~When Túrin's mother and sister runs away to find him, Thranduil and Captain Mablung are sent to guard them, but what can they do against a grown dragon? Meanwhile in Doriath, Aerneth and Oropher has a dispute.~

oOo

Niënor and Glaurung by ChrisMasna

Niënor and Glaurung

Thranduil woke up with Aerneth still nestled close against him. It was too warm, and his arm had fallen asleep under her neck, but he did not move. He could hear she was awake as well.

In the bleak morning light, he felt awkward about what they did yesterday. He ought to have checked his desire, but instead he had thrown himself over her like an animal in heat. If he could not control this, what was to say he could control his temper the next time they fought? For he knew they would; their relationship so far had proven there would always be moments when their wills clashed. Would he hurt her again when that happened?

It was hard to imagine now, with her body soft and pliable from sleep and her beautiful face relaxed, but he must not fool himself into believing it could last.

He saw himself the way he had been right after she told him she kissed another. How he had shook her, scared her, punched the wall next to her. She was right to call him Oropherion. He was not safe for her to be around.

Through the thin wall he heard his father moving around. He should get up and make breakfast, but still he lingered.

He recalled Oropher's bold statement yesterday. I am not leaving before then, and neither are you.

It did not surprise him. His father had aspired to the throne for a long time now, and worked hard to get in a position where he had a chance to get it. He would not lightly throw all that away to become a refugee in the south.

Would Aerneth agree to stay in Doriath if Thranduil did?

Probably not, and his father would not likely budge either. As usual, Thranduil would be caught between them.

Sighing, he eased his sleeping arm out from under Aerneth and left the bed.

When he returned from the bathroom, scrubbed clean and a lot more awake, he found Aerneth up. She was combing her hair, and had put on one of her old dresses; most of her clothes had remained here when she went to battle that time.

Picking a matching outfit, Thranduil got dressed as well.

Neither of them spoke when they finished making themselves ready, and they carefully made wide circles around each other in the small room. The silence was almost palpable, and they avoided eye-contact.

At the breakfast table, Oropher cast sly glances at his son and daughter-in-law, and his smile was decidedly smug. Perhaps he had heard them yesterday, and thought their love-making was a sign Aerneth would stay and become a dutiful wife again.

All these years he had explained away her absence to their neighbours and friends, claiming she had been on a short visit to her parents when the unrest in the Falas and their exile had made her unable to return. If she stayed now, he could continue pretending their family was happy and normal.

Thranduil had just finished clearing the table when a messenger knocked on the door, urging him to hurry to the stables, armoured and with his weapons ready. Apparently Lady Morwen had done what she had warned and left Doriath, and her daughter had disappeared shortly afterwards. As per the king's order yesterday, Mablung was taking his march-wardens to find and guard the two women. In addition, Thingol wanted news about Nargothrond and the dragon, so they would scout the area before returning.

Aerneth shook her head vigorously when she heard where he was going. "Don't go there! One look from the dragon's eyes is all it takes to paralyse you!"

Thranduil was warmed by her concern. "I have to," he said kindly. "But don't worry. I shall be careful."

"Stay." She grabbed his arm as if she thought she could keep him there by force. Her eyes had grown large and frightened.

"I cannot." He pried away her stiff fingers.

When he walked towards the stables, Thranduil felt a twinge of unease over Aerneth's strong reaction. Was the dragon really that dangerous? He remembered how scared Faraion had been when he first arrived in Doriath, and how just the mention of the word 'dragon' now, years afterwards, still could make him blanch. But there was no helping it, he had to follow orders; it was what march-wardens did.

oOo

The thirty elves left Doriath in a rather demure silence; it was obvious Thranduil was not the only one who worried over their mission. Only Mablung looked unconcerned, but he always did nowaday, as if he did not care what happened to him; whether he lived or died. Beleg's death had changed him.

They soon caught up with the lady they pursued; she was walking quite openly along the Esgalduin river path, the straightest route to Nargothrond. She did not so much as greet them, but when Mablung led a horse to her she graciously accepted it and mounted the steed.

After a while a glittering between the tree trunks ahead indicated the Sirion was close. The air was chilly and damp here and the ground wet after last week's rain. Thranduil shivered and drew his cloak closer around him.

The forest thinned out and they arrived at the beach of the river, which was wide and deep as usual this time of year. The drawbridge was pulled up; after the autumn rains it was too short to span the wide expanse. Instead they resorted to a flat ferry, big enough to allow ten elves and their horses.

