Surviving the Sack of Doriath: 1. Surviving the Sack of Doriath

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1. Surviving the Sack of Doriath


Surviving the Sack of Doriath

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"...and the cruel servants of Celegorm seized his young sons and left them to starve in the forest." Of the ruin of Doriath, The Silmarillion

They were not gentle, mad with grief from the loss of a beloved master had deadened their sense of sympathy, empathy and even pity. It would be a mistake to say that the servants of the Celegorm were treating the children like sacks of potato. Food being in scarce supply, sacks of potato would be treated with more reverence. The children they treated with contempt and loathing.

"This is deep enough," comment one of the men, "Let us leave them here and return before we are missed."

"Wait!" cried one, "Look yonder, does that not strike you as a wolf's den?"

"I believe it is," replied the first, "Do you mean..."

"The mongrel pups would be fitting toys for the wolves," said the first, "Let us drop them into the den and be done with it."

For one moment the other hesitated, but then he remembered his old master: Celegorm the fair and his mind was made up, "Very well."

Unceremoniously they hauled the semi-conscious boys to the den and threw them in, "Give our greetings to Lord Mandos and tell him, our vengeance was worth it. Even if we spend eternity in his halls it was worth it! It is not fair that mongrels such as you should live when Lord Celegorm no longer does," with that they were gone.

At first neither of the twins stirred, then slowly, very slowly one of them began to move, "Elurin," bit out Elured, "Are you alive?"

For a moment there was silence, "I am alive," replied Elurin, "I wish I wasn't. I wish I was with Nana and Ada."

"Nana and Ada wouldn't want to meet us in the halls of Mandos," reasoned Elured, as he tried to move is limbs, "The cowards did not even untie us!"

"Maybe the puppies can chew the ropes off us," suggested Elurin, giggling he added, "They are licking my face."

"Puppies?" wondered Elured.

"Yes puppies, I thought I heard them say something about wolves," replied Elurin, "I guess they are wolf pups."

"Can you talk to them?" wondered Elured, Elurin was good with animals and had learnt the speech of many good animals from the Nandor, the remnant of Denethor's people, who called Doriath home... who used to call Doriath home.

"I think so," replied Elurin, he then proceeded to growl something, "They are doing it! They are doing it!"

Elured closed his eye and relaxed for a moment. Unbidden his memories chose that moment to surface. Memories of fire and blood, of death and destruction, of his mother's wails and his father's cries.  Memories of elf killing elf and the fell faces of the Curufin and Celegorm, sons of Feanor.  He remembered Curufin demanding of his defiant mother, "Where is the Silmaril?"

A naked blade gleamed in Nimloth's hand, as she stood protectively before her boys but sons of Feanor regarded it not. He remembered Celegorm loomed behind his brother, a savage smirk pasted on his fair face. A hoard of elves, the Sindar guards who had stood with Nimloth and the Noldor guards who had come down with them, were dead at his feet.

"I know not," she had said truthfully, "nor would I tell you."

"Then you are useless to me," replied Curufin and in one devastating blow he sliced her from head to foot, the sword she had attempted to parry his blow with cloven in two. If the elves did not sing the praise of Curufin's greatest creations, it was because his greatest creations were all swords that had feasted on the blood of elves.

"Nana!" Elurin had cried as he fell to his knees besides the hewn body of their mother. Elured had dived for a dagger that lay near. If he was going to die, he would die fighting, just like his mother. But then a strangled cry came from the doorway; Curufin and Celegorm turned to find themselves face to face with Dior. Dior who met and matched Curufin but not Celegorm. Dior had slain Curufin, but Celegorm had slain Dior. Yet Celegorm had not lived to tell the tale, he had fallen as well. Fallen at Elured's hands.

Elured tried to think, tried to remember, he recalled letting out a blood-curdling scream and with strength he should not, could not posses, had thrown the blade he had picked up at Celegorm. It pierced him through the heart. He fell dead, a look of stunned horror on his face. But the horror was not because he realised he was dying but because a child had killed him. Even the fell sons of Feanor could not believe a child could kill.

