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b2memB2MeM Prompt and Category: (early prompts) "There he wandered long in a dream of music that turned into running water, and then suddenly into a voice." (Fellowship of the Ring, "Many Meetings")
Day 2 photo prompt, rain on the leaves
Format: it's 2400 words o_O *tries to figure out what to call that* ficlet it is not, I'm sure, lol
Genre: drama? I think
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mentions of battle, death, and funereal practices
Characters: Huor, Húrin, Celeborn, Galathil, Galadriel Oropher, Melian, OCs
Pairings: Galdor/Hareth, Celeborn/Galadriel
Creator’s Notes (optional): I have a feeling the ‘random generator’ is going to be a thing. Thank you to Emma, my usual co-author, for help with this story! It contains the OCs Celepharn, Neldiel, and Vehiron, who are Oropher's parents and brother in our-verse. Celepharn is the paternal first cousin of Celeborn and Galathil, through our OC Gwathion, Elmo's younger son.
Summary: A hunting party goes astray – and the fates of Man and Elf begin to entwine.
“Where are you going in such a hurry, cousin?” Galathil called after Celepharn, shouting after him as the youngest grandson of Lord Elmo cantered past. He nudged his own horse to catch up, and they rode companionably in the pouring rain, heedless of the weather.
“Celeborn, the ellith, and my sons have left us behind again. You were too busy cloud-gazing to notice. What is the use, Galathil? The sky is filled with sheets of rain coming down on us. Do you not care?”
Galathil smirked. “No.”
“Well, the ladies can’t go hawking in this rain, and our bows are useless. We had better find shelter, or hope they have.” Celepharn looked around. Most traces of his beloved’s passage with his elflings, Celeborn and Galadriel had been washed away, but there were still some. He plowed on through the rain-soaked woods, following the swelling river to the north.
The dwellings of the Haladin were on the northwestern border, he knew, but it would be some time before they reached it. They would surely come across an outpost of either the Elven or Mannish garrisons before then – and so they did, an earthen cave dug into a rise ahead. There was a fire lit, and the Elves slowed, approaching warily. It could be foes who had taken the cave.
"Who goes there?" Oh, thank Eru. Celeborn.
"It's me and Celepharn, Brother." Galathil jumped lightly down from his horse and knew Celepharn was right behind him as they led their mounts inside. "You ran away from us."
"Well, we encountered a bit of trouble." Only then did Galathil notice the two golden-haired boys - for Mortal boys they must be - engaged in a game of Stones with Celepharn's sons as they warmed by the fire.
Celepharn was loath to interrupt his sons to ask questions. Instead he went to Neldiel and kissed her. "Beloved, I thought we'd lost you."
Neldiel's eyes sparkled in the glow from the firelight. "You just couldn't keep up."
"Yes, well, Galathil was lagging." Celepharn rolled his eyes where his cousins couldn't see. "Honestly, he's always watching the skies even when there's nothing to see but rain." He paused, looking around thoughtfully. "So it seems you found company, hmm?"
"They were just here," Neldiel said, by way of explanation. Celepharn had heard her say similar things before - usually about animals she'd claimed to have 'just' found.
Celepharn raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "They were 'just here', beloved?" he repeated, hoping Neldiel didn't intend to adopt the boys. They were children of the Secondborn, not fluffy animals.
"Well, they were." Neldiel gestured vaguely. "We came into the cave for shelter and they were just here."
Celepharn glanced at their sons and the human children. The taller boy straightened. "My name is Húrin, son of Galdor, my lords. This is my brother, Huor. We didn't mean to intrude on your cave, but we needed shelter. The storm was rather sudden."
"It was," Celepharn agreed. "We would not wish you to catch a chill. Son of Galdor, do you say? Not Lord Galdor of Dor-lómin?"
"The same," Húrin agreed. "But we dwell with our mother's kinfolk, the Haladin of Brethil."
"Ah, then you are nearer home than I thought," Celepharn allowed.
Húrin shook his head. "Our uncle Haldir says we may return to Dor-lómin soon. I am sixteen, after all, very nearly a man."
Huor looked at the floor. "I am thirteen," he admitted. "I know Dor-lómin is our birthplace, but I do not think of it as home, really. I would rather remain in Elven lands."
