The Fall Of Doriath by gamil-zirak

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An Autumn's Day

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AN AUTUMN'S DAY

THE FALL OF DORIATH

BOOK TWO THE GATHERING STORM

Chapter Ten...
"AN AUTUMN'S DAY"

Dior sat in deep thought within the Sam-uin-Ennin, pondering the state of affairs of his realm. It had been many weeks since Haldir's return and all had gone according to plan with the sons of Feanor. They were wroth with Dior's answer yet had been persuaded to return to their lands and await his final verdict, which he would give them with the coming of summer.

But Dior was troubled. At first, he and all his lords truly believed that the sons of Feanor were grudgingly placated. Haldir himself had been very clear about this point. The wood elf had no doubt of their sincerity. The two princes had not agreed to Dior's terms with ease and Haldir had barely escaped their wrath with his life. It had been the kind of reaction that seemed genuine for the sons of Feanor. Had Haldir's words been received with ease, that would have roused suspicion against the two princes.

And so the lords of the Doriathrim had sighed their relief as they now had time enough to fortify their realm in earnest. Yet as time went on Dior and a few others pondered upon Haldir's report with growing doubt. Dior had always thought his plan was weak. That the great mind of Curufin would fail to discern the king's ruse was a foolish and dangerous hope. Foolish in underestimating the sons of Feanor, and dangerous in lulling one's vigilance in defending the realm. Indeed, the more Dior thought of what Haldir had reported, the more sinister seemed the princes reactions. Perhaps it were not the ease of acceptance to Dior's terms that should have been seen as a cause for alarm. Rather it was the flawless act of receiving those terms in a manner that conformed to what was expected of a son of Feanor; the legendary pride and seething anger. And yet they had nevertheless ceded to the wishes of their enemy. Dior's deception had worked well...too well!

Dior sighed and shook his head. If this were the case, then matters were far more dire for the Doriathrim than was to be thought. Even now, many of the lords boasted that the sons of Feanor were fooled and would not catch Doriath off guard. That Doriath would be well fortified and protected against any retaliation from the Feanorrim.

"We have the last quarter of autumn and all of winter to prepare," they said. "The dwarves caught us in the throws of grief and confusion, but we have learned from our past mistakes. All the eastern and southern half of our realm shall be fortified and our soldiery shall stand at the ready behind our great defence! Nay, the Feanorrim shall not catch us sleeping!"

Yet the fortifications were far from complete, with many leagues still to be laid in defence. Doriath's soldiery had been working without haste, lulled by the reassurances of their lords that there would be time enough to complete their task. Yet Dior himself saw that he was at fault, withholding his growing doubts by ceding to the unheeding wishes of others. And even if he were wrong, would it not be better to drive his army into relentless labour in a bid to swiftly secure their borders.

The king rose from his seat and paced about his chamber. After a thoughtful while he came to stand before the tapestry of Thingol and Melian as they were stood before their people. There was Thingol, Elwe Singollo, stood in all his glory, majesty and wisdom before his people, many of whom still lived and now looked to Dior for their safety and wellbeing. He looked to the ancient king with questioning eyes. What would his grandsire have done in his place?

There came a knock at the door. "Come," said the king.

Authir entered. "It is lord Haradion, sire."

Dior gave a nod and his old friend entered as Authir closed the door behind him.

"My lord," said Haradion as he bowed his head. Dior returned his greeting with a faint smile. They looked at each other for a moment in discerning silence. The fathoming eyes of one staring into the troubled glance of the other.

"I see your unquiet grows deeper as the days go by," said Haradion.

Dior turned away. "Must a king have a lord who discerns his thought and mood so well?" he said as he returned to his seat.

Haradion smiled and sat himself down. "A lord...perhaps not. Yet a dear friend, doubly so."

Dior looked at him a moment, then he smiled. "And a wise friend at that," he said.

"You flatter me son of Beren!" said Haradion with a laugh. "But nay, this is no time for jests as you are indeed troubled in mind. And I suspect I know what concerns you for I am also disquietened."

Dior gave him a solemn nod. "The days go by Haradion, bringing us closer to an appointed hour of doom. And here we are, the elves of two mighty kindreds, seeking to outwit each other for a portion of the ancient light of Telperion and Laurelin. And behind our scheming lies the threat of war, the like of which would bring Manwe himself great sorrow and grief as the elder Children of Iluvatar should forget themselves and again raise their swords against each other in the most grievous of battles."

Dior leaned forward and grasped his friend's hand. His grey eyes flamed in their intensity. "Haradion, how can I not be troubled by this? How can I not ask myself day and night how this could be for the Doriathrim as well as the Feanorrim. Have the elves not suffered enough through the malice of Morgoth, that we should turn against each other and inflict more sorrow and grief upon ourselves over the spoils of our unfathomable victory over the enemy! How Morgoth should laugh upon his dark throne, deeming the loss of the Silmaril was but a good thing as it would lessen his foes with no cost to him!"

"And yet we are "in the right" as you well know," said Haradion. "The deeds of Feanaro and his sons are yet to be absolved and their claim over the Silmaril is still void. For all their conquest of war against Morgoth, the jewel was ordained to be rescued by one of the race of Men and of the Sindar. The Noldor were denied that honour for a reason! I know you discern the value of that point for in it is the wisdom of The One. It was his will that made its rescue so, and it is his will that we of Doriath should protect the jewel, no matter the dire consequence to us or to the Feanorrim."

Dior bowed his head and sighed. "I know it," he said after a pondering silence, "and I understand it, yet as king of a thriving realm I find it hard to accept it!" He turned back to the Silvan lord. "I fear for us Haradion." he said. "I fear for the outcome of our inevitable confrontation with the sons of Feanaro. Even now my heart tells me they have the advantage, and that the doom of Doriath draws near."

"I understand your fear," said Haradion. "For I too am troubled by the same portent, as is lord Pinadar. Yet all word from my people has been good. The Feanorrim who live among them have given the Silvan elves no reason to be suspicious. No muster has been called, though my kin have been barred from crossing the Gelion to observe the doings upon Amon Ereb."

"And all our scouts have been discovered before they could observe the Hill," said Dior.

"Indeed," Haradion agreed.

"And yet there lies my doubt," said Dior. "For not a single elf of the Feanorrim has been reported to be found spying upon our borders. They adhere to my terms with servile obedience. It is not like the sons of Feanaro to be so, and certainly not when a very Silmaril is in dispute."

"But what more can we do?" asked Haradion.

The king rose and walked over to the great tapestry that depicted Thingol and his queen standing before their people. "We are already upon the threshold of winter," Dior replied after a moments reflection, "and our fortifications are but a few miles past the inflow of the Celon into the Aros. We must double our efforts to reach Aelin Uial and close our borders that look to the Andram before the last quarter of winter."

