Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's work. The OC's are mine. Just to let everyone know, there will be a few new OC's introduced in this chapter. Hope you like them!
One-thousand and four hundred-fifty-six years later…
Beleg awoke that morning to a beam of sunshine falling onto his face. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of all the colors that graced the sky on this glorious morning. He silently got out of bed and walked over to the window. He leaned against the windowsill, allowing the early morning breeze to lightly ruffle his hair. As usual, he was up with the sun. For as long as he could remember, he had always arisen as Arien began her journey across the sky.
Beleg gazed out of the window, admiring the view. This small village sprawled out in front of him was located just outside the massive citadel of The Thousand Caves where he used to live. Like most elvish settlements in the forest, all the houses had been built up in the trees, away from danger, should anything happen. The only things on the forest ground were the village square, the training grounds, and the barracks, so the marchwardens could get to a fight quickly.
Beleg allowed himself a small smile as he looked in the general direction of the barracks. He would've been starting target practice by now, if it hadn't been for the fact that the marchwardens were on one of their rare breaks. He had decided to stay with Alquawen during his time off, as she had been pressing him to come over and visit for a while now.
"Speaking of Alquawen," Beleg thought to himself with a slight smirk "she probably won't be up and moving until sometime in the afternoon! She has always enjoyed sleeping -"
Whack!
Beleg gave a yelp of utter surprise and shock as he was hit from behind by something… soft? The marchwarden stumbled a few paces from the sheer force of the blow. Whoever had hit him was now snickering over his reaction to the attack. Beleg whirled around. There was Alquawen, still in her nightclothes, and holding onto a pillow.
"Good morning!" She said with a laugh. "I wanted to wake you up this morning as a surprise, but you're already up!"
"I've always been up before you, Al! Quite honestly, I'm surprised that you're even awake at this hour."
"Well, there's a first time for everything! Why don't we get breakfast ready, and then discuss what we're going to do today?" Alquawen said with a smile. Work had gotten in the way of the twins spending time together, and she sadly knew that her gwanûr's break was coming to an end, so she was determined to have the best time possible with Beleg. A broad, slightly crooked smile graced Beleg's features. Alquawen suddenly realized how much she had missed seeing that smile. Her brother's smile. To her it was the most beautiful, most wonderful, most perfect thing in the world.
"Aye." Beleg answered, the smile never leaving his face as he reached out, and gave his gwathel's arm a gentle squeeze. "Let's do that." Alquawen returned her brother's smile.
"Aye, we shall do that, but first..." Alquawen began.
"We should get out of our nightclothes, and into proper attire!" Both twins finished in unison.
Beleg strode into the kitchen, lured by the smells of warm scones, jam, and fresh-cut fruit. Alquawen was already there when he arrived, and she was removing a batch of fresh scones from the oven.
"Good morning! Again." Alquawen greeted him with a playful smile. She could feel her heart soaring with the familiar feeling of love that the twins often sent to each other through their bond. Beleg gave his sister a smile. Whenever he was feeling down, he could always trust that his gwanunig's high spirits would pull him back to his feet.
"Good morning again to you too, Al." Alquawen flashed her brother a grin, and then grabbed one of the scones off the tray she was holding.
"Catch!" she cried out as the scone went flying through the air. Beleg caught the scone deftly, but then quickly deposited it on a nearby plate.
"Next time you throw a scone at me, make sure it's cooled down first!" Beleg exclaimed as he checked his hands for burns.
"And I thought marchwardens were supposed to be tough." Alquawen said sarcastically, in a teasing tone.
"Aye, we are. Except when it comes to scalding hot scones." Alquawen couldn't help laughing at her brother's comment. Both twins leaned against the wall, eating their breakfast in silence. Beleg knew that most ellith would be horrified by the lack of manners, if they had guests or family members eating in their kitchens while standing. His gwathel's kitchen on the other hand… Well, manners didn't matter under certain circumstances.