Shortly before dawn, the last group had crossed. Then Morwen cried out in dismay. "You were thirty elves – but here are thirty-one now!" Perring intently at the company, she grabbed hold of the cloak of one of them, pulling down the hood and exposing a young woman with long, blonde hair. "Niënor!" she gasped. "Go back! Go back! I command you."

The girl's face grew stubborn. "If the wife of Húrin is not afraid, then his daughter is not either. Where you go, I shall follow. But if you return to the protection of Melian, then so will I."

"I am your naneth and you must obey me. Now, go back!"

"No. I'm not a child anymore, that you can command."

The women stared at each other, neither willing to budge.

At last, Morwen sighed. "I shall continue. If you come, it is against my will."

"So be it."

Mablung looked at Thranduil, shaking his head, and mumbled: "They are just as stubborn and careless as Túrin." He seemed uneasy for once, probably because he would be risking not only his own life this time, but that of two women. "I don't like this errand. What should we do?"

Morwen had heard him. "You do what your king has commanded you, of course. Go to Nargothrond and find out what happened, and search for Túrin. We all want the same thing."

"Then you must stay close to us at all times," he said reluctantly.

The ride over the Talath Dirnen was dismal. Just like Medlin had said, the ground was scorched and black, and only scarred stumps were left of the scarce pine forest which had covered the heathland. There was no sound of any living creatures; no buzzing insects, no chirping birds, not even orcs. Nothing at all. Luckily the company had brought fodder for the horses, or they would have starved.

On the third day they reached a small hill overlooking Nargothrond, and here Mablung assigned ten guards to watch over the women and the horses while the rest of them continued on foot.

Morwen seemed unwilling to stay behind, but Mablung sternly warned her against following; she and her daughter would only make his task harder if they did. If she wanted him to find her son, she must do as told.

Then she reluctantly agreed to obey, but she looked long after them when they left.

The march-wardens walked westward in silence. When they came closer, they saw the bridge was gone and the gates torn down, leaving the entrance gaping open like a toothless mouth.

Thranduil's heart was pounding hard at the sight. He looked at the massive pillars; the bridge must have been enormous. What monster could destroy something that big and strong?

Climbing stealthily down to the riverbank, they started to walk alongside the Narog. The river separated them from the city, so they needed a suitable spot to cross.

A sudden roar made Thranduil's heart jump and he froze where he stood, pressing his back against a boulder. A shadow blocked the sky briefly as Glaurung lithely crawled down against them, impossibly fast for such a huge creature. His fingered forelegs had claws large as logs, black and cruel, and his lizardy body was covered in shield-like scales.

The dragon opened his gigantic jaws and a gust of fire spouted from them in a scorching cascade of blue and white. As the flames hit the surface of the river, a dense, stinking fog rose from the waves with a vast hiss, obscuring the monster. Thranduil heard whimpers of terror from others nearby and the sound of running feet.

Cowering close to the ground, he saw a dark shape pass merely yards from him. Rocks and gravel from the hillside crashed down around him as it went up it, and then the silence resumed. Only the dragon stench lingered, so thick it nearly choked him.

"Anyone still here?" whispered Mablung.

"Aye, Captain," replied Thranduil.

There was no other sound; either their comrades had fled or fallen prey to the beast.

Mablung joined him by the boulder, and they caught each other in a rough embrace.

"I am going in," Mablung said, releasing him. "Túrin might still be there."

"What about the women?" breathed Thranduil.

"They must have heard the dragon, and hopefully they are on their way back at a gallop. Either way, we can't do much for them."

He ordered Thranduil to find a hiding place further from the river and wait there for his return. Then he started out in the water, and soon disappeared into the thick mist.

Thranduil found a spot on a nearby hillock and sat down with trembling limbs. Nothing Aerneth and Faraion had said had prepared him for the sight of Glaurung. No wonder his wife was so afraid for Doriath! If that beast wanted to, he could burn down the entire forest and destroy Menegroth with hardly no effort.

Suddenly he heard pounding hooves in the distance, and a female voice, crying: "Niënor! Niënor!" It was Morwen; her horse must have become afraid of the dragon and bolted. Thranduil hoped it would run home without throwing off its rider, and save the poor woman. In the fog he could not go after her, and besides, Mablung had ordered him to stay.

Waiting blindly was agonising; at least Mablung was doing something, even if that something was horrifyingly dangerous. Thranduil's stomach churned and made noises, and he feared the dragon would hear it and come to devour him. Of course, such thoughts only increased his distress.

