Chapter 5:

The Great Hall of Nargothrond was very large, but even so the room was full. King Finrod Felagund had called all of his people to hear his words, and with them were many of the Fëanorionnath, as well; for the people of Celegorm and Curufin swelled Nargothrond after the Dagor Bragollach.

Gildor and his companions, then, were hard pressed to find space to see and hear. Frantically, they pushed their way through the crowd around the edge of the room, trying to approach the King's dais. Meordel was there before them, and as soon as she saw the three ellyn, she pushed her way to Gildor, terror in her eyes. Gildor spared a moment to run a hand along her cheek, seeking as much as giving comfort, before he gently handed her to her cousin and pushed his way to the front. As he broke through the crowd, Gildor stopped in horror at the scene before him.

Curufin stood before the Nargothrondrim, eyes shining: the hlócë at his most cunning. Celegorm stood at his brother's side, hand belligerently on the hilt of his sword, eyes smoldering red fire. 'Nwalco,' thought Gildor, 'the cruel one'.

The adan, Beren, was nowhere to be seen.

Behind the sons of Fëanor, Finrod sat upon his throne, the silver and emerald diadem of Nargothrond upon his head. He looked every inch a king of the Noldor as he sat there, hands on the arms of his chair and eyes straight ahead. But Gildor's knees threatened to fail him when he saw the raw emotion radiating from the figure of his foster-father. Finrod's hands were white as he clenched the arms of his throne. His pain, dejection and rage shone out of his eyes, searing into Gildor's own heart. He thought he saw Finrod's frame tremble slightly with the effort to contain his anger.

Meordel, sensing Gildor's pain, gazed sorrowfully at the scene before her and clasped his hand in her own two. Lindan and Orodreth, nearly as dumbstruck as Gildor, stood beside him, wondering what caused such high emotions as were obviously filling the Hall.

An oppressive silence echoed within the Hall as Curufin finished weaving his pall of fear over the assembled Nargothrondrim. Gildor could not bring himself to turn and look at the elves surrounding him. He did not need to see their eyes to know their terror. He could feel their fëar cowering before the bloody ferocity of Celegorm, the cunning conjuring of Curufin, and the heart-rending image of their King. He could hear their hearts murmuring against the son of Finarfin as they turned their faces from him, from their once-beloved Felagund, in both shame and denial.

'The hlócë and the nwalco have played their parts well,' Gildor thought bitterly. 'Their father must be proud.' He closed his eyes in anguish and wished that he could adequately curse Fëanor and his sons and their Oath.

A sudden movement from the dais drew Gildor's eyes back to his foster-father. Finrod vehemently pushed himself up from his throne. He took two steps down his dais, eyes blazing as his pain strengthened and fed his rage. Hands trembling with emotion reached up to his head and lifted off the silver and emeralds of Nargothrond. With an anguished cry he threw the diadem down to his feet.

"Your oaths of faith to me you may break," he cried, "but I must hold my bond." Finrod looked out over his people, and to each, from the greatest to the least, it seemed as if the King's eyes bore into his very soul, testing his worth and faithfulness. "Yet if there be any on whom the shadow of our curse has not yet fallen, I should find at least a few to follow me, and should not go hence as a beggar that is thrust from the gates."

Feet shuffled and eyes averted in shame. Had Gildor seen the smiles which appeared on the faces of the sons of Fëanor at Finrod's words, he might have willingly committed a second Kin-slaying; but he did not see, his eyes were riveted on his King. Gildor moved to step to the side of his foster-father, but was stopped not by Orodreth's hand upon his shoulder, but by Finrod himself.

The movement, however, drew the King's eyes to those of his foster-son, seeing him for the first time. Gildor watched as eyes dead after the release of rage kindled anew with pain and, for the first time in his memory, fear. 'NO, yondo!' he heard his father's heart cry.

Gildor stood frozen, his heart breaking. He knew that Finrod was planning on going to his death, and his heart broke to be forbidden to follow. Silently, his eyes asked his father 'why?'.

A small company stepped forward to kneel at the base of the dais, Edrahil, ever by Finrod's side, at their head. 'Only ten?!' Gildor's heart cried in anguished disbelief.

Beside him, Meordel drew in a sharp breath as she saw that her uncle was among Finrod's company. She clutched Gildor's hand tighter and turned her face into his shoulder, her tears staining his tunic. Absently, Gildor's arms came up around her shoulders, trying to offer comfort he could not feel. Lindan turned torn eyes on his friend, the gold darkening and blazing the trouble within his fëa, but otherwise he was still.

Edrahil stepped forward, the fallen diadem of Nargothrond in his hands. "Hîr nîn," he said, his strong voice easily carrying through the entire Hall. "Faithfulness bids us leave: you to honor your oath to Barahir the Brave, and we our oaths to you, our King. We beg that you give your crown to a steward," his eyes moved to Gildor and Orodreth, "to keep in trust until you return. For you remain my King, and theirs," he said, gesturing disdainfully towards the surrounding Nargothrondrim, "whatever betide."

Finrod nodded as he took the diadem back from Edrahil. His eyes were clear and determined, once again the powerful son of Finarfin, the Lord of Nargothrond. He looked back at Orodreth, beckoning him silently. The son of Angrod walked forward, eyes fixed on his uncle and face expressionless.

"Orodreth," said Finrod in a clear, strong voice, "son of my brother, and son of the House of Finarfin, I charge thee with the care of Nargothrond. My authority is thine, thy word is as mine." He placed the diadem on his nephew's head and drew him into an embrace.

Curufin smirked and Celegorm smiled. The sons of Fëanor turned and stalked out of the Hall, the crowd quickly parting to let them pass.

As his uncle held him close, Orodreth heard him whisper in his ear, "Remember the words of the Vala and 'love not too well the work of thy hands, nor the devices of thy heart'."

Finrod turned to leave, and his eyes met those of his foster-son, begging for understanding and forgiveness; begging him to live. Gildor understood his father's plea. He closed his eyes and bowed his head in acceptance and obedience.

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Notes:

Fëanorionnath: People of the Sons of Fëanor (S)

hlócë: serpent, as in looped (Q)

nwalco: cruel one (Q)

fëar: souls (Q)

yondo: son (Q)

fëa: soul (Q)

Hîr nîn: My lord (S)

"Your oaths of faith to me you may break... should not go hence as a beggar that is thrust from the gates": Finrod's entire speech here is quoted from Tolkien. I could not rewrite or paraphrase it. (Silmarillion, p. 205)

"For you remain my king, and theirs whatever betide": Edrahil, quoted from the Silmarillion (p. 206)

"Love not too well the works of thy hands, nor the devices of thy heart.": Part of Ulmo's warning to Turgon. See Chapter 3 notes for further explanation. (Silmarillion, p. 297)