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đť•żhese parts of late the wild dogs of Sauron dared to roam, eyes glaring in the dusk and dawn and night, but one will hunt them, there between Sirion and Narog. The woods are stirred, with dim cries and horns blowing and hounds barking through the trees, with bow and spear and horde, sooner than the sun rose Celegorm had set out. Forth he sent his hounds, and among them Huan not last, to rouse the wolves that in the forest snarled and crept. His host found many and what fled not he drove away or felled.
Yet they flew not only but gave chase, or else something jumped before them. Their master saw from afar another creature leap, a looking back, and his hounds baying after. By their throats they took the wolves and drew out of them blood and breath ere Celegorm's spear shot them. But Huan followed his sight, his eyes glittering like jewels and teeth flashing like ivory, and pursued the largest and ahead of the pack of wolves into the trees.
Outside of Menegroth where politics and reminders of the enemy always came, Doriath was a peaceful place. Sleepy, protected by their Queen's great power and the shade of the ancient trees that cloaked them further still from the perils of the world. It was not difficult for an elf who concerned herself more with the comings and goings of the seasons, the migrations of deer and birds to forget, therefore, that even stepping a little beyond the bounds of the Kingdom of her birth could be a dangerous endeavor.
The shadow of Melkor lingered in the minds of everyone, of course, yet having never set eyes upon any of his wicked creations and seeing the path clear ahead of her, the sound of a bird not yet known to her echoing in the distance... well, perhaps Mithiel had not thought on the consequences of stepping out of the girdle as she carefully should have.
And she was fine, for a day, she travelled lightly with her bow tied to her back and her dagger on her belt. Listening and calling to the strange bird who flew ever north-west even as she pursued it, singing to it in turn and hoping to lure it back so she might meet this new creature and take note of it. She stopped only when the bird did, resting on a high perch of a tree to try to surmise its location as ever the sight of it remained fleeting.
It was the second day, with Doriath well out of easy reach when she noticed that the world was oddly quiet. As if the animals, big and small, were too scared to be heard. Except for the bird who flitted into her line of sight and then darted away again, dragging her attention back to her pursuit and away from the strange uneasiness growing in her heart.
It was not yet mid-morning when she first heard anything other than the bird, which was happily singing and preening its red and black feathers on a ledge she could not reach without scaring it away again. The noise was distant at first, like thunder, but coming from the ground, over the distant hill.
Orcs? she wondered, not truly considering that it might be worse. Though that would be bad enough, as she had managed to thus far avoid the fell creatures of Melkor her entire long life and was not experienced in battle outside of a training arena. It was only when the wolves came over the brow of the hill she realised both that there was no cover for her where the bird had led her and that one wolf she might be able to take, but there were several and all caught sight of her at once, almost as if they had somehow perceived her presence from the other side of the hill.
She gave the bird one last glance and took the bow from her back and sprinted for the copse of trees she could see perhaps a mile away. It was not home, Melian could not save her now unless by some miracle she looked outside of the Kingdom, but Mithiel was light and quick on her feet and had a head start on the beasts and so she ran as she had never run before and she had never met a dog who could climb as easily as an elf.
Fear filled her for the first time in her long life as she ran, dodging what obstacles she could and leaping over the rest as though she was as much a deer as she was an elf. It was likely imagination only, but she felt at times as if the wind itself aided her, lifting her more easily where she jumped and never pressing against her as she ran.
Her thoughts were so consumed by the snapping and snarling of the wolves who gained on her and the promise offered by the height of the trees ahead that she did not notice when horses and hounds joined the fray, at first distantly then closer and closer. She dared not look back, and would not have even if she had heard them for one slip was sure to be her death and she was not yet prepared to meet Mandos or any of the Valar. She reached the trees with a last burst of speed, the fastest wolf almost nipping at her heels as she leapt once more, but this time up into the trees where she pulled herself at last onto a thick branch and then scrambled to climb one higher before she looked down from where she stood on her ashy bough, nocking an arrow and taking a slow breath to steady herself.
Only then did she see first the hound as he burst forward, and then looking back further she saw the host that followed. It felt as though she was seeing Oromë come to save her from the twisted creatures of Melkor's hands, though she doubted that was who truly pursued the wolves. Her folly did not deserve such a rescue when Middle-Earth itself lay unaided in far greater trials. She loosed the arrow she had been holding, catching the wolf in the flank and nocking another, looking for a spot she could shoot without risking the hound who now tore at the beast, though she was not sure he needed her help at all.
𝕱earsome were the jaws that snapped and claws that tore, but only to the mightiest of wolves should Huan fall, no arrow to slay him and without his mortal foe among these beasts. Death he dealt the creature before her eyes.
After Huan soon came the other hounds that followed the huntsman's horn and no wolf and behind them their master on horse. Tall and strong he sat and he had not lost an arrow from his quiver, nor suffered any mark. None of the Valar now rode into Middle-Earth and long since, too as the Eldar counted their years, had Celegorm been a follower. Yet even through breaking and flight he had never departed from what he had learned with the Vala and neither had he forsaken Oromë's gift. Huan came beside him.
