The King of the Sindar shook his head angrily.
"I forbid you to go. You will not march with those betrayers of our kin."
Beleg looked at Elu, just stared into his eyes, his features growing colder than a starless midwinter night.
Elu, standing not three feet from the warrior, stared back, or rather down - being the tallest of the Children of Illuvatar had its advantages. The King's wrath could be terrible, and it was most certainly gathering. Great power shone from eyes of the one who had been chosen, who had seen the Trees. A will mighty enough to cow any of his subjects ... or almost any.
"You forbid me?" came the reply, finally. "I think not."
"All those in Doriath, all, are subject to my command. You will hear my words, Beleg!"
"Once we were Quendi. All of us. Perhaps for most of us, that has changed," the Unbegotten replied, "but not for me. Those in Doriath, you say, are yours to command. That is true, and rightly so. Outside of Doriath, however, we are free to do as we wish. All are." The last words were almost whispered.
Elu's eyes gleamed strongly enough to cast shadows on his recalcitrant Marchwarden's face. "You will fight alongside those murderers, then?"
"Against the one who murdered Finwë your friend, the same one who murdered Alyri my wife, and countless other Quendi besides? Yes, I surely will."
"Goodbye, my King. If I return, I hope to find welcome here in these woods. But if not, there are others who might make better use of my bow."
With that, Beleg Cuthalion turned on his heels and departed, destined for unnumbered tears.