Inspired by "The Silmarillion."

"You are all brothers?"

Lathwinn kept her voice light and the slight smile on her lips as she stepped nearer the elf who had stepped nearer to her. Sarnin followed swiftly and then stepped up to her niece's side reaching her hands out to the ellon's face. Her own brown eyes glistened in the soft light of nearby candles. "Your eyes … They are brown instead of grey, like one of my people. If they were not, you would …"

He pulled her hands away. "Look almost exactly like one, who must not be named." He turned and walked away.

Lathwinn perched upon a nearby stool with a rather thick cushion on it, crossing her legs before her, like she had on the bed she had been offered. Her voice remained light unlike the weight in that of the ellon. "And yet, one of you played the music that led us to you." She grinned at the elf in red. The one playing the harp was wrapped in light green-blue light the sea on a bright day. The two with faces so alike wore a much darker blue like the sky in the east right after the sun has disappeared into the west.

The one in red, the tallest among them it seemed, sighed. "You cannot stay here long, but … Your song led to … questions…" He turned to Sarnin gazing back with intense dark-brown eyes again. "He lives … still?"

Sarnin nodded. "He does."

He took a striding step nearer to her before stopping again, still staring into her own eyes and mine with all the eagerness she remembered having once for news of one she loved. The ellon's trembling voice went on even as the nearby music intensified. "He is well?"

Sarnin shrugged. "He is strong?"

She glanced at the other ellon. Lathwinn had already been studying them. Even as he played skillfully, the one on the harp was staring at her as were the two standing side by side against a wall leaving room only for their quivers between them and it. Their own stares seemed softer now.

Lathwinn noticed their eyes were so dark they were almost black. She looked to the one playing the harp. His were light grey, much like Celuant's, but less hard. His hair unlike all the ellon there and her and her aunt's own was pale gold nearing silver. His smaller and smoother-lined nose and mouth, shorter height (she could tell though he), and slighter shoulders gave him a meeker appearance than Celuant or even this elf with brown eyes striding from one side of the room to the other. Still, the harp-player's muscles bulged a bit beneath the silk covering him and said muscles were more apparent in his, exposed neck.

The ellon in red's nose and mouth were larger than the harp-players and had straighter lines making them up. His sharper cheekbones produced a severe air softened by not only his warm brown eyes, but also warm brown hair. His height and broad shoulders though, reinforced the authority he took command of the situation and conversation with though.

"Then, it is even better than we dared hope for him. Of course, if he had perished, perhaps he'd be back in the lands we so foolishly left, be back with our parents by now … But perhaps not, perhaps he'd only still be lingering in the halls …"

Lathwinn looked up her face and gaze still keen and bright. Her smile, however, had fallen away into a thoughtful gaze. "Why did you send him away?"

The striding elf paused turning to her just before he froze. Even the elf playing the harp stopped the briefest of moments before catching himself and continuing. The two near the wall straightened and frowned where they stood. Brown eyes, like those of her own people she thought, stared into Lathwinn's own. His voice was adamant against the continued and further intensified playing of his brother. "We did not. It was Caranthir who insisted …"

Sarnin broke in shaking her head. "I do not understand. Why did he so insist?"

The elf sighed. The one playing the harp bowed his head. He continued plucking and stroking the strings. His music sounded strained though as if his fingers were heavy as he lifted them. The other two elves had dark gazes indeed like one grim person and his reflection side by side rather than facing each other. The elf in red continued. "It was hard, but after it happened the first time, we all felt foolish … The law seemed so … necessary then the evening and days after. And I truly hoped, truly believed, our brother was dead and no longer suffering with our enemy to return to us at a later time."

Sarnin spread her hands and insisted in a more strident voice, she had kept it soft till then, asked … "When 'what' happened the first time?"

