Chapter 12: Nargothrond

Nargothrond

The trek to the Hidden Kingdom of Nargothrond began pleasantly enough, Lúthien supposed. The journey would not be a long one. For that, at least, she was glad. The princes made good speed, but no amount of speed would satisfy her. She insisted that they ride through the night, but the brothers would not allow it. There was no light to guide them, for a storm came suddenly from the North, masking the moon and stars. It poured and thundered. They had little sleep and could not start a fire.
Lúthien sat wrapped in her cloak, eyes grim and restless. Sleep had ceased to comfort her anymore. Even as she sat in silence, she saw Beren’s face, worn and twisted with pain and dread. The brothers sang in defiance of the storm and urged Lúthien to join them, but she was in a dark mood.
“I vowed not to sing until I have found Beren again,” she told them.
“Beren must indeed be special to have won such pure devotion from such a maiden,” Curufin said, but he gazed at Celegorm as he said it, and his tone was mocking.
“No more than you loved your wife once, I suppose,” there was a trace of sarcasm in her voice.
Curufin’s countenance changed. His smug smile became a scowl, his face turned gray. He said no more.
“Princess, speak with me over here, will you?” Celegorm whispered.
“Very well.”
She rose and followed him several spaces away.
“That was ill of you,” Celegorm said. “Even I dare not mention my brother’s wife in his presence.”
“Then perhaps he should have the courtesy not to speak like that! I was not deaf to the way he said those words and I noted that he would not look me in the eye.”
“My brother loved his wife. What do you know of it?” Celegorm said defensively.
“The minstrels sing of Alain Princess of the Teleri. She lost her father and brother to her own husband’s sword. They were mariners that refused to give up their ships. Because she mourned for them rather than Curufin’s honor, he stole her little son and sailed away with him. She cast herself into the sea. He murdered her as well as her kinsmen.”
“That is not how it was!” Celegorm said with a flash of wrath. “It all comes down to the Kinslaying! The Sons of Fëanor shall be forever cursed and thwarted because of it!”
“Tell me then what happened.”
“We begged the Teleri for passage to this world so that we could pursue Morgoth. They refused to be associated with ‘heretics’. We were disobeying the commands of the Valar and were no longer welcome at the havens. In that moment they forgot that we were all brothers by marriage. Many of our servants had also taken Teleri spouses. Curufin had taken Alain to wife. Their son Celebrimbor was a little boy then. We offered to buy the ships if the Teleri would not give them to us in faith. They would not balk. We had no choice.”
“So you slaughtered them.”
“There was confusion,” Celegorm corrected. “Someone drew a sword and the Kinslaying began. During the bloody struggle, Curufin’s father and brother in law were slain. No one could say who it was that cut them down. Everything happened quickly. Alain thought that Curufin had been slain too, so she took her own life. Curufin had no choice but to take Celebrimbor with him when we fled. There was no time to bury his wife or the rest of his family. My brother has been punished enough. You have no right to judge him or the rest of my brothers! Do you think the Sons of Fëanor are all monsters? Is that what your father told you?”
“My father and mother know that you are powerful but slaves to your Oath,” Lúthien said carefully. “Do you deny it?”
“No,” Celegorm sighed. “But we are all slaves to a single purpose. Do not forget that you too are after a Silmaril and for what? A mortal’s love.”
Now Lúthien felt ashamed and wondered if she had been completely wrong about the brothers. After all, her father had also been wrong about Men.
“Forgive me,” she said. “You are right. I cannot judge you or Curufin.”
“You are not the first to have done so. Come. We should be on our way soon.”
*******
After that, Lúthien enjoyed the brothers’ company. They talked much, exchanging news of their own lands and also having friendly conversation. The weather was uncommonly beautiful and warm, though autumn was creeping upon the lands with a vengeance that none could escape, save only Doriath. Winter’s frost never touched the golden leaves of Neldoreth or Nivrim. Outside of her father’s kingdom, the climate was dramatically altered. The leaves were already changing color here. The evil ice powder would cling to their boughs and purloin all the precious moisture that leaves required soon, too soon for Lúthien’s comfort.
She did not wish to travel in the bitter winter. It would only make the Quest a more arduous and perilous journey for all, and even drearier, if that was possible. The aim of their Quest was a stone’s throw from madness, and their chances of success, she knew, was nothing. That simple knowledge was enough to cast gloom upon her as she thought of it even now, in the afternoon sunshine. She knew these trees about her were foreshadowing her likely doom. The trees would shed their lovely leaves, perhaps as soon as she was gone, and the long, dewy grass that sparkled like emeralds in the bright daylight and shone like silver in the moonlight would lose their green pallor and blanch to a sickly yellow, and then horrid russet. She wondered if she might not see Beren lying in the snow, or lying upon some scorched desert that the sun had cursed, dead or dying . . . She could not weep!