"Elured!" called Elurin, bringing Elured back to the present, "What are you thinking?"

"About how I killed the son of Feanor," he replied, "No wonder those kinslayers wanted us dead. It's because of me, I scare them."

"Perhaps," said Elurin, "But I rather be dead then a slave. Besides you didn't do anything wrong. He would have killed us then and there if you hadn't stopped him."

"Do you remember much after that?" wondered Elured, "I don't."

Elurin shook his head, "I remember holding on to Nana's hands, I think I saw you kneel beside Ada's body. Then... everything went black. I heard vaguely what those two were saying. Then the puppies started licking my face!" With that he held up a wolf cub, even as another came to Elured and gently pawed him.

Elured picked up the cub and began to stroke it, "Where are their parents?"

"Dead," replied Elurin, "They are just like us. They have no one."

"No," corrected Elured, "They have us now and we have them."

Elurin smiled, "You are right! We'll look after them! They can be our brothers! I begged for a brother when Nana was heavy with Elwing but Elwing turned out be a girl!" A shadow fell on his face as he remembered his sister, "Do you think we'll ever see her again?" he wondered.

"Maybe," said Elured, "I hope so." They fell silent for a spell, "Firewood," said Elured at last, "We should get firewood and food, we need water too. Nana and Ada would be very disappointed if they met us in the falls of Mandos because we allowed ourselves to starve or freeze."

"You are right," agreed Elurin, slowly getting to his feet, "But my body aches so."

"We will have to learn to deal with it brother," said Elured, "We won't ever know peace again."

Elurin nodded, "Thou," he added, "I hope we can at least rest sometimes."

"Me too, brother, me too."

Of this Maedhros indeed repented, and sought for them long in the woods of Doriath, but his search was unavailing…" Of the ruin of Doriath, The Silmarillion

It was Maglor who had discovered what the servants of Celegorm had done. It was Maglor who had brought the two before him and demanded of him had they indeed sank so low that they now slew children. Maedhros had not answered him, instead he had asked the men to tell him where they had left the boys. They would only give him a vague description. It was not deliberate. Being unfamiliar with the landscape of Doriath they were simply not sure where they had left the boys.

Maedhros had left them at that. Maglor was livid, but Maedhros simply could not bring himself to judge the deeds of others when he knew full well that his deeds were as low as those committed by orcs. He simply packed as much supply as he could gather in short notice and within an hour of learning of the servants deeds, he set out to find the sons of Dior.

"The Eldar grew in bodily form slower than Men, but in mind more swiftly. They learned to speak before they were one year old; and in the same time they learned to walk and to dance, for their wills came soon to the mastery of their bodies." Laws and Customs of the Eldar, History of Middle-Earth: Morgoth's Ring

Elurin was collecting the firewood, while Elured collected berries and hunted for rabbits. Elurin kept up a steady chatter with the wolves, even as the wolves did what they could to help Elured find and hunt rabbits.

"You will have to learn their speech too brother," Elurin said suddenly.

"You are right," replied Elured, "You will have to teach and I hope you will be better at it then Doroniaur."

"Poor Doroniaur," whispered Elurin, trying to fight back tears, "I wonder if he is alive," Elured did not answer, instead he returned to the trap he was setting for the rabbit. After awhile Elurin added, "I am glad you paid attention when uncle Celeborn was teaching us how to live off the land."

Elured grinned, "He made learning so much fun, how could you not pay attention to him!"

Once again Elurin's mood fell, "I wonder if he is alive."

"He I know is alive," replied Elured, "He is a formidable warrior and he knows Doriath and Menegroth like the back of his hand. Also he had Galadriel with him. She's a Noldo, she knows how they think. She would be able to help him outwit the sons of Feanor."

"They say the blessing of Ulmo is upon the house of Finarfin. Perhaps Lord Ulmo will help her too," commented Elurin.

"I wish Lord Ulmo would favour us. At least, I wish great-grandmother Melian would come back," replied Elured.

