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THE FALL OF DORIATH
Foreword...
This story is an attempt to write an account that broadens the version as told in the Silmarillion.
The Fall of Doriath has always fascinated me as it is the first battle that the sons of Feanor fought against other elves, without the inducements of their father.
I hope I have succeeded in giving a feasible account.
Author`s note: I have used the different forms of father-names and mother-names for the sons of Feanor.
CELEGORM is the Sindarin rendering of his name.
TURCAFINWE is his father-name and TURCO is the shortened version.
TYELCORMO is his mother-name.
CURUFIN is the Sindarin rendering of his name.
CURUFINWE is his father-name and CURVO is the shortened version.
ATARINKE is his mother-name.
You may note that Celegorm uses the Sindarin rendering of his, Curufin`s and Feanor`s names.
This is because he is complying with the ban on Quenya yet Curufin ignores this because of his disdain for the Sindar.
*MELWEN is Sindarin for "Beloved"
Chapter One
"THE BEGINNING OF THE END"
Now it has been told that Beren son of Barahir along with Luthien daughter of Thingol and Melian brought a Silmaril out of the depths of Angband and this was given to Thingol upon Beren`s death. Yet Beren and Luthien returned beyond all thought and hope to Middle-earth and dwelt for a time in Tol Galen in the midst of the river Adurant that was the last of the six tributary rivers of the mighty Gelion.
As the years passed the thought of that great jewel weighed the heavier upon Thingol`s mind for such was its power. The years also brought many strange and sorrowful things to pass. The Battle Of Unnumbered Tears, the coming of Turin son of Hurin to Menegroth and his subsequent departure, the ruin of Nargothrond and the demise of Glaurung the mighty worm and Turin himself.
It was a year after his son`s death that Hurin had come to Thingol`s halls bearing another great jewel of renown. That was the Nauglamir (Necklace Of The Dwarves), made by the dwarves of the Blue Mountains for Finrod Felagund Lord of Nargothrond and it was the most renowned of all their works of beauty in the Elder Days.
After Hurin had departed it came into Thingol`s mind to have the Silmaril set within the Nauglamir and so join together the greatest works of elves and dwarves. He therefore summoned the dwarven smiths of Nogrod to achieve his vision yet a perilous doom was laid upon the Silmaril and the Nauglamir was among the treasure cursed by Mim the dwarf.
Dwarven curses are known to be potent and the echo of Glaurung`s evil dragon lust was also bound to the necklace for he had lain long upon the hoard of Nargothrond.
So it was that Thingol was slain deep within his own halls by the very dwarves he had commisioned to bring his vision into being. This terrible deed led to that grievous battle between the dwarves of Nogrod and the elves of Doriath, called the Dagor Dornoth, in which the dwarves won the day. Yet their victory was short lived for their army was waylaid at Sarn Athrad by Beren and the Silvan elves of Ossiriand and not one dwarf came ever back over the mountains to their city.
Beren and the elves were victorious and the Silmaril was recovered and taken to Tol Galen where Luthien wore it until her passing. It was sometime after the death of Thingol and the sack of Menegroth that Dior, son of Beren and Luthien bade farewell to his father and mother and departed from Lanthir Lammath with Nimloth his wife, his young twin sons Elured and Elurin and his infant daughter Elwing. They journeyed to Doriath where the remnant of the Sindar welcomed them and Dior set himself to raise anew the kingdom of Doriath.
He gathered there all he could find who now wandered the great forests of the land in sorrow and despair with only the memories of their realms past glory for comfort. He found more than were expected for the dwarves had not slain Doriath`s maidens and children and there were still few companies of warriors who had escaped the rout of battle. All these were gathered again at Menegroth and there was begun a great work of restoring the "Thousand Caves."
Much had to be done for the battle had wrought great destruction to the many fair halls and chambers yet the elves laboured with unwavering purpose under Dior`s will and direction and the restoration swiftly came to completion. It is said that time heals wounds of both mind and body as soon song and laughter could be heard in the forests and halls of the land yet their mirth was halting for the grief of memory was still near to their hearts. Many halls in Menegroth that were once filled with merry elven folk now stood empty, shrouded in darkness as a testament to their dwindled numbers.
For Dior however, a grief long feared was visited upon him far sooner than he had hoped. There came a time of Autumn during Doriath`s newfound tentative happiness when a messenger came from Ossiriand bearing a coffer. With hardly a word he laid it in Dior`s hand, bowed low and took his leave.
Hesitantly, Dior opened it and behold! therein lay the Silmaril within the Nauglamir and its holy light blazed forth to greet him, filling his chamber with a brilliant radiance as the gems of the neckless reflected wonderously its bright hue. He looked down at the jewel with wide sight, the grey of his eyes lit with its sparkling reflection. Yet tears of grief were loosed from his stare as falling glitter, for he knew that its coming to him was a sign that his father and mother had indeed died and gone to that place beyond the circles of the world where go the race of men after their time of waiting.
Arda had lost Luthien the fair forever!
