The Fall Of Doriath by gamil-zirak

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The Sons Of Feanor

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THE SONS OF FEANOR

THE FALL OF DORIATH

MINYON is Noldorin for "first-begotten" or "first-born".
TORON is Noldorin for "brother"
OHTATYERONISSI is Noldorin for the "Warrior Women"
Please forgive the use of the term Fëanorrim as being used by the characters in this chapter. I did this because I don't know the Noldorin equivalent for "The People of Fëanor."
If anyone will be so kind as to give me the correct translation, I'll be grateful. Thanks.

Chapter Six...
"THE SONS OF FEANOR"

The autumn was fast waning and the rumour of a bitter winter approached. The cold months had grown harsher in Beleriand as Morgoth's power waxed. Of late, strong winds had swept down from the north, snatching ruddy leaves from the woods and forests that filled the airs with their fluttering shadows, leaving their forlorn trees unclothed and creaking in the wind. The days were of constant gloom, having long lost the clear sun behind a permanent grey blanket, and both elves and men looked up with foreboding as to the early harshness of the weather. An icy feeler of winter was loosed from the far north and passing over Ang-fauglith, soon made itself felt in all of Beleriand.

Amid the darkly pined lands of Hithlum, the slaves of the house of Hador felt it's wintry bite. They looked up to the grey skies and sorrowfully shook their heads and tightened their rags about them as they toiled for the Easterlings, who stayed their whips and sniffed the cold airs thoughtfully as they tended their warming fires.

The chill breath passed through Taur-nu-Fuin and rolled the haunted wood's dark shadows southwards, extending their coiling gloom over the bare highlands of Dorthonion that further deepened the colourless grey of the silent heaths and rocky moors of the land.

The cold swept over the Echoriath that surrounded the hidden city of Gondolin, and set its chill upon the plain of Tumladen. Yet the Gondolindhrim were not daunted by the coming winter, for hope was always high in their hearts. Such was the protection of the shielding mountains and the glory of their illustrious city, that despair of any kind touched them little. But Gondolin's doom drew ever nearer.

The heralds of winter surged through the pass of Sirion, and swept into the forest of Brethil where the remnant of the Haladin were hard at work with their axes, felling the beeches of their woods in preparation for the coming winter months.

The pallid gloom of Nan Dungortheb was disturbed and swirled ever closer to the northern borders of Doriath. Evil vapours thrust forward across the ancient road as groping outstretched fingers that clutched at the bordering pine trees.

To the east, the chill wind beat upon the great walls of the fortresses of Himring and Mt Rerir where multitudes of orcs now dwelt, bustling to and from their ever increasing forays into Beleriand. They felt the cold, yet were enheartened as they took it as a sign of their master's growing power. Its frosty bite would freeze the hearts of their enemies, and the black armies would follow in its wintry wake, bringing the wrath of Angband down upon the dismayed folk of the land.

Southward meandered the bitter breath of winter, sweeping through the forests of Doriath. It blew over roads and pathways, upon which tread the marching feet of the Sindar who now strove to fortify their realm. The mounting gloom all but darkened their hearts, as the Silmaril stayed not the effects of the coming winter. Also, something was amiss in the land. The bare trees of the forests seemed to be ailing from a malady other than that of the cold as they began to appear dark and crooked to the eye. Their fallen leaves turned into a black mulch of noisome slime beneath their boles, oozing with rot that stained the forest floor. The elven soldiers and their captains looked on silently as they went by, and foreboding grew in them each day. For never had a winter so affected their land, nor been as chill while still in the months of Autumn.

The people of Estolad shivered at the cold's approach and many heads were turned westward towards Arthorien where their elvish friends dwelt. They could tell they would be assailed by a fell winter and knew they would require the aid of the Doriathrim ere it ended. Yet no elves had come of late to their realm, and many now wondered what was afoot in Dior's kingdom that would hinder their visits.

To the west, the frost passed over the desolation of the Falas, gnawing with icy jaws at the ruined walls of Eglarest and Brithombar and the silent dwellings within. Great Belegaer rolled upon the silent beaches; his cold waters an uninviting grey, with white crests that leapt high in the roaring foam.

The Narog continued it's noisy flow past the abandoned caverns of Nargothrond, leaping over the stony ruins of the great bridge that had fallen into the gorge of the river. The broken gates still lay upon either side of the gaping black mouth that was the entrance to Felagund's fallen realm. The chill crept inside, meandering through the ancient maze of decaying halls and treasuries, raising anew the dragon stench of Glaurung that had settled over the desolation.

Far to the east, Morgoth's wintry heralds swept by the lone hill of Amon Ereb that was a scene of bustling activity. Companies of elvish soldiers on foot and on horseback traversed the roads that led to the lonely height. The western slopes rang with the hammering din of smithies in full labour as weapons and armour were serviced and horses were newly shod. All companies that marched to Amon Ereb followed the road round the base of the hill to the southerly slopes, where they were housed in the barracks that were assigned for the soldiery of Feanor's people. Ladies and maidens were at work in their houses, weaving heraldic devices for their lords to display in battle. Scouts and messengers called for clearance as they rode up the winding road to the high fortress gates where the guard swiftly let them enter to deliver their reports to their captains. Many paused in their work as they felt the oncoming chill, but the cold all but added to the heat of purpose in their hearts. For the Feanorrim laboured towards the coming winter and the icy blast heralded the nearness of their goal.

The frosty wind swept by the sons of Feanor who were stood upon the parapet that faced northward. They hardly seemed to notice the chill as they looked down upon the ongoing preparations for the war they had instigated.
Immediately after their council they had summoned their captains and told them of their decision. If the captains had had any reservations, they dared not reveal them as they all knew that the purpose of the brothers could not be gainsaid. The princes therefore gave the order to summon as many of their people from wandering as possible. After a few days of gathering, the sons of Feanor addressed the Feanorrim and set in them the desire to go to war with Doriath for the retrieval of the Silmaril.

