#chapter five part 1

Panic was still clouding Lúthien’s every thought, even after two days of knowing, and weeks of careful preparation. The thought of Beren, her Beren, captured by that abomination that called himself Sauron and held captive was very neigh unbearable, as was the fear of coming too late to safe him. At least, Lúthien thought, she would not have to do it alone. Daeron would be with her, and that was a tremendous relief. It paid off now that she had not had the heart to tell him that she had long since forgiven him, for he had been so eager to get back into her favours that he had agreed to come despite his misgivings. Part of her felt guilty for that, knowing how much Daeron was loathe to leave Doriath to go on some adventure, an adventure, moreover, with the mission of rescuing the man she loved, inevitably changing their relationship forever, and be sure to earn him his king’s wrath. It was selfish to use Daeron’s love for her for her own ends, she was well aware of it, yet it could not be helped if Beren was to be saved. And if he wasn’t, Lúthien reasoned, Daeron would lose her anyway, for she knew with absolute certainty that she could not survive losing Beren. Her mother’s words still rang through her mind, nothing should seem good nor fair… That was precisely how she herself felt, too. The very idea of life without Beren seemed to take all the warmth from the sun. Funnily enough though, that thought had something very reassuring, for if she felt for Beren the same way her mother felt for her father, then her feelings were beyond any doubt true and not, as her father still was convinced, fleeting as summer in the north. Yes, one day, Beren would die, her mind knew that, but her heart refused to believe it or indeed think about it ere it was inevitable. She would tackle the problem then, in many, many years. Her feet made no sound as she hastened to the little glade where she would meet Daeron, moving swiftly through the woods that had so long been her home and that she now was to leave. Already she saw him standing there, hooded, his head bowed as if in grief, and when she drew nearer, she saw that his shoulders shook in a way that told her only too clearly that he was indeed crying. Pity gripped her heart, but she could not release him from this predicament, she needed him too badly. “Let’s go.” She breathed once she reached him. Slowly he looked up at her, his fair face streaked with tears. “I’m sorry, Lúthien. So sorry.” Daeron sobbed. “But I could not let you walk to your death!” “And neither can I.” said a voice behind her.