Long did Dior sit there grieving in silence with bowed head; now gazing at the shining jewel that was rescued by his father and mother from the iron pit of Angband, now closing the coffer and extinguishing its light in deep sorrow. Remembrance now came upon him of those two great people who had defied all conceivable perils that were set against them. Those two whose love could never be matched nor would there ever be a love so blessed in the annals of the World, from its making, to its far end.
Dior sighed. Could that son of men who was gifted with traits of such noble courage and sinews that performed such deeds, along with that daughter of blessedness who was of such glorious beauty, of such purity of heart, and of unequalled power in blissful song, truly have ceased to be? The thought of it made Dior`s heart ache all the more, for as he had lost his dear parents, so too had Arda lost two of its most beloved children.
There in his darkening chamber did Nimloth find him, still mourning in the deep of night. She stood for a silent moment by the doorway, watching his bowed form languishing in the dim room, and perceived that some sorrowful thing had befallen him.
"What ails you my lord that you should sit so, seemingly bowed with grief and come not to retire?" she finally asked in a soft voice.
Dior slowly raised his head to face her and she started, seeing his tears, but he gestured to the coffer that lay closed on his table and said,
"Therein lies the cause of my sorrow Nimloth. Open it and see for yourself what has come to me!"
Fearfully, she took up the coffer and opened it and her eyes widened with wonder on seeing the great jewel. She stood a moment, mesmerised by its beauty and wondered how such a wondrous thing could fill her husband with such grief. Yet as she slowly turned her gaze towards him, the enamouring spell of the jewel was broken and a sudden realisation came upon her.
"It has come then," she said sorrowfully.
"Yes... it has come to me," replied Dior. "It no longer graces my mother`s fair person or brightens Tol Galen and the lands about. They are gone Nimloth and I their son am now doomed never to see them again!"
She gently laid the coffer down and went to her husband and set her arms about him. Her eyes closed and rounded tears gently rolled down her smooth cheeks in expressed sadness. She too had loved them well.
"To be sure my lord," she said after a mournful moment. "It is hard and my heart grieves with yours. Yet it was a doom of sorrow long foreseen."
"Even so," said Dior. "That makes it none the easier to endure."
He leaned back from her embrace and looked into her wide glistening eyes.
"They are gone melwen* and return not this time. Those twain who humbled the very might of Morgoth upon his throne! Those twain whom death itself could not conquer!"
He sighed with weary grief.
"Nimloth, I am king, yet have lived no longer than those of men who are deemed newly come to full manhood. I am as young in years as I am in kingly policy and would have it that my father were yet living to counsel me from afar, as I would have the gentle knowledge that my fair mother still graced this world. It grieves me deeply that they were granted too few years to enjoy the happiness they so richly deserved."
Nimloth now knelt before Dior, clasping both his hands in hers.
"Indeed my husband," she said. "And all of true heart shall grieve with you, yet do not fall to despair for you are far more than you know yourself to be. You are king of a great people, all of whom revere and love you. Do you not see what you have achieved? Doriath has been raised from ruin and its people are joyful again! Yet you are the mover of all these things O wise lord and your people do not forget it!"
She then took up the open coffer and held it before him and the Silmaril`s hovering light seemed to soften and lit his face to a heavenly vision of comeliness. Nimloth was silent for a moment. She had not thought it possible that the flame of Dior`s beauty could ever burn the brighter. Tall and lithe of limb was he, with pale skin and long flowing raven-dark hair that fell about his shoulders. He was indeed the son of his mother to look upon as the very beauty of Luthien Tinuviel in the form of manhood was in his face. Yet in his grey eyes could one read the inheritance of the Edain that was in him. The courage, pride and hardihood of Beren Erchamion his father, of the house of Beor. She raised a hand to gently caress his cheek, losing herself to the wonder of his gaze. How blessed she felt to be loved by such as he.
To be loved by Dior the "Beautiful".
She finally spoke.
"Now the great jewel has come to you, and rather than receiving it in sorrow, I would say receive it now in hope as I deem your father and mother would have desired. Did we not witness the power of the jewel as it were worn by Luthien? How Dor Firn-i-Guinar became an unrivalled vision of light and beauty! It shall surely give added hope to your people and aid in healing the wounds of your realm. And though Beren and Luthien are gone, let us take comfort that they have left you this legacy in memory of their hope beyond hope that their love would be fulfilled. And so Dior Eluchil their son came into the world and I Nimloth became his wife!"
Dior gazed long at Nimloth and a faint smile came to his face. She was indeed a beautiful queen, in appearance as in heart. As shining white marble was her skin, supple of limb and delicate of face. Her hair was of a rare hue of silver and fell in a glimmering cascade to her waist. It were as if the glowing sheen of starry fires reflected upon the dark waters of the Esgalduin on a moonless night, were somehow caught and enmeshed in her locks. Indeed, her hair was like to that of her nearest kin, for she was the daughter of Galathil, son of Galadhon, son of Elmo, brother of Elwe (Thingol) Lord of Doriath. Celebelleth was her title, The Silver Maiden of the house of Greymantle.