"That would be a tall order my lord," said Haradion, "for many leagues still lie ahead. Even were the Doriathrim driven to work night and day, they would not achieve your goal."

"Then let them do what they can manage," replied Dior.

Haradion nodded to his king. "And perhaps we can bolster our watching eyes to the south."

"Nay," Dior replied. "We have not the men to spare. Our walls and forts of defence must be of greater priority to us at this time."

Haradion stood and bowed. "Then I shall take my leave my lord, and relay your command."

"A command you do not fully agree with," said Dior, noting his friend's faintly troubled expression.

Haradion smiled. "My role is to advise you my lord, not to gainsay your commands. You are my king whose wisdom and will I set above all else."

"And I pray my wisdom and will are worthy of the honour," said Dior.

Haradion nodded and made his way to the door, but as he set his hand upon its wreathed handle he paused and turned back. "Of all the offspring ever birthed in Middle-earth, you are the greatest. The blood of the three great kindreds resides in you as does the unfathomable favour of Iluvatar himself. Whatever may betide hereafter, I have no fear that you shall lead us to utter ruin. Nay, not though the thousand caves of Menegroth be left empty and bereft of all its peoples. You are the Free Peoples scion of hope and your will and purpose shall not ultimately fail. I can assure you that the sons of Feanaro will never lay their hands upon the Silmaril that was rescued by Beren and Luthien!"

With that, he opened the door and passed out of the chamber.

                                                                                  ~oOo~

"Hurry Lenwen!" called Elurin as he scampered across the great bridge of Menegroth. "And you too Elured. Do you not want to see her?"

Lenwen and Elured passed under the shadows of the stony threshold of Menegroth into the wintry sunlight, walking hand in hand. Behind them came the princes guard, two tall elves named Maenon and Inthan.

"Do not go too far ahead Elurin!" Lenwen countered. "You will see her soon enough."

She turned then to the company of guards that stood beside the oaken gates and bowed to them. Elured followed suit, bringing warm smiles to the soldiers faces as they returned his courtesy.

"It has been long since you were above ground, Saelcund," said one of them.

"It has Warden Candir," replied Elured with childlike solemnity that broadened the elderly grins before him. "Alas, much that my brother and I would enjoy is denied, for our strict nurses watch over us with coddling vigilance." He cast a meaningful glance at Lenwen who scowled at him in return.

"And is that to be wondered at?" she said sharply as her eyes followed the receding high pitched pleas of Elurin. There he was, already on the far bank and flying with gleeful abandon up the greensward towards the leaf shedding alders. "See what happens when we set you loose!"
The guards burst into merry laughter.

"Elurin!" she cried in her annoyance.

"Fear not my lady," said Inthan as he and Maenon strode forward. "We will be with him."

With that they leapt away, sweeping towards Elurin's fading calls with protective purpose. The guards laughed again as they watched the chase commence.

"So it has always been with Baranauth," said Candir. "Ever eager in thought and deed."

"And in mischief!" said Lenwen with a snort.

"Now come," said another guard. "Forgive the boy as he seeks one he has sourly missed. And she has missed him too...both of them. For many days we have noted her watching the oaken doors from across the river in the forlorn hope that her two little friends should be released from their captivity to come out and play."

"Do not mistake me Barathor as I do not begrudge them this friendship," replied Lenwen. "Yet these are days of mounting doubt for all who live in Doriath and the forests are not as safe as they once seemed. To have Elured and Elurin wander the pathless wilds with but a maiden and a pair of guards to mind them is not at all to my liking."

"Needless is your concern," said Candir. "The vigilant eyes of Doriath's soldiery are ever present to protect them. Of that you can be assured."

"Well that is yet to be seen," sniffed Lenwen as she straightened with a raised brow. "But I suppose I will have to trust you all to see to your duty."

"And yet I do not think you can be trusted to see to yours!" cried Elured as he tugged at Lenwen's hand, ignoring her incredulous stare. "For as I recall you were bidden to escort me and my brother to a merry meeting with our friend. Yet here we stand in tiresome conversation with the guards of the gates. Come Lenwen, let us go."

With that, the young prince dragged his nurse away to the raucous laughter of the soldiers.
"O Manwe save me from this princely cheek!" wailed Lenwen as they passed over the bridge. Soon they came to the broad highway that led away northward. "Now where is your truant brother?" fumed Lenwen as they looked about them.

The road stood empty and all was quiet save for the low rustle of the meagre leaves that were still tethered to the bowing trees. Elured's wide eyes looked this way and that as his ears pricked up in their effort to catch any revealing sounds. Lenwen was about to call out when the young prince gave a cry of excitement.

"There!" he exclaimed, pointing at the trees to the left of them. "There is laughter in the meadow beyond. Let us go!"

Elured led his nurse forward, passing through the thinning foliage until they emerged out into a rolling meadow of open grass that was littered with nodding daisies. There was Elurin, clasped in the arms of a laughing maiden. She nimbly spun in place upon twirling bare feet. Her face was young, fair and merry and her unbraided golden hair swept with wavy abandon in the kind airs. Suddenly she halted with graceful ease as she noted the newcomers. She kissed Elurin's brow, set him down and gazed at Elured expectantly. The young prince looked up at Lenwen who nodded her assent to him. With that, Elured sprang forward and ran straight into the maiden's waiting arms. Lenwen smiled to herself and turned to see Maenon and Inthan who were stood within the shadows of the bordering trees, unintrusive in their vigilance.

"Watch over them," she said softly to the two guards who both nodded in return. She gave a last glance at the joyful reunion and sighed.
"Warm friendships between gentle sweethearts should not be denied by cold counsel," she thought, being moved by the heartfelt scene. She began to make her way back to Menegroth and silently pledged to give the princes more time than was allocated to spend with their dear friend.

The maiden released Elured from her embrace and clasped his beaming face between the soft palms of her hands. "It has been too long Saelcund," she said as she kissed his brow.

"Yes it has dearest Nellas," replied Elured.

                                                                                         ~oOo~

The Hall of Awakening stood shrouded in a silence of meditative peace, save for the occasional drops of falling crystalline orbs that were loosed from coiling cones of moist stone that hung from the domed ceiling, and fell through the airs to meet still waters in dissipating rings of wavering evidence. There were no lamps or torches in the hall as it were lit by a multitude of glowing gems embossed in the ceiling in the form of the constellations of the stars. Flaming rubies glittered as Borgil and Carnil. Sea blue sapphires pulsed as Luinil and Helluin. Silver diamonds flashed as Elemmire, Nenar and Wilwarin. And spread wide in a glorious cacophony of twinkling light were the many coloured gems of Menelvagor, Remmirath and Valacirca.

