At that moment, with Luthien turning all of her attention inward, and Celegorm not yet fully awake, Beren and Curufin looked at each other.

"I wish I had chosen different words. I'm sorry for my part in starting this."

"Don't be", Curufin replied. "You behaved appropriately while Tyelko didn't. Sad I am to admit this, but my brother is unpredictable. At one moment, he's happy and you'd never guess what flows below the surface. Next moment, he explodes, cannot take no for an answer, cannot take his authority being questioned... and he cannot carry his wine. I wish I had foreseen this."

"Perhaps if I hadn't provoked..."

"Perhaps. But there is no guarantee. I think it all turned for the worse when he learnt of your mission. You have a good companion at your side. I hope her injury can be mended. And please know: very few on this earth are fast enough to deal with my brother from a late start."

Beren looked back at Luthien. She was touching the area around the dagger with her healthy hand, and still existed in some unseen world of her own, speaking without pronouncing a single word. He tried to read her lips, but lip-reading Sindarin was a vain affair. He couldn't have properly read the lips of a fellow human speaking his native tongue.

He bent his head close to Luthien's chest and... almost jumped. At some distance to her, he had started seeing visions. Visions of things he couldn't understand, but which might have been, no, could have only been... the inner workings of a living body. He held her gently, but didn't approach to that distance again, understanding that whatever craft she was using to influence herself, was not meant to be shared or interfered with.

"Did I... hit her instead?" were the first words Celegorm could pronounce.

"You did, but not before she evened the score with you. Calm. I'm trying to stop your head from bleeding," Curufin explained, soaking a piece of fabric with some liquid and pressing Celegorm's face with it. "You might have fractures. How do you feel?"

"I feel as if someone had clubbed me. I can't sense a fracture. What happened to her?"

"Your dagger hit her shoulder. It went deep and pierced the artery, but the wound is not open and much blood hasn't flown. She is trying to mend it and I will likewise try. Here, keep this pressed firmly against your forehead and brow."

When Curufin turned towards Luthien, she sensed it, opened her eyes and spoke.

"I think I'm ready now. Please hold your hand onto the site of entry and pull it by one inch. Prevent the blade from slipping upwards, or it might slice through. Just an inch. No more."

"Do you need herbs to lessen pain?"

"No. I have pain and blood pressure under good control. It's the wound I worry about. If lots of blood starts flowing, it will have to be pressed hard, and that will break the clots I've built to keep blood within its vessel."

He laid his left hand against the sides of the wound and withdrew the blade by a little. Seeing Curufin's hands move, Beren realized why Luthien had asked the elf, not him. Curufin acted with machine-like calmness and precision. Emotion didn't make his hands tremble, risk didn't make him tense. In his thousands of years, he had seen such situations. Perhaps even exactly this situation.

Luthien gritted teeth and her face formed a grimace, but then she calmed and said "thanks" in a hushed voice, bringing her hand once again to the site of the wound, where blood was now pulsing out. From the wound of a human, blood would have rushed, quickly depriving the body. Luthien closed her eyes and soon, the flow slowed. Beren held her hand and noticed how unusually cold she was. Also, there was almost no pulse. Luthien was deliberately bringing herself close to shutting down. When heartbeat lacked all strength, blood couldn't tear its way out.

"I need a few more minutes before the next attempt", she whispered.

"Take as many as you need," Curufin said and turned his attention back to his brother.

"Beren?", she whispered.

"I'm here. How are you?"

"I'm tired but I think we can get it out. Can you find something from my backpack? Looking at the back side, in the left upper pocket, quite near the top is a small pack of bottles. One of them is made from a glass of bluish tint. That's the liquid that glues wounds shut. Please bring that, and a roll of clean cloth that you'll find below it, in the same pocket. Discard the two outer layers of the roll. Do you have boiled and cooled water?"

Beren confirmed that there was water, and found the bottle quickly. She asked Curufin to pull the blade by yet another inch. It was less painful and she felt less bleeding. For a few more minutes, Luthien retreated to her inner world, telling her blood vessels to relax and heart to calm, for clotting to become hyperactive near the wound, and dissolution of clots to occur elsewhere. Imagining herself as going along the bloodflow, she felt an obstacle. The blood vessel was partially cut and obstructed. The blade however was withdrawn from it.

"I think it's safe to pull it out. When Curufin pulls the blade, I want you to immediately flush the wound with water first, then wipe it dry, pour the glue on it, and apply about three layers of fabric."

They did so, and the glue worked, stopping blood instantly and sticking to moist skin. It was a special mixture from the sap of a herb and a mineral that preserved its potency. She felt relief. She wouldn't have full use of her right hand for a week, maybe even two, but this was not severe.

"Thank you. Please tell me, did I hurt your brother badly? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You hurt him somewhat, but didn't endanger his life. He overstepped the bounds. If a person pulls a dagger, they should be glad to have mere cups thrown at them. You are exhausted however, I can see and feel that. Help yourself foremost for now, and when you heal, that will help others."

