Chapter 3:

When Beren followed Gildor into the room, he saw that there were only two other elves present. The one was dark haired and grey-eyed. Obviously a Noldo of high standing in Nargothrond, he was dressed in light mail and a long sword hung at his side. His left hand rested easily on the hilt, and he held a parchment in the other as he stood before the second elf. This one was seated comfortably in a large chair, one leg pulled up and one hand resting upon an open book which lay carelessly on his lap: as if he had been interrupted at his ease.

With one glance at the seated elf Beren knew that his father's description of the Lord of Nargothrond was an understatement of the truth. He was reminded of Thingol, yet this king seemed less terrible, and yet somehow greater, than the King of Doriath.

The dark-haired elf had been speaking as Beren and his guide entered. He stopped now when Finrod raised his hand.

Gildor saw his foster-father smile slightly as he saw him enter, then Finrod's eyes narrowed as he saw the worry in his son's eyes. 'What troubles you, yondo?' He seemed to be asking. Gildor turned his head slightly to the Man beside him. As he watched his father's gaze, many emotions seemed to flash through his eyes: pain, sorrow, anger, resignation.

"Love not too well the works of thy hands," he whispered, but Edrahil and Gildor both heard him and looked at each other with the same question in their eyes.

"Welcome, child of Bëor, to my Halls," the King said out loud as he rose and approached the Man. "Welcome always are any of your kin to me, but even more so in their need. What aid do you seek of Nargothrond, hína?"

"My lord," began Beren as he once again held out his father's ring, "I am Beren, son of Barahir. I come to you in desperation, bereft of council and hope. I do not seek aid. Indeed, I do not think that there are any who can aid me. I turned my feet hither only because I had no place else to go."

Finrod smiled at the Man, though Gildor noticed that the smile held no mirth. "I need no ring," he said, closing Beren's hand about his treasure, "to remind me of the kin of Bëor, or of Barahir the Brave. Whatever is within my power, be it only shelter or an attentive ear, it is yours for the asking." He then embraced the Man and led him to a chair by the fire. "Come and rest. Edrahil, call for wine and bread."

After Edrahil returned with the refreshments and offered Beren a goblet of wine, which the man accepted gratefully, Finrod sat back in his chair. Gildor remained standing behind his king.

"Now, mellon," said Finrod. "Tell me your tale."

Then Beren, son of Barahir, drew breath and began recounting his tale, from the death of his father to his finding of Luthien to King Thingol's decree.

While the Man could not read the Elven-king's emotions in his posture and countenance, the two other elves present could. As Beren's story progressed, Gildor watched his father's shoulder's tighten, and Edrahil could see the color and gaiety flee his friend's face, to be replaced by resignation and sadness. When Beren recounted Thingol's words, Gildor looked to Edrahil, and saw his own dread and confusion mirrored in his former tutor's eyes.

"And then, my lord," Beren finished, "I was met in the forest by your son and his company." He looked straight at Gildor. "Though by no indication in manner or speech could I tell that this forest-warden was indeed a king's son. But perhaps the Eldar are other to Men in courtesy."

Finrod looked round at his son, who looked back at him. He raised a eyebrow at the younger elf. Had he been hostile to the Man? Gildor shrugged imperceptibly, but one side of his mouth twitched.

The king mentally shook his head and turned back to the Man before him. "Son of Barahir, you have truly been through many grievous trials. Be at ease now. Rest within my halls without fear, not only in memory of an oath, but as a guest of the king. Edrahil will see to your comfort." When Beren moved to protest, the king placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "We two shall speak more of this later, mellon nîn, after you have rested and I have pondered your words within my heart. Yet know this, son of Barahir, whatever else betide, my own oath holds and I will aide you as I am able."

Hearing truth in the words of Finrod, Beren allowed Edrahil to lead him from the room; leaving the king and his foster-son with the dying fire and a mounting sense of unease. The Man's story had been worse than even Gildor's apprehensions had imagined.

"Well, Sailo, what think you? You have not said one word since you entered this room."

"Thingol surprises me, aranya. He was always quick to anger, but cruelty and malice such as this..." Gildor shook his head. "I would never have thought to hear of such actions from him."

Finrod sighed. "Once again the oath of Fëanáro and the Doom of Mandos is at work among us. It now ensnares even the innocent. I fear that much shall come of Thingol's anger. But, come, yondonya, there is more worrying you than the king of Doriath."

Gildor frowned. "Atar, I do not understand it," he said quietly. Finrod looked at him curiously. It had been many years since his foster-son had called him that. "Ever since I first saw this Man in the forest, my heart has been filled with strange forebodings. And, now that I have heard his story, I am even more troubled. As Beren and I passed through the Great Hall, Curufin glared at us the whole way, and I saw him go running off as we left. Who knows what mischief he and his brother will seek to cause now." He looked at Finrod with pain in his eyes. "Ata, I fear that some great evil has been brought to Nargothrond."

