Chapter 13: The Hound and the Maiden

Thirteen
The Hound And The Maiden

Beren was having nightmares too. He dreamed he held a Silmaril in his hand. He was in Doriath, and Lúthien was dressed as his bride. Even in dream, her face was unclear, too beautiful to be duplicated or imagined. She was smiling, and he felt his heart would explode with joy. But even as he held her in his arms on their wedding night, the Silmaril in his hand became black and scorched his hand. Lúthien became cold in his arms. She was dead, and the bed had become a bed of blood.
He awoke to a living nightmare. The darkness was impenetrable, and he was shivering.
“Who is alive?” was now the common greeting.
“We lost Torec,” Finrod answered. “There are six of us left.”
Beren cursed.
Time passed slowly. Every moment seemed like an age crawling by, and soon, not even Finrod could keep track of the sun and moon tides that the Eldar felt in their bones. To keep themselves form the brink of madness, those that were still alive spoke of younger days.
“My son must have wed by now,” said Arthas, a once cheery Elf. “I feared he would be a bachelor all of his days.”
“I fear that I will die a bachelor,” Duro said grimly.
Duro had found it impossible to escape his despair, and he had not slept in days, fearing that he would be the next torn to pieces in the darkness. Beren was beginning to worry that he would betray them all, but he had not yet. No one’s conviction had wavered.
“Torec made no sound,” Irvin ignored Duro. “Perhaps he is not dead. All of the others screamed. Perhaps Sauron spared him.”
“What if he betrayed us?” cried Corani.
“Then he would not be here,” Finrod told him. “Torec was taken speedily, that is all. He had not the time to cry out to us.”
“I will keep watch,” Duro volunteered for the fifth time. “I cannot sleep anyway.”
Sleeping was the most effective way of passing time, yet they all tired to avoid it as much as possible. They all suffered nightmares, and there was always the risk that they would not wake up again.
Lúthien was always in Beren’s dreams. This time she was laughing in a field of flowers. Then he heard Sauron’s voice again.
Her body is white and fair. Morgoth has become obsessed. Does not the thought of your master crushing a maiden in his hoard amuse you?
A great black shadow fell over Lúthien…
Beren awoke in a cold sweat, “Who is still alive?”
“This is not living,” Duro replied.
“Sauron is letting the threat of death linger a while until his wolf is starving again, no doubt,” Finrod said. “He wants us terrified.”
“I stumbled about the pit while you all slept,” Duro informed them. “Torec is dead. The wolf left his head lying on the floor.”
“Are you certain it is his head?” Arthas asked. “It is so dark…”
“I am quite certain. Torec is vanished, and this is his head.”
“Another blow,” Finrod moaned. “He kept his oath and paid the price in full.”
He said a prayer and was silent.
“If I do not eat something soon, I fear that I shall die before that cursed beast can make a meal of me,” Irvin complained.
“We are all hungry.”
None of them could remember when last the goaler had come with black beer and roasted rats for their bellies. He came at irregular intervals. In truth, it had been five days since they had eaten.
“Half of us should keep watch while the other half rests,” Beren said. “I will keep watch. I do not want to sleep anymore.”
*******
Lúthien’s first three days were spent in complete solitude. She had no desire to speak to the brothers anyway, for no matter how prettily she pleaded, no matter how many tears she shed and how she shouted, Celegorm was unmoved and Curufin ignored her. They had betrayed her, and she felt nothing but bitterness for them. But she soon realized that she had no one else to speak to, so she became very lonely. It was only after the third day that she saw light again and another person’s face. Celegorm’s servants provided her with meals, fire, new straw for her bed, and perfumes of all things. She touched very little of the food and the perfumes not at all. Perfume had always made her dizzy with their overpowering scents and more often than naught damaged her skin. She drank plenty of wine, however, and demanded audience with Orodreth.
He was the steward and the true ruler of Nargothrond while Finrod was absent, at least that is what she thought. He could not possibly tolerate the Sons of Fëanor’s actions. But the servants would not speak to her or even dare to look at her. They only whisked themselves away. No doubt Celegorm had warned them that her beauty would blind them and her voice would bend the will of simple folk. Orodreth did not come and she began to long for any company. Even Curufin would have been welcome. She was alone with her wine and her nightmares. She grew more desperate and more anxious each day to escape.
The hunting party returned on the third day bearing news and dozens of wolf-skins. More than half of the skins were taken on account of Huan. He returned to his master, tail wagging and head held high.
“Good work,” Celegorm patted him on the head.
The hound stared up at him with large yellow eyes expectantly.
“You are curious about the Princess?”
Huan nodded.
“She is taking up residence here permanently. She is to stay here in repose as long as she needs it.”
Huan cocked his head in confusion.
“She may seem to be in the bloom of health, but the illness is within her heart and mind. We abandoned the Quest.”
Huan growled.
“Finrod and Beren are as good as dead. Soon Lúthien will see that too.”
His fur bristled.
“She is not being mistreated. Trust me.”
He barked and gnashed his teeth.
“Do not behave that way. The Princess is safe here. We did not betray her!”
Huan questioned his master deeply about the matter, but Celegorm only told him that he could never understand such matters because he was an animal. This infuriated the Wolf-Hound, and he turned away from his master in disgust. Instead, he went to Lúthien. He followed the girl’s scent and discovered her chamber at last. Furious, he attacked the guards at her door. Celegorm was not pleased.
“You act more like your cousins every day!” he said. “What am I to do with you? Must I lock you up with Lúthien?”
Many of the people in Nargothrond too were appalled at the news that the Princess of the Sindar was there in their city, for Lúthien was not kept secret for long. Hushed whispers soon became an outcry. What was Lúthien daughter of Thingol and Melian doing in the Noldoli kingdom? Why had the princes tried to keep her secret? Why was she not presented to the people? Had her father sent her for simple political talk? The people knew that she was her father’s pet. He would not risk sending her to a Hidden City for idle talk. Perhaps he had he sent her to become their queen? It was always rumored that Thingol had the bachelor King Finrod in mind as a suitor for his daughter. But why send her when Finrod was on a quest?
At that time, Gelmir had gone to Doriath, and Arminas had stayed behind in Nargothrond so that they could both keep an eye on Celegorm and still send messages. Now Arminas had heard news long before about Lúthien's escape from Doriath through Gelmir and had seen her entering Nargothrond with his own eyes. Arminas, full of suspicion and doubt, told Orodreth, Finrod's brother and steward, of her captivity.
“Orodreth wants answers,” Curufin told his brother. “And the people demand them.”
“I cannot deny him. Of course, I shall speak with him.”
“He wants to interrogate you before the throng, and not only you. He wants to question Lúthien as well.”
“Tell him that she is indisposed!”
“But he demands it. If you refuse him, he will return Lúthien to Doriath at once!”
Celegorm frowned and said, “Orodreth wears that crown arrogantly and becomes more pious every day. But he is no public speaker and does not have the favor of the people. They know as well as I that the kingship was thrust upon him temporarily, and only because he is of the royal line. He is not capable of keeping order. It will not be difficult to sway them against him. As long as you can control the mob, you control the kingdom. That is why I so value them. If they had their will, I would be named their king. If Orodreth seeks to turn the small folk against us, the plan will backfire upon him.”
Celegorm entered Lúthien’s chamber unannounced with two maidens at his side. Lúthien sat in the corner with bottles strewn about. In three days, she had not gazed into a mirror, combed her hair, or changed her clothes. She gazed up at the prince with contempt.
“What do you want?”
“These two will be your handmaids. They will make you more presentable.”
“Not for a wedding, certainly,” she grinned.
“You should not drink so much wine.”
The handmaids bathed her and clothed her in garments that Celegorm had chosen. She wore a humble white dress with white lace and refused shoes or a crown. She left her hair free as usual.
“She looks the part of an innocent,” Celegorm whispered to his brother.
“Well, she certainly looks much better than she did,” Curufin replied.
The brothers had also dressed humbly in boiled leather and leggings. Despite their change in wardrobe, their mannerisms were the same. They were above the law and the true leaders of Nargothrond.
“I do apologize for your incarceration,” Celegorm played the gentleman. “But the way you were behaving was unacceptable. I feared for my people’s safety and for your own. I thought you would need some time to adjust. How do you feel?”
Lúthien was speechless and only stared back at him with disbelief.
“From now on, you will be allowed from your chamber as long as you have an honor guard with you at all times, and you may not pass the gates. You will speak to no one save for my brother and myself. Do you understand?”
“No,” Lúthien frowned. “I still do not understand why I am here or where we are going.”
“Then follow me. You may have answers soon enough.”
They brought her to the throne chamber, which stood upon a great pinnacle of rock so that it was in plain sight of the people. The entire populace must have been gathered below and about it, counselors, soldiers, and small folk alike. Lúthien tried to guess how many there were, but that was impossible. It must have been in the tens of thousands. The Sindar were far too numerous for such a gathering as this.
The throne was a single block of stone carved into the likeness of a chair. It was adorned with Finrod’s serpents with jewels for their eyes and a diamond for the flower. No one sat upon it. Orodreth was seated with the small council. Plain stone chairs encircled a pit of flames. Orodreth sat with his back to the throne, his face much hardened by the burden his brother had thrust upon him. His golden daughter Finduilas sat by his side. Arminas was upon Orodreth’s left and nodded at Lúthien. There were others seated she did not recognize, and they were all unsettled.
Celegorm’s servants cast Lúthien before the small council, before the pit so that all could see her. She was bewildered and a little afraid, and the Noldoli gasped at the sight of her. Their murmurs became loud cries.
“Free the Princess!” the mob cried. “Release her, or she will be the death of us all!”
Their words frightened her all the more. With a flash, she realized what her captivity could mean. The Noldor and Sindar had always been suspicious of one another, and she might be the cause of a war between them.
Celegorm stepped beside her and she bowed her head. Then Orodreth raised his hand for silence.
“The daughter of Thingol is certainly not here by choice, nor did I bring her here,” he announced, and he spoke in Quenya. “That was the doing of the Sons of Fëanor!”
“And now, perhaps we may explain why,” Celegorm said.
“You shall!” Orodreth said not too kindly. “We demand an explanation! But first, Lúthien shall be heard.” Orodreth switched to Sindar, “Speak, child, and tell us who you are, whither do you come from, and why you have come to the Hidden Kingdom of Nargothrond.”
Lúthien drew in a breath to speak, but Celegorm prevented her.
“Why do you question her in the foreign tongue? Though there are many learned scholars amongst our people, the small folk cannot understand Sindarin. She is Lúthien daughter of King Thingol and Melian the Maia.”
“The Sindarin heiress?”