Here, both had espied the maiden hiding. Now all wolves were slain but the dogs in Celegorm's following stood at the bole of the tree and would not permit it if she sprang away or sent an arrow at them, and the eyes that met hers beheld not the mirth of Tulkas, winning battle just and glorious. Flaming with a light of wrath they twinned rather the Lord of Forests.
Then Celegorm spoke, not in the language he was native to but under the ban he as well perceived. âť› Under threat do you go, alone and whence? Come tell! âťś A guess he may make and even if she would leave things unsaid.
The hound she would have to thank later, for commanded to her aid or doing so of his own will he deserved no less praise than his master. More, perhaps, by her reckoning at least. Mithiel had forever had the most warmth in her heart for the creatures who filled the Arda.
His master was another matter, for though she was sure she had not met him, now she saw him closer she was convinced he was one often whispered about around evening fires. A Noldor, at least, of that she had no doubt, but his great stature and the manner of his arrival made her think she somehow chanced upon one of the most notorious of all Noldor, one of the sons themselves.
She looked from him back to the hounds beneath her and put away her bow and slipped the arrow back into her quiver. As she did she wondered at the possibility of her being able to run through the treetops fast enough to get away, but this was more of an outcropping of trees than a forest and between hounds and who she guessed to be the third son of FĂ«anor, Celegorm, she did not favour her chances at more than a brief diversion.
'Thank you,' Mithiel says first, not answering his questions right away. Could she tell a son of FĂ«anor that she was out alone, unlikely to be missed? And for what purpose she had gone north of the girdle? It seemed to her both better to be truthful and also that he might find her to be foolish beyond measure. She had not even brought with her a horse, after all, or more than a small satchel of supplies. 'Your hounds are very fierce and brave,' better to talk of the dogs than the odd bird that lead her out of safety and the odder elf who, despite being old enough to know better, followed it.
'I am from Doriath,' this she offered up, too, as he would likely well know from the manner of her dress, her tunic and britches were in the style of her people who went adventuring from time to time and if her clothes would not give her away, no doubt her speech did.
But she did not know what else to say - much of her wanted to speak the truth and be done with it, but she did not entirely trust his claim of friendship. Her King had long scorned the Noldor, and not without cause, and here she was aloft in a tree with his hounds waiting for her or the word of their master and she did not even know if she was fit to judge if it was safe to climb down again, or if she wanted too. What if he still took offence from Thingol's sanctions and found some way to make an example of her?
She looked pale, her dark eyes searching for some answer that she could not yet find. Fear still pricked at her and her heart still raced despite the steady way she forced herself to breathe.
'Those were the wolves of Melkor?' she asked as she glanced down at the ravaged corpses that had a strangeness about them that was unfamiliar to her. 'Do they trouble your home often?' Anything to not confess her foolishness and isolation until she had more of a grasp on his intent.
đť•łe may laugh at it, that he and his should already have become grey ghosts whispered about in the dark, but fey for it would come to be a cruel truth. So long as she spoke not, did not her guesses then remind that Celegorm's arrows should find her swiftly, if she fled?
In that time much he learned despite her silence or rightly what he had discerned before ever asking. Not merely that she came out of Doriath but also that she came alone. His hounds had not taken up another scent. Why she had passed out of the girdle, that wall of shadow and bewilderment so as it kept even the darkest foes away, he knew not. Yet her fear as he perceived, that all her fright was not for the wolves that had come upon her Celegorm also guessed.
He knew that Thingol had little love for the Ă‘oldor and that the people would heed their king in such matters. Indeed her thanks Celegorm took to be less earnest even than the answers that she did not give. His brow creased then and the menace in his gaze glared yet, but now for what the maiden did have said.
âť› Would ye in Doriath keep him by that name! âťś Proud were all the Ă‘oldor in their speech and Celegorm not least. To hear the Black Foe named thus displeased him. Yea, what scorn Thingol had for them the sons of FĂ«anor also held against him readily.
But now that he had been roused and spoken he would tell her of the wolves. âť› They heeded a lesser master, but no less foul he is than Morgoth himself. Too bold have he and they become and skulk by night ever closer to our hold, Nargothrond. âťś And saying so Celegorm was more keen ever than before. He knew her answer then but asked. âť› Had they come past the Girdle and do you hunt them here? âťś
It seemed she was to stay in her tree and make of it a new home, for her "friend" before her set her nerves on edge and even a glance at the hounds he commanded told her what damage he could do without so much as touching an arrow or moving his horse.
The more he looked upon her, the more she was certain her guess was correct, yet the venom in his voice from what name she picked from the list of many for the dark shadow that loomed ever closer to them surprised her and it showed plainly on her face.
'The enemy has many names, I picked but one.' she said, quietly though he would hear her even if she whispered instead. 'If I caused offence, I did not intend it. I have no need to speak of him often.' trees, after all, did not care which of the names the great shadow went by and she was so seldom in the city that new tales of the horrors of war seldom came to her ears.
