Chapter V: The Coming of Time (Pt. I)
We made our way through narrow corridors to rooms filled with armor, shields, spears, and bows that King Thingol had stockpiled over many years for the occasion of war. The only sounds were the clashing of metal blended with the murmurs of armor-bearers hard at work. When they were finished, we took our weapons and began our return to the surface—our armor dragging against stone walls with an eerie lullaby.
We assembled in the empty hall that before had held such promise. I thought of Oropher. I wanted to look for him but my new wardrobe made it difficult. My view remained on the empty throne. Before long, King Thingol and Elmo appeared dressed similarly to us.
“You will follow us into Ossiriand,” King Thingol said flatly; his expression stoic. “I have it on good authority that our enemy looks to start with the least protected to force out the most in the attempt to destroy us all. This is no ordinary adversary we fight. This is an evil from whence time began. Its desire to extinguish life is only matched by its desire to rule over it. It will fight to the death and so must we. The future of this world depends on it.”
King Thingol and Elmo stepped down from their thrones and became one of us. When I was able to turn my head, I could see Galathil to my left.
“We will follow Father,” he whispered. “Galadhon will accompany our uncle.”
“Where are our sons,” I asked.
“They are to remain behind,” he answered. “To protect the borders.”
I could feel relief fall upon me. It was like a cool breeze flowing through my suit. If I did not return, at least my son had a chance to live as he would remain protected by the Girdle of Melian with his mother.
As we followed the king and his brother out of Menegroth, the faces of our families looked on from behind. I dared not look for Mîrwen. I wished the last I saw her would be her smile as our son married his beloved.
With Menegroth growing smaller in the distance, the familiar path we marched brought back the time we first entered Doriath after years the wilderness. Still, beneath the girdle, things were at peace—the world beyond had yet to bear witness to the peace we had known. It was changed and we had not for we chose to live our lives in relative secrecy. The evil around us seemed like myth yet we were told of its reality. We hoped it was legend—something that had passed away never to return. Now we were about to fact this nemesis we knew very little about.
We continued our journey to the borders. When we came to it, we stopped.
“Once we cross this boundary,” King Thingol began. “Only the stars hold our fate in their hands.”
Not a sound was heard—not a breath was taken. I felt the earth move beneath my feet only to realize I was walking with other elves into another land. Unremarkable was the world I once left behind yet the air was different. There was a distant stench I was not familiar with. Further away, we heard a rumbling. I noticed we were marching in the direction of both. The closer we came, the greater the sound and the stronger the smell.
With little warning, we came upon creatures so hideous and malodorous, I nearly fainted. Armor-clad with features that could only be called scaly but oleaginous. Their numbers seemed infinite in the light of the stars.
“Fire,” I heard Elmo say. Arrows flew past my head and pierced the flesh of a few of these monsters. It only served to anger them more. They broke ranks and came at us with such fury, I barely had time to draw my sword. I felled one—then another and another and another. Their evil was palpable and their numbers never-ending. I felt I was fighting for every year of my life. Out of exhaustion or perhaps a wound, I fell down amid the corpses of elves.
“Orothôn,” I heard a voice say. I thought I was in a dream. “Orothôn, are you with us?”
I opened my eyes. I was lying on top of a dead elf. His eyes stared into mine in anguish. I quickly jumped up in horror. I looked to see Galathil standing beside me.
“Are you alright,” he asked.
“Yes, I am,” I answered. I looked around to see elves and dwarves lying motionless. The carnage seemed to go the length of the Ered Luin.
“Where is Galadhon,” I asked. “Where is Elmo? Where is King Thingol?”
“Calm down,” Galathil said. “They live. I am afraid I cannot say the same for Denethor.”
I looked around trying to find his face among many. There were so many faces—each one staring into the void of death. Suddenly I remembered my friends.
“Where is Valdôr,” I asked. “Was he not with us?”
“He is gone, Orothôn,” another voice said. It was Êlengolas. “He fell not long after Denethor.”
I could not help but cry. I was overcome with grief. My visions had come to bear the bitter fruit of death I longed feared. Êlengolas and Galathil helped me navigate through the bodies and off the field of battle. In my grief, I hardly noticed Ónarr speaking with King Thingol nearby. I had again realized his people were among the dead and my grief worsened. I longed to be with Mîrwen and Oropher. I wondered if there was any home left to return to. Just as I began to drown myself in my thoughts, an elf approached me.
“You must stay strong, Orothôn,” he said. “Or else you will perish from your grief.”
I looked up to see Iarûr.
“I am,” he answered. “Not all is lost. For even in darkness light must shine. Rest, my friend. For soon we will return home.”
I smiled weakly as I leaned against the trunk of a tree and felt myself drift into a deep rest. I opened my eyes to the sound of metal against metal. Startled, I looked up to see soldiers picking up weapons from the ground.
“Did I startle you,” a young elf asked me.
“Yes, but I am fine,” I answered. “Carry on.”
He nodded and went on his way. When I rose to my feet, I saw that the creatures seem to retreat the field.
“They are orcs,” Êlengolas said as he approached from behind. “That is what Iarûr calls them.
“Where are they going,” I asked.
“I do not know nor do I care,” he said angrily. “They killed many of us. They left many a widow to grieve to make orphans. I suspect we have not seen the last of them.”
“Are we to leave for Doriath,” I asked.
“Yes, he said. “We were about to depart. I was sent to tell you. How is your arm?”
“My arm,” I asked. I look to see my arm was wrapped tightly from my elbow to my shoulder. For the first time, I felt the pain. “I was wounded by an orc?”
Êlengolas looked at me confused as he shook his head.
We made our way toward King Thingol and Elmo eating along with Galathil and Galadhon. King Thingol nodded at me and we began our return to Doriath.--TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 4-7-2019
Images: ©2001, 2002, 2003. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. All Rights Reserved.