Finrod smiled and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Ai, yondo," he said. "Evil came to these lands when Morgoth first set foot on this shore, not with the son of Barahir. Yet I, too, am troubled at the coming of Beren, as if a doom long anticipated now approaches. Whether it be of sorrow or joy, I cannot say."

Gildor cracked a half-hearted smile. "And Lindan called me martyawë. Now I see that I come by it honestly."

Finrod smiled at his son. "Not all dooms are evil, and foresight may be given to those who listen attentively. But, yondo," he said, "always remember that while everything will fade, Ilúvatar shall bring all discordant notes back into harmony, making his Song that much greater."

Gildor nodded in understanding, although Finrod's talk of doom and fading pained him. The two elves sat in silence for several minutes. Finally, Gildor spoke.

"What shall you do, herunya?" he asked.

"Do, pityawë? I shall call my people together, tell them of Beren's plight, and remind them of my oath to Barahir."

"But what aid can you give the Man? Thingol obviously desires his death, either by the hand of Morgoth or by the sons of Fëanor."

"As I told Beren, I shall give all that I must to fulfill my bond," the king answered, gazing into the dying embers.

"But, atarinya..." It was not the stern command in the Finrod's eyes, as he turned them upon him, which stopped Gildor, but the intense pain which he saw barely veiled within. It was then that Gildor began to have an inkling of what Finrod intended to do. He swallowed and looked back at his foster-father with growing fear.

"Gildor," Finrod said, the king of Nargothrond once more, "I want you to go to Amon Ethir and bring Orodreth back. He shall be needed here. How fast do you think that you can be there and back?"

Gildor shook off his concern and did a quick mental calculation. "If I leave now, aranya, we can be back within three hours."

"Three hours...," mused Finrod as a series of events seemed to play out before his mind's-eye. "Good, yondo."

Gildor stood to leave, but hesitated. It seemed to him as if his foster-father knew, or at least suspected, what was going to happen.

"Do you know, herunya, what will happen?"

"No, hínya melin, I do not. But I fear...," he answered, but he did not look at Gildor as he also rose. Suddenly he looked up, and as he placed his arm around his foster-son's shoulders, his countenance cleared and the light came back into his eyes. "But we shall take the adventure given us, Cálion Véryangólion, regardless of our fears. Now, go swiftly to Orodreth."

Gildor smiled, too, as he left, but it was clear that his fears were in no way allayed.

"As well they should not be," said Finrod quietly to himself. "For a heavy and fearful doom hangs over us all." He looked up as if he could see that doom hovering above him. He knew that Beren went most likely to his death, and he knew that he must follow him. Finrod had known this as soon as he laid eyes on the Man. He knew the pride and wrath of the sons of Fëanor with regards to their father's jewels. And he knew the power and following which they had won in Nargothrond. Things might go very ill tonight.

"And I would save your son from almost certain death, if I can, Véryangolë, meldonya," he said quietly, starring into the cold fireplace. "It is not his fate to follow me now, yet neither must he carry the weight of a fading dream."

Silently, Finrod set his resolve and went about calling his people to the Great Hall of the King.

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Notes:

(Words marked with an asterisk, *, are words which I have re-constructed, and are therefore subject to error.)

yondo: son (Q)

"Love not too well the works of thy hands": Part of Ulmo's warning to Turgon. That Turgon shared this warning with Finrod is not part of canon, but I do not think that it is beyond the realm of possibility between those two friends. I also think it more part of Finrod's character that he would take the Vala's words more to heart. (Silmarillion, p. 297)

hína: child (Q)

"I turned my feet hither only because I had no place else to go": A paraphrase of Beren's journey from Doriath. (Silmarillion, p. 203)

Sailo: wise one (Q)

"We two shall speak more of this later, mellon nîn": I try not to quote large passages of Tolkien in my own writing, and most times are easier than others. Finrod's very insightful speech to Beren at this point in the Silmarillion (p. 204-5) is one of the latter. This speech, I think, is what first drew me to the King of Nargothrond to begin with. I did not want to paraphrase Tolkien's words, so I moved that conversation between Beren and Finrod later, while still touching on Finrod's adamant adherence to his oath.

aranya: my king (Q)

atar/ata: father/papa (Q)

yondonya: my son (Q)

*martyawë: prophesier of doom, from verb martya- (Q)

herunya: my lord (Q)

pityawë: little one, a term of endearment (Q)

*atarinya: my father (Q)

Amon Ethir: 'Hill of Spies', a league east of Nargothrond. Although, that is a league as the crow flies; this being before Túrin's ill-fated bridge over the Narog, and all traveling from the east to Nargothrond had to cross further to the north where Narog and Ginglith met.

*hínya melin: my beloved child (Q)

meldonya: my dear (friend) (Q)