Chapter Text
Tell me... Do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?
The cell was like every other cell she'd seen in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the main difference being the occupant. There were elves and men and at least one dwarf being kept here, all of them belonging to the Free Peoples of Arda.
And, apparently, a single wolf, chained to the wall by its right forepaw.
She was unsure what this one had done to deserve imprisonment, however it did not surprise her that Gorthaur would treat his own animals this way. But... Perhaps this fellow was a potential ally?
She slipped onto the ground from her perch.
The wolf immediately looked up.
Lúthien smiled, hoping to put the poor creature at ease, before remembering --
She didn't exactly have a pleasant smile right now.
Still.
She did not retract the smile. Instead, she sharpened it.
"Would you like to get out of here?"
The wolf's ears went flat. It growled.
"Oh, don't give me that. Here, a show of faith." Lúthien hummed out a sharp note. The chain snapped.
The wolf seemed surprised by this development. It shook out its paw. The part of the chain still attached to it rattled. It looked sharply over to her.
Its eyes narrowed.
And there was something in those eyes... a light, like the reflection of light on silver, a keen intelligence... it told her that she'd either made the right decision in picking this beast, or the very, very wrong one. (If Gorthaur had deemed this beast so dangerous that it had to be locked away...)
The wolf made straight for the cell bars.
Lúthien watched curiously as he scratched some of the stones along the cell's edge.
She watched for a few moments, head cocked, before making her offer. "If you swear not to attack me, I'll open the door for you."
She did not know if he understood, nor if he even had the ability to speak in return, but it was worth a shot.
He looked sharply up at her. Those bright, keen eyes met her own. Time dragged for a few moments.
And then, he nodded.
Lúthien hesitated only a second humming out a few more notes to cleave the door's lock.
The wolf padded over to the door and nudged it open. Its hinges screeched abuses at being used. The wolf stepped out of his cell.
She immediately plopped herself down on his back.
He growled and shifted to look at her, but, true to his word, did not attack.
"Good boy. Now, listen. I need your help. There is a certain prisoner I need to find, and then we're getting out of here, and you're going to help me if you want to escape too, got it?"
The wolf jerked his head in a another nod.
"Good. Now, let's get going."
There were orcs patrolling everywhere, repeating her description to one another, looking for her.
A renegade imp, small, spindly, big-eyed and sharp-toothed, with a cloak of dark hair.
It was only after several hours of hunting through corridors, dodging the constant sweeps of guards, and steadily moving onward that Lúthien and the wolf found -- someone. Not who she was looking for but -- someone she recognized. Someone she knew.
He wasn't in a cell with bars like where Lúthien had found the wolf. This one was behind an unlocked but thick and heavy wooden door.
The room was deep underground, and so had no windows, but was dressed as though it was the finest prince's bedroom, with rich fabrics and ornate wooden tables.
The room's occupant, however, was an ellon dressed in scraps, with a choppy, uneven cut to his hair. Hair that was, Lúthien knew, beneath the dirt and grime, a golden blond.
The wolf froze upon seeing the prisoner. He let out a low whine.
Lúthien patted his head and hopped off his back.
The prisoner looked up at the wolf's noise, and tensed when he saw them.
"Finrod. It is good to see you again. You look terrible."
"Tinúviel." He pronounced the name with a dry throat. "Why are you here? Or is this -- is it a trick?"
"How long have you been here?"
"You already know. Since the Dagor Bragollach."
Yes... but Lúthien had not imagined he'd survived that dreadful battle. From the stories she'd heard of it...
Finrod tilted his head. "You sound like my cousin, but you do not look like her. Odd. He usually takes a fair form."
The wolf whined again. He stepped forward.
Finrod pressed himself back.
Lúthien held out a hand to still the wolf.
"It's really me, Tinúviel, your cousin. I've been... diminished. And cursed."
Finrod frowned and shook his head. "My cousin is in Doriath. Under the protection of Queen Melian."
"I am not an immutable landmark, cousin. I have purposes and the power to act on them."
Finrod looked away. "So you say. I still do not believe you to be her."
"That is fine, then. I do not need you to believe."
Finrod still did not look at her.
The wolf nudged his way past Lúthien to press his nose into Finrod's hands.
Finrod twitched away, before turning to look at the beast. Slowly, he brought up a hand to rest on the wolf's head.
"Such a proud beast..." he murmured. "I see you are unbroken by the tender hospitality of Sauron. The fire of life burns hot within you."
The wolf licked Finrod's hands.
