~The refugees from Haven try to flee Oropher's iron rule, but leaving is not as effortless as Aerneth thought, and they must also pass the realm of Fëanor's sons unnoticed.~

oOo

Thieves in the Night

The River Gelion, First Age 538

Aerneth shivered with a mix of cold and anxiety. The river was still and dark; her father would probably not contact her for another two hours at least, but it had been impossible to sleep. She might as well come early than toss and turn in her bed.

A silent ellon stood motionless a few yards ahead, a dark shape outlined against the lanterns of the sleeping city. Amroth had his back turned, making sure he would not see anything of what would happen this night. That way he would not need to lie to his king.

Thank the Valar for him! Without him on their side the plan would have no chance to succeed.

More waiting followed. Aerneth tried to clear her mind, to not think about what lay ahead. To just be. She opened her senses, feeling the breeze on her cold cheeks, and the sounds of night creatures. Inhaling the earthy smell of autumn leaves on the river bank.

A shadow loosened itself from the direction of the city. Galadriel, coming to help guard the path to the pier. Silent as a lynx she squatted by the river.

New shivers ran down Aerneth's spine. She desperately hoped the precaution would be needless; that there would be no one to guard against. Memories of the elves she killed in Haven was still plaguing her. She often woke up at night with vivid images of them drowning, with their panicked faces etched on her retinas.

Dreams she had to tackle alone, now, with no comforting arms wrapped around her. Much as she loved Galadriel, she was not the type of friend whom others went to to be soothed.

Though surrounded by people, Aerneth had never felt lonelier than the past summer. Living with Thranduil in Haven for so many years had glued them together more than she had realised, and losing him had left a vast, aching emptiness in her.

Her anger had subsided as soon as she had time to calm down. Thranduil had sworn the oath to his father out of necessity. She did not blame him, could not blame him. Oropher was the guilty party.

She wondered if Thranduil felt the same grief as she did. The same loss. Or if he resented her for abandoning him.

She resented it, at least in part. Her own oath had been rash, spoken in a heated spur of the moment. Yet, she could not have stayed, either. She could not survive living under Oropher's roof without an ally, and with her husband sworn to obey his every whim he was no longer a such.

There had simply been no good option.

She had not seen Thranduil much after she left; he kept close to his father and Aerneth kept as far away from that ellon as possible.

There was a nudge in her mind and she swiftly dispelled the thoughts of her former husband. Instead she whispered the spell to open the connection and Círdan's face appeared in the river.

"Soon there," he said in a low voice. "We can see the lights from the tree houses."

"We are ready."

She waved her hand to Galadriel, who passed the signal on to Celeborn and the others by the pier. There was movement; people uncovering the crates and bags of food and other supplies that had been gathered during summer.

Almost everyone from Haven was there. Ready to leave Oropher's harsh, unwelcome rule.

Contrary to his sweet talk of uniting the peoples he had seemed to do his best to set the newcomers apart and treat them in the worst possible way without outright throwing them out. Perhaps as a punishment to Aerneth for leaving his son, or perhaps he always meant to do it. He provided the Haven refugees with only the bare necessities of food and housing, and discouraged the Laegrim and his other followers to mingle with them or give them anything. They had obeyed for the most part. Only a handful, with Amroth among them, had gone against the king's orders.

Despite Oropher's cruelty, Aerneth hated the thought of sneaking away like thieves at night. Of leaving without even saying goodbye.

Of leaving Thranduil in the claws of his monster father.

She had urged Galadriel – and Gil-galad via her water connection – to stay with the original plan. To allow Oropher and the Laegrim to sail with them to the mountains and be saved from the upcoming disaster. She did not think it right to leave them to their doom. Besides, having Oropher with them on the ships would make passing through the realm of Fëanor's sons easier and safer.

But her opinion had been firmly downvoted. Oropher's people could follow on foot; he had a deal with Maedhros and would be let through his lands. They were not abandoning anyone, only giving themselves a head start. For, Galadriel did not trust Oropher to let them go. He had broken his word repeatedly since they swore obedience to him – why would this time be any different? He might attack Círdan's ships, or at least delay them; maybe even go so far as to force Gil-galad to abdicate and make himself High King of both the Noldor and the Sindar.

Leaving in secret was the safest option. When Oropher and his people joined them later they would already have established the new colony and would be ones to set the rules. There would be no hassle that they ceased to call him king.

Aerneth knew Galadriel was right, but still felt bad about it. Here they were, hiding in the shadows, about to steal supplies meant for the whole realm and run away like criminals. Punishing innocent people for the misdeeds of their king.

But it was what it was. She had no say in this.

A shadow blocked the weak moonlight and her heartbeat quickened. Sails. Círdan had arrived, at last.

