1. The escape from Thingol

Rebirth was nothing uncommon among the Elves in Valinor nowadays, or at least for those who had spent a long time in the Halls of Mandos for healing from the trauma of their deaths.

Among those reborn Elves were Elu Thingol, the Sinda High King who once had founded the famed kingdom of Doriath. Since his old realm and the rest of Beleriand now rested below the sea as a result of the War of Wrath, he had been allowed to make a Sindar-centered court in the south of Valinor with Melian once again at his side, on the condition that they did not try to have another child. As far as the Valar saw it, another half-Maia could possibly cause trouble in the Blessed Realm despite the lack of Men there and the whole story with Luthien and Beren was better kept as one single event.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Nimloth, the great-granddaughter of Thingol's youngest brother Elmo, was one of those reborn Elves. Much to her secret delight and joy, Námo had offered her husband and sons the same choice as her grandsons, Elrond and Elros, back in the First Age once the War of Wrath had ended. Not wanting to spit up because of the already powerful trauma with their deaths in the Second Kinslaying and the first hours in the Halls of Mandos where Nimloth and Dior had been terrified for their little children's possible fate alongside the fear that Dior would have to join his mortal ancestors because of Beren and Luthien being mortals at his birth, Dior had chosen to be counted among the Eldar and their twin sons, too young to properly remembering their famed grandparents at their death, had wanted to stay with their parents. It also ensured that they could meet with Elwing again one day.

"My dear boys, can you please see if your Ada have arrived yet? It is pretty late for him to arrive home now, even for a meeting with his grandfather. And I really would hope to not having to keep his share of the dinner heated up for much longer, or all the sauce will boil away."

Eluréd placed his own crayon neatly in the small pile of them beside the drawing his had been making to do her request, while Elurín simply rushed to the front door. Perhaps they were a bit too eager to do their requested task, for they opened the door with such force together that their father Dior nearly landed on the floor because he had placed his hand on the doorknob just before his sons opened.

"Woah!"

By pure luck, the twins managed to catch him together, though it ended with all three on the floor just as Nimloth looked out from the kitchen area.

"Less strength next time, boys…." Dior whispered between his gritted teeth under their honest apology, feeling that the tendons in his arm began to protest against being pulled like that. He had no energy to be angry on them for a such simple mistake, not after that horrible afternoon spent with his grandfather who once again had proved himself impossible to please so matter what what Dior tried to do.

"You have that heavy feeling of sadness again, Ada. You are almost never happy anymore, even around us."

Not a accusation, just stating a sad truth.

"I...am not feeling well, boys, and for that I am really sorry. It is not a illness or so, just...a huge sadness I can not really explain…I do not know if I even have a good word for it..." Dior admitted in a sad and tired voice as he absentmindedly touched the left side of his face with one hand, looking far older than his merely forty years of age, for it was only four springs since their shared rebirth and they did not exactly age as spirits in the Halls of Mandos.

"If you are sad, then we should keep you away from whatever it is that makes you feel like this!" Eluréd said, before Elurín added in a slightly higher voice:

"Yeah, you may even end up being sick from that sadness if you do get better soon, that is what Elrond said at his last visit here last summer when he grew worried about your health!"

How odd it was for them, two ten-year-olds, to be referring to their far older nephew in that manner. Then again, it was only thirty-two years between their births, and Elrond had avoided dying young like they had, mainly thanks to the mercy of Maedhros and Maglor at the Third Kinslaying.

"Actually, that is something I want to talk about while you eat your dinner, dear."

Dior knew from her tone that Nimloth meant seriousness, while a bowl of food was set at his place at the table. Her homemade food tasted far better than what had been served with Thingol a few hours earlier.

"Is it great-grandpa who makes Ada sad? He is not exactly nice to Ada at times…"

Straight on, of course. It was hard to hide things from the boys when they lived in a separate wing of Thingol's new palace.

"The same old complaints over how I lost both Doriath and how worthless I proved to be as King, when it actually was he who started it all with that idiotic idea of asking my father for a Silmaril as a bride-price…"

Dior were not the only one to feel that those complaints had gotten old already in the Halls of Mandos, Nimloth saw that her former King had no right to accuse her husband, his own grandson, for something that Dior had done his best to avoid.

"Actually, since Thingol seems to have made you his preferred scapegoat for the fall of Doriath rather than admitting his own part of it, and how he keeps hacking down on you in front of the whole court...do not deny it, dearest, you are slowly becoming a shadow of yourself because your self-esteem has been stamped down into the ground so many time now…"

Nimloth was right, Dior knew that he was slowly becoming more and more reclusive around the Elves at the Sindar court outside his own little family, out of fear for that Thingol would find yet another excuse to dismiss him as worthless.