Their wondrous dazzle was reflected beneath them by the dark waters of a deep cold lake that took up three quarters of the long cave. White sands that had been lain by the elves bordered its western edge where the arched entrance to the cave stood. Here were many carven benches and seats, set about the dim shore for the Doriathrim to sit in quiet contemplation of their ancient beginnings. And so lord Pinadar sat there as he loved to do. He was alone in his favourite hall and all knew that if he could not be found elsewhere, he was sure to be found here. This and the Hall of the Two Lamps that stood across from it had been a great wish of Thingol in their making. Timeless halls that represented the era of beginnings.

Pinadar sighed. He was filled with great melancholy at the thought. Here he spent his time, surrounded by a visual memory of the elvish birthplace whilst the doom of Doriath crept ever nearer to his land. He felt this in the air, the wind and in his heart. The elves had indeed fallen low from those times of high hope and wonder to the here and now, teetering upon the brink of evil war.
The Hall of Awakening had always been Pinadar's inner sanctuary, a place to ponder on what it was to be an elf, as well as their role and place in the world. And long had he been content as his inner sanctuary was protected by the archaic outer realm that was Doriath, itself protected from the trammels of without by the Girdle of Melian. But that protective enchantment had been stripped away and the chill from outside could be felt even here in the hallowed depths of Menegroth.

Could Doriath survive yet another assault to its existence, or would Thingol and Melian's island be drowned by the waves and tidal flows of grim change. The Doriathrim under their mighty king and queen had always sought to uphold the culture of elves that should have been, had they been left to grow and thrive from Cuivienen without the changes brought about by the Valar and the blemish of Morgoth. It had been a most noble notion but ultimately doomed to fail. The perpetual storm that raged about Doriath was bound to find an inlet in the end and it did in the form of the Silmaril, that jewel whose doom was a strange concoction of glory and heavy darkness.
"Now is Doriath drawn into the fate of a mightier realm," were the wise words of Melian the Maiar.

Pinadar looked about the hall with sad eyes. "As always, you were right my queen," he said to himself. "Alas, a power greater than yours came knocking at our door, for good and for ill. It was through no fault of ours as it was fated to be so."
The old elf sighed again and bowed his silvery head. Dior's attempt to raise again the glory of the ancient realm was honourable but the damage had been done. Things would never be the same for Doriath. Its noontide and glory had come and gone and it was but a matter of time before the realm was extinguished forever. Pinadar frowned a little at the black thought, but it were better that he face the truth. He was just an old elf holding onto a bygone era of ancient hopes and dreams.
"It matters not," he said softly to himself as he set his eyes upon the still waters that glittered before him. "I was born by the birth-waters, and I shall die by them."

                                                                                          ~oOo~

A fair gathering of maidens sat at their ease inside the spacious grotto that looked to the ornamental garden within the Menelrond. It was lavishly furnished for comfort, and softly lit by candles of scented wax. Sheltered walkways, formed of intricately carved vines and creeping plants led away from it to branching intersections where gushing fountains sprouted their silvery falls. A minstrel was softly playing by the nearest marble basin, captivating his attentive audience with heart-breaking skill. But the women who sat inside the grotto paid him no attention, for they had more pressing matters to discuss.

"Must you be so tongue tied when you speak of him Morfinneth?" said Barawen, to the grins and soft laughter of the other women who sat there. "The part of timid blushing maiden may be attractive to some, but not to his sort I think. The men of the Golodhrim are stern and proud as are their women. Perhaps you could learn more from Oriel here as she is of their kind."

"Do not listen to her Morfinneth," said Oriel, shaking her head. "Our Noldorin men are not only moved by what Barawen says. They can love both the dainty and the severe."

"Comforting," returned Barawen, "but not entirely true. At least not according to what my husband tells me."

"And what has your Golodhrim lord told you?" asked Morfinneth. "That he and his kin prefer women who hold themselves as proud warrior queens who delight in plain talk and hardihood, and slight gentle displays of affection and loving thought?"

Barawen smiled. "You have said it."

"Then you know little of the women of the Noldor and their men, though you have dwelt with us for a time and are wed to one yourself," said Oriel, garnering more laughter from the audience.

Barawen stiffened at that. "You shall no doubt enlighten me," she simmered softly.

"Perhaps I shall," replied Oriel. "For as true as that might have been with us long ago when we first settled upon these shores and the fires of our spirits still flamed with ripe purpose, grief and sorrow have tamed us at last. The Noldor through necessity became a war-like people of stern warriors and grave women, but our pride has been curbed by our defeats. However, we have mercifully learned to enjoy and appreciate the gentler things in life as we did aforetime in Aman. And nowhere else has our melancholy for ease and peace been more apparent to us than here in Doriath. Within the Girdle our grim lords were no longer hounded by the policies of bitter war, and our women ceased the airs and graces of a haughtiness which sought to complement their brazen men in stature and thought."

"And yet the Girdle of peace you found here is no more," said Barawen. "Surely the forgotten haughtiness of the Golodhrim is needed all the more to steel us, now that we face the threat of war."

"Maybe," Oriel replied. "But we are a changed people now who yearn to indulge in simple pleasures." She turned to Morfinneth. "Therefore be yourself to your chosen lord, gentle-heart. For I have noted his regard for you and believe me, he is content with what he sees. You need not change for him as you are wanted just the way you are."

"That was well said," uttered a voice. The ladies turned to it and all stood and bowed.

"Forgive us my queen," said Oriel, "for we heard not your approach."

"Ah!" said Nimloth with a dismissing wave of her hand. "Must you all be so formal with me?" She smiled warmly. "Even queens lose their stateliness when the important subject of love is discussed among their maidens." The women all lowered their heads and gave shy grins.
"Please sit," said the queen. The ladies complied and arranged themselves back into their places. "I gather we are to lose another of our maidens to one of the Golodhrim," Nimloth continued. The ladies looked at each other with nervous surprise.

"Nay my lady," said Morfinneth after an uncomfortable silence. "Barawen was only making fun of me."

"Do not lie to the queen," returned Barawen. "We all know of the feelings you have for your paragon, and I was merely giving you sound advice on how to gain his favour..."

"Upon which Oriel sought to give her own view of things," finished the queen.

Oriel opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. The Doriathrim losing maidens to the Noldor observation made her think twice about adding to it. But the queen smiled knowingly at her hesitation.
"Worry not," said Nimloth, directing Oriel a reassuring grin. "I am not opposed to the joining of our kindreds through love and marriage. Indeed I welcome it. However, Barawen has raised a point that interests me." The queen paused and motioned to the centre of the gathering where the ladies made room for her. "War is a terrible thing," Nimloth continued as she sat down, "and grief and loss are not all it leaves in its wake. It hardens soft hearts and darkens fair souls through their grim need to cope with its toll. Men become stern and brazen warriors with proud women at their sides."

