Oath awakened by Aprilertuile

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Oath awakened

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Life in Sirion was a story of mingling of people and rebuilding after deep losses. There wasn't a single person in the city that hadn't faced loss one way or another.

That's what made living there both so easy and yet so uncomfortable for Elwing.

Easy because everyone knew to pull their weight and knew their crafts and was enthusiastic at the idea of rebuilding.

But uncomfortable because everyone had in their eyes the same fear that she had.

So Elwing barely mingled. She did her duty to her people, led them as well as she could, and raised her children, but she was only ever truly happy, truly feeling safe, when Eärendil was there with them.

But Eärendil hasn't been here in months. And she was afraid of losing everything again. When she saw her children sleep for their nap or at night, she often had flash of visions, seeing them slain, or lost in a forest, like her brothers had been.

It was that fear that kept her up most nights.

Every year at the same dates, there were festivals to celebrate... Well, their survival, or the coming of spring, or the Harvest...

And for those celebrations and only those, she wore the jewel openly. This year, for the first time, she had showed her sons the Silmaril, their family's most prized possession, the very thing that had made building in Sirion possible.

She warned them however to never touch it. The stone needed to be protected at all time. It was precious.

Without the Silmaril, life there would be harder. Perhaps even impossible. She knew it. All of Sirion knew it. They could all feel it! The light of the Silmaril was bringing them hope and luck!

And yet, her nightmares never disappeared. And blessed with the Silmaril or not, she feared what it meant for her family.

They had so few allies she could trust...

They clearly couldn't count on the dwarves. They were greedy creatures that would kill them all to get the jewel after all. She had been a child but she remembered the stories her father told them. The dwarves had killed her great-grandfather because of greed. No, there was no hope with them.

And the rest of them living in Sirion were too few. Elves and men together were not much more than tired survivors of various tragedies.

But no, she needed to not think like that. After all, they had the Silmaril, and it was hallowed. It'd protect them as much as it could. It already brought them clean water and full harvests.

Besides, everyone knew the feanorians were cursed and couldn't have it after all their crimes.

 

 

Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean,

 

Life in Amon Ereb was hard but reduced to the most basics of living: Keep the fortress safe, ride after all kind of creatures that Morgoth sent their way. Check the state of their supply. Hope for the best. Rinse and repeat ad nauseam every day that passed.

 

Brood of Morgoth or bright Vala,

Elda or Maia or Aftercomer,

 

They had little allies left, and Morgoth showed no sign of weakening. His forces harassed them often enough.

But their allies were trusted friends. The dwarves of Belegost never once failed to answer them in friendship since their meeting after all…

 

Man yet unborn upon Middle-Earth

 

But it wasn't the forces of Morgoth or the state of his alliances that kept Maedhros up at night. It wasn't Morgoth that he saw whenever he closed his eyes.

No. Elwing had the Silmaril. Their spies had confirmed it already. It was only a matter of time before Morgoth went after it.

If he did, their chances to be able to get it back went up in smoke, and their oath would be forever pending resolution. That was unless the power they had called upon in that oath decided enough time had passed and if they didn't have the Silmaril then it was over.

The girl had the Silmaril. But she was so young. All those he loved depended on it. But surely Elwing was too young...

 

Neither laws nor love, nor league of swords,

Dread nor danger nor doom itself,

 

Maglor spent most of his time riding with his people after the orcs in defense of the fortress and the territory, and obsessing over music. He had no words to aptly remember the tragedy of Doriath. No words to measure the weight of that sin even put in the balance with the very existence of the fear of his father and siblings.

 

Shall defend him from Fëanáro and Fëanáro’s kin,

Whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh,

finding keepeth or afar casteth a silmaril.

 

No words to aptly describe how cursed they were. How much blood clang to them now. How lost they were.

Even shall they complete their oath, they'd never find peace after everything they did. But would never finding peace be enough if it meant their family wouldn't be just... unraveling from existence in the in everlasting darkness?

And instead of abandoning the Silmaril in the midst of their foul deed, instead of seeing the cost the Silmaril would demand... either at their hands of the hands of Morgoth... The ones who fled Doriath took it with them.

Couldn't they see that the Silmaril couldn't stop the tragedy once and would never be able to stop it from happening again? Hallowed the jewel may be, but cursed also! The price of its possession came in blood!

But Elwing... Perhaps... She had children. Surely she had hopes for the future above the greed of keeping a Silmaril? Perhaps she'd answer them. There's not much they could offer in the grand scheme of things, but protection perhaps would do the trick...

 

This swear we all:

Death we will deal him ere Day's ending,

Woe unto world's end!

 

Amrod and Amras may have been the youngest of the 7 brothers, but they weren't any more stupid for all they had been the youngest. Neither were they blind.

Most days they were out hunting. Hunting for food, foraging for food, but also for defense against the creatures that entered their lands.

And yet they still saw.

 

Our word hear thou, Eru Allfather!

 

They saw Maedhros fall into alcohol and moody introspections, saw him lose sleep unless Maglor was there to actually push him to sleep. They saw Maglor barely acknowledging the outside world if it wasn't question of his brothers, his music and Morgoth.

 

To the everlasting Darkness doom us,

If our deed faileth.

 

And they knew that something would have to give. They refused to lose anymore brothers. Or to lose them to their respective madness when they were still alive and not all was lost. There were ways that could be done.

The people of Sirion so proud of their princess were all fools. The Silmaril never saved anyone's life. All it did was bring death. And if they wanted it that badly, they'd bring it to them and bring that damn stone BACK.

 

On the holy mountain hear in witness,

 

And so they started to plan. Could they enter the city unseen and steal the stone? Could they summon their people and go without Maedhros thinking that anything was amiss?

 

And our vow remember,

 

Neither Maedhros nor Maglor were blind however. They heard the whispers and saw the plans of their brothers. And so that morning Maglor left his meeting with his riders to go into another, with his brothers this time, and a plan, a real plan was made.

There would be none of their dangerous sneaking around. No. None of the brothers would take the risk of being caught alone by the creatures of Morgoth. The Dark Vala would like that too much for them to allow it.

The next morning a messenger left Amon Ereb for Sirion, bearing a message written by Maglor and signed by Maedhros.

A message of friendship, and of strong warning.

 

Manwë and Varda!

 

The Oath had been awakened, fate was coming to them.