Many things they said to their people that day, delivering speeches akin to those which their father had uttered in Tirion long before. And though no brother was silent, it was Celegorm who spoke most, and it were his words that chiefly roused their peoples hearts. Yet the grim truth was that most of the Feanorrim needed little persuasion as their discontent in living so while the Sindar of Doriath lived in bliss stung their bitter hearts as much as it did their princes. Also, their allegiance to the house of Feanor was beyond all question, even to the point of accepting the fell order for war against other elves. There were yet many who had gone into exile with Feanor to Formenos, and had fought the Teleri at Alqualonde. No dark order daunted them from pursuing the Silmaril and indeed, many among them thought they were even overly late in going to Doriath for it. Such were the hearts of the Feanorrim at that time for the binding power of the curse lay all the heavier upon them since the princes had retaken their terrible Oath. The evil that lay at the heart of their claim now clouded all their peoples minds with dark and hateful thoughts.

Celegorm turned his face upward to the grey skies and his sharp elven sight scoured the heavens for his servants. These were called the Aicafionduri in the tongue of the Noldor and along with Huan the Hound of Valinor, were given by Orome the Valar to Celegorm as gifts to aid him in his love for the hunt in Aman. Yet when the Noldor abandoned that land, all had followed their master into exile. Eight mighty hawks they were that lived in pairs. Yet these were of the second generation of birds as their sires had succumbed to the mortal airs of Middle-earth, having lived for over four hundred years of the sun. It was decreed at their making that to each pair would be born a male and female, which in turn would mate with a cousin so that their number would remain the same after each former generation died.

They were named the Fell Hawk Servants for they were very great, being more than five times the size of the largest of their lesser cousins of Middle-earth. Their swiftness in the air was such that no bird, not even the eagles of Manwe could vie with them. Even their eyesight was scarce less than the Winglords of Thorondor, for nothing was hidden from their sharp glance as they flew in the heavens. Neither could any prey escape the unyielding clutch of their steel-like talons, nor any hide defy their rending beaks.

Now it is said that Celegorm was learned in the speech of birds and beasts, having been taught by Orome. So it was that he could converse with his hawks and thus ordered them to serve as the eyes of the Feanorrim in their endeavour against the Sindar. Immediately after the council, Celegorm had sent them out to fly over Dior's realm and spy upon the activities of the Sindar, bringing report of all their movements. Hence the sons of Feanor knew of the fortifying of the east marches of Doriath, from the dwarf road in the north that was bordered by the oaks of Arthorien, to the southern marches that looked from afar to the Andram. The hawks also brought report of Sindarin scouts that now came into east Beleriand in an attempt to spy upon Amon Ereb, and it was only by their vigilance and that of many other birds the hawks had roused to their cause, that the Feanorrim discovered them and barred the ways forward.

"The Sindar are not permitted to cross into the lands of the sons of Feanaro while the matter of the Silmaril yet lies between our peoples!" said the Feanorrim whenever they came upon Sindarin scouts in the woodlands as if by chance. "Is it not enough that we abide by Dior's request with firm obedience? Yet here we find you spying upon us, implying an untrustworthiness on our part that we do not deserve. Return therefore to your realm in shame for we send no spies to Doriath in the belief that there should be no deceit in this grave matter!"

Then the scouts returned to Doriath in doubt as it seemed to them that the people of Feanor were true to their word and sent no spies. Yet they knew nothing of the Aicafionduri which were as yet unseen as they flew beyond all elven sight. But the Feanorrim laughed at their backs as the doom of Doriath drew ever nearer.

Now Celegorm caught sight of his winged servants as they soared down from the northern skies in vast spirals, gliding lower at each lofty turn. They were swift to reach the lower airs where the pointed turret tops of the fortress pierced the sky. In them were built high eyrie's that housed each pair. However, the lead bird veered aside from its homeward bound flightpath and continued to descend towards the parapet where the princes stood. Onto the balcony ledge it swept; a majestic bird named Altarama who was the chieftain of the hawks. He gave a mighty call of greeting as Celegorm strode over to him and held converse with the great bird while gently stroking its brown feathers.

After a moment, he turned to his brothers. "Altarama says the Sindar are amassing much of their soldiery in the eastern woods of Region and the building of forts has now reached the inflow of the Celon into the Aros to the south of Arthorien. It seems they plan to build a great chain of fortification, following the Aros down from the north to its very inflow into the Sirion by Aelin Uial. However, the south and west of the realm are as yet sparsely manned as all efforts are still to the east."
Celegorm then turned to Maedhros. "Well minyon, do you still doubt Dior's true intent? Is it not clear to you now that he plans a great defence against our entering his realm in peace or otherwise? And yet why should he do this if he would yield our jewel? It is for this defensive reason that he asked us for a delay, bidding our return in the spring when all his plans to wall us out of his realm would have been full wrought. He defends against our ever coming for the Silmaril!"

Maedhros turned his grey eyes northward. With the cooling of his heart in the weeks after their fateful council, he had begun to harbour an echo of small hope that fate would be kinder and lead not to a confrontation of war. However, it was now plain that Dior did not plan to cede the jewel. So, the die was cast and his resolve was set.

He turned back to Celegorm."You and Curufinwe were right in council. Now we must look to these tidings as a sign that we must swiftly prepare to march forth as success of our plan to enter into Doriath unseen and unchallenged grows less with each passing day. The south and west of Region are yet free you say? Therefore we must take that way and hope to come behind the Doriathrim's lines of defence and take them unawares!"

Celegorm nodded in agreement. "Indeed it shall be so minyon. In three days the horns of the Feanorrim shall sound upon the hill, and we shall set forth at your command!"

Altarama spread his great wings and gracefully launched himself into the air, swiftly climbing away to his high eyrie. The brothers turned to leave the balcony yet Maglor remained where he stood, staring into the north. Maedhros watched him for a moment from the doorway that led into the fortress and wondered. Of all his brothers, he was closest to Maglor and therefore knew him well. He could tell that something deeply unsettled his brother about the whole business of the Silmaril. Yet even now, when Dior's true intentions had become clear to them and Celegorm and Curufin's suspicions were vindicated, Maglor still seemed troubled.

In all their later councils on the retaking of the Silmaril he had said little, offhandedly voicing his agreement to all that was said though it were plain his thoughts were elsewhere. Now seeing him standing there with a grave face made Maedhros wonder all the more. Could the cause of his brother's sombre mood still be of his natural opposition to a conflict with other elves? Perhaps it were so, yet Maedhros thought there was more to his brother's melancholy. Many a time had he seen Maglor regard his brothers with haunted sight, as if he could see some far off grief that would afflict them. Maedhros sighed. What ailed his brother?