"I am sure she would if she could," answered Elurin, "But I do miss..." suddenly they boys heard a nightingale sing out, "Did you hear that! Great grandmother Melian's nightingales! She's here!" With that he took off towards the sound.

"Elurin wait!" cried out Elured as he gave chase, "Stop!" He caught up with him soon. Elurin stood in the middle of a little clearing looking both depressed and distressed, "What..." started Elured, when he noticed Elurin was holding a dead Nightingale.

"This is what's going to happen to us," said Elurin, "We are going to die"

"One day we will," replied Elured, "But I don't think it's going to be today. Now come on, let's see if a rabbits has been trapped yet and bring that bird. It's not much but it's still meat."

"In that moment Huan leaped from the thicket upon the back of the Wolf, and they fell together fighting bitterly; and no battle of wolf and hound has been like to it, for in the baying of Huan was heard the voice of the horns of Oromë and the wrath of the Valar, but in the howls of Carcharoth was the hate of Morgoth and malice crueller than teeth of steel; and the rocks were rent by their clamour and fell from on high and choked the falls of Esgalduin. There they fought to the death; but Thingol gave no heed, for he knelt by Beren, seeing that he was sorely hurt.

Huan in that hour slew Carcharoth; but there in the woven woods of Doriath his own doom long spoken was fulfilled, and he was wounded mortally, and the venom of Morgoth entered into him. Then he came, and falling beside Beren spoke for the third time with words; and he bade Beren farewell before he died. Beren spoke not, but laid his hand upon the head of the hound, and so they parted." Of Beren and Luthien

"No rabbits?" wondered Elurin.

Elured shook his head, "No rabbits," he sighed, "I guess I have a fair way to go on the path to becoming a hunter."

"Well we got lots of berries! That's something isn't it! We can give the nightingale to Huan and Carcharoth. It's not much but if they share they'll both have a bit of meat to eat and we can share some of our berries with them. I heard wolves eat berries from time to time."

"Wait, wait, you named them Huan and Carcharoth?"


"Huan was a dog and Carcharoth worked for Morgoth! Why would you name them after those two!"

"Well, Huan helped grandmother Luthien a lot and he was loyal to Celegorm till he no longer could stand what his master had become. I wanted to honor Huan and inspire the pups to be like Huan. I have been telling them all about Huan while we were picking berries," Elurin informed him with a smile.

"I can understand Huan but why Carcharoth?"

"Because I always felt sorry for Carcharoth. I don't think he worked for Morgoth willingly. I don't think any wolves do. They are afterall children of Yavanna, just like dogs. I just thought that perhaps this Carcharoth might... I don't know... have a happier life than the other Carcharoth," Elured was giving his brother a strange look, "You think I am being silly," said Elurin a little sadly.

"No brother, I think you have a kind soul that can tame a dragon."

Elurin brightened up at that idea, "I would like that you know! A good dragon! He could be my friend and we would... we would go on grand adventures and slay Balrogs!"

Elured laughed, "What! No love for the Balrogs!"

"No, for they had a choice. They were Ainur who chose to side with Morgoth. I have no lover for those to choose evil. Wolves, dragon, even orcs I pity, for they have no choice."

"What of the sons of Feanor?"

Elurin's face crumpled, "I don't know. I... I feel so numb when I think of them, of what they did to mom and dad! I... what am I supposed to feel Elured?"

"I don't know. For I don't feel much right now either."

"But when they were landed, Maedhros the eldest of his sons, and on a time the friend of Fingon ere Morgoth's lies came between, spoke to Fëanor, saying: 'Now what ships and rowers will you spare to return, and whom shall they bear hither first? Fingon the valiant?'" - Of the Flight of the Noldor, The Silmarillion

Fingon my dear friend, the love of my life, the light of my heart, would you believe that today I am glad you are dead? But how can I not be? You are dead and therefore untrouble by my deeds. I could not have born the idea of you alive but not beside me and you would not be beside me in what I have just done. You, who only shead the blood of the Teleri mariners because of a mistake. You would never march with me to shack Dorith. You would not approve and I fear had you been still alive this latest sin of mine would have been the deathblow of all that lay between us. What would you say of my current task Fingon? I seek children! Children who have been abandoned in these frozen woods by my brother's men! My brothers... dead! They are dead Fingon! Have they joined you in the halls of Mandos? Or are they in the everlasting darkness? My poor brothers.

