Poor Little Maia by flame_of_the_noldor  

After news of the defeat of Morgoth's infamous and feared lieutenant, Thauron, had come to ears of the elves of Nargothrond, and especially to the ears of his father and uncle, Curufin and Celegorm, Tyelperirinquar Curufinwion was sent with a small company to investigate and, ideally, reclaim Thauron’s fortress of Tol-in-Gaurhoth.

Tyelperinquar carefully rode his steed through the woods that led to the fortress, which had become dark and foreboding in the time since the fortress’ creation. The day was foggy, reflecting the elf's current mood at being sent on this journey, contemplative and distant. The sound of birds and the rustling of forest creatures was oddly absent, something that caused the elf and his company to proceed more carefully than normal. 

As the company of elves emerged from the dark forest, the cool grey towers of Tol Sirion, now Tol-in-Gaurhoth, rose above the oddly still river on top of a small rocky cliff upon which the fortress resided. The tall towers of the fortress were shrouded in fog from the river below, lending a deathly calm to the area. A massive stone bridge led across the river toward a massive stone ramp that winded across the rocky cliff toward the fortress. Rain fell across the landscape and added to the already cold air.

Tyelperinquar held up his hand to halt the company before they proceeded across the bridge. Even after Thauron's defeat, the creeping feeling of evil still lurked about the fortress, which sent a shiver down his spine. He did not like that his father and uncle had sent him on this errand alone, but they had both insisted he go as they had business to attend to in Nargothrond. More political machinations, he assumed. Tyelperinquar was never quite happy with the way his father and uncle played their political games, all subterfuge and deception, and how sometimes he would become part of their games, whether intentionally or unintentionally. This excursion to Tol-in-Gaurhoth was part of another such game. 

The pair realized that by freeing prisoners in Tol-in-Gaurhoth and reclaiming the fortress, they would be able to use this power to convince the Lord of Nargothrond to grant them their own realm in which to rule, something his father had lusted after for a long time. He wished for a staging ground in which a hunt for the silmarils could continue, an errand that Tyelperinquar had always felt would be his father's doom.
 

He grieved at their loss as well, as his grandfather, the might Fëanor, had created them with the intention of capturing the light of the Two Trees, to preserve its memory for all time, as sacred objects created in honor of the Valar, but this errand to retrieve them had led them so far from home, into a land that had at oft times felt hostile and unwelcoming to the Noldor. He dearly missed the green fields and white towers of Tíron and the Blessed Realm of his youth, of being so close to the great Valar as to learn from them or their maiar directly. 

 

Most of all, he missed the great forges of Aulë, the lord of blacksmithing and creation. He had fond memories of wandering the endless halls, watching the maiar under Aulë’s leadership create endless works of art more dazzling than the last. Rings of great beauty, necklaces whose jewels caught the stars themselves, earrings that shone with unearthly light, and brilliant weapons and armor that could withstand any weapon created by elven hands. He dreamed of the jewelry he would see there often.

Much to his father's chagrin, he would talk to the maiar in secret, hoping to learn the ways of creation like his grandfather Fëanor. He remembered how kind they were to him, and how much they desired to teach him. There was one in particular that Tyelperinquar remembered who loved to share his gifts, but strangely, he could not recall their name.

A feeling of dread overcame him as he stared at the fortress again while he waited for the remainder of his party to approach the bridge. 

As they approached and his horse anxiously whinnied at the worn bridge, as if to warn the others. 

The other horses returned the warning and whinnied in agitation and fear as the remainder of the party arrived at the bridge, their hooves anxiously padding at the ground beneath. Tyelperinquar knew that horses would be of little use inside the fortress itself, and gently pat his horse on the neck while whispering a calming song in Quenya. 

He faced the fortress once moe and summoned all courage to him to call out, “Thauron, unrightful ruler of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, Lord of Werewolves, come forth! Come forth Lord of Werewolves, and surrender else face destruction at the hands of the grandson of Fëanor!”

No sound emerged from the fortress or the surrounding area. All was calm, and the rain continued.

”Dismount, we will need to continue our investigation on foot, be ready for any foul creature that still lies within.“, he ordered as he turned himself and his horse to face the company. 

Ten elves were ordered to keep watch for any creature, magical or otherwise, that would disturb the horses and ambush the company from behind. 