He came over to Maglor's side and stood awhile in silence, following his brother's gaze to the northern horizon. It was a dull noon with a sky heavily laden with thick layers of grey cloud that rendered bland and colourless the featureless lands about. The chill wind had passed yet the airs felt colder in its wake and Maedhros drew his great cloak about him. The noise of bustling activity came to their ears from below: the galloping of hooves, the tramping feet of marching warriors, the loud calls of war captains, the ringing din of smithies and the low whirl of working looms.

He turned to Maglor. "Toron, what troubles your heart? Your mood of late has been grim indeed...grim and silent as if a dark cloud has settled over all your thoughts. These are stern times for us Macalaure. Stern yet necessary for our hand is now forced. As much as we may hate what we are about to do, you must surely see that we have no other choice in the matter. It is our sworn destiny to pursue and retrieve the Silmarils from whosoever would withhold them! I marvel that for one who but recently uttered the Oath, you still seem not to understand this!"

Maglor remained silent for a moment, his gaze still fixed upon the horizon. His dark hair strayed in the biting wind and his cloak rippled and flared. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of the crisp air.

Finally he turned to his elder brother. "All too true are your words Russandol. These indeed are stern times. Stern and grim not only for the Doriathrim whom we go to destroy, but also for we the sons of Feanaro!" Maedhros looked questioningly at Maglor who turned away, gazing again to the north.

"We have lived long in Middle-earth," he continued. "Lived longer than all the high princes of Finwe's house, save Turucano who is yet hidden in Ondolinde. But he alone remains of his house, having lost his father Nolofinwe and his brothers Findecano and Aracano to war. Where also are the sons of Arafinwe? Where are Findarato, Angarato and Aicanaro? They are slain Russandol. They have all paid for following the lead of our father against the wisdom and will of the Valar. Yet what of we upon whom lies the chief share of the wrath of the Powers? Have we yet paid for our rebellion against the Blessed Realm? Is our hefty debt settled for the blood of the Teleri which we spilled upon the Swan ships and pearly quays of Alqualonde? Have we paid in full for betraying our brethren by leaving them to the frozen wastes of the Helcaraxe?"

However, Maglor's solemn words roused a hot anger in Maedhros who cut in hotly, "Did we not lose our brother Ambarto to tragedy?! Did we not lose our father Feanaro to the fiery whips and axes of the Valaraukar? Do not speak as though we of the eldest line of Finwe have not also suffered the wrath of the Valar, and endured grievous loss in our own house!"

But Maglor slowly shook his head. "So we have toron," he replied, "yet you misunderstand me for I speak in fear Maitimo! Fear for what lies in store for us in Doriath!"

Maedhros' brow creased to a frown. "Fear? What would you fear for the Feanorrim?"

Maglor turned back to face him. "I would fear that our doom should finally catch up with us, and put an end to our life in Middle-earth."

Maedhros gave a grim smile. "If you talk of death in battle your fears are but the natural anxieties that weigh upon the mind ere one goes to war. For that is a peril which all warriors must risk. Yet do not fear it overmuch as our prowess has ever been proven upon the battlefield. We who have survived all the great battles fought against Morgoth in Beleriand. We who even escaped the rout of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad with our lives!"

"Yet this is different minyon!" replied Maglor heatedly. "Indeed we have been saved from the perils of Morgoth when others have perished. Yet know that the greater danger for the Feanorrim lies with the grim deeds we do in the name of our Oath, the results of which have grievously afflicted us in the past. So did the kinslaying at Alqualonde lead to the death of Ambarto and our father Feanaro. Think now of the price our house shall pay for a second kinslaying!
Minyon! I have not lost all wisdom and foresight to my blind desire for the Silmaril! The vision of my mind's eye is not yet clouded! Hearken to me Maitimo! If we go to war with Doriath there shall be fewer of the sons of Feanaro to return alive to the hill of Amon Ereb!"

Maedhros stood silent for a moment, gazing intently at his brother. It was known that Maglor had a measure of foresight as he would at times sing of things that were yet to pass in his songs. Now words spoken in council that were half heeded at the time came back to Maedhros' mind.

"Beware that your dark wisdom in this matter shall lead you to a doom of the same hue!" Maglor had said to Curufin in a heated moment. Subtle pangs of doubt crept into Maedhros' heart, yet what could he now do or change? They had all retaken their Oath in reaffirming their commitment to reclaiming the Silmaril, no matter how this was to be done. He could no longer alter his or his brothers counsels, and more so now it were plain Dior defied them by walling himself against any action taken, be it peaceful or otherwise. Yet if Maglor saw death awaiting...

Nay, Maedhros did not believe it! He could not believe it! He would not let himself believe it!
An aura of invincibility surrounded the six sons of Feanor in the minds of their people and evermore so after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. It were now said by many that they were charmed as their Oath, however grim, protected them against fate and would save them from all perils until such time as they would reclaim all the lost Silmarils. Nigh all the Feanorrim held this belief and regarded the six princes with awe, and the sons of Feanor themselves began to believe it were truly so. They could not be slain in any battle or by any mischance in Middle-earth until all the Silmarils were recovered.
'Macalaure was mistaken,' thought Maedhros, convincing himself at last. The sons of Feanor had survived many perils in Middle-earth. That they should be felled at last by the Sindar did not seem possible to him. 'Nay! Macalaure was truly mistaken!'

He turned to his brother with a stern face as he looked down upon him. "Now come Macalaure. I tire of your solemn mood that would have you speak of us with such ill omen! We cannot go back on our Oath for any fear, be it real or conjured. Yet I deem your anxiety to be that of the latter and thus never to be realised. You must cast aside all such doubts as it is unbecoming for a great lord of the Feanorrim to display such misgivings as to our fate, for it may only serve to dismay your people who abide by your word!"

Maglor sorrowfully bowed his head and sighed. Maedhros did not or rather would not believe him and that grieved him greatly. Yet he could do or say no more. He had given his warning and if it fell upon ears that would not take heed, then so be it!

He looked up to face his brother. "Very well Maitimo," he said sadly. "This shall be the last time I speak of this for it is plain you will not listen. I shall take my due place and lead my people into battle, for that is your wish as well as my fate as a son of Feanaro. However, ere all is ended you shall remember this day and rue it in bitterness that you took not my warning to heart!
Alas for those who go to their end in Doriath!
Alas for our cruel Oath that would bring ruin to the Sindar!
Alas for the hard fate of the Noldor in Middle-earth!"
With that, he turned and disappeared through the doorway.

