~~ Chapter Five: The Border ~~

            Several days passed, and Finrod's plan to make a trip to the border to check on the rest of their party was put into action.  Orodreth, Aegnor, and Angrod were going as well, but Artanis declined the offer, electing to stay behind in Menegroth.  She said she was staying for Lúthien and that the two of them were working on something, but Finrod couldn't help thinking that his sister wasn't being entirely truthful about her reasons.  Lúthien wasn't the only one to notice Artanis and Celeborn enter the dining hall looking as though they'd been friends for years, and Finrod's thoughts about their relationship were ambivalent.  He had no negative feelings toward Celeborn – in fact, he admired him – but he feared what would happen if his friendship with Artanis turned into something more.  How would the Noldor react if the greatest of their women fell in love with a blind man?

Finrod was able to eventually convince himself that Artanis was too smart to waste herself on someone who couldn't see her.  She was ambitious and he was a prince, but it was highly unlikely that rule of Doriath would ever fall to him, and the chances of another realm accepting a blind ruler were even slimmer.  Celeborn would only hold her back.

Besides, he thought to himself, she's too old for him.

            With those thoughts in mind, he set out on horseback with his brothers to the border at dawn a week after their arrival feeling confident that Artanis, if faced with a decision, would make the right choice.  They were riding for about half an hour when they were stopped by Galathil and another soldier they had not met, with dark hair and an ill-favored look about him.  Finrod was glad to see Galathil, but the other made him nervous.

            "Good morning, Finrod," Galathil said, pulling his horse alongside Finrod's.  "We heard you were traveling to the border.  Captain Valendil asked us to accompany you."

            "Thank you," said Finrod.  "An escort will be most appreciated."

            "We will take you to the Noldor camp," the dark-haired elf said in a bitter voice.  "Follow me."

            Orodreth fell in line behind the stranger, and Aegnor and Angrod were right behind him.  Galathil had motioned for Finrod to hold back, and the two of them brought up the rear.  "I'm sorry about Aranesen," Galathil said apologetically.

            Finrod assumed Aranesen was their dark-haired leader.  "Is he always so… unpleasant?"

            "Yes, but usually not to this extent," Galathil answered.  Finrod noticed he was speaking softer than normal.  "It's probably me.  Valendil generally keeps us apart, but the king wanted at least one of the escorts to have met you before.  Irisun is not available, and there is no way Valendil would send Uncómien with Aranesen alone.  That would be worse than me."

            "What does he have against you and Uncómien?" Finrod asked, making a conscious effort to keep his voice down as well.

            "We're Celeborn's brothers."

            "Oh," said Finrod.  "Then what does he have against Celeborn?"

            Galathil sighed and looked down before answering.  "When Celeborn was captain, before he was blinded, Aranesen was his lieutenant.  Everyone expected that he would become captain after Celeborn had to leave our numbers, but he didn't."

            "Valendil did," Finrod said.

            "Exactly," said Galathil.  "And then Uncómien replaced Aranesen as lieutenant."

            "Why is that?"

            Galathil lowered his voice to a whisper.  "Because if it were not for Aranesen, Celeborn might still have his sight."

            Finrod stared at Galathil in surprise for a few moments, then said, "This just became very interesting."

            Galathil looked as though he felt he said too much.

            Finrod thought back to a conversation he had with Artanis two nights ago.  The topic of Celeborn's blindness came up, and despite all the time she spent with Celeborn, she didn't know much more than Finrod did.  When they first arrived in Menegroth, Uncómien told her it had been a "terrible accident," but the next morning, Lúthien said that she did not believe it was an accident at all.  Aranesen was apparently a piece in this puzzle as well.

            "It's been almost thirty-one years," Galathil said quietly.  "A large party of orcs had been spotted on our eastern borders.  They could not enter Doriath, but our scouts reported that Sauron was planning to build a fortress there.  Sauron is more powerful than the queen, and he is capable of breaking through her enchantments.  We laid siege to the orc camp as soon as we received the king's orders to do so."

            "Let me guess," said Finrod.  "A trap."

            Galathil nodded.  "There was no plan for a fortress.  Not at that point, anyway.  Sauron's plan was to annihilate our defenses, then work his way through the Girdle of Melian, essentially clearing the road for Morgoth.  There were three times as many orcs there as we originally suspected, and we were outnumbered fifty to one.  About halfway through the battle, which we were winning by a significant amount, Celeborn gave an order which Aranesen refused.  As a result, Aranesen ended up being captured by orcs.  Celeborn rescued him.  When they tried to escape, Celeborn was attacked.  Just Celeborn.  The orcs completely ignored Aranesen; it was like he didn't even exist.  Aranesen got away and told us Celeborn had been killed.  Uncómien refused to believe it unless he saw it with his own eyes, and he was gone before anyone could stop him.  He found Celeborn and fought off twenty orcs with his bare hands.  If it had taken Uncómien any longer to get to him, he probably would have been dead.  He'd suffered many injuries, but the worst was an arrow right through his eyes."