Not now! Not here! Wait, sorrowing heart, until I am alone again. Have you not shed tears enough in your prison or upon the road? The princes are with you, and if they see tears, they will stop to comfort you. That would not only be an embarrassment, but a waste of time. They already think me delicate as an egg shell and unable to partake in the Quest because I am a maiden and inexperienced. I must not remove all doubt of this by weeping like a little babe!
The despair and horror that crept upon her heart as the seasons did quickly passed when Celegorm gripped her arm gently and smiled. He had noticed her hanging her head and averting her eyes. He felt nothing but concern and love when he thought of her wondering about what was to come, especially when he had already made his plans. He did not intend to cause her any pain, emotional or physical. He feared any further distress might break her heart.
“Princess, what is it?” he asked.
“Oh, do not care for such a thing, your highness. It is nothing at all,” she tried to say in a dismissive way.
She did not look at him, afraid she would drown in his blue eyes, full of kindness she did not deserve because she had so mistrusted him in the beginning. But one thing she could not do was lie to a person with sincere integrity, and the melancholy texture of her voice could not be prohibited nor the aura of sadness hanging over her head like discernible storm clouds.
“Do not fret, my lady,” he smiled reassuringly. “Allow my brother and I to think of the Quest ahead. We are more than competent enough to do so.”
“Of course! I never said otherwise, my lord, and neither would I think such a thing, but I cannot forget even for a moment of Beren’s predicament!”
“I know you would not,” Celegorm restrained himself after hearing that mortal’s name that was such an unanticipated thorn in his side. “You have done enough by escaping your brooding father and coming upon us. Allow me to assuage your worries, or else, what kind of a benefactor would I be?”
The sun beamed down upon the three travelers, but the wind blew gently from the east to ease its burning upon their pale skin, for they each dwelt in underground passages, away much of the time from sunlight. It was not unpleasant, however, and Lúthien was beginning to think that her skin was a little too white. She tilted her head back to feel the breeze flow gently through her hair. Lifting her eyes to the heavens, she gazed in wonder at the stars, and later at the moon as it rose in the sky. And then the weather took a turn for the worse. A cold, harsh wind swept through the forest. She shuddered as the biting air seemed to go right to her very bones. Pulling her cloak tightly around her, she turned to Celegorm.
“It must be hard having to frequently move from place to place and so far from home,” Lúthien said.
“A high prince must do so,” Celegorm answered. “Visiting allies, attending councils, inexorable wars. They are all duties that I must attend to. Home is an idle place and should be kept so.”
“We have spoken about Nargothrond and Menegroth. I would like to know more about your homeland, my lord.”
“Himlad?” Celegorm was surprised. “It was once woodland, an ideal place. I am a hunter, after all, and there was always game in the forest. There are two rivers flowing through it, and the climate is mild so I could hunt any day that I chose. During the hunting season, you would find me there with Huan at my side rather than counting coins in my hall, my spear Melcher in my hand, and the wind would blow through Thalion’s hair, my steed. When I was there in Himlad and dashing through the beeches, I felt as though I was Oromë himself.”
“It sounds pleasant, but why are you so often away from home?”
“Well,” Celegorm answered, “I dwelt there when I was younger, before the outbreak of Angband. Otherwise, I am about the lands with my brothers or fighting wars. I am more often in Nargothrond than in Himlad, and Himlad was given to Curufin and me when we divided the land amongst the kings and princes of Beleriand. But now Himlad is no longer mine. It was burnt by the Enemy during the Battle of Sudden Flame.”
“How long did you dwell there?”
“Almost five hundred years, but my brother and I have been content in Nargothrond.”
“Which do you prefer, Himlad or Nargothrond?”
“Home is where the heart is, and my heart dwells in Nargothrond,” Celegorm answered, “and I would do anything to assure her safety. Himlad is no longer mine so I cannot think of it as home any longer.”
“Tell me, my lord, if you will, of the days when you dwelt in Valinor.”
“I am afraid I cannot,” Celegorm answered, and a shadow of pain fell across his face.
“Very well then. My father himself said that it was perilous to tell others of the beauty and serenity of Valinor. One would pine for it. Tell me more of Nargothrond.”
Celegorm told Lúthien all that he knew about Nargothrond and asked about Menegroth, for he had heard that it was the fairest of all Elvin dwellings, rivaling Gondolin, and was the mother of Nargothrond. She continued to ride upon his steed and felt that great friendship was coming between them, but there were times when the brothers would speak together alone in whispers while they rested, and a shadow would pass over Lúthien's heart then, although she did not know what it meant.
She continued to brush the feeling aside, convincing herself that the brothers were speaking of the road in the impending future. She did not question them, for she felt that she would not have to worry about the future because Celegorm had promised to assuage those worries. Meddling in such conversation would be uncouth and would only give them the impression that she did not trust them and doubted their honor. They had agreed to aid her, not to be commanded by her, and they could very well change their minds about aiding her in the first place.