An immeasurable amount of time passed; it felt like hours but could be minutes too, Thranduil had no way of knowing.

Then he heard something again; a booming voice much too close for his liking, so low pitched and loud it penetrated his body and made his heart beat irregularly.

"What seek you here?" it said.

A female replied, sounding completely calm and undaunted: "I seek one Túrin that lived here for a while. But maybe he's dead."

It was Niënor! Thranduil was both shocked and awed by her boldness.

"I know not," rumbled Glaurung. "He was assigned to protect the women and the weak here, but instead he cowardly ran away." His great voice was teeming with vitriol and contempt. "Why seek you such a craven?"

"You lie! The children of Húrin are no cowards! We are not afraid of you."

"Then you are fools, both you and your brother," sneered the dragon. "For I am Glaurung!"

At his words a wind appeared and the mist dissolved. Now Thranduil saw the two of them; an enormous dragon standing face-to-face with a small woman, her blonde locks fluttering in the breeze he had stirred up. She was staring into his lidless eyes with an empty gaze.

The dragon looked almost like he was smiling. Leaving her paralysed form, he crawled down to the river, waded across it easily on his long legs and went back up to his lair. Before entering, he looked at a spot across the water and laughed evilly.

"There you lie like a vole under the bank, Mablung the mighty! How ill you run Thingol's errands. Now, hurry back to see what happened with your charge!" With that, he disappeared into the ruined city, his long tail slithering behind him.

oOo

All through the night Thranduil and Mablung walked in silence, leading Niënor with them. She had become a lifeless statue who would not talk, nor eat, and only if they dragged her along by hand did she walk.

After a while, two more elves made them company. Of the thirty that had set out only the four of them remained, and all the horses were gone.

The journey went very slow, and it took many days until they finally neared the dark shape that was Doriath. They were almost there when another night came upon them, and since Niënor seemed weary they laid her on the grass to sleep while they stood guard around her.

After a few hours, Thranduil perceived a nasty smell. "Orcs!" he hissed, warning his comrades.

Sure enough; soon a dozen of them charged out from the surrounding darkness. Screeching obscenities in their shrill voices, they clashed their bent scimitars against the elves' swords.

In the middle of the ruckus Niënor suddenly sprang up, crying out in fear, and bolted away into the night. The orcs turned to chase her, and the elves after them, but the young woman in her terror outran them all.

The march-wardens soon overtook the orcs and killed them, but by then there was no trace of their charge. Niënor had disappeared.

oOo

Captain Mablung was deeply ashamed when he returned before the king, after having lost most of the warriors he had brought with him, and both the women he was tasked to protect.

The king and queen graciously forgave and comforted him, however. He had done his best; nobody could beat a dragon, not even Mablung.

Thranduil felt a little better than his captain when he walked home from the palace. He had survived, and though the worry for his lost comrades was a raw wound, he still had hopes they lived and would find their way back eventually. For all he knew, the women might be alive too.

In addition, Mablung had described the dragon's lair which he had seen when he went into Nargothrond. Glaurung had gathered all the gold, silver and jewels of the city and made a huge pile of it; a veritable hoard. With such a treasure, was it not likely he intended to stay there and guard it? Thranduil was certain he would, which meant that if Doriath would be destroyed, it was not by the dragon – and that in turn meant there was no hurry to leave. This would buy him time to persuade his father, and hopefully he would be able to bring both him and Aerneth to safety.

However, when Thranduil opened the door to his home, he walked right into a heated argument.

"...not going to let you ruin mine or my son's only chance to the throne for absolutely no reason!" Oropher's face was pale as ash except for two crimson spots on his cheeks.

"You're a power-hungry tyrant! For years, you have terrorised your family, and if Thranduil is unhappy the fault is yours, and only yours!" Aerneth stood opposite to him, her jaw stubbornly set and her shoulders squared.

The scene reminded Thranduil of Niënor and the dragon the other day, but his wife was far from dazed; her eyes sparkled with anger.

"How dare you imply that I..." Orpher suddenly noticed Thranduil in the doorway, and broke off. "You are back! Good. You need to discipline your obnoxious wife!"

"Oh, you did that quite well on your own," she sneered, absentmindedly rubbing her cheek. Thranduil's stomach churned when he saw how swollen it was.

"Adar, how could you!" he hissed, closing the distance between them and taking Aerneth in his arms. She allowed it, but her body was stiff and her back straight as a young tree.