“Aye, my lord. This is known to everyone! Why waste our time with such obvious questions?”
“What is a king’s daughter doing in Nargothrond?”
“Her highness is staying in Nargothrond until she has recovered,” Celegorm answered. “We found her upon the road ere we were returning from the outskirts of Doriath. My hound Huan of Valinor was drawn to her scent and saved her from a pack of Sauron’s wolves.”
“If she is ill, then she belongs in the house of healing. Why are you keeping her here? They say that you are keeping her against her will. Many have heard that Lúthien escaped from her father's keeping,” Orodreth inquired.
It was true that the crown had been thrust upon Orodreth. He did not desire the position his brother was more than capable of filling, but he was of the line of ancient kings and was no fool. He had never trusted Celegorm, and what little trust he had was greatly diminished because of the prince’s words at the council in which Orodreth was named Finrod’s steward and not, as had been expected, Celegorm.
“Because the Princess is not ill. She only needs rest, and I feel responsible for her. She is not our captive.”
“That is a lie! Lúthien cried. That is a horrible lie!”
“What was your errand?”
“She was seeking a Quest.”
“Let the Lady speak!”
“Of course, my lord,” Celegorm’s voice dripped with disdain.
Lúthien rose to her feet and Celegorm watched her narrowly.
“First I would like to say that I agree, Lady, that you are indeed the fairest of all Ilúvatar’s children,” Orodreth commented to ease the impatient horde.
“I appreciate your compliments, my lord,” her answer was mechanical.
She had heard this compliment too many times at court for it to affect her and make her blush like a simple-minded girl, and her wrath at Celegorm’s betrayal had been rekindled by his misleading words.
“Why were you wandering in the forest? For what reason did you flee your home and disobey your father’s commands?”
“Good people of Nargothrond,” she began addressing the mob in Quenya, surprising them all. “First I would like to answer the questions that you asked Celegorm. I will speak truthfully. I came to Nargothrond in good faith with the hope that I might receive aid from the Sons of Fëanor. Prince Celegorm promised that if I came with him here, he would grant my desire. But before your very gates, Celegorm and his brother attacked me, stripped me of my only weapons, and betrayed me! I am not here of my own accord. Celegorm is keeping me here against my will and I demand that he fulfill his promise or let me be on my way!”
The roar of the crowd was overwhelming at her announcement. Celegorm placed his hands gently but firmly upon Lúthien’s shoulders. His lips touched her hair, and he felt her stiffen.
“Do not be rash, highness,” he whispered. “In the end you shall only humiliate yourself.”
“ I will let the people decide that,” she answered.
“Well, Celegorm, do you deny this accusation?” Orodreth said.
“No,” Celegorm answered simply.
The entire hall became deathly silent.
“What I said was true. We found her upon our road after a narrow escape from the wargs. She asked me for aid, and I promised I would aid her in any way that I could, if I could. I have kept my promise, but I may have deceived her unintentionally. And if I gave you a false notion, Lúthien, I am indeed very repentant. I hope that you will exonerate me in the future.”
He glanced at her and she returned a dark look. If he was at all sincere, he was using it to draw sympathy from the people.
“She was certain that I would aid her in her Quest,” Celegorm continued. “But I did not aid her only so that I could save her. A strange madness has passed over her. That is why I said that she was weary and must be kept here. I feel obligated to her and I have a strong affection for her.”
“Who would not love such a pretty fay?” Arminas said, unshaken by his pleasant words. “But explain this madness that ails her.”
“Tell them what you told me, Lúthien,” Celegorm commanded. “What is your Quest?”
Lúthien hesitated and wondered what her Quest may sound like to those that heard. Orodreth was waiting.
“My Quest is to rescue Beren and Finrod from Sauron and ultimately win a Silmaril from Angband,” she said, her voice suddenly steady and strong.
There was a stunned silence. Lúthien’s heart sank, and Celegorm grinned. She had never quite realized how ridiculous the Quest seemed until she had spoken it aloud. Then the prince released her and spoke to the crowd.
“Do you not see? An evil spell was cast upon her! She also knew the mortal Beren and is driven by her grief over his loss. For this reason she flew from Doriath. Should I have let her fly heedless into the peril of Angband as well to appease her? I kept my promise. I have not disgraced my name. I have not only saved this maid’s life, I may have saved the Elvin Nation. Lúthien may feel betrayed, as well she should, but when her madness has passed, she shall be very grateful to me.”
“Then why do you not return her to Doriath?” Orodreth demanded.
“She does not wish to return. Ask her yourself.”
“That is true,” Lúthien murmured.
“Speak up, Highness. They cannot hear you,” Celegorm said.
“It is true! I did not wish to return to Doriath! But I do not wish to remain here either! I am not mad! I will fly into peril not for madness but for the sake of Beren, whom I love. As for where I would rather be, I would rather go home to my father than dwell with Celegorm! He is holding me captive for his own aspirations! He wanted Beren and Finrod dead, and he is a traitor!”
“Though I denounced Finrod and Beren’s quest, I did it for the sake of my Oath which I cannot break. I bear the King no ill will. I would attempt to save him if I could. However, he made his choice. He followed Beren into his grave. Sauron immediately captured the company that set out upon the Quest for the Silmaril. Sadly, they are beyond hope of rescue.”
The Noldor were grieved by this news, and Celegorm spoke fondly of Finrod and those that had gone with him. The prince had the charisma of his father, and he was exorcising all of his talent.
“She should be returned to her father. She belongs with her people,” Orodreth said sternly.
“Thingol is a tyrant,” Curufin answered.
Lúthien would not tolerate such insult. “My father is not a tyrant! He is a loving father and a powerful ruler!”
“Is that so, Lúthien?” Celegorm smiled his sly smile. “It seems love can blind us all. Tell the people what your father did when you first attempted to leave Doriath.”
“I was stopped,” she said curtly.
“How?” Celegorm pressed.
“My father’s soldiers.”
“And? Your father is not here to silence you, little one. You are safe. I promised to keep you safe.”
The tenderness in Celegorm’s voice was real, but Lúthien knew his reason for showing it. He wanted her to tell the truth and twist her testimony so that her father appeared to be a monster, she a naïve child, and he her savior. Manipulation was an alien concept to her, but Celegorm used it to his advantage.
“I will not condemn my father!” she blurted.
“Just tell us the truth, Princess,” Orodreth goaded.
“My father’s soldiers brought me before my father, and he would not have me thrown into the dungeons, so they built a house for me in the tallest tree in Doriath.”
“He imprisoned you and did not even keep you safely.”
“No one can ‘keep me’ for long!”
“You be the judge, ye people!” Celegorm said. “Will you permit me to save the daughter of Melian? Do you not desire, as I do, for her to live? What shall we do? Release Lúthien into the Wild where she will only find the Enemy in wait for her or send her back to bondage in her overbearing father’s house?”
The crowds shouted. They agreed that Celegorm’s intentions were pure. They could not see the monster that he was. Orodreth was defeated.
“Very well,” he said at last and very reluctantly. “I will give her to your care since you are so obligated.”
“My good name has not been tarnished. Thank you, Orodreth,” Celegorm bowed and added nonchalantly, “Milord.”
Celegorm took Lúthien by the arm, and she did not struggle and stayed her tears. She knew that she would receive no help from the people before her. Celegorm was a deceiver. She was taken deep into the Caves and into her prison again.
But Orodreth sought out a private audience with the upstart prince and said, “I do not feel that what you are doing is right. You staged that ploy to win the crowd to your cause! I would like an interview with Lúthien so that I might learn the truth of these matters, without you or one of your spies to contort or dictate what she says!”
“What you heard in the throne room was the truth,” Celegorm said very calmly. “I would never lie to the small folk.”
“You twisted it somehow!”
Celegorm shrugged, “The truth is no longer absolute if it is distorted. I told the absolute truth. It must not have been what you wanted to hear.”
“Thingol shall become irate when he learns that we have his daughter and refuse to return her to her own kingdom! She is the heiress of Doriath. She belongs there no matter the strain between her and the present ruler. You must release the Princess at once. I command you in the name of King Finrod!”
“You command me in the name of Finrod, eh?” Celegorm was prepared for the steward. “You and what army? You are nothing, Orodreth, but a name, and all of Nargothrond knows it. You have no troops of your own, and the Sons of Fëanor have many a good warrior at our disposal. For it is well known, that if one dares to commit an infraction against one of the Sons, then all seven are affronted. Finrod’s best officers left with him, and the Royal Troops cannot possibly fight against the wishes of the people. Do you wish to instigate a civil war while the throne is vacant and the peoples’ favor so unclear?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“It is merely a fact.”
“If you do not obey me, you commit treason against your king!”
“Finrod is dead. You are not king and never will be. The populace wants the security of a strong, militant leader during these times. You are not Finrod. You are a weak, blubbering fool and are unprepared for a crown. If they offered it to you in truth, and not just in name, would you even take it?”
“I would if I knew it was going upon your head if I refused!”
“The wheels are already set in motion, my dear steward. Already the people scoff at you in their cups.”
So even Orodreth's heart was swayed. Only Huan of Valinor knew or even suspected what was truly in Celegorm’s heart.
******
King Thingol was sitting at his table with a meal laid out before him when Mablung entered and kneeled at his feet.
“You may rise, and dine with me now that you are here,” Thingol said without looking up from his plate.
“You have not eaten, my lord?”
“With my daughter gone?”
Mablung gave a humble bow and answered, “I understand, my lord. But I have tidings that may lift your spirits.”
“Leave me. I have not the heart to listen to tedious reports.”
“Yes, my lord,” Mablung said, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “I know that you are weary of lighter matters, but these tidings concern the Princess.”
Thingol rose from his seat at once, “Have you found her? Is she here?”
Mablung laughed, “I knew that would have you at attention. Now, my lord, may I give you the full report?”
“I must have every detail! Where is she? Has any harm befallen her?”
“My lord, after she escaped, we were unable to track her for very long, but we know from the messages that we have received that Lúthien was on the outskirts of Doriath and had even reached the Guarded Plain when her path crossed some of the Noldoli princes. In fact, my lord, one of the princes has something to say.”
Mablung handed the King a script, and the seal of Fëanor was upon it. Thingol looked upon the crest with disdain, for he had little love for the Sons of Fëanor. He had half a mind to refuse the Noldoli messenger and burn the letter, but he opened up the message, hoping it would tell him more about his daughter.
“Have you told the Queen?” he asked Mablung.
“No. I went to you first,” Mablung told him, and then he could not conceal his excitement any longer. “Thank Ilúvatar that she is alive!”