The queen's sharp glance strayed about her, surveying her attentive audience. The lyre's soft notes came faintly to them from a faded background.
"I remember how we of the Doriathrim used to look askance at our Golodhrim brethren, deeming them to be over-proud upstarts, revelling in their great war. And they no doubt saw us as timid underlings who cowered behind their queen's power." Nimloth sighed. "Perhaps we were both right in our disrespect of each other. And yet only now am I beginning to see the merits of both our ways. For the Sindar adhered to the archaic ways that elves followed before the Dark Lord returned. And our culture of living so was protected by a girdle of enchantment. Could we be blamed for upholding our values that dictated a life of unbounded peace? Is that not the right of all the Free Peoples of Middle-earth?

And yet the Golodhrim could not be so wanton in their pursuit of joy and delight. They lived in the surrounding wilderness, with ever the lurking dangers of Morgoth near at hand. They indeed strove for peace yet it was watchful all the same...until the breaking of the Siege. Thereafter the horrors and terrors from without only came to us as dark tales, as told by those of the Sindar who fled and were admitted to our protected land. Yet could we know how it was to live under the constant threat of death or capture? Could we truly understand the forced hardihoods and tribulations our brethren endured to survive the ensuing years of terror?

We scoffed at the thought of the Golodhrim women who held themselves as their men in being proud warrior queens who fought with swords, spears and bows. For what noble lady of Doriath would debase herself in such a manner. We did not understand the desperation of a beleaguered people. And yet we were all put to utter shame by Luthien Tinuviel, who by the sheer right of her beauty and glory should have had the elvish warriors of all the elven kingdoms set before her in righteous defence ere she caught but a glimpse of the lowliest of Morgoth's servants to taint her blessed sight.

She was the Doriathrim's first warrior queen who went out into the dark world about us, and faced the perils of the enemy. Yet we as women learned nothing from her great deeds. Only as a rousing tale did her desperate courage touch our hearts. However, a test for us would finally come with the lifting of the Girdle and the ensuing dwarven attack. But the women of Doriath did not rise up to defend their homes. Nay, they fled away in fear! It was a mercy that the dwarves did not pursue them. Yet think of the advantages our men might have had, had we fought at their side. Our aid might have turned the tide of battle and lessened the cost of lives we paid in defeat.

Now I know I am not alone in mourning, yet many of my house who perished may have survived had our women been there to swell Doriath's defence. Galathil my father, Galadhon my grandfather, and Elmo, the brother of the king are some whom I lost in that grievous battle. And yet you too have many names of loved ones, now consigned to yearning memory by death. Should it be so again if the sons of Feanaro come with war to Menegroth? Should we as women flee before our enemies or helplessly throw ourselves prostrate before them as we sue for mercy while our men are butchered about us? If donning armour and wielding weapons in a bid to fight for what we love is beneath us, are we then not the ones who should be accused of having airs and graces? And yet to what haughty end if we are to lose all we have cherished and built."

Nimloth sighed and shook her head. She then set her wide gaze to the gathering that had grown since she began to speak. Even the minstrel had ceased playing and now stood among them as his own audience had deserted him. Many a thoughtful glance permeated the thickened crowd as it digested the thoughts of the queen.

"My ladies," Nimloth continued, "Doriath has changed. We can no longer hope to live as we used to behind the generous protection of Melian. We all must do our part to defend our home. We as women must set aside the harp and learn to wield the sword. We must closet our gowns to don fitting armour." She turned to the minstrel and smiled. "And forgive me Curulaer, but our ladies must shun the graceful steps of song and learn the grim dance of battle."

"And who of our women would be willing to fight, my queen?" asked one. "Only a few if any would have a stomach for such grim work."

"You would be surprised Faervanel," replied Nimloth. "As women we are no different from you men in strength of hand, or in our capacities for boldness. The Golodhrim have taught us that. And we love our realm as you love it. Therefore if you are prepared to fight for your family as fathers, then why not Doriath's mothers. And if you are prepared to fight for your children with your sons at your side, then why not Doriath's daughters. Aye, I deem we can stomach just as much as you men. We only have to try."

"And yet would the lords of Doriath assent to such a thing, my queen?" asked another in the crowd. "To have their wives and daughters fight as soldiers!"

"I must admit to you all that this is but a growing notion in my mind and I have yet to broach it with our lords," Nimloth replied. "It may or may not garner their support, yet the sense of it cannot be ignored. A final doom lies before our kingdom and if we are defeated my heart tells me Doriath shall fall too low to ever rise again. The stakes are too high to leave its fate to archaic sentiment. Therefore we all must be prepared to defend our homeland or collectively perish, with but a handful of leaves hopefully spared to be blown away into the houseless wilds."

"But who will teach us to fight if our lords refuse, my queen?" asked Barawen.

The few men who stood there looked at each other with troubled glances that spoke of their unwillingness to break the ancient customs. Many ladies also stood there with downcast eyes, dreading the task put to them by the queen. Could they find it in themselves to take up arms when the time came? Did they have the courage needed, or indeed the skill required? Nimloth looked at their faces and read their doubt. It was truly a desperate notion, yet her unease with Doriath's situation grew each day, forcing her to come up with plans of her own in a bid to quell her rising fears. She thought to say more in support of her words when a voice spoke.

"I will teach you," said Oriel. All heads turned as one to face her. "And my Noldorin sisters will help me."

                                                                                           ~oOo~

The wind was thankfully mild and uncharacteristically accommodating to those who walked far below. At its swirling insistence, the cloudy sky parted and let through ragged holes of lofty blue and pale rays of fitful sunshine. Indeed, in comparison to the dreary weeks that had gone before, it was a day of glad weather that demanded a pastime of playful abandon. And so it was with the three playmates who ran, skipped and laughed their merry way through the woods of Neldoreth. They climbed up trees and frolicked in the grass. They hand-fed the forest animals and picnicked in the meadows. They sung to the birds and danced with the deer. It was indeed a glad day of sheer delight for them all.

Soon they came to rest by a little gurgling stream that meandered fitfully through a narrow trough between a low hill and a vaulting green slope that rose to a crowned height of beeches. The two young princes sat upon either side of the fair maiden, who put her slender arms about them and drew them close. They all had their splashing feet in the cold waters, laughing at the silvery froth and darting fish that fled the churning commotion. After a while they sighed their contentment and lay upon their backs, gazing at the passing clouds and smiling when pale rays of sunlight momentarily caressed their faces.