                                                          ~oOo~

Preparations upon the hill now came to a sudden climax as word swiftly spread that the order to march would be in three days. The southerly slopes lay beneath a multitude of erected tents as the barracks could no longer hold all the warriors that were come. Tall standards were placed beside many of them, with their heraldic flags flapping proudly in the cold winds. Yet in truth there were fewer warriors than would have come, for many who dwelt in Ossiriand were bidden to remain there for fear of arousing the suspicion of the Green elves. The sons of Feanor did not trust them as they thought they might be in league with the Sindar and used as spies against the Noldor. Indeed, word had long since reached the ears of the Silvan elves of the potential strife between Doriath and Amon Ereb, for Haradion had sent messengers to his people asking for their aid in keeping a watchful eye upon the Feanorrim.

Yet Maedhros set a guard all along the Gelion, from the inflow of the river Thalos in the north to the inflow of the Brilthor in the south, and ordered that none of the Silvan elves should cross the great river until the matter was resolved. Great was the area of which to guard, yet no Silvan spy crossed over unseen as the Aicafionduri and all other birds in the region alerted the Feanorrim to any breach. Thus the Silvan elves knew nothing of the Feanorrim's uprising and therefore gave no warning to their Sindarin brethren. However, they kept watch upon the movements of the Noldor whom inhabited their own haunts and these kept up appearances by living as they had always done, settling in many camps in the wilds of the land and mingling with the Green elves in times of song and merriment.

The eve of the march came swiftly. All that day activity upon the hill had slowly died down as preparations came to completion. All companies that were to march forth were now housed upon the hill, and the roads were emptied of messengers and scouts. The very weather seemed to calm as the sweeping winds died down and the cold was less biting. Indeed by the time of evening, the weather had curiously warmed and the tepid airs were stifled, carrying little sound as though eastern Beleriand were holding its breath in a great hush. The fires upon Amon Ereb burned low yet brightly as the last vestiges of the orange hues of twilight faded beneath the western horizon. The day had seen the thick covering of grey cloud dissipate as a strong wind blew in from the west to clear the skies. The stars showed their twinkling faces for the first time in many days, burning brightly as they vied not with the radiance of Tilion who would come late from the grots and caverns of the roots of Arda. Yet the Aicafionduri flew silently overhead in their ceaseless vigilance, passing over the plains around Amon Ereb as swift flitting shadows in the pale starlight.

Amrod stood alone on the northern balcony, his gaze fixed on where Doriath lay in the distant dark. He thought grimly of the gravity of their planned march, yet the fire of purpose that was re-awoken in him had scarcely abated since his retaking of the Oath. Dior wilfully defied them and therefore left them with no choice. However, there was still a part of him that harboured a forlorn hope that Dior would yet yield the jewel at the last ere any sword were raised.
Looking to the west he saw that the twilight had faded to a black sky as if a distant blanket of cloud now covered all the western horizon. Were it a sign of the Valar's wrath at the Feanorrim's impending actions? Amrod sighed and decided not to dwell upon the grim thought.

He turned and made for the doorway that led into the fortress. At that moment he heard footsteps behind him, coming up the stairway that rose from the courtyard below.

He turned back to see Celegorm striding towards him. "How goes it with you Ambarussa?" asked his brother when he was stood before him.

"All is well Tyelcormo," Amrod replied. "My people and I only await the command to set forth. Should I take it that all is made ready for the morrow?"

"You should indeed!" replied Celegorm with a smile. "We march at sunrise with sharp swords, bright mail and ready hearts! Thus you witness Tyelcormo himself seeking an early rest this night as it shall be a long march of great endurance. Who knows how far off our natural course we shall be forced to travel in order to pass into Doriath unseen? But no matter! We shall have the ever vigilant sight of the Aicafionduri in the airs and the enduring strength of the Amanyar in our limbs. All shall turn out well for us, you will see!"

Amrod returned Celegorm's reassuring smile. He felt his heart stir with sudden anticipation for the long march ahead. It had been Celegorm's gift from their father to have the ability to rouse hearts to his purpose beyond all gainsaying, in matters that touched him near.

"I doubt you not Turcafinwe," said Amrod. "Yet I am not sure as to whether our Strong Finwe should claim to seek an early rest in fear of the strain of a long march as he shall most certainly have the honour of travelling upon his horse, Tyelcarocco. The right to claim such rest in light of the coming toil should remain with those who are not princes or captains, and shall therefore traverse the long miles on foot, being denied the certain comforts that come with high status!"

Celegorm laughed and placed a hand upon Amrod's shoulder. "Ah! You score a point Ambarussa for I can say little in my defence. Yet tomorrow shall be a day of such importance that I should nonetheless be of full vigour to face it. Therefore I will still bid you an early goodnight!"

He bowed to Amrod and strode away through the doorway and down the passage towards the flight of stairs that led to the princes quarters. However, before he was out of earshot he called back, "And being our Little Finwe, I would suggest that you do the same!"

Amrod stared after him, laughing quietly to himself. It gladdened his heart to know he could still share a light moment with his brother amid the grim counsels of war. He then followed in Celegorm's wake but before he reached the stairs, he turned into a large doorway that opened to a wide room.

A shadowy figure passed by behind him in stealth, following after Celegorm up the stairs and was gone.

The room Amrod entered was dimly lit by a bright red glow that came from a large hearth that housed a fine crackling fire. The shadows were long and deep in the flickering light and the air was warm and inviting, scented with burning pinewood. The room was furnished with six low chairs and beside each stood a small round table atop which sat a pitcher of wine and a single large flagon. Many richly designed tapestries hung upon the walls, and there also hung trophies of great twisted antlers of hunted deer and curved horns of wild kine and boar. Animal skins covered the floor.

This was the Sambe an i Haryoni (Chamber for the Princes) that was used by the sons of Feanor at such times when they wished for peace and thought, or the quiet company of each other away from the rest of their people.
Amrod made for the chair that was nearest the hearth and sat himself down, filled his flagon and began to sip the wine. He stretched out and crossed his legs, warming the soles of his boots. His thoughts hearkened back to his hunting days in the Blessed realm where he used to follow the horn of Orome with Celegorm and Amras. There he had learned much of the art and few were accounted greater huntsmen in Middle-earth than he, save Celegorm. Many an hour did those twain spend in that chamber, reminiscing of their ancient days hunting in the vast teeming forests of Orome.

