The History of the Silmarils - Season 4, Episode 2

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The History of the Silmarils - Season 4, Episode 2

Post by Elentári »

Season 4 Episode 2

[Scene opens on Finrod, Beren, Edrahil and the nine other companions setting out from the Gates of Nargothrond as Anar dips beneath the western side of the Gorge. Few of the Nargothrondrim have found the courage to see their King off, and those that have are the silent and sorrowful families of those departing, who do not expect to see their loved ones again. Orodreth is there, with his wife,, holding their young son, Ereinion, whilst their daughter, Finduilas, clings to her father’s hand.

Finrod smiles and takes Ereinion from his mother's arms. He joyfully swings him around in a circle, and the child, too young to understand the sorrow in his elders, laughs gaily and with abandon as only a child can. Finrod gives the baby a kiss then gives him back to his mother. Finduilas shyly reaches out for a hug and kiss, too, and Finrod complies.]

Finrod: [to Beren] You are ready, my friend?
Beren: [looks subdued but purposeful. Nods firmly.] Perhaps the help of you and your companions will be enough for me to win through. Whatever happens though, at least Lúthien is still safe in Doriath. She knows as I do that this is meant to be an impossible task… [looks away momentarily] I wish though, that should I fail, I could have said farewell to her. [Finrod nods, before turning and signalling for the Company to move out.As the Company walks down the gorge, Orodreth stands gazing after them, long after the last of the Company has gone from sight. Meril moves to stand next to him, taking his hand. He looks down and gave her a small smile, before returning his gaze to the path along the Narog as the river flows past and Ithil rises above them. Fade.]

* * *

[Fade back in to clips of the company travelling along the river Narog towards its source in Lake Ivrin, walking by night and resting and waiting by day, and growing more silent as they approach the shadows of the Ered Wethrin. The lands seem empty, yet the Elves become uneasy, sensing a hostile presence; even Beren notices the fear in the birds and animals.. Autumn has begun and there is an edge to the wind blowing into their faces.]

Finrod: [pointing ahead] Soon we will have to turn Northeast, between Ered Wethrin and the highlands of Taur-nu-Fuin, risking the path pass Tol-in-Gaurhoth: we must evade the evil eye of Morgoth’s lieutenant, Gorthaur the Cruel at all costs.
Beren: [concerned] Orcs and wolves roam all about it; how will we pass unseen?
Finrod:. I have been considering our options…I believe our greatest chance of success is if we disguise ourselves as orcs so that we might pass the Isle of Werewolves undetected. [there are some murmurs of disgust from a couple of the Elves but Edrahil quietens them.]
Edrahil: [nods to Finrod] there is wisdom in your strategy… Unless anyone has a better suggestion, as soon as we meet a company of Orcs that is not too large to overcome easily, we shoot the first twelve and fell the others with our swords. [grim but determined faces accept the decision without further protest. Cut]

* * * * * * *

[Fade in to scene by the Falls of Ivrin under the shadowy mountains to the west.: Finrod and company come upon a band of orcs camping near the Falls. The orcs are slain, Beren proving himself no mean archer and as skilled a swordsman as any of the Elves, and their gear and clothing are removed. Beren and the elves put on the foul orc raiment, gagging at the stench. They smear their hands and cheeks with grime. Finrod starts to sing a spell to change their faces into orcish snouts and their teeth into fangs...on some their hair grows sparse and on others it darkens and becomes matted. One by one he transforms the company into hideous Orcs, until at last he lifts his hands to his own face, withdrawing them slowly while his singing fades.]

Finrod: Come, our transformation is complete. Let us continue our journey northward into the Pass of Sirion. [Fade]

* * *

[Fade in to scene of slavering wolves racing through the woods…cut back to Finrod and company hearing the howls in the distance]
Edrahil: [exchanging look with Finrod] We will be overtaken if we continue on this path…we must turn westward and hope they will mistake our scent for troops returning to the fortress.

