Come Together, Broken Things, and Grow by UnicornsInSpace  

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Chapter 5

Finally posting the next chapter because my TolkSoc Smial just read this part of the Silm. 

This is the chapter where Túrin and Beleg die together. So, warning for that. After that, heavily pregnant Finduilas buries them and leaves for Doriath.

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495 of the First Age – Ephel Brandir

            The showed the dragon helm to the Haladin guards that they met as they approached Ephel Brandir, and they were allowed entry. The went to see Brandir, the lord of the Haladin, and he gave them a generous living with a nice (for the Haladin) house to live in. They had been staying there a few days, when Finduilas saw Túrin come in carrying a tall, injured woman.

            “Who is this?” Finduilas asked him.

            “I found her under some brambles and she was badly injured. Thought I could bring her home and we could help her. She reminds me of my sister.” He told her, going into another room the lay her down. Finduilas followed him.

            “My love, please ask me next time before bringing a strange woman into the house from the woods.”

            “I can do that,”

            “Not every strange woman from the woods will be as good as Melian.”

            Túrin laughed boisterously at the joke.

            “Point taken, meldanya,” He said, kissing her quickly on the lips.

            “In the meantime, I will do some elvish healing on her.”

            “Fine with me.”

            “What is her name?”

            “I forgot to ask.”

            “My love,” Finduilas looked at him in consternation.

            “I was flustered.”

            She hardened her gaze for a moment and then sighed.

            “Very well, I will ask what her name is when she wakes.” Finduilas said, “But at least get a name next time.”

            “Very well.”

            Túrin left the room to do other things. Finduilas sat at the woman’s bedside, singing a song of healing while holding her hands above the woman’s wounds. There was a broken arm, an injured leg, scratches everywhere. She really was quite beautiful, even while this badly wounded. The woman gasped as she awoke, and tried to sit up, but Finduilas had to keep her lying down.

            “Relax, you are safe here in my house.” Finduilas told her.

            She laid back down.

            “Thank you very much…. You are an elf.” The woman responded.

            “Yes.”

            “Am I back in Doriath, then?”

            “No, you are in Ephel Brandir.”

            “But I thought only humans lived there.”

            “Everyone other than me is a human. I thought only elves lived in Doriath.”

            “My mother and I are special guests of King Thingol.”

            “What is your name?”

            “Niënor. Daughter of Húrin Thalion and Morwen Eledhwen.”

            “My love? Come here!” Finduilas at once yelled to Túrin.

            He came quickly and poked his head into the room.

            “What is it?” He asked, his brow worried.

            “There’s a reason she reminded you of your sister,” Finduilas said, “She is your sister.”

            “I did something lucky on accident?!”

            “It appears so.”

            “Eru, Manwë, and Varda, that is amazing!” He crossed the room quickly with his large strides and embraced Finduilas, kissing her once again. She placed her hand on his face, cupping his cheek. Niënor coughed purposefully and they broke apart.

            “Sorry. That has literally never happened to me before,” He said, letting go of Finduilas. “So, what are you doing here? I thought you died in Dor-lómin?”

            “No,” Niënor told him, “We were cut off by Morgoth’s forces. We came as soon as we could to Doriath, but you were gone. When refugees from Nargothrond told Mama you were in Nargothrond, she convinced King Thingol to let her go to find you (with help). I went in disguise. She was not leaving without me. They figured me out and left me on a hilltop, and who should find me but Glaurung himself. Well, I shot him in the face with an arrow and dove into the Tieglin, and then scrambled under some brambles to hide, where you found me. Now we can go home to Doriath together. We can be a family, with Mama. Your wife can come, too, of course. King Thingol forgives you.”

            “I will not return to Doriath.”

            “Why not? I told you King Thingol forgives you. He wants you to come back.”

            They started talking in Taliska, and Finduilas tuned them out. After a bit of this, Túrin walked out.             She got up to follow him, and heard him heading for the front door.

            “Pardon me, Lady Niënor,” Finduilas curtsied, and left.

            Right as he touched the doorknob, she walked up to him.

            “What happened?” She pressed, gently.

            “I will send for an elf from Doriath to take her home. But I will not follow. You may go, too, if you wish.”

            “No,” Finduilas said, “I stay with you. I am your wife, after all.”

            He smiled at that.

            “Thank you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

 

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            A few days later there came a knock at the door of their home, and a servant boy went to open it. Niënor was still resting from her ordeal, and so only Finduilas and Túrin were in the parlor. It was a warm day, with sunlight streaming in through the window, as Finduilas quietly embroidered and Túrin starred through the window, brooding. A young servant boy entered the room, followed by a familiar elf.