Then Celegorm made an attempt to dissuade Lúthien from continuing her quest so as to avoid using force on her, for the brothers were nearing Nargothrond, and Curufin had warned him that he was not afraid to carry out their plan. So Celegorm ordered a halt, and he led Lúthien away from Curufin and began a very general conversation. He told her again of the beauty of Nargothrond and gradually steered the dialogue to the matter of the Quest.
“You could stay behind in Nargothrond, Lúthien, and my brothers and I shall rescue Beren and Finrod on your behalf. Then you may be safe and explore the Hidden Kingdom as you will.”
“No,” Lúthien answered, startled.
She had thought that Celegorm would not be like Daeron or her father. Unlike the others, he had agreed to help her. But now he was trying to dissuade her just like the others! She thought she would not have to play such games with him.
“You do not understand,” she said. “I had disturbing dreams while I was in Doriath, and my Mother once told me that only one person upon Middle-Earth can save Beren, and I believe that one person is me. I must aid Beren, and I know that I, of course, cannot go alone. That is why I asked for your aid, and I am glad that you agreed to give it. I also want to be the one that Beren looks upon again once he is free. I know he yearns for me. Would Beren come to you out of his darkness?”
“No. You do not understand,” Celegorm answered, almost begging Lúthien to reconsider. “You do not understand and cannot imagine what perils lay ahead. Do you wish to join Beren in his misery?”
“He cannot suffer alone!”
“I will warn you once, because I know that you know this. You are in more danger than any one of us ever could be in!”
“You were right!” Lúthien was angry as ever. “I do know this, so do not remind me! Never come to me again asking me to stay behind like a craven and abandon Beren! And do not even think of sending me to my Father!”
“That is the last thing that I would do.”
“Good, because I flew from Doriath, and I will not have you tear off my wings and cage me again! Nor will I stay in Nargothrond. I am going after Beren!”
An awkward silence passed, and then Lúthien took a step forward and kissed Celegorm lightly upon the brow.
“Forgive me,” she said. “You have been nothing but kind to me since I came before you in beggar’s disguise. But like all the others, you are determined to save me from a path already set for me. This is my quest. I shall go, and you will aid me, if you so choose.”
“I would follow you into Hell,” Celegorm said with real tenderness.
“That is all I ask,” Lúthien said and laughed. “It is no light matter. I am glad I have you as an ally.”
Lúthien turned away from him, and Celegorm did not try to convince Lúthien again. Instead, he said, “Tell me again about the fashioning of your arms in Doriath.”
Once Celegorm grew tired of the talk, he returned with Lúthien to Curufin who was guarding the horses. He had an expectant look on his face, and he drew close to his brother.
“Did she agree?” he whispered.
“No,” Celegorm answered. “I knew she would not. Of course, she had to apologize. She is so damn sweet.”
“I knew it was futile to pursue that chance.”
“I do not regret it,” Celegorm answered. “At least this deed shall not be rendered so infamous when the time comes.”
“So you have made your choice?”
Celegorm nodded and sighed.
“Then I suppose we have no choice.”
“I suppose so!” Celegorm said harshly and turned away from his brother.
He began walking towards Lúthien. She had already mounted the horse. She was not at all fatigued despite the long, unending rides that they made that day. She sat tall and unbowed. His horse Thalion, a noble and powerful horse very much like his Master, seemed tame and gentle under her touch. Again Celegorm was stricken with her beauty and grace, her child-like innocence, and he could feel an ancient power and passionate spirit within her.
Excruciating pain was what he felt when he looked at her and climbed into the saddle before her and took the reins from her. Celegorm would destroy Lúthien’s trust and take away from her innocence. Better that she despise him than to suffer torment from the Enemy.
May she and Ilúvatar forgive me.
******
The company came to the last mile of the Guarded Plain. It was twilight on the third day of their journey when the plains stretched out before them, tall grass blowing like waves in a green ocean. Lúthien was in high spirits, and she chatted gaily, but Celegorm could not look into her face knowing what he soon would have to do. Lúthien noticed this, and that same shadow of suspicion swept over her again, but she chose to ignore it.
Celegorm rode before them and called out to the wardens he knew were there. There was a rustling in the grasses on all sides of them. Half a dozen guards appeared before them, armored in shirts and leggings of grass and masks of grass.
“Who goes there?” came a voice speaking in Quenya, and a strong, fleet Elf stepped before the others. He was clothed all in green grass, and his face was masked, but Celegorm knew who he was.
“Well met at last, Arminas,” he said scorningly. “I had expected the guards in the tower to approach us sooner. I am astonished that we have come so far unchallenged.”
Arminas unmasked himself, and his blond locks fell upon his shoulders. He scowled and said, “I could recognize your foul presence anywhere, Celegorm, but duty calls. There is a stranger with you. An Elvin-maid not of our people. We must know who she is before we can let her pass into Nargothrond.”
Lúthien bowed to him, and Curufin introduced her. “This is the daughter of King Thingol, Princess Lúthien Tinúviel.”
Arminas' mouth gaped open, and his fair face was troubled. Then he drew himself up.