"Elured! Elurin!" I cry out, but it seems like a futile gesture. I doubt whether they would even respond to my cries. But what else can I do. I wish Amrod and Amras were with me. They are, afterall, excellent trackers. But they are mad with grief and I do not see them ever recovering. I feel as if I have lost five brothers and not just three. Is this my fate? Am I do to be the last one standing? I who should have been the first one to fall but for your courage and mercy, dear Fingon. How I wish you had killed me than.

Night deepens around me. It is too dark even for elvish eyes. I must stop and make camp. I hope the boys are alright. I hope the boys survive the night.

"But suddenly some power, descended from of old from divine race, possessed Lúthien, and casting back her foul raiment she stood forth, small before the might of Carcharoth, but radiant and terrible. Lifting up her hand she commanded him to sleep, saying: 'O woe-begotten spirit, fall now into dark oblivion, and forget for a while the dreadful doom of life.' And Carcharoth was felled, as though lightning had smitten him." - Of Beren and Luthien, The Silmarillion

"So that's Maedhros," said Elured as he peered at him from behind a thick hedge, "Do you think he has come to finish us off?"

"Seems kind of pointless," replied Elurin, "It's getting colder, another hour and we'll be in danger of freezing to death," he said as he hugged the two wolf pups closers. Clearly to share the heat they were giving off, "No I think he wants to find us."

"I don't want to go with him!" declared Elured, "But I am not above accepting his aide."

"What do you mean?"

A mischievous grin lit up Elured's face, "I want to try grandmother Luthien's sleep charm on him."

"Why?" wondered Elurin.

"So we can go steal some of his food and blankets! Isn't it obvious!" replied an exasperated Elured.

"But then he'll freeze to death!" protested Elurin.

"Not all his blankets! He is bound to have more than one. Besides he can hunt better than us. Hunting will get him food and warm fur," Elured pointed out, "Also, as a full elf, his tolerance for cold is much higher than ours."

"That's true. But are you sure you can do a sleep charm? Would a sleep charm even work on him?"

"One way to find out," with that Elured stood slowly up and concentrated. Casting within himself for that vein of ancient power that he had inherited from Melian the Maia, through Luthien her only daughter. But in vain he searched, for even as he thought he had found it, it slipped away. Then suddenly he heard a deep harsh voice next to him say, "Sleep." Elured eyes snapped open. Just in time to see Maedhros succum to slumber. "What did you do?" he demanded of Elurin.

Elurin turned to him, a faint light shining in the depths of his eyes, "I don't know. I was just thinking of grandmother Luthien and wondering if we could do what she could do. Then I started thinking of great grandmother Melian. I wondered what she was doing in the garden of Lorien. Then I started thinking of Irmo Lorien, the master of dreams and I guess sleep and then... that strange voice came out of me and... I felt... I felt very strange. Like something was coming through me, not from me. If that makes sense."

"I think so. Whatever it was, could be nice to learn to control it. Might come in handy. Anyway, he's asleep, so let's hurry. Who knows how long he's going to be asleep." Elurin nodded in agreement.

The brother scrambled to Maedhros's camp and began to help themselves to as much of the food as they could carry. They also found two spare blankets, perhaps brought by Meadhros for them. Whatever the case maybe, they wrapped themselves snug in the blankets and were very grateful for the warmth they provided.

They were about to leave when Elured said suddenly, "I like his hair."


"Look at it! It's looks like fire! I want a lock of it!"

"This is insane."

"I want it," declared Elured firmly, slowly he unseethed one of Maedhros's many knives and with it cut part of one of his braids, "Think he'll mind if I take the knife?"

