A Chance Meeting
By: Mooselk
The darkness was profound. And so, when the faint blue light twinkled at him, Beleg did not believe right away that it was truly there. For in such darkness there could be no light. It must have been a product of his wishful thinking.
And yet, when he blinked and rubbed his eyes, the light remained, cold and shimmering. Beautiful. Hungry for light, Beleg walked towards it, only to recoil when he noticed the shape hunched over the little jewel.
An Orc! His fingers inched towards his quiver, bow clenched in his hand. But the figure was thin, haggard, pitiful, judging by what he could see. And no creature of Darkness could possess a light such as that one.
Beleg suddenly realized he had seen it's like before. It had been brought into Menegroth by Finrod, and became a simple stone as soon as it left his fingers. It did not light up for even Melian, and Finrod had apologized sheepishly, claiming that he supposed the stones would respond only to their makers, the Noldor. Fëanorian lamps, he had called them, and, upon learning their name, none of the Doriathrim would even come near them.
So, a Noldo. Still clutching his bow, Beleg crept closer. The Noldo did not move. In fact, he seemed to be sleeping, curled on his side. When he was close enough to distinguish the Elf's face, Beleg could barely bite back a cry of dismay. Horrible scars ran down the length of the stranger's face, and he lay with his head cushioned on a handless arm. He was trembling even as he slept.
Hesitantly, Beleg reached out his arm to brush the sleeper's shoulder. The Noldo instantly darted awake, scuttling backwards, and throwing an arm before his face. His lamp sputtered.
Beleg froze, sinking to his knees into a non-threatening position. After a moment, the Elf peeked out from behind his arm and Beleg could see eyes examining his face.
"You are Elven…" the Noldo finally whispered in wonder, crawling back to where Beleg knelt. "You are!"
"Yes, I am. There is nothing to fear here." Beleg replied, slowly relaxing and digging around in his pocket. He pulled out a packet of lembas. "Here. You must be hungry."
The Noldo eyed it warily but hunger overcame wariness and soon he was munching the waybread with little moans of delight.
"Not so much! You will make yourself sick!" Beleg cried, and instantly regretted it when the other shied back. "Ai…what is your name, friend?"
"Name? I am…Gwindor, yes, Gwindor! Gwindor son of Guilin! That is my name!" the Elf croaked, with a broken-toothed grin as tears welled up in his eyes.
"Gwindorgwindorgwindor…." He sobbed, burying his face in his knees. Beleg looked at this wreck of what must have once been a proud Noldo Lord and felt the worry in his heart re-ignite. Was this what laid in store for his dear friend? He would not let it happen. By my life, Beleg thought, I will save you, Túrin. I will not let you fall into this darkness.
A/N: Written for a friend on tumblr. Gwindor needs more love, the poor darling.