Elurin turned to look at Nellas. Her golden hair was spread upon the green grass as a wavy rich blanket. Her upturned face was a vision of joyful innocence, with wide staring eyes of child-like wonder and rosy lips that parted now and again to a gentle smile.
"How wonderful it is to be with you again!" said Elurin as he gazed at her. "Seldom have I laughed this much or had such amusement at play."

Nellas turned to him. "That is not good," she said with a soft frown. "A child of your tender age should always be cheerful, finding laughter and delight in all the innocent joys that surround you. For when you grow older they will lose their precious sheen."

"But how is such not yet lost to you who are much older than us?" asked Elurin. "You are still as happy as a merry lass."

"And as delightful as a midsummers day," put in Elured, "with all the joyful pleasures that come with it."

"Why thank you Saelcund," said Nellas as she planted a swift kiss upon his brow. "But I am blessed to be singular in my nature," she added with a grin and a wink.

"But I want to be like you Nellas," said Elurin. "I never want to lose the sense of wonder and innocence of my youth. When I grow older I do not want to become stern like lord Haradion, or grim and sullen like lord Tirithalui, or proud and aloof like lord Tuornen."

Nellas' face darkened at his words and she sat up, staring blankly at the wavering stream and the fish that now languidly swam by. The two princes gave each other questioning glances before sitting up too. Each knew something was amiss.

"Nellas?" came Elurin's tentative plea.

The maiden sighed and smiled half-heartedly at the boy. "Dearest Baranauth," she said softly with a tender hand to his cheek. "You will grow to become a fine man." She turned and laid her other hand upon Elured's fair head. "As will you Saelcund. But know that with maturity comes responsibility, and you two as princes of Doriath shall have more responsibilities than most. In growing up your minds will be drawn to the higher matters of the kingdom, and your child-like regard shall fade away." Nellas sighed again and lowered her eyes. "And perhaps it is not such a bad thing, that."

She then fell silent, looking forlorn and withdrawn as if her words saddened her. But then she looked up at them and spoke with forced joviality.
"However in support of the lords you mentioned Baranauth, let me say that they are stern, grim and proud in their noble intent to preserve Doriath and its glory from the evils that would destroy it. They look after this land to protect the happiness within. The same happiness we indulge in this very day. That is their duty and responsibility which will be yours one day.

And yet have you witnessed them when they are merrymaking during the Midsummer Festivities? Lord Haradion the Stern is a mighty singer whose songs are of a beauty that induces all to gladly listen. Lord Tirithalui the Sullen skilfully plays the harp, setting all who hear his music to dance with gleeful abandon. And how wonderful is lord Tuornen the Proud when he dances! They too have their innocent pleasures from which one can discern an echo of their child-like wonder and glee. Indeed, I deem they have not altogether forgotten the joys of their youth." Nellas' face darkened again. "Not like he did," she added softly.

"Not like who did?" asked Elured.

But Nellas did not answer as she seemed caught up again in her rapture of melancholy. The wintry rays of the sun dimmed as a persistent band of clouds swept over their meagre radiance, deepening the grey pall over the forest as the airs grew colder. The dip in the weather seemed to rouse Nellas for she abruptly rose and held out her hands.

"Come my princes," she said. "We have tarried long enough. I must return you home."

The trio made their way hand in hand up the steep slope to the beech crowned summit. There they came to the highway that paved a long winding path to the abandoned forts of the north and western marches. The road was littered with fallen leaves of yellow and brown, and not a few dried nuts. The beeches themselves hemmed its grey path for as far as the eye could see and thickened as they marched down the southerly slopes. Nellas and the princes turned eastward and walked awhile in silence. They met none on the road and there was a lonely air about the woods. But Nellas said that the boys should not be fooled as there were hidden outposts in the hills about them where the soldiery of Doriath kept a vigilant watch.

"And do not forget Maenon and Inthan," she said with a grin, "who are skulking in the trees to the left of us in their vain attempt to follow us unseen." They all waved in that direction to the amusement of the two hiddenguards, and burst out laughing. After that Nellas' mood seemed to rise again, and they merrily went on.

Now they came to a place where the road began to rise upon a long slope. Far ahead at the crest of the slope was that point where the main highway that led to the great bridge intersected with the road they were on, which led on down to the second bridge that spanned the Esgalduin to the north of the stony hill. At the slopes mid-point stood a beech that was taller than the rest. It could easily be seen, towering over the road and its brethren. On previous excursions the boys had pleaded with Nellas that they be allowed to climb it and take in the wide view it supposedly gave of the lowland meadows and valleys of Neldoreth. Nellas however had constantly refused them, and always gave that section of the road a wide berth, preferring to cut through the open meadow to the right so as to reach the highway where it curved towards the great bridge.

Elured had wondered why she always denied them for they indeed climbed many a tree with her and sat in the high branches with the scampering squirrels and nesting birds. It were as though she avoided that place and that tree. She would always take their hands when they protested and almost flee with them to the meadow with her head turned away from the slope as if it were a place of dread. And so he now stood, looking thoughtfully at the distant tree with its many long branches and crowded leafy cover that still denied the autumn winds their flight. Nellas and Elurin had already left the road as they made their way to the meadow beyond. They were laughing at an amusing tale she now told about the prickly meeting between a hungry fox and a protesting hedgehog that she had once witnessed.

Suddenly Nellas halted, turned to Elured and gave a glance to where the prince's gaze was turned. She then called to him. "Now hurry Elured or you will be left behind!"

The young prince however did not move. "Tell me why you are afraid of that tree Nellas," he replied, with his gaze still fixed upon the mysterious beech.

"I am not afraid of any tree," she replied a little irritably. "Now come for we have spent more time away than was given us. I for one do not relish the stinging reprimand I shall receive from Lenwen your nurse if we delay any further."

Elured bowed his head and gave a little sigh. He then turned to Nellas and saw a mounting distress in her fair face. His young brow creased a little with thoughtful concern and he came towards her with an outstretched arm to clasp her hand in his. But as she turned to go he pulled her back.

"Nellas," he said. "We are all dearest friends and when something is amiss with any of us it must be shared and the stricken consoled."

"All that is amiss here is your delay," she returned with rare heat. "I do not choose to go that way because it is the longer route to Menegroth from where we stand that can be halved if we go through the meadow. And I would not have you climb so tall a tree for the simple reason of your safety. Those are my reasons, now heed my will and let us go!" She turned away but was still held back. "Oh Elured what confounded obstinacy has come over you this day!" she cried.

Elurin now looked up at Nellas and saw her wavering eyes and caught the glistening rumour of tears. His beautiful face darkened a tint and he turned to his brother. "Stop this harassment at once Elured!" he cried. "We have had a blessed time today that you should ruin it at the end. Apologise to her at once and let us get on."