The elf in red sighed. The one playing the harp sighed louder, though he played even louder still. It was the one in red, who continued. "When we first welcomed one who'd looked Melkor Morgoth in the eye back into our fort. That elf was a banner-bearer, not a warrior truly. We found the rest of the group he'd been with before he disappeared, well … their remains. We did not find him till days later. He was wandering, seemingly aimlessly, with empty eyes in a sandy, rock-filled area out in the open. Only spatterings of dry blood were on his armor, in his hair, and across his clothing: blood of both orc and elf. He had no injuries of his own we could see. His expression, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, was like that of one stunned. For one such as he to see such slaughter as he must have … it ... seemed understandable. We thought not enough of it."

"He was my friend …" The one playing the harp spoke for the first time in a voice even more melodic than his playing, but his words were a sigh.

The one in red himself gave a sigh without words before continuing. "Yes, he was his friend. They are both those who have feeling that run deep, but bright on the surface like the flashing sea. We had many of them with us when they made the crossing of said sea. Emotions following Melkor's betrayal still ran high then carrying them across with the rest of us. But resolve is also needed: a hiding and conquering of emotions to do what must be done and no more, when dealing with a foe like this … Narkal, I came to see had this … This banner bearer I could see long before these events did not."

He glanced to the harp player with apology, but the elf only nodded looking back with more sorrow than anger. The elf in muted red then turned to the elleth again. "We let him back in, the banner bearer ... Why not? He showed no sign of damage to his limbs, his chest, the rest of his form. It was as if he had been separated from the rest during the battle without true harm somehow, perhaps seeming a not-threatening target and then only wandered away in a daze …"

"Like he 'ran' away," growled one of the elves against the wall. And now the one playing the harp did glare at somebody, him.

The elf in red waved a dismissive hand himself before continuing. "But in that guess we probably did him great disservice. Not long after we found him and brought him back to the fort, it was attacked, the fort. Many orcs surrounded our circular wall. We slew as many on their approach as we had arrows to slay them with." He turned and nodded to his two brothers standing before the wall who nodded back to him, faces almost peaceful. Sarnin merely continued to stare at the main story-teller wide, intent eyes, and other features lack of expression, showing she had no idea why this story was being told and how it answered her earlier question. Lathwinn sat straight her own usually merry face grim. The elf in red continued …

"But still more encircled our fort and we wondered why. What had they to gain from it? Were we not slaughtering them? Was our wall not high and hard? Was our gate not impenetrable?" He stopped and shook his head. "It was from the 'outside.' But, sneaking through the shadows so he went unnoticed by us looking to the enemy without, killing them with spears after running out of arrows, the banner bearer opened the gate for them to enter by."

"The fool didn't know what he was doing …"

Sarnin hands covered her mouth. Underneath her wide, now bright, brown eyes looked to the two against the wall. The one who'd spoken with a glare, but a sad glare, continued … "After doing it, I saw, a light came over his eyes and face. His mouth was open in shock and he stared at his own hands a moment. He actually ran in front of them then ..."

His brother looked up and met Sarnin's questioning gaze. He shrugged. "The mechanisms of the gate are so complicated the short-cut he took to open them cannot be easily reversed once put into motion. He could not stop it going up to let them un, so he just ran into the way of the incoming horde as if he 'could' stop it by doing that …"

"Which he could not," the other finished for himself.

"So he ran into their way," the other interrupted again, "and instead of impeding their flow by doing so, he was crushed by it.

"There was more smear than body to recover of him long afterward."

Sarnin gave a muffled scream under her hands. Lathwinn, who had slumped at the elf's words instead, straightened and looked to her aunt in concern. The one playing the harp finally stopped and slumped himself. He spoke quietly. "He was my friend … I … I know what he did, but I do not believe he meant to do it …"

"The bragging orc spoke as much not long after," one of the dark-eyed twins broke in. "The monster stared at our ruler fangs exposed in a grin, black eyes shining in torchlight, and said he couldn't believe he'd been so eager to eat your friend's flesh when he'd been brought to their lord, and made so docile after panicking like a rabbit before Melkor's gaze until he forgot all he'd seen and all he'd been told to do by him. It worked masterfully, and now they could eat all the elf-flesh they wanted even after trampling that fine morsel into fine dust."