“Why is she here?” he asked. “And in your company, I must add? The heiress deserves much better guard than two Elves alone.”
“Two Elves that are also high princes, Arminas. She is making for Nargothrond in our company.”
Arminas looked all the more alarmed at this, and he asked suspiciously in Sindar, “Was the Princess not being kept in Doriath by the King?”
“I was,” Lúthien answered sharply at her father's mentioning. “But I had urgent matters that no king's command could delay.”
Arminas took Lúthien's hand and kissed it, but then he pulled her to him suddenly so that his lips were by her ear. He frightened her a little, but that fear quickly passed to wonder at the words he spoke.
“My lady, Beren did not wish you to come here,” he whispered to her in Sindar. “Nor would he approve of the company you keep.”
“What do you mean?” she said in a low voice.
“You must go back to Doriath,” Arminas insisted. “Stay away from the brothers! They mean you more harm than good.”
Lúthien started, but Arminas masked himself and stepped away from her. “I welcome you to Nargothrond, my most fair lady,” he said loudly in Quenya. Then he turned to the brothers now and gave a hasty bow. “Why have you brought her here?”
“We have agreed to aid her in a certain quest.”
“Strange. That is strange indeed,” Arminas mused. “As long as the Princess is with you, lords,” he said with an effort, “she may go into Nargothrond.”
“Thank you, Arminas. May we pass now?”
“You may pass,” Arminas answered stiffly. “But you will not receive a warm welcome. Since you broke your allegiances to Finrod, the Noldoli have become quite anxious.”
“The Sons of Fëanor are rarely welcomed,” Celegorm said.
Arminas scowled again and took one last look at Lúthien before he sprang into the grasses like an ape. It seemed that he was gone in a twinkling.
Lúthien stared after him, stunned by his words. The brothers had broken their allegiance to Finrod? She was aghast. Celegorm had mentioned nothing of this! They were Oathbreakers. If they had betrayed Finrod, why would they not betray her? The brothers could not have been deliberately lying to her this whole time, could they?
Curufin reminded her that they must go on and were not in Nargothrond yet. As they rode that last mile, Lúthien took thought to Arminas' warning, and she clutched Celegorm's shoulders, for she was riding behind him now, and she asked who Arminas was.
“He is nothing but a vagabond,” Celegorm answered. “A lowly lord. He is an Elf come from the Havens of Círdan.”
“One of the Teleri?
“No. He is Noldoli or he would never be allowed in Nargothrond.”
“Was he sent by Círdan upon some special errand?” Lúthien asked.
“He and another called Gelmir came to warn Finrod that war is approaching. As you can see, there is little friendship between us.”
“Did he know Beren?” The question spilled out of Lúthien, and she wished she had not asked at first.
“Why?” Celegorm asked. “What did he say to you?”
“He . . .” Lúthien wondered why she hesitated. “He said that I should return to Doriath, and that Beren did not want me to come near Nargothrond.”
“I do not want you to come there either, Lúthien, with what you have planned afterwards.”
“But I must whether fortune allows it or no!”
“And if fortune does not allow it? What then?”
“Then I shall go without fortune and will rely on chance.”
******
Lúthien was very anxious, her mind in turmoil. The weather had turned bitter cold. The wind was blowing wildly through her shadowy hair. They were almost out of the forest now, and this branch of the great wood seemed so very different from Neldoreth. The Girdle did not protect this place; it was the territory of the Noldor. The trees were now naked of leaves, though it was not even winter. Lúthien was glad for her cloak. She would have been shivering without it. She could never stand the cold, but the cold was not what bothered her. Everything was still, almost stifling. Something was wrong, horribly wrong.
Celegorm wrapped his own fur cloak around her, and she thanked him courteously. Then she turned sharply, trying to look over the prince’s shoulder. She had spotted a bird, the only animal she had seen all that morning.
“Stop!” he cried. “No more moving about!”
“Pardon me, my lord.”
“I know that you must be very tired of the subject,” he said, “but can you judge by what I have told you that Nargothrond may indeed be as great as Menegroth?”
“I have never been outside of Doriath, so I cannot be the one to judge if it was a great city or no, but I do not doubt that it will be beautiful,” she answered.
“Nargothrond is a safe place. It may not be guarded by magic like your kingdom, but many warriors guard it.”
“I do not have much trust in warriors,” Lúthien said grimly. “And Doriath is not guarded by ‘magic’, as you call it.”
She shrugged Celegorm's cloak from her shoulders, excusing herself and telling him she was beginning to grow hot and that she already had her cloak and it kept her warm enough. Then Celegorm studied her cloak and wondered not for the first time what could be so astonishing about it. He knew that he would have to wrest it away from her somehow. He had asked her about it several times, and Lúthien was reticent about the subject. He had tried to take it from her with subtlety, but she never took it off and wrapped it about her in sleep.
The company halted and Celegorm and Curufin got down from their horses.