Finrod's mouth twitched. Then he leaned forward and buried his face in the wolf's fur. His shoulders began to shake. The wolf nuzzled him.
Lúthien waited a few moments before asking, "Finrod. I seek a man named Beren. Do you know if he's here?"
Finrod shook his head. "No, no... He was, but is no longer. He was here. Then he... he went North."
Lúthien felt cold.
"He did not escape, then?"
Finrod lifted his head, confused. "If he did, it was after I knew him. I swear, I know nothing else."
The wolf whined and nuzzled into Finrod again.
"This... this is not an interrogation, cousin." Luthien reached a hand forward to comfort.
He flinched away.
She huffed, frustrated. "Cousin, we will be leaving this place. Come with us."
He looked away and shook his head. "No. No, I must stay. I must. He will find me if I leave, and what of the other thralls?"
Her heart squeezed painfully. "I tried to duel Sauron, to free everyone here, but I was alone. Would that I had succeeded. With no one to watch my back, he gained the upper hand. He managed to curse me into this form, that of a goblin-imp, and he diminished my power in the process. I am hunted, rendered near helpless. I need allies. I could use your help."
Her words seemed to have little impact upon him.
He simply shook his head, reprating, "I can't, I can't, I can't --"
The mismatched march of an orc patrol penetrated the walls of Finrod's cell. Her time was up.
She had little choice but to leave him behind. She would come back to save him if she could, but until then, she could not save someone who didn't want to be saved.
Sneaking out of Tol-in-Gaurhoth required her to use every bit of skill she possessed. She gathered shadows up in her hair, and then used them to cloak herself and her wolf. With this, they passed unseen where they could.
Where they could not, their passage required the use of her wolf companion's teeth. He stalked, then leapt upon, then crushed the throats of every sentry werewolf they came across, those who could sniff them out.
Snapping and snarling, tearing and rending. He was fierce and brutal. His maw dripped red by the end.
Lúthien was very glad they were on the same side.
They were pursued after their escape. Ever they traveled west, away from Tol-in-Gaurhoth, still south of Hithlum, pinned against Ered Wethrin.
The days and nights passed in grueling suspense. The chain around the wolf's paw kept dragging and catching against undergrowth, and it left gouges in the wet earth after it rained, or whenever they had to ford a stream. This provided a clear trail for their pursuers to follow.
During this time, Lúthien began to notice something.
Now that they were out of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the wolf was... obedient. Oddly obedient. It simply went where she directed and made no protests of any kind. But she wasn't complaining.
She pressed them both onward until they reached the Pools of Ivrin. There, they slowed their pace, conserving their energy.
By this point, it had been several weeks since they'd left Tol-in-Gaurhoth. They seemed to have evaded the pursuit for now, and since they were here, they might as well rest, just a bit. The next leg of their journey would be difficult. Any rest that they gathered would better equip them to succeed.
It was during this rest that Lúthien looked upon her wolf and decided that he needed a proper name.
His eyes still burned with that silvery light, though it was less obvious under the light of the sun. Something entirely new, something that she had not expected, was the russet sheen to his fur.
Additionally, when she'd first found him, he'd been a half-starved thing. But already, under her care, he'd gained some weight. His ribs were not visible now, at least. He was almost handsome, healthy and robust-looking.
A russet-colored, shapely wolf.
As they walked along the pools of Ivrin one day, her mounted atop his back, Lúthien leaned forward to rub his muzzle. "I've thought of a name for you. Want to hear it?"
The wolf lifted his head up. His nose touched her hand. She took this as an affirmative.
"How about... Maedhros?"
The wolf looked back to the pool before them and tilted his head. He was considering, probably.
The conclusion was that he nodded firmly and then took to stretching.
"I'll take that as a yes." She rubbed the top of his head again. "It's nice to meet you, Maedhros."
Maedhros huffed. She took that as, It's nice to meet you too.
She smiled. "Well, Maedhros, we're well out of reach of Tol-in-Gaurhoth. If you'd like to keep traveling together, we can, and I won't deny that I would like your protection, but I won't hold you captive. If there's somewhere you'd like to go, you are free to go there. I will not impede you."
Maedhros paused, then turned his head to look at her with big, inquisitive eyes.
"I'm not sending you away! I'm just letting you know that it's an option," Lúthien rushed to explain. "The quest I am on -- it is not one I would put on anyone else unawares."
The wolf tilted his head, conveying curiosity.