'No. No evil pricks at the girdle, looking for weakness. I came of my own will, on a different sort of hunt.' then, more because she does not want to start a fight with someone seemingly quick-tempered than because of any sort of trust she adds: 'I sought a bird, if you must know. I had never heard its song nor seen its face before but it would not come into the wood and so I came out.'
Steading herself against the tree trunk she then calls out a soft, sweet bird song which is answered from the direction from which she came by one just like it.
'Just a bird, Lord. Nothing more.' She doubted at all that he thought her a hunter, no one amongst the elves would look at her and see such.
đť•żhat his own father first had named the enemy Moringotto, Celegorm may claim in truth. But then he thought to not reveal himself as more than a Lord of Nargothrond to one he judged as knowing little of what passed without her home. Less he knew of her thoughts than of the deeds that she sought to keep under veil. Now though he learnt a little more of Doriath in that time, if he too said less than was his mind.
âť› Then well and safe the realm of King Thingol is yet kept. May still in these troubled days come no peril near to him and his. âťś He spoke with reverence but without fear or anger and last the forbidding gleam in his eyes faded.
He had judged soon that she was not a huntress for even the Sindar of Doriath clothed themselves in other raiment and bore different bows and arrows when they would game boar or deer. When birdsong came back to them Celegorm turned his head. None of Oromë's gives he had forgotten. He knew the bird and that its striking black and red it moulted to dull colors in the autumn, and why it sang back to the maiden. His gaze became soft with recollection while he looked away, though soon it hardened again when he spoke.
❛ Would that the birds followed after your queen and sang then as they do when Vána comes. But the Valar in their loftiness will not fare to these lands! ❜ Alas! Not even the echo would they hear of Celegorm's ire as he spoke this, as by the doom upon the Ñoldor.
Finally he returns somewhere between that resentment and kinder memory. His horse with Celegorm on its back takes a few paces and his hounds too, as well Huan, give way beneath the tree. âť› That bird will not come to you, safe to see who imitates its song without meaning. âťś
It was hard on her to hold her tongue before this strange elf-lord whose moods tossed like a tempest in his eyes. There were so many questions that wanted to spill forth with each passing thought he shared or revelation he unveiled. Yet it was not the done thing, not for one of her age and relative commonality to spill forth like a river after the first snow melt and drown a lord with all that bubbled up in her thoughts. Several times, she looked as if she was going to speak before she thought better.
'I wish the same for you and yours,' and if he thought her genuine in her thanks and well wishes, she did not care, for she knew her own heart and that she could never wish them any ill. Not even if that ill was earned. 'Nargothrond is said to be a remarkable place.' not unlike her own Menegroth, who though she knew very well she could not love the same way she did the forest or the wild places. 'With such defenders I do not think it will be caught unawares.' In that, she may, perhaps, mostly mean the hounds.
The Valar were more of a mystery to her, both known and unknowable to those who had never crossed the sea. She had never spoken directly to one who might have seen them and it seemed he had, though it was doubtlessly a sore subject and she did not wish to touch it now, or ever. She doubted she would ever know him well enough to dare.
And in many ways Mithiel was like her Queen. Not so much as the fair Luthien, of course, for no Maia or other great blood flowed through her but she had the same soft heart for nature, and the same sort of fellowship that meant most beasts would harken to her call if given a little time and ever she had a talent for learning their tongues.
'You know of this bird? I have never seen them near Doriath, and though I do not wander abroad I am often by the edge of the wood.' even with the hounds and Celegorm somewhat withdrawn and the room clear for her to jump down, she does not yet fully descend from her place of safety, only dropping to the branch below where she stood, drawn by curiosity more than trust.
'I would know its song's meaning if it would not flit away so often,' there she sounded both defensive and sad. 'I have never had a creature flee me thus.' It had not felt foul and so she did not imagine it was a spy of the enemy, yet it acted strangely and she could not account for its presence.
đť•żhough he was a as a lord of the realm he did not seem to care for singing glory over Nargothrond, and less still Menegroth. Felagund loved one before the other, but more now the one. To Celegorm, to Curufin and their people, it was a refuge from flame and not the home that they had built upon the plain of Himlad. Yes, the days were warmer by Narog, but all his hunts here of foul things. He said nothing for her well wishes.
Yet then he nearly laughed. No, he gave a scoff, and even his horse stirred a bit, still not of glee but for the reason she tried after all. To bound both blind and deaf after a bird! And now she sulked that it had not waited on her.
âť› That bird had understood a danger ye did not. âťś And in the air it had been safe from the wolves chasing her below, so much Celegorm guessed. All beings fairly created understood some of the wickedness that came from a loathsome conception, all of them if they knew not to fight it then at least to flee. That it belonged not to anything foul he knew.
In Valinor and when the Ă‘oldor spoke as they would he called it Laituilindo. Under the ban: âť› Laeduilin. And if you had not seen it in your woods that is because it does not live and only travels here, and it will perch in tall trees beyond your reach and sight unless you know it there. âťś
She might feel more defensive if she ever held any notion that Celegorm may have held her in esteem, or if she cared if he did, but she was not quite that naive and so his scoff merely makes her brow rise just slightly before she forces her face to settle on a more neutral expression.