Tyelperinquar dismounted his horse and felt the cool grass against his boots. The drizzling rain had not stopped and would make fighting enemies harder if they were not fully alert and prepared. Thankfully his hood protected his face from becoming too wet, although he would have preferred to have arrived here in more pleasant weather. As he drew closer to the bridge, he instinctively placed his left hand on the pommel of his sword both to remind himself it was present and as a warning to anyone that may be spying from the ruined alcoves and rain-soaked cliff above. 

He gazed into the distance and saw nothing of note except what would appear to be a dank and ruined fortress. Tyelperinquar knew that the fortress was likely anything but abandoned, given Thauron’s propensity for order. He could see that there was scaffolding placed around the outer and inner walls, presumably in order to rebuild some of the ruined towers that were destroyed when Thauron’s army invaded Tol Sirion and occupied the fortress. 

He hesitantly continued to walk forward and motioned for the company to do so as well. They carefully marched across the dank and wet stone bridge, the soft pattering of rain against stone, earth, and water their only comfort as they marched into Thauron's former stronghold. 

Not a sound of bird or beast was heard nearby, only the rain and their own footsteps. Tyelperinquar dreaded to think of what traps Thauron had laid for them, given how quiet it had been. Or perhaps he had decided to abandon the fortress entirely in preparation of the elves arriving, another thought which gave him no comfort, as it implied that perhaps a spy had alerted him to their arrival. 

They soon arrived inside the courtyard of the fortress, where ruined stone pillars and tresses reminded those who entered of the fortress' better days as a watchtower for the Noldor. Tyelperinquar felt sorrowful as he saw his people's beautiful creations marred by moss, dirt, and other accumulated orc filth. Remains of campfires and crude orcish equipment lay scattered around, seemingly left behind in a hurry or dropped suddenly. Perhaps one day this fortress would be returned to its former glory.

Tyelperinquar did not like the implications of his observation, as something far fouler may have scared away the inhabitants of the fortress or perhaps Beren and Lúthien were so thorough in their fight against Thauron that the dreaded enemy had fled in fear.

He told himself latter, even if it was a potential lie as a small comfort as his company did as they were ordered to do. His captain took a third of the company, mostly the less experienced of the elves, and began scouting the ramparts.

Tyelperinquar took a deep breath as he stood before a great oaken door that led to the lower levels of the fortress, including the dungeon. 

”Be on your guard“, he ordered,” Many foul creatures may lie in wait for us below.“.

He pulled at the bronze handle to the door, only to discover that the door opened without much struggle, which he found suspicious. He threw open the door and motioned for the company to follow. 

The smell of must and mildew filled his nose as he stepped inside. Clearly Thauron's propensity for order did not extend to cleanliness, or perhaps his servants were not disobedient. Torches held in wrought iron sconces lit the way down the dank stone stairs as they descended into a pit of darkness. Tyelperinquar quickly grabbed a torch sitting inside an iron hook from the wall to illuminate the darkness before him. Other torches were lit and grabbed as well, creating a wall of light that stood against the cold, impenetrable darkness of the dungeons below.

They descended down the stairs, the gloom of the darkness parting as they passed. The passage down was unremarkable, but the feeling of dread that continued to crawl in Tyelperinquar's mind was remarkable, seemingly finding creatures in shadows that danced along the walls as they passed and in the dark crevices that were briefly lit by the light of their torches.

Soon the stairs came to an end, and the party was left standing at a three pointed crossroads. Tyelperinquar gazed left and saw rows of cells signaling the dungeons. To his right, the same, a corridor of cells. To his front, a circular pillared courtyard with a central platform where light from above streamed down from an eye shaped hole in the ceiling. Tyelperinquar shuddered to think at the thought of the spirits and other elves whose bodies were twisted into horrible wolf-shapes under the light of a full moon in that room. 

He decided to take his company forward, in case the path ahead led to other passages. To his comfort and surprise, the room was empty and had no other doors. 
Upon further inspection of the raised platform in the middle of the room, Tyelperinquar could see that it was an altar where blood and other viscera were splattered across it and surrounding it. Bits of fabric and fur were scattered around haphazardly. He grimaced at the thought of the poor being who had to suffer such a horrible fate. 

He stared upward into the eye-shaped hole above him, which cast the symbol of Thauron onto the altar and did his best to remind himself that even light could be found in the darkest of places.