            Finrod looked at Aranesen, and anger swelled inside him.

            "We later learned that the arrow had been touched by Morgoth himself," Galathil continued.  "It burned the queen's hand when she tried to remove it, and she said that was how she knew.  The strange thing is that appeared to be the only arrow poisoned by the Enemy.  It was as if it was meant for Celeborn."

            "And what happened to Aranesen?" Finrod asked.

            "King Thingol was outraged when he heard of Aranesen's cowardice," Galathil said.  "He was going to remove him from the border patrol and even threatened to banish him from Doriath.  Uncómien vouched for him, though, and he was allowed to remain, but received a serious demotion."

            Had he been Thingol or even Uncómien, Finrod probably would have killed him, and he said so.

            A bittersweet smile crossed Galathil's face.  "Uncómien almost did."

            ***

            "There!" Valendil cried.  "It's Uncómien!  And he has Celeborn!"

            No less than seven soldiers rushed over to help Uncómien as he came over the rise, carrying the battered, lifeless body of his brother.  "Where is Aranesen?" Uncómien asked quietly.

            "Uncómien, you're hurt," said Valendil, taking notice of the numerous cuts and bruises on Uncómien's arms and face.  "You must see one of the Healers."

            As he was speaking, two Healers arrived, followed by a third.  The first two took Celeborn, and the third approached Uncómien.  He waved her back.  "Do not bother with me," he said.  "I will be fine.  Where is Aranesen?"

            "Over there," said Valendil, and nodded toward a tree about twenty feet away.  Aranesen was sitting underneath it with another Healer who was bandaging his arm.

            Uncómien, exhausted as he was, still had enough energy in him to run full-speed at Aranesen, seize him by the neck, lift him to his feet, and slam him against the tree.  "Coward!" he shouted.  "You pathetic, gutless piece of filth!  How could you leave him?"

            Aranesen could not answer; Uncómien's grip on his throat was too tight for him to breathe.

            It took three soldiers to pry Uncómien off Aranesen.  "I'm sorry," Aranesen gasped, rubbing at his throat.  "The arrow hit him in the eyes.  There was no hope."

            "THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE!  HE COULD HAVE STILL BEEN ALIVE!" Uncómien screamed, fighting against the soldiers that held him with all the strength his anger had given him.  "HE DIDN'T HAVE TO SAVE YOU, BUT HE DID!  AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY HIM?"

            He broke free of those who held him and rushed at Aranesen again, this time throwing him to the ground.  "MY BROTHER IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!"

            Galathil ran over and placed his hand on his brother's  shoulder.  "Uncómien…"

            Uncómien whirled around, looking like a dragon about to strike.  But he didn't.  He stood still for a few moments, and gradually, his rage faded.  Tears formed in his eyes, and he was unable to fight them back.  Broken, he sank to his knees and wept bitterly.  Galathil knelt down next to him, and no one dared approach.

            Finally, one of the Healers made an announcement.  "He's not dead."

            Uncómien and Galathil looked up, and hope was rekindled in their hearts.  "He's not dead?"

            "No," the Healer answered.  "But I am afraid he will never be the same again."

            ***

            "Uncómien and Aranesen didn't speak to each other for almost five years," Galathil said.  "They haven't forgiven each other, either."

            "Do you expect they ever will?"

            Galathil sighed and shook his head.  "I do not."

            It was sunset by the time they reached the camp of the Noldor.  As they rode in, out of the main tent in the center of the encampment came Celebrimbor, a grandson of Fëanor who had become estranged from his father, Curufin, and been permitted by Finrod to join their party.  Celebrimbor was made leader in the absence of the children of Finarfin, and Finrod and the others were anxious to hear his report.

            "Lord Finrod!" Celebrimbor said.  "This is an unexpected surprise!  It is good to see you."

            "It is good to see you, too, Celebrimbor," Finrod replied, dismounting from his horse.

His brothers and Galathil got off their horses as well; Aranesen, however, rode off without a word.  "Don't mind him," Galathil said when he saw Finrod shoot a surprised look in Aranesen's direction.  "Valendil told him to only take you this far.  I will remain with you, and another escort will be here in the morning; probably Uncómien or Irisun."

            The fact that he would just leave without even saying anything seemed somewhat strange to Finrod, but he was glad Aranesen was gone just the same.  There was something about Aranesen that he found unsettling.

            "We sent messengers to Turgon in Nevrest two days ago, telling him of our situation," Celebrimbor said.  "And a scout spotted a party of orcs yesterday, but they were moving toward the west and did not linger."

            "Kill every orc you see," Finrod said.  "We need every chip in the Enemy's armor that we can make."

            "Yes, my lord," Celebrimbor said.  He then looked around at the company that rode in from Menegroth.  "You must be weary from your travels.  Come; let us go inside."