Perhaps the bird still understood a danger she did not entirely grasp, for though in the distance she saw a dart of red and heard another soft song it did not come with her like it had all of yesterday and the morning, as if waiting for her to play chase with it. It did not seem to wait as it had the last month on the edge of the forest, daring her to come out of her homeland and taste the wide world for the first time since before the girdle was made. Instead, it flitted away out of even elvish sight with one last call, perhaps a farewell.
Laeduilin, she repeated in her mind, wishing to add it to her sketches tucked away in her satchel but sensing now was not the time and place with his gaze so firmly upon her.
'Thank you, once more, for saving me and for sharing the name of my fleeting friend.' for she would not stop trying to befriend them, it was against her nature to not want to know all that she could of the world. Perhaps he would take her thanks to heart this time and know she was not one to lie or mock. She had never lived in a world where these skills were needed.
Looking again at the ground, at the hounds, the horse and his lord-master Mithiel decided then that if she did not go down of her own accord he may grow tired and force her to the ground by one means or another so at last she jumped off the branch and landed effortlessly in the circle of hounds. Immediately, Mithiel missed the extra height. She was tall enough compared to some but for an elf she had always felt small, and now smaller still on the ground with no excuse to climb the tree again or otherwise flee from all the eyes set upon her.
'I am Mithiel,' she says, at last, not asking him his name both because she was sure she knew it, and that if he had wanted to offer it he likely would have already. 'In case you wish to tell of the foolish woman who would go alone to speak to strange creatures, as if the world were safe, who you saved from herself on your hunt.'
Not only their languages had he learnt, once upon and in a grander house, but as well of the movements of birds and beasts. They spoke more than words, even, than pleasant songs. If Mithiel told of the things she guess the bird with thought of her he would scoff once more. What had come to her as a call to venture Celegorm heard only as one whistling as it made its own way. Careless and free and quickly now forgetting danger as it went further away.
In Elvenhome he had also lived such days.
From craning his neck up, he followed as she jumped down. Whether she came this way or not until he went, their talk of birds then seemed at an end. Surely Celegorm was taller and by much, even if he dismounted his horse, and perhaps looked even prouder in the face when looking up. Not less, at least, when at her guess he simply said, âť› I do not wish to. âťś
And tinged by something sinister his answer may have been, when he did now not command his hounds, all with glowing eyes and sharp white teeth (and the great, dead wolf between them) to move still away. But Huan went, without word from Celegorm it seemed, and like a Captain took two others of the pack. But Celegorm took her thanks this time. âť› Would ye, in Doriath, tell of this meet? âťś Then, he guessed, she would like his name.
If ever she had the chance she was going to thank that hound, for while his master looked down upon her and seemed to care not that she was surrounded by hounds who were only a little less frightening than their fell counterparts, it was the hound who called his friends back away from her and for the first time since she had run she managed to take a real breath.
It did not help Mithiel with the son of FĂ«anor who looked down upon her from his mighty steed, but it meant she had only one place to look instead of several as she tried to take the measure of not just what he had said but how he had said it. For from a more friendly source that might have meant I would not wish to embarrass you, but it sounds different from his tongue to her ears in a way that renews the deeply unsettled feeling she had about her when most of her vision was crowded by white teeth and bright eyes.
Even what he asked her made her skin crawl, uncertain if the better answer was yay or nay and wishing she could ask him plainly without causing some further offence.
'That I was saved by a great and mighty hunter?' she said, 'it is a good story of a valiant deed.' so, yes, maybe, when the sting of fear wore off.
If she knew his name then she could well guess at the flightiness of his moods... and if she had not yet understood it otherwise. She was, at that, more right than not that Celegorm cared not to shield her or her name from embarrassment, nor himself to be cloaked in valour; regarding lonely hunts at least.
Yet his brother's words, and though Curufin was not with him, he knew full well. More crafty in thinking of the talk that might follow or the deeds that may benefit them was he. Such luck, perhaps, the she had not his talk also to spar with. These thoughts of his would not be read, but Celegorm had not done any ill on her nor would, no matter that Mithiel stood as a spooked doe in the circle.
For a good moment now silence had laid over the round. Then, as he spoke, she would find his tone different from before. Not so removed and not so over-lordly as he sat in the saddle.
âť› Then, if and when, name in some valour Celegorm of Nargothrond. âťś To Thingol, he thought but surely said not.
It is by force of will alone that Mithiel keeps her expression from saying the I know that her lips would never dare speak in a circumstance such as she found herself in now. Still, he might catch a small glint of knowing in her eyes before she ducks her head in a very small bow.
'Lord Celegorm,' she said with as much respect and warmth as she had within her to manage, which for one of her people was a surprising amount. There was little love between the Sindar and the Noldor in these days. 'I will be sure to always recount the tale truly,' if she told anyone at all. Her parents would be beside themselves if they knew what she had done - and worse, she didn't know if it was the wolves for the son of FĂ«anor who would set their hearts to thundering more.
She could only count her blessings that he did not have his brothers with him, she may well have taken her chance with running if their numbers were greater.