Elured brought Nellas' hand to his lips, kissed it and then held it to his cheek. "I do apologise to you Nellas," he said. "I apologise for whatever old grief ails your sweet heart and I apologise for not seeking to console you sooner. But I cannot do so if I do not understand your sorrow. What happened in your past that cast such a shadow over so merry a maiden? Please Nellas, tell me and make us understand so that we might heal you of your pain. For of all the elves who dwell in Doriath, you deserve such agonies the least."

Nellas stared at the young prince for a moment. Elured could feel her hand tremble as she vied pitifully with her roused grief. Her glistening grey eyes brimmed and mournfully loosed their sad tears. She bowed her head as she sobbed and both princes drew close and clasped their arms tightly about her. A brisk wind swept by, plucking a shower of fluttering gold from the nodding branches of the surrounding trees that creaked and groaned their complaint. The leaf strewn forest floor was riled by the breeze to reveal hunched hedgehogs and lumbering badgers feasting on their woodland delights, the snails, the millipedes and the woodlice. Squirrels raced down the smooth grey bark of the tree trunks and leapt to the ground to forage upon a newly revealed vista of brown nuts. A wren emerged from its domed nest near the roots of a nearby beech. The mound of dried yellowish leaves that had aided in the cover of his doorstep were blown away and the bird gave an offended cry.

The noise startled the trio who turned to see the indignant wren give its quivering tail to the world and disappear back into the recesses of its home. Rays of sunlight shone down from the heavens and coloured the woodlands with warmth as the doleful autumn clouds above, parted. Nellas ceased her sobbing, wiped her teary eyes and gazed at the bright teeming woodland floor. It seemed for a moment that even nature would do its part to console her. She smiled and looked down at the two boys who were grinning back at her. She knew then that she would be alright.

"Very well," she said softly with a nod. "I will take you to the Forsaken Tree."

                                                                                            ~oOo~

The oaks rose high above the grasslands that spread before them. Rank after rank of hoary sentinels whose huge grey knobbly ridged trunks and thick crooked limbs spoke of an ancient growth that stood immutable to the changes of time. Their towering fathers dwelt in the nearby forest of Nivrim, and they had been seeded by the elves to be a vast bastion of nature that was reared along Doriath's southerly border to give the realm the vaulting protection that the smaller holly trees of Region never could. Aforetime, when the Girdle of Melian was in place, the oaks had been shrouded in a mysterious mist that had served to pronounce their epic stature. The sight of the giant trees eerily entwined limbs that clasped at one another with strangling purpose; the vision of their crusty bark that was akin to the indented hide of a wood-demon; the sinister rustle of their bristling leaves that whispered dark threats to the winds, all shrouded within the coiling vapours of enchantment was determent enough for those who thought to enter unbidden. And even though the mists had long since dispersed with the lifting of the Girdle, their impregnable stature remained.

In one of these giants, among the twisted thickness of the branches that crowned its height, peered sharp eyes that surveyed the flowing river and the grasslands that lay before them. Four elves sat upon a wooden platform that was built around the tapering bole of the oak. They were watchers, guarding their designated area with ceaseless vigilance. The oak had shed many a fallen leaf and much of it was bare, yet the elves were brown clad and donned in cloaks of grey that made them hard to discern. They spoke to each in soft tones, discussing the small matters of their lives and duties, as well as the larger matters of the realm and its present predicament.

"How many days has it been?" asked one.

"Too many for me," replied another. "I miss my wife and daughters. And I long for my newborn son whom I left in the cradle."

"And longer shall you yearn for them, Durthor," said a third. "For I doubt there shall be a change of guard for us any time soon."

"Aye," said the first. "Most of Doriath's soldiery labour to the east in their effort to reach us. There are hardly any men to spare."

"Truly so, Meldir," said Durthor. "And I know I am not the only soldier guarding our borders who is sundered from his family, many of whom may complain less." He sniffed the air and gave a sour look. "But I am unsettled by this strange pestilence of black rot that oozes beneath the trees and fouls the airs. I would rather have been assigned to guard the wholesome halls of Menegroth than these diseased borders."

"It is a malady that is the harbinger of the evil to come," said the third with a dark look upon his face.

"You have always taken a grim view of things, Himon," said Meldir. "But I do not think the sons of Feanaro will come to Doriath with war."

"How I wish you could tell that to the dead of Alqualonde," Himon returned.

"But that is ancient history," countered Meldir. "Surely the sons of Feanaro are tamed by the Curse they brought upon themselves for those wicked deeds. They would not seek to further compound its fell doom upon their people."

"Would they not?" asked the forth. He was seated apart from the others, staring into the grey overcast skies. The others all turned to him.

"No, Hinluin." said Meldir. "I do not think they would, but you certainly think otherwise. Yet I am interested in your opinion as you are of the Golodhrim and know them well."

Hinluin rose and went to the very edge of the platform where he leaned against a sturdy bough. "Perhaps I do," he said as he gazed southward. "At least when it comes to the Silmarils. And so should all who see the Noldor in Middle-earth. For Feanaro and his sons upped and left the glorious land of Aman for those jewels, and dragged the Noldor with them through sheer force of will. They had us defy the warnings of the Valar and ignore the terrible Curse that would doom our enterprise. Such was the strength of their intent! And if they could engage in a war with the mightiest of the Valar then what of the Doriathrim. Have they not slain their fellow elves before? Yea, I understand them well, and know that they will stop at nothing to regain the Silmaril."

"But surely time and experience may alter embedded counsels," said Meldir with hope.

"Maybe, but not theirs," replied Hinluin. "No vast amount of time or grim experience can alter the vow they took. The Oath is what drives them and it shall inform all their counsels until its fulfilment." A chill hissing wind invaded the oaks from the south and Hinluin peered again at the gloomy skies.

"I had hoped we might be spared of this feared atrocity," said Meldir, raising his hood over his head. "but perhaps that was wishful thinking on my part."

"It was," said Himon. "But thank Hinluin, for to be schooled thus is to be better prepared for when the sons of Feanaro come."

"Yet that preparation may be vain with me," said Meldir, "as I am filled with dread. For with the orc there is no shame in the slaying. It was hard with the dwarves but I managed it. However, slaying others of the Eldar! I do not think I have the heart for it, be he my enemy or no.

"Then find a good enough reason to fight!" said Himon with heat. "There is vengeance for our slain kin of Alqualonde."

"And protecting your realm and your loved ones," put in Durthor.

"Or defending yourself with the sheer effort to survive," said Hinluin. "That is as good a reason as any."

Meldir was a little surprised at the collective conviction of the others. He had not thought them to be so ready for a conflict with the Feanorrim. But then again, he realised the sense of it. If he did not fight he would be a victim, and he did not want to die.