Neldiel perched on a rock near to her sons and the mortal boys and pulled her knees up close for warmth. "But what are you doing out here?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Huor looked up. "Uncle Haldir and the men went out to fight yrch," he said readily, while Húrin motioned for him to keep quiet. "We wanted to go too, but they wouldn't let us, so we followed them anyway. Then the storm came, and we couldn't track them anymore. Húrin's really good at tracking, you know, but the rain washed away everything. We'd have to be Elves to see any more tracks. Then he remembered Uncle Haldir telling us about a cave, so we tried to find it. And it's here, so we're here."
Neither Celeborn nor Celepharn looked impressed. Galathil was hiding a smile, Oropher looked scandalised, and Vehiron was openly grinning. Lady Galadriel was just watching serenely. "Oh," Neldiel said mildly. "Well, that makes sense."
Huor nodded. "Of course it does," he agreed, while his older brother just looked relieved. "So when we got here we found firewood already here and it was dry, so Húrin made a fire to warm us up. It wasn't stealing, was it?" he worried aloud. "I hope we won't be in trouble."
Celepharn sighed. "I doubt our patrols begrudge you a few sticks, child. As you say, you needed warmth, and no one else was present to build the fire for you. No, you are not in trouble for that."
"Have you eaten?" Galathil asked.
Húrin grimaced. "We lost our food supplies somewhere in the woods," he admitted. "There were a few dried apples and strips of meat in that storage barrel at the back of the cave, but it wasn't much. I hope we shan't be in trouble for that either, my lord."
"Of course you won't, sweetness," Neldiel reassured him, as Galathil took a breath.
"I would have said that anyway," Galathil complained.
Húrin blushed at Neldiel's form of address, and Huor nodded. "Thank you, my lady, my lord. I just hope the storm ends soon, so we can find our uncle and help him. What if he needs us?"
"He didn't seem to want us when he went off without us," Húrin muttered.
Celepharn shook his head. "He didn't want you in danger, child. You are his nephews and he wants to keep you safe. Both of you."
"I am not a child," Húrin retorted, then backtracked hastily. "My lord," he added much more respectfully.
Oropher laughed. "Try telling that to someone who hasn't been alive for nearly seven yéni."
Húrin's jaw dropped. "Seven...seven..." He stammered.
"Yéni," Huor supplied helpfully. "Ennin. Long-years. Centuries." He continued rattling off terms until Húrin's patience ran out and the older boy cuffed him on the back of the head.
"Stop that. I know what yéni are," he muttered.
"And Ada isn't even the eldest one here," Vehiron added cheerfully.
The two boys looked at the Elves, wide-eyed. "Really?" they breathed.
Celeborn chuckled quietly. "Really," he agreed.
"That one is positively ancient," Neldiel said mischievously, nodding at Galadriel who just rolled her eyes.
"How ancient?" Huor dared to ask, but his question went unanswered. The Elves realised the storm had blown over, and the howling now was not that of the wind.
"Yrch!" Galathil hissed, as the sounds of pitched battle were joined. "Neldiel, Galadriel, take the elflings and get out of here."
"I am not an elfling-minder, brother," Galadriel said calmly.
"And we don't need to be taken anywhere," Vehiron protested. "We can fight."
"So can we," Húrin added, snatching up his long knife. "I hear Uncle Haldir out there! He needs us."
Celeborn frowned. "Enough," he said firmly. "Galadriel, Neldiel, go home with Oropher and Vehiron now. We will follow as soon as we may. These children must be returned to their uncle as soon as the danger is past."
"You can't just send us home like little boys, we're trained warriors," Vehiron argued incredulously. Oropher was looking just as pained as his younger brother sounded, but ever the dutiful heir, he was holding his tongue.
Neldiel exhaled and stepped closer to Celeborn, tuning out the sound of Celepharn pulling Vehiron aside and speaking sharply to him. Her hand resting on the knife at her waist made it plain that she wanted to fight, but she was doing her best to set an example for the children. "The mortal boys should come with us. They can be returned to their uncle later."
"And have Lord Haldir accuse us of kidnapping?" Celeborn returned. "We need someone to return to Thingol and tell him how far the yrch have come into Brethil. I trust you and my beloved to bear that message, Neldiel."
"But the boys," Neldiel began.
"Neldiel, come," Galadriel commanded the younger elleth.
Neldiel exhaled, but she turned away from Celeborn and went instead to Celepharn as he finished speaking to Vehiron. "Lord Haldir accusing us of kidnap is far preferable to harm befalling those boys," she said, as her beloved drew his sword and tilted her chin up with the tips of his gloved fingers for a goodbye kiss.