Her eyes fixated on her arrow still stuck in the wolf's flank, and then she stepped forward to pull it free, the noise and the new stream of steadily cooling blood making her nose flare in disgust but she quickly cleaned it on a rag from her pocket and put it away with the others.
'I would not keep you from home or further hunting, whichever way you are headed, my lord.'
đť•´ndeed he searched for some part of it on her face, feigned unknowing or burked hostility, and seemed to come away with something. Over all Celegorm cared little for the valour he had asked and least for Thingol's nicety if it were to be only in lame speech.
And what would the sons of FĂ«anor have done to a Sinda, who held neither some power to her name nor even one of the Silmarils?
Celegorm would have returned to his hunt as well. These pelts, even if they came off the backs of Sauron's creatures, needed not be left to waste into the earth of the land. But Huan had not yet returned. So, he did not give way though Mithiel bid him take his leave and surely that seemed no less oppressive in her eyes than what their talk had been so far.
âť› Ye may not, squandering any valour I would have done. âťś Yet, more than to reminder her of her little power, this time he explained. âť› For if another stray wolf came upon you how might ye defend yourself? âťś
He was not wrong. There could be more wolves. There could be so many beyond some distant hill that the world writhed black and thick with them and she would never know of it unless she came across them or some messenger warned her off. Yet, even though he had no need or motive to do her harm, was he not a wolf as well of a different sort?
She turned over the bloodied cloth in her hands, not looking at it but unable to escape the metallic stench that emanated from it. She wasn't looking at Celegorm either, but instead at his horse. It was easier to think if she focused only on his animals, the steady heartbeat, the soft puff of breath. The way its long tail flicked and ears twitched, listening to both of them. Even the hounds at least had clear motives when they looked like they might eat her. Mithiel could not say the same for their master.
There were only a few moments between his question and her reply but it seemed, to her, to draw on forever.
'The trees have long been my friends, and I am not unarmed, my Lord. It is a day and a half's walk home.' It could be fine, or there could be wolves, or orcs, or other goblins and twisted things. There could even be folk with malicious intent. She had never in her life been this far north and could not hope to guess but she did trust in fate at least for the most part. 'I would not ask you to delay your hunt so long.' For the elves, it was almost nothing in time but his prey would move or hide or make trouble.
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like a deer he sprang away, through the trees he sped
Yet they flew not only but gave chase, or else something jumped before them. Their master saw from afar another creature leap, a looking back, and his hounds baying after. By their throats they took the wolves and drew out of them blood and breath ere Celegorm's spear shot them. But Huan followed his sight, his eyes glittering like jewels and teeth flashing like ivory, and pursued the largest and ahead of the pack of wolves into the trees.
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The shadow of Melkor lingered in the minds of everyone, of course, yet having never set eyes upon any of his wicked creations and seeing the path clear ahead of her, the sound of a bird not yet known to her echoing in the distance... well, perhaps Mithiel had not thought on the consequences of stepping out of the girdle as she carefully should have.
And she was fine, for a day, she travelled lightly with her bow tied to her back and her dagger on her belt. Listening and calling to the strange bird who flew ever north-west even as she pursued it, singing to it in turn and hoping to lure it back so she might meet this new creature and take note of it. She stopped only when the bird did, resting on a high perch of a tree to try to surmise its location as ever the sight of it remained fleeting.
It was the second day, with Doriath well out of easy reach when she noticed that the world was oddly quiet. As if the animals, big and small, were too scared to be heard. Except for the bird who flitted into her line of sight and then darted away again, dragging her attention back to her pursuit and away from the strange uneasiness growing in her heart.
It was not yet mid-morning when she first heard anything other than the bird, which was happily singing and preening its red and black feathers on a ledge she could not reach without scaring it away again. The noise was distant at first, like thunder, but coming from the ground, over the distant hill.
Orcs? she wondered, not truly considering that it might be worse. Though that would be bad enough, as she had managed to thus far avoid the fell creatures of Melkor her entire long life and was not experienced in battle outside of a training arena. It was only when the wolves came over the brow of the hill she realised both that there was no cover for her where the bird had led her and that one wolf she might be able to take, but there were several and all caught sight of her at once, almost as if they had somehow perceived her presence from the other side of the hill.
She gave the bird one last glance and took the bow from her back and sprinted for the copse of trees she could see perhaps a mile away. It was not home, Melian could not save her now unless by some miracle she looked outside of the Kingdom, but Mithiel was light and quick on her feet and had a head start on the beasts and so she ran as she had never run before and she had never met a dog who could climb as easily as an elf.
Fear filled her for the first time in her long life as she ran, dodging what obstacles she could and leaping over the rest as though she was as much a deer as she was an elf. It was likely imagination only, but she felt at times as if the wind itself aided her, lifting her more easily where she jumped and never pressing against her as she ran.
Her thoughts were so consumed by the snapping and snarling of the wolves who gained on her and the promise offered by the height of the trees ahead that she did not notice when horses and hounds joined the fray, at first distantly then closer and closer. She dared not look back, and would not have even if she had heard them for one slip was sure to be her death and she was not yet prepared to meet Mandos or any of the Valar. She reached the trees with a last burst of speed, the fastest wolf almost nipping at her heels as she leapt once more, but this time up into the trees where she pulled herself at last onto a thick branch and then scrambled to climb one higher before she looked down from where she stood on her ashy bough, nocking an arrow and taking a slow breath to steady herself.