The rest of the meal was spent in silence.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Later that evening, after that Eluréd and Elurín was fast asleep in their own bedchamber after trying to cheer up their father before their bedtime that they simply wore out themselves as a result, their parents had another, more private problem.

It was not the first time that problem showed up for them, but for Dior with his already poor self-esteem, it was yet another proof of that something had to be wrong with him. This time he even started to cry from his feelings of failure.

"Dior. Dior, please, calm down...this is not your fault, it is your grandfather's endless nagging and complaints that tears you down…" Nimloth attempted to say without any sound of disappointment in her voice that her husband feared to hear, she tried to console him but he pushed her gently away with his right arm, still crying very hard as his back faced her, Dior already curling up under the blankets out of shame.

With him being born as a half-Elven originally, Nimloth knew that Dior suffered from various issues that most Elves generally did not, such as that he and the boys still could get stuck by illness at very rare times nowadays when they all three had chosen to be counted among the Eldar. And the last four years had not proved kind against Dior, especially not whatever Thingol was involved due to finding out another secret Dior had tried to only have her knowing about.

Nimloth was not sure how Thingol had found out, whatever Dior had been a bit careless around people or if there had been a revealing hint to his behavior that Thingol had guessed due to hid ancient age, but she could still remember that horrible day when her husband had been summoned to his grandfather's private office, and returned home with all the signs of having been treated to a heavy beating by Thingol's own fists, his whole body still trembling in shock. And while that physical abuse did not happen too often since Thingol did not want people to notice the bruises Dior would end up with on places that could be covered with clothing, he still were not above using emotional abuse, often with belittle Dior's status at the court and deny him anything in which he could be useful. And the victim blaming about the Second Kinslaying was taking its toll on Dior.

Not many hours later, Nimloth woke up by a sound beside her. It was Dior, mumbling in sleep and moving around on his side of the bed. But the cold sweat on his brow, the clenched teeth and the hisses of pain revealed something worrying; he had nightmares about that fatal duel against Celegorm, where they had slain each others.

The sounds of battle everywhere, screams and running feet. The minor pain in his left arm as Dior managed to slam his triangular wooden shield into Celegorm's face, forcing the Fëanorian to fall over on his back with blood from both mouth and nose, him not first reacting due to the sudden shock caused by the hit. It was by pure luck that one of Dior's slain bodyguards had used his last breath to force the steel helmet off him, and that had made the third-born son of Fëanor a easier target for attacks against the head. Knowing how dangerous the Oath, and not to mention the rejection from Luthien so long ago that had caused his hate to burn even more, had made Celegorm into a shadow of his former self as a Noldor prince in Valinor, Dior knew that he might only have one chance.

Before Celegorm could react, a sword was buried into his throat. Above him, neither one moving in that moment that seemed endless, he saw Dior's face revealing how much he hated to do that, his grey eyes shining as he wanted to cry. Crying for a enemy, that could had been a ally, or maybe even his father if things had gone different between Luthien and her two suitors. Trying to not let his tears blinding him, Dior removed the sword, and Celegorm coughed up blood from his mouth, blood that stained the floor below him and his silver hair red. Dior may be a grown man by the standards of the Second-Born, old enough to be a married father of three children, but in just that moment his Elven side showed through, revealing his youth.

But Celegorm did not intend to leave for the Halls of Mandos in a passive manner. For a moment, Dior's face blended into that of Luthien's despite that Dior had some of Beren's facial features, his chestnut brown hair becoming her black curls. And Celegorm's heart once again felt that anger, humiliation over that Luthien had chosen a short-lived mortal over him. Grabbing hold of Dior's left ankle and making him lose balance so Dior knelt over his waistline before grabbing hold of his right hand with the sword to prevent Dior from moving away, Celegorm drove a hunting dagger in his own left hand across the first of two layers on the young King's leather armour, well-used in the past before he had succeeded his grandfather as King of Doriath, so a weak spot just above Dior's groin area was exposed. Despite dying Celegorm proved why his late father had named him Turcafinwë, "Strong Finwë" as a father-name, and a new cut across that exposed flesh was enough to create a deep wound on Dior since he was unable to move away from the attack, fatal enough to become a internal bleeding that would kill him unless Dior managed to get medicinal treatment quickly...

"...Dior, Dior! Wake up!"

Someone shaking his shoulders, and Dior forced himself to wake up. His eyes met those of Nimloth, and he already knew from earlier nightmares that he must be holding a hand against where Celegorm once had cut him, the remaining scar there would not fade unless he managed to be free from that trauma.

