Oropher took Taranir's words to heart and he often left Celeborn's room to have more sun. Small place that was behind the infirmary couldn't be really taken for a garden or a woodlet, but the grass rose all around and there were few tall trees growing close to each other. Oropher often chose to take his rest beside them.

As he sat near them and enjoyed their quiet presence, Oropher not once wondered if he should reach out to hear what they wanted to tell him. Because he felt that they wanted to, no matter how hard they tried to prevent themselves from showing it. The trees didn't want to bother him sensing his low mood and tiredness, but there was something they waned to say. Oropher suspected what it might be, what else they would want to tell him? But he didn't want to know any more of what happened to their soldiers, all the more he didn't want to see it in vision that the trees will grant him.

The next stage of grief came faster than Oropher wanted and it would be probably the hardest one. And it will probably never end as his memories will always be beside him. And so, fond memories started to spill, almost racing each other which one should be recalled first. All of it was completly unwanted, but Oropher couldn't really find anything other to think about right now.

When Arvellon was a kid he had amizingly huge collection of wooden weapons. And he either did them by himself or Galadhon helped him, which was still amazing that such a small kid was able to do such items. Arvellon always tried to pry away everyone from their duties so he had someone tospar with and sometimes he managed to get Oropher into this. Very often Oropher even allowed his younger cousin to win which was always vehemly commented by Galathil that it was now little Arvellon leading Wolverine Banner. Oropher couldn't even count how many bands of Wolverine he had granted Arvellon.

Seeing Arvellon as a kid, training with his wooden swords and bows, his first lessons in archery with real bows and arrows, how Oropher used to pick him up to place in front of himself on a horse, walking him over to his classed even when Oropher had not time for that, baking cupkaes, having strawberry and blueberry desserts. His first successes as a soldier, how he completed basic training as one of the best recruits, his first promotion and happiness during the ceremony, his pride when he became a leader of his division. All of this not once forced tears from Oropher's eyes again and he couldn't prevent this.

It was most often Taranir and Alagos who came to visit him, one time Faron found a hedgehog and brought it to show him. And the small animal was not scared at all that it was held in Faron's hands, neither it was scared when Oropher nudged it delicately. Saida was preparing him various meals from whatever she could find in the kitchens and she had countless ideas what to do. In her home it was always her preparing meals as neither her father or mother had a finease with it and she took it on her shoulders to make them wonderful meals. And she enjoyed cooking, as she was always saying it was relaxing for her, and she made good use of the food in the Tower's kitchen.

Nelledir made a strange wreath from cooper reeds and river flowers and he stated that the Valar will grant Oropher strenght through it, that Ulmo will see and grace him with soothing song. Oropher was not sure about this, but he didn't object when Nelledir hunged the wreath on one tree. Orthon was most often visiting him with someone else. Oropher knew it's not because he didn't care, but he didn't know what else he could do since others already did what they could. Orthon was rather watching over so no one will disrupt his peace.

His young soldiers didn't come to visit him. Oropher didn't know if it was because they didn't want to or rather they weren't allowed to, but the more he thought about it the more confident he became that it was better this way. They didn't have to see him in such state and truth be told, they shouldn't. His young soldiers should always have in mind that Oropher was strong no matter what was happening, though probably even they knew it was not a truth.

Only after a good while of thinking about them, Oropher realised that Amrun, Halloth and Tinnu had many friends among Bressil's team. They probably knew every one of those elves by name, with some they were in friendship, including Arvellon and Aglaron...and at such age they had to face such terrible losses.

One time when Alagos came to visit him, and together they enjoyed a sunny morning, Oropher looked up at his friend finally deciding to ask him about what he was thinking.

'Tell me...Halloth, Amrun and Tinnu, how are they?' he asked and Alagos opened his eyes to look at him.

'Not well to be honest. They are burdened by what happened and the atmosphere in the Tower is not making it any better for them.' Alagos sighted. 'But with our support they are getting through it.'

Oropher looked away, watching tall grass moving with soft wind that springed up a moment ago. Leaves high in the trees shook with usual beautiful music and it eased Oropher a bit.

'Only not long ago I realised that many of those who died were their friends.' Oropher said quietly. 'I don't think they should be...seeing all of this.'

'Yes...many of those soldiers were their friends. And what happened to them weights terribly on our young soldiers.' Alagos admitted quietly. 'They try to convience us that they are alright, but they are not doing well in hiding their sorrow. They wanted to help, to honour their friends by taking care of their bodies...but it proved to be too much for them.' Alagos sighted and his voice dropped a bit lower. 'Now they are helping with packing equipment, assisting healers. They are not yet fine, but they will be.'

Oropher nodded, truly expecting no other answer. It was first time for them to see a terrible sight of lost battle and bodies of elves who lost their lives. And those had to be the bodies of their friends which they had to bring from the field of battle. Oropher shook his head as he realised that it must have been a terrible, overwhelming experience for them to ride into the clearing to see what they did. Oropher could only hope that this experience won't be too traumatizing for them.

'Don't get me wrong...but we don't think it will be good for them to see you like this. It won't be good for any of you.'

'I know. It's not what they need right now.' Oropher said quietly. He didn't mind that his soldiers kept them away. 'Try to help them get through it. Once in Menegroth, they should spend time with their families.'

Many may not remember about this, but since the beginning Halloth, Tinnu and Amrun didn't have a light life. When Amrun and Tinnu were but kids they were found by Oropher's division in the forest, hiding inside a huge tree. They were small enough that they didn't know what happened to them nor how they ended up there, and they were stressed enough that they almost couldn't speak. But upon investigating tracks, it was revealed that those were wargs running after them – after them and probably after their father.