The Vala had taught him much but Celegorm had taught him more. He took another sip of wine and eased further back into the comfort of his chair. It had been long since he and his brother had hunted together in the forests of East Beleriand. He missed the swift chase on horseback; the baying of the eager hounds upon the scent trail; the swooping shadows of the swift Aicafionduri as they bore down upon hunted prey; the camping in the wilds under starry nights and the triumphant return to the hill, laden with the spoils of the chase. Indeed he missed hunting with his brother! Amrod closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift in a sea of warm memories that played out to him in his mind's eye.

There came the approach of voices that returned his senses to the fire-lit chamber. He poured himself more wine and awaited his brothers arrival. The voices drew nearer and surely enough, there appeared Caranthir and Curufin by the doorway.

"Ah! Greetings Ambarussa!" said Curufin loudly with a smile and a mock bow. "You seem undoubtedly ensconced in your repose! Would you begrudge the company of two of your brothers in your solitude?"

Amrod gave him a sidelong glance. "Indeed I would!" came his curt reply. "Yet so boisterous seems your mood, that I would invite you in just so as to make jest of your incessant beaming!"

"Jest all you may," replied Curufin, "yet my heart is high within me! For the first time since we set foot in Middle-earth we have a sure chance of retrieving a Silmaril! It is almost within our grasp as tomorrow shall the first steps be taken towards that goal! So boisterous you say? I am indeed Ambarussa, I am! Therefore gladly make your jests about my mood as it shall only please me to receive them!"

Amrod and Caranthir laughed as the brothers sat down and poured themselves some wine from their pitchers. However, all sat silent for a long while as if unwilling to speak. Each stared into the yellow flames, being deeply engrossed in his own thoughts.

It was Amrod who finally broke the silence. "Curufinwe, do you miss Telperinquar?" he asked.

Curufin's eyes widened in surprise. "I thought I sat to the making of jests at my expense," he replied. "Yet I see that your mind is changed and would rather party me to a cumbersome grilling!"

"Nay! See it not that way," replied Amrod. "Here we are, sat at our ease on the eve of our great march. The days that follow shall be grim and render many a stern deed ere all is ended. I would therefore have the little time we still share in peace to be of closeness among we brothers. The recent years have been hard on us all and seldom have we found the time to be at ease with each other as we used to in the ancient past. Therefore let us sit now as we did then, and speak of things that lie deep in our hearts."

Curufin turned back to the fire and after a moment, gave a long sigh. His brothers watched him, silently wondering if Curufin would answer as he set his flagon to his lips, drained the wine and poured a refill from the pitcher.

"Do I miss Telperinquar you ask?" he said at last. "Do I miss the son who followed not his father into forced exile from Findarato's realm? He who chose to go against the rites of our Oath that would dictate stern action against any who would deal with a Silmaril who was not of the house of Feanaro! Did I not declare him an ill-gotten son who was a traitor to both his father and kin, preferring to stack his lot with those of the house of Arafinwe, the greatest traitor of all! Is this the son whom you would now ask of me?"

He leaned forward with a slightly bowed head and his dark locks hid his face. Yet Amrod and Caranthir heard his next words clearly, though he spoke in the softest of tones. "Yes Ambarussa, I miss my son! Not a day goes by when my thought fails to linger upon his person. No day ends when I do not wonder where he now dwells or to what doom fate has led him."

Curufin slowly turned to face his brothers and faintly smiled at their obvious wonder. "Ah! You are both surprised I see. "Little Father" resembles not his sire as closely as was to be thought! I am not as unforgiving as Feanaro it seems! Yes...Perhaps it is so! Yet at the time of our parting my heart was as shut to Telperinquar as the hearts of the Valar are shut to we Noldor in exile. However, the hardships of our years in Middle-earth are sobering, and there were times when I sat in deep thought and pondered upon our estrangement. And I finally came to realise that as much as I might not condone his actions towards me and our house, I will say that in hindsight I now somewhat understand his choice."

"And how can you say that?" asked Caranthir in amazement. "He is a prince of the house of Feanaro. To go against our Oath and side with those who would hinder our claim can only be viewed as treason, and is punishable by death and the doomed fall into the everlasting dark!"

"Maybe it is so with those of us whose very voices uttered the Oath," replied Curufin. "Yet Telperinquar and our people said no vow, but followed only our lead. The Oath perhaps binds them less than it does us. So could Telperinquar yet renounce the Oath's claim upon him when its doom became too hard for him to endure."

The room was darkening as the fire burned low. Curufin rose and placed new pinewood upon the hearth, stoking the wavering flames to renewed vigour. He then retook his seat, emptied his flagon and refilled it again.

"Not for anything in this world would I set aside my Oath until its fulfilment," he continued. "Yet I will tell you now that I am not proud of my conduct towards Findarato and his people." Caranthir shook his head in disapproval as his dislike for the sons of Finarfin had scarcely abated over the years.
"Findarato was a good elf and wise lord," said Curufin, ignoring his brother. "I cannot forget his grace in harbouring us after the Dagor Bragollach. Neither can I forget the honour and friendship he showed me, nor his treatment of our people that was done with uttermost courtesy and goodwill. Not for naught was he given the epithet "The Beloved" for that he was. Of all the casualties brought about by the doom of the Silmarils, I regret his. And it is for this reason that I have forgiven all my people who remained in Nargothrond, renouncing their bonds of allegiance to me. I understand them for they came to perceive mine and Tyelcormo's actions as treacherous...of which they were!"

Amrod's eyes widened in great surprise but Caranthir stirred in his seat and could no longer keep silent. "Now come Curufinwe! You have said much but you go too far!"

"No you come Carnistir!" answered Curufin. "Are we not to open our hearts here for I merely speak of what is true to my innermost thoughts. Ambarussa was right to ask that we should talk so as I feel all the better for it. A weight is lifted from my heart now that I share this with you."

"Indeed the sharing seems good," replied Caranthir. "Nevertheless, I cannot agree with all I am hearing. The stern deeds we may do in adherence to our Oath cannot be viewed as being treacherous, for all are forewarned of our vow's edicts and the consequences of going against us. Those who would see themselves as being bold enough to set their own claim upon the jewels of Feanaro should learn to leave well alone! That Thingol foolishly named the Silmaril in a bid to quell the passions of his wayward daughter means nothing to us! He should not have done so! Also, Findarato's involvement in the matter was not of our doing but of his own choice. You and Tyelcormo were forced to act in the way you did. For how else could a son of Feanaro have dealt with the tidings that others who were not of the Feanorrim should embark on a quest to regain a Silmaril for a lord of the Sindar no less! If any should be named treacherous it is Thingol whose misguided errand led to the death of Findarato his "beloved kinsman"!"