With another order to have his men do another sweep around the room, he left, turning his head back toward the dungeons. A part of him hoped and dreaded that there would be prisoners in that dungeon. Hope, that they could finally be rescued and brought back to their kin, and dread at the thought of finding them dead. 

He treaded carefully toward each cell with his hand still resting on the pommel of his sword, shining his torch into each one on the way. The majority of them were empty, save for a few rats that scattered away as soon as light entered. A couple had mummified evidence of their former inhabitants still lying in the cells, either on their cots, or frozen permanently on the floor, curled up in a fetal position. He would have to have the bodies potentially identified and given a proper burial. 

 

He carefully walked toward another cell and shined his torch inside of it. Inside there appeared to be an elf long since passed whose chains had started to rust away from their body. Their long red hair hung limply from their head as their vacant eyes stared at the ceiling, still holding out hope for rescue one day. A tear fell from Tyelperinquar's eye, saddened by the grim reality of their mission here. He whispered a quiet prayer to Námo in the hopes that their fëa had finally found rest in the Halls of Mandos. 

He sadly continued on, and shined his light in another cell where he found a small pile of bones in the corner. From where he stood, he could barely tell if they were elf or beast, and he did not wish to know. 

“Lord Tyelperinquar!”, one of the soldiers shouted from down the hall, “Come here!” 

Tyelperinquar quickly drew his sword and ran toward the guard, who unlike him, had not drawn his sword, but instead was pointing toward a figure that appeared to be a male elf with long white-blond hair in dirty white robes curled up in a fetal position in one of the cells. 

Tyelperinquar tilted his head in confusion at the elf in white before stepping closer, sword still tightly gripped in his other hand. 

He tilted his torch so that the light shone on the elf, gently illuminating the cell with firelight. The white robes, although dirty and torn, still shone oddly brightly with the torchlight. He glanced at the elf’s face and he was taken aback at how handsome and beautiful he was, otherworldly in his beauty. He must not have been here for very long if his face had not been marred yet by Thauron and his foul servants. 

 

“Who are you?”, Tyelperinquar asked quietly but firmly, still staring at the elf’s face. There was something familiar about him that he couldn’t quite place.
 

The elf tilted his head toward him in fear before shuffling towards the back of the cell. 

“No, please, don't hurt me again! Please!“, the elf pleaded fearfully. 

Tyelperinquar gently removed his helmet, revealing his long dark hair and grey-blue eyes. 

He reached out his hand toward the bars of the cell, “We are here to rescue you, are you alright?”

The elf didn't respond, and drew their knees into their chest. 

“Soldier, do we have a way to unlock these doors?”, he asked sternly as he glanced back at the crying elf. 

 

“No, we haven't found anything.”

 

Tyelperinquar groaned. There has to be a way to get this cell door open. He placed his hand on the handle to perhaps shove the door open, but to his shock, the door opened without any trouble like the one upstairs. 

He looked at the other elven soldier with shock on his face. The other shrugged and stepped back. As Tyelperinquar looked into the cell, there was something about the strange elf that elicited a sense of protectiveness in him, a desire to keep him close.

“I will stay here with them and I am ready to defend myself. See if you can find any others still alive in here!“, he ordered, perhaps more harshly than he intended. 

 

He walked back toward the bars of the cell and softly called out, “We’re not going to hurt you, we’re here to rescue you from this dreadful prison.”

“Oh, are you?”, the strange elf asked incredulously, “And are you planning on killing me once I have let my guard down?”

“No, never! Please, believe me, we were sent here by the lord of Nargothrond to investigate this place and save anyone we could find. Sadly so far, that appears to be yourself. I am Tyelperinquar Curufinwion and I give you my word that neither myself nor the elves under my command would ever harm you.”, he pleaded emphatically.

“Oh…”, the elf said sadly and looked down. 

“Can you tell me your name and where you are from?”, Tyelperinquar asked again, more softly this time as to not startle the elf.

“My name”, the elf sniffled, “is Annatar. I am a humble historian and scholar, traveling the lands to learn about its inhabitants, particularly those of the kingdom of Menegroth. I wish to share my knowledge of crafting and creation with the world and help bring peace between the sons of Fëanor and the Sindar.”

“Oh, how cruel that an elf with such a noble mission be imprisoned here in this fortress of death!”, he replied. Tyelperinquar immediately felt sympathy for him, as his face softened and he leaned in closer to hear more.