“Yes, but now you may sit and eat, for I have no appetite for such food. I must feast upon these tidings and see what the great and powerful Prince Celegorm has to say to me.”
“Very well, my lord. Should I consult the Queen?”
“No. I shall speak with her soon enough.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Mablung sat at the table, but he did not eat the food. Once the King had left the hall, he ran to spread the news.
Thingol stowed himself away and read the words of Celegorm by candlelight. His script was fine and graceful and was written in fine golden ink. It had all the pleasant features necessary, but Thingol frowned, for it was written in Quenya, the Forbidden Tongue, and instead of a signed signature, there was the star of Fëanor, emblem of the house of princes.

Elu Thingol Gray-mantle, King of Doriath and beloved of his people, the Sindar, Teleri, and the Laquendi, Lord of the Thousand Caves . . .

I, Prince Celegorm, third of the seven sons of Fëanor, send you my most humble greetings as a friend and ally during these times. I have great news for you, both good and bad, yet both are imperative to your wisdom. The troubles of Nargothrond are of paramount importance to all the realms of Arda, and I fear for this great realm. My lord, I wish that all that I had to inform you of was indeed happy tidings, but sorrow is a thing not uncommon to our race. We suffer it as we must. But this must be indeed the most evil of tidings and the most grievous since my father Fëanor was lost. I write this letter with both joy and sorrow, and perhaps some of what I say will lighten your cares.
First, my spies and scouts and those of Nargothrond have reported that the Enemy is growing bolder. Orcs crop up everywhere in great numbers, constantly raiding any small settlements, capturing or torturing to death all that they find. They wield better quality weapons than ever before and are becoming increasingly well organized. Wolves and Wargs sent from Tol-in-Gaurhoth (formerly Minas Tirith) are becoming a common sight in Nargothrond. They became a nuisance when a certain mortal called Beren arrived several months ago.
Beren invoked King Finrod’s oath made to his father Barahir, a Man long since dead. Finrod was forced to accept Beren’s terms as a result of this cruel trick and took several of our people on this now infamous ‘Quest for the Silmaril’ and moved deep into Enemy territory and was captured by Sauron. A rescue would be impossible, and if it were possible, it would already be too late, I fear. King Finrod is dead, and Beren is dead, and all those good lads that went with them on this misadventure. Even as I saw them depart upon the Road, I knew in my heart that I would never see their fair faces again. This has been a tremendous loss to the Noldor and all of Beleriand. Our people are restless. The city of Nargothrond has been in mourning. Finrod named Orodreth steward, but there is talk that he shall resign his position and the Crown shall be passed to another by popular vote. The tension has everyone fearful for our future.
I know Finrod was your ally, and that you have long had friendship with him. It is my hope that the alliance between our people will continue to be strong. I have words that may give small comfort, if you would heed them. He died a noble death, for he defied the sorcerer Sauron. It was a valiant death, and he shall be well rewarded for it. Few among the great and the Wise now are bold enough to stand steadfast against the onset of the Enemy. And though his death was most likely cruel, he has gone to the Blessed Realm and dwells with his father who defied Gothmog, lord of Balrogs. All I regret is that we have no body to anoint. Memory must serve us now, and memory is enough during these dark times.
As for Beren son of Barahir, Lord of the Edain and of his race, I know that you had less love for him, and I had no warm feelings for him either, but he was regarded for great deeds, and he was revered as his father’s son. Finrod has redeemed his oath to Men, whom he loved so dearly. I refuse to shed tears. We quenched ourselves of tears in the Battle of Sudden Flame. May it be that we shall have our revenge!
Not all is as dark as it seems. We have had some mirth here in Nargothrond. I have also written this letter in order to console you of a matter that is of greater concern to Doriath in particular. We have long since heard that the Lord of the Thousand Caves grieves for a most precious treasure that flew from his kingdom. Your daughter, Lúthien the enchantress, heiress of Doriath and all your tributaries, your only offspring and fairest that has come before or ever shall be. Now, you should rejoice and grieve no more. She has been found.
By chance, it seems my brother and I stumbled upon Lúthien herself just right outside of your door, in Nivrim, while hunting Sauron’s wolves. She is alive and well, safe here in Nargothrond under guard and ample care. My lord, I have found this task to be a light burden, and even delightful. The Princess is in my capable hands and she dwells in one of the greatest cities East of the Sea. However, she does not wish to return to Doriath, and I cannot force her to leave.
Ere I end, I must also ask of you a great thing. Over the days that Lúthien has dwelt in the city, all have taken joy in her. I have a confession to make to you. Her presence has been of greatest joy to me. I have grown fond of her, as I said, but I feel now that I have found the bride that I have long missed. I have come to admire her fiery spirit and was stricken by her beauty. She grieves for her mortal lover, I for my kinsman Finrod and for my people. Lúthien has become dear to my soul over a short period, and indeed, when I first looked upon her, I loved her.
I will wed her. Please consider all that I say carefully, and again, I say that Lúthien is safe here. I await your favorable reply. I hope that such a union would be blessed and shall cement our alliance. I shall continue to report of the Noldor’s state in Nargothrond and of your daughter’s progress since there is none other qualified to do so.

CELEGORM

The letter angered Thingol. Though the Noldoli prince’s letter was cordial, any fool could catch the mockery beneath the courtesy and notice the subtle hint of a threat. Celegorm constantly reminded Thingol that the throne was vacant and would likely be seized by him. His influence in Nargothrond was great, and he was of the royal bloodline. His elder brothers were unfit for the throne of Nargothrond. Meadhros’ only purpose was the Oath of Fëanor and vengeance. He had been offered kingship once before and refused it. Maglor was only interested in music and philosophy. His younger brothers would be little better. Caranthir had the blackest mood, and the young twins found everything amusing.
Also, Celegorm mentioned that he had come upon his daughter in Nivrim, only several leagues away from where Thingol’s search parties had been. He could have brought her to them then and there. Instead, he had taken her to Nargothrond. He wondered if she was even being treated according to her status. Neither was Celegorm asking for her hand, he rather asked for Thingol’s blessing. ‘I will wed her.” and, “I await your favorable reply’ he said. The arrogance of that Kinslayer! Already he spoke as though he were king of Nargothrond and Lúthien his queen. Beren had never been worthy of his daughter. He was a mortal and heir of a fallen House. But Celegorm was little better. Though he was a crowned prince very likely soon to be a king, he was a Son of Fëanor. He had a curse upon his soul, and he was far too ambitious for Thingol’s taste. All the Sons of Fëanor had a taint to them.
The words caused a paternal anger and hate like bile to rise in his throat. He was boiling with such wrath that he did not wait for the queen to come to him. He burst into her bower. Her handmaids scattered in fear except for Laisie and Artanis, Celeborn’s wife.
“Elwë, do you not respect my privacy?” Melian asked without rage or scorn. It was a genuine question. “It must be something frightfully upsetting for you to come to me instead of summoning me properly.”
“Indeed it is! Pardon me for skipping formalities. This has to do with our daughter!”
“Of course. If it were anything else, you would not be so impulsive.”
“Send the girls away!”
“You will not be rid of me so easily!” Laisie answered. “If it has something to do with Lúthien, I have as much a right as you to hear of her fate.”
Thingol was about to object, but Melian spoke first, “Of course you may remain here. Artanis may remain as well. She is family now. The others, I am afraid, must hear of this second-hand. It is no loss, girls. We know nothing of the Princess’ whereabouts for certain, but when we know, we will tell you.”
The handmaids attempted to hide their disappointment and bowed before they departed. These were family matters, after all, and surely they would tackle Laisie in the halls later to gossip when she came for her meal the next day. Artanis did not move from her seat and was silent.
Thingol did not hesitate. He told Melian heatedly of the message. Then he grabbed a quill and a parchment to write a direct response.
“Think carefully before you reply, Elwë,” his wife’s calm voice forced him to pause. “Celegorm has our daughter’s life in his hands.”
“He speaks as though he were king already. How dare he ask me such a thing? To think that my daughter would be given to the likes of him! I would sooner wed her to Celeborn! She shall be returned to me at once! The Noldor have already slain the sons of the Teleri,” he said bitterly. “Do they wish to steal the Sindarin daughters as well?”
“The prince does not lie in his letter, but there is little truth either. Lúthien would never have gone to Nargothrond willingly. I have no doubt he ensnared her somehow. She had just escaped from Doriath for the purpose of rescuing Beren. She loves him-“
“No, she is bewitched!”
Melian and Artanis exchanged glances, and then the Queen continued, “I wonder. Bewitched then. She would never abandon her quest. There is evil in the Sons of Fëanor’s actions.”
“On that, we can agree, wife,” Thingol growled.
“Lúthien was vulnerable once she set foot outside of the Girdle. Celegorm must have seized her then or deceived her. The latter is most likely. It was neither wolves nor Orcs that she needed to fear. It was a fair and friendly hand.”
Thingol cursed under his breath. “But what he told me in this message has me perturbed. Melian, is it true that Finrod is dead, and that Beren is dead?”
“There is no proof of it.”
“But are they dead?”
“I cannot say.”
“Very well, my queen. Keep your secrets from me. That is what you have been doing since this all started!”
“It is most convenient that during the King’s absence, Celegorm is planning to wed a royal bride and Orodreth steps aside for him without a fight. He was either threatened or blackmailed.”
“What a vile scheme! I knew Celegorm was ambitious but treacherous as well?” Thingol shouted. “And using my child as a tool to ensure his power . . .”
“He would never harm her. That would gain him nothing,” Melian reassured him. “I do not know for certain what his true motives are behind his proposal. Perhaps he only thirsts for the power he would gain through Lúthien. Perhaps he does love her. Maybe it is a little bit of both. But he can keep her.”
“I will not allow it! She belongs here with her people.”
“With her father, you mean,” Artanis spoke up.
“She may take my place one day,” Thingol defended. “As the death of Finrod proves, even an Elf-king can be slain. He is not the first, nor will he be the last. And with Finrod dead, leaving no proper heir behind, the Sons of Fëanor may ascend the throne. They would drag us into war all for the sake of their Silmarils.”
“What will be your reply?”
“Give me a parchment.”
*******
Lúthien was wandering the Caves alone. The brothers were loosening their grip upon her with the passage of time. She no longer needed her ‘honor guards’ when she left her chamber. The Noldoli usually avoided her, and the gates were guarded so she could not escape. But today was different. A tall, slender figure of an Elf approached her, still dressed in his mud-stained traveling gear, and then she turned and Celebrimbor saw her features close for the first time. Her striking beauty astounded him- the long dark hair flowed like a river down her back and her face, pale despite the bright glow of the fire of the torches, was both beautiful and finely drawn.