"I didn't mean to hit her, but you have to know what she has done! During your absence, she has gone behind both my back and yours, conspiring with several important people in the city to rebel against the king. Even if we stay, there will not be much of a kingdom left to rule if she has her way!"

"Oh, I will have my way, Adar," Aerneth spat. "This is already in motion, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. We will leave this sinking ship, and we'll do it tomorrow!" She turned to look at Thranduil, her gaze sharp. "You should come too. For once, let go of that toxic ellon and follow your heart." Her countenance softened slightly. "I came to Doriath to warn you. The only reason I stayed in Nargothrond with an army of orcs on their way, was the knowledge that my husband was here, unaware of the impending disaster. I did it for you."

Thranduil looked from her to his father and back again, feeling torn in halves.

"I've had enough of you both," growled Oropher. "Do as you please, son; abandon me if you will. See if I care." He stomped upstairs.

"I'm going to bed," said Aerneth curtly. "Let me know when you have made up your mind." And then she was gone as well.

Shakily, Thranduil sat in one of the chairs and poured himself a glass of wine. This was not the reception he had hoped for.

The hours went by, and he remained motionless, not even touching the wine. Again and again he poured over the alternatives. To leave – or to stay. To abandon his father – or his wife.

He recalled the last time he had left Oropher, shuddering at how devastated the ellon had been, and how poorly he had managed on his own. Thranduil knew the same would happen again. And then Oropher's aspirations to the throne would come to naught, for who would put a wrecked ellon in charge; one who could not even run his own home? If his father was to become king, he needed Thranduil by his side.

But how could he allow Aerneth to leave alone on a dangerous journey south, with a dragon lurking not far away and the woods full of orcs? And even if she survived, he would be separated from her again just when they had become reunited.

Besides, Doriath would fall; he was not so foolish as to think the visions of Queen Melian and Ulmo false. What if he was caught in the kingdom's ruin and killed? Or what if he survived, but was taken captive and brought to Angband to become a thrall like poor Gwindor? Bile rose in his throat at the memory of the ellon's grisly wound, where he had been forced to chop his own hand off to escape the torture and plight of Morgoth's mines.

If Oropher managed what he intended and became king, perhaps they could escape Doriath before it was too late? Then they could travel to the Mouths of Sirion, and found a new kingdom there, and Thranduil could move in with his wife...

Who was he trying to deceive? If he let go of Aerneth now, choosing his father over her – and knowing all the risks she took to come and warn him, at that – she would never take him back. Such a betrayal would have been hard to forgive even for a normal, loving couple; the way things were between Thranduil and Aerneth, it would be impossible.

He sighed. There was simply no good option; whatever he chose, he would lose someone dear to him.

oOo

Shortly before dawn Aerneth padded into the room on silent feet, and sat down in the chair next to his. Her cheek looked horrible now; puffy and tinted with blue, and he reached out to stroke it softly.

"I am sorry he did that," he murmured.

She shrugged. "He doesn't frighten me, and I can take pain."

He did not reply. His finger strayed to her hair, and he pushed a strand of it behind her pointed ear.

"You have made up your mind," she stated. Not angrily; she looked quite calm. A bit like himself when he hid his feelings.

He nodded.

Something flickered across her eyes and he could see her swallow. She knew what he had chosen.

"I lied to you that time," she said. "I do love you. I always did."

"I love you too." Tears were burning behind his eyelids now, but he knew his face showed no emotion.

"Keep in touch." Her voice was steady. "At least then, I know if... when it happens."

"I will."

"Well, then." She took his still untouched glass from the table and emptied it. "I had better go packing. Goodbye, Oropherion."

He let his mask fall, and allowed his face to convey exactly what he felt at that moment. "Goodbye, Aerneth."

Her eyes grew misty and she bent forward to give him a chaste kiss on his lips. She tasted wine.

"Goodbye, Thranduil," she whispered.

Not long afterwards, Aerneth left Doriath with Galadriel, Celeborn, Amroth, and many others, never to return.

But Thranduil stayed with his father.

❈ ❦ ❈

A/N:

Though it's of course not a good decision to stay, Thranduil's choice is based on his deep guilt over his mother's suicide and how it affected his father. He thinks leaving will kill Oropher in the end, and doesn't want that on his conscience.

But as we shall see, Doriath will indeed not last, and where can he go then but to Círdan's realm? There will be a new reunion eventually.

Image Credits:

Niënor and Glaurung by ChrisMasna on DeviantArt, https://www.deviantart.com/chrismasna