            “Beleg Cúthalion, my lord,” the boy introduced him. 

            Túrin’s eyes shot up. Beleg had black hair, free flowing, except for a few small braids, but untangled. The vest he wore was leather with Melian’s sigil pressed into it. He also wore cotton pants, blue as the water of Esgalduin, and red leather boots. There was a bow of black yew slung over his shoulder. Although his eyes did not shine with the light of the trees, they did sparkle as he looked upon Túrin.

            “Túrin,” Beleg said. He said it so softly and with such a tenderness that there could be no mistaking the romantic nature of their relationship. He began to walk towards Túrin. Túrin was at war with himself- he clearly wanted to walk forward and embrace Beleg, but he also did not want to hurt Finduilas. 

            “Mablung told me to come here,” Beleg continued, “but he did not tell me-“ Beleg stopped, seeing the pain on Túrin’s face. Looking down at Túrin’s hand, he saw a new ring there. Turning to Finduilas, he saw in her eyes that she was married, and that she wore a matching ring on her finger. His fond smile drained into a look of sheer embarrassment.

            He was about to apologize, when Finduilas simply put aside her embroidery and got up.

            “We can share him, if that suits you,” Finduilas told him. Beleg nodded, stunned.

            Walking over to Túrin, and placing a hand on his cheek, she added, “As long as you never leave me.” 

            “Never, my love,” Túrin said, kissing her.

            “Well then,” Finduilas went back to gather her embroidery and headed to the door. Her silk dress shimmered and flowed like water as she turned, “I’ll leave you to it.”

            “Thank you very much.” Beleg blurted.

            She only smiled in response.

            As soon as she had shut the door, Beleg ran to Túrin and threw his arms around his neck, standing up on his toes to kiss him. Túrin embraced Beleg tightly, and picked him up. He carried him to a chair and sat down. They kissed deeply and fervently until they were gasping for breath, and they broke apart only for air. They did not go far, only touching foreheads. Neither wanted to leave the warmth of their lover’s arms, after being parted so long. Beleg placed his head on Túrin’s shoulder, and his hand on Túrin’s heart, like he had done so many times before.

            “I am so glad to hear you survived the Fall of Nargothrond,” Beleg said into Túrin’s neck, punctuating his words with a kiss.

            “Me, too, if only so I could see you again,” Túrin ran his hands reverently through Beleg’s silky hair, “What did you do after we parted? After you saved me from Morgoth’s orcs?”

            “I went back to Doriath, returned the sword I borrowed to King Thingol, and told him that you had been saved, but did not wish to return. I know you still do not wish to return, but I do not wish to part with you again.”

            “With Finduilas’s permission, you could live with us?”

            “I would like that very much.”

            Finduilas gave her hearty consent on the same terms. As soon as Niënor was awake, Beleg sent word to Mablung and she was brought back to Doriath to be healed. Beleg lived in Brethil with Finduilas and Túrin as his husband for many months. Finduilas became pregnant, and there was much rejoicing over the occasion. It was a girl, she could feel it was a girl, and Túrin was overjoyed.

 

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            However, one fateful day, Túrin went out hunting with Beleg, and Finduilas had a horrible feeling about it. She sat and embroidered. She was heavily pregnant, and she wanted to stay away from any dangerous activities like hunting. Suddenly, the trees began to rustle, and they began to beckon her, beg her to follow them.

            “It is urgent,” they told her. “Follow us, come quickly, it is urgent.”

            She followed them quickly, a pit growing in her stomach the closer she got. When the trees opened up to the scene, her worst fears were realized. Túrin laid with a mortal wound in Beleg’s arms, next to the beheaded body of Glaurung.

            “I tried to save him,” Beleg sobbed.

            Finduilas put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

            “You did your best,” She told him.

            Getting down as far as she could, she placed a hand on Túrin’s face.

            “Namarië, my beloved.” She rubbed his cheek, and he leaned into the touch.

            “Tell our daughter I love her,” He said.

            “I will.”

            Then she felt his fëa leave his body. Beleg wailed, and his fëa followed. She returned to Ephel Brandir, and told Lord Brandir of what had occurred. They were given a Haladin funeral. The two bodies were buried together with Belthronding, their names on the same grave marker. Lord Brandir gave Finduilas the Dragon Helm.

            “For the child, in case it’s a boy,” he said.

            “Thank you, but it’s a girl,” Finduilas told him. She took it anyway, and placed it on Túrin and Beleg’s gravemarker.

            She left for Doriath not long after.