"There is a mortal man," Lúthien began. "Beren, Son of Barahir, of the House of Bëor. He... he went into danger because of me, to Tol-in-Gaurhoth. I went there to save him, for it was my fault, and he has an enormous bounty on his head. That's how I met you. But now I have learned that he was taken to Angband, and so my road now leads me there, though I had hoped and prayed it would not."
He now stopped completely, again, and knelt in silent command for her to dismount.
She did so with a sinking heart. "I see. Well, I... I cannot do much for you. My form is... well... impish, currently, and my power was impaired in a duel with Gorthaur the Cruel. But I can give you a sketch of these lands we are in. To the northeast is Tol-in-Gaurhoth, and beyond that, southeast, is Doriath. South is Nargothrond. To the north are the Mountains of Terror, and they are filled with evil spiders of twisted origin. To the north of them is Dor Lómin, and east of that is the territory and camps of the Noldor."
Maedhros' ears pricked up.
Lúthien smiled bitterly. "Yes, the Noldor. They are a warlike people. Violent. Unpredictable. They're even hostile amongst themselves. Thankfully, though, their ire is currently directed even further north, toward Bauglir, the Dark Lord."
Maedhros huffed a breath.
"They're at war with him." She explained. "He killed their first king and stole their greatest works. I... do admire their sheer bravery and gall, if nothing else."
Maedhros gave a small bark.
... It was probably time Lúthien admitted to herself that she could not understand wolves.
"You admire them too?" She guessed.
Maedhros huffed, then shook his head in a back and forth motion.
"You do not admire them?"
Maedhros barked.
... She really, really did not understand Wolf.
"You admire them very much?"
He shook his head again.
"You want to know more about the Noldor?"
He nodded.
Lúthien breathed a sigh of relief. "I would not recommend going to them. I was only heading in their direction out of necessity. They can be unfriendly, as I said, even to each other. They're a divided people, you see, half under King Fingon and the other half under King Maglor."
Maedhros jerked back.
"Why are you so surprised?"
Maedhros whined.
Lúthien reached out and patted his head. "I promise they're not all bad. I've met some good ones, ones I've trusted, and they spoke highly of some others."
She did not mention that Finrod was one of these.
Maedhros nudged his nose against her.
She smiles ruefully and begins scratching behind his ears. "As I said, the decision is up to you."
Maedhros poked his nose into her belly.
Lúthien made an indignant squawk and tried not to show how ticklish she was. She wasn't sure she succeeded.
He did it again, more insistently.
She laughed, pushing his muzzle away. "Alright, alright! Is this your way of saying you want to come with me?"
Maedhros gave a strange little doggy smile. And then he licked her face from her jaw to her hairline, across her cheek.
Still laughing, she pushed his face away. "Yes, very well!" As her laughter died, her smile became smaller, more serious. "Thank you."
Maedhros barked gently and sat back on his haunches.
Her smile turned rueful. "The only problem now is... supplies, I suppose. Food should be easy enough to acquire, at least for now, but I have no other gear, and my power has been muted by Gorthaur's attack on my person."
Maedhros huffed and looked down. Slowly, but with a steady paw, he traced an image in the dirt with his claws.
A crude sword, followed by a shield.
"Yes. Those. They might be useful. I have no training in swords, but how hard could it be? You just swing it around."
Maedhros looked at her, eyes narrowing.
Lúthien spread her palms before him. "Don't look at me like that! My father didn't want me to learn! Anyway, it was peaceful when I was a child. Also, I've always preferred my mother's arts to any other methods."
Maedhros leaned forward to poke her with his wet nose. He froze before he made contact, ears flicking. He pulled back and looked over his shoulder.
Lúthien went tense. Then, she heard it.
A splash nearby.
She and Maedhros both crouched low. He began stalking forward. She followed not far behind, silent, gathering shadows behind her with her hair.
The sound came from the bank of a nearby pool. The source of the splash, as it turned out, was not hard to find.
There was an elf, lying there, half in the water.
His hair was matted and tangled and dotted with grey, like an adan in his latter years. He was dressed in rags, and from underneath these poked innumerable scars. Some old enough to be nothing more than fireworks of silvery lines. Others were newer, red and puckered.
Careful to remain in the shadows, Lúthien circled him until she could see his face. What she saw made her blood freeze in her veins.
The scars reached his face, converging over his eyes, which were open, revealing them to be entirely of a milky white.
Lúthien had never seen such mutilation before. It made her stomach turn.
She stumbled back, right into Maedhros, who grunted.
The deformed elf's face immediately turned toward them.
"Well...?" He croaked. "Kill me."