For a moment she stared at him, searching his gaze, and then turned and made as if to leave the room. Celebrimbor hesitated and then spoke.
“Forgive me, Lady,” he said. “I have come but lately from the wild and have not had time to change.”
“It is I who should beg forgiveness, sir, for my ill manners,” she replied. “When first I saw you I thought you were someone else so that I appeared rude.”
“Whom did you mistake me for?” the Elf asked, throwing back his hood.
She looked at him closely, “You are a spitting image of your father, Celebrimbor.”
She smiled then and Celebrimbor felt at once as though the Caves were bathed in a golden light. She had smiled so seldom these days. “It is wonderful just to speak to someone again!” she explained.
About her neck, he glimpsed a narrow silver chain that bore the ring he knew so well; twin serpents entwined about a crown of golden flowers. She caught his gaze and turned the ring in her fingers.
“Yes, it is the same,” she said. “I see in your eyes that your father must have told you why I am here.”
“He has told me some, my lady.”
“Celegorm plans to take me as his bride, and if he does, he shall also seize the throne of Nargothrond. That would make you his heir, at least until he gets me with child. Congratulations.”
Celebrimbor became pale, “My father mentioned nothing of this! Forgive my ignorance! I have only just arrived home to find the whole city in an uproar! I am so confused…. You say that you are to wed Celegorm, yet you wear the Ring of Barahir. I thought that he was merely keeping you here for your safety.”
Lúthien looked at the youth closely, for that is what he was and among the younger generation of Noldoli. He had the blue eyes of his line, Fëanor’s eyes, but the golden hair of his mother. Could she trust him?
He must have sensed her doubt. “I am listening, my lady.”
He came for Lúthien that night, and with him, she tried to escape. They had almost made her way out of Nargothrond, but Curufin had been there near the gates by coincidence. He recognized her and stopped her.
“You!” Curufin was outraged when he recognized his son. “What are you doing here?”
“Father-“
“I will deal with you later!”
“Damn you to hell, Curufin!”
He threw her to the ground. “Save your curses, child!”
“Call me not so!” she hissed. “You may be perhaps a thousand years older and wiser than I, but I do not need to grovel before your feet!”
“I do not know what my brother sees in you that he is willing to put up with you. You will not go near my son again! He has never gone against me before. What did you do to him?”
“I did not seduce your son to help me!” Lúthien cried in outrage. “You are sinning against heaven gravely for this! Celebrimbor, how can you call him father?”
“Hold your tongue,” Curufin whispered.
“I will not hold my tongue! Celebrimbor, your father and uncle are the reason why I suffer now! They are liars, thieves, and murderers. Even as they plot against me they plot against Finrod and Orodreth. They will stop at nothing to gain the throne, including deceiving the small folk. He and Celegorm told me with their own lips of their treachery. Must you add to the Fëanor name?”
That was when Curufin lost all control. He struck her so that she fell backwards. Celebrimbor stood in frozen astonishment and disbelief. Even Curufin seemed surprised at his own outburst. Celegorm had forbidden him to strike her. It was too visible a sign of oppression. The people might notice and begin to suspect the brothers.
“Blame yourself!” he hissed. “My brother may be blinded by your beauty, but I am not. Remember that, Lúthien!”
Curufin narrowed his eyes at her, as if daring for her to say something more, but she did not speak. She did not fear being struck again. It gave her a sense of pride that she could control her anger better than he and if he continued to beat her, he would be exposed for what he was. Curufin returned her to her chamber and went to report to his brother. Celebrimbor slipped away, knowing he could never look at his father the same way again.
“Here,” Celegorm thrust a parchment at his brother. “Read it.”

Celegorm,

You are bold and ambitious, prince, but you presume too much. My alliance extended only to the Children of Indis and to the small folk, never to the upstart Sons of Fëanor. If Orodreth is crowned, as he should be, I will negotiate with him gladly. However, I would like to offer my thanks to you for finding my daughter. For that, I will choose to forget your insolence. I ask now that you return Lúthien safely to her homeland. I would never force my daughter to wed, and I am afraid that you lack the qualities of a faithful and honorable husband. Your wife and mistress is your bloody oath, and I doubt your motives for asking my daughter’s hand. Therefore, if you do not return my heir within a reasonable amount of time, I will have no choice but to make war upon Nargothrond. I need not remind you that my army outnumbers your own, nor will they relent for the sake of their princess. Return Princess Lúthien to Doriath!
Elwë Thingol
Melian

Curufin was astonished. He had never expected the peace loving Sindar to threaten war! A war of Elf against Elf! How Morgoth would laugh and how the Valar would weep and curse! Such a war would be the Kinslaying a hundred thousand times over, and all for the sake of a maiden.
“He must be bluffing.”
“Somehow, I think not,” Celegorm said. “It is well known how much Thingol loves his daughter.”
“And what if we went to war? Each one of our soldiers is worth ten of the Sindar’s!”
“I do not think it wise to underestimate them,” Celegorm warned. “Unlike Morgoth, the Sindar know the ways of the wild as well as stone. Thingol knows exactly where Nargothrond is. The Sindar outnumber us. Also, the Queen signed the letter as well. I had forgotten about her.”
Celegorm and Curufin regarded her signature with disquiet. The entire letter had been in Thingol’s hand except for the queen’s signature. Those few pen strokes were the last on the parchment, almost an afterthought, yet it stood apart from the others.
“She is the true power behind Thingol’s throne. She is the one that keeps Doriath fenced off from the world with her magics. She is a Maia, rumored to be kin with Yavanna. I do not seek divine wrath. We want the Sindar as allies, not as enemies.”
“Things might be made easier if you could get the Princess with child,” Curufin suggested. “You must take her now!”
“What?”
“If Lúthien carriers your child, she will belong to you, and it will become Thingol’s heir as well as the heir of Nargothrond! The people cannot possibly reject a child of two royal bloodlines! But you must take her now while you have the chance!”
Celegorm considered that notion for a moment. He remembered how Lúthien had looked that day in the sunshine, the first time that he had laid eyes upon her. She was so beautiful and desirable. It was no lie that he wished to take her without consequences, to hold her in forbidden and passionate embrace. He desired above all things to possess her. If she bore a child, Thingol would be forced to acknowledge it as his own, and Celegorm as the father. Then he would have a strong son to inherit his throne or a little daughter as lovely as her mother that would grow to become a fair queen.
But he quickly shoved his lustful thoughts from his mind. Forcing Lúthien would be evil in the eyes of the Valar and all things holy. He would also risk the loyalty of the people. They had approved of keeping her in Nargothrond until she recovered from her ‘illness’. It had taken all of his persuasive power to sway their hearts. Would they forgive him if he committed such an unspeakable act? Could he even bring himself to do it? It would certainly turn the girl’s heart from him forever. But her heart may never turn. And even if he did manage to get her with child, there was no guarantee it would survive and be accepted. Thingol and the rest of the Eldar could reject the child as no more than a bastard and an abomination.
“I am not sure I can do such a thing.”
“What is it that you lack, Celegorm? The courage or the stamina?”
“I lack the cruelty required for such an act.”
“And forcing her hand is not as cruel? Just because she says the words does not make it less evil or cruel. If you will not take the girl, then I shall do the deed for you,” Curufin declared.
Now Celegorm looked at his brother in a new light. Curufin had never shown the slightest interest in Lúthien before. But then again, he was no longer a married man. His wife was dead and his son Celebrimbor was fully grown. The girl was the fairest in the world. No doubt even he had succumbed to her charms. Celegorm had once thought that Curufin was the better of them. After all, it was Celegorm that planned the deception and was determined to wed Lúthien, but Curufin seemed to relish it all. He was always too rough handling Lúthien. She seemed to fear and hate Curufin more than Celegorm, and what he had volunteered shocked him. Now he realized that his brother was by far the viler of the brothers. He had thought he knew his younger brother so well, but he was wrong.
“No!” Celegorm said firmly. “I would rather not share Lúthien, and her child should be my own.”
“Very well. But you have no time to consider and no time for remorse and reason.”
“Let me remind you, Curufin, that Lúthien is my ward and I will decide what is to be done with her.”
“Allow me to remind you that coddling the Princess is a mistake. She made an attempt to escape today. I suggest that you, her established keeper, keep her a little better.”
“And what of your own son?” Celegorm gave it right back to him. “I hear it was he that aided her attempt. You have explained matters to him I trust?”
Curufin colored, “Not exactly.”
“How unfortunate when you are betrayed by your own blood. If you had any hope of Celebrimbor becoming my heir, abandon all hope now! I will beget sons upon Lúthien but I will do it in the proper manner. Did you handle her gently?”
“I keep telling you, Celegorm,” Curufin told his brother. “You should choose a bride perhaps of lesser beauty, but with a less haughty tongue. She cursed me, of course, but she also scorned our father. And then she defiled my name in front of my son and I lost myself. I struck her.”
“If there are bruises, Curufin, I shall have to deal with it as I see fit,” he said angrily.
“Well, I do not regret it. But you must make it clear to Lúthien that she cannot go on as she is.”
Suddenly, Huan, who had been hiding behind the door, leaped upon Curufin, knocking him to the floor. The hound snarled in the younger brother’s face.
“Get your mongrel off of me!”
“Huan, enough!”
The Wolf-Hound nipped at Curufin’s throat to draw a single drop of blood, and then returned to his master’s side.
“That was a warning,” Celegorm explained. “If you mistreat Lúthien again, Huan promises a mangled arm. I will not be able to stop him even if I wanted to.”
“Your damnable dog is as love struck as you are, Celegorm!” Curufin hissed as the small prick began to heal rapidly. “Make him guard the wench!”
“Perhaps I shall. Huan obeys me in all things, unlike someone I know.”
Curufin regained his feet, “You are growing soft, brother. You do not listen to wise counsel anymore either.”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Celegorm replied with sudden resolve. “I agree that the Princess has too much free reign. My servants are too generous, and I often forget that Lúthien is the daughter of a Maia. Huan seems immune to her magic. He can guard her better than most. As for Thingol, he is a fool, and his threats are empty. He would not dare make war upon Nargothrond, especially if Lúthien is wed to me and accepted as my queen. We should begin the preparations for the wedding.”
“What of an heir?”
“That may come later. We shall not discuss this matter again, understood?”
Curufin nodded. Celegorm turned to Huan.
“Come,” he said. “We should discuss these matters with Lúthien.”
*******
Huan waited outside of the door of Lúthien’s chamber, flattening his ears at the sounds of their heated bickering.
“What am I going to do with you?” Celegorm stepped before her, shaking his head with some amusement. “Trying to escape, Lúthien?”