Only then did she see first the hound as he burst forward, and then looking back further she saw the host that followed. It felt as though she was seeing Oromë come to save her from the twisted creatures of Melkor's hands, though she doubted that was who truly pursued the wolves. Her folly did not deserve such a rescue when Middle-Earth itself lay unaided in far greater trials. She loosed the arrow she had been holding, catching the wolf in the flank and nocking another, looking for a spot she could shoot without risking the hound who now tore at the beast, though she was not sure he needed her help at all.
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After Huan soon came the other hounds that followed the huntsman's horn and no wolf and behind them their master on horse. Tall and strong he sat and he had not lost an arrow from his quiver, nor suffered any mark. None of the Valar now rode into Middle-Earth and long since, too as the Eldar counted their years, had Celegorm been a follower. Yet even through breaking and flight he had never departed from what he had learned with the Vala and neither had he forsaken Oromë's gift. Huan came beside him.
Here, both had espied the maiden hiding. Now all wolves were slain but the dogs in Celegorm's following stood at the bole of the tree and would not permit it if she sprang away or sent an arrow at them, and the eyes that met hers beheld not the mirth of Tulkas, winning battle just and glorious. Flaming with a light of wrath they twinned rather the Lord of Forests.
Then Celegorm spoke, not in the language he was native to but under the ban he as well perceived. âť› Under threat do you go, alone and whence? Come tell! âťś A guess he may make and even if she would leave things unsaid.
âť› A friend ye have found. âťś
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His master was another matter, for though she was sure she had not met him, now she saw him closer she was convinced he was one often whispered about around evening fires. A Noldor, at least, of that she had no doubt, but his great stature and the manner of his arrival made her think she somehow chanced upon one of the most notorious of all Noldor, one of the sons themselves.
She looked from him back to the hounds beneath her and put away her bow and slipped the arrow back into her quiver. As she did she wondered at the possibility of her being able to run through the treetops fast enough to get away, but this was more of an outcropping of trees than a forest and between hounds and who she guessed to be the third son of FĂ«anor, Celegorm, she did not favour her chances at more than a brief diversion.
'Thank you,' Mithiel says first, not answering his questions right away. Could she tell a son of FĂ«anor that she was out alone, unlikely to be missed? And for what purpose she had gone north of the girdle? It seemed to her both better to be truthful and also that he might find her to be foolish beyond measure. She had not even brought with her a horse, after all, or more than a small satchel of supplies. 'Your hounds are very fierce and brave,' better to talk of the dogs than the odd bird that lead her out of safety and the odder elf who, despite being old enough to know better, followed it.
'I am from Doriath,' this she offered up, too, as he would likely well know from the manner of her dress, her tunic and britches were in the style of her people who went adventuring from time to time and if her clothes would not give her away, no doubt her speech did.
But she did not know what else to say - much of her wanted to speak the truth and be done with it, but she did not entirely trust his claim of friendship. Her King had long scorned the Noldor, and not without cause, and here she was aloft in a tree with his hounds waiting for her or the word of their master and she did not even know if she was fit to judge if it was safe to climb down again, or if she wanted too. What if he still took offence from Thingol's sanctions and found some way to make an example of her?
She looked pale, her dark eyes searching for some answer that she could not yet find. Fear still pricked at her and her heart still raced despite the steady way she forced herself to breathe.
'Those were the wolves of Melkor?' she asked as she glanced down at the ravaged corpses that had a strangeness about them that was unfamiliar to her. 'Do they trouble your home often?' Anything to not confess her foolishness and isolation until she had more of a grasp on his intent.
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In that time much he learned despite her silence or rightly what he had discerned before ever asking. Not merely that she came out of Doriath but also that she came alone. His hounds had not taken up another scent. Why she had passed out of the girdle, that wall of shadow and bewilderment so as it kept even the darkest foes away, he knew not. Yet her fear as he perceived, that all her fright was not for the wolves that had come upon her Celegorm also guessed.
He knew that Thingol had little love for the Ă‘oldor and that the people would heed their king in such matters. Indeed her thanks Celegorm took to be less earnest even than the answers that she did not give. His brow creased then and the menace in his gaze glared yet, but now for what the maiden did have said.
âť› Would ye in Doriath keep him by that name! âťś Proud were all the Ă‘oldor in their speech and Celegorm not least. To hear the Black Foe named thus displeased him. Yea, what scorn Thingol had for them the sons of FĂ«anor also held against him readily.
But now that he had been roused and spoken he would tell her of the wolves. âť› They heeded a lesser master, but no less foul he is than Morgoth himself. Too bold have he and they become and skulk by night ever closer to our hold, Nargothrond. âťś And saying so Celegorm was more keen ever than before. He knew her answer then but asked. âť› Had they come past the Girdle and do you hunt them here? âťś
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The more he looked upon her, the more she was certain her guess was correct, yet the venom in his voice from what name she picked from the list of many for the dark shadow that loomed ever closer to them surprised her and it showed plainly on her face.