“I was imprisoned here after being ambushed in the forest by a party of orcs. They dragged me here and the great and powerful lord of this fortress tortured me.” Tyelperinquar could see the strange elf point to a gaping, still bleeding wound on his neck. 

“We can have your wound treated by one of my soldiers.”

The strange elf nodded and smiled slightly, “Thank you, dear friend. That is so kind of you.”

Tyelperinquar entered the cell and knelt down to meet the strange elf’s face. He appeared around the same age as Tyelperinquar with flawless skin. His deep golden eyes stared up at Tyelperinquar innocently, but there was a hint of something older in them, infinite and far beyond. 

 

He desperately wanted to ask who this elf truly was, there was something strange about him, something ethereal that Tyelperinquar wanted to know about.

“Ah, I see you have many questions, dear friend. Annatar smiled as Tyelperinquar’s smile widened, “And I shall answer them all in their due time. For now, shall we depart this wretched place?”

As if on cue, the soldier he had ordered away earlier shouted out, “Lord Tyelperinquar!”

Tyelperinquar reluctantly stood up and faced the soldier. “Yes, have you found anything else here?”

“No sir, nothing more.”

Tyelperinquar grunted, “Then let us leave these wretched cells.”

He turned to Annatar, who was still lying on the floor. “Can you walk?”

“Yes, but barely.”

“Do not worry, I will assist you.” He knelt down again and gently placed his arm around Annatar’s shoulders and with his other, grasped his waist from beneath. The enigmatic elf felt small and delicate in his hands as he picked him up and gently set him back down outside the door of his former cell. Tyelperinquar almost wanted to offer to carry Annatar, if only to feel him in his arms again, but he settled for having the enigmatic elf hang onto his arm.

“Hold onto me, okay? I will ensure you reach safety.”

Annatar tightly held onto him as they slowly walked up the stairs and back outside into the cold winter air. The other elves were gathered around a makeshift campfire and had already started setting up camp for the night. 

Tyelperinquar continued to hold onto Annatar as he addressed his soldiers.

“Bar all the doors that lead elsewhere in the fortress and set a watch immediately. I want nothing to ambush us while we are here.”

“Yes Lord Tyelperinquar!”, the elves acknowledged.

He turned toward Annatar, who was still tightly gripping him to remain balanced, “Here, let me take you to our healer.”

“I do not need treatment, it will heal on its own, but I thank you for your kindness, lord.”, Annatar said.

Tyelperinquar halted for a second. Why did he not wish to receive treatment for his injury? It appeared serious.

 

“Please, I insist we have it treated.”

“That is not necessary,”, the elf said as he covered the wound with his hand. Tyelperinquar did not question him any further as he led the enigmatic Annatar into his tent for rest and food. 

They both sat on simple cushions on the floor, a simple but often much needed luxury when out on patrol or after battle.

“You are no ordinary elf, are you?”, Tyelperinquar asked as he poured a cup of warm tea and handed it to Annatar. 

“You are an astute observer Lord Tyelperinquar. You are correct, I am no ordinary elf, I am more. A Maia of Aulë.”

Tyelperinquar’s eyes widened in wonder. A maia of Aulë? Here? What purpose would they have here beyond the forges of the Blessed Realm?

He stared at Annatar while a grin slowly formed on Tyelperinquar’s face. He wondered if this was one of the maia he had met or seen before as an elfling. Maybe that was why he felt so familiar and why he did not wish for his wound to be treated. Oh he had so many questions to ask them! 

Annatar returned his grin with a bright one of his own, “Thank you for rescuing me. I do not know how I could repay your kindness.“

“There is no need to repay me, great maia. Your presence here is a gift in of itself. You are an honored guest.”

“Please”, the maia bashfully replied, “I am but a humble servant of the Valar, here to aid the Children of Ilúvatar in their pursuits.”

The both of them sat in silence for a while, enjoying the small warmth the tea brought them along with the slowly growing dusk. Tyelperinquar’s heart raced at the thought of having a maia in his tent, next to him! What a delightful privilege that was. 

Tyelperinquar then sat up and walked to the edge of the tent, gazing out into the dark river and surrounding forest near the fortress. The sun was beginning its set, setting the sky alight with red and orange light. He sighed to himself, it was nice to see the sun again after being underground in Nargothrond for so long. As much as he enjoyed the sensation of exploring deep underground and exploring the bounty of what the earth had to offer, a beautiful sunset like this was nothing in comparison. It was nice being away from his father for a while, and being able to enjoy life on his own terms. 