Her horror redoubled.
Maedhros whined and stepped around her. He padded up to the elf and nudged him with his nose. The elf cringed away.
This had to be an escaped thrall, Lúthien decided.
What had her father told her about thralls?
There is no such thing as an 'escaped' thrall. All are agents of Bauglir, whether they realize it or not. For the safety of everyone, we must send them away, back to their master.
"Maedhros," Lúthien called. He looked over at her, eyes shining and silver. "We should..."
We should go. It was on the tip of her tongue.
A thought of her mother stayed her.
You must be kind to the others, because they are weak, her mother had said. You are not a maia, you have a fëa, like any elf, and should you die, your fate would be as any elf, but your fëa holds great power. Use it carefully. Be kind. To be kind is always the correct decision.
"We have to help him." Lúthien swallowed. "We cannot leave him here to die on the banks."
Maedhros inclined his head, then returned his attention to the elf below him. He began sniffing at his wounds.
Lúthien tentatively moved forward. "Do you have a name, Master Thrall?"
He was silent long enough that Lúthien supposed he wasn't going to answer when he said, barely above a murmur, "Gelmir, son of Guilin."
"A star shines on the hour of our meeting, Gelmir, son of Guilin. I am Tinúviel." She took a breath, unsure where to go from here.
Maedhros had begun licking Gelmir's wounds. She snapped her fingers at him, like she might a naughty hunting dog. "Stop that!"
Maedhros stopped, then sat back guiltily.
"You have a fair voice," Gelmir observed, still in that murmur. "It is wholesome and not over-sweet."
Ah. How did one respond to that?
"... Thank you?" And then she remembered Gorthaur Sauron and his cloying, sickly sweet voice. More firmly, she repeated, "Thank you. Now come, where are you from? Where can we find your family?"
"The location of Nargothrond is a secret and I shall not be the one to reveal it."
Lúthien blinked. "Nargothrond? Oh, that's along the Narog. I could bring you there.
Gelmir went very still.
She hurried to explain, "I have kin there."
He relaxed. "My brother is there, and maybe my father also."
"We can ensure you get to them," Lúthien promised.
"I am being hunted by orcs. It may not be wise."
"So are we. Perhaps we will have a better chance together."
Gelmir smiled faintly. "I'm not sure that's how it will work."
"Perhaps not."
"How many of you are there? Why are you being hunted?"
Lúthien paused to consider. "We are two. We come from Tol-in-Gaurhoth, from whence we are pursued."
"Tol-in... that is Sauron's domain." Gelmir noted. "You escaped him?"
"We did. But come, can you stand? If we are to travel together, we will have twice the pursuers to contend with."
Gelmir sat up and shakily tried to get to his feet. Maedhros was at his side in a moment, ducking under his arm, giving him something to lean on.
"If we are to travel together," Gelmir grunted, fingers digging into Maedhros' fur, "then we shall have an advantage in that orcs of differing origins seldom get along very well. Even if they band together against us, they will quarrel amongst themselves."
Lúthien inclined her head, prepared to defer to his judgement. Then she realized that he couldn't actually see her agreement, and so said aloud, "As you say. You will have more experience in these things than I."
And so Tinúviel and Maedhros' travels with Gelmir of Nargothrond began.
Lúthien was their guide. As the one with the shortest legs, she usually rode astride her werewolf companion while Gelmir walked at their side. Sometimes they switched places, like when they were on uncertain terrain or when Gelmir looked like he might collapse from exhaustion. And though he never complained, sometimes nobody rode upon Maedhros' back. Lúthien didn't want him to overexert himself.
One evening, as they traced the banks of the Narog, Lúthien asked how Gelmir had made it to the pools of Ivrin.
Gelmir had walked in silence for a minute before admitting that he'd been following what the trees and the stones had told him. They had been his eyes and his greatest aid in his flight from the mines of Angband. They had told him places to hide, where he could find food, when his pursuers were close to him, and where to go next in order to find a pool of healing water. From there, his plan had been to follow the river's course down until he found... something. If you follow a river long enough, you will eventually find civilization. If he had not found his own people, then he would have at least tried to reach Círdan's.
Lúthien listened to all of this with wonder. She hadn't thought that one so blinded would have been able to be so self-sufficient.
Maedhros, for his part, nuzzled Gelmir's hand. Gelmir patted his head.
That was all that was said on the subject. The next day, as Lúthien sat atop Maedhros, she made a passing comment on the weather and on how little rain they'd had.