He probably hid his children and went forth alone attracting wargs to himself. They found no body, but it was not hard to guess what happened to him. When asked, neither Amrun or Tinnu were able to say what happened, they didn't know where they came from and they couldn't tell what happened to their parents. Among this, it was a blessing that at least they remembered their own names.

Halloth, on he other hand, had already experienced loss and death though he may not remember it. In earlier times, when wargs and yrch were spotted in Doriath much more often, it was dangerous enough in the settlements that soldiers of Doriath stationed in each of them on daily basis. But even then, sometimes a pogrom could not be prevented. And Halloth was a lone survivor of such slaughter.

Oropher felt that Alagos sat closer to him, embracing him in a moment and Oropher leaned head on his arm, closing eyes. He suspected that this familiar closeness won't ever change between them and they will always remember how it felt like to be so close together.

'I feel there is something you want to tell me.' Oropher said quietly, feeling that there was indeed something, but in this situation he won't force Alagos to tell him anything if he will decide not to. Right now, the less he knew the better for him.

Alagos was silent for a momet as if he dediced upon what he should tell and what should be left unsaid. Maybe there were even things Alagos couldn't tell him.

'I think you should know...Rivalt came by and he wanted to visit you.' Alagos said, trying to keep his voice indifferent, but Oropher suspected what he thought about it. 'He was not stubbornly convincing, but we didn't let him. Do you...want to see him?'

Oropher sighted delicately, not knowing if it was the only thing Alagos wanted to say, but it didn't matter now. This one thing was enough and Oropher used to think that he made himself clear enough before that he didn't want to see Rivalt no matter what will ever happen. But Rivalt seemed to be closed at anything Oropher was saying to him. Though, if he still loved Oropher as he had said before he could be hardly balmed for his tries. And no wonder that he wanted to support Oropher in hard situation which he now faced.

'No, I don't want to see him.' Oropher said, adamant in decision he took long ago. He wouldn't even know what he should speak about with Rivalt once he would have been here. He wished that Rivalt would finally let go of him. 'Try to not get in a fight with him, we have enough problems.'

'I won't, don't worry. And he is not provoking one.' Alagos answered and rised his head to see a golden oriole that landed somewhere high on a tree.

'I don't know what he wants from me.' Oropher said then and he sighted deeply. Sudden feeling of helplessness concerning Rivalt creeped forward, much stronger then it should be, but in his state it gained power and attention. 'That one day when he visited me in the office...he said that he still loves me. That our feeling never ended on his part.'

'Don't worry yourself with him. Don't even think about him.' Alagos said as he embraced Oropher a bit tighter and kissed his head. 'He is the last thing that should keep you concerned. You made clear to him that your relationship is over and that you don't want to see him. He should respect that, no matter what he wants and what he feels towards you.'

'Maybe he was right before to be so angry with me. Maybe you and I shouldn't have behaved as we did and he had a right to not accept it-'

'Don't look back into such memories.' Alagos said. 'If we should or shouldn't have done something doesn't matter now. Rivalt is a past for you, still a bit painful, but he was the one who betrayed you. You never did that, don't forget it. And don't think about blaming yourself for anything that happened between you.'

Oropher chose to not answer. He desperately tried to not think about Arvellon, but his mind didn't make it easier by forcing him to think through times he spend with Rivalt. Each new thing and memory that appeared in his mind seemed almost as bad as thoughts about Arvellon.

They didn't have a lot of time to spend together with Alagos. Soon Taranir appeared and finally, after days and nights that passed for Oropher almost all the same, his friend told them that Mablung gave the order to get ready for their ride back to Menegroth.

All the fallen who were taken back from the battlefield were already placed on the wagons. Since the bodies were layed next to each other there were much more of them then it was previously planned, but heavy draft horses were able to pull even two of those wagons at the same time. Their ride back will be slow, but they will get to the city in their time, without a hurry.

Taranir and Alagos left his side to make sure that everything was prepared. One of the last things that had to be done was getting the wounded on the wagons. Those who will have to lie down will lie down, those who can sit will have wagons arranged with blankets and soft rugs. Oropher stayed behind to see them take Celeborn and he waited outside of the room to not get in the way. A wagon was waiting in front of the infirmary and Oropher followed the elves, waching them putting Celeborn on the cart.

Before Oropher went to prepare his own horse he came back for his armor and put it back on himself. Only then he left the building for good with a purpose to go to the stable. He couldn't hold back though and he had to check again if everything was alright with Celeborn. His cousin was laying in a wagon, on soft rugs and covered with blanket, just as Oropher left him not long ago. And, as expected, he was sleeping, so Oropher left him to prepare himself and his horse for the ride ahead.

Soldiers around were preparing for the move out. Egnaspen was ready with his division, Celeblas was as always first in line to move out. Mablung's soldiers were making sure that everything was neatly prepared and that they had everything they needed. They will be probably the last ones to prepare themselves for leave.

Aenor's division was slowly getting themselves ready. They lead their horses outside, checked bags binded to saddles, repacked their equipment. But they were ill at ease as well, quiet, with sorrow mirroring in their eyes. No wonder that they felt that way – they were all very close with soldiers of Ciryion's division and sometimes they were even counted as one. That's how well they worked together.

Then Oropher noticed Aenor, his lifelong rival, near the one entrance to the infirmary. He was sitting on his brown stallion that was always known for being fiery, but in this situation even the horse knew to behave itself. Only after a moment Oropher understood what was happening and why Aenor had such specific look on his face. They brought up covered body of Ciryion from the infirmary and Oropher almost immediately turned his eyes away. So, he didn't manage to survive and Aenor lost his dear friend.

