Jaynaé Marie

Chapter V: The Coming of Time (Pt. I)

We made our way through narrow corridors to rooms filled with armor, shields, spears, and bows that King Thingol had stockpiled over many years for the occasion of war. The only sounds were the clashing of metal blended with the murmurs of armor-bearers hard at work. When they were finished, we took our weapons and began our return to the surface—our armor dragging against stone walls with an eerie lullaby.

We assembled in the empty hall that before had held such promise. I thought of Oropher. I wanted to look for him but my new wardrobe made it difficult. My view remained on the empty throne. Before long, King Thingol and Elmo appeared dressed similarly to us.

“You will follow us into Ossiriand,” King Thingol said flatly; his expression stoic. “I have it on good authority that our enemy looks to start with the least protected to force out the most in the attempt to destroy us all. This is no ordinary adversary we fight. This is an evil from whence time began. Its desire to extinguish life is only matched by its desire to rule over it. It will fight to the death and so must we. The future of this world depends on it.”

King Thingol and Elmo stepped down from their thrones and became one of us. When I was able to turn my head, I could see Galathil to my left.

“We will follow Father,” he whispered. “Galadhon will accompany our uncle.”

“Where are our sons,” I asked.

“They are to remain behind,” he answered. “To protect the borders.”

I could feel relief fall upon me. It was like a cool breeze flowing through my suit. If I did not return, at least my son had a chance to live as he would remain protected by the Girdle of Melian with his mother.

As we followed the king and his brother out of Menegroth, the faces of our families looked on from behind. I dared not look for Mîrwen. I wished the last I saw her would be her smile as our son married his beloved.

With Menegroth growing smaller in the distance, the familiar path we marched brought back the time we first entered Doriath after years the wilderness. Still, beneath the girdle, things were at peace—the world beyond had yet to bear witness to the peace we had known. It was changed and we had not for we chose to live our lives in relative secrecy. The evil around us seemed like myth yet we were told of its reality. We hoped it was legend—something that had passed away never to return. Now we were about to fact this nemesis we knew very little about.

We continued our journey to the borders. When we came to it, we stopped.

“Once we cross this boundary,” King Thingol began. “Only the stars hold our fate in their hands.”

Not a sound was heard—not a breath was taken. I felt the earth move beneath my feet only to realize I was walking with other elves into another land. Unremarkable was the world I once left behind yet the air was different. There was a distant stench I was not familiar with. Further away, we heard a rumbling. I noticed we were marching in the direction of both. The closer we came, the greater the sound and the stronger the smell.

With little warning, we came upon creatures so hideous and malodorous, I nearly fainted. Armor-clad with features that could only be called scaly but oleaginous. Their numbers seemed infinite in the light of the stars.

“Fire,” I heard Elmo say. Arrows flew past my head and pierced the flesh of a few of these monsters. It only served to anger them more. They broke ranks and came at us with such fury, I barely had time to draw my sword. I felled one—then another and another and another. Their evil was palpable and their numbers never-ending. I felt I was fighting for every year of my life. Out of exhaustion or perhaps a wound, I fell down amid the corpses of elves.

“Orothôn,” I heard a voice say. I thought I was in a dream. “Orothôn, are you with us?”

I opened my eyes. I was lying on top of a dead elf. His eyes stared into mine in anguish. I quickly jumped up in horror. I looked to see Galathil standing beside me.

“Are you alright,” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” I answered. I looked around to see elves and dwarves lying motionless. The carnage seemed to go the length of the Ered Luin.

“Where is Galadhon,” I asked. “Where is Elmo? Where is King Thingol?”

“Calm down,” Galathil said. “They live. I am afraid I cannot say the same for Denethor.”

I looked around trying to find his face among many. There were so many faces—each one staring into the void of death. Suddenly I remembered my friends.

“Where is Valdôr,” I asked. “Was he not with us?”

“He is gone, Orothôn,” another voice said. It was Êlengolas. “He fell not long after Denethor.”

I could not help but cry. I was overcome with grief. My visions had come to bear the bitter fruit of death I longed feared. Êlengolas and Galathil helped me navigate through the bodies and off the field of battle. In my grief, I hardly noticed Ónarr speaking with King Thingol nearby. I had again realized his people were among the dead and my grief worsened. I longed to be with Mîrwen and Oropher. I wondered if there was any home left to return to. Just as I began to drown myself in my thoughts, an elf approached me.

“You must stay strong, Orothôn,” he said. “Or else you will perish from your grief.”

I looked up to see Iarûr.

“You are here,” I said.

“I am,” he answered. “Not all is lost. For even in darkness light must shine. Rest, my friend. For soon we will return home.”

I smiled weakly as I leaned against the trunk of a tree and felt myself drift into a deep rest. I opened my eyes to the sound of metal against metal. Startled, I looked up to see soldiers picking up weapons from the ground.

“Did I startle you,” a young elf asked me.

“Yes, but I am fine,” I answered. “Carry on.”

He nodded and went on his way. When I rose to my feet, I saw that the creatures seem to retreat the field.

“They are orcs,” Êlengolas said as he approached from behind. “That is what Iarûr calls them.

“Where are they going,” I asked.

“I do not know nor do I care,” he said angrily. “They killed many of us. They left many a widow to grieve to make orphans. I suspect we have not seen the last of them.”

“Are we to leave for Doriath,” I asked.

“Yes, he said. “We were about to depart. I was sent to tell you. How is your arm?”

“My arm,” I asked. I look to see my arm was wrapped tightly from my elbow to my shoulder. For the first time, I felt the pain. “I was wounded by an orc?”

Êlengolas looked at me confused as he shook his head.

“Come on,” he said.

We made our way toward King Thingol and Elmo eating along with Galathil and Galadhon. King Thingol nodded at me and we began our return to Doriath.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 4-7-2019

The War of the Great Jewels 💎 has begun with the first battle of Beleriand. Orothôn fights orcs for the first time. He loses two friends—Valdôr and Denethor of Ossiriand.

Chapter III: Doriath (Pt. V)

Long after the audience, I sat beneath a tree underneath the stars. It had been far too long since I had spent time outside that did not require preparing for a war against unknown forces. I thought about the naug—he was friendly enough though others found him beneath their stature in height and in existence. I thought more about his words. What did his people know about what lingered in the North?

As I thought to myself, I was making an heirloom to pass on to Oropher one day.

“I thought I would find you here,” I heard Mîrwen said.

“You spoke to Êlengolas, have you,” I said without looking away from my task.

“Of course,” she said sitting beside me. “Tell me, what is a naug?”

“A naug is rather small,” I answered.

“Is that all,” she giggled. “Oropher is rather small as well but I would hardly call him a naug.”

“Oropher is taller,” I answered putting my work away. “They are small fully grown. They come from the mountains East of Beleriand where they reside.”

“What do you think of these creatures,” she asked me.

“Our time was short and I only met one of them,” I said. “He seemed wise and was pleasant enough.”

“Nana says their kind helped to build Menegroth but said little else on the matter.”

“Has she seen them?”

“No,” Mîrwen answered. “Is it true they had a hand it its foundation?”

“Iarûr said as much,” I began. “He knows many things. I take him at his word.”

“If these creatures created such things of beauty, then they must be good at heart.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “Enough about the naugrim.”

I kissed her. She smiled at me.

“What do you wish to talk about, Orothôn,” she whispered.

“Why must we talk about anything,” I asked as I kissed her again.

“Because,” she whispered. “Talking would have a far smaller audience.”

Mîrwen motioned for me to look away. I saw a few curious elven boys watching us. I recognized the smallest as Celeborn, the youngest son of Galadhon among them—a look of perplexity across his face.

“Oropher,” he began. “Those are your parents.”

“Yes,” my son said with a smirk across his face. “So they are.”

“Why are they out here,” another chimed in.

“Because, Amdir,” I started as I rose, offering Mîrwen my hand. “We thought we were alone.”

“You should go to one of the keeps,” Eldôr said. “That is where my parents go.”

All heads turned to Eldôr.

“To do what,” Celeborn asked innocently. “What could you do up there?”

“I shall explain when you are older,” Galathil said.

“Why are you boys out here,” Mîrwen asked.

“We were sent to find the girls,” Galathil answered. “On the orders of King Thingol.”

“The girls,” I asked.

“Yes,” Eldôr said. “The Lady Lúthien is quite lively. She takes to wandering frequently. Nimeithel and Valdúril are no help at all. They give in to her every whim.”

“She takes after her mother,” Mîrwen said under her breath.

“Then we saw you,” Celeborn added with a smile.

“So you did,” Mîrwen said, leaning down to his height. “Would you care to escort a maiden into the palace?”

“Yes,” he said eagerly.

“I shall see you inside,” she said to me.

As they left, I turned to Galathil and the others.

“I know the king would not send ones so young to find his daughter unless there was discord sown between them.”