"Not as much as you taking his hair without asking," replied Elurin.  

"You are right. Might as well keep the knife! Let's go," the brothers run away as fast as they could, towards the wolf's den.

Slowly Maedhros sat up and touched the cut end of his braid. He had awoken sometime ago, but had been pretending to sleep, guessing that the boys did not want him awake, did not want to go back with him. He listened to the fading footsteps of the boys; his sharp ears could still pick up snatches of their conversation.

"When I grow-up," Elured was saying, "I am going to find a girl with hair like his and marry her."

"That would be hard," Elurin was saying, "I don't think many people would have hair like his."

"But I know I'll find her and she'll be mine. No matter what, she will be mine."

"And it is told that in that time Daeron the minstrel of Thingol strayed from the land, and was seen no more. He it was that made music for the dance and song of Lúthien, before Beren came to Doriath; and he had loved her, and set all his thought of her in his music. He became the greatest of all the minstrels of the Elves east of the Sea, named even before Maglor son of Fëanor. But seeking for Lúthien in despair he wandered upon strange paths, and passing over the mountains he came into the East of Middle-earth, where for many ages he made lament beside dark waters for Lúthien, daughter of Thingol, most beautiful of all living things." - Of Beren and Lúthien, The Silmarillion

Tears flew freely as he sang his laments once more. His lament for the fair Luthien, the light of Doriath, the love for his life. The one who should not have died but did. How he missed her. He knew not how long he had dwelt here, beside this lonely lake with water so dark that it reflected nothing. That is why he liked it, it reflected his despair perfectly. His no longer lived, he merely existed, moment to moment.

He sang till he could sing no more, then rested till he could resume. He ate when he could not ignore the pangs of hunger anymore and slept when he could stay awake no longer. He had not the faintest idea of time or of space. He had no idea how exactly he got to this lake, he doubted his ability to find it again were he to leave it. But he had neither the energy nor the desire to leave. No, he would remain here till the world was unmade and perhaps, perhaps than he could see his Luthien once more. His voice faltered, closing his eyes he wept in silence.

"Greetings Daeron, minstrel of Doraith" said a voice, harsh like a raging river. Daeron looked up and saw a woman standing in the middle of the lake. Her bare arms and shoulders were pale white, she did not seem to have legs, rather the water of the lake had resin-up and flowed from her chest downwards like a dress, "I come with dire news and a task for you, if you are willing."

"What news or task can a messenger of Valinor have for a lowly Sinda?" asked Daeron, his voice dripping with bitterness.

She ignored the snide tone of his voice, "Thingol is dead, killed by dwarves. Melian has returned to the woods of Lorien, she will not return. Dior son of Luthien was king but he is no more, slain by the Sons of Feanor. Menegroth burns, Doriath is finished," as she spoke the waters of the lake began to show the events that she had summarised.

Daeron watched transfixed, the horror of what had happened refusing to sink in. At last he spoke, "Why do you show me this! Why did you rob me of the bliss of ignorance! Have I not suffered enough!"

"You have suffered," replied the girl, "And you continue to suffer. Yet your suffering is without purpose. It serves no one but if you truly loved Luthien than I have a task for you."

"What task?"

"The sons of Dior, the grandsons of Luthien the fair, each the spitting image of Elu Thingol yet live," she showed him a vision of Elured and Elurin, huddled under the blankets they had taken from Maedhros, clutching the wolf pups and each other close, "The servants of Celegorm left them in the woods to die, but they survived. So this is then the task I would set you, accept it only if you are absolutely certain."

She paused and then a voice that was mingled command and plea, she said,"Raise them, raise them as your own and once they are grown be beside them till the world comes to an end. For thou they are mortal, time will not touch them. Age will not come upon them. Should they fall by the blade then they will go were mortal men go, for their fates are sundered from those of elves. But this I deem to be true, they are not destined to fall by the blade," she prophesied, "For Namo Mandos himself has foreseen that they will endure until the battle for the end of days. However, even the foresight of Namo Mandos is imperfect concerning the end of days. All that he can sense is that the twins are important and that one at least will stand beside the lords of the west. The other might stand beside the dark one or weave chaos by siding with none at all. If you consent to this task, how you raise them will have an impact on the choices they make."