But, his mind became concerned. What if father was unhappy with their progress? What if he tried to worm Tyelperinquar into his schemes once more when he returned? What if…? His mind began to wander and dreaded to think of the punishment that awaited him if he continued to deny his father the privilege of using his own son as a spy in Nargothrond. He lifted the sleeve of his tunic up to reveal the bruises and scars that covered his arm, some of which had come as a result of his own father’s wrath. 

He did not even notice Annatar slip next to him and place a comforting hand on his shoulder while lost in his thought.

The maia gazed at the bruises on Tyelperinquar’s arm curiously, as if studying a rare text. “Where did you receive those scars? Are they from battle?”, he asked innocently.

Tyelperinquar nearly jumped at the question but felt oddly soothed by Annatar’s voice. He quickly lowered the sleeve of his tunic back down, ashamed that such a powerful servant of the Valar had seen something so personal to him.

“Yes...they are.”, he answered, hoping Annatar did not catch the lie.

“Oh..I see.”, he sighed before continuing, “There are many battles we face in life. Those of the body and those of the mind. It seems that you are struggling with both, my friend.”

“That is none of your business…”, Tyelperinquar said harshly. He immediately regretted his tone when he saw Annatar remove his hand from his shoulder and look down dejectedly. 

“I-I am sorry, great maia. I did not mean to snap at you. I was...not expecting your question.”, Tyelperinquar quickly replied.

“Oh, that is alright. It was admittedly a very personal question that I ought not to have asked. I was...thinking out loud, especially given all that I have faced recently.”, Annatar said.

“Yes...being trapped in a cell for no other reason other than the cruel amusement of another is a harrowing experience.”, Tyelperinquar replied.

“And there are many ways to be trapped in a cell. Sometimes we create the cell ourselves, throw away the key, and lock ourselves inside, hoping that one day, someone may rescue us. Sometimes others create the cell for us and expect us to be thankful when they provide little warmth or comfort, only the bare necessities to exist.”

Annatar turned toward Tyelperinquar again, the last golden light of the day illuminating his face so that he appeared to shine as a being of light once more. 

Tyelperinquar’s eyes narrowed as he considered Annatar’s words. He was right, in a sense, the situation with his father was a battle that he fought in both mind and body. 

Annatar looked back toward the sunset, “You were sent here by another, were you not?”

“Yes,”, Tyelperinquar replied, “I was sent by my father to reclaim the fortress for my family, mainly my uncle and my father.”

“And why did they not do it themselves? If they are of the same blood as you, they ought to have supported you in such a risky endeavor. Beleriand is a dangerous place, especially given the growing shadow in the North.”

 

Tyelperinquar shivered. Morgoth, the Shadow of the North. All time seemed to stop as he considered the evils that the fallen one had committed, all the evil around them that existed as a result of his destructive powers over the land and earth, the theft of the Silmarils that resulted in his grandfather and father leaving the blissful shores of Aman to come to this darkened land. 

A tear began to form in his eye as he remembered the experience of crying and being dragged onto a white ship by his father, away from his mother, who desperately tried to drag him back before father slapped her in the face and she fell to the ground. He remembered crying for hours as the ship sailed further and further away from Aman, and how his father had harshly told him to quit crying and grow up, despite Tyelperinquar being barely above childhood in elf years. 

Even now, he and his father would get into shouting matches about why they were deceiving the court of Nargothrond for their own aims and how Tyelperinquar wanted none of it. Father would still occasionally hit him when he became very angry, but mostly ignored Tyelperinquar after he had grown. Uncle Celegorm pitied him, but did nothing to stop Father, except in the most dire of situations. Even as a child, Father would generally ignore Tyelperinquar in favor of political machinations and crafting, and Tyelperinquar would often seek out Fingon Felagund after they moved away from Himlad. Finrod was so kind to him, treating Tyelperinquar as his own son, despite Curufin’s immense displeasure and jealousy. Perhaps that was why Curufin sought dominion over Nargothrond, as a way to avenge the fact that Finrod was a far better father for Curufin’s own son than he had been. Tyelperinquar had considered this fact in the past, and maintained within his own mind, that it was his father’s main reason for playing political games with the court. Of course, his father’s desire for power was the other, but they were both one and the same in Tyelperinquar’s mind. Both relied on the dominion of one over the other, and his father was a very competitive elf, always striving to be the best. It was that fiery spirit that he inherited from his father, no doubt.