Yet another tragedy. Ciryion didn't managem Aenor lost his dear friend and Oropher turned his eyes away to not see this horrifying sadness in someone else. It was enough that he felt it in himself.

All of his soldiers were dismissed to prepare their horses. They were walking around, gathering equipment and saddling their steeds. They were all quiet, not speaking at all and only soft neighting of horses was ensuring that something was happening in there.

Halloth noticed him coming in as he was the closest to the entrance. His horse was still cropping on grass while Halloth was grooming it, but he stopped in doing this to turn and look at Oropher.

'Boss?' Halloth just asked and this simple word meant almost everything. If he was alright, if he needed anything, if he needed a good word. There was a bit of uncertainity on Halloth's face that showed off in his voice.

'I'm alright, Halloth.' he said quietly, though surely a bit ruffled hair and bags under his eyes told a different story.

He passed by Halloth and few other of his soldiers before he approached his own horse. Near him was Alagos, who was preparing his own steed, and he smiled delicately to Oropher. He tried to return it, but he probably failed at it.

'Ciryion didn't manage.' he said quietly as he slowly started grooming his horse and checking if it wasn't all too dirty.

'I heard. It happened...not long ago.' Alagos said as quietly, then after a moment of silence he added few more words. 'Peace to his spirit.'

Oropher swallowed hard focusing on combing through Huro's mane. If he will have to say the same words about Celeborn then he won't manage to get through it.

He shook his head, slicing those thoughts in half. That such a thing even crossed his mind. Celeborn will be alright, everyone was saying that he will stand up from his injuries and in time there will be no sign after them. Celeborn will be alright – he needed to repeat this to himself everytime he could.

Alagos brought a saddle for him and in this moment it seemed more heavy than Oropher cared to remember and it was never so hard before to rise it up high enough so it will get smoothly on horse's back. He wasn't struggling terribly, but Alagos decided to help him. In any other situation Oropher would have said to leave him and let him struggle, but right now he knew it was not sudden weakness that held on to him. His grief was making him weak like this and Oropher finally understood how it felt like to loose his vitality and strenght despite that he had no wounds. Grief could be as dangerous as injuries and more then often it was harder to heal from it.

There was one more thing about which Oropher almost forgot, but Alagos brought it and held it in both hands, waiting for him to take it. Oropher stared now at Arvellon's sword, feeling his heart sinking to the ground, remembering terrifying moment when he rised this blade from the mud on the clearing. Now it was all cleaned and polished, just as it should be and how Arvellon always kept it.

Oropher turned his eyes away. In this sudden moment he couldn't even look at it and all the more he didn't want to touch it fearing that the handle of the sword will be cold and unforgiving, strangely foreign – nothing what Arvellon was to him.

Alagos didn't force it and he retreated taking the sword away, probably to bind it to his own saddle. And just then Oropher felt terrible regret, that he shouldn't turn his back on something that was so valuable to him, and he stopped Alagos before his friend fully turned away.

'Wait!' he called, though not very loudly and as expected Alagos hold himself, turning back to Oropher.

He walked closer to Alagos and took the weapon that was once more offered to him. It was not as heavy with guilt as he expected, neither it was cold. It lied in Oropher's hands as any other weapon would do. But it was no ordinary weapon. Not to him.

Oropher brought the sword closer for a moment before he binded it to the saddle. When it finally rested there Oropher discovered that he felt at peace that the sword was beside him, just as it should be.

When they were ready, his soldiers started to lead their horses out and Oropher followed them. He was glad that Huro was in shape since he remembered someone telling him that his horse cought a cold probably after the time they spend in the rain and overstraining didn't help in preventing it. But right now his steed seemed to be in good health, though surely not in perfect condition.

They stopped on the courtyard where all the wagons were placed one after another and draft horses were waiting patiently when they will be bid to move. Egnaspen and Celeblas took the lead with their divisions, Mablung's soldiers will probably watch their rear and soldiers of Oropher and Aenor will have their places on the side of their caravans though without their leaders – Oropher will ride close to the wagon where Celeborn was, while Aenor couldn't be expected right now to take up any position.

His older soldiers jumped on their horses with usual ease, but Halloth, Tinnu and Amrun scrabled on them a bit ungracefully. Giving all the stress, sorrow and terrible fear they couldn't be blamed for being at their lowest with little strenght. And in this moment Oropher feared that he won't manage to get on his own horse. What once came to him as naturally as breathing, now seemed a serious obstacle. As he looked all over his horse he realised that Huro was tall and Oropher didn't believe in his own strenght enough to think that he will manage to mount his horse from the ground.

Oropher sighted deeply, swallowing down his own powerlessness. He reached out to grab the saddle and help himself get on the horse, but he quickly let go of it, feeling that it won't work not matter how hard he will try. So instead he looked around to find something that could help him climb on Huro and only a solid wheel of a wagon was close enough to be used by him. Oropher bid his horse to move closer to the wagon, then he climbed on a wheel and finally managed to sit on his horse's back. He caressed Huro's neck soothingly to calm him and show that everything was fine, though he was sure the horse felt that it was not. Then he looked up to see how long it will take to open the Gates.

Mablung was talking with Delgaran on side, while his soldiers were delegated to prepare their horses and one after another they appeared on the courtyard with each passing moment bringing closer the time when they will start their ride to Menegroth. Aenor's division was all ready as well, some of them took places at the beginning of their caravan, but Oropher will hold on closer to the end as the wagon with Celeborn was in the second end of it.