More movement commenced, and faint noises. The creaking of wood boards, sails snapping in the breeze, the thumps of feet carrying heavy burdens on board, whispering voices. Every sound made Aerneth wince. Anytime now someone might hear, and decide to come down to the river, and then Galadriel and she would have to...

But hopefully nobody would come.

Hopefully everyone slept soundly.

She was staring so intently at Amroth's back she might bore holes in it. Waiting in case he alerted them of an approaching elf.

Still nothing. They might make it. They might actually make it!

Then she froze where she sat. His hand. Amroth raised it, innocently scratching behind his ear. The signal.

"Good evening."

Numbing dread pooled in Aerneth's stomach when she heard the familiar voice. No, no, no! Why must it be him, of all people?

"Evening, Tharan. Cannot sleep?"

"Nay. But that is nothing unusual."

"Well, there are still many hours until sunrise. Perhaps lie back and rest a while longer? Walking around like this cannot be helpful."

"Did you hear something just now?"

"I hear fallen leaves rustle in the wind, and a while ago the hoot of a wood owl. No orcs, if that's why you ask. Everything is safe. You should get back to bed."

Aerneth had stopped breathing. Amroth was doing his best to divert Thranduil without outright lying to him. Would it work?

But of course she was not that fortunate.

"What is that?" Thranduil pointed in the direction of the pier, peering through the darkness with narrowed eyes.

She should do something. Had to do something. It was just...

"What are you waiting for?" Galadriel hissed.

Aerneth pressed her teeth together to stop them from clattering. She must do it. There was no other choice.

She sang the spell.

Thranduil yelped when a cascade of water sloshed over him, dragging him headfirst into the river. His brief exclamation was abruptly cut off.

Galadriel caught his flailing limbs so Aerneth could tie them together with the rope they had prepared. Galadriel then dragged him back ashore and pressed a long knife against his neck. "Make a sound and you will regret it."

Thranduil lay panting and sputtering, but otherwise silent. The plan had worked impeccably; overthrowing him had taken only seconds and been almost completely soundless.

Aerneth felt his gaze on her in the weak light. She could not resist returning it, meeting his eyes and expecting to see accusation and rage in them.

There was none. Only deep sadness.

Then he must have understood why she was doing this, and what was happening. That she was leaving.

"You can step aside," she breathed to Galadriel. "He will not expose us."

Galadriel slowly and reluctantly withdrew the blade. She clearly did not trust Thranduil to keep his mouth shut, but Aerneth knew he would. He had promised loyalty to his father, not disloyalty to his former wife.

She allowed herself to scrutinise his face, committing it to memory. Holding back her tears as she did so.

There was a bruise on his brow. Had she caused that just now? But no, it was older. Fading.

Oropher then. Back to his old, violent ways.

Aerneth was going to leave Thranduil to continue being used as a punching bag by his father, and to make the dangerous journey to the mountains on foot. It would take days – maybe even weeks – and what if the orcs and warg riders cut them off? There had been no sight of them during the summer, but they would come eventually, now that there were no elves left in southern or western Beleriand to hold them back.

The longing to release Thranduil from the bonds and take him with her was a sharp spear tearing a ragged hole in her heart. For she could not. Even if Círdan let him onboard the ship, he had sworn to stay with his father until death, and she had sworn not to be his wife for as long as he did.

Galadriel touched her shoulder. "It is time. They are ready to sail."

Aerneth gave Thranduil one last look. "Farewell," she breathed. "And... sorry. We will wait for the rest of you in the mountains. You will be alright." She was trying to convince herself as much as him that it was true.

"Hurry!" Galadriel snapped, tugging on her.

Stifling her dismay, Aerneth obeyed. She turned her back on Thranduil and hastened over to the waiting ships.

oOo

The swanships were crammed full of goods and people. There were only three; originally Círdan had brought four from the Isle of Balar but had been obliged to leave the largest one halfway up the Gelion where it became too shallow. That considered, it was perhaps for the better they were not taking Oropher's people as well.

Aerneth silently greeted her father as she went aboard his ship. Not much later the anchor was raised and they took off.

They sailed in silence all night and all through the next day, leaving Oropher's realm far behind. Círdan stood in the prow of the first ship, peering intently into the dark river, anxious to spot hidden cliffs and shoals. Ossë had helped him navigate the uncharted waters south of Haven and find the mouth of Gelion, but here in the freshwater of the river he had to manage without aid.

Aerneth trusted her father's ability to steer. She was more concerned with Amon Ereb, Maedhros' realm, that became visible the next evening beyond the western shore. A scatter of lights indicated the hill was not far away from the river. What if there were sentries?

They waited until nightfall to pass, lighting no lanterns, and with a western wind filling the sails there was thankfully no need to use the oars. But their journey was not completely silent; the ships were heavily ladened and grated and groaned as they moved, and despite the darkness, an elvish sentry would see them if he or she were looking in the right direction.