"This can not go on, the nightmares of your death is one thing, but I have enough of Thingol treats you like he does! We are leaving! Tonight, if we can, I have a rough guess of the guard swifts from a kind maid in the kitchen area..."

She was already up from the bed, still wearing her nightgown while opening the wardrobes where their clothes was placed unless used. Not even looking at the finer clothes meant for court, she tossed more random pieces of everyday wear, from all four seasons, into several travel bags they had stored on a shelf.

"But if we simply runs away….we will need a place to hide so grandfather can not find us so easy...and we are bound to stand out in some way, it is not many Elflings who are twins like Réd and Rín...and your maternal Silvan lineage is strong in your veins, beloved…" Dior spoke in a thin voice, still somewhat in shock from the nightmare and in honest disbelief over what she was doing, referring to his wife's slightly darker skin tone than his own. In return, a warm tunic and a pair of riding leggings was tossed at him.

"Get dressed as quickly as you can. I am waking up the boys and helping them to pack the most necessary. Elwing needs to be informed of that we will no longer live here, if she want to visit. Write a note that will be placed among the letters to be delivered with messenger birds in the morning!"

Dior found no way to opposite his wife about this sudden idea that was not even fully thought out outside that they had to leave. She was right, he would very well end up back in the Halls of Mandos eventually if he kept living around Thingol, this time possibly from a suicide caused by snapping under everything his grandfather saw as wrong in him, or being broken from what Thingol did in his unhelpful attempts to "correct" his grandson. He could not do that to his family, not when his pride over the Silmaril had led to their deaths once.

Once Dior had packed some bread, cheese, a few fruits and nuts for them to eat for the first days on the road among with filling some water skin, Nimloth came out with their sons, both half-asleep but dressed and carrying one favorite toy each so they could have something familiar with them.

"Where are we going? And how will we manage to hide that we have run away? We will be hunted once it is clear that we are gone," Dior had to ask in uncertainty, and it was perfectly understandable that he was worried.

"The woods of Oromë. Thingol will think of searching for us in the bigger cities or villages first, it is not uncommon that families with children wants to live close to places where they can get help or have quick access to necessary things if something happens. And Melian used to be a Maia serving both Vána and Estë before meeting your grandfather, but I think she would try and keep our disappearance a secret that she and Thingol have to solve together at first, before getting any outside help in searching for us. Besides, you and the boys can still suffer unexpectedly from illness even if you chose the Eldar, right? A unexpected pneumonia, like back when both you and the boys had to suffer a whole month of coughing and fatigue when they was two years old."

Dior groaned weakly at that memory as he was handed Eluréd to carry in his arms so they could hurry. It had not been fun to be ill and having to stay in bed that whole time until he was well again, when Nimloth alone had to do all the indoor chores and tend to the vegetable garden and field where they had grown crops so they would not be dependent on cereals from Doriath which had to transported all the way, or generosity from the Green-Elves.

"...yes, setting up a note on the door that we are ill and that you are best left alone to nurse us. Perhaps even a request to send for Elrond if we do not show up in seven days? That should be enough time for us to escape to one of the bigger crossroads, at least," he suggested, a weak hint of humour in his voice now when he began to drift more and more towards the hope of finally getting free from Thingol and his disappointment.

"With greatest pleasure," Nimloth smiled, before kissing him on the cheek to encourage him to not back out from this chance of freedom. Then, once they had set up the note about the false illness on their door, they sneaked away into the shadows of Thingol's palace.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Author's note:

Credit for the inspiration to the flashback between Dior and Celegorm goes to the Tolkien artist Idahlrillion on her Tumblr page, from a AU image of Maedhros and Fingon

The idea of Nimloth having a darker skin tone is partly because I have seen many fine fanart of Tolkien characters as non-European in appearance and to trying avoid the cliché of a white woman with a husband of different skin tone or the opposite, a native maiden falling for a white man, Eluréd and Elurín are meant to have mixed skin tones from their parents, they look lighter than Nimloth but not as pale as Dior.

I liked the idea of Dior wearing a leather armour in his last battle because:

1) he had grown up outside Doriath and likely was not used to wearing steel armour before he became King of Doriath, he would most likely be more comfortable in what he was used to wear from earlier. Both his birth-place Tol Galen and his later home at Lanthir Lamath where he and Nimloth probably moved after their wedding was rather distant in travel from Doriath

2) it would also show the contrast between him and Celegorm in terms of combat experience, Dior was born just two years before the Nírnaeth Arnoediad, the last great battle against Morgoth before the War of Wrath, while Celegorm had survived all the attacks from Morgoth before.