Dior now remembered their first meeting in Doriath when during his youth as he neared early manhood, he had journeyed to Menegroth where he had dwelt for a full year at the summons of Thingol and Melian, who had wished to see the son of Luthien and heir to the throne. There had been great pomp and ceremony on his coming, and all Doriath had rejoiced in welcoming the young prince, Dior Eluchil, Thingol`s Heir. Great had been his wonder on seeing the many wonders of Menegroth and the majesty of Thingol and Melian, his grandparents.
Yet no fair hall or kingly seat was fit to compare to the loveliness of Nimloth whom he had espied from afar in the forest of Neldoreth, whilst wondering alone during a lull in the festivities. Their courtship thereafter had been swift for such was the strength of feeling between them. On Dior`s departure, they had plighted their troth and after a short time, Nimloth had followed her love to Dor Firn-i-Guinar where they had become husband and wife.
"Indeed, joyful was the day I first laid eyes on you, singing by the sparkling waters of the Esgalduin," he said softly, tenderly returning her caress.
Nimloth mirrored his smile. "And ever joyful and blessed is the memory of that day in my heart Dior Aranel! Now let us look to make this and all the days we have together joyful and blessed, for ourselves as well as our people. And in so doing, honour the memory of Beren and Luthien well!"
Dior looked down at the jewel as it shone with a mirthful light and the gems of the Nauglamir sparkled in glad reply. He could not deny its beauty. He raised his gaze to Nimloth`s wide smiling eyes and opened his heart to the comfort of her hopeful words that would soothe his feelings of loss. When morning came he would face his people and reveal the return of the Silmaril to Menegroth, as well as the grievous news of Beren and Luthien`s end.
Indeed, it was a doom of both joy and woe that were bequeathed to any who would keep a Silmaril of Feanor. Its coming to Doriath would be of no exception to that fate!
The next day Dior summoned his people to the Great Hall of Thingol that was his throne room. There came all the elves who dwelt in Menegroth and those who lived in the nearby forests.
Soon all were stood before the king and queen`s dais, atop which stood their thrones, at the western end of the hall. Both chairs were made of oak, and were tall and intricately crafted in sensitive detail. Their wooden frames were covered in scrollwork and meandering traceries with fair elvish devices and their legs and armrests were in the form of carven tree limbs with winding stems and leaves of silver. Of open grillwork were their tall cushioned backs, punctuated with rows of cusp-and-foil roundels that were carved between the uprights that supported steep canopies. However, the queen`s canopy was in the form of a carven birch tree that seemed to half grow out of the wall behind so that many of its silver branches and leaves were as wide spread tracings.
Very beautiful were the thrones of Thingol and Melian that were now the seats of Doriath`s new king and queen, Dior and Nimloth.
Now Dior brought out the coffer and held it before him.
"Elves of Doriath!" he cried. "You have all been summoned to witness that which signifies an eternal grief and yet a hope beyond reckoning!"
The elves turned to each other with uncertain glances, questioning each other in low tones as to their king`s proclaimation. Dior opened the coffer and held the Silmaril aloft for all to see. Its light blazed forth and the countless gems of the Nauglamir in turn reflected its radiance in marvellous hues that filled the great hall with a living light more glorious than that which Melian had devised for Menegroth before its ruin.
Now many who stood there had seen the Silmaril at such times as Thingol had revealed it and these now wept with joy on seeing its return. Yet there were many who now saw the rumoured jewel for the first time and these gasped in wonder for it seemed to them as if a star of Varda had been drawn down from the Ilmen into their lord`s outstretched hands.
"Behold!" said Dior. "Here is the jewel that Beren and Luthien rescued from the perils of Angband! Here is the jewel that was coveted by the dwarves who in their malice slew our king and afterwards, attempted to destroy his realm. Yet they won it not from Thingol`s people but paid for their folly and evil deeds."
Now more softly he said, "Here also is the jewel which thereafter was worn by Luthien the fair, who so became a vision of such beauty and loveliness as to compare to a vision seen only in the ancient West of song!"
He fell silent, overcome by grief for he had dearly loved his mother but the elves looked at each other with wonder on their faces, for they did not yet understand the full meaning of the Silmaril`s return.
"Now that jewel has come to me," he continued, urging himself on. "And so signifies the end of Beren Erchamion, son of Barahir and Emeldir of the house of Beor. And of Luthien Tinuviel, daughter of Thingol Lord Of Beleriand and Melian the Maiar!"
A great hush fell across the great hall as the elves were stunned into disbelief. Only the gentle fall of water from the halls fountains could be heard. Even the chirping of the Nightingales that lived amid carven branches was silenced.
"To my father, I say the memory of your courage and your great deeds shall be honoured and never fade though time immeasurable should pass!
To my mother, I say that ever shall your passing be a grief to elvenkind for you are now forever lost to your people. Yet your beauty, your song, your love and sacrifice shall remain imperishable in our hearts memory and endure in song and tale even to the appointed end and beyond!"