“Why are we stopping here? Are we going to walk the rest of the distance?” Lúthien asked when they commanded her to get down from the horse.
“No, but we would take a brief moment of respite.”
“I am not tired,” she answered.
Lúthien dismounted, not wishing to argue. The eerie sensation was wrenching at her a little more. Celegorm and Curufin began speaking in whispers, and a great suspicion came over her, but she did not understand why.
“Something is not right,” she said.
“Nonsense, Princess.
But she could not shake away the feeling. When the brothers urged her forward, she saw Beren’s face flash before her eyes and heard his voice clearly calling to her, “Lúthien, run!” and she planted her feet.
“We are almost there, Lúthien,” Curufin said, impatient to move on. “You were the one that rushed to be here.”
She would not budge. Then Curufin spoke suddenly in Quenya, thinking that she would not understand, “Seize her!”
Having heard these words, Lúthien was filled with a rush of emotions. Then she leaped upon Thalion. Curufin caught her by the arm with one hand and with prodigious strength. She stifled a cry.
“Curufin!” she cried in astonishment. “What are you doing?”
“I am sorry to say, your highness, but this is the end of your journey.”
“Let go!” she ordered. “You are hurting me!”
“What do I care?”
Curufin tightened his grip until she gasped from the pain. He tried to pull her from the horse. Thalion reared and Curufin snatched her other arm with the same, crushing force. Celegorm watched with a face set as stone.
“Celegorm!” she demanded. “What is the meaning of this? I do not find it at all amusing! Let go, Curufin!”
“Be still!” Curufin said harshly.
“Why do you not speak, Celegorm? Answer me!”
Celegorm refused to answer and cast his eyes down.
Lúthien commanded the horse forward, but Curufin dismounted her. She struggled so that the two fell to the ground together in a heap. They fell hard upon the earth. Lúthien felt as though her back had been broken by the impact. Curufin stooped over her and had her within his grasp. She struck out with her staff and Curufin caught the blow in the stomach. That allowed her to squirm free only to find herself facing Celegorm.
“You were supposed to enter willingly,” he held out his hands, palms facing upward. “This is not what I had planned.”
Lúthien gave him a piercing glance. Too angry for words, she punched him full in the face. He swayed, but he did not fall, and she attacked him, gnashing her teeth like a she-wolf, scratching out wildly like a tigress, and roaring like a she-bear. Celegorm was startled. Curufin had to rip her away.
“What are you doing!” she began to scream. “Let me go! How dare you handle me so!”
She rained blows on him. He began pulling at her clothes, trying to remove her cloak that he knew contained some secret power. It enraged her all the more, and his hands all over her repulsed her. She drew out her last defense, her sickle dagger. Curufin saw the glint of steel and backed off, but only for a moment. Celegorm seized her from behind, grasping her wrist. Curufin promptly took her other wrist. They forced her to her knees. Celegorm squeezed her wrist, already bruised by Curufin, until she finally let go of her dagger. It dropped to the earth, utterly useless.
“Let me go!” she screamed. “You promised me, Celegorm! You promised me that you would help me!”
“So I am.”
“You are hurting me!”
“Hold her for me,” Celegorm said to his brother.
With only Curufin to restrain her, she managed to yank a hand free and elbowed him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to the ground, gasping for air. Lúthien turned to make a mad sprint into the trees. If she could only catch herself upon the nearest branch, the brothers would have little chance of pursuing her at once. She had climbed many trees in her time, but Celegorm was upon her at once. She let out a shrill cry from the pain and Celegorm let go of her wrist and laid his grip on her shoulders instead. His grip was firm but not crushing, for he did not desire to hurt her. The Noldoli was the most warlike and the craftiest of the Elves, making them the strongest of all the three kindreds. The Sindar were not so strong, and Lúthien was a maiden alone. She was outnumbered and overwhelmingly outmatched, but her rage was far greater and stalled them for at least a little while.
The struggle was very confused, and Lúthien was not focused on anything but a chance to hurt the brothers as much as she could. She took one of their arms and struggled, and then Curufin suddenly let out a cry and fell backward, holding his bleeding hand. Lúthien could not recall ever biting him. Then Celegorm took Lúthien by one arm, and Curufin took her by the other. At last, she was overpowered.
“Devils!” Lúthien screamed. “Let me go!”
“Scream!” Curufin was amused. “Scream until you lose your voice and your lips are too dry and cracked to allow sound to pass through! Then you shall be no more trouble!”
“Let me go!” she screamed.
“You must understand, Lúthien,” Celegorm said calmly. “I pleaded with you, and I humble myself in such a way to no one. Curufin, take it!”
“Take it?” Lúthien echoed his last words with confusion.
“No! I shall hold her and you take it,” Curufin said to his brother breathlessly, ascending from the ground. “You may take your chances with her.”
“Take it?” Lúthien repeated. “Take what? I have naught of value! What do I have at all that interests you so much? Are you but common thieves? I am not carrying an ounce of silver, nor do I even have a weapon!”