[The disguised company makes their way along the western bank of the Sirion, next to the larger set of mountains that rise on either side of the river. To their left are tall river weeds. The only sound heard is the rolling water of the river. An island can be seen with a fortress overlooking the flatter lands to the north. Finrod grimaces at the sight of his tower of Tol Siron, now in the hands of Morgoth’s greatest and most evil lieutenant, Sauron. A miasma of evil veils the island and all of them feel sick to the pits of their stomachs from the effect. Edrahil surreptitiously takes Beren’s arm to keep him from stumbling. ]

Edrahil: [whispers] Steady now,
Beren: [ nods, fighting not to vomit and give them all away. ]

* * *

[The shot pans to inside the tower with Sauron watching their approach. He is very suspicious.]

Sauron: What company passes north in such haste without paying tribute to the Lord of this Isle? [Orcs shrug their shoulders.] Go, fetch me those sneaking orcs that fare thus strangely! [Orcs march out of the tower. Cut]


Cut to shot of orcs marching across the bridge to the western bank and halting the intruders as they approach.]

Orc Lieutenant: Lord Sauron is mighty upset that you haven’t paid him a visit. He requests the pleasure of your company a while! [Chuckles at his own humour]

Finrod: Our business is with Angband. We don’t stop for no keeper of dogs.
Orc Lieutenant: [snarls] Dogs you say? I’d watch my tongue if I were you. I hear his dogs are a bit hungry. No one goes against the Great Sauron and his demands; like reporting to him each time you near the Tower — which is actually an order by Morgoth. Or have you forgotten?
Beren: [surly] We have no time for this nonsense.
Orc Captain: You have no choice. You ain’t going nowhere till his Lordship has had a word. Start moving, or I’m going to start chopping limbs and heads! [signals to his men who have by now surround the group, and the company of Finrod is marshalled across the bridge. Fade.]

* * *

[Fade in to the orcs entering the great hall of the fortress. Finrod cringes inwardly at the decrepitude and ruin of what had once been fair. Warm and colourful tapestries that had graced the walls hang in tatters, their images faded with a film of filth. Bloodstains are splattered across the flagstones, and the Elves wonder grimly whose dead comrade’s blood they are treading upon.

At the far end of the hall, Sauron is sitting upon a throne of polished, dark-green chalcedony that has nodules of red jasper distributed throughout its mass, looking like drops of blood... The Elves steel themselves, fearing what might come. Edrahil keeps close to Beren, and the nine companions keep behind them, each of them praying that the king’s enchantments hiding their true forms will hold under scrutiny. Finrod stands in the front, ready to confront Sauron. ]

Sauron: Ah... [stares at them for a long moment, doubt gnawing at him. His voice is silky smooth, almost gentle, and sends shivers of dread up their spines.] So you are the rogue company which failed to halt its progress when command to bring me news of all your deeds. Where have you been, and what have you seen?

Finrod: [in a raspy voice] We slew 30 Elves by the Falls of Ivrin. We threw their bodies in a dark pit where the ravens might find rich pickings.
Sauron: [smiles. Distastefully] Dead Elves, how pleasant… Some Noldor of that wretched Elf-king, I would guess? [more sharply] What are your names? Who is your captain?

Finrod: I am Dungalef, [indicates Beren] Nereb and ten foot-soldiers we are, and dark is our den under the mountains… Over the waste we march on an errand of need and haste to Angband, for Boldog, our captain awaits us there.

[The Dark Maiar appears to ponder Finrod’s reply and the Elves hold their collective breaths.]

Sauron: [shifts his weight upon the bloodstone throne, resting his left elbow on its arm and holding his chin in his hand.] Boldog, I heard, has lately set out from Angband to go warring on the borders where Thingol and his folk cringe and crawl beneath elm and oak in drear Doriath. I find it rather strange that ye who claim to be hurrying at Boldog’s command are unaware of his activities. [A casual flick of his wrist brings his wolves immediately to surround the group.]