With each yard, Aerneth's worry increased. She gripped the railing with clammy fingers, staring at the passing shore. She could not fight Fëanor's sons again; the mere thought made her queasy. But if worst came to worst, she must.

Time dragged. The ships slid forward with occasional creaks. The river murmured. Aerneth's breath was a roar in her ears.

She repeated a mental mantra, willing it to have effect. Don't look here don't look here don't look here...

Another yard. And another.

Slowly, oh so slowly.

Then at last they were through. The lights of Amon Ereb became fainter and fainter, disappearing in the distance.

Aerneth could still not relax, not yet, there could be dangers lurking in the underbrush. Who knew how far north the sons' realm reached? The sun was rising behind an overcast sky, and though the light was weak it increased the danger of exposure manifold.

More waiting. Her heart kept beating quickly and she had a hard time to hide the involuntary trembles running through her.

A tributary approached; Thalos if Círdan's map was correct. Gelion became wide and shallow where the streams joined and would have been impassable in a drier season, but now they managed to cross just barely. Aerneth's heart stuttered when the hull scraped against a rock with a grating noise. Did someone hear?

There was no movement in the west. She forced her fingers to ease their grip on the railing.

It took hours until she finally started to breathe calmer. It actually seemed they had made it. Some luck after all the misfortunes lately.

Around her, people began to talk in subdued voices, some even catching a bit of sleep. The worst was over.

In the evening Círdan spotted a second tributary ahead, the Ascar. Here they must stop sailing; large boulders littered the riverbed with planks connecting them. A natural ford made easier to cross by unknown hands.

At the other side of the ford the dwarf road began according to the maps; the only known passage into Eriador, the land east of Beleriand where the elves once awoke. They would now need to dismantle the ships and carry everything as far up the hill as possible, and build a temporary colony in the mountains to hopefully survive the foreseen flooding of their homeland.

They had just lowered the sails when they saw an unwelcome sight. People. A large group gathering in the arrow-shaped land between the river and its tributary.

Aerneth filled with new anxiety. Who were they? Friends or foes?

She noticed huts and tiny cabins behind them, simple structures made of sticks and branches. They must live here, and judging by their simple clothes and housing, they were not Fëanor's people. Nor were they dwarves.

Then she realised it: men. They were humans!

The relief made her nearly stagger. A group of humans could not harm three shiploads of elves.

When they went ashore, the humans came to meet them with smiles on their scruffy faces. They turned out to be nice, friendly folks, relatives of the Halathrim, the Men of Haleth in Brethil. Most of them had lived in the forest Nan Elmoth near Doriath until recently, but with the increasing number of orc raids in the area they had been forced to leave their homes. The rest were goldpanners who had made a living of searching the river for treasure to trade to the Fëanorians.

Puzzled, Gil-galad asked them to elaborate on that. What kind of treasure could be found here?

"Oh, lots of things," said their leader. He wore a thick bracelet and several gleaming rings. "Gems, coins, cups, jewellery. They say there was a battle here long ago and everyone was killed, losing their wealth to the river. We find their bones too, occasionally."

"The Battle of Sarn Athrad," said Galadriel grimly. "This must be where the dwarves who sacked Doriath were caught by Beren. I was told he only retrieved the Silmaril necklace and left the rest."

Aerneth looked at the man's fingers with a sinking feeling. One of his rings was achingly familiar with its snake shape.

Thranduil's wedding ring, stolen from him by the dwarves that time.

She recalled how she had thrown her own off in an act of childish temper, and guilt nearly stifled her. Neither of them had a wedding ring now; it was truly over between them.

oOo

When the humans were told about the prophecy and upcoming war, they asked if they could follow the elves into the mountains and build a joint colony. Gil-galad promptly accepted; there was strength in numbers even if these people were not warriors, and they needed all hands they could get to transport the supplies there.

Círdan looked sad when they began to take the swanships apart. His proud, beautiful handiwork would be reduced to planks and sailcloth and turned into simple shelters.

"Do not mourn the ships," said Gil-galad soothingly. "These lands may disappear but there will always be a coast to fill with ships. We just have to survive the troubled times ahead, then we start over."

Círdan smiled at his friend. "You are right, of course. I have built several havens already; I can do it again."

Aerneth examined the goods as it was unloaded, relieved to find many sacks of corn among the supplies Círdan had brought from the Isle of Balar. With the burning of the Havens, there had been nothing left to sow and that would have meant the end of lembas. Now they could grow corn in the mountains and multiply it, and then Galadriel could resume her baking. Perhaps Aerneth too, if needed, though she had to admit her friend was the better baker of them. There was a spell involved in the process which was why lembas was so much more filling and longer lasting than ordinary bread, and Aerneth could not compete with the magic of an elf who had seen the Two Trees in Aman.