The one no longer playing the harp shuddered at these words. His darker-eyed brother's harsh words ended, and hard features fell and softened at the sight. He almost leaned forward as if to make up for going to far, but his twin continued "The orcs didn't end up carrying out their threat, however. We had lessened their numbers considerably already. We still had the high ground atop our walls, and filled all the hallways leading into our own the fort. We still also had most of our spears, as well all our shields and swords. When we'd slain or forced them out soon after that monster's bragging, Caranthir insisted we give chase to our still living once-invaders and not let a single one escape to get back and report anything to our greatest foe. Afterward, he made a law in the name of every elf we lost in the attack 'inside' our own fort …"

"Save Ortantehta's…" the harp player interrupted.

His darker-eyed brother continued next to his now silent and still twin. "Any of us lost to the sight of all the rest for even one night outside our walls must never enter any fort of the Noldo, again."

Even Lathwinn's eyes widened at this. The twin spoke up from his brother's side as the sight of the elleth's reaction, "Any of 'us,' Noldo whom Melkor hates so much. None among 'us' suspected of being captured or even with such a long absence overnight may enter one of our forts. Sindar without such a suspicion of capture by Melkor's forces are exempt."

The one in red with brown eyes broke in. "It's gotten to the point none of us dare go out alone not simply for fear we 'might' be taken captive, but for fear others will 'suspect' we have been."

"The law has worked," one of the dark twins spoke up again "We've never had a like sabotage to the first from within, but …" Here he faltered and stopped. His face crumbled. His twin's head bowed as his lips pressed hard together. His form tightened even as his brother's seemed lax in shock. Lathwinn's eyes widened at the sight, never had they looked so dissimilar in her sight.

Their brother in red continued for them. "It meant ... the law ... we could not let our brother back into the fort he knew as 'home,' especially after he 'admitted' outside of it, in joy, he had 'escaped' Morgoth's mines, his fortress ... his sight ..."

The harp player looked up. He'd begun playing again before his lost brother was brought up, but so subtly and with such the tense, hurt spirit in the room that no one had noticed till they looked at him as he spoke, "He even admitted Melkor had tried to look him in the eye to overcome his spirit. But he also insisted, he had not given in …" There was a strange, pleading look in those pale eyes that out of everything about him made him most look like the brother he spoke of, and yet not … His eyes were more watery than the elleth had ever seen Celuant's more like water than hard like steel. Even if they were almost exactly or exactly the same shade of grey they seemed more gentle, and more easily broken.

Sarnin spoke to him as she replied. "I believe Celuant's word on those things ..."

The one in red intoned while nodding, "I also believed him … But it made no difference to Caranthir. My brother had been outside our walls and our sight too long, far too long. If he'd escaped before the sabotage, it might have been different, but he came to us after ... He was not welcome ..."

"And you did not leave with him?" Lathwinn asked this sitting up straighter.

He shrugged. "Caranthir would not let us. We were five, valued warriors in a war. Even Romdor," he tilted his head toward the harp player, "is known for blowing the horn well to signal "retreat," and "help," and "attack," and other battle commands, so clearly and with so much passion not only do our own follow them without question on the chaotic battlefield, but our enemies shake in fear on the same at the sound."

"Which especially helps one survive a retreat." One of the dark-eyed twins said this with a rather frightening grin.

Yes, very like Ranthalion … Lathwinn mused.

"Wait," Sarnin blinked as she stared at the elf in red. "Five, I see four here, not five. You would only be five soldiers together 'with' Celuant, a mighty warrior indeed."

"With him we were 'six.'" The one in red insisted. "We are missing another brother now."

What do you think now?

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes