Origins - Ch. 3
~ Ch. 3 ~
*Doriath*
“We were too late.” Oropher brushed his hair out of his eyes, leaving a dark red smear on the fair skin. “Do any live yet?”
“Your father fell protecting Dior’s sons, Oropher and we believe that the twins were taken by the cursed one’s servants.”
“Taken!” Oropher’s blue eyes widened in shock. “It cannot be - they were only children.”
“Yes. There are many search parties out looking for them - I heard that Prince Maedhros is leading one - but no-one knows where they are.”
Oropher lowered head for a moment, and then looked up with his expression shuttered.
“Take me to my father, please Galion.”
Galion turned and led his new king along the darkened bloody halls until they finally stopped in front of a small nook. Oropher looked down, kneeling carefully beside his father and saw that someone had the forethought to wrap his father in a rough shroud. In all his imaginings, Oropher had never thought this day would come-when he would be left without his father.
“He almost made it to the tunnel before they caught up to him,” Galion said softly.
Oropher carefully smoothed back the matted blond hair that was partially obscuring his father’s face. His father had been one of Dior’s best fighters and most loyal subjects, which is why Dior had asked him to guard his family. It had been a position of great trust and greater honor, and Oropher had never felt prouder as he had on the day when he watched his father formally accept the position. Yet controlling himself, he looked around the small area and his eyes caught sight of a tiny dark hair at the back of the nook.
“Perhaps he did,” Oropher said slowly. “Come, Galion. The hidden latch must be very near.”
Hurriedly running their hands over the walls, it was only a matter of moments before the latch was triggered and the back of the nook opened to reveal a small dark space that held two small bodies.
“Are… are they…?”
Oropher laid a gentle hand on the delicate frames and was relieved to discover they were still breathing, although very shallowly.
“They are alive, Galion. Praise Eru for that.”
“Then the sons of Dior …”
“We have found orphans, Galion.” Oropher stated, even as he picked up one of the twins, and gestured for Galion to do the same. “Two more nameless orphans of Doriath, who lost their family in this cursed slaughter.”
“Yes, my lord.” Galion inclined his head respectfully. “It is as you say. Two nameless orphans.”
They carefully gathered up the semi-conscious elflings and carried away from the carnage and into a part of the caves that had been turned into a shelter.
And so it was that the sons of Dior were finally declared lost. It was later said that Prince Maedhros did not give up the search for them until winter came full upon him, and he was forced to concede defeat at last. Ever after, their sad little ghosts haunted his days and nights, but none could have ever known how it would affect his actions in the future.
The Sindar left Doriath, never to return.
*****
Although it had taken little time for the refugees to gather a few belongings and leave, they no longer had a formal leader. Most of the traditional candidates had died and it was only a few of the soldiers who had any real skill at organizing such an exodus.
The people who had scattered slowly came back to search for their missing loved ones too often found more reason for despair. The senior commanders gave orders that they were to salvage what they could from the ruins - primarily food, clothing and what could be used for shelter. A few old carts were found to be in good repair, as well as the horses and oxen needed to pull them, so that the wounded, along with the elleth and the youngest elflings could also ride in them if need be.
Oropher, Amdír and Malgalad had also determined that room would be made on the carts for the most valuable books and family histories, which included the most recent census records and tax rolls that could be found. After an additional debate, it was decided to include gold and small coins as well.
“After all,” Oropher said, “we do not know how we will be received by the other people - especially the Noldor. We may be refugees, but we must not depend on the charity of strangers.”
The people and the soldiers gathered together on a rest day, nearly a month after they began walking from the ruined city. There had been enough time wasted in flight; they needed to decide on their future. It was impossible to keep wandering aimlessly.
“We need to decide what to do.” Oropher announced to them. Oropher looked around uncertainly; he was used to giving orders, not making speeches. “We are far enough that the Fëanorians will not trouble us but we need to decide where we will live now, and more importantly, where we will shelter for the winter.”
He paused, and everyone turned to look at him expectantly. For the first time he had a sense of what it was to be more than a mere officer in an army; it appeared they looked on him as their de facto leader.
“We can try and build shelters here. But time is short and the winters are hard. It can be done though.” He then continued, “Or we can go on to Lindon and ask for help from the Noldor and their High King.”
Some people looked askance at this but none raised any objection, though they had not agreed to the first part of his plan about building shelters where they stood. Oropher was feeling frustrated; he did not expect to be a leader but he did not expect to be followed blindly either.
“We will talk again after we eat. Perhaps some of you would have other suggestions. There is much to be decided but we do not have the luxury of time.”
Two of his comrades, Amdír and Malgalad had walked off to one side and were talking quietly in low, measured tones. Oropher watched patiently, knowing they would come to him and talk.
“Oropher?”
“Yes, Amdír?”
“We - that is, Malgalad and I - would like to travel on and find the forest that lies to the east, beyond the mountains. Perhaps we can find more of our lost kindred and settle there.”
“That is acceptable to me,” Oropher said. “But there are too many of us to make such a journey. Are you planning to take a larger party to explore? For I deem it would be safer that way.”
“Yes, if any wish to come with us.” Amdír replied. “I would like to travel as far as we can before we have to make camp for the winter.”
“That is a very wise decision.” Oropher suddenly felt very old and tired. “The seasons will change all too soon, I fear.”
For the rest of the day and long into the night, the people talked over this plan of splitting their small group of survivors even further into two separate bands.
At last it was decided that the group would consist of no more than thirty people, and they would leave at dawn on the third day. There were more ellon who chose to go but there were several ellith who wished to join as well. Although Amdír was reluctant to allow them, in the end he admitted privately that he had no valid reason to refuse them.
Oropher and Amdír spent the next day dividing the supplies and weapons. Oropher insisted Amdír’s group needed them more since they were heading into the wilderness while Amdír argued that it was the ellith and elflings who needed extra protection since the road to Lindon was hardly to be considered to be safe either, and they must be protected at all costs.
It was finally decided that Amdír would take extra arrows for their bows, as well as keeping any personal swords, a few of the larger ponies to be used as pack animals, leaving the horses behind.
“Safe journey, cousins.” Oropher grasped Amdír’s arm in the traditional warrior’s grasp, then suddenly pulled the man into a rough hug. “If the Noldor king is kind, we will winter there and try to find you later in the summer. If he denies us… well, we will leave word there anyway.”
“He will surely accept you.” Amdír’s deep voice was uncertain as he looked deeply into his cousin’s eyes. “Take care, Oropher. I do not think I will trust the Noldor ever again. But perhaps all will be well for you. It is said that the High King does not have any real liking for the Fëanorians either. Perhaps he will be sympathetic to your plight.”
“Until summer then, Amdír.”
“Until summer, Oropher.”
~*~