Then Oropher realised that Taranir was looking at him and in a moment his friend was beside him, so their horses stood shoulder to shoulder.

'Tell me if this ride will be too much for you. I don't want you to strain yourself.' he said. 'We can even stay behind if it will be necessary.'

'It's alright. I won't slow you down.' Oropher said back immediately. 'We all should be home as soon as it's possible, you and our soldiers deserve rest as well.'

He felt he was nudged in arm, quite powerfully, he had to admit, so he looked up to look at his friend.

'Listen to me now. Carefully.' Taranir said, not angered, but his voice was stern enough. 'You keep saying that a soldier should take care of himself before he will be able to take care about others, so take your own words to heart now. And stop thinking about us, because we are not the ones in such state that we can't mount our own horse.' he glanced all over Oropher. 'You are still at your lowest and I don't want you to get even worse nor I want you to faint somewhere along the way, so mind this and tell me if something will be wrong.'

Oropher finally submitted to Taranir's will and nodded at his friend's words. There was no point in arguing with Taranir when he was this determined, neither Oropher wanted to argue with him, because he knew that his friend was right in everything he just said.

A loud whistle gave a signal to wrap up and open the gate. Soldiers on the lead bid their horses to move, others minded the draft horses and kept their vigil if any of the wagons wouldn't move. Slowly, their caravan started to move towards Megroth, their final destination.

His soldiers scattered around the caravan, closer to the middle. Taranir looked one last time at Oropher and he knew that Taranir was expecting a final confirmation to their deal, so he nodded again, giving his word that he will seek Taranir if anything will be wrong. And with this, Taranir went off to take his position as well, while Oropher found a wagon with Celeborn and bid his horse to walk close to it.

With one last look at the Tower, he noticed that few soldiers still stayed behind. Mablung was still talking with Delgaran, and his few soldiers were waiting for him to be done, so all of them could catch up to the main group together. Oropher noticed that Orthon stayed behind as well, obviously to say goodbyes to his father, only to come back to Menegroth with his uncle.

Oropher focused on the road ahead, briefly looking around at the forest. Weather was perfect for travel – sun was casting warm beams on the land, but often it was covered by clouds, so it was not all too warm. Nothing indicated that a rain will come or that a sudden wind will spring up. They chose a good day to begin their journey and Oropher wondered if the weather will be the same when they will reach Menegroth. It would fit more for them to come back in heavy rain, when the sky was dark. It would suit their moods far more.

He just entered another road that most likely will lead him to more sorrow. Oropher realised that soon enough his grief won't be only his own. Faster than he will want to he will have to stand in front of his family and tell them what had happened.

A lone thought of it felt like a spear going right through him. Not long ago he couldn't look at Aenor to see his grief after loss of his dear friend Cirion. How he will be able to look at his own family and see their hearts sink in the same grief?

Edwethon will hate him, curse him, this time once and for all. Oropher encouraged Arvellon to join the army, he encouraged his cousin to follow his dream against Edwethon's wishes. So many times Oropher ensured his uncle and aunt that Arvellon was ready for his duty, that he was a formidable soldier able to lead his own division and fullfil orders of his direct commanders. He was ready, Oropher knew it with all of himself and told it to others to make them at ease so they could let go of Arvellon and let him grow.

He let go of Arvellon...and now his cousin was gone. Edwethon will never forgive him. Arradis as well.

Oropher didn't want to go back to Menegroth. How he will be able to call this place home again when he won't ever see Arvellon out there ever again? How he will go on with his work and duty on the fields seeing Arvellon's shadow all around the place? Every single piece, every place in this city will remind him of Arvellon. He didn't want to live through it.

As those thoughts rose up, pain in his chest intensified horribly so his breath left his lungs in a hiss. At the same time he tried to control his throat that started to tighten as well as his cursed mind was showing him vivid images of what will happen ahead – his broken family and again memories of Arvellon.

He looked to the side at Celeborn as if it could help him anyhow. His older cousin was still in deep sleep, healing as he should be. It was for the better that Celeborn was not aware of what happened to Arvellon – he may have not healed if he had fallen in such grief as Oropher did.

A call to first stop was more to check on the wounded than for the soldiers or horses. Healers wrapped up their equipment and got to work. In the end, they decided to take every single wounded soldier back to Menegroth, even those gravely wounded, and the healers needed to check on the reguralry.

Soldiers used this occasion to rest for a moment, some found some fruits around the forest to pick up and eat. Oropher was not hungry at the moment, but he decided to get down from his horse which was harder then usual, just as jumping on it. But it went better than expected, only when his feet touched the ground Oropher had to hold on harder to a saddle, but he stood on his own legs.

He couldn't go on like this. How he will show himself before his family all broken, with dark shadows on face and eyes full of grief? He had time to cope with his sorrow, now it was time for him to come back to his old self, so he will stand before his family as strong as he used to be and it will be him to support them in the tragedy that befall on them. He will be there for them in those first days of terrible grief.

They didn't have a lot of time to rest as healers were very efficinent with their work. In no time all of them were already on horses, renewing their march. Once more Oropher had to help himself with the wheel to jump on his horse, but when he already sat on his horse's back he promised himself that from this moment onward he will force himself to heal. He had to do so, if he won't then this grief will last forever.

During nights Oropher tried to sleep, but he was often waking up and it left him tired in the morning when it was their time to continue a ride. His soldiers minded to not wake him up before it was neccesary – they prepared his horse for him and always made sure that he ate something. They cared like this for Amrun, Tinnu and Halloth as well, and it warmed Oropher's heart.