Himon put his hand upon Meldir's shoulder as he eyed him intently. "Are those reasons enough my friend," he said.

Meldir sighed and conceded. "I reckon so," he replied. He then looked up at Hinluin who had bowed his head to the branch in a pose of weariness or stress. "It must be difficult for you and your folk, Hinluin." he said. "For the Feanorrim are your kin."

Hinluin raised his head and to Meldir's surprise, the Noldorin elf was smiling. "We are prepared to defend our home from whosoever would seek to destroy it, even those of our brethren. But as for me, my reasons to fight are not of self preservation only. I too have loved ones of both the Noldor and Sindar whom I would protect."

"You have not spoken of your family to us yet," said Durthor. "Or of your wife and children."

"My family was slain in Nargothrond," replied Hirluin with sadness. "However I have no wife or children, though a maiden has caught my eye."

The others grinned at that. "And who is this dark haired beauty of the Golodhrim who demands your attention?" asked Himon.

"She is of the Doriathrim," replied Hinluin with unseeing eyes that beheld gentle visions of whom he thought. "And her hair is as golden as the tall wheat fields that sway in the pastures of Yavanna." A warmth came over his face as he spoke and the others turned to each other and shook their heads in soft laughter.

"And does this nymph of an elf have a name?" asked Meldir.

Hinluin looked at his comrades. "Of course she does. Her name is Morfinneth."

                                                                                          ~oOo~

Nellas and the two princes stood before the Forsaken Tree, staring up at its tall height. Its long, slender light-grey trunk rose one hundred and fifty feet to a large and widely spreading crown. Its lower branches were long and reached outward, but the arms in the upper airs became erect as if they would hold up the sky. The tree still had many autumn leaves of yellow and brown that hung limp upon crooked twigs. It was indeed very tall but no different from the rest. The princes wondered what was so unique about it that would cause such disquiet to Nellas.

She herself stood before it with eyes that held a great sadness. Her mournful gaze lingered upon the smooth grey bark near the tree's base and the numerous etchings scrawled upon it by nature. Nellas let go of the princes hands and approached the tree with tentative steps, putting out a trembling hand to touch it with her finger tips and slide them along the bark as she circled the ten foot wide bole. She then halted and looked up to its grand height.

"It is long since I last stood so near," she said to it, "and you have changed little in my absence. But now I would ask that you forgive our parting, as the grief of memory was too much to bear."

The princes glanced at each other questioningly. "What grief is this Nellas?" asked Elured.

She gave a sigh and patted the tree's bole. "I knew a boy once," she began. "He was not much older than you two when I first came to know him." She turned and sat herself down by the huge roots and beckoned to the princes.

The boys came forward and sat themselves down beside her. "Who is this boy you speak of?" asked Elurin. "Do we know of him?"

"I would think so," replied Nellas. "For he came to be known by all the elves and men of Beleriand. Upon the west-marches of Doriath he was called the Dragon-helm. As an outlaw in the woods south of Teiglin he was named Neithan. In the lands of Dor-Cúarthol about the hill of Amon Rudh he was known as Gorthol. There in the halls of Nargothrond he was both Agarwaen and Mormegil. And finally in the woods of Brethil he went by the name Turambar. But the name given to him by his mother and father was Turin, who was the son of Hurin Thalion and Morwen Eledhwen."

The princes both gasped and stared at Nellas with wide eyes of surprise. "You knew the great hero Turin?" exclaimed Elurin.

Nellas laughed. "Of course Baranauth. It was I who reared him in his youth here in Doriath. I taught him our speech and gave him the names of our trees and flowers. I introduced him to the forest animals and we went birds-nesting in the trees." She smiled then at the memories. "I gave Turin much joy and laughter that came seldom to him, and for a little while he was content."

The princes turned to each other and shook their heads with mouths still agape in amazement. "But how is it that naught is known of the woman who raised the mighty Bane of Glaurunga?" said Elured. "Turin is honoured by all, and many are the stories we have heard of his heroic deeds. But that you had a part in the history of his life is news indeed!"

Nellas' smile faded. "It was a small part that was not known to many," she said with rising sadness, "and I was just as easily forgotten." She sighed and set a rubbing hand to her breast as if to ease some heartfelt pain that now arose in her. She then looked up at the towering beech and the sun's westering rays shone through, lacing the canopy with bright crimson and gold.

"This was our favourite tree," she continued. "Always we used to climb it and peer out of its leaves to survey the lands about. It was here that Turin first beheld the warriors of the west and northern marches, as they took the road to their lodges. He would climb down and speak long with them, asking all he could of their deeds. And as time went by he asked to come here more often, and would climb as high as I would let him and stare with longing away to the north."

Nellas rose and circled the tree to where it faced the road. There she halted and gazed at the silver trunk with fingers that traced a pattern of etchings. "There came a day when we stood upon this very spot," she said. "A company had just passed us and he had spoken with his friend who was Beleg Strongbow. And as we watched them fade into the distance I looked at him and saw the light in his eyes. I knew then that I would soon lose him to his mounting desire. But he looked up at me and took my hand.

'One day Nellas', he said. 'One day I shall join Beleg and the marchwardens and do great deeds in the service of Doriath.'

'Perhaps you will,' I replied. 'Yet I shall be grieved, for you shall soon forget me and all the days of our joyful play together.'

'Nay!' he cried. 'Never shall I forget you Nellas. Of all who dwell in Doriath you are most dear to me. When I grow up and am of the age to serve, I shall protect the borders of this land with you in mind. My sword, spear and bow shall be for your service, to keep you safe. And whenever I return to Menegroth after months of duty I shall seek you out and relate to you my adventures. Then shall you look upon me with pride that you helped rear a worthy foster-son to the king.'

I took him then in my arms and tearfully kissed his head for I was overcome with both sadness and joy. And when he saw my glistening eyes he stooped and picked up a sharp stone. He then went to the tree and began to etch marks upon its bark. 'Nay!' I cried, 'Do not wound the poor beech Turin.' But even as I took his hand away he smiled and showed me what he had written."

Nellas beckoned to the princes who rose and came to her. There they looked to where she pointed and saw that etched upon the grey bark were the initials T & N, as written in the runes of Doriath.

"These are the very letters Turin wrote?!" gasped Elurin.

"Indeed they are," replied Nellas. "And in etching them he turned to me and said, 'I write these letters upon this tree as a memorial and a pledge. A memorial to our most favoured place in the forest of Neldoreth, and as a pledge to our friendship that shall never fade as long as I shall live.'