Gelmir turned his head in her general direction and commented, thoughtfully, "You are shorter than I thought you would be, when we first met."
From where she sat, Gelmir stood a head taller than her. (In her true form, Lúthien told herself, she suspected that she would be taller than Gelmir, though she wasn't sure by how much. She'd have to show him when she got it back.)
Lúthien hesitated. With a bitter taste on her tongue, she admitted, "I am an imp. And my companion, he is a..."
"A wolf. A very large one. A werewolf?" Gelmir guessed.
She could feel Maedhros tensing beneath her.
When neither replied, Gelmir continued, "How did you... tame him? Remind him of...?"
She scoffed. "I did not tame him! He was like this when we met!"
"Oh." Gelmir walked in silence a little while. Finally, he added, "That is... quite unusual for one of his kind."
"Perhaps. Gaurthor had him locked up by himself."
Gelmir thought on this and said no more.
The night after, Lúthien built a small fire while Maedhros went to hunt for their dinner. As she sat back, warming her hands, Gelmir renewed the topic.
"Do you know how werewolves are made?" Gelmir asked quietly.
Lúthien looked up at him. "Draugluin sired the race."
"Some are made that way, yes. I daresay most of them are. But not all." Gelmir canted his head to the side. "How was Draugluin created? Do you know?"
"He is... an evil spirit in wolf-like form."
"Mm. Yes. And he became so through Sauron, who twisted him into what he is now. Probably Draugluin is an úmaia of lesser power who now inhabits the body of a wolf creature that Sauron bred." Gelmir's mouth twisted to the side. "But Sauron has not ceased twisting bodies and spirits into his werewolves. Sometimes he makes new ones, which he then gives to Draugluin. I... I think your Maedhros was one of these. I do not think he was born a werewolf."
Lúthien sat back and considered this. "If he was not a werewolf, what was he?"
"Man, elf, I know not. But the fact that he was somehow never broken by Sauron..." Gelmir trailed off, then shook his head. "It's a wonder."
She smiled to herself and shared her opinion. "He might seem like a good, obedient wolf, but he has a defiant streak a mile wide saved up for the Enemy."
"More like as wide as the sundering seas, if it's what kept him safe from complete corruption." Gelmir murmured.
Lúthien chuckled.
When Maedhros returned from his hunt, two rabbits between his teeth, he found Lúthien and Gelmir sitting in thoughtful silence.
It was a journey of many days before they reached Taur-en-Faroth and the territory of Nargothrond.
The orcs pursuing them had nearly caught up to them twice, but Lúthien and her companions had proven faster than they. Though they had needed to keep up a neck breaking speed to accomplish this, and the chain around Maedhros' forepaw was doing them no favors.
Hence, Lúthien's relief at seeing the forest up ahead was immense. She made sure to share the good news -- how close they were -- with Gelmir and Maedhros as soon as possible.
Gelmir stared ahead, unseeing as always, but far more hopeful than she'd ever seen him so far.
Within Taur-en-Faroth, before they'd even made it within sight of the stream of Ringwil, they were met with a party of elven marchwardens.
These were, understandably, suspicious. After all, an imp, a werewolf, and a thrall had just wandered into their forest, heading straight for their hidden city.
Their names were demanded of them. Before Lúthien could respond, Gelmir straightened and and boldly spoke for her.
"I am Gelmir, son of Guilin of Nargothrond. These are Tinúviel and Maedhros, my guides and companions."
A murmur went up among the marchwardens. Their captain detached himself from his people and stepped forward.
"Gelmir?!"
Gelmir started. "Gwindor?"
"Ai, Gelmir! We thought you lost!" Gwindor, the captain, ran to his brother, stopping just short of giving him an embrace. "What happened? What was done to you?!"
Gelmir shrunk away. "I..."
His voice trailed off. He said nothing more.
More gently, Gwindor said, "Our father has missed you. Shall I take you to him?"
"Captain..." one of the soldiers spoke up warily. "We do not know if he is compromised."
Gwindor barely spared him a glance. "I do not care if he is. He is my brother."
"But what of his fell companions?" Another soldier asked, eyeing Lúthien and Maedhros.
Lúthien lifted her chin.
"I know they look foul -- Tinúviel the Imp has told me as much -- but they do not feel so." Gelmir came to their rescue.
"Then we will put them under gaurd and escort them to Queen Finduilas, and she shall judge them." Gwindor decreed.
Maedhros stared intently at Gwindor, ears flicking. He inclined his head.
With that, Lúthien allowed them to be lead off.