“But of course, and I will not give up until I have succeeded!” Lúthien answered.
“I gave you clear warning and I have already restricted your area. What must I do to make you realize that I am decided about keeping you here?”
“What are you going to do if I continue to try and escape? Would you kill me, Celegorm?” she said quite rashly.
“Oh no,” he answered softly. “Why would I do that?”
“You have committed such a crime before!”
“If you want my advice, Celegorm,” Curufin said in Quenya, “you should put her in chains. It should have been done the moment we brought her here. That 'fire' that you talk about is fierce, and I am usually the one that has to deal with her.”
“And you deserve everything you get!” Lúthien snickered in the same language and then changed to her native dialect. “And you are one of very short memory, Prince Curufin.”
“Locking her up might also put a restrain on that tongue of hers.”
“Thank you, Curufin. I appreciate the advice, but I will decide how best to deal with this matter on my own, if you do not mind.”
“That would be a pleasant change.”
“It may be easier if you left!”
Curufin did not move and Celegorm sighed. Then Celegorm put a hand under Lúthien's chin and studied her face. She recoiled at the touch.
“No bruises,” he muttered. “Good. I am sorry Curufin hit you. It shall never happen again. You have my guarantee.”
“As for that, I ask that he keep his distance from me from now on!” Lúthien said, giving Curufin a dark look.
“Gladly,” he replied.
“You cannot keep me locked up here forever, and you know it, Celegorm,” Lúthien said gently, and it was the first time she had lowered her voice. “You would not keep me here.”
“I have the power.”
“Then shackle me!” Lúthien laughed at him. “Go on, shackle me! The Noldor would turn on you in an instant, and you know it! I also have my own power, and I can escape. If you truly knew my lineage, you would know that I have more power than you might imagine. My Father is powerful as well. I know that he must have sent out many Elves to look for me, and once they find out that you are keeping me here, there shall be hell to pay!”
“Your father already knows that you are here. I sent messengers to Thingol asking for your hand in marriage ages ago, and he gave me a reply.”
Lúthien tossed back her head and laughed, “I am already betrothed to another, thank you.”
“It is no laughing matter,” Celegorm said gravely, turning to face her. “Your father wishes that I return you, but I cannot do that. There are many reasons why, and when you hear those reasons and the consequences of releasing you, you will consent to a marriage.”
All humor left her, and she said, “I would never marry you! You are a liar and a traitor to your own king. You are no better than Morgoth himself!”
“I never lied to you.”
“What is your interpretation of a lie, Celegorm? Allow me to see it from your perspective. Humor me!”
“You know that you could have never faced Sauron-”
“You promised me you would help me before. And you lied! You lied, and what a foul lie! You gave me naught but false hope!”
“I did so at the price of your life.”
“And it was also a perfect excuse for you to keep me here,” she answered sarcastically. “To work to your advantage.”
Lúthien was being fearless, but she was also putting herself into peril. Even Celegorm had a breaking point. He seized Lúthien roughly. Then Huan sprang forward with a growl and bit Celegorm’s outstretched hand. He was astonished. Never in all their years of companionship had Huan ever sank his teeth into his flesh. Then Celegorm struck back. Huan yelped from the pain and began licking his snout, which had suffered the blow the worst.
“Celegorm!” Lúthien shouted, outraged. “When did you become so cruel?”
“The beast must learn his place.”
Huan backed out of the doorway, but once Celegorm's back was turned, he sat down again in his original place
“Is it your own desire to be locked away?”
“You do not have the fortitude to do it.”
“Very well. I feared I would have to do this, but I cannot bear the responsibility. You brought it upon yourself, after all.”
Lúthien had spent her days in a prison of all forms. Huan almost burst into the room, baying as harshly as he could at his master, wishing that he could bite him, but he hesitated, not daring to do so for a second time.
“Guards, the Princess is to be restricted to her bower until the wedding.”
“One of these days, Celegorm,” Lúthien said with a scowl, “you will be at my mercy, and I shall judge you more fairly.”
Celegorm stooped to kiss her, but she recoiled.
“Do not provoke me!” she hissed. “I swear that if you were to lay one finger on me, I would have you singing soprano for a week! My Father will never approve of your request. Is that why you told him you had found me at all? Were you trying to earn my Father's gratitude for recapturing me?”
“I was simply trying to save you!”
“Well, whatever you call it, it will not matter to my Father. He always hated your beloved Fëanor, and he does not have very much love for his sons either. What was his reply?”
“Thingol’s answer is not necessary, Lúthien. The wedding will take place soon.”
“What! Let me see the letter!”
“Your father did not betray you. He refused me, but I am a prince, and a powerful one at that.”
“You think that will intimidate my Father who is lord and king of Doriath? His realm is a haven from all threat. You may be powerful, but I know where that power comes from,” Lúthien said grimly. “You think I do not know the tales of your deeds? As an Elvin-child, I learned of the warrior-sons and Fëanor in the days of his glory. Your power comes from battle, Celegorm. Might alone cannot win against my people.”
“You misunderstand me. Listen to my logic. If you were to become my wife, I promise you, you would be well cared for. In Doriath your beauty is famous, and it shall be the same here.”
“And then you would depart for battle. I would be left alone with your seed,” Lúthien was unimpressed. “And when the time comes, you shall have him fostered to become a great ambitious warrior like you. That is not a good enough reason for my Father and certainly not for me.”
“If there were one worthy of you, Lúthien, it would be me. I am Celegorm the fair, high prince of the Noldor, and you are Lúthien the fair, heiress of the throne of the Sindar. And you cannot deny that our union would unite all of Middle-Earth.”
Now Lúthien was silent and could think of nothing to say. What Celegorm was saying was all too true. It did seem like a perfect match, and the Noldor and the Sindar would become kin. Celegorm noticed that Lúthien understood, and he knelt beside her and spoke again, looking her in the eye.
“Unity. Do you know what that word means to our race, Lúthien?”
“Peace.”
“No. It means more than that. It means many, many things more than that. If you and I were to link the chains needed between the Noldor and the Sindar, than all the people would become one and more powerful than they could be standing alone. Tell me you do not want that for your people. The ever-increasing mortals would no longer choke us. They live, and they increase. Men will soon replace our people. Only a few years ago, mortals could only be found in the Wild, a lost and barbaric people. They lived in huts and spoke unintelligible languages. But now, they speak Elvin-tongues, and they are seen in lands all about Middle-Earth. Beren smuggled his way into Doriath, a land thought untouchable by mortal hands!”
“Men are simply our younger brothers! They are a noble race; you have no right to judge them!” Lúthien said defensively.
“You know absolutely nothing of the ways of Man! I have dwelt in Nargothrond for many years, and during those years, I have had to tolerate their race. I have seen how they really live. They are like the flame of a candle, controlled only by their emotions and their desires, bringing misery upon themselves. They are corrupt and frivolous. They wed young, and then their men go off to reckless war with each other for riches and the spoils of land and are slain, leaving the mothers alone with children that they cannot take care of and never wanted in the first place. It is a wonder that their race has lasted this long! They multiply, and they multiply, faster than they can manage despite their sickly nature. And it is a common thing for a man to put aside his wife. Oh yes, it is true, Lúthien. They only need a small excuse to abandon their sacred vows. And even if they are married, they still cannot keep to one bed!
“You see, Lúthien, mortals do not love as the Eldar love. I am not quite sure they are capable of it. They get a rise from a pretty girl and when that fleeting passion has passed, they move on to the next one, and the next one, resulting in more and more bastard children. You are not a common woman, however. Any man would desire you, no man would resist, but once Beren has gotten you with child, you will not be the maiden you were. He will take a momentary interest in the child, perhaps, and that will be the last you see of him.”
“I do not believe you,” she said at last.
“Of course you do not, but if you should ever find Beren, ask him of this, and he will tell you that I speak the truth. And then what will you do when the first gray hairs sprout from his head?”
“I know that ageing is a part of mortality. It does not repulse me.”
“You have not seen an aged mortal.”
“I do not believe your lies and I do not care to listen to them anymore!”
“And I suppose that you care not either for your own kin,” Celegorm began again. “The Noldor and the Sindar were once allies. Our genealogies are the same. Together, we could not only stamp out the nuisance that Man has become, but we may finally accomplish the one thing we have been yearning for: The Fall of Angband.”
“The Fall of Angband?” Lúthien made plain her disbelief. “I see! So once you have all the Elf-Kingdoms under your dominance, you purpose to start a war of ultimate good and evil. You would win back the Silmarils by force and bring peace with a sword! You would be the savior that we have long looked for. Then you would take the Silmarils as well as Morgoth’s place and become as corrupt as he! You are truly ambitious! Now let me shed some light on you, and you shall hear the truth at last! That is not how it shall be. Morgoth cannot be destroyed by the Elves alone or defeated with a front on attack! And the Silmarils are damned! They are a curse to the Elves, and you cannot win them.”
“We would have a better chance of success than a mortal and a young She-Elf alone,” Celegorm said dryly. “We would win back the Silmarils, for they are the reason why my people left Valinor: To gain them back and take revenge on our Enemy. I would then return to Valinor by the Straight Road and beg for my own salvation. And you would be rewarded as well. You would become princess of the Noldor, the Sindar, and the Teleri. You would also be my princess, and soon, a queen. You could be the key to bringing all the might of the Elf-Kingdoms together. You and I might rule all of Middle-Earth.”
“I have no interest in your aspirations. I do not wish to be queen,” Lúthien answered. “I do not wish to be your princess. Nor do I want to become your pawn to gain power, nor your tool to win great alliances! I shall have no part in these matters. Is that what you want from me?”
Celegorm sighed and shook his head. “I want you. I have heard that every young bachelor in Doriath has had his heart set on you. You have a hundred suitors, but Thingol spurned them all. Your adolescent years must have been difficult. Boys were chasing you wherever you went, and those that you showed affection for would never be.”
“It was not difficult. Who says I enjoyed being chased?”
“I could make you happy here.”
“But you must understand that I left my home where once I was happy. My own loved ones betrayed me. I traveled all this way and imperiled my life. It is for one reason.”
“Beren!” Celegorm struggled not to lose his temper. “Mortals die every day! There is no reason to get all upset about it!”
These words were so cruel that Lúthien would have sprung at the prince, but she stared at him with a piercing glance.
“I love you, Lúthien. Does that mean nothing?”
“It has done me nothing but ill!”
“Whether you feel anything for me or not now does not matter. You may grow to love me in time.”
Celegorm put his hand on her cheek. She glared at him and turned her face away with a great look of hate and disgust.
“Do not touch me. Did I not give you a clear warning before?”
“I wish you would at least give me a chance.”
“You could never give me happiness! You guileful, ambitious monster! Is there nothing that will melt the ice in your veins?”
“Tell me! Is it possible for love to grow between us?”
“I doubt now that you could even regain my friendship. I have lost all my respect for you. Neither could you ever offer me the happiness that Beren and I shared. Beren and I have a bond that is stronger and more powerful than the threat of Morgoth and all the peoples of the Eldar. No one can break that bond. Not my father, not Daeron, not Morgoth, and not you, Celegorm. You are a handsome and noble prince of the Noldor, I must admit that, but that does not appeal to me. My heart and my fate are bound to Beren's. Even if he were dead, it would make no difference. He is and always will be alive, for he is part of me and I am part of him.”
“Your beloved Beren is dead.”
“Show me his body!
“Do you know what Sauron’s prisons are like? A few days there, and you lose yourself. I can guarantee you that he is dead.”
“I could never love you as I love him, dead or not.”
Celegorm stared into her eyes and said, “With ease, perhaps.”
Suddenly, he saw how the light that danced at Lúthien’s throat.
“What is that?” he demanded.
Lúthien tucked the Ring of Barahir inside her bosom again and did not answer. Celegorm had never noticed the ring before, but he knew that no ordinary thing could absorb and give off such light. He began walking towards her with a demanding look upon his face. She rose and went for the door, but he was not far behind her. He leaped and barred her way, then seized her by the throat. She protested, but he drew out the ring. He recognized it at once as the ring that King Finrod had given to Barahir and realized that Beren must have given the ring to her in troth, and he held it aloft.
“Did Beren give this to you as a memento before he set out upon his Quest for Death? How sweet.”
Then he tore the ring from its chain.
“Beren gave this to you in engagement?”
“It does not matter.”
“It does matter.”
“Give it back. That is mine.”
“If I must cut him from your heart, I shall.”
“You have stripped me of everything! Must you take the last thing I hold dear? I wish I had never lain eyes on you!”
He locked her within the room again, taking the ring with him. Lúthien was crushed and begged him to give it back, but Celegorm would not yield. That ring had been the only thing she possessed that Beren had given her, and it was destined to be their wedding ring, if the day were ever to come. Lúthien was not allowed to leave her room that day.
Huan rushed up behind Celegorm and followed at his master's heels and barked.
“So, you have the rashness to speak to me after biting me?”
Huan growled.
“Perhaps you are right. Maybe I did deserve it, but as for your question: I would never throw Lúthien in a dungeon.”
Huan barked.
“Beren is dead,” Celegorm said flatly.
Huan shook his head.
“You think he is alive? After all this time! That Man had set out to steal one of our Silmarils. Our heirlooms! He was not a hero. He was nothing more than a common thief.”
Huan snarled again.
“You will not allow me to keep her here? Ha! I have saved Lúthien from the power of Morgoth and more. I know she would fall into darkness at the sight of Beren's dead body. Remember, you were given to me to serve me. What would Oromë do if he knew you had become unfaithful to the one he gave you to? You must know that it was I that saved you from death years ago. I do not understand why you would suddenly turn on me now. You should be congratulating me because I am taking myself a wife.”
Huan glared at his master and snarled.
“A loveless wife? You may be right, but I suppose that I should thank you.”
He cocked his head.
Celegorm sweetened his voice. “Did you forget? It was you that brought Lúthien to me. Thank you.”
Huan could not answer this. He was struck with a terrible blow by these words. He knew now that it was he that had found Lúthien, and when he had heard that she wished for aid, he had taken her before Celegorm and he had betrayed her. Now Huan was torn with guilt. But this angered him all the more, and Celegorm, seeing that he had done this, laughed! Huan growled again and barred his teeth. His hair stood up on end, and he trembled with anger. Not even this daunted Celegorm, and he laughed all the more.
At last, Huan gained control over himself, and he left his master. Instead, he laid himself down at Lúthien's door. He heard soft sounds coming from inside the room and pressed his ear against it. Lúthien was weeping.
******
Huan lay by Lúthien’s door at night, despite his misgivings. He was filled with great remorse at her captivity. At first, Lúthien trusted him no more than she had trusted her previous guards or handmaids. She knew that, as Celegorm's most faithful servant, Huan was no more than the eyes and ears of the prince and would pass on whatever information he could to his master, and Lúthien spent much of her time trying to find a way out of Nargothrond. But Huan saw that she was mistrusting and could not blame her. He was determined to earn her trust.
Huan went into his master’s chambers and retrieved the Ring of Barahir, and Celegorm did not know of this. Then he went to Lúthien's door and began scratching at it to be allowed in. Lúthien disregarded him for a long while. Huan scratched away and began to whimper.
“Go away!” Lúthien shouted at last, near frantic. “You have been scratching at my door for near an hour now! Leave me alone and go back to your Master!”
Huan let out a low, mournful howl in answer and scratched at the door again.
Lúthien surrendered and opened her door, looking greatly overwhelmed.
“The door is open, my lord Huan,” she said sarcastically. “Come on in! You are most welcome!”
Huan whimpered and then dropped something from his mouth at her feet. Lúthien was puzzled, and Huan entered the room and curled up by the fire. Lúthien ignored him and picked up the thing from the ground and saw that it was the Ring of Barahir. Then she gasped and stared at Huan with found wonder. She sat down by the Wolf-Hound and stroked him.
“Thank you,” she whispered, setting the ring about her neck again. “You are faithful to your Master, but I see you also have a kind heart.”
Huan soaked up the warmth of her touch and let out a growl of content.
This deed broke the ice in Lúthien’s heart towards the hound, and her loneliness became unbearable. She began to speak to Huan as though he were humanoid and not just a dog. He could not talk back. Despite this, friendship blossomed between them so much so that Lúthien invited Huan into her quarters often so that he might lie by the fire and share a few stripes of her morning bacon and much of her evening chicken. She spoke to him of Doriath, her mother and her overbearing father, of Daeron and her other kin. Mostly, she spoke of Beren and her fears that he was dead. She told him many tales about Beren in her loneliness, for her thoughts were always of Beren, and Huan began to pity her. He also began to admire the Man she spoke of. He had heard his name before then and had even had a glance of him in Nargothrond, but now he knew so much more of him and respected him.
“He was, no. I must not say was. He is a great man and a great warrior. He has slain a great number of Orcs, and many other foul servants of Morgoth. He survived the Pass of Nan Dungortheb and stood upon the very mountains of Gorgoroth. He eluded many traps, a feat his kin could not do, unfortunately. That is why he is the last of his House, an exiled lord, but a prince nonetheless. His home is the wilderness, his friends the good beasts of the forests. He is the best of hunters, but he does not hunt any creature that does not love Morgoth. He is an Elf-friend, a vassal of King Finrod, a hero of battle, and loyal and true to his words. He is fearless, but not heartless. He is an avenger of the night. He is prideful. He is often reckless, and secretly desires his own destruction. He is torn by imagined guilt and tormented with remorse. He questions the divine, loves them and hates them, all at once. He seeks beauty but believes he does not deserve it. He is a clumsy dancer; sometimes slow of speech as well. But his eyes are bright, his laugh is lustrous, and his touch warm and gentle. He is mortal, and one day he must die… But I love him. It is not his time to die. He is no ordinary mortal. Perhaps I can find a way to keep him alive…”
Huan whimpered. No mortal could cheat death, and even Lúthien knew that.
“It has been so long…” Lúthien began to rock herself. “What have they done to him? He must be suffering. I must go to him, but how? Even recovering his cold body would be better than nothing, better than not knowing. He cannot die! What if he found a way to escape on his own? Yes! Perhaps he is free!”
She said many such things. One moment she lamented that Beren must be dead, the next she was certain that he was alive. She hardly touched her food anymore, even ignoring her usually large quantity of wines. She spoke only to Huan, her silent witness and guardian.
“Oh, Huan,” she said, her voice breaking. “What evil does your lord possess to ignore my tears and my distress? Hounds cherished and loved Barahir. When Beren was friendless in the North, when he was an outlaw, he had friends with fur and feathered wings, and among the spirits that in stone in mountains old and wastes still dwell. But now no Elf nor Man, none save the child of Melian remembers him who fought Morgoth and never was brought to thralldom.”
He watched her bundle up the kindling and provide a single spark for the fire. She stroked the fire with the tongs and watched the fire blaze with a gaze lost in thought. Huan desperately wanted to speak to her, for he saw her obvious loneliness, but he threw off the heavy blanket easily and nuzzled Lúthien with his snout. She gave a thin smile, though tears were in her eyes. She hugged him tightly, her tears dampening his fur coat, but he did not mind. Usually he only allowed Celegorm to touch him, but he found he liked Lúthien’s touch. He liked her arms about his neck, her soft hair in his face, and her scent, unlike any perfume, permeated his nostrils. It was sweet and pleasant. He licked at her tears, trying to comfort her. She scratched him behind the ears.
“I wish there were some way that we could communicate better,” she said with a sigh.
Huan could say nothing, of course, and soon he fell asleep to the sound of Lúthien's voice, though he was not asleep, for Huan did not sleep by night or day. For he was not truly a dog, but a pure soul in a beast's body. He cleared his head so that all was quiet, and there was a peace and quiet in the room. And he let his mind wander from the room, and he dreamed, though he was awake.
He found himself far away from Nargothrond in fact, and he looked about him and saw that he was in a forest such as he had only imagined. He was running upon the grass and letting out great howls like a mighty horn, and he had a strange light in his eyes so that Huan was amazed at himself. He knew suddenly that this was no dream. He was being warned, and Huan focused all his inner-self upon this vision.
Huan saw that he was not alone, but was running between four horses. Behind him were two Elves, fair and fell to look upon, and they were clothed in hunters' fashion with green cloaks. They held their long bows in their hands with arrows already drawn to the string. They were Elvin-lords. On Huan's left rode an Elf that was in no doubt a mighty Elvin-king. He had a youthful appearance, but his hair was silver, and he was clothed in gray and silver, and was taller than any Child of Ilúvatar. Huan recognized him as the Gray-mantle, mightiest king of all Beleriand.
But Huan's eyes were drawn to the one on his right: A figure who was clothed in mail of dwarf-make, and he bore a slung bow over his shoulder that was not fashioned by Dwarves or Elves. At his belt was a sword in its scabbard, and that scabbard was wrought with magic symbols. It was as though he was going into war, and he wore also a fur-lined cloak, and a hood was kept over his face. But Huan could see his eyes, which were bright and keen.
At first, Huan thought that this was another Elf, but he threw back his hood, and Huan saw that he was not as white as the Elves that he rode with, nor did he have the characteristic ears of the Elves. He was no Elf, but a Man, and he held a more noble power in him even than the Gray-mantle and was fairer to look upon than the Elvin-lords. To Huan, he was no more than a boy, yet he rode his steed with skill, and by the look in his eyes, Huan could tell the tale of many, many years of horror and grief that made him seem far older than his age.
And Huan heard Lúthien, as she described Beren, “He is tall for most mortal men, and he is as beautiful as any Elf. He has dark hair, hair as dark as the night, but his eyes are bright and piercing with light that is as sharp and captivating as the stars. They are gray, and they can be frightening or alluring. He is a boy with the tale of no more or less than twenty and four, but when he speaks, he seems to be centuries old. He speaks with wisdom, and he is altogether a mystery. Men and Elves would flock to his banner if he was to ride into battle merely for their love of him, and I speak with the voice of experience: With a first glance, all love him.”
*******
Celegorm came to Lúthien’s door the next evening and knocked. It opened, but it was only a servant.
“Where is the Princess?” Celegorm demanded.
“I ordered her from her room. She refuses to eat, my lord. I am concerned about the Princess, and I thought if she was allowed out of her chamber, she might recover somewhat.”
Celegorm swept back his cloak and frowned. “Did you not know that there is a feast being held in her honor tonight and I was going to allow her from her bower this evening?”
“Of course, but she refuses to be made into a spectacle. May I be permitted to say something, my lord?”
“No, I have not the time for your opinions! You should not even be speaking to Lúthien, let alone going over my head and letting her run about the Caves!” Celegorm snapped. “Get out of my sight!”
When he returned about an hour later, there came creeping silently behind him, unnoticed and for the moment forgotten, Huan the Wolf-Hound. They came into Lúthien’s chambers, and Huan lay by the door.
Celegorm found her sitting at the table in her constricted chamber. She had grown tired of having no place to set her plates other than her bed. Celegorm had provided her with a small oak table polished red and given her several cushioned chairs. Celegorm was with her as often as he could manage, though she tried to avoid him at all costs. He showered her with gifts, treated her to candlelit dinners, all in some misguided attempt to seduce her. She refused to play along. She was dressed in rich array; clothed in white with a gold mantle. Celegorm was hopelessly under the spell of her beauty, so he found himself smiling and forgot his wrath. There was a full plate before her of the best fare, but she had not touched any of it. Celegorm sat down in the chair across from her. She suddenly began laughing softly to herself.
“I do not think a grown lady and one of such dignity would need supervising to be sure that she eats, but you must eat. Lúthien, you should be eating at the feast with the lords of the Caves.”
“You and your brother, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort.”
“You are my guest!”
“I am your prisoner is what you mean!”
Celegorm shook his head, “You are carrying on badly. How much wine have you had?”
She raised her glass to her lips and drained it. Then she tossed it at the fireplace. The glass shattered.
“You have gone and exhausted the bottle and made yourself tipsy, eh?” Celegorm said with disapprobation.
“Ah, yes,” she chuckled and spoke rather fast, considering how much she had drank. “I have never been drunk before, you know. It is wonderful to be intoxicated!”
“How much wine have you had and which idiot gave you that?”
“One of your servants,” she answered and laughed.
“You should stop drinking and eat something, Lúthien. You have not touched a morsel of food for days!”
She stared coldly at him, and then she splayed her hand against her food.
“There! I touched it!” she said defiantly.
Celegorm’s face remained expressionless. “Why must you behave like this?”
“You kidnapped me, you treacherous bastard! I am your prisoner! How should I act? Should I be warm to my captors?”
“And what would you have me do? Have I locked you in the dungeons? Are there chains about your hands and shackles upon your feet? Have I locked you up in a tree house as your father did? What do you hope to gain by pursuing this mortal that you are so madly in love with?”
“I hope to find him, to save him. The night that we met, all thoughts were driven from me. They were replaced with an image of a house far from the Caves or from the cities of Men. A house set in the tranquil woods greener than any I have ever seen. There were rivers all about it with a window facing the West. There was only he and I. I must find him!”
“How do you hope to accomplish this if you starve first?”
“I have no devotion to you or your commands!”
“I do not ask for any sort of devotion, only your obedience,” Celegorm answered.
“And that is all you shall have, if I choose to give you even that!”
“You know, I could force the food down your throat. I could force you to do many things. But I am not going to.”
“Should I be grateful?”
“You do not need to love me, but I shall not be ignored.”
Lúthien paused, and then she became very serious. “They say that the more drunk you become, the more your senses are clouded, but I have discovered that if you drink just enough, it does exactly the opposite! It makes everything terribly clear! And what I have also discovered is that you would have me and come hell or high waters, you shall have me! You will never let me go willingly, will you? Even if it means war between the Noldor and the Sindar. I know that my father did not lie in his messages. He will fight for me unless I convince him that I am here willingly.”
“What are you saying?”
“I am saying that I have no choice,” Lúthien looked Celegorm in the eye. “I will wed you to prevent bloodshed. I will even provide you a legitimate heir if you require it. I will write to my father and tell him to disband his army. I will lie for the first time in my life. You managed it well. I will learn easily enough.”
Celegorm was astonished, “What of Beren?”
“Beren’s unhappy ghost must forgive me, but I cannot allow civil war fought in my name.”
The prince was pleased by her words, though he was amazed at her resolution. Perhaps she was trying to manipulate him. He rose and placed his hands upon her shoulders.
“How soon can you write to your father?” he asked.
“I can begin tonight, I suppose.”
He sought to test her resolve. He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her. It was a fervent kiss, and Lúthien did not resist as he had expected. She did not quite comply with the kiss either. It seemed as though a veil passed over her eyes. They betrayed no emotion and she felt numb.
When he pulled away, she said heatedly, “Let me make one thing clear to you, prince. I have agreed to surrender myself to you, but do not ever mistake my submission for love!”

*******
Huan left his post, but he found an idle guard to take his place. Though Huan was the hound of Valinor, and did not physically need rest very often, he was allowed it if he pleased. He then sought out his master’s chambers. He had seen his master hide something there, and he had always been allowed in his master's chambers. As a puppy, Huan had slept at the foot of the young Elvin-child's bed. Now, however, Huan doubted if he would ever be welcome to walk about in his presence again.
Celegorm was not there, but Curufin and his son were. The hound remained at the door, listening to the younger brother reprimanding his son, Celebrimbor.
“I cannot believe that my own son would be such a fool! How could you do such a thing?”
“Father, you and my uncle believe that you have the trust of the people, but I have heard their talk. They say that you two are determined to start a war and that you are holding the Princess hostage rather than as a guest. From what I have seen, I must agree with them.”
“What of our Oath?”
“I did not swear my soul to my grandfather’s cause!” the youth argued. “I was but a babe when Fëanor was consumed by his own fiery spirit! Besides, I will have nothing to do with him or his legacy!”
“He was your grandsire!”
“May he rest in peace and leave the living in peace!”
“You are an ungrateful fool to say that! If you ever interfere in my affairs again, I will be forced to disown you!”
Celebrimbor was deathly silent for a moment. Then he rose and stormed from the room. Curufin sighed and went after him. Only when they were gone and Huan traced no suspicious scents did he enter. He searched the room, nose quivering in the air, searching for a familiar, sweet scent as he wondered at the altercation he had just heard.
So Celegorm’s own nephew was the one that had tried to set Lúthien free? It was an encouraging thought. He was not alone. Perhaps Huan was doing the right thing for a change. All these years he had obeyed only his master without question or regard for himself or others. The Valar had indeed given him to Celegorm just as he had said. He followed him into Exile, even though he knew it meant angering the Valar.
Huan recalled that as soon as Celegorm received him, he began learning his own speech. The little boy had always wished to be able to speak to his animals, and he loved the privilege. He had been a playful boy, and never before now had he raised his voice in anger to Huan. As a pup, he followed Celegorm around wherever he went, and the royal prince was never seen anywhere without Huan. By the time both hound and Elf had grown up, Celegorm had taught Huan what obedience was and began bringing him out on hunts with the other hounds. That was the day he met his first Warg, one of Morgoth’s that had wandered into Valinor.
He had been out hunting for the usual game: Wild boar, deer, pheasants, and other birds when he caught up a strange scent. It was not at all like his usual prey. It was not even a fox or badger. It was something different. So, curious, he went out searching for it, straying away from the hunt and ordering for the other hounds to keep up with the horn blowers and his prince. He followed the scent until he reached a burrow. Inside were four, tiny creatures. They were excited to meet him, and they were as playful as any pup, but they were not dogs, Huan knew. However, ignoring their strange scent, he played with them. The mother returned. She saw Huan and snarled. She rounded up her pups. Then she called her mate, who was not a mere wolf but a Warg. They turned on Huan, leaving him limp and bloody.
Celegorm had found him. Huan swore that the young prince went pale, and he rushed him to the house of healing himself. In that way, he saved Huan's life. While he stayed in the House of Healing, Celegorm would visit him and speak soothing words. Then he set out with his other hounds and pursued the wolf. The next time Celegorm came to see Huan, he told him that the Warg, his mate, and her pups were now dead. Huan was sorry for the pups. They had seemed quite harmless, but Celegorm explained that they were Warg pups and surely bore the taint of Morgoth. Then Celegorm explained to Huan what Wargs were. They were once no more than the cousins of dogs, wolves, only wilder. Orcs were often their masters, and many wolves were brought to Morgoth in later days, and he bred them with monsters and demons, transforming them into terrible werewolves, stronger than Men or Elves and most horrifying to behold.
They had been twisted into servants of Morgoth since the darkness had first fallen upon Arda.
Wargs came in several forms, the four legged and the two legged. Those that walked on two legs were werewolves and were not at all Men that grew hair at night when the moon was full, according to the legends that survived from those ancient times into the tales that are told in the Sixth Age. They began as wolves that were fed the blood of their master to make them loyal as well the blood of Elves and Men. Their master was often a necromancer or sorcerer that would summon an evil spirit to take over the body of the wolf and merge with it to create a werewolf. The full moon had nothing to do with their transformations. They made one great transformation and could devour their victims whole because they were so large. Only a very skilled hunter or Maia with equal powers could kill these werewolves or put the spirit within them at rest. Hounds, such as Huan, were also an option to be rid of these beasts. Outside of Valinor, they were frequently the only option.
And so Celegorm began training him to hunt Wargs. It started with his fellow hounds. Once he had learned to bring down three hounds at once, Huan and Celegorm joined hunting parties again, but this time, it was not a hunt meant to bring home a deer or bird. It was strictly for his training, and as soon as Huan could take down many wolves at once, he was brought before his first werewolf.
Werewolves were horrifying creatures. Their fangs were long, and their eyes were not their own. They had arms and legs like a human, but they were much too large and hairy for such a generous classification. They could speak, and this werewolf mocked Huan. But Huan completed his training and learned to fight and destroy four werewolves at once. Celegorm was very proud of Huan and took to bragging. Huan never had a problem with Wargs again, and Valinor was free of such a pestilence. Every wolf that belonged to Morgoth shivered at his name, and all werewolves howled with rage. And even after Huan and Celegorm went into exile, he was still renowned and glorified for such skills. Doriath had the Girdle of Melian, Gondolin its unassailable walls, and Nargothrond had Huan the Hound of Valinor.
Now Huan, snapping out of his memories, began having second thoughts. Should he really sacrifice his love for his master now? Could Celegorm ever forgive him? What if Lúthien did become a captive of Sauron?
He whimpered, remembering the terrible price he had paid to remain with Celegorm. Though Huan had slain no one at the Havens, leaving the shores of Valinor was self-imposed exile and showed that he tolerated his master’s sins. He could have returned to Oromë, and Celegorm would never have thought less of him. But Huan could never dream of life without his master then and it was still hard to imagine now. He made his choice to remain faithful and true to Celegorm and damned himself. Mandos appeared to the Noldor, speaking of Doom and Repentance, of Sin and Punishment. The Noldor were cursed for leaving Valinor and for the slaughter of the Teleri and the theft and destruction of their ships. Mandos was terrible to behold in his wrath. Everyone quaked with fear at the very sound of his voice, the Judge of the Netherworld and all souls. Each person would pay the price. For favoring his earthly master, Huan would wander the earth, slaying Morgoth’s wolves until the day he encountered the mightiest of all wolves, and that would be the death of him.
In those early days, Huan had rarely given a thought to Mandos’ prophesy. He was little more than a pup, and he felt it was his duty never to abandon his master. He loved Celegorm, and he held Fëanor in high esteem. He was proud that they could not be called cowards. But as the years passed, doubt overshadowed his dreams. He regretted the Kinslaying, and he fought many wolves in his long life span. Every time he faced a wolf, he could not help but wonder if this would be his last battle and did he deserve such a death?
Huan caught the scent and nuzzled open a chest in Celegorm’s far corner. He rummaged through the ordinary clothing until he came upon a shadowy cloak. He lifted it gently into his mouth. He would not allow another Kinslaying to take place. He would not face his death unprepared and unrepentant. He would not allow Lúthien to suffer any more. He had brought her to Celegorm and now he would deliver her from his imprisonment. Celegorm had been deceitful. He had betrayed Lúthien; as though she had not already gone through enough trials with her father and Daeron the minstrel at home in Menegroth. He had betrayed the Valar long ago, following in the footsteps of his father blindly. Therefore, Huan had every right to do as his heart told him. No command of Celegorm's could overrule that.
At last, Huan took Lúthien's spellbound cloak and crept through the tunnels, embracing the shadows and shunning every pair of eyes. No one must see him. The advantage was that no one was looking for him, so he was able to reach Lúthien’s quarters unseen. He hid the cloak, and then confronted the present guard. When he barked, the Elf knew he could retire and allow the Wolf-Hound to keep the Princess safe. Then Huan retrieved the cloak and scratched at Lúthien’s door. She allowed him inside, greeting him absent-mindedly. She was writing a letter, to Huan’s horror, to her father. She only needed her seal and signature to finish. Huan dropped the cloak, snatched the parchment, and began ripping it to shreds.
“Huan, what on earth are you doing!”
Huan thought long and hard. Finally, he opened his mouth and spoke to her, knowing he only had two more opportunities to speak again now, but he thought his first was noble enough.
“Have you given up so quickly, Lúthien? Take your cloak, sweet maiden, and I shall lead you forth from your prison.”
Lúthien was incredulous. For a moment she was speechless. His voice was deep and gruff. He could only raise it a little above a whisper, and so she wondered if she had merely mistaken a growl for words.
At last, she said, “You are talking! But how? Does Celegorm know of your plans or that you can speak?”
“The Valar allowed me to do so. Celegorm knows nothing, but I do not have very much longer to speak with words. Therefore, we must be swift. Please, do not tarry. I know of a secret passageway: A tunnel.”
She gaped at him, and he saw the doubt in her eyes.
“Lúthien, you can trust me. I am not Celegorm. I assure you: This passageway is secret. I am not sure if even my master knows of it. But first, I must know for certain that I have your absolute trust.”
She clutched the Ring of Barahir that was about her throat once again and smiled. “I trust you, Huan.”
A rush of love and gratitude came at those words and Huan struggled to maintain the levity in his voice that now flowed with emotion. It was truly amazing how much emotion could be put forth into the voice.
“Good. That is very good. Now here is your cloak. Go on. Take it! As we walk, I shall give you council. Remember to be as quiet as possible. The Caves echo in the deep.”
“No need to worry about that,” Lúthien said. She was so light of step she could walk noiselessly even without effort. “What will become of you when Celegorm and Curufin discover that I am gone in the morning?”
“I will think of something.”
Lúthien fastened her cloak about her again while Huan paced nervously, speaking as fast as he could.
“Little counsel can I give you,” he said, “save that you should go with all the speed you may back to the halls of your father. Celegorm cannot pursue you into Doriath unless they allowed him through the Girdle.”
“That I will never do while Beren yet lives, forgotten by all those of Middle-Earth.”
“I thought that you would give such an answer,” Huan sighed. “But if you are willing to go onto this mad quest, for impossible it seems-“
”Seems,” Lúthien put the emphasis on the word that had been lacking. “Nothing is impossible. The Valar sent me a vision that inspired my escape from Doriath, and they are helping me escape once again through you. Why would they not deliver me to Beren as well?”
“Impossible though it may seem, I will not stop you.”
“Are there any guards around?”
Huan halted and answered, “There will be guards everywhere, but I have the skill and the knowledge needed to get around them. I know all the secrets of Nargothrond. I will lead you to the passage and beyond. I know the Wilderness well, and it is teeming with Orcs, wolves, and other things. Therefore, I will be your guide and guard as my master promised he would be. I must redeem him even if he curses my name and labels me a traitor afterwards. I can only hope that he will come to his senses.”
“You do not have to come with me,” Lúthien told him. “My freedom is enough.”
“But what of Beren and Finrod?” Huan shook his head. “And what of you? I cannot allow you to leave alone and unaided. You have Sauron and his minions to contend with. There is another, more mundane reason. How are you to get to Sauron’s Isle? You do not have a horse, and we have to hurry! Celegorm will not pursue you on foot!”
“I could steal a horse. Thalion will suit me well if I could only find where he is being stalled.”
“It will be far away from the other horses, I assure you. It is not worth the risk and precious time would be lost. I will be your steed, Lúthien. It may seem very outlandish, and I do not often allow people pony-rides, but if we are to reach Beren and Finrod in time, you must take me as your steed. I am much swifter than any horse, and I will not cower from other beasts. You are light, and my pride can easily suffer this once. It is no dishonor to carry a Princess!”
“Thank you, Huan,” Lúthien said sincerely. “I never expected such an ally or friend…”
“Say no more,” Huan interrupted. “I have little time left. Listen carefully to all that I say because I cannot repeat myself.”
He rushed on about the dangers they might face, the paths to avoid, and those they could be forced to take. He did not pause even to take a breath. It was a lot to take in all at once.
Finally, Huan said, “I have one last thing to say. You must not give up hope, Lúthien. I have watched you suffer, and I desperately desired to tell you that it is wrong. My master betrayed us both. But never give up hope. You will find me loyal and trustworthy, and I will remain at your side for as long as I am needed, however long that may be. I pray that Beren is still alive, and I would look upon Finrod just once more. Follow me, Lúthien!”
With that, Huan led her from her prison chamber. He moved quickly and surprisingly quiet for one of his size. They crept through the narrow passages that were so dim that Lúthien was forced to grab hold of Huan’s tail to find her way. Then the small tunnel became very steep. Lúthien removed her boots and splayed her hands and toes upon the rough, uneven walls to keep from sliding. Huan struggled to climb up, whimpering each time he lost his footing and slid a few inches, his toe nails digging into stone. They must have climbed for hours as the tunnel became narrower and steeper. The air was thin and damp, and it was pitch black.
“Now more than ever, I feel like a timid mouse, squeezing through holes like this,” Lúthien said bitterly. “No wonder this passage is secret. It is almost impassable! What would become of us if there was a cave-in or a fire?”
Huan whimpered in reply.
At long last, a ray of light became visible. Lúthien could smell water and hear frogs and insects. There was a pool of murky water before them and a solid stone wall. Huan did not hesitate. He dove under the water and vanished. Lúthien hesitated until Huan’s head and tail reappeared. He barked and wagged his tail and she clutched it in her fingers. He dove and she followed, taking a deep breath and plunging into the bone-cold depths. She tried to open her eyes underneath the water but it was much too dark. She could see nothing. She held Huan’s tail and reached out the other blindly to get a sense of where they were going. Then she realized that the wall was not solid below. She passed under it and rushed to fill her lungs with air. She felt the water break and she breathed deep as the slap of twilight’s breeze brushed over her face.
Huan barked, Hurry, hurry! He was silent and could speak no more for now. But Lúthien was as eager to leave as he was, and she understood Huan well enough. She waded out of the water of the pool. They were both dripping wet. Huan stood still and made no sign as she sat upon his back and leaned to wrap her hands about his neck, feeling very foolish and very uncomfortable. Never had she ridden upon any such creature.
“The problem is,” she muttered and let out a light-hearted laugh, “that I am much more accustomed to a horse!”
Without warning, Huan burst into long, running strides. Lúthien was startled and clutched her new and unusual steed in a death grip. Huan growled in minor annoyance and she immediately loosened her grip sheepishly. Then she relaxed, and the great speed became a thrill. She began to smile, and instead of burying her face in Huan’s fur, she held her head high. She cast aside her hood and let out a happy cry, raising her hands in the air for a moment. What a sight they must be, the giant Wolf-Hound and the slender, cloaked maiden!
The animals in the wood looked on and listened in wonder. A single Noldoli was returning to the Caves with his game and caught a glimpse of them. A flash of silver and black, a pair of golden eyes, and another like polished silver. He dropped his evening catch and ran hell-bent for home, not quite certain what he had seen. Lúthien cackled and Huan let out a howl of delight and once again the tale of Lúthien’s escape would be remembered in children’s tales long after the days of yore.