Dior fell silent again and all heads in the hall were bowed.
There rose the murmur of weeping maidens and lamenting elf lords as it finally dawned on them that Beren and Luthien were no more. For many, this new grief now brought old half forgotten sorrows to the fore in their hearts and many being overwhelmed, cast themselves to the ground in their despair though they stood within the very light of heaven.
Yet Dior took the Nauglamir and clasped the Silmaril to his neck and behold! now he appeared as the fairest of all the children of Iluvatar. All looked up at their king in amazement for the rays of the jewel seemed to well through his body and the very light of Aman was reflected in his beautiful face. The gems on the crown of Thingol that lay upon his head began to gleam as if lit by a flaming radiance and the silver of mithril from which the crown was made, flashed in a sudden blaze of white fire, ordaining him anew with the kingship of Doriath.
And lo! the light of the Silmaril began to grow in brightness and spread outward from Dior`s person, reaching every shadowy corner of the huge hall in widening beams of living light that held the elves mesmerised in great wonder as they basked in the glory of its power. Then all despair was cast away from that people as the transcendent light of a descended star would cast aside the brooding shadows of the deepest dungeon where unhappy prisoners that cower helplessly in dark, are suddenly enheartened beyond all reason to imagined aid that might be forthcoming.
Hope was kindled in their hearts.
All that host now cried out in one voice.
"Hail Dior Eluchil! Now surely is Doriath risen to glory once more!"
Then Dior spoke. "Indeed to witness an eternal grief I said, yet also a hope beyond reckoning! See now the power of the Silmaril has healed the sorrows of our hearts! So shall it also heal the hurts of our land, fostering the growth and wellbeing of old that was lost to Doriath!"
He came forward now to the very edge of the dais and the great light that was about him shone upon his peoples upturned faces.
"Now hearken to me!" he said. "For this is a new beginning for us all as we are come out of the shadows, back into the light! Indeed, long may we dwell within its power! However, let us know that though our hearts shall never forget our loss, the holy jewel shall serve as a memorial to those twain who won it in hope for themselves, and so sent it to Doriath in hope for us all! And I say to you with the foresight granted to me now, that whatever may betide after this blessed day, the fate of the Silmaril shall lead even unto the heavens, where it shall remain a sign of hope to all of true heart in Middle-earth, though the darkness would devour the world!"
As he said these words it seemed a change came upon him. An even greater majesty was now revealed in him. Taller he now looked, even like to Thingol his grandsire, and it seemed a potent power were now placed upon him. The noble hardihood of the fathers of men, the dignity and beauty of elves and the reverential wisdom and power of the Maiar. He was indeed the heir to the throne of Doriath, now fully revealed before his people.
All bowed low before him and cried again in one voice...
"Hail Dior Eluchil! Let the king now rule us in great glory and bliss!"
So it was that the Silmaril of Feanor resided once more in Doriath and its power was felt again in the woods of Neldoreth and Region, for the king wore the jewel always when he rode far and wide about his realm. Its holy light healed the dreary mood of the forest that had taken hold since Melian`s departure. Flowers bloomed bright and beautiful, smiling in the wonderfully scented airs of the land. The rivers flowed keen and clear, sparkling in the newfound light, and spoke once again with watery voices of dazzling enchantment. The forest animals throve and multiplied in the rejuvinated green woods and birds sang in glad tones under clear skies lit by sun and jewel.
Festivals long celebrated yet lately abandoned were renewed and the greenswards of Neldoreth were alive once again with the singing, the dancing and the feasting of merry elves. At the time of midsummer, the king and his people would gather beneath the mighty boles of Hirilorn even as Thingol and Melian had done of old, and there would be great merriment. Their fair music would echo softly within the quaint walls of that tree house high up in Hirilorn`s lower branches that was made aforetime for Luthien Tinuviel.
Thus led by Dior, Thingol`s Heir, and with the aid of the Silmaril, Doriath indeed regained its glory of old and its people were content.
Yet outside their realm, word slowly spread like a meandering breeze that blows from a warm place out into the open wilderness, gathering strength yet growing evermore colder.
So too were the ears that heard the tale of Doriath`s rise from ruin. Wandering elves of the Sindar were the first to hear the rumour and many forsook the now perilous wilderland and repaired to Menegroth, swelling its numbers.
Yet soon word reached the cold ears of the people of Feanor who in turn went to their lords and told them all they had heard.
Now the Oath of the sons of Feanor was waked again from sleep. Each tale of the light and joy brought to Doriath by the Silmaril, and of Dior the king riding hither and thither about his realm wearing the jewel in his pride, stung their hearts. For they themselves were become a wandering people who camped in the wilds of the south, cursing their hard fate in bitterness as they remembered their glory days of old. Therefore the six remaining princes of Feanor`s house gathered again at Amon Ereb where their greatest strength was held under Maedhros, the eldest of the brothers. There they took council with one another while spies were sent ahead to learn the ways of the land.
Soon messengers were sent out to Doriath to claim their own.