Celepharn kissed Neldiel. "No harm will befall them. Celeborn, Galathil and I will be sure of it," Celepharn said quietly. "May the Belain be with you, love. We will come to you soon."
"I will hold you to that," Neldiel whispered.
She went to Húrin and Huor then, and gave them both a kiss of benediction. "Listen to the ellyn. Be safe."
"Yes, my lady," Huor said. His brother only nodded mutely. When the ellith had gone, taking Oropher and Vehiron with them, the three older ellyn headed out with the boys.
Celepharn and Galathil rode one on each side of the human boys, Celeborn riding in front. Up ahead, the Haladin were fighting fiercely. The number of yrch was greatly reduced, though a few Men lay dead or injured, and the Elves joined the fray. Lord Haldir was fighting nearby, and hardly noticed as his nephews threw themselves into the battle as well.
Galathil fought as fiercely as his brother and their cousin, and though he tried to keep an eye on the young mortal boys it was difficult to pay attention to both them and the battle raging around them.
By the time the ellyn and the Haladin had slain the yrch, Celeborn was finding it hard to draw breath. They had pursued the creatures past the eaves of Brethil, and northwards, almost to the ford of Brithiach. Now, as the Haladin regrouped, he joined his brother and cousin, looking around for their charges. A silver-white mist enveloped the land ahead of them, the plain of Dimbar; even he couldn't see the Echoriath that lay some distance ahead. They would have to turn back.
"Where are they?" Galathil gasped. "Where did the children go?"
Celeborn looked around, wide-eyed. "I...don't know, muindor-laes. I don't see them...anywhere." He swallowed hard.
Celepharn, meanwhile, was searching the dead and wounded. "They are not here," he said, only half grateful. At least they could assume the boys were alive. But alive where?
"But they cannot have just vanished," Galathil insisted.
Celeborn, continuing to search, shook his head. "Perhaps they have," he replied quietly, pointing ahead into the mists. "If they had gone any other way, I would find their tracks. But they have not."
"Then what should we do?" Galathil asked quietly.
"We should help the Haladin get home," Celeborn replied quietly. "That mist isn't a natural weather phenomenon. It must be the work of the Belain, and if they don't want the boys found, we're not going to find them."
Galathil nodded quietly, exhaling. "Very well, muindor."
"I will report to the Queen when we return home," Celeborn added. "She will be able to tell us what to do, if there is anything we can do."
Celepharn, listening, nodded. "Very well," he echoed Galathil. He looked over at the Haladin. Some were tending the injured. Others were collecting valuables from their dead and arranging the bodies on biers; they began burning the bodies. They would commit the ashes to the winds, rather than allow the bodies of their kin to be buried here, so near to the Valley of Dreadful Death and the Mountains of Terror, from whence the yrch descended.
Lord Haldir approached Galathil. He had his arm bound in a sling, but otherwise seemed physically well, though frantic as he looked around. "My nephews," he whispered. "They were here, weren't they, my lords?"
"Yes, Lord Haldir," Galathil said quietly. "I am sorry."
"But they lie not among the dead, nor the wounded, and they are not among those who remain hale. Where have they gone?" Haldir pleaded. "I see no tracks."
To that, Galathil could only shake his head. Celeborn turned to Lord Haldir.
“I believe they have gone into the mist,” he said quietly. “I will consult the Queen about it, but I do not believe they will be harmed, whatever befall. The mist does not seem an evil omen, though I can see naught within.”
“if even an Elf-prince can see naught, the eyes of my men have no chance,” Haldir replied. “I pray the Queen will do all she can for them.” Be safe, he thought, hoping somewhere his nephews could hear him. This land was besieged by terror…and yet the worst fear was to ride home unaccompanied by the heirs of Galdor and Hareth, his beloved sister. Whatever would Hareth say to him when she found out? He hated to think. Still, they could not stay.
As the reek of ash and burning flesh spread over the plain, and the last of the funeral pyres was extinguished, Haldir turned to his remaining men. “We must go home.”
The three Princes of Doriath rode alongside the Men, allowing them their grief, and guarding them that they, at least, would pass safely, unmolested. As they rode, Celeborn lifted a continuous prayer to the Belain, wishing with every beat of his heart. May those children of Men return home safely!
Fear not, Nephew, he heard as he entered the Girdle of Melian. Fear not for the sons of Galdor! Their destiny lies elsewhere, and their doom is not on your shoulders. For now, they remain well. But remember them, for their fates are entwined with those of the Elves, now and forever.