Círdan dragged out a chest from under one of the sacks, giving Aerneth a sheepish look. "I could not resist salvaging this even though we lacked storage space."

She curiously watched as he opened it. "Naneth's paintings!" she exclaimed, surprised he had kept them. He had never seemed interested in her art. "And... my lembas?" She picked up a package wrapped in old leaves, so frail they nearly disintegrated at her touch, but the lembas within still looked fresh. But then, lembas never went bad, that was part of the magic.

"I made it in Eglarest, didn't I? I didn't know you saved some."

"Just as a small memory... of happier times."

Aerneth turned the package over in her hands, overcome by emotion. She thought of her childhood and of her mother, feeling a dull ache at the loss. Would she ever cease thinking of her?

Then she saw herself with Thranduil in the Eglarest bakery, making love against a floury workbench... walking along the beach, swimming and playing. Admiring Falasiel's clay figurines and sea paintings.

Those memories hurt more. The loss of him was still fresh.

Círdan put his arm around her. "We will get those good times back. As Gil-galad said, once this is over we begin anew. And if not, we will be reunited in Aman."

She leaned against him, eyes stinging with tears brought on by the affection he showed, rare as it was. He had always seemed to care more about the sea than his family, but perhaps her mother and she meant more to him than she had known.

"May I take some of this?" She indicated the chest, suddenly wanting keepsakes of her own.

"Of course."

She put a painting and some of the lembas in her pack, and added a third item: a wooden swan feather that had decorated Círdan's ship. To remember him by if they were ever separated again; the upcoming disaster made that more likely than ever.

If only she had something from her husband too. She sadly looked at her bare finger. Why had she thrown away the wedding ring?

Wedding ring... Now she had an idea.

oOo

The journey up the mountains took several days. The road was narrow and appeared to have been long out of use, and the terrain was steep. Several of the humans were either very old or very young, and could not walk fast.

When the motley company reached the summit, the view of Beleriand unfolding below was both stunning and tragic. Far in the west the sea was as blue and beautiful as ever, and in the south the vast forests still painted the landscape a healthy green, but further north the lands were scarred. Of Doriath only tree stumps remained and the plains beyond were littered with tiny amber pinpoints. Fires? Balrogs? Or worse... dragons? At this distance it was impossible to tell.

The humans were impressed with elvish eyesight; for their part they could hardly even see as far as the river fork where they had lived.

Aerneth paid only brief attention to the western view, her eyes were drawn southeast to where she had been living that summer. To Oropher's realm. Were his people on their way now? Would they survive the journey?

There were so many risks. Fëanor's sons could attack them, or orcs, warg riders and balrogs from the coast. Morgoth could release dragons like in earlier wars, or the sea could rise like in Ossë's – and her own – vision and drown them.

Would she ever see Thranduil again?

Though they were no longer husband and wife in any sense that mattered, her heart still yearned for him. Even if she could not be with him she wanted to know he was safe.

While the rest of them waited, Gil-galad sent scouts in several directions to find the most suitable place, and finally they settled on a flattened area in front of a sheer cliff. The slight overhang would protect them from the strong winds up there.

Now a lot of hard work commenced and they all joined in; building huts and storages, digging a well, gathering firewood. With the helping hands of the humans it took less than a week to finish a colony of sorts, albeit simple, with shelter for everyone.

After a couple of weeks Aerneth approached Celebrimbor, High King Gil-galad's chief smith and councillor, at the new smithy he was establishing. He would be obliged to work with lesser metals for a while, forging pots, pans and maybe even weapons instead of jewellery, but she would ask him for one last thing.

"I bought this gold cup from one of the treasure hunters. Could you use it to create a locket on a chain for me?" She described what it should look like. "Keep the gold that is over."

He seemed glad for the opportunity. "It would be my pleasure."

He worked fast and had it ready for her in just a day, and she was very pleased when she brought it to her simple home. The locket was beautiful, engraved with a pattern of starfish and waves to remind her of the sea. From a hiding place under her pillow she then took out the object she meant to keep in it, that she had also bought from the goldpanners – paying for both with the lembas she baked so many years ago and which the humans found exceedingly valuable. One package would last the goldpanner and his family probably half a year or more.

It was Thranduil's wedding ring.

Fitting, in a way, to use the lembas she baked in Eglarest to buy back a memory of the marriage that had begun in that same city.

She put the ring in the locket, closed it, and arranged the chain around her neck. The pendant felt cool where it rested between her breasts. Close to her heart.

❈ ❦ ❈

A/N:

The following chapters will be all about the final war of the First Age. The first part is mostly finished because I initially meant to combine it with this one, but it grew too long. I'll edit it and post it soon, probably next weekend.

Thanks anyone who still reads! I'd be super grateful for comments to let me know you are there. :)