Now here must be told of a part of the Doriathrim who dwelt near the eastern eaves of Region, the mighty southern forest of the realm. They were a mingled folk of elves of Doriath who favoured the open forests to the deep caves of Menegroth, and Sindarin elves of Beleriand who had fled the Dagor Bragollach and had sought refuge with Thingol their overlord in the "guarded kingdom".
There was a small forest sundered from the main wood by the river Aros that flowed from its source in the north near the pass of Aglon. Beneath the small forest`s eastern eaves flowed the Celon that began in the northern hills around Himring where Maedhros once held his fortress before its fall. Southward the Celon would meet with the Aros and at their inflow was the beginning of that wood named Arthorien.
This stood between those two converging rivers, spreading wider as the rivers grew apart to the north until it became the sprawling land of Himlad that the sons of Feanor once held. From the eastern bank of the Celon, began the westmarches of Estolad where a mingled people of the Three Houses of the Edain still dwelt.
There was a curious friendship between the Sindar of Arthorien and the Edain of Estolad and at that time the elves of Doriath journeyed to that land, giving what aid they could to the troubled remnant of men who were at times harassed by orcs that came down from the conquered north.
So it was that one such elf was waylaid by two riders as he journeyed alone to Estolad. He was named Haldir son of Falathar and was one who had taken special pity on Estolad`s people and so journeyed to that land more often than any other for he was a master of healing and of great service to the beleaguered men.
Now the two horsemen swiftly rode down towards him as he climbed a great sloping ridge that led away from the vale of the Celon to the rolling lands of Estolad. They rode upon steeds of great stature, strong and clean-limbed, with brown coats, long swishing tails and long dark manes. The riders themselves sat tall in their saddles, with free flowing raven-dark hair and grey cloaks streaming behind in the winds of their approach.
Haldir halted and awaited them as the pounding of nearing hooves rang in his ears. The riders swiftly reached him and reined in their horses, barring his way. Then they sat silent for a moment, regarding him with sharp eyes. Haldir glanced warily up at them as he stood in the dark of their steeds shadows but said nothing in growing doubt under their hard stares.
Finally one of the riders alighted from his horse and strode forward to face him.
"You are an elf of Doriath are you not?" he asked in a stern voice.
"I am lord," replied Haldir in a clear tone that sought to belie his growing fear of the two riders.
"Then you are one of those whom we seek," said the stranger with a swift turn to his companion.
He eyed Haldir a moment then asked, "Are we known to you wood elf?"
Haldir studied the two elves with great interest. They were clad in plain attire that was travel-stained from seemingly long journeying. He looked upon their faces and saw that they were very fair though the one who stood before him was fairer still. Haldir surmised that they were elves of importance for they seemed to be stern and wilful and there was a lordly air about them that they could not conceal. By their appearance, their speech and bearing, Haldir surmised that they were high lords of the Noldor. However, he could not yet tell to which house they belonged.
"Well, are we known to you or no?" asked the seated rider impatiently. His steed gave a snort, stomping the ground as if mirroring its masters hasty mood.
Haldir dared not chance a guess for fear of giving offence to the proud strangers.
"Forgive me my lords," he said. "I do not wish to offend, yet I am not accustomed to meeting lords of other elven houses as I so take you and therefore know not who you are. Long have I dwelt within the Girdle of Melian who is now gone and never ventured far beyond our borders, even in the peaceful days of the long siege. News from without has always come faintly to those of us who give half an ear in Doriath and the little I know of the Noldor is through the many tales and songs of their great deeds against the dark power of the north.Yet tales may only give names to unknown faces and speak of matters far removed from the quiet of the wood."
"So it has always been with you elves of Doriath!" said the elf on horseback, regarding Haldir with hard eyes. "Cozened into idling and storytelling behind the power of Melian whilst leaving the perilous deeds of war to the rest of us! Indeed I take offence that you know not the lords of those who aided the Sindar in their time of need, when Morgoth loosed his power over starlit Beleriand before the Sun and Moon!"
The elf who stood before Haldir raised a hand, checking his companion.
"Nay!" he said with a swift shake of his head. "Blame not Doriath`s people overmuch. Thingol`s haughty mood towards the Noldor had him shun us all save those of the house of Finarfin. Yet being his loyal subjects his people could only follow their lord. However, Thingol is dead and the Girdle is removed. Doriath`s time apart from the rest of Beleriand is at an end and its people would do well to heed this!"
The words of the stranger now surfaced a well of memories to Haldir`s mind of a yearned past that was no more.
"You speak gravely lord," he said solemnly. "For that may indeed be how it was with my people. Yet be that as it may, we of Doriath heed well the end of our protected peace from the sorrows of the greater realm, having just borne the brunt of fates cruel blow ourselves."
The seated rider stirred in his saddle and gave Haldir a dark look.
"And perhaps it were a good thing that you and your people finally felt the dint of battle at your own door, thus curbing the churlish pride and disdain of the Sindar of Doriath towards the Noldor, whom many ever blamed for stirring the evil of the north, though it were ravaging your lands ere we came!"