“But you do carry a weapon, Lúthien. We both know that your weapon is the dubious cloak you wear,” Celegorm reminded her. “You use it as your defense, and I find that very clever. Congratulations! You have impressed me. Now take it off and hand it to me.”
“No!” Lúthien rasped. “I will not follow your orders! Unhand me! Spare me the hassle of fighting you with my bare hands, for I have no other weapon besides my dagger. I do not know why you think my clothing is a weapon, but I can tell you that such a notion is folly!”
“You will not have any use for your cloak here,” Curufin explained coldly. “You shall be staying in Nargothrond for quite a while, if not forever.”
“I will not stay here! You have no right to keep me here against my will, so let me go!”
“No, Lúthien. We cannot allow you to go any further. It is amazing that you have come this far, and it seems a shame to end it here, but it must be done.”
“I am going with you to the Isle, and you-”
“None of us are resuming the rescue. We must abort the mission. It cannot be done. Finrod and Beren are beyond hope of aid, and neither do we have any desire to win them back.”
“What of King Finrod? Would you let him perish?”
“His death is certain, but you must find the good in any circumstance. It is too late for Finrod. Now our main concern is you.”
Lúthien could not believe such a horrible notion for a moment: That the brothers could suddenly betray her like this. She had trusted them; she had even grown to like them. She looked at each of the brothers in turn, and when she glanced at Celegorm and saw the look in his eyes, she knew that what they had said was true, and that they had deceived her and let her vulnerability and despair play into their hands to gain power. For now, she understood clearly their plan. She was not the first that they had betrayed. With Finrod absent, they could easily usurp the throne of Nargothrond.
Their betrayal had been the worst yet. It was a sin that Lúthien would never forget and could not forgive. They had promised salvation and had only meant to prevent her from the Quest. As least Daeron had not lied to her as they had.
She looked at Celegorm quite piteously and said, “You took a vow! Will you not help me?”
“I am helping you.”
“You liar! You promised me you would help me as long as I came here with you. I have done as you asked, but now you must hold to your end of the bargain! Let me go!”
“Promise or no, I cannot let you leave this place. I do not want to hear that you have been made Morgoth’s captive.”
Lúthien glared at Celegorm as he handed her to Curufin. He yanked both her arms behind her back, causing a shriek of pain.
“Careful!” Celegorm snapped.
“Never you mind. The girl is fine. Just take it.”
Then Celegorm cut the string of her cloak at her breast with her own dagger, and she felt a sharp anger and a disgust that she had never known. There was nothing she could do to stop him.
“No!” she cried. “Give it back!”
Celegorm carefully folded the shadowy cloak and tucked it along with her dagger into his own things. Then he laughed.
“Well, I have not burst into flames yet, Curufin! You made me fret over nothing. Is this your so-called 'magic' cloak, Lúthien? I had expected a little more from the child of Melian the Maia.”
“Perhaps it is just a cloak!” she snapped. “Once we enter Nargothrond, I shall struggle and scream and the Caves will echo when I announce your deeds!”
“Let her go now,” Celegorm ordered. “We have got what we wanted.”
Curufin released her. She glared at him and then turned on Celegorm, rubbing her arms and hands because Curufin had not cared to be gentle while he held her. Her eyes still burned with the rage she felt, and a fire seemed to have erupted inside her veins and coursed through her.
“I want you to return my cloak, Celegorm,” she said with a strong voice, “and give me a horse, if you will. If you will not help me, then I will go alone, and it would be best if you did not hinder me. It would be little loss if I should die, and neither will it thwart your ambitious plans. You truly have no honor. What on earth do you gain by doing this to me?”
Curufin laughed grimly, and Celegorm shook his head.
“Lúthien, Curufin and I both knew perfectly well you were going to go alone if we had not agreed to help you in the first place. That is why we waited until we had arrived here to take your cloak and reveal the truth to you.”
“You deceived me!”
“I have graciously saved your life.”
“By rights you should be grateful!” Curufin said.
“You will not get away with this! I am Lúthien, Princess of the Sindar!”
“And do you know who I am, Lúthien?” Celegorm said sternly. “I am Celegorm, mighty prince of the Noldor, most powerful among all the princes of the Elves! I am the beast-master and warrior! I command a third of the king's army, and soon, I shall command all of it!”
“Your threats are vain,” Lúthien said wearily. “I do not fear you in the least! You are a contemptible creature, one that I trusted with my whole heart! That trust has now been shattered! Let me go and rescue Beren and the others.”
“You are the last person that could help him.”
“At least I have the courage to do so,” Lúthien said darkly. “I call you cowards!”
“We are willing to let that insult slide off our backs. What we do is for your own sake and for the sake of our people.”
“Even if you and Beren were to succeed in your quest, our Oath would require this,” Curufin added. “Your blood might be required.”
“What of the oath you swore to me and Finrod!”
“Finrod betrayed his own people! He always favored Men, and so we are removed from our oath!”