'The enemy has many names, I picked but one.' she said, quietly though he would hear her even if she whispered instead. 'If I caused offence, I did not intend it. I have no need to speak of him often.' trees, after all, did not care which of the names the great shadow went by and she was so seldom in the city that new tales of the horrors of war seldom came to her ears.
'No. No evil pricks at the girdle, looking for weakness. I came of my own will, on a different sort of hunt.' then, more because she does not want to start a fight with someone seemingly quick-tempered than because of any sort of trust she adds: 'I sought a bird, if you must know. I had never heard its song nor seen its face before but it would not come into the wood and so I came out.'
Steading herself against the tree trunk she then calls out a soft, sweet bird song which is answered from the direction from which she came by one just like it.
'Just a bird, Lord. Nothing more.' She doubted at all that he thought her a hunter, no one amongst the elves would look at her and see such.
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âť› Then well and safe the realm of King Thingol is yet kept. May still in these troubled days come no peril near to him and his. âťś He spoke with reverence but without fear or anger and last the forbidding gleam in his eyes faded.
He had judged soon that she was not a huntress for even the Sindar of Doriath clothed themselves in other raiment and bore different bows and arrows when they would game boar or deer. When birdsong came back to them Celegorm turned his head. None of Oromë's gives he had forgotten. He knew the bird and that its striking black and red it moulted to dull colors in the autumn, and why it sang back to the maiden. His gaze became soft with recollection while he looked away, though soon it hardened again when he spoke.
❛ Would that the birds followed after your queen and sang then as they do when Vána comes. But the Valar in their loftiness will not fare to these lands! ❜ Alas! Not even the echo would they hear of Celegorm's ire as he spoke this, as by the doom upon the Ñoldor.
Finally he returns somewhere between that resentment and kinder memory. His horse with Celegorm on its back takes a few paces and his hounds too, as well Huan, give way beneath the tree. âť› That bird will not come to you, safe to see who imitates its song without meaning. âťś
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'I wish the same for you and yours,' and if he thought her genuine in her thanks and well wishes, she did not care, for she knew her own heart and that she could never wish them any ill. Not even if that ill was earned. 'Nargothrond is said to be a remarkable place.' not unlike her own Menegroth, who though she knew very well she could not love the same way she did the forest or the wild places. 'With such defenders I do not think it will be caught unawares.' In that, she may, perhaps, mostly mean the hounds.
The Valar were more of a mystery to her, both known and unknowable to those who had never crossed the sea. She had never spoken directly to one who might have seen them and it seemed he had, though it was doubtlessly a sore subject and she did not wish to touch it now, or ever. She doubted she would ever know him well enough to dare.
And in many ways Mithiel was like her Queen. Not so much as the fair Luthien, of course, for no Maia or other great blood flowed through her but she had the same soft heart for nature, and the same sort of fellowship that meant most beasts would harken to her call if given a little time and ever she had a talent for learning their tongues.
'You know of this bird? I have never seen them near Doriath, and though I do not wander abroad I am often by the edge of the wood.' even with the hounds and Celegorm somewhat withdrawn and the room clear for her to jump down, she does not yet fully descend from her place of safety, only dropping to the branch below where she stood, drawn by curiosity more than trust.
'I would know its song's meaning if it would not flit away so often,' there she sounded both defensive and sad. 'I have never had a creature flee me thus.' It had not felt foul and so she did not imagine it was a spy of the enemy, yet it acted strangely and she could not account for its presence.
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Yet then he nearly laughed. No, he gave a scoff, and even his horse stirred a bit, still not of glee but for the reason she tried after all. To bound both blind and deaf after a bird! And now she sulked that it had not waited on her.
âť› That bird had understood a danger ye did not. âťś And in the air it had been safe from the wolves chasing her below, so much Celegorm guessed. All beings fairly created understood some of the wickedness that came from a loathsome conception, all of them if they knew not to fight it then at least to flee. That it belonged not to anything foul he knew.
In Valinor and when the Ă‘oldor spoke as they would he called it Laituilindo. Under the ban: âť› Laeduilin. And if you had not seen it in your woods that is because it does not live and only travels here, and it will perch in tall trees beyond your reach and sight unless you know it there. âťś
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Perhaps the bird still understood a danger she did not entirely grasp, for though in the distance she saw a dart of red and heard another soft song it did not come with her like it had all of yesterday and the morning, as if waiting for her to play chase with it. It did not seem to wait as it had the last month on the edge of the forest, daring her to come out of her homeland and taste the wide world for the first time since before the girdle was made. Instead, it flitted away out of even elvish sight with one last call, perhaps a farewell.
Laeduilin, she repeated in her mind, wishing to add it to her sketches tucked away in her satchel but sensing now was not the time and place with his gaze so firmly upon her.
'Thank you, once more, for saving me and for sharing the name of my fleeting friend.' for she would not stop trying to befriend them, it was against her nature to not want to know all that she could of the world. Perhaps he would take her thanks to heart this time and know she was not one to lie or mock. She had never lived in a world where these skills were needed.