He sighed and sniffled more. He hated that he was starting to cry in front of Annatar.

Annatar noticed the tears that were beginning to fall from the elf’s face and gently placed his hand back on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It is okay to cry, Tyelperinquar. Whatever you are struggling with, it is okay to release the pain through tears.”

Tyelperinquar started to sob and told Annatar of all that was in his mind, of his painful journey toward Aman and away from his mother, of being abused by his father and how he was currently being used in their political games, of Finrod and his kind nature, of all the days that Tyelperinquar had cried and prayed to the Valar that his father would die, and Finrod would adopt him.

He eventually collapsed onto the ground in grief, and Annatar led him back to his cushion in the tent. 

 

“You know, Tyelperinquar, I have been through a similar situation myself.”, Annatar began empathically, “I too, left Aman on an unpleasant note. When Morgoth destroyed the trees, I was afire with vengeance, I wished him annihilated for the destruction of such a beautiful work of art as the Trees. Despite my master, Aulë’s, orders, I fled Aman in the guise of fire falling from heaven, hoping that my sacrifice would somehow matter, that I may be responsible for Morgoth’s doom. It was not so as I fell to the earth, far from my original goal. I wandered the land for a long time, learning all I could about its inhabitants until I was captured by the Terrible Lord of Tol-in-Gaurhoth. I was tortured and beaten for what felt like years, until you came and rescued me. No matter how daunting your past and present struggles were and now, you are still here, still alive and strong. I am proud of you Tyelperinquar, for pushing through all of those obstacles, for continuing to do your best despite everything.”

Tyelperinquar stared up at Annatar with tear filled eyes, “Thank you, friend. No one, not since Finrod, has told me they are proud of me.”

Annatar knelt down on the ground next to Tyelperinquar, who had hugged his knees to his chest. “You deserve to have someone tell you that they are proud of you all the time, someone who shares in the joys of life with you, someone who shares their gifts and helps you grow.”

Tyelperinquar’s eyes widened at the prospect. Could it be true? Could it be that Annatar was the savior in his life that he needed all along? Could he be the answer to his prayers to the Valar that he had long uttered? Perhaps Manwë or Aulë had heard him and allowed fate to be twisted in such a way that Annatar would come into his life at this exact moment, when he was unsure of his path in life.

Annatar seemed to sense the questions arising in Tyelperinquar’s mind and gently whispered, “I can help you, Tyelperinquar. I can be that friend that you’ve always wanted, nay, deserved. Imagine having a friend by your side that will always care about you, always listen, always create with you.”

He then wrapped Tyelperinquar in a warm hug that instantly melted all of his anger and sadness away like a wick quickly burning through a wax candle. 

Tyelperinquar’s mind began to whirl with thoughts of having the maia all to himself, whose knowledge he could use to win over his father and perhaps, surpass him. He imagined Annatar and himself, the greatest of friends, crafting the most beautiful works of art that dwarfed even the Silmarils of Fëanor. A small part of him wondered if Annatar would protect him from his father too, or even smite him for his sins.

 

“All you have to do is ask for help, Tyelperinquar. There is no shame in that.”

Annatar was right, all he had to do was ask and he would receive. 

He sniffled and pleaded, “Can you teach me some of your knowledge? About smithing, the places you’ve been, about Valinor, about Aulë, anything.”

Annatar smiled broadly, “Of course, I would be happy to share my knowledge and gifts with you. You did rescue me from that dreadful cell, of course, and I do love to reward those who aid me as well as you have. Thank you for being strong enough to ask, Tyelperinquar. We are friends and allies now, and I shall follow you on whatever journey we embark on.”

Tyelperinquar smiled broadly. Oh, how he reveled in the idea of having a maia of Aulë share his knowledge with him and no one else. His father would be incredibly jealous if he learned of this revelation. He would have to keep Annatar a secret for now, but he could present him as a prisoner of the tower and under Tyelperinquar’s protection. The court in Nargothrond was not unfamiliar with refugees from this fortress, and he could present him as simply the last one to be found. His father would likely not care about a single elf that had escaped once he heard the news of the fortress being overtaken. He would have Annatar all to himself.

As dawn arose, Tyelperinquar smiled broadly as he eagerly rode away from Tol-in-Gaurhoth back to Nargothrond with Annatar, his new friend, by his side.

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