Lúthien and Maedhros were both blindfolded for their trip into Nargothrond. Maedhros was muzzled as well. He'd allowed this, though Lúthien could see his fur standing on end.
The sound of the Narog accompanied them in their journey. The trees around them were alive and curious at the intruders in their realm. A breeze tickled her skin and played with her hair.
When the breeze stilled and the trees receded and the Narog quieted, Lúthien knew that they had entered Nargothrond.
If Lúthien were not already long used to Menegroth, the sense of being encased in stone might have unnerved her. As it was, the stone here was different and strange to her. She wondered if it had to do with the petty dwarves who used to dwell in these caverns.
They walked some ways yet before she and and Maedhros were deposited in a room together. Their blindfolds were not removed. Two gaurds remained to watch over them while the rest of the party continued on, Gelmir included.
There was nothing for it from here but to wait.
Lúthien reached out for Maedhros. He wasn't far off. She tangled her fingers into his fur and buried her face in his side. He curled around her.
They were inside Nargothrond, now. It was safe to finally, truly rest. She and Maedhros both took the opportunity to do so.
----------
The door to their room opened and several newcomers entered. Some were from the patrol they'd run across earlier. Some were not.
The most outstanding of them all, however, was an elleth with golden hair, woven with flowers made of wire and precious stone. Her silk dress was the palest pink, and altogether, she looked like a coming dawn. Young, having just lived through a dark night.
Queen Finduilas of Nargothrond.
She regarded each Lúthien and Maedhros in turn, eyes hard as marble. (Lúthien grieved for the little girl she'd once known. All joy and innocence. Ai, curse Bauglir for the transformations he wrought upon them all!)
"Have you come to spy upon us?" Finduilas asked at last.
Maedhros wined and tucked his tail.
"No." Lúthien firmly replied.
"Gelmir says you come from Tol-in-Gaurhoth."
"He speaks the truth."
"How did you know of Nargothrond's location?"
Lúthien spread her hands. "I have kin here."
One of the elves behind Finduilas scoffed. "Perhaps you do not know that the petty dwarves no longer live here."
Lúthien bristled. "I did not choose my diminutive height, nor indeed my misshapen features!"
Maedhros huffed softly and nudged her with his wet nose.
She forced herself to take a deep breath. "I am under a curse. The one you call Sauron put this form upon me after I challenged him to single combat, my sorcery against his."
Some of the newcomers looked thoughtful, some skeptical. Queen Finduilas was among the latter.
"How did you escape after your duel?" The Queen asked.
"I can disappear into shadow when I so desire, your majesty." For emphasis, Lúthien pulled the mantle of her hair close about her, making it appear as though she were clothed in literal shadows.
Finduilas' eyes narrowed. "And what are the names of your kin in Nargothrond?"
"Finrod Felagund, for one."
This claim was met with stunned silence. Maedhros took his eyes off of the queen and her entourage to quietly regard Lúthien.
"You claim to be... my cousin Tinúviel?" Finduilas asked, the first to recover.
"It is no mere claim." Lúthien lifted her chin. "I have known you, Finduilas Faelivrin, daughter of Meril and Orodreth, since before you were born."
"So you know my name and that of my parents. It proves nothing--"
Lúthien cut her off. "You were born in spring on the shores of the pools of Ivrin. Your mother used to bring you into Doriath in the winters. Your uncle, Oropher, would carry you about on his shoulders when you were small. You know how to bake Lembas, but your father once told me in confidence that you always leave it in a little too long."
Finduilas looked extremely uncomfortable. Her people behind her were eyeing one another, visibly remembering the last time each and every one of them had tried their Queen's Lembas.
"You have a cousin who used to toddle after you with such determination during feasts because you would sneak him treats when you thought no one was looking."
"You saw that?!" Finduilas covered her mouth with her hand, looking pale. "Evil cannot pierce the Girdle of Melian. The only way you could know that is if someone told you -- but who saw? Who would have told you that did?"
"Your Majesty, I swear to you that I am who I claim to be. I swear that though my body has been twisted, my fëa is yet uncorrupted. And I swear that I mean neither you nor Nargothrond or anyone under your protection any harm."
Beside Lúthien, Maedhros let out a low whine. She reached over to rest a reassuring hand on his head.
Finduilas took a shaky breath. "Yes. Very well." She glanced to the side, at one of her people, then back to Lúthien and Maedhros. "Lord Guilin had offered to host you while you stay in Nargothrond. I will have you escorted to his home. After you have been settled, I will call you to me again. There is... much we must still discuss."