They stood in silence before me—their expressions attempting to hide their thoughts.

“No more than one would expect between a parent and a child,” Galathil answered. “But in times such as these, there is much to worry about.”

“What have you heard,” I asked. I was in awe at Galathil’s demeanor—he had grown wise beyond his years.

“Father those me the reasons why the Eldalië prepare for war. An ancient evil resides in this world.”

“What is this evil,” I asked. I was hoping he would say what others would not.

“He would not say for the time of revelation has not come.”

“Does Galadhon know when that time comes,” I asked.

Before he could answer, we heard the sound of young maidens laughing. Four beautiful elven girls spoke among themselves as they approached. They stopped abruptly.

“Galathil,” the fairest of them began. “Where you looking for me?”

“Yes, Lúthien,” he said. “You know well I was.”

I recognized all but one—a quiet elf whose eyes had fallen on Amdir as his eyes were upon her.

“I know of the dangers of this world,” Lúthien continued. “I would never wander too far from the gates. My father has little to worry about. I would never put my ladies in harm’s way.”

Lúthien’s eyes fell upon me—her wonder as disarming as her beauty.

“You are Orothôn,” she asked. “Father of Oropher?”

“Yes, Your Highness, I said softly.

She smiled at me and nodded as she motioned to Nimeithel, Valdúril, and the other as they continued on their way into the palace.

“You do not recognize her,” Oropher whispered to me. “The other elleth. She is Anadriel, sister of Eäros.”

I looked at her once more.

“So it is,” I whispered. “Time has been good to her.”

“Lúthien goes her own way,” Galathil grumbled. “For all her beauty, it will be hard to find a suitor for her.”

“She will find one on her own,” Eldôr said. “I can only imagine who he will be.”

“Come,” I began. “We need to make our way inside.”

At that moment, there came a low rumble and a shaking from beneath. It reminded me of a time before we left Lake Cuiviénen. This was something beyond this world. We looked at one another. We knew things were about to change our lives forever.

I entered my chambers to find them empty. Mîrwen must be with her mother, I thought to myself. I took from my pocket the heirloom I was creating. I managed to shape the wood I took from our first sanctuary long ago. Fashioned within pieces of nature along our journey. I placed it inside a small wooden box.

I looked around—the silence was unnerving. I went into Oropher’s chambers. He was not there. Though I felt my fear misplaced, that did not keep my mind from chaos. I decided that everyone was on their way to supper. I was not hungry. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes.

There was destruction and flames everywhere. The clashing of swords and shields rang throughout the land. Tears fell from the eyes of mothers and their children. Amidst the battle cries, I heard a voice calling my name.

“Orothôn,” the voice called to me.

I look around but could not find the source. I realized I was standing in a sea of the fallen. The voice continued to call my name.

“Where are you,” I yelled over the sounds of war. “Where are you?”

I looked in all directions but could not find the voice.

“I am here,” I heard the voice in my ear. I turned to see an elf with golden hair and soft grey eyes.

“Who are you,” I asked him. He said nothing. He looked toward the battles. I asked him again.

“Who are you?”

He looked at me. There was a familiarity I saw in him.

“I am Orothôn,” he said. “But known by another name to last forever.”

“By what name,” I asked. “Tell me.”

As he was about to speak, all things fell into darkness. I was alone in nothingness.

“Who are you,” I yelled. “Where are you?”

“I am here,” a voice said. “Look at me.”

I opened my eyes to see Mîrwen looking down at me.

“Were you having a vision, Orothôn,” she asked.

“No,” I lied sitting up. “I am not as you.”

“I am not alone in that gift,” she said smiling. “Some choose to use it while others choose to ignore it. Then there are those that do not have the choice. They will see what the Heavens wish them to see.”

She slipped behind her dressing courier and emerged ready for the evening.

“What did you see,” she asked sitting beside me.

“It was not pleasant,” I answered. “Nothing I would dare tell another.“

“There is nothing pleasant about war, Orothôn.”

“How would you know,” I asked.

She looked at me—her eyes filling with tears.

“I have seen what you have seen,” she whispered. “I know the horrors that will come to pass.”

“Then I will spare you the details,” I said embracing her. “We will keep them to ourselves.”–TKWR Trilogy Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller 01-25-2019.

Orothôn and Mîrwen have their romantic moment interrupted by some elven boys—a young Celeborn among them; Galathil has some words with his cousin, Lúthien; Orothôn has a disturbing vision with a familiar face from Book II. War is on the horizon.