A silent moment passed in which Amrod turned thoughtfully away and Caranthir sat glaring at the fire with bright flaming eyes. But Curufin leaned back into his chair and drained his flagon.

"However you may see it Carnistir, I tell you now that our thoughts were filled with treachery!" he said. "Our scheming had Findarato set out with almost no aid so that he might surely fail in the task. However, that was not our greatest purpose, for behind all we planned to usurp his throne and seize his realm, thus furthering our power in Middle-earth! But who of the Noldor knows of the hour that the Curse of Mandos should be visited upon him! That fell doom that came upon Tyelcormo and I as dark thoughts arising in our minds that would have us give no more heed to Findarato's grace and goodwill! I am ashamed even now to recall our deeds. But fate would surely out such undeserved treachery and verily was all uncovered in the end and we two sons of Feanaro were deservedly banished!"

He fell silent again, staring at the fire while absent-mindedly tracing the lip of his flagon with his fingers. Amrod bowed his head, his brother's honesty having touched him deeply, and even Caranthir lowered his eyes and spoke no more against his brother's heartfelt confession.

"So you must see," Curufin continued, "I am sundered from my son through deeds of dishonour on my part. For at times the Oath has us forget that we are of high birth, being the children of Finwe. We might in all matters pertaining to our vow, conduct ourselves with honour that is becoming of the princes of the Noldor. Yet our rash errors in Nargothrond have not been made here with Dior. That our noble attempt to entreat with him has come to naught is through no fault of ours. There has been no treachery on our part. Our claim was courteously put and we gave him a fair chance to be honourable and cede the jewel in good faith. However, his choice to refuse shall rest upon his head and his peoples for they have all been forewarned. Therefore in this endeavour for the Silmaril at least, shall I ride with a clear conscience and high hope!"

"You speak for us all toron." said Caranthir after a reflective pause.

"Indeed," said Amrod. "And I thank you for your honesty Curufinwe and deem that wherever he might be, Telperinquar has not forgotten his father and kin. We can only hope that he and the others who remained with him have found a place of respite and shall maybe find their way back to us."

Curufin bowed. "I hope your words to be true Ambarussa, for that is also my wish."

Silence fell again upon the chamber, save the steady hiss and crackling of the fire. After a moment, Amrod turned to stare at Caranthir with a smile upon his face.

Caranthir looked at him with growing irritation. "Well?"

"And so we come to you Carnistir," Amrod said, placing a hand upon his brother's shoulder. "Curufinwe shall not be the only one to tell us of the secrets of his heart. I would ask you of a distant rumour I heard years ago."

Caranthir's brow darkened as he looked away. "Rumour? What is this hearsay you have heard?"

"There was talk of you and a mortal maiden."

At that, Caranthir turned a sharp glance upon him. His eyes were glinting in the firelight.

Amrod's smile widened. "So there is truth to the old rumours! Well, the night is young and the wine is plentiful. Will you not tell us more?"

Caranthir shook his head. "Foolishness!" he muttered.

"Now come!" said Curufin, smiling in the flickering shadows. "Have I not opened my heart to you? I shall not be alone in this. You must speak!"

"I must do nothing!" Caranthir returned. "I did not force you to speak for you did that of your own accord. As for me, I have nothing to say for the rumours were false. Were I to find the insolent ones who would talk so of their princes!"

"You would indeed do nothing!" Curufin cut in. "I too heard the rumour many years ago and little did I doubt the tale though I wondered much on how it came to pass. Indeed, the story was too strange to have been falsified as the questioning conduct of a prince of the royal house of Finwe."

Caranthir slowly turned his dark head towards Curufin. The scowl upon his face was perilous.

Curufin however laid his hand upon his brother's arm. "Do not be angry," he implored, "for I do not mean to offend but to understand. We princes of Feanaro's house have a strange fate in the tale of the world, that is plain. Few who would look to us from the outside would understand our purposes and what drives us to do the deeds we do. However, we brothers have always supported each other and nothing will change that. Therefore I ask you to open your heart to we who are closest to you in trust. Please Carnistir...tell us of the maiden named Haleth!"

For a tense moment, Caranthir regarded Curufin with glaring eyes, his face split by fire and shadow. Then he suddenly turned to Amrod and growled, "See what your foolish bidding would do!" Amrod opened his mouth to protest but Curufin gave a swift shake of his head to silence him. Caranthir drained his flagon, then sat silent with bowed head. He said nothing for so long that his brothers thought he had denied them his confidence. But even as Amrod was about to rise and bid them goodnight, he spoke.

"She was of the Haladin who now dwell in the forest of Brethil.....
At that time they were newly come into Beleriand and dwelt in the south of my ancient realm of Thargelion. There they were content and unmolested for many years, but my people and I gave them small heed as we thought the race of men to be of little worth, being a lesser people made as a hasty afterthought by Iluvatar. For what were the Firimar to the Eldar but a people left wanting at every station when compared with us. We as elves surpassed them in all things. In beauty, in skill, in wisdom, in strength of spirit. They were as wayfaring children to us, come into Beleriand by unworthy chance. Yet the kings and lords of the Eldar took many of them into their service and I thought it were done out of pity.

"To give the race of men a sense of worth by donning them in armour that is too good for them," I said to the laughter of my knights.
"To have men dream of unattainable valour by giving them weapons that in themselves surpass them in value," I scoffed.
For the power of Morgoth was as yet shut in Angband and the lands were free of peril. What better time was there to parade the mortals about the lands, assigning to them the duties of guarding against nothing but a rumoured enemy. After all, what good would they be in real battle, thought I. Nevertheless, I let them dwell in my lands without leave through cold scornful pity.

Thus it stood between our peoples until the time Morgoth sent an orc raid to ravage the race of men. It passed north behind the Ered Engrin and then eastward and so escaped the leaguer. And coming southward the orcs passed back over the Ered Lindon by the passes of the dwarf-road and there, fell upon the Haladin. When word of this finally reached my ears, I was amazed at the boldness of the orcs to instigate such an attack upon my realm. For I deemed it were aimed at my people as I thought nothing of the Haladin, nor fathomed how deeply the race of men might be in Morgoth's dark counsels. So I swiftly gathered a force and rode down to meet the assault.