When he couldn't sleep he layed on the ground, hearing fire scorching somewhere around, though it was far enough that its light didn't dim down the stars and he could stare up into the night sky. At those times, most soldiers were asleep, few of them were keeping guard and talking quietly to not disturb the rest. But soldiers were restless anyway and many of them moved in their sleep, not at peace with their minds.

Oropher kept the wreath that Nelledir did for him and he always placed it near himself when he was sleeping. It was hard to believe for him that any Valar would care to see what any of them was going through, let alone helping them in any way, but Nelledir seemed confident that Ulmo will ease their spirits and he will help Oropher get through his grief. As for now, Oropher didn't believe it was working, but he kept the wreath anyway.

With each passing day they were closer to their destination. If he wanted this or not, Oropher started to think of the words...how he should say to his family what had happened. Especially after a dream he had.

He couldn't remember it well, but Edwethon was in it. He was shouting at Oropher things he couldn't recall now, but he could easily imagine what it was. In his dream, Oropher had nowhere to run, all he could do was standing before his uncle and endure his hatred. He feared that what he saw was not a dream, but a vision of the future and his uncle's reaction.

The hardest challenge on the way was crossing Esgalduin. They had to take a longer route where they were sure the shallow waters of the river will allow the wagons to pass. Oropher was a bit glad about it – a moment of arrival to Menegroth was getting longer, even for a bit.

But even at the peaceful point of the river, draft horses had to be lead by hand by soldiers. Only one wagon at the time was getting through to make sure that it won't sink or that any of the wheels won't get stuck somewhere. It made the crossing much longer and Mablung decided to make a final stop near the river before they will finally reach Menegroth. Their last night under the sky. And this last night proved to be the worst one for Oropher as the dream he lived in his sleep was even worse nightmare than facing Edwethon, because it was Arvellon blaming him for his death.

You left me out there!, he kept repeating furiously, with anger that didn't suit Arvellon at all and his eyes were burning in this fury. It was not his kind cousin, Oropher knew it, but in a dream he couldn't possibly comprehend this.

What happened to me?! Tell me! Tell me! , he shouted holding Oropher by arms and shaking powerfully. How can you say you don't know?! How could you come back without me?!

Despite that Oropher closed his eyes tightly he could still see Arvellon. No matter how hard he tried to pull away he couldn't and each more word was a powerful hammer beating him mercilessly to the ground.

Why it was me?! Why it had to be me?!

Oropher woke up immediately and rised up to sit as if someone pulled him up powerfully. He covered his mouth with hand to prevent a sob and groan of pain that formed in his lungs. He realised he never even considered what the nightmare just showed him – that Arvellon blamed him for what happened.

He looked at sleeping soldiers around him and then he scrambled from the ground minding to not disturb them. And as he was free, he made his way towards the river, his eyes were a bit clouded from tears, but it was not a lot of those and only few flew down his cheeks.

He sat on the ground and stared at flowing river. The sound of it was soothing enough and it was what Oropher needed right now.

'I don't know why it was you.' Oropher said quietly to the water and his voice was shaken a bit. He shook his head. 'I am sorry, Arvellon. I am so sorry. Had I known it will end like this...I would do everything...I would give up my own life.'

It was the first time for those days that he actually said something directly to Arvellon, though his cousin was not around to hear it. The water went its own way as it always did and nothing indicated that Arvellon would ever hear his words. Even if he would, it changed nothing.

'Your cousin had to die, so you could finally soften up like this?'

Oropher felt a cold shiver going down his spine, all senses focused when bolt went through him, forcing him to focus on the elf who said those words – words that were malicious, cruel and just wrong. Everything that Lavan was to him. And the worse among this was a fact that Oropher had nothing to tell him back or at least it took him far to long to think of any answer.

Before he could answer there was someone else who entered this one-sided quarell. Rivalt pushed Lavan powerfully, shoving him off his strong stance, but when Lavan faced him back this confidence remained.

'Mablung gave you too long leash? Maybe you want a muzzle to match it?' Rivalt growled out and continued before Lavan said something back. 'Show some respect and walk away. Don't make a scene.'

Lavan stood there for a moment, most likely thinking if it was worth it to start a quarell with Rivalt. And apparently a mention of Mablung was something that made Lavan step down and soon he was gone. Oropher watched him walk away, but then his eyes met up with Rivalt's and he looked away, coming back to staring into the water.

He wished Rivalt will leave him. He couldn't face him right now, he didn't want to listen what Rivalt will tell him. And Oropher noticed that Rivalt was struggling as well – he stayed where he was, not moving at all, probably not even looking on Oropher. And when Rivalt finally made few steps towards Oropher, he stopped almost instantly as if he was fighting himself if he should approach Oropher at all.

Eventually, Rivalt approached him and Oropher closed his eyes for a moment preventing a sight. Then he looked up at the elf that used to be his lover once and Rivalt reached out a hand towards him.

'I will...take you back.' he said most likely having all good intentions, but Oropher wished it was anyone else who had come to him. But now, only Rivalt was here and Oropher actually wanted to go back.

He accepted Rivalt's hand that was reached out towards him. He had no strenght to argue, there was no point in making a scene...it didn't sound not like him. Maybe Lavan was right, maybe it finally took Arvellon to loose his life so he will finally settle down and soften as he should.

When he was up on his legs they walked back to their encampment together, but they walked in silence. Oropher didn't even know what to say to Rivalt, there was nothing left to tell on his part. But he could be sure that Rivalt had much to tell him, though now he knew to not use the situation, something that Lavan didn't acknowledge.

As they were back, Oropher glanced at Rivalt who was watching him in turn.