She nodded and didn't speak more, thinking of what could be done. Nothing more came to her mind. Luthien asked Beren to watch over her. "If I should start rolling in my sleep, please awaken me, or I'll hurt myself." He promised to do that, repacked their supplies and sat at Luthien's side, watching her. She slept calmly and he felt a wish to gently touch her hand, but didn't want to disturb. Morning was not far away.


When Curufin rode back to his side, he asked "Did you see Huan?"

"No. I did a circle, whistling and calling him regularly."

"I think he's gone home and we should follow. No point looking for that wolf in such condition, without a dog. On a positive note, I can now infiltrate packs of goblins and only my height will draw suspicion. I can explain that with being a mutant."

With all the bandages Curufin had applied to his forehead, Celegorm's claim looked only somewhat exaggerated. "Do you know, will they go forward?", he asked.

"Yes. I spoke with Beren and he said they would try."

"Then, that was the last we saw of them," he said and paused. "I wish this would have gone differently. I kind of liked her."

"I wish that too... and you have work that awaits you, brother. Work involving your self-control. Better late than never... and perhaps we should have picked water. You don't throw daggers at people you "kind of like"."

"Well, I threw it at Beren, because I didn't want him to draw a sword... but yes, I understand I shouldn't have. I still think anything should be done to stop them... but let's not return there. They are free people and under no obligation indeed. It was wrong of me to get agitated and to draw a blade."

"And to throw it without stopping to think."

He wanted to say something, but understood what rationalizing deeds after facts tended to accomplish.

"And that."

Celegorm was still trying to piece together that night. Elvish memory was perfect even after a concussion, but he couldn't reconstruct his feelings. Something in the words Beren had said, or in the manner of saying them, had incredibly angered him. While he now understood it was wrong, then he hadn't.

Some of it had to do with wine... some with words... and some with who Beren was (an elf of forty years would be considered a child). He knew humans lived incredibly fast, considered adult by the time elves were no longer toddlers... even orcs had longer lifespans, though the orcish way of life often excluded using those.

It was something else than age... something he couldn't point at. Or perhaps he could. Perhaps it was envy. Perhaps it was the question of why Luthien of Doriath, who doubtless had made an impression on many men (although few would dare to come forth with their feelings)... had accidentally chosen the barely literate son of a defeated minor chieftain from a region overrun by the enemy. And a human. He could accompany her for fifty years at most... how she planned to spend the rest of her millennia, was a prudent question to ask. Even if she survived his passing and didn't fade away, how many of those years would she grieve?

Perhaps it was envy mixed with reason. To try stopping Beren and Luthien from going, was entirely rational. But doing that like he had, was wrong and inexcusable. Why had he done yesterday what had no excuse today?


She tried and felt defeat. The shoulder simply hurt too much. Muscles and ligaments had been torn.

"I cannot lift my backpack."

Beren went though alternatives in his mind, He'd already loaded a third of Luthien's pack into his own. It would get lighter as days went by, but... they couldn't make the trip without supplies.

"What worries me even more, is whether I can cross rivers with rope. I can wield a dagger with my left hand easily, but a bow requires two hands. I've become a burden who can't carry her weight."

She was right, and their plan was coming loose at seams. Forest would become thicker from here forward, until eventually soil turned sandy and climate cool enough for pines. In fact, forest would become literal thickets pretty soon. Thickets were places that elves crossed with relative ease, but humans didn't.

Beren had learned a fair amount of how to plan his steps, but Luthien easily exceeded that. With Luthien injured and only able to look after herself, Beren with an oversized backpack would struggle against obstacles like a drunk dwarf on a starless night.

She suggested that he lend her the shoulder-piece of his armor. Plate metal would distribute the weight. Underneath the armor, multiple layers of soft cloth could be placed. Beren was holding the backpack and Luthien trying to fit it onto her shoulders without hurting herself, when someone suddenly said.

"Don't worry. I can carry it easily. In fact, I can carry both of them easier than only one."

Beren felt like his abiliy of speech had left him and fled to Huan. Luthien was a bit more used to speaking animals.

"But, should you not go home to Nargothrond?"

"I shouldn't. I don't know what my purpose in this strange world is, but it definitely isn't hunting others. Yes, I am very good at hunting, I can sense other animals from great distance and even the fiercest predators are merely my equals, but I have... gone astray. I was not supposed to come here. Loyalty to my master compelled me to come, but he is not the same person that he used to be, when he and Orome were friends. That pains me. I have tried offering him comfort and friendship, and sometimes he accepts it, but he doesn't change. Or perhaps he does, but not for the better. When I saw what happened, I understood that time had come to choose. I want to travel with you and help you travel safer. Please accept my help. But please know also, that I cannot speak many times in my life. It was foretold that I can speak three times, and should do so only if need is great."