caution and genuine fear at what might happen to their hard work of restoration, if there be battle again. Those who are for keeping the jewel have their points but as much as their arguments are valid in some ways, they are hardly in keeping with the psychological state of the Doriathrim that I think would have existed at the time. As Tuornen says, "That the blood of elves be assuaged by yet more blood as shall surely come to pass if we keep this jewel, can only bring more woe and despair to us of which I have had my fill! We must return it!"

But in trying to write of a council that covers all aspects of the argument, one has to tackle the theme of fate or destiny.
This was a favourite theme in Tolkien's works. In fact, the will of fate is the very backbone of deeds and actions in his stories. Eru is in a sense controlling all from afar, influencing choices people make and passing it off as chance. In the Hobbit and LOTR, Gandalf is always going on about chance being more than we think it is.
Remember this: "I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought." Gandalf's words to Frodo as taken from the chapter "The Shadow Of The Past" in the LOTR.

Pinadar's speech speaks along those lines. Fate and Destiny. He is now speaking for the Silmaril, saying it has come to Doriath for a greater reason than they fathom and so they must do all they can so that it fulfils its true destiny. Of course it's not destined for the sons of Feanor as we all well know. In other words one might say, rather bluntly, that the Doriathrim are being used by Eru to protect the Silmaril from the Feanorrim so that it can achieve his ultimate purpose of having it shine in the heavens as a sign of hope to all. Dior foretold this in his speech in Chapter One.
Of course, not all the lords would have listened to all the talk of trusting to fate in the path of oncoming evils. This to them would have been asking a lot, especially after their terrible recent history.

So what would change everyone's mind to whole-heartedly support the notion for keeping the jewel?
I thought the Silmaril itself should have a say in the proceedings by giving all a shared vision of the future. This serves to awe all the lords into supplication by revealing scenes that dazzle, humble, intrigue and astound.

Someone told me they liked the vision but were disappointed that it was what convinced the lords to keep the jewel rather than continued debate. My take on this is that the lords had to be 100% behind Dior in support. No amount of arguing would have changed the minds of lords like Tuornen, Aradir and Araneg. As I said before, these guys had completely valid arguments in my opinion against keeping the Silmaril. Yet Dior needed all of his lords to truly understand what was going on. I think the lords deserved that at least since they were being asked to give total support to a war of truly serious nature. A war which was to be against other elves for that matter, which in itself was considered taboo. It was asking much of the Sindar in the first place so only something that totally removed all doubt in their minds could well and truly convince them.

Seeing the journey of the Silmaril into the west, the realm of Valinor, Manwe's city atop Taniquetil and the jewel's final fate would have undoubtedly done the trick. It would have been the same as a priest showing an atheist a vision of the pearly gates and God on his throne. That would get one believing in religion I would think! So the Silmaril influences the situation so that the Sindar will sacrifice themselves for its cause. Yet one can't blame the jewel, since it ultimately stands for Good. It stands for the will of Iluvatar. To be manipulated by good to achieve a greater good is in the end, okay I guess. The same thing can be said for Gandalf in LOTR. He is a force for good but his actions are more than once construed as manipulation. So it was with King Theoden who swapped the puppetry of Grima for Gandalf. Denethor was more his own man but, well, we all know where following his own counsel eventually led him. So having the Silmaril do the same is certainly not a new or far-fetched theme in Tolkien's universe.

Anyway, lets move on to the next chapter!