Silence. Slowly Daeron spoke again, "If I choose not to take this task-"

"That too will have an impact on their choice," the girl inclined her head. More silence.

Finally, "I did love Luthien and I do love Luthien. But I do this not only in the name of the love that I will always bear her but also out of love and loyalty to Elu Thingol. May Illuvatar give me strength to do what is right."

She smiled, a wave of water brought her to him and she held our her hand, "Come than, I will take you to them or rather, as close to them as I can," he accepted her hand without hesitation.

"Then Fingon the valiant, son of Fingolfin, resolved to heal the feud that divided the Noldor, before their Enemy should be ready for war; for the earth trembled in the Northlands with the thunder of the forges of Morgoth underground. Long before, in the bliss of Valinor, before Melkor was unchained, or lies came between them, Fingon had been close in friendship with Maedhros; and though he knew not yet that Maedhros had not forgotten him at the burning of the ships, the thought of their ancient friendship stung his heart. Therefore he dared a deed which is Justly renowned among the feats of the princes of the Noldor: alone, and without the counsel of any, he set forth m search of Maedhros." - Of the Return of the Noldor, The Silmarillion

My dear Fingon, my heart is stung every time the boy Elured is near. He reminds me so much of you. He is valiant that one and as obsessed with my hair as ever you were. Many nights they have snuck into my camp to help themselves to food. They lay sleep charms on me. But as I have been expecting them I have been able to fight them. Though the fight becomes harder and harder. They are getting stronger. They will be formidable enemies when they grow up.

I wonder if my destiny is to die by their hand. I think it would be fitting. You should have killed me that day Fingon. You should have killed be and let me go to the everlasting darkness. At least my hands would have been less bloody than. Curse the oath that I swore that fateful night. Curse the oath that forced me to slay the innocent.

Of course, you Fingon, Fingon the Valiant, would never have marched on Doriath. You bloodied your blade in Alqualondë, not knowing the cause of the quarrel. You were guilty of nothing but haste. I know full well that what we have done is not right, yet I let myself be swayed by my brother's words. I gave into my fear and I am afraid Fingon. Afraid of the everlasting darkness. I know I will kill the innocent again if it would but give me the faintest chance of escaping the darkness. For I am not valiant like you.

I am but Maedhros the tall, Maitimo the well-formed, what did I ever have but looks and even those were marred the day you saved my life. I begged you to kill me when I hung from Thangorodrim but I wasn't being brave. I simply wanted an end to my suffering. You should have killed me Fingon, you would have saved many lives had you done that, just that. You didn't. You couldn't, could you? For you loved me. Loved me contrary to our laws, contrary to the rhyme and reason of the mind. Even when I became grotesque, deformed in body, trouble in mind, you still loved me. I never did deserve you. But hush, what is that music? Someone else has come to these woods. Are they friend or foe? I must find out. I must protect the boys.

'The Doom of the World,' they said, 'One alone can change who made it. And were you so to voyage that escaping all deceits and snares you came indeed to Aman, the Blessed Realm, little would it profit you. For it is not the land of Manwë that makes its people deathless, but the Deathless that dwell therein have hallowed the land; and there you would but wither and grow weary the sooner, as moths in a light too strong and steadfast.'

But the King said: 'And does not Eärendil, my forefather, live? Or is he not in the land of Aman?'

