The hall smelled of new timber and fresh rushes. A fire burned cheerfully on the hearth in the center of the long room and torches filled it with ruddy golden light. Young Men were busy setting up the tables for the evening meal. Men who, like Bregon, had been boys when when the surviving Beorians fled Dorthonion six years ago. None of them seemed to recognize Beren though they eyed him and his hooded companion curiously as they passed. A door behind the high table on the dais led to a lamp lit withdrawing room that seemed at first glance to be full of chattering, giggling, young girls. But a second look revealed there were only four of them ranging from a blooming golden haired maiden of fifteen or so to a dark haired little thing with big eyes who reminded Beren of his cousin Morwen as a girl. They had been cutting out clothes on a wide trestle table and were now busily folding the brightly dyed woolens and linens away under the stern eye of a slender young matron with a wealth of dark hair bound low on her graceful neck.

Two small boys huddled under the table absorbed in a game of pebbles and nuts were pulled from their refuge by a tall, fair haired woman. "Out you two and go wash yourselves." she ordered.

"Mother!" Bregon called.

Emeldir straightened abruptly, blue eyes going questioningly to her younger son then flaring wide at the sight of the elder. The great elfstone brooch pinned to the breast of her gown flashed green fire as it rose as fell with her sharply in-taken breath.

Beren swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "Mother."

"Well, my son, better late than never." she said coolly, and stepped forward to place a firm kiss on his cheek, only the fierce grip of her hands on his shoulders betraying the intensity of her emotion.

His arms closed tightly around her and it was several minutes before Beren regained enough self command to let go. "I've brought my wife home, Mama." He managed huskily. Seizing a cold little hand he drew her forward. "This is Luthien."

Thingol's daughter saw an aging Mortal Woman, her golden hair tarnished by grey, with the fierce blue eyes of one of the Eagles of Manwe. A Woman who reminded her in an odd way she couldn't quite pin down of her own mother, Melian of Doriath.

Emeldir stared in astonishment at the beautiful, unmistakably Elven face and saw the apprehension in the deep grey eyes. Elf or no, beauty or no, Luthien was still a new bride meeting her husband's family for the first time - and Emeldir remembered very well what that felt like. "Welcome, Daughter." she said and kissed the soft cheek. Emeldir saw the wonderful eyes fill with tears of gratitude and relief and smiled reassuringly before turning to beckon her other daughter forward. "This is your sister Adanel."

This time Luthien remembered to return the kiss. Her new sister-by-marriage had the same dark hair and grey eyes as young Bregon but for all her height seemed slight, almost frail, next to the sturdier build of her brothers. "And these are Adanel's children." Emeldir continued assembling the two boys and two of the four girls before her. "Idhril and Melethril will remember their Uncle Beren, but I doubt Egnor will. And Beren won't remember Amdir."

"No, but Aunt Bregil (1) told me about him," Beren answered, "we went to Brethil in search of news of you." He turned to his niece, the image of her mother Adanel at fourteen. "Do you remember me, Idhril?"

"Of course I do!" the girl answered firmly, and came forward to give him the kiss. "I remember Papa and Granda Barahir and Uncle Bregolas and Aunt Amoreth too."

"And so do I," said eleven year old Melethril. "Well maybe not Uncle Bregolas, but I do remember you Uncle Beren." (2)

"I do too." Egnor, the elder of the two boys, instantly claimed.

"You can't," his big sister told him scornfully, "you were just a baby."

"I was not! I was nearly four!" He looked defiantly up at his uncle. "I remember you gave me a little bow and some arrows when we left."

"That's right I did." Beren agreed. "You remember right, nephew." The boy shot his sister a triumphant look.

"What happened to your hand?" six year old Amdir wanted to know.

Luthien flinched. Beren had made no effort to hide his stump. She knew his mother and brother and sister had to have noticed it but they had said nothing.

"A wolf bit it off." Beren answered his younger nephew. The boy's blue-grey eyes went round.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, awed.

"Very much." Beren said matter-of-factly and turned to smile warmly at his wife. "But your Aunt Luthien healed it for me."

Amdir turned his attention to her. "You're very beautiful." he said seriously.

"Thank you." she said, then: "I am very glad to meet you Amdir, and all of you, I have never had nieces or nephews before."

"Aunt Emeldir," the elder of the two blond girls broke in, "don't forget us!"

"I haven't forgotten you, litte cousin." Beren laughed and turned to Luthien: "This is Rian and her sister Rielle, my cousin Belegund's daughters." He looked around. "I have seen Morwen, but where are Lorwendel, Gilmith and Feiniel and Belanor and Emelloth?" (3) Luthien heard a trace of anxiety, almost fear, in his voice.

Emeldir heard it too. "Lorwendel, understandably, chose to return to her father's house and took her daughters with her. As for your sisters, they are married and with their own homes and families. We will send word to them in the morning."

Beren smiled in relief.

...

Emeldir led Beren into the hall by the hand and announced: "My elder son has come home. Here is Beren son of Barahir returned to us!"The Men and Women assembled at the tables below the dais stared for a moment in astonishment then burst into cheers. As the noise began to die down she drew Luthien forward. "And here is his wife, Luthien Tinuviel of the Sindar! Don't be frightened," she added in an undertone to Luthien, "it's just Men's noisy way of showing their happiness."

Luthien nodded. It was very un-Elvish but the joy and the welcome she felt in the cheers made her feel warm clear through. Maybe winning a place among her husband's people wouldn't be as hard as she'd feared.

...

1. Bregil is the eldest sister of Barahir. She and her daughter Beldis decided to remain in Brethil rather than go on to Dor-Lomin. Beldis eventually married Handir Chief of the Haladin and was the mother of Brandir.

2. Bregolas was of course killed in the Dagor Bragollach in 455 FA when Melethril, his great niece, was not yet a year old. But Idhril, her sister, was four and may well retain some memory of him.

3. Gilmith and Feiniel are the younger daughters of Baragund and his Hadorian wife Lorwendel. Belanor and Emelloth are Beren's sisters, between himself and Bregon in age. Adanel is three years his senior. Given the recent history of the house of Beor Beren had every reason to fear the worst when he failed to find his sisters and cousins with the rest of the family.