'Thank you.' he said quietly and Rivalt nodded to him, then he walked away, leaving Oropher near his soldiers.

All of sudden Oropher remembered his thoughts in the office when Rivalt came to see him. Back then he thought that he won't meet Rivalt ever again. How foolish and naive this thought was. It was impossible for them to not see each other, unless Mablung will send his own division back to Falas. Otherwise their paths will always cross.

Oropher didn't look at Rivalt as he walked away. Instead he came back to his place beside his soldiers and lied down, minding to not wake then up. He went to the river in hope that it will ease him down, but it did little to help him, especially after meeting Lavan and then Rivalt. And after his last nightmare he was afraid to go back to sleep. He didn't want to see anything more that his treacherous mind was throwing on him.

He lied closer to Alagos who was sleeping on his right side, then he closed his eyes hoping to at least get in a state of half-sleep. And the morining came faster then expected. Usually Oropher woke up after his soldiers, but since he was not sleeping he got up alongside them. He didn't tell anyone of them of what happened with Lavan, neither he said a word about Rivalt.

After breakfast and quick rest, they were ready to go in no time. Their last stop before Menegroth was over and Oropher slowly got used to this fact, as much as he could be. Even if he was not ready he would have to stand before his family. He had to and there was no other option.

Weather was as sunny and calm as during the day when they started their ride. When walls of Menegroth appeared in between the trees Oropher felt his heart going up his throat. Nevertheless, they were getting closer to the city and there was no way to prevent it anyhow. On their last road forward he noticed that the gate was already opened and awaited their arrival. They must have seen them coming quite long ago.

Who will be there on the courtyard? How many elves will be there to see the devastation and tragedy that befall on them? Will Edwethon be there? Arradis? Did anyone know what truly happened? What did Mablung write in his missive?

Trees at verge of the forest didn't greet them with the same fervour. Instead their branches lied low and swayed from one side to another. The woods were quiet in grief, even birds were not singing around Menegroth.

Overwhelmed by his thoughts, Oropher at first didn't realise that those on the lead already entered the city and first wagons rode inside Menegroth, probably stopping on the wide courtyard. Beside soldiers and healers...who else was there? This single thought couldn't leave Oropher's mind and he had to persuade himself for quite a time before he fastened his horse to cross the bridge and enter to great city.

Strangely, the closer he was getting, the calmer he became. Uncounciously, he bid his horse to trott and he quickly he left behind the wagon where Celeborn was and within long moments, Oropher rode into sandy courtyard and pleasant cool air in the Caves should be like a balsam for anyone who was riding inside. It was not, at least not this day.

Oropher swept his eyes all over the courtyard and he easily sat that there were far less elves on the courtyard than he expected. This could mean only one thing – it was only known what happened to Ciryion's division. No one knew that it was not the only horrible thing that had happened.

With ease Oropher found his family that stood in tall wall's shadow. As many others who were here, their eyes scanned the ranks of soldiers that rode inside, impatiently expecting to see familiar face. There was Galadhon and Galathil, awaiting anything to be said about Celeborn and finally to see him on their own eyes. Behind them, in silent support stood Erthor and Edwethon. Oropher almost turned his eyes away.

They noticed him at once, it couldn't be any different. Oropher swallowed hard and slowed down his horse from trott to walk to lenghten a moment before he will have to stand before his family. His mind was empty, all the words that were there disappeared leaving him utterly unable to form anything.

'You are alright.' Galathil breathed out immediately as Oropher approached them, but his voice was farm from calm. He looked around and when he continued there was only more nervousness heard in him. 'The Banners were lowered down, the Takers arrived and all of you look...horribly tired.' he looked up at Oropher. 'What happened out there?'

For a brief moment when Oropher was silent he heard another horse riding closer and it stopped beside his own. It was a stall dark stallion of Mablung, but even his fierce horse knew it was no place for his moods.

Of course Mablung was beside him at this moment. It was high time to say that the House of Elmo lost the youngest Prince.

'Celeborn is alright. He-he is in the wagon on the back, with my soldiers.' Oropher said, barely knowing himself how he managed to do it so smoothly, but he kept staring down at his saddle, almost stubbornly.

He didn't want to say it. He will do anything, but don't make him say it.

'At last, some good news.' Galadhon breathed out, but then shook his head as he looked around. 'But I see that some didn't come back in good shape. You brought so many wagons with you.'

'This is...' Oropher started and he had to swallow to precisely control his voice and which words he was saying aloud. 'It's not only Ciryion's soldiers we are bringing back.'

At this moment he dismounted and he heard that Mablung did the same. When he was on the ground a sword with red handle appeared on his eye level so he held the blade by the handle and unsheeted it with great care. He brought it close for a moment in such unprofessional manner that it was almost pathetic.

Oropher looked up and first his eyes fell on Galathil who knew immediately that something was terribly unwell. When he glanced at Galadhon there was a moment of shattering glass and with this came a horrible realisation that immediately fell like dark fabric all over them. Galadhon recognised the sword, all of his family recognised it, and his uncle was experienced soldier, he recognised all too well the look on Oropher's face.

When Oropher looked at his father, Erthor immediately knew how unwell he was. His silver eyes were almost dark with worry, sick to even see Oropher like this and there was this silent question what was wrong.

All of it lasted less then a moment and when he finally looked at Edwethon he couldn't force words out of his throat.

'Uncle, I-'

I don't even know how to say this out loud. To this day I don't even know how to tell this to myself. I am so sorry that it had to happen. I am so sorry I couldn't do anything to prevent it. I am so sorry I couldn't bring him home. I tried to, I searched for him. But in vain. Had I known it will end like this I would never allow Arvellon to join the army, I wouldn't have touched the sword myself. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me. At least I hope that you won't disown me in hate and wrath, though I deserve your hatred and I won't blame you for it. But Arvellon is gone and I have to tell you about this. Arvellon is painfully gone and it took a part of my soul. I bring you his sword. Take it, he received it from you one day, remember? He praised it above all else. He saw your pride in this sword and by giving him this blade you showed him how much you believed in him.

None of it could pass his thoat. Without words he held the sword in both hands and offered it to Edwethon, who stared at him confused and lost. Through all of it moment after moment oassed by and soon there was sorrow and choking grief scorching insides and spirit, frozed blood and teared away heart and sould with everything it could.

Oropher stared at his uncle easily recognizing a moment when Edwethon realised that his son was dead.

'A large group of heavy armed forces passed through the woods. Arvellon's team met them head on.' Mablung said quietly. 'None of them survived.'

First came denial, then desperation and weakness. All of it was vocered by a shroud of death. Oropher saw all of this at once in Edwethon when Erthor cought him in tight embrace himself staring helplessly in the air ahead. At the same time Oropher pushed the sword into Mablung's hands and he turned away not able to watch further Edwethon's despair. Tears started to fall again down his cheeks and he tried to do everything to prevent them or at least dry them away, but those kept going and going forcing his arms to shiver if he didn't want to sob.

There, it was over. Part of Edwethon's soul just died with Arvellon. His life will never be the same, none of their lives will ever be the same.

Oropher felt he was stopped and turned around. Terrified face of Galathil came into view and he looked all over Oropher. When he spoke, his voice was barely holding together.

'Tell me you didn't mean it. Tell me it's not real.'

'Galathil, do I look like as if I was not serious?' Oropher asked and his tears blinded him once more. 'Arvellon...he is-, he is gone. I couldn't find him, I couldn't save him.'

Galathil stared at him, his white eyes filling up and Oropher precisely knew what his cousin felt, only more painfully. All of it was fresh cutting through heart and sould. Oropher had more time to tell himself what happened with Arvellon and slowly atarting to acknowledge that he won't see Arvellon again. He tried to dry away Galathil's tears, but it was pointless, so and he tried to smile delicately to him.

'Go back to them, support each other, grieve together, remember Arvellon as he should be remembered.' he kept saying takings tears off Galathil's face with a sleeve. 'I will take care of Celeborn. He is alright and he will be better. I will take care of everything.'

He embraced his cousin, but he finally decided to walk him back to their family instead of leaving him all alone. Galadhon was quietly talking with Mablung on side, Erthor had already taken Edwethon away, but as soon as Oropher was back with Galathil, Galadhon turned attention to his son. And as soon as Galathil was taken care of, Oropher walked away.

He went closer to the wagon that was escorted by his soldiers. They just entered the courtyard and some soldiers with assistants waited to take up Celeborn to infirmary. Oropher stood there, overseeing it, but he was not there at the same time. In his mind he lived over and over a moment that happened not long ago.

His soldiers knew well enough to not ask, to not tire him with questions. How was he? Well, he wasn't feeling anyhow. Beside void and wish that he could stop existing. But the memory of Edwethon couldn't leave his mind.

Oropher followed healers and soldiers to the infirmary and watched Celeborn being taken care of. They layed him in clean bed, took off his bandages, washed his wounds and applied new medications. All that should be done, which Oropher couldn't tell about himself.

When they were done, Oropher moved on. His next step was his own office and he passed by corridors, known paths almost blindly. He didn't realize himself when he reached the place he was so used to.

The Banners on the fields were lowered down almost to the ground. Doriath lost its soldiers this day. And the Kingdom lost its Prince. Everyone grieved.

When he got to his office, Oropher pushed the door close after himself and almost blindly he grabbed a bottle of liquor that stood on the verge of the commode. As soon as he opened it he took a huge haust without a second thought and without guilt.

The moment he feared, and wanted to prolong for so long, was now behind him. It had been worse than he even imagined. He behaved worse than he wanted it. It was not the first time when he had to pass on griving news of someone's passing, but he would have never dared to imagine that he would have to say it to his own uncle. And words stuck in his throat, leaving Edwethon to his own thoughts and he forced Mablung to say what he should have said. Everything went wrong. And Galathil among this, with fearful denial and breaking voice was like another hammer squashing him into the ground and yet another crack in frozen heart.

He sat behind the desk and didn't really look around, but he stared down on the wooden floor. All too well he remembered time when Arvellon used to stand in front of his desk, holding his twin swords. His cousin wanted to learn how to wield dual blades and Oropher promised he will train him. Now Oropher won't ever have such chance.

He was not blessed to be alone for long. He barely drunk few hausts of liquor when there was someone at his door. But it was none of his family, nor Mablung, not even one of his soldiers, but the elf he expected the least. It was Aenor who walked inside and his eyes were burning with strange but powerful determination.

Oropher glanced over him indiffrently, then he chose to come back to staring at the floor instead of snapping something vicious at the elf he didn't like so much.

'What do you want?' Oropher asked finally with hoarse voice as the strong alcohol almost burned his throat. But at least it helped in speaking as the bump in his throat appeared again when all the memories came to him at once.

Aenor was quiet for a moment when he was crossing the office to come closer to the desk, but Oropher felt his eyes on himself. Truth be told, he didn't know what to expect from Aenor and if he should prepare for a fight. He didn't have strenght for it and the rage that was gathering in him waited to be released. Oropher just had to find an elf to bring it upon.