There we found that the orcs attack was turned against the Haladin who had formed a stockade in the uttermost corner of land between the rivers Ascar and Gelion. Only by their great courage and prowess had they held out as long as they had against foes thrice greater than all their number. Orcs lay dead in heaps, yet their valiant defence was almost overrun as the enemy finally broke through the stockade. Then did I let blow my trumpets of war, and my cavalry drove the shrieking orcs into the deep waters of the rivers. But no boast of deeds in battle did any elf make that day for it was plain the valiant were the Haladin! Indeed, we all looked upon their survivors with wonder as many who fought in that last assault were women and children. Had I not been there and were told of the assault, I would not have believed it. Yet my own eyes had beheld the valour of their desperate last stand.

It was in that final defence that I first beheld her, standing tall with gilded armour and a shining helm. A longsword, blackened by the blood of her foes was held in her right hand, and a dinted shield was strapped to her left arm. She stood there, commanding her folk in lofty defiance of her enemies and I held back our attack, mesmerised by the shining beacon of her valour!"

Caranthir fell silent, his wide eyes reflecting the soft flames of the fire. The brothers could see a faint smile grow that was borne of distant memories, dear and intimate to his heart. Suddenly he turned away, and passed a swift hand over his eyes. He glanced quickly at his brothers and smiled broadly.

"She was strange!" he continued. "Strange and a wonder to behold, standing there in utter defiance against the raging wrath of Morgoth. And even as the enemy thrust aside the final barricades, she fell upon their leading ranks as a fey maiden of war, swift and deadly, with many others rallying to her side. There the black tide was stemmed but the orcs breached many other places, though they paid dearly at each opening. Then was I roused from my stupor, ashamed that I should watch from afar those great deeds, forgetting to take my due place in battle. It were then that we came to their aid and routed the enemy.

When all was done I set there my standard and bid their leader come before me. So it was that she came, striding ahead of her host which crowded behind her in deference to their Lady.

'Are you their leader?' asked I when she was stood before me.

'I am not,' she replied. 'The Haladin have no lords as each homestead governs its own affairs. Yet in the assault our people were gathered together by Haldad my father who commanded us in battle.'

'Where then is Haldad?' I asked. 'If it is he who commands you, let him come forth!'

'My father is dead,' she answered grimly, 'as is my brother Haldar who perished while defending our sire's body from the butchery of those foul creatures. All that is left of my house is my brother's son, Haldan.'

Here she gestured to the crowd and a young boy of no more than ten summers was ushered forward.

She took his hand and held him close. 'The tall elven lord would speak with you, the only man left of our dwindled house,' she said to him with a sad smile as she gently stroked his hair. 'But you are still young, though as valiant as a mighty warrior! Therefore permit me to speak in your stead at this time.'

The boy looked up to her and nodded his child-like assent as she caressed his grime covered cheeks. She then gave a call and he was led away. It were then that I remembered having noted him in battle, fearlessly shooting down the enemy with a small bow. She spoke truly, for the heart of a warrior beat in his small breast.

The Lady then turned to me and removed her helm. Her auburn hair fell about her shoulders, long and pliant. Her face was of earthy beauty, her brown eyes of deep expression. As she stood there, clad as a warrior before me and my knights, I saw her clearly. Her strength, her courage, her patient wisdom, her bold will. She was as a daughter of men born of the archaic essence of Middle-earth: a heavy set rock that overshadows the strewn stones; a flowing river of broad water that is fed by narrow streams; an immovable bastion of a mountain that towers majestically above the surrounding hills. Indeed, fair was that noble daughter of the Firimar.

'I am named Haleth, daughter of Haldad of the Haladin,' she declared. 'I speak for all my people in giving thanks for your most timely arrival that saved us in our hour of need. We know not why the evil came down upon us from out of the heights of the mountains, for naught have we done to rouse the anger of the Dark Power in the north. Be that as it may, we would have you know of our uttermost gratitude. Alas, no gifts can we yet give you as our homes and belongings are all but destroyed.'

'Nay lady,' said I. 'No offer of reward do I ask of you and your people. That you valiantly held back the enemy that would have ravaged my lands is recompense enough. You do not know of my surprise at the courage of men, my surprise at how forward you are in arms! Therefore I am honoured to meet with you this day, and if there be any given requital, it shall come from we Noldor.'

I bowed before her and all my knights that stood there followed suit. Her eyes widened in returned surprise. That made me smile.

'Do not wonder,' I proclaimed, 'for the praiseworthy shall be honoured!' I turned then to the gathered host of the Haladin and bid them set aside their sorrows as they would thereafter have the aid of the Noldor to protect them.

Haleth then looked to me with questioning eyes. 'Yet who are you lord, who has come to our aid and would now proclaim to deliver us from our troubles?'

'I am a repentant elf,' I answered. 'A fool now learned, a lord presently indebted and a prince whose grave respect is now in your keeping.'

She looked at me sidelong with narrowed eyes and I laughed.

"I am named Morifinwe which is Caranthir in the Sindarin tongue that you speak. I am of the house of Feanaro and am lord of these lands that you have dwelt in since birth.'

She bowed low. 'Then pardon my ignorance lord, for surely should I have known to whom these fair lands that we have long since settled, belonged. However, before this day we have scarcely met any of your people, and those whose paths we crossed all but shunned us. Yet perhaps that is still of no excuse as our fathers should have presented themselves to your grace, and formally attained the right to dwell in your lands.'

'That may be,' returned I. 'However, if there was any fault on the Haladin's part it has been remedied, for glad am I now to have let your people be.'"

There Caranthir fell silent, gazing into the dimming flames. "The fire burns low," he said after while. Amrod rose and placed more pinewood in the hearth. The brightening flames crackled and popped as the fire burned with renewed vigour. The brothers each drained and refilled their flagons. Then Amrod and Curufin turned to Caranthir, both deeply taken with their brother's poignant reminiscence. It was to them a strange tale that brought to light a side of Caranthir they seldom saw that was both disconcerting, yet intriguing. All sense of time and place was lost to them in that room on that strange calm night. Tender truths they now told each other that pushed all thought of the Silmarils far out of their minds. As close brothers of old they now were, before grief and grim deeds came upon them. It was perhaps a glimpse of the wise and noble children of Finwe that might have been had fate been, kinder.