“As for you,” Celegorm said, “I promised to protect you. And so I must protect you from your own folly I deceived you with noble reason.”
“Noble! What is so noble about attacking me and stealing from me?”
She covered her face, and Celegorm saw that her wrists were bruised, and Curufin had ripped out a strand of her hair during their struggle. Her hair was wild, her eyes wilder still. She felt her heart would burst form her ribs, and her stomach felt queasy. Her face was flushed with wrath.
“I apologize,” Celegorm said sincerely. “It was not my intention for you to be harmed.”
“You brought it upon yourself!” Curufin said angrily. “Look what you did to me!”
Lúthien could not help sneering and replied, “You deserved worse.”
Curufin’s arm still bled. His face had been scratched, and he had been kicked in all his vital places, including between his legs.
“Lúthien, you have every right to be angry with us, but do you know whom Sauron serves?”
“I know perfectly well who,” Lúthien answered through gritted teeth. “And I know who Morgoth is. I am no fool.”
“Have you no fear of the sorcerer at all?”
“Of course. I am mortally afraid of him, but if Beren was brave enough to face him, then I shall go before him also for Beren's sake.”
“Do you know what Sauron could do to you? Your mother is the one he most fears, save his own master. He is not likely to love her daughter. Or he could hand you over to the mercy of Morgoth for a handsome reward. Trust me, Lúthien; Morgoth does not have very much mercy to spare. He has the same feelings.”
“I know my risks,” Lúthien snapped. “But you do not understand: Beren is alive in that tower somewhere, and he needs my help.”
“Beren is already dead,” Curufin said firmly.
“No he is not! My Mother told me he was alive.”
“And how long ago was it when you asked Melian this? Was your mother at all, per say, reluctant to answer your questions? You know that she could have been lying to you to give you hope.”
Lúthien bowed her head and did not answer. Of course she knew that, and she had once doubted it.
“No. That is not true. That is only what you believe!”
“He is dead, Lúthien. He could have been killed as soon as you set out on your quest. It is more than likely. You understand that of course? Or are you even listening to me?”
“Not any longer,” Lúthien covered her ears.
Curufin pulled her hands away and forced her to look him in the face.
“Curufin!” Celegorm said his name with warning.
“He was no use to Sauron, so he killed him. I do not think he even begged for his mercy because he knew that no one would come for him. He was left only for the rats because the wolves had already gorged themselves upon his companions. I am sure that his corpse is rotting away in the pits right now, Lúthien, maggots crawling all over him, feasting upon the remains of his flesh. He is dead, and nothing can change that. You are too late, Lúthien.”
“Curufin!” Celegorm bellowed. “If you do not close your mouth, I will gag you myself! Look at her! You are hurting her. She is in tears!”
Lúthien hid away her face. She had been betrayed again. Her own kin would hold her captive once again. It was too much for her to bear, and she had not even reached Tol-in-Gaurhoth! She was still in the realms of the Elf-Kingdoms! Would she ever have the chance to reach Beren in time?
Curufin did not say another word. He was satisfied. Lúthien had her hands clamped over her ears and was sobbing, blinded by tears. She could not listen. Her heart was so sore with yearning for Beren and at her failure, if she allowed herself to doubt, it would fail her. Celegorm did not cease his glowering at Curufin. He reached down to comfort her, but Lúthien shoved him away, and there was a look of such hate in her eyes that Celegorm felt as though she had stricken him.
“Ah, Lúthien,” he cupped her face in his hands and she would not look him in the face. “You are Sindarin and little more than a girl. You are innocent and naive. I am truly sorry that you have become involved in these great matters, but I have no choice.”
“Why are you wasting your breath, Celegorm?” Curufin scoffed. “Do you expect her to embrace you for your sympathy?”
“Come, Lúthien,” he whispered in her ear, ignoring Curufin's remarks. “We are going now, and I do not think you want Curufin to take the honors of dragging you inside. I am afraid that we must restrict you to the chambers we assign you. You are not permitted to pass the gates or speak to anyone but my brother and I until after the wedding.”
Lúthien suddenly ceased weeping and looked up into his face with suspicion. “Whose wedding?”
“Ours.”
She tried to bolt again, but Curufin caught her in one stride.
“We are going in circles, Princess,” he said grimly.
“I will never marry you!” she shrieked at Celegorm. “I would sooner die!”
“Now is not the time to woo you,” the prince said coldly. “Now, will you come willingly into Nargothrond, or must we drag you?”
Lúthien slowly rose to her feet with as much dignity as she had left, “I will follow you.”