Suddenly, the sound of the front door swinging open and slamming shut with a terrible amount of force reached their ears, and then, the sound of someone running, no, sprinting through the house. Almost out of thin air, Culdôr came flying into the kitchen, nearly tripping over a chair as he raced towards them.
"Culdôr! What in Arda is going on?" Beleg yelped as he caught his friend.
"Beleg, we have to go! The troop is moving out in five minutes!" Culdôr exclaimed breathlessly as he gathered himself.
"What!?" Alquawen cried before Culdôr could give an explanation. "You're all on break! Why do you need to go?"
"Nargothrond." Culdôr said grimly. Alquawen noticed that her brother's demeanor suddenly changed as soon as those words came out of Culdôr's mouth. Ever since Lúthian refused a marriage proposal from one of the lords of Nargothrond, tenisons had grown between Doriath and Nargothrond. Although neither side had attacked the other, both sides were ready to defend their own.
"What about Nargothrond?" Beleg asked.
"A message came from Finrod Felagund early this morning, stating that he would like to have a conference with Thingol about peace terms and other such matters."
"What reasons do we have to doubt Felagund's words? He has always been the one to prefer making peace rather than fighting." Beleg pointed out.
"I know, but Thingol said that he wasn't going to take any chances, now come on!"
In West Beleriand…
A Nargothrondian sat high in the treetops about three miles outside of Nargothrond. He lay back lazily as he listened to the birds singing in the branches. Although elves normally prefered to be among their own, he didn't mind the solidarity. Besides, he was under self-imposed exile, and was an outcast even before he ran away about a year ago. It was better this way. No one pointed, no one stared (except for inquisitive wildlife, of course), no one spoke behind his back, and no one beat him. And he was determined that no one ever would again. Ever.
"And, " he muttered quietly to himself, "I don't have to listen to others gossiping about how they think I 'might be inhabited by a demon of Morgoth'." Yes, it was true that he was better with a sword then most ellyn twice his age, and that his eyes were strange, but did that really qualify him as "possibly inhabited by a demon"?
The Nargothrondian certainly was an odd looking ellon. Jet black hair framed his pale face, which only made his dark eyes stand out more. At first glance, one would've probably thought that his eyes were black, but when you looked at them from an angle, you would discover that they were actually an extremely dark shade of violet. He always wore dark clothing, as it helped him blend in with the trees, and his only weapons were his sword, and a dagger hidden in his boot. Luckily, he hadn't had to use either to defend himself since he had run off.
"Hopefully, that means that Erynaur hasn't even bothered to come after me." he thought to himself with grim satisfaction. Suddenly, he was pulled out of his reverie by what sounded like a rather large number of people walking on the forest floor. He listened intently. The footsteps fell too heavily to be elves. Much too heavily. The Nargothrondian army-crawled to the edge of the branch he had been using as a perch.
"Edain?" he whispered to himself as he watched the men marching through the forest. This did not bode well. Men normally didn't enter the forest. At least, not in numbers as great as this. He estimated that there were three-hundred of them. At least. He silently picked himself up, and began following them through the trees, going completely unnoticed by his quarry.
On the road to Nargothrond…
Beleg rode in between Mablung and Culdôr, thinking to himself. The General rode directly in front of them, his ion, Callon, sitting behind him in the saddle. The presence of a child was a sign that the Iathrim came in peace.
Beleg smiled quietly to himself. General Daecrist Gaeredhelion was the very General who had confined them to the barracks all those years ago. At first, Beleg, Mablung, and Culdôr had despised him, and Daecrist felt the same way about them, until about five months ago, when the troop had been ambushed by orcs. Daecrist and his Lieutenant had been cornered, when Beleg and his friends came barreling through to help defeat the enemies. Things had been much different between them and the General after that. Beleg was soon pulled out of his thoughts by the elfling's voice.
"Ada? Ada? Why are we going to Nargothrond? Why are we traveling with the army instead of with Nana like we normally do when we go places, Ada?" Daecrist didn't know how to answer his child's questions. Beleg quickly decided to give his superior a hand, and rode out of line so he was alongside Daecrist.