"Please go on Carnistir," said Amrod, unable to restrain his interest.

Caranthir smiled. "Such was the first meeting of the son of Feanaro and the daughter of Haldad," he continued. "We were parted awhile as she returned to her people. Their dead were many, as were those lost in the wilds. I therefore lent her my warriors to aid with the burial of the slain and the search for their lost ones. Others I sent to scout the mountains for orcs that might further attack us. Then about my standard I set our camp, raising what shelters we had for the women and children of the Haladin. The wounded we tended, the hungry we fed and the grief stricken we comforted.

Yet my thoughts were ever drawn back to Haleth, hoping to see her return. For three long days I saw naught of her, for she had much to do in the restoring of  her people. Yet on the third night my warden came to my tent and announced her coming. So it was that we met again and sat together alone under candlelight. Our talk dwelt much on the progress of the restoration of the Haladin. Their slain were buried yet many of her people had been found in fearful wandering in the woods. Some were even returning to their homesteads to glean what they could of their belongings.

'All goes well my lord,' she said. 'Soon all my people shall be regathered, and then we shall look to our place of abiding.'

'That is a matter I would discuss with you,' I replied. 'As you know, the Noldor have laid siege to the Dark Power in the north, yet our leaguer does not fully encompass his domain. Only until now have we seen the effect of that weakness, for the orcs in their bold secrecy have proven a threat unforeseen. Beleriand is not as safe as it seemed. But now I realise the great aid unlooked for that has come to the Noldor in the form of the Edain. Therefore what better way to counter Morgoth's power that would terrorise the east than to join the valour of our peoples.
My lady...If you will remove and dwell further north, there you shall have the friendship and protection of the Eldar and free lands of your own.'
TAKEN FROM THE SILMARILLION; CHAPTER 17 "OF THE COMING OF MEN INTO THE WEST"
I spoke in earnest for I would honour the Haladin and have their strength joined to mine. She turned to look at me, her brown eyes thoughtful as she took in my words.

Finally she answered, 'I thank you for your gracious offer, yet I would ask for time to consult with my people as they would surely have their say in this.'

'Indeed,' I replied, silently hopeful. She then turned away and gave a long sigh and seemed to diminish in the half light. Her labours were beginning to take their toll.

'I see that you are full of weariness,' I said with concern. She bowed her head and put a hand to her brow.

'I do what I must for my people,' she replied.

'But what of yourself?' I asked. 'The dark about your eyes shows how you tire. Even a leader must have time for rest.'

She gave me a pained glance and turned away with a hand hiding her face.

'Nay lady!' I said, seeing her apparent shame. 'I mean't no offence. It is out of heartfelt concern that I would speak so.'

Gently, I drew her hand away and bid her look at me. She then seemed to regard me with a piercing glance, searching for my true intent towards her. Did she read then what lay in my heart? That against all convention I was somehow moved to feel for a mortal whom but days ago I had considered naught of in policy as in being!"

Caranthir turned to Amrod and then to Curufin. The sharp features of his face were softened.
"For I felt for her...I will not deny it! Strange is the fate of the sons of Feanaro in Middle-earth says Curufinwe and I say yea to that! Never would I have thought that that would be my doom! But there it is. I did love the mortal maiden Haleth of the Haladin."

Amrod and Curufin looked past Caranthir to stare at each other. As much as they had previously guessed upon hearing the rumour, Caranthir's confession yet amazed them. They both downed their wines together.

After a warm silence Amrod spoke. "I wish I had known this woman. She must have been great indeed."

Caranthir smiled. "She was Ambarussa," he said with a sigh. "Hardy were the Haladin under her leadership and they achieved bold feats under her unwavering guidance. Indeed she would have stood tall with the Ohtatyeronissi, and her name would be held in high honour among them!"

"But the tale is not yet ended," said Curufin, "for many questions still lie unanswered. You have told us of your love but what of hers. Did she return your favour? And if she did, why then did she leave Thargelion with her people?"

Caranthir raised a hand. "I have said far more than I ever thought to tell! Besides, the memories are not easy to endure." Amrod and Curufin began to protest.

"Nay! Do not whine!" said Caranthir, seeing his brothers dismay. "I did not say I shall never tell the full tale. But I tire from all this talk and the wine goes to my head. I shall finish the tale another time...perhaps."

The chamber had darkened again as the fire burned very low and this in a sense signified the end of their intimate conversing. A cool air blew in from the corridor bringing their awareness back to the present. It was the eve of their march to Doriath. The eve of their first steps to attain the Silmaril...their Silmaril.

Curufin stood and raised his flagon. "I drink to your health and to the sharing we have done this night. Yet most of all I drink..."

"To the Silmaril!" Caranthir cried as he rose to his feet.

"The Silmaril!" said Amrod in turn.

"To our Victory!" said Curufin.

The brothers drained their wine and set their flagons down. Yet even as they turned to leave, they heard the sound of music that came from outside. They listened perforce, standing stock still in the dark of the room. The melody of the harp seemed to permeate through the walls, enthralling them with each musical strand, yet it seemed a most sorrowful tune that was both beautiful yet grief stricken.

It was Amrod who first found his voice. "There is only one who can play with such skill."

"Truly! It is Macalaure no doubt who laments, but why?" said Curufin.

"I do not know," replied Caranthir. "But let us go and listen, though my heart tells me we shall dislike what we are to hear."

So the brothers left the Sambe an i Haryoni which dimmed to utter darkness with the fading of the last embers of the fire.

---

Author's Commentary:

I've put an overall description of preparations that may have taken place. The Doriathrim sent spies to make sure that the Feanorrim were not arming for war and they would have been aided by the Silvan elves too. The Feanorrim counter this with the Aicafionduri. Some may say its a very convenient plot device, but remember old Roac and the great ravens of the Lonely Mountain.
This chapter gives the brothers some intimate moments. Maedhros and Maglor have theirs as do Amrod, Curufin and Caranthir. I've always wondered about the Curufin, Celebrimbor situation and I thought I would give my own take on it. The same goes for the Caranthir, Haleth story. Its a pairing that could have actually occurred. Just because Tolkien didn't make it official doesn't mean it couldn't happen. Remember Aegnor and Andreth.
Anyway, the next chapter veers off the beaten path as I explain the origins of the Ohtatyeronissi that Caranthir spoke of.