What that could mean, Celeborn had no idea – but he trusted Melian knew what she was about. Someday, he supposed, he would know.
Day 2 photo prompt, rain on the leaves
Format: it's 2400 words o_O *tries to figure out what to call that* ficlet it is not, I'm sure, lol
Genre: drama? I think
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mentions of battle, death, and funereal practices
Characters: Huor, Húrin, Celeborn, Galathil, Galadriel Oropher, Melian, OCs
Pairings: Galdor/Hareth, Celeborn/Galadriel
Creator’s Notes (optional): I have a feeling the ‘random generator’ is going to be a thing. Thank you to Emma, my usual co-author, for help with this story! It contains the OCs Celepharn, Neldiel, and Vehiron, who are Oropher's parents and brother in our-verse. Celepharn is the paternal first cousin of Celeborn and Galathil, through our OC Gwathion, Elmo's younger son.
Summary: A hunting party goes astray – and the fates of Man and Elf begin to entwine.
“Where are you going in such a hurry, cousin?” Galathil called after Celepharn, shouting after him as the youngest grandson of Lord Elmo cantered past. He nudged his own horse to catch up, and they rode companionably in the pouring rain, heedless of the weather.
“Celeborn, the ellith, and my sons have left us behind again. You were too busy cloud-gazing to notice. What is the use, Galathil? The sky is filled with sheets of rain coming down on us. Do you not care?”
Galathil smirked. “No.”
“Well, the ladies can’t go hawking in this rain, and our bows are useless. We had better find shelter, or hope they have.” Celepharn looked around. Most traces of his beloved’s passage with his elflings, Celeborn and Galadriel had been washed away, but there were still some. He plowed on through the rain-soaked woods, following the swelling river to the north.
The dwellings of the Haladin were on the northwestern border, he knew, but it would be some time before they reached it. They would surely come across an outpost of either the Elven or Mannish garrisons before then – and so they did, an earthen cave dug into a rise ahead. There was a fire lit, and the Elves slowed, approaching warily. It could be foes who had taken the cave.
"Who goes there?" Oh, thank Eru. Celeborn.
"It's me and Celepharn, Brother." Galathil jumped lightly down from his horse and knew Celepharn was right behind him as they led their mounts inside. "You ran away from us."
"Well, we encountered a bit of trouble." Only then did Galathil notice the two golden-haired boys - for Mortal boys they must be - engaged in a game of Stones with Celepharn's sons as they warmed by the fire.
Celepharn was loath to interrupt his sons to ask questions. Instead he went to Neldiel and kissed her. "Beloved, I thought we'd lost you."
Neldiel's eyes sparkled in the glow from the firelight. "You just couldn't keep up."
"Yes, well, Galathil was lagging." Celepharn rolled his eyes where his cousins couldn't see. "Honestly, he's always watching the skies even when there's nothing to see but rain." He paused, looking around thoughtfully. "So it seems you found company, hmm?"
"They were just here," Neldiel said, by way of explanation. Celepharn had heard her say similar things before - usually about animals she'd claimed to have 'just' found.
Celepharn raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "They were 'just here', beloved?" he repeated, hoping Neldiel didn't intend to adopt the boys. They were children of the Secondborn, not fluffy animals.
"Well, they were." Neldiel gestured vaguely. "We came into the cave for shelter and they were just here."
Celepharn glanced at their sons and the human children. The taller boy straightened. "My name is Húrin, son of Galdor, my lords. This is my brother, Huor. We didn't mean to intrude on your cave, but we needed shelter. The storm was rather sudden."
"It was," Celepharn agreed. "We would not wish you to catch a chill. Son of Galdor, do you say? Not Lord Galdor of Dor-lómin?"
"The same," Húrin agreed. "But we dwell with our mother's kinfolk, the Haladin of Brethil."
"Ah, then you are nearer home than I thought," Celepharn allowed.
Húrin shook his head. "Our uncle Haldir says we may return to Dor-lómin soon. I am sixteen, after all, very nearly a man."
Huor looked at the floor. "I am thirteen," he admitted. "I know Dor-lómin is our birthplace, but I do not think of it as home, really. I would rather remain in Elven lands."
Neldiel perched on a rock near to her sons and the mortal boys and pulled her knees up close for warmth. "But what are you doing out here?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Huor looked up. "Uncle Haldir and the men went out to fight yrch," he said readily, while Húrin motioned for him to keep quiet. "We wanted to go too, but they wouldn't let us, so we followed them anyway. Then the storm came, and we couldn't track them anymore. Húrin's really good at tracking, you know, but the rain washed away everything. We'd have to be Elves to see any more tracks. Then he remembered Uncle Haldir telling us about a cave, so we tried to find it. And it's here, so we're here."