"Well, penneth, you know how you were talking about becoming a marchwarden one day?" Callon nodded. "Well," Beleg continued, slightly unsure of where this was going. "marchwardens need to travel a lot, so this is just a way of trying to help you get used to it." Callon thought about it for awhile, before his entire face lit up in a smile.
"That makes sense! Ada said I'd make a good marchwarden one day! Right, Ada?"
"Aye." Daecrist agreed as he flashed Beleg a grateful smile. "You will be!" A higher ranking General suddenly called Daecrist over. Callon held on to his Adar tightly as they rode forward. Culdôr and Mablung rode up to their friend.
"Daecrist doesn't seem too happy about the fact that Callon is the peace sign." Culdôr observed.
"Aye." Beleg agreed solemnly, before looking in Mablung's direction "Daecrist wouldn't have volunteered Callon for this mission. Mablung, you were there. What happened?"
"Someone ratted Daecrist out." Mablung spat out, suddenly becoming rather fired up over the incident.
"Probably by another parent trying to keep their child from going." Culdôr mused thoughtfully. Mablung nodded.
"That's what I think as well. Apparently, the higher ranking Generals didn't even know that Daecrist had a child."
"Daecrist must've done a rather good job of protecting Callon if they didn't know till now. After all, Callon is nearly six years old." Beleg murmured quietly.
"Then that means that Daecrist is a good parent because he's supporting Callon's decision to become a marchwarden, but he's also making sure that Callon can enjoy his childhood without being troubled by the things that happen in the army. '' Culdôr said firmly. "Now let's stop talking about this, because it's just making me feel terrible for both of them." The three were quiet for some time when the peace and quiet was suddenly interrupted by a battle-cry.
Daecrist looked around, startled by the sudden commotion.
"Ada, what's wrong?" Callon whimpered, clinging to his father tightly.
"I'm not sure..." Daecrist muttered quietly. He hated lying to his child. Daecrist knew very well what was going on, but he stubbornly refused to frighten his son. He glanced over his shoulder. The higher ranking Generals were already talking amongst themselves, trying to formulate a possible battle tactic, and decide who should scout the area.
Edain suddenly exploded out of the dense foliage without warning. Callon opened his mouth to scream, as his father's horse reared, frightened by the sudden attack. Daecrist did all he could to keep himself and his son from falling off the terrified animal when one of the enemies shot an arrow towards them. Callon tumbled off the horse as it fell to the ground, stone dead.
A sharp cry of pain suddenly burst for Daecrist's lips, mingling with the sickening sound of breaking bone, as the horse fell on top of it's master's leg. Dizzy, the General tried to free himself from the heavy animal's crushing weight, only to cause himself more pain.
"ADA!" Daecrist looked around. He knew that voice. Callon raced over to his father, sobbing for breath.
"Ada! Ada are you alright?!" the elfling anxiously exclaimed in horror as he firmly glued himself to Daecrist.
"Callon, you need to get out of here." Daecrist said quickly as he warily glanced at the approaching edain.
"No. Ada, I'm staying with you!" Callon cried.
"Saes, Callon. Saes." Daecrist pleaded quietly as he gripped his child's hand gently. Callon's eyes began to brim with tears, but he obeyed his father's request. Daecrist silently watched his son run towards where the other Generals stood, shouting orders to the soldiers.
Daecrist gripped his bow tightly, and drew an arrow. Although injured, and unable to stand, he was not about to go down without a fight.
Hope everyone liked this chapter! Sorry that I haven't updated this in a while, this chapter took a long time to write. Also, I recently posted another story called The Last Cúthalion if anyone wants to read it. (No, it does not tie into this story.)
(Elvish translations below :))
Gwanûr = Brother
Gwathel = Sister
Gwanunig = twin
Ellith = Elf (female ; plural)
Ellyn = Elf (male ; plural)
Ellon = Elf (male ; singular)
Edain = Men
Ion = Son
Iathrim = People of Doriath
Ada = Dad/Daddy
Nana = Mom/Mommy
Adar = Father
Penneth = Young one
Saes = Please