'Mablung forbade to tell you about this right now, even your soldiers were given such an order.' Aenor said and determination reached his voice. 'But situation...changed and this is something I want to share with you.'

'Then tell me.' Oropher said, though truly he wished he would be left alone. But soon he will see that the thing Aenor wanted tell him will be something that will keep him going for all the centuries to come.

'The group that passed through Doriath was lead by no ordinary orc.' Aenor said as he approached closer and placed before Oropher a piece of material with simple drawing on it. Oropher took a look at it and then put a bottle at the desk, staring intentely at the piece of material. 'It was Ashgarn, The Flame of War.'

That explained everything that remained unclear to Oropher. Ashgarn was a thorn in Doriath's side, a nightmare of a war that ended long ago that was still floating above them like neveranding darkness and agony. Until now he kept quiet and low, probably everyone silently hoped that he mouldered somewhere and his ashes were scattered around the land, never to return.

'One of the leading commanders of His army.' Oropher said as he stared at the symbol by which the ranks of Ashgarn could be recognised – the black crown with a single red dot in the middle.

'He is gathering forces. Not against us, but against the Golodhrim.' Aenor said. 'Ashgarn took a route through Doriath to get faster from the eastern to western side of the land, the tracks lead onwards to the land of Lammoth.' he continued. 'He lead his soldiers through our forests calmly and without a single rustle, probably wishing to get through undetected. And the Enemy granted them powerful spells so it will come to pass, even trees were lead astray. Clearly, even Melian was.'

As Oropher suspected before, strong magic was binded to all that had happened. And as he remembered the path of dead trees in the forest of Neldoreth, it could be easily stated that it was black magic – foul and very powerful.

Finally he teared eyes away from the material on the desk and looked at Aenor.

'But they were not fully invisible.' he stated, knowing that it was easier to delude the trees then elves as they looked over the world from different perspective. Trees looked into the land rather than over it and they sensed wathever was happening through the roots, long branches and powerful spirit that could acculumate deep in the ground, while the elves could see the vision of the world all around them. It was almost impossible to lead them astray.

'No, they were not.' Aenor said and then continued. 'First they met Bressil's team head on, in the far eastern side, but this fight was probably judged before it even started. Ashgarn lead much more soldiers than Bressil and those were no whelps in his ranks, but powerful yrch, veterans of many battles and well trained wargs.'

'The Enemy wouldn't have cared to grant his magic to any whelp.' Oropher said and he took another sip of alcohol, then he put the bottle back on the desk. 'And Ashagarn is very well known for his strategical thinking, his soldiers as well and they don't mindlessly run for a fight.'

'That's why they decided to go through Doriath. They truly believed they will go through unperturbed. Obviously, they didn't manage and upon meeting our soldiers they proceed to attack.' Aenor said. 'After finished battle they knew they had to leave Doriath at once. Spells were no longer working so well and it would have been a matter of time before we would have swarmed them with overwhelming force.' Aenor continued without much going into detail. 'With long arch they passed by the Tower, but along the way they met Ciryion's division. They were in a hurry, so they didn't linger long on them, that's why probably most of them survived. They left lone wargs to finish of the wounded while Ashgarn with his warriors left the Girdle in a place where you followed them.' he sighted. 'We found nothing more than that on the Plains. As I said, they moved West, but the tracks were blended in mud.'

Oropher listened patiently and he still stared at the material he had on the table. Known ferocity boiled his blood, such a strangle contrast to what he had been feeling for all those days. And there was fury, burning hatred for the enemy that seemed to come back from the dead and hoovered over them like a living nightmare. Oropher remembered well what they were saying – that Ashgarn was an ancient being, he was always out there, since the beginning against them. Some even said that he was an elf once, one of the Firstborn.

Then all his fury was at the same strangely dimmed down as if a cold water was poured all over him, but at the same time ot was gathering under his skin, even slowly melting the frost that gathered inside him. All because Oropher thought about one single thing. He looked up at Aenor.

'I need to know and don't you dare to lie to me.' he said with stern, grim voice that was almost dark from all his thoughts. 'Were there any signs, tracks...anything indicating that they took prisoners?'

Aenor glanced through him and this was a moment when he was silent. Most likely he was thinking rather how to say than if he should say it at all.

'Yes...there were tracks on the ground showing that there were some who were dragged after the wargs.' Aenor simply said not going into much details. 'Impossible to say how many.'

Oropher closed his eyes, strongly preventing a grimace from entering his face. So it was just as he feared – their soldiers were left on their own in the hands of the enemy. In the hands of Ashgarn. He left Arvellon out there.

'I have friends at the Tower, among the marchwardens and I know elves at the verge of the Girdle. And you have Amdir.' Aenor continued taking Oropher away from his thoughts. 'We will track him down. Celeblas is willing to join, Maltiach as well. My division seeks justice for the fallen, I want revenge.' he looked at Oropher with burning eyes, but this time it was no challange that mirrored in them. 'What do you say?'

Aenor just gave him a purpose to live. Oropher felt his fury burning slowly gathered ice, freeing his spirit from chains of ice. Just give me time and we will come back even stronger, it was saying. Revenge!, his mind called with strong voice, shaking frost off his heart. Avenging Arvellon will be Oropher's power to go on.

'Yes, we will track him down.' Oropher said sternly, almost feeling this buzzling fury inside him. 'That old scum will have to show himself on the plains, one day or another.'

He took material and rised up from his seat, at the same time he reached for his dagger at belt.

'Death for death!' he growled out when he impaled the symbol to the wooden wall of his office. Oropher stared up at it and this promise was sealed in his mind, heart and soul. It won't stop burning until this promise will be fullfied.