            The horses were led away, and Finrod, Orodreth, Aegnor, Angrod, and Galathil followed Celebrimbor inside the tent.  Finrod noticed that Celebrimbor kept glancing back, and he knew he was looking for Artanis.  It was no secret that Celebrimbor was fond of her, and although Artanis did not reciprocate his feelings for her, Finrod secretly hoped she would someday.  Celebrimbor would be a good match for her.  Now that Fëanor was dead, Celebrimbor's skill as a craftsman was unmatched, and before him stood the promise of a great and glorious future.

            No sooner had they sat down than Celebrimbor asked the question Finrod knew he would.  "Where is Artanis?"

            "Menegroth," said Finrod.  "We asked her to come, but she said she would rather stay behind."

            "She has wasted no time in making friends," said Aegnor.  He chuckled softly.  "You'd think she'd lived there for years, the way she and Celeborn – ouch!"

            He was cut off when Finrod elbowed him in the rib cage, but it was too late.  The damage had already been done.  Celebrimbor visibly stiffened.  "Who?" he asked, sounding much more concerned than he intended.

            "Celeborn," said Aegnor, rubbing the spot where Finrod elbowed him.  "He's an advisor to the king."

            "He's my brother," said Galathil.

            "He's a prince," said Angrod.

            "He's blind," Finrod said quietly.

            "He's blind?" Orodreth repeated, looking at his brother.

            "He's blind," Finrod said again.

            "He's blind?" Celebrimbor asked.

            "He's blind," Galathil confirmed.

            "That hurt," Aegnor whispered to Finrod.

            "Sorry," Finrod whispered back.

            Celebrimbor was stunned.  Blindness was a thing unheard of among the elves.  He was even more stunned than Orodreth, who was now arguing with Finrod.  "I met him!" Orodreth said.  "He didn't act like he was blind!"

            "Orodreth," Finrod said, "have you ever met someone blind before?"

            Galathil cleared his throat loudly.  When he had everyone's attention, he spoke.  "As I have known Celeborn all my life, I believe I am the foremost authority on his condition present," he said.  "He is indeed blind, and has been so for the last thirty years.  And now, if we are quite finished with this discussion…"

            "Of course we are," said Finrod.  "My apologies for ever bringing it up, Galathil."

            Galathil nodded.  "Apology accepted.  Now, then; Celebrimbor, I believe you have the floor."

            "Indeed, I do," said Celebrimbor, studying Galathil carefully.  "But first, there is one small matter that remains to be addressed.  You seem to know who I am, but I do not believe I have met you."

            "Celebrimbor, this is Galathil, son of Galadhon; Galathil, Celebrimbor, son of Curufin," Finrod said quickly.  "There.  You've met.  Keep talking."

            A flicker of a smile appeared on Celebrimbor's face as he resumed giving his report.  "The scouts have done more than report orc sightings," he said.  "They have been tracking the movements.  If you'll come over to this map…"

            The six of them stood, and Celebrimbor led them over to a large table in the corner of a tent, on which a map of Beleriand was placed.  Several lines had been drawn on it recently, all converging on a single point in the mountains.  "As you can see, they all move through here," Celebrimbor said, placing his finger on the spot where the lines met.  "It's the only way through the Ered Wethrin and the Crissaegrim.  If we were to block it somehow and prevent their passage, they would have to go around for miles, and great deal of the western border would be protected."

            Finrod smiled approvingly.  "Well done, Celebrimbor," he said.  "I am very impressed.  What is the name of this place?"

            "The Pass of Sirion."

            "The Pass of Sirion," Finrod repeated slowly, savoring the name.  "We shall build a tower at this Pass of Sirion as soon as we are capable of doing so.  I should like very much to see it."

            "Then we will arrange it," Celebrimbor said.  "Should we plan to make this journey in one week?"

            "Make it two," Finrod replied.  "It will give you time to gather more information on it.  Meanwhile, I will do my part from Menegroth and ask the king what he knows of this pass and what course of action he would suggest."

            "May I speak, Finrod?" Galathil asked.

            "Of course, friend," was Finrod's answer.

            "The Pass of Sirion is indeed a vital point, and the Enemy knows that, too," Galathil said.  "It will not be easy to claim that land."

            "I think we'll manage," Finrod said.  "We are not as weak as the Enemy would like to think."

            We'll see, Galathil thought, but kept it to himself.

~~~

Big fluffy marshmallows for my reviewers: Marnie, Skycat14, Arinya, stearchica, Angel, Guard Elf of Lorien, and Jemi Gr!

@ stearchica: He was blinded after the sun and moon rose.  I haven't decided on a definite year for this story yet (whups), but it's around the year 75 of the First Age.

@ Guard Elf of Lorien: Hee hee, whups.  He's supposed to be young, but not that young… although I do remember reading an essay in which it claimed Tolkien said elves "came of age" at around 50… *sigh*  At any rate, I have to get to class.  ^_^

Hope you're all enjoying!