Neither Celeborn nor Celepharn looked impressed. Galathil was hiding a smile, Oropher looked scandalised, and Vehiron was openly grinning. Lady Galadriel was just watching serenely. "Oh," Neldiel said mildly. "Well, that makes sense."
Huor nodded. "Of course it does," he agreed, while his older brother just looked relieved. "So when we got here we found firewood already here and it was dry, so Húrin made a fire to warm us up. It wasn't stealing, was it?" he worried aloud. "I hope we won't be in trouble."
Celepharn sighed. "I doubt our patrols begrudge you a few sticks, child. As you say, you needed warmth, and no one else was present to build the fire for you. No, you are not in trouble for that."
"Have you eaten?" Galathil asked.
Húrin grimaced. "We lost our food supplies somewhere in the woods," he admitted. "There were a few dried apples and strips of meat in that storage barrel at the back of the cave, but it wasn't much. I hope we shan't be in trouble for that either, my lord."
"Of course you won't, sweetness," Neldiel reassured him, as Galathil took a breath.
"I would have said that anyway," Galathil complained.
Húrin blushed at Neldiel's form of address, and Huor nodded. "Thank you, my lady, my lord. I just hope the storm ends soon, so we can find our uncle and help him. What if he needs us?"
"He didn't seem to want us when he went off without us," Húrin muttered.
Celepharn shook his head. "He didn't want you in danger, child. You are his nephews and he wants to keep you safe. Both of you."
"I am not a child," Húrin retorted, then backtracked hastily. "My lord," he added much more respectfully.
Oropher laughed. "Try telling that to someone who hasn't been alive for nearly seven yéni."
Húrin's jaw dropped. "Seven...seven..." He stammered.
"Yéni," Huor supplied helpfully. "Ennin. Long-years. Centuries." He continued rattling off terms until Húrin's patience ran out and the older boy cuffed him on the back of the head.
"Stop that. I know what yéni are," he muttered.
"And Ada isn't even the eldest one here," Vehiron added cheerfully.
The two boys looked at the Elves, wide-eyed. "Really?" they breathed.
Celeborn chuckled quietly. "Really," he agreed.
"That one is positively ancient," Neldiel said mischievously, nodding at Galadriel who just rolled her eyes.
"How ancient?" Huor dared to ask, but his question went unanswered. The Elves realised the storm had blown over, and the howling now was not that of the wind.
"Yrch!" Galathil hissed, as the sounds of pitched battle were joined. "Neldiel, Galadriel, take the elflings and get out of here."
"I am not an elfling-minder, brother," Galadriel said calmly.
"And we don't need to be taken anywhere," Vehiron protested. "We can fight."
"So can we," Húrin added, snatching up his long knife. "I hear Uncle Haldir out there! He needs us."
Celeborn frowned. "Enough," he said firmly. "Galadriel, Neldiel, go home with Oropher and Vehiron now. We will follow as soon as we may. These children must be returned to their uncle as soon as the danger is past."
"You can't just send us home like little boys, we're trained warriors," Vehiron argued incredulously. Oropher was looking just as pained as his younger brother sounded, but ever the dutiful heir, he was holding his tongue.
Neldiel exhaled and stepped closer to Celeborn, tuning out the sound of Celepharn pulling Vehiron aside and speaking sharply to him. Her hand resting on the knife at her waist made it plain that she wanted to fight, but she was doing her best to set an example for the children. "The mortal boys should come with us. They can be returned to their uncle later."
"And have Lord Haldir accuse us of kidnapping?" Celeborn returned. "We need someone to return to Thingol and tell him how far the yrch have come into Brethil. I trust you and my beloved to bear that message, Neldiel."
"But the boys," Neldiel began.
"Neldiel, come," Galadriel commanded the younger elleth.
Neldiel exhaled, but she turned away from Celeborn and went instead to Celepharn as he finished speaking to Vehiron. "Lord Haldir accusing us of kidnap is far preferable to harm befalling those boys," she said, as her beloved drew his sword and tilted her chin up with the tips of his gloved fingers for a goodbye kiss.
Celepharn kissed Neldiel. "No harm will befall them. Celeborn, Galathil and I will be sure of it," Celepharn said quietly. "May the Belain be with you, love. We will come to you soon."