To which they answered: 'You know that he has a fate apart, and was adjudged to the Firstborn who die not; yet this also is his doom that he can never return again to mortal lands. Whereas you and your people are not of the Firstborn, but are mortal Men as Ilúvatar made you. Yet it seems that you desire now to have the good of both kindreds, to sail to Valinor when you will, and to return when you please to your homes. That cannot be. Nor can the Valar take away the gifts of Ilúvatar. The Eldar, you say, are unpunished, and even those who rebelled do not die. Yet that is to them neither reward nor punishment, but the fulfilment of their being. They cannot escape, and are bound to this world, never to leave it so long as it lasts, for its life is theirs. And you are punished for the rebellion of Men, you say, in which you had small part, and so it is that you die. But that was not at first appointed for a punishment. Thus you escape, and leave the world, and are not bound to it, in hope or in weariness. Which of us therefore should envy the others?" - The Downfall of Númenor, Silmarillion

"I think we should stop using the sleep charm on Maedhros and just wait till he goes to sleep," suggested Elurin, "I mean, by now he must realise that it is us but he has made no attempts to hurt us or capture us."

"Yes, but why? I would feel safer with him asleep," stated Elured.

"I don't like the idea of putting so many sleep charms on the same person. We don't know what damage we are dealing."

"You are really worried about him? Even though... even after what he's done to us and to others," wondered Elured, his voice awed.

Elurin shrugged, "Even if we were to poison his foods while he slept, it would be better than risking harm with prolonged sleep charm use. Because at least with the poison we would know what we are doing to him."

"You have a point," agreed Elured after a few moments of thought, "Anyway, I do not think we will have to rely on his generosity for much longer. Winter is coming to an end and I think in spring there will be enough food around that we can fend for ourselves. Besides, he can't stay here forever."

"Elured," Elurin began, his tone hesitant, as if he was not sure how to phrase his words, "What do you want to do... in days to come that is. We can't stay here forever either."

"No, no we can't," agreed Elured, "but we have but one knife between us and it would be foolish for us to travel before spring comes. So I am not worrying about it right now. Let's think about it when we..." his words faulted as a strange music came drifting in the wind, calling to them though they heard no words.

Mesmerized they began to walk towards the music that seemed to weave longing, hope and a promise of a new home into almost a solid golden thread that lead them on, showed them the way, showed them where they were to go. Finally, they were there and the song ended. So Elured and Elurin found themselves standing in front of Daeron of Doriath, an elf they had never met before but an elf they recognized at once from the music that had led them to him.

Daeron smiled as he laid aside his harp and held out his hands. The twins ran into them and laid their heads on his shoulder and they wept. All three of them wept together, wept for all that they had lost. There were no words necessary for an understanding to be reached between them. The music had said it all and in following the music the twins had accepted what it had offered. In that precise moment in time, no three people understood each other better.

Maedhros, too, understood. As he hid some distance away, watching the scene unfold. The twins would be safe, the twins would be well cared for. The twins were where they belonged and it was time for him to return where he belonged too. "Farewell," he said, though he knew no one was there to hear him, "May you live long, happy lives and when a daughter is born to the house of Feanor with hair like mine, may she be yours," as the words escaped him, he wondered at himself. Some foresight told him that there would be a daughter born into the house of Feanor, yet who was left to bear fruit?

Not Maedhros himself. That was out of the question. Celebrimbor? No, that wasn't right. He knew the answer, yet... he could not see how that could be the answer for Maglor had never shown the slightest interest in anyone be they Noldor, Vanya or Teleri. "It doesn't matter," he told himself savagely, "What will be will be. All we can hope for, is that the best happens," with that, he turned away, leaving Daeron, Elured and Elurin still caught in a tight embrace.

So Daeron returned to the dark lake far in the east with the twin sons of Dior, taking them out of the lore of the elves of the west for none but Maedhros knew what had befallen the sons of Dior and Maedhros held his tongue and took the tale, into the fire with him.

Author's Note: Because I hate sad stories and there was enough scope within Tolkien's story to give hope that Elured and Elurin survived and thrived! Also, Tolkien never finalised his thought about the Dagor Dagorath, so I am exploiting the loop hole there as well!

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Tinni

Status: General

Completion: Complete

Era: 1st Age

Genre: Drama

Rating: General

Last Updated: 01/21/11

Original Post: 01/16/11

Go to Surviving the Sack of Doriath overview


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