At that Nellas seemed to falter, as if some great anguish now arose that bent her with grief. The concerned princes aided her as they sat down by the side of the road. The sky had clouded over again and the light of day was fading. Even Maenon and Inthan who watched all from the shadows across the road, grew uneasy, for the time spent away from Menegroth had by now far exceeded what had been allocated. If they stayed out for much longer, search parties were sure to be sent out. Yet they saw that the trio were engaged in something important to them that needed no interruption. So they continued to watch in silence.

Nellas sat there with welling tears in her eyes and a pitiful anguish in her face. The princes spoke softly to her with soothing words and tender gestures, and she clasped at them with trembling hands in her effort to steady her grief. She then shook her golden head. "I am sorry my dear princes," she said through her grievous sobbing. "Sorry and ashamed for you to see me so."

"Nay Nellas dear," said Elured. "This is the sharing I spoke of and we but console you who are stricken. And I am beginning to understand your grief, for I think your love for Turin grew into something much greater, but he failed you in some way. Do I not strike near the truth?"

The maiden stared at Elured for a moment and through her tearful face rose a smile. "Saelcund you are indeed named," she said. "For you are already much wiser than most, and that is a wonder for one of your tender age." She passed a hand over her eyes to wipe away her tears, and cupped the prince's face in her hands and kissed him on both cheeks. "Yes Elured," she said. "I loved Turin son of Hurin, but he only grew to forget me. Indeed he joined the marchwardens when he was able, but I seldom saw him after that. At such times as he returned from the far borders, he would pass this tree with not even a glance to it. And as I sat up in the high reaching branches, watching him walk by, I would weep sorrowfully and remember our joyful time together, and that day when he made his pledge.

But still I ever held onto hope! Hope that one day I would see him pass by and suddenly he would stop and look at the tree. I hoped to see his face brighten with a memory long forgotten that suddenly springs to light, compelling him to approach the silver bole to stand before the etching he had written upon it long ago. And looking up to the heights he would call out my name, whereupon I would come to him, and after a merry meeting he would tell me of all the adventures he had and of his deeds. And in the renewing of our friendship he would never forget it, who had aforetime. And through love's grace I would gain my heart's desire as he would in time look upon me as a man to a woman, whom he would share his life with.

Yet that did not come to pass as what did was much darker. For indeed there came a day when I saw him from the heights as he passed beneath me, walking with haste upon the road to the west-marches. And stop he did, but not to regard the tree in the realisation of a former joy he once had. Nay! Instinct had halted him, and the grave understanding of a dire peril that now assailed him. For to my horror an elf lord named Saeros attacked him from behind, and they fought before my very eyes until Turin bested him. Thereafter he chased Saeros away, both passing northward into the woods on the other side of the road. But I could not follow for I was wracked with sorrow and grief, and could only weep my concern for him."

Nellas rose again and stood upon the grey road, gazing westward with eyes that beheld the sorrows of the past. A chill wind now blew from the east setting her hair and dress to stream forward in its wake as the leaves upon the littered ground took flight and the boughs of the trees creaked and groaned in their nodding.
"That was the last time he graced my sight," she said as if to herself. "The last time I would hear his voice or see his beautiful face. The last chance for my hope was ended on that grievous day." Nellas bowed her head mournfully and turned back to the princes, standing before them, dejected and alone.

"For that is when he left Doriath as I have heard his story told," said Elured as he came towards her.

"Yes," said Nellas, taking his hand. "He pursued his attacker through the woods until Saeros fell to his death in a ravine. And being afraid to take the blame for that death he fled our land....and he fled from me." She took Elurin's hand who had also come to her and they all looked up to the now darkened tree. A heavy silence permeated the grey woods as evening settled. "So passed Turin son of Hurin from my life," said Nellas. "He had grown into a grim and sullen young man who forgot me and the joys of his youth. And this tree has ever been a painful reminder of what I lost in him. That is why I could no longer come here after he left."

"But you have today Nellas and that is a good thing," said Elured. "There is healing in that, or at least the beginnings of it."

"Indeed," said Elurin. "And I would have you know that we shall never abandon or forget you. When I grow older and my princely duties take me away from the joys of my youth, ever shall I return to you, to tell you of my deeds and adventures. And if you will have me I would..."

Nellas interrupted him with a laugh that was long and gay. "Oh, but I am happy and lucky to have you two princes as my friends," she chimed as she kissed them both. She then looked about them and shook her head. "But look how late it is!" she exclaimed. "Never have we still been out at this hour. What will Lenwen say!"

"She will huff and puff her anger," said Elured with a smile. "but I shall take her many rebukes with ease as our truancy was worth it."

"You speak for me also," said a grinning Elurin. "For to see you conquer an old sorrow is reward enough for the scolding we are bound to receive."

"Perhaps it is," said Nellas in a soft tone as she stared again at the solemn tree. Tomorrow she would return to it and climb its long branches to look out again upon both the woods and the memories. And though the woods were bound to be the same, the memories she could now endure. Those visions of her past life would no longer be so hurtful to her. But was that not the experience of life. To have joys and endure sorrows along the way. She thought back to Luthien her dear friend. She had gone through glorious joys and terrible sorrows. But all had turned out right for her in the end. It was time for her to believe that for herself and let the shadow of Turin pass her by.

"Come," she said to the boys. "Let us go and face the scolding together."

Darkness settled over the forest of Neldoreth, and the winds changed direction and flowed southward, flying over the dark trees and hills of the land. Swiftly they reached the oaken borders and agitated the watchers who hid in their boughs. On the winds flowed, riling the waters of the Aros and rustling the grasslands beyond. Up now the winds swept, coiling the dark clouds that hung heavy in the sky. Through these they vented, until they broke free in fountains of curling vapour. Here the winds lost strength in the peaceful upper airs that flowed between a dazzling realm of star ridden night sky and wispy lands of grey valleys and towering mountainous forms below, all laced with shining silver. With a final effort, the dissipating winds reached up to cushion the great wings that were spread wide. The hawks however did not appreciate nature's effort, for they had been upheld in the thin airs for long enough. At a call from Altarama their leader, they tucked in their wings and dove into the misty lands that floated beneath them, under which opened the skies above the dim woods of Doriath. Their eyes pierced the trees and their shadows, seeing and noting all for their master, whose army was still far away. But it was getting closer....

---

Author's Commentary:

Hie there. Here's the first chapter to Book Two of The Fall Of Doriath. It's a kind of a day in the life of Doriath, where we get to see some of the different characters who are involved in one way or another in the story. Since I don't have the Silmarillion to guide the chapters now, it's a little difficult to fill in the blanks but I've given it a shot. As for the Nellas part, I've always wondered about how she felt about Turin and I thought she can have a sense of closure here.

Anyway, I hope as always that you enjoyed the chapter.

Thanx!!