Not So Happy Returns

by Soledad

Author’s Notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Foreword.

These events have no true roots in canon, save that Oropher and Galathil were brothers and probably grew up in Doriath.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

December 23 – Sanctuary

Thingol and his Queen were observing the last phase of finishing their vast underground palace when Beleg Cúthalion, one of the Marchwardens, came running, looking terribly upset.

“My lord,” he exclaimed. “The First City in the East has fallen! A small handful of survivors have just reached our eastern border.”

Thingol froze in shock. Kôr, the First City of the Quendi, those who had chosen to remain in the East, was – or rather had been, apparently – the kingdom of his youngest brother Elmö, whom he had not seen since the First Sundering. News was woefully rare with the whole of Melkor’s realm stretching between them. He had not even known that Kôr had been under siege.

“My brother?” he asked tonelessly.

Beleg shook his head in regret. “Neither he nor Queen Tindómerel are among the refugees. Only a few faithful servants… and their sons.”

Their sons! Despite his grief, Thingol felt immeasurable relief that his brother’s line had survived, at the very least.

“When are they due to arrive?” he asked.

“It might take a day… or more,” replied the Marchwarden. “They have fled on foot through very dark places and are utterly exhausted; ‘twas a long and evil road. We fed them on the eastern border and put them to sleep on our telain, even though their leader insisted on bringing the elflings to you as soon as possible. They needed rest.”

“You did well,” said Thingol. “They should not over-extend themselves, now that they are finally safe. We can wait.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the end, it took the refugees four whole days to recover from their ordeal enough to make it to Menegroth. They were a ragtag band of mayhap a few dozen people, most of them Silvan folk from Nurwê’s tribe – the northern Nelyai. Their leader, though, was clearly of the Tatyar, of Morwê’s folk, as his black eyes revealed at once. His hair must also have been raven-black at first; yet it had turned snow white from the horrors he had clearly witnessed.

The two boys were still but elflings; and fairly young ones at that, silver-haired and hollow-faced, with haunted grey eyes that mirrored the horrors they had seen. Thingol had already been told that Kôr had been attacked by the fire-demons of Melkor that had slain Queen Tindómerel before the eyes of her young sons. Small wonder that the poor children were traumatised.

“Welcome to Doriath,” he said. “I am Elu Thingol, older brother of your adar; you perchance heard of me as Elwë. This is my wife, the Lady Melian. What are your names?”

“I am called Oropher,” said the slightly older boy. “At least that is what Ada used to call me. Nana gave me the name Galadhon. My brother is called Galathil.”

A tree-name, then. It sounder appropriate for someone whose parents had refused to leave the forests of their birthplace. Well, their mother’s birthplace in any case, for Elmö had first opened his eyes to the newborn stars at Cuiviénen.

“Welcome again, Oropher and Galathil,” said Thingol. “You are family; our home shall be your home from now on. You will lack naught that we have to offer,” he turned to the leader of the refugees. “As for you and all who have followed you: you are welcome to stay in Doriath with us as well. Would you give me your name?”

“I am Galion,” replied the ellon. “I was King Elmö’s seneschal and the tutor of his children. I have sworn a solemn oath to protect his House as long as I live, and I thank you, lord, for allowing me to continue doing so.”

“The children will need familiar faces around them,” said Queen Melian gravely. “We shall find you the others suitable places within our household.”

She did not add that it would be an easy task. There were shockingly few of them that had survived, from a city that had housed thousands.

The older boy bowed formally. “Thank you, my lady,” he answered courteously.  “One day we shall return and reclaim our kingdom. Yet until we can do so, we shall be grateful to live under your protection.”

~Fin~

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Note: Oropher did return to his birthplace indeed. In my little corner of the Ardaverse Kôr was built upon Amon Lanc – the very hill upon which later Dol Guldur would stand. In a way, his House lost their ancient home twice.