They entered through the side-gate of the Caves of Nargothrond so that they would not attract attention. Lúthien beheld Nargothrond for the first time. It was not as fair as Menegroth, no more than a cheap imitation at best. The Caves of Nargothrond were smaller and fewer, and the Noldoli had not wished to recapture Nature underground. It was fashioned in the manner of cavernous halls in a palace rather than a forest. Much of the city was unfinished. There were incomplete caverns and hallways and some tunnels that led to nowhere or to chasms in the floor. Only the caves housing families were complete and decorated at all, and the Noldoli were less numerous and were scattered about the caves. They passed few people, and Lúthien was surprised when they did. The Noldor were even paler than the Sindar. Apparently, they rarely came above ground. At least in Doriath one could walk about the earth whenever they wished and in safety. There were always hunts and festivals to give them all a good excuse to enjoy the fresh air. Lúthien rarely went out into the sunlight by choice. She loved to look up at the sky without fear of the sun burning her eyes or skin, the animals stirred, and there was less fear of being caught by one of her father’s soldiers.
When the brothers had Lúthien in Nargothrond, they hesitated. They had to decide where to house her. They spoke together in their own tongue.
“Keep her within your chambers!” Curufin said. “You are the one that wants her.”
“She cannot stay in my quarters! She despises me!” Celegorm argued.
“She must learn to tolerate you if you intend to carry out our plan.”
Lúthien laughed so that the brothers turned and stared at her. Then she spoke in their language.
“So, now that you have your captive you must decide what to do with her? I request a chamber as far from you two as possible!”
They looked at her in amaze.
“Oh yes,” she said. “I understand everything you say.”
Curufin frowned at her and said to Celegorm, “There is a small chamber secluded from the others in the innermost part of the Caves. It is a rather cozy place. The princess shall have her wish, and she shall also be kept out of sight and earshot.”
“As good as a cell,” Lúthien said bitterly. “Cold, damp, and devoid of light. I suppose anywhere would be better than Celegorm’s chambers.”
“If it is what you prefer, it is not so much a prison, is it?”
Curufin led her forward roughly.
“Get off me!” she shoved him aside in wrath.
“Be swift!”
“Give me some room to run!” she hissed, “and I guarantee you that I shall fly like an eagle!”
He let Lúthien go free, but when they came to a fork in the path, he pushed her so that she fell to the floor.
“Left turn, highness!”
“Enough, Curufin!” Celegorm said sternly. “You lead. I shall take the rear so that Lúthien shall be between us. There is no more need of force.”
Celegorm tried to take Lúthien’s hand to help her from the ground, but she wrenched free.
“We do not often have guests, so I hope you will forgive our hastiness in preparing you a place,” he apologized, as any good host would.
“Are all your guests taken by force?” Lúthien retorted.
They continued on into the innermost part of the Caves. Lúthien was very footsore when they at last stopped before a door after walking through endless tunnel. Celegorm opened the door and bowed.
“Here are your humble quarters, princess.”
Lúthien looked in terror at the small chamber. There was no furnishing but a bed, and a small fireplace. It was not even lit. She knew also that she was miles underground, and miles away from the Hall.
“What sort of prison is this?”
“It is no prison, Lúthien,” Celegorm answered.
“Then what would you have me call it? All it needs is thick iron bars to be complete!”
“It is just a room. I know that it is a bit cramped, but I do not think you would be any more satisfied in my chamber, would you?”
Lúthien nodded that was so, but she looked into the cubicle again and did not find it much better.
“I am not going in there,” she stated firmly.
“Nonetheless, this is where you shall stay!”
Curufin flung her into the room and slammed the door and locked it. Lúthien cast herself at the door, screaming.
“Celegorm, let me out of here! Let me go! Please let me out of here! You made a promise to me! A promise!”
“You are safe now, Lúthien. Sometimes you do good for others whether they like it or not.”
“Celegorm?” she heard their footsteps fade. “Celegorm! Come back here! How dare you leave me here after all that you have done!”
“Do not tell me that you are still afraid of the dark!” Curufin laughed, and his drawling voice echoed.
Lúthien hated him more than she hated Celegorm, if that was possible.
“Celegorm! Please do not leave me alone!”
The sudden darkness was unbearable. Lúthien had never known such darkness or been confined in such a close space before. For the first time, she felt utterly helpless, alone, and afraid. She pounded upon the door and screamed for Celegorm, hoping that he would return or that she could break the door, but it did not budge and no one came to answer to her cries. When her throat was raw and her knuckles bleeding, she wrapped herself in blankets, longing for her shadowy cloak. She surrendered to the darkness and her despair and wept.
As a final blow, she fell into dreams where a host of nightmares assaulted her. She dreamed of eternal darkness, of Orcs in the shadows and wolves gnashing their teeth, of Celegorm’s smiling face and false sweetness, and Curufin’s ruthless grip and cruel eyes. They both held her down, laughing and pulling at her. Then she ran for what seemed like ages. The darkness clung to her.
Then there was a light, and Beren was in that light. She called out to him, but she found that she was chained. Beren saw her and raised his hand. Then he aged before her eyes. His hair became gray and fell out. His eyes sunk deep into their sockets, and his skin yellowed. His teeth fell out, and he shrank into skin and bones. Soon, there was nothing left but dust and a skull, maggots crawling in their sockets just as Curufin had described.