Melian of Doriath, the Maiar who loved Greymantle; Turin Turambar, fated to be mastered by fate and his blade that was once Anglachel, forged by the father of Maeglin... DarkElf does know how to choose her company!

Chapter Seven, The Black Blade

I left Doriath as quietly as possible. Clad in my skins and feathered cloak again, traveling lightly and swiftly as a sparrow's flight, I focus all of my awareness on the forest. Marchers and bounders mark all the ways into and out of that land, and the Girdle of Melian withstands the cunning of Morgoth still. To avoid their notice I creep and climb, stalk and slide, sometimes moving no faster than the shifting of the shadow of a tree to work my way past their watchful eyes.

The mail shirt rides in a pack that I have secured across my trunk and light as it is, still it is unwieldy. Much of my patience I must pay to keep it safe. I am very aware of the importance of its survival; more vital than my own. But I am the conveyance and so though I do not wear it, still the coat of Eärendil protects me.

I have won my way to the edge of the grove of mighty oaks, where once I lingered in idleness. Still I marvel at their slow wisdom and voices. I would that there were trees such as this in Tumladen!

I become aware of another. Luminescence casts my shadow before my feet and I turn to find Melian following. I swiftly kneel and she raises my head with a touch. She is lovelier than any living thing; her eyes are moistly radiant.

"I felt thy presence in the Girdle, dark elf. Wardens and guards can be circumvented, but not my eyes. Whither goest thou?"

"My queen, I am bound to return from whence I came, on an errand most important. I cannot tell more, for the lives of those I love bind my lips with secrecy."

"Say no more, I know thy purpose. It is foreseen by the Wise, and so you shall be aided in this by Powers beyond the world. I ask only to learn how wouldst thou return?"

"I know not, Lady. Yet I must try and in the seeking find such help as you describe. To remain in one place is to be defeated."

"Your words are full of the wisdom that Kings should heed," spoke Melian, and she gave me a small bundle that she bade me take with her goodwill. "This is lembas. Eat of it sparingly. It will serve you on your journey. No other food will you require so long as you consume it solely. May you find speed, and chance favour you."

I accepted the gift, and she disappeared into the trees as mist before the sun. Blinking as I come out from the shadows of the trees, I head out into the wild lands.

Speed I found, but chance eluded me, and though I moved with all the stealth I had learned, still I was encountered often by roving bands of orcs and bandits. Little interest was I to the latter, for I bore no equipment that they recognized as useful. The orcs I slew or fled from, counting on my swiftness and woodcraft. It served me well, until I was found by a large band of orcs, returning with prisoners to Angband. I was surrounded before I could flee, and thrust into the cluster of frightened and distressed captives, Elves and some Men who were gathered from the ruin of Nargothrond. My captors were hasty and unwise, for they did not despoil me but bound me with cords. I heard their speech; they were concerned about a band which pursued them intent on rescuing their prisoners.

Closer I came to death that night than ever before, and to neither skill of mine nor hand of fate can I accredit it, but only to Turin Turambar. He and his band followed and slew the orcs; freeing all of us and bidding us go to the refuge of Doriath. Turin looked into all the faces of the captives, but found not the one he was driven to seek.

He looked at me and saw that I was not a refugee of Nargothrond, and for a moment he was puzzled. I returned his regard, then knowing nothing of him or the weight of his curse. I refused to turn back toward Doriath, but took my chance and slipped away in the confusion of movement to continue my journey. Ten paces maybe I came before I was stopped by a blade level with my throat, and I recognized that black blade and heard its whispering song, an echo of the cursing of the Elf that forged it.

"Seek you to betray your own people, elf? Has the Dark One already enthralled you? I shall slay you now before you go another pace, and leave you for none to grieve."

"Slay me if thou will, Mormegil, but know that in doing so you take not one life, but two. Your sword sings for my blood, as it did when you slew Strongbow your friend."

Turin started, and grabbing my hair he bent my head back and said fiercely, "How do you know these things?" His teeth were bared like a wild beast.

"I hear the voice of the sword. It speaks in the tongue of my people, the Morquendi. It tells of its history and the reaping it has done, the names of its victims and the lives it hopes to claim. Feed it if you will, but I swear I am no thrall. Thy black deeds may someday be cleansed from thee, for thou art indeed cursed. If you do this thing, then you condemn all folk to thralldom who do not escape to the West."

His blade that shone lay against my neck, and he hesitated long as he pondered my words. A voice called behind us; one of his men hailed for him to come. The trail of another band of orcs had been uncovered.

Turin released me and lowered his sword. "Seeking Finduilas is my errand set, to fulfill a promise to a fallen comrade. Against my judgment I will not slay you, but you must tell me whither you are bound."

"All of the strength of Gorthaur could not wring from me that tale, mortal. Use thy blade or sheath it; is there no limit to the lives thou would disrupt? What is the life of one more elf to a slayer such as thee?"

He turned away then, sheathing his protesting blade and I wasted no time but gathered myself and ran. The words of the sword-song echoed in my mind and I felt time press on me.

Far above my head, an Eagle circled, but I could not see him for the smoke of the burning of Glaurung.