"I will hold you to that," Neldiel whispered.
She went to Húrin and Huor then, and gave them both a kiss of benediction. "Listen to the ellyn. Be safe."
"Yes, my lady," Huor said. His brother only nodded mutely. When the ellith had gone, taking Oropher and Vehiron with them, the three older ellyn headed out with the boys.
Celepharn and Galathil rode one on each side of the human boys, Celeborn riding in front. Up ahead, the Haladin were fighting fiercely. The number of yrch was greatly reduced, though a few Men lay dead or injured, and the Elves joined the fray. Lord Haldir was fighting nearby, and hardly noticed as his nephews threw themselves into the battle as well.
Galathil fought as fiercely as his brother and their cousin, and though he tried to keep an eye on the young mortal boys it was difficult to pay attention to both them and the battle raging around them.
By the time the ellyn and the Haladin had slain the yrch, Celeborn was finding it hard to draw breath. They had pursued the creatures past the eaves of Brethil, and northwards, almost to the ford of Brithiach. Now, as the Haladin regrouped, he joined his brother and cousin, looking around for their charges. A silver-white mist enveloped the land ahead of them, the plain of Dimbar; even he couldn't see the Echoriath that lay some distance ahead. They would have to turn back.
"Where are they?" Galathil gasped. "Where did the children go?"
Celeborn looked around, wide-eyed. "I...don't know, muindor-laes. I don't see them...anywhere." He swallowed hard.
Celepharn, meanwhile, was searching the dead and wounded. "They are not here," he said, only half grateful. At least they could assume the boys were alive. But alive where?
"But they cannot have just vanished," Galathil insisted.
Celeborn, continuing to search, shook his head. "Perhaps they have," he replied quietly, pointing ahead into the mists. "If they had gone any other way, I would find their tracks. But they have not."
"Then what should we do?" Galathil asked quietly.
"We should help the Haladin get home," Celeborn replied quietly. "That mist isn't a natural weather phenomenon. It must be the work of the Belain, and if they don't want the boys found, we're not going to find them."
Galathil nodded quietly, exhaling. "Very well, muindor."
"I will report to the Queen when we return home," Celeborn added. "She will be able to tell us what to do, if there is anything we can do."
Celepharn, listening, nodded. "Very well," he echoed Galathil. He looked over at the Haladin. Some were tending the injured. Others were collecting valuables from their dead and arranging the bodies on biers; they began burning the bodies. They would commit the ashes to the winds, rather than allow the bodies of their kin to be buried here, so near to the Valley of Dreadful Death and the Mountains of Terror, from whence the yrch descended.
Lord Haldir approached Galathil. He had his arm bound in a sling, but otherwise seemed physically well, though frantic as he looked around. "My nephews," he whispered. "They were here, weren't they, my lords?"
"Yes, Lord Haldir," Galathil said quietly. "I am sorry."
"But they lie not among the dead, nor the wounded, and they are not among those who remain hale. Where have they gone?" Haldir pleaded. "I see no tracks."
To that, Galathil could only shake his head. Celeborn turned to Lord Haldir.
“I believe they have gone into the mist,” he said quietly. “I will consult the Queen about it, but I do not believe they will be harmed, whatever befall. The mist does not seem an evil omen, though I can see naught within.”
“if even an Elf-prince can see naught, the eyes of my men have no chance,” Haldir replied. “I pray the Queen will do all she can for them.” Be safe, he thought, hoping somewhere his nephews could hear him. This land was besieged by terror…and yet the worst fear was to ride home unaccompanied by the heirs of Galdor and Hareth, his beloved sister. Whatever would Hareth say to him when she found out? He hated to think. Still, they could not stay.
As the reek of ash and burning flesh spread over the plain, and the last of the funeral pyres was extinguished, Haldir turned to his remaining men. “We must go home.”
The three Princes of Doriath rode alongside the Men, allowing them their grief, and guarding them that they, at least, would pass safely, unmolested. As they rode, Celeborn lifted a continuous prayer to the Belain, wishing with every beat of his heart. May those children of Men return home safely!
Fear not, Nephew, he heard as he entered the Girdle of Melian. Fear not for the sons of Galdor! Their destiny lies elsewhere, and their doom is not on your shoulders. For now, they remain well. But remember them, for their fates are entwined with those of the Elves, now and forever.
What that could mean, Celeborn had no idea – but he trusted Melian knew what she was about. Someday, he supposed, he would know.