Haldir stared at the rider in amazement at his harsh words but the rider`s companion swiftly intervened.
"Peace my brother!" said the fair elf. "We are not yet come with harsh word to these folk, but are here only to deliver our message to their newly appointed king."
Haldir started at that.
"They are brothers, come with a message for Dior our king?!" he thought. His mind raced swiftly over the lords of the Noldor. They were not of Finarfin`s house as all its princes were slain. Only Turgon yet lived of Fingolfin`s sons thus leaving the princes of the eldest house of Finwe.
Haldir blanched a little yet chanced his guess.
"Permit me to ask my lords, yet could it be that you are lords of the mighty house of Feanor?"
A faint look of surprise passed over the fair elf`s face.
"Well guessed wood elf," he said. "I am Celegorm who was Lord of Himlad on a time."
Haldir bowed low before him.
"Forgive my ignorance lord Celegorm, but the quaint life of the wood so blinded me. This is indeed a great honour!"
Celegorm laughed.
"Then you are doubly honoured this day for I am also come with Lord Curufin."
Haldir turned and bowed again yet his mind was filled with doubt. The coming of powerful lords of Feanor`s house did not bode well for Doriath. The mood of these two sons of Feanor was known to all that people, as their treacherous part in Luthien`s tale was not forgotten. Moreover, their threat to Thingol over his keeping of the Silmaril was still fresh in the minds of the Doriathrim. Indeed, it was an unsaid fear in all their hearts ever since the Silmaril had returned to their land, that the sons of Feanor could now make true their threat of war against Doriath as the protection of the Girdle was no more.
Haldir guessed that this was undoubtably the purpose of their journeying and the content of their message. A dark forboding crept into his heart, yet he hid his dismay and greeted them with as fair words as came to his mind.
"Indeed I am doubly honoured this glad day to stand before such high lords of the Noldor! And I would say to my lord Curufin that though the mood of many of my kin may be as he so put it, I for my part am of a different mind and hold the Noldor in high honour and esteem for their valiant deeds and rendered service to the Sindar of Beleriand!"
Curufin said nothing but Celegorm smiled. "Well said wood elf, yet who are you?"
"I am Haldir son of Falathar and dwell within the small forest of Arthorien that lies between the the rivers Aros and Celon," he replied, pointing back to the western backdrop that looked to the distant vale of trees darkening in the deepening light of dusk.
"I see," said Celegorm, his grey eyes following the wood elf`s gesture. "Yet for one who claims to be so road shy in having hardly left the protection of the Girdle, we somehow find you far from your home."
"That is true lord," Haldir steadily replied. "However, I was nearing my journeys end, for I was on my way to Estolad where a remnant of the Edain still dwell. It may be accounted a long journey on foot as you see me, yet not so far from my home by steed."
Here Haldir walked over to Celegorm`s horse and raised a hand to pet its head. Yet the horse gave a reluctant snort, turned its great head away and backed off a few paces. The wood elf slowly turned back to Celegorm, dismayed and embarassed under stern eyes that momentarily lit up with distant amusement.
Haldir sighed. "Alas my people have no horses to speak of and so we make do on our own two legs. Yet do not think I deceived you my lord, for Estolad is indeed the furthest I have ever ventured beyond the forests of my home."
"And what business would you have with the Edain who dwell there?" asked Celegorm.
"There has been a friendship between my folk and theirs that began soon after the main hosts of their people left for their later realms," answered Haldir, wondering where their questioning would lead and of what importance would their knowing of his friendship with the Edain be in their councils.
"I find that hard to believe, as your kings mood towards men was perhaps harsher than was towards us," said Celegorm.
"My lord Thingol`s mood towards men was indeed unfriendly in those days," replied Haldir. "Yet he saw our friendship as being harmless enough in his policies and so let it be, though none of the Edain were ever permitted to pass the Girdle, even to our small forest. Be that as it may, our friendship grew closer still after Morgoth`s power was loosed upon the world again. Throughout the perilous years my folk have given aid and comfort to that people and of late they in turn have comforted us in our own sorrows of the day."
Curufin scowled, alighted from his steed and strode forward to face Haldir who took a fearful step back on seeing the prince`s disdainful look.
"So you would deal with that traitorous race!" said Curufin. "Though it surprises me little as you dark elves are as lowly as the accursed race of men and suit each other well. Yet as if that were not enough, you would now claim our birthright in your insolence and so gain an undeserved joy, happiness and strength from it while its true heirs suffer in the wilderness, their realms destroyed and their people and lords bereft of all their power and glory of old through battles waged not only for the Noldor, but all the free peoples of Beleriand!"
His flashing eyes now scornfully appraised Haldir from head to toe.