Looking again at the ground, at the hounds, the horse and his lord-master Mithiel decided then that if she did not go down of her own accord he may grow tired and force her to the ground by one means or another so at last she jumped off the branch and landed effortlessly in the circle of hounds. Immediately, Mithiel missed the extra height. She was tall enough compared to some but for an elf she had always felt small, and now smaller still on the ground with no excuse to climb the tree again or otherwise flee from all the eyes set upon her.
'I am Mithiel,' she says, at last, not asking him his name both because she was sure she knew it, and that if he had wanted to offer it he likely would have already. 'In case you wish to tell of the foolish woman who would go alone to speak to strange creatures, as if the world were safe, who you saved from herself on your hunt.'
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In Elvenhome he had also lived such days.
From craning his neck up, he followed as she jumped down. Whether she came this way or not until he went, their talk of birds then seemed at an end. Surely Celegorm was taller and by much, even if he dismounted his horse, and perhaps looked even prouder in the face when looking up. Not less, at least, when at her guess he simply said, âť› I do not wish to. âťś
And tinged by something sinister his answer may have been, when he did now not command his hounds, all with glowing eyes and sharp white teeth (and the great, dead wolf between them) to move still away. But Huan went, without word from Celegorm it seemed, and like a Captain took two others of the pack. But Celegorm took her thanks this time. âť› Would ye, in Doriath, tell of this meet? âťś Then, he guessed, she would like his name.
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It did not help Mithiel with the son of FĂ«anor who looked down upon her from his mighty steed, but it meant she had only one place to look instead of several as she tried to take the measure of not just what he had said but how he had said it. For from a more friendly source that might have meant I would not wish to embarrass you, but it sounds different from his tongue to her ears in a way that renews the deeply unsettled feeling she had about her when most of her vision was crowded by white teeth and bright eyes.
Even what he asked her made her skin crawl, uncertain if the better answer was yay or nay and wishing she could ask him plainly without causing some further offence.
'That I was saved by a great and mighty hunter?' she said, 'it is a good story of a valiant deed.' so, yes, maybe, when the sting of fear wore off.
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Yet his brother's words, and though Curufin was not with him, he knew full well. More crafty in thinking of the talk that might follow or the deeds that may benefit them was he. Such luck, perhaps, the she had not his talk also to spar with. These thoughts of his would not be read, but Celegorm had not done any ill on her nor would, no matter that Mithiel stood as a spooked doe in the circle.
For a good moment now silence had laid over the round. Then, as he spoke, she would find his tone different from before. Not so removed and not so over-lordly as he sat in the saddle.
âť› Then, if and when, name in some valour Celegorm of Nargothrond. âťś To Thingol, he thought but surely said not.
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'Lord Celegorm,' she said with as much respect and warmth as she had within her to manage, which for one of her people was a surprising amount. There was little love between the Sindar and the Noldor in these days. 'I will be sure to always recount the tale truly,' if she told anyone at all. Her parents would be beside themselves if they knew what she had done - and worse, she didn't know if it was the wolves for the son of FĂ«anor who would set their hearts to thundering more.
She could only count her blessings that he did not have his brothers with him, she may well have taken her chance with running if their numbers were greater.
Her eyes fixated on her arrow still stuck in the wolf's flank, and then she stepped forward to pull it free, the noise and the new stream of steadily cooling blood making her nose flare in disgust but she quickly cleaned it on a rag from her pocket and put it away with the others.
'I would not keep you from home or further hunting, whichever way you are headed, my lord.'
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And what would the sons of FĂ«anor have done to a Sinda, who held neither some power to her name nor even one of the Silmarils?
Celegorm would have returned to his hunt as well. These pelts, even if they came off the backs of Sauron's creatures, needed not be left to waste into the earth of the land. But Huan had not yet returned. So, he did not give way though Mithiel bid him take his leave and surely that seemed no less oppressive in her eyes than what their talk had been so far.
âť› Ye may not, squandering any valour I would have done. âťś Yet, more than to reminder her of her little power, this time he explained. âť› For if another stray wolf came upon you how might ye defend yourself? âťś
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She turned over the bloodied cloth in her hands, not looking at it but unable to escape the metallic stench that emanated from it. She wasn't looking at Celegorm either, but instead at his horse. It was easier to think if she focused only on his animals, the steady heartbeat, the soft puff of breath. The way its long tail flicked and ears twitched, listening to both of them. Even the hounds at least had clear motives when they looked like they might eat her. Mithiel could not say the same for their master.
There were only a few moments between his question and her reply but it seemed, to her, to draw on forever.
'The trees have long been my friends, and I am not unarmed, my Lord. It is a day and a half's walk home.' It could be fine, or there could be wolves, or orcs, or other goblins and twisted things. There could even be folk with malicious intent. She had never in her life been this far north and could not hope to guess but she did trust in fate at least for the most part. 'I would not ask you to delay your hunt so long.' For the elves, it was almost nothing in time but his prey would move or hide or make trouble.
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