"Answer me this O Sindar. Who instructed your wandering kin in their advancement from the rude ways of the wilderness to the noble ways of Aman? Yet know this dark elf! The ancient light that was there before Arien and Tilion rode the pathways of the sky does not belong to you and your people. A skill and labour beyond the furthest reach of your thought went into preserving it! An Oath beyond all oaths was sworn to claim it! And many a grim deed was done on the long road to retake it! You elves of Doriath do not fully comprehend your peril by witholding the Silmaril from we the sons of Feanaro!"
He turned to his brother. "Give him our message Turcafinwe and let him begone! We did not come all this way to exchange friendly banter with these elvish thieves!"
Celegorm produced a rolled up parchment, sealed by a wax stamp of the heraldic emblem of the house of Feanor.
"Receive now this Haldir son of Falathar," he said as he handed it to the wood elf.
"Herein lies the word of all the remaining sons of Feanor, urging yet again the surrender of the Silmaril to the house of its maker. We are come to claim our own Haldir, and yet mark you, we are come in peace, hoping that your king shall return what is ours to us in good faith.
I see your dismay at my brothers harsh words yet take heed, for he has much cause for his anger and grief. Our father left it to his sons to retrieve his great work. Should we now leave it in the hands of yet another who would withold it against his dying wish? Our Oath of old was not spoken lightly Haldir but remains the scion of the Noldor`s grave choice in treading the long road to Middle-earth, forsaking even the blessed realm of Aman!
Do you hear Haldir! This business of the Silmaril is well above the simple minds of the quaint forests of Doriath.
Yet I would blame Thingol who named it, and Dior who now keeps it, for it is only by their grasping choices that the quiet of your woods is threatened.
I therefore implore you son of Falathar, go to your king and persuade him if you must to see clearly in this matter for much shall rest on his answer for good or for ill. However, know that either way the Silmaril is ours. Not only by our desire for our fathers unimitable work, but of greater import it is by our very right as his sons that we so claim it!"
He paused a moment as if to regain his composure for the light of his eyes had brightened as his own anger seemed to heighten with his words. Haldir looked at the two princes fearfully, for it seemed that under their fair countenances was a perilous fey mood that would stop at nothing to regain their fathers work.
"There!" said Celegorm as he seemingly mastered himself. "We have spoken, you have heard and now you must go! However, be swift for we await Dior`s answer here!"
Curufin put in, "Indeed make haste for you would not want to keep the sons of Feanaro waiting or we may enter into Doriath ourselves, and unbidden, seek for what is ours as the way is now open to all!"
Haldir shuddered inwardly at the threat yet bowed low before them and said,
"My lords, I have indeed taken heed to all you have said and admit that these high policies are far above me. Yet what I do fully grasp is that one war was enough for Doriath which suffered so because of it. Far more grievous would it be for another to be waged against Thingol`s realm, and evermore so were it now between elf and elf!"
Curufin looked at him with a stony face, his eyes glinting in the mounting dark.
"That came to pass once before dark elf as you well know and so shall again if we are refused a second time by the Teleri! Yet you are overbold to berate the sons of Feanaro so! Swiftly would I have dealt with your insolence had we not needed you to run our errand. Go now I tell you and pray your king be wise for his people as well as himself!"
Haldir bowed again with great fear in his heart. "I shall deliver your message to Dior my king and pray that wisdom shall prevail for us all!"
With that, he turned and began the long journey to Menegroth. The sons of Feanor stood silent as they watched Haldir`s form fade into the twilight of dusk. Afar off, rising above the river valley, the forest line of Arthorien stood, crowned with the reddened sky of sunset that darkened as it merged with the starlit night overhead.
There was the sound of approaching horses but the brothers did not stir. Soon ten riders had pulled up beside them and there they sat, silent, their fair elven faces grim to look upon yet their eyes shone in the mounting dark as they stared intently towards Doriath......
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Author`s Commentary:
Well, here is where I try to explain my take on the Fall of Doriath and why I wrote the things I did.
Firstly, I am trying to give what I would see as a feasible account of the events leading up to the final attack on Doriath.
The inspiration behind my approach is the Unfinished Tales volume. In that book Tolkien gives fairly detailed accounts of events barely touched in the Silmarillion.
For instance, in the tale of Turin we are introduced to a host of characters and are party to far more dialogue. So we see Turin`s friendship with Labadal, his friendship with Nellas. How he joined the outlaws and his interactions with Androg and Mim. Who can forget the detailed account of Glaurung`s demise and Nienor`s suicide. What is revealed is very interesting and it really saddens the reader to know that had Tolkien taken the time, he could have written the Silmaril in such wonderful detail, producing a book that would have probably doubled the size of LOTR.
What a book that would have been! After reading the Silmarillion, I see the LOTR as being somewhat stale. All the great events took place during the summarised First Age, yet we have to make do the a detailed account of the Third Age where things are far tamer and wearied. But that is just my opinion.
Anyway, in reading The Unfinished Tales, one can only imagine what Tolkien`s detailed take on say, the Nirnaeth Arnoediad would have been. Or his detailed description of Beren`s horrific journey through Nan Dungortheb. Or his take on the various interesting speeches, friendships and alliances made during the Mereth Aderthad, the Feast of Reuniting.
There is such a wealth of unexplored stories in his universe that he never touched on, that it is truly frustrating to even think about. All he left were enticing half finished works.
Still, we must be thankful. Thankful for Fanfic that is, for what he left unfinished as our guide, we as fanfic writers can only try to finish. We may never have his flair for language and classic writing, but we all attempt to give our own interpretations of events and hope we are as near to what the source would have thought and wanted.
So, I have chosen the Ruin of Doriath to be the tale that is open to my interpretation. Why? Well it`s a story that has very little said about it in any of Tolkien`s works, and yet is to my mind one of the most important events to take place in the First Age. The first time in Middle-earth and the second time in history that elves slew elves.
It always makes me chuckle when I think of what would have happened if the Silmarillion were never published. Can you imagine the flak a fanfic writer would have suffered had he wrote a story of noble elves plotting to kill other noble elves, and actually going ahead with it! Purists from all over would have cried foul, deeming that the holier than thou elves, as they are portrayed in LOTR, would have never conceived of commiting such terrible acts. It would have been utterly impossible, as thoughts of malice, treachery and hatred were not in elven nature. The adventurous writer would therefore have been roundly accused of seeking to demean Tolkien`s high-minded idea of elves.
Thank God for JRR`s Silmarillion that would debunk all such myth and hail unelf-like behaviour of that sort, as undisputed canon. It says a lot for slash fic, for who knows where Tolkien`s sensibilities might have taken him if he had somehow survived to our modern times. But that is another subject.
Now in tackling the Fall Of Doriath, where would one begin? A brief summarised opening would be where.
For me, the tale of the (Second) fall of Doriath, begins with Dior receiving the Silmaril from Ossiriand. In the summarised version in the Silmarillion, (which is the backbone of my version), Dior is alone when he receives the jewel from an un-named lord of Ossiriand. He stares long at it in grief over his parents apparent death. I decided to add an intimate moment with Nimloth his wife because it intros her important character to the tale and in such a moment of grief, she would be the fitting one to comfort her husband.
Dior would afterwards have had to have shown the Silmaril to his people and tell them that Beren and Luthien were now really dead. That is the occasion I have used, to have Dior put on the Nauglamir and appear as the fairest of all the children of Iluvatar before all his people.
In the process, the Silmaril shows its power by giving hope to his dismayed folk.
I think it`s feasible to portray the Silmaril in that light and not just as a mere jewel. Tolkien himself states in the Silmarillion that the jewels were indeed, living things. Being so means they could have had their own agenda in matters.
So the Silmaril uses its power to somewhat enhance Dior, assigning to him a look of greater authority. At the time of this story, Dior was only about 36 years old and though he was very noble (being the son of Luthien), with a firm will that had led the Doriathrim in the restoration of their realm, he would still have seemed a bit of a youngster or lightweight, when compared to the great majesty of Thingol.
The jewel therefore grants him the look he would have naturally achieved over many centuries of living, since in the oncoming months he shall have to become a bastion of hope to his beleaguered people. It seems better for the Doriathrim to be led in battle by a king whose reminiscent of Thingol`s great stature and presence, than by one only newly come to manhood.
So here we see that the Silmaril already knows of the grim fate of Doriath and is kind of preparing the elves who shall have to defend it. It`s in a sense using its great power to influence the Doriathrim to champion its cause as it can`t go back to the Feanorrim. So its power installs hope in their hearts, from which comes courage and wisdom. Much more shall become apparent in the following chapters.
The next part is of the sons of Feanor, finding out that Dior now has their jewel sending some elves to claim their own. I made it Celegorm and Curufin because they have always been vehement in their pursuit of the jewels and they are inseperable in most of their endeavours. I dont think they would have entered into the great forests of Doriath, out of wariness. They know that once the reason behind their errand is known, it`s not going to be to the Doriathrim`s liking. They would have looked for preferably one of the Sindar to deliver their written request.
In this case it`s Haldir of Arthorien.
The whole idea behind the friendship between the Sindar of Arthorien and the Edain of Estolad is loosely based on the friendship between the Edain of Brethil and Beleg and the marchwardens, who aid Halmir lord of The Haladin in battle against the orcs of Sauron or Gorthaur as he was named in the First Age. Just because Thingol didn`t like men doesn`t mean that all his people shunned them. It`s a prime example of Doriathrim living in friendship with others, despite the Girdle and their king.
When it comes to Haldir`s meeting with the princes, Celegorm is naturally far more diplomatic than Curufin because, well, Curufin is more or less Feanor in the story, since he was closest in all traits to his father. While I have always pictured Celegorm as being decent enough, that is until you defy him in some way, scorn and disdain come naturally to Curufin whose mood has been described by Tolkien as perilous and crafty. Not a very nice customer in many respects.
So there you have it. The first chapter to this story. Its mode is up close and personal in parts so it`s going to be long, but I hope you will enjoy it for the full duration.
Dedicated to the wonderful world of Fanfic...
Last edited by estenz on July 12th, 2006, 7:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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