Sauron: [cunningly] Did you make it as far as Doriath? Spies say that Lúthien daughter of Thingol wanders close to the borders. She would make a fine prize for Morgoth. [Beren chafes under the suggestion. Sauron notices immediately.] Has Nereb seen little Lúthien? She is fair is she not? Do you desire her? Could it be that you have traded dark for light?
Beren: [gruffly] Who is Sauron to hinder our work? We owe allegiance to one and one alone. Let us pass north!
Sauron: [placating gesture] Be stayed just a bit. I have yet one more bone to pick. Come, tell me, whom do you serve, Light or Mirk? Who is the maker of mightiest work? Who is the Lord of Arda, the master of the wide earth? [The Elves and Beren reel at the force of Sauron’s will lapping against their own] You are not what you appear, I deem. There is something… Elven about you, some glamour I cannot pierce.

Finrod: We are but servants of his Dark Majesty, humble orcs eager to do his bidding.
Sauron: [shakes his head.] I think not…

[He stands, his stance one of great imperiousness as a dark veil seems to cover him, making him even more menacing than before. He begins to chant a dark spell.]

Sauron: Veils of enchantment will I pierce,
open before my eyes what hidden be,
revealing treachery, uncovering betrayal.
Let this glamour be undone…

[Darkness, black and fell, surrounds them. The magic cloaking of Beren and the elves becomes hazy. They all find themselves reeling, even Finrod, who regained his senses sooner than the others. Suddenly he begins to counter Sauron’s magic, opposing the uncloaking with his own Song of Power: ]

Finrod: Let thy singing be stayed, all spells to resist.
Let secrets be kept with strength like a tower.
Let trust be unbroken, as we battle against power.
Changing and shifting of shape gives us leave
to escape to freedom, elude snares and broken traps,
the prison opens, the chain snaps.

[Sauron and Finrod are locked in combat; The wolves surrounding the disguised Elves earlier have slunk away into the shadows at the first note of their master’s Song, not wishing to be caught up in the maelstrom that is sure to follow. The orc guards have withdrawn to the doorway, barring any escape.

The room brightens to incandescence as the combatants unleash their spells. Beren and the Elves gather even closer, forming a tight circle, shielding their eyes and standing in silent awe as they witness a battle of Words between Sauron and their lord.

Backwards and forwards their Songs sway: sometimes Sauron has the upper hand and Finrod reels and founders for a moment before gathering himself and fighting with more power, bringing to fore all the might and magic of Eldamar into his words. From the deepest dungeon to the highest parapet their Songs are felt.

Softly in the chthonic gloom they hear the birds singing in Nargothrond and the sighing of the sea beyond. And further still unto the West they hear the waves brush the pearl-strewn shores of Eldamar. The Elves smile at the images Finrod’s magic evokes.

Then the gloom gathers again and the images grow darker, as Sauron sings of night falling on Valinor. Red blood flows beside the sea where the Noldor slew the Teleri, stealing their swan ships from their lamp lit havens. Even as Sauron sings the last note of betrayal and kinslaying, the wind rises to a wail and the wolves howl. There is a rumble of thunder that shakes the very foundations of the fortress and a vast roar nearly overwhelms the Elves and Beren cowering in the hall.
Then, suddenly, Finrod collapse… their disguises melt away and they stand revealed in their own fair shapes. The elves cower around Beren, hiding him, fearing what might happen should the Maia realize that the son of Barahir stands before him. The orc guards rush to hold them.]

Sauron: Well, well… [Gazing triumphantly upon them] Filthy Elves and a treacherous man? [grabs the unconscious Finrod’s hair and lifts his head to look closer into his face, which fortunately with the grime and remainder of the orc disguise is unrecognizable.] And indeed one of some value who expertly wields the magics of Elvenesse. [Drops Finrod’s head less than gently, and snaps at the others] What are your names and what is your purpose? [Silence.] Perhaps a little persuasion is needed… [flicks his hand again and a werewolf attacks and kills one of the elves. Beren tries to grab a sword from one of his captors but is held back.]

Sauron : Do you wish to speak now? [captives stiffen their resolve, grim faced] …No? Keep your silence, then. [to guards] Bind them and throw them into the deepest dungeon. [turns to the Elves and Beren again] Know that my friends and I will be visiting you daily until your tongues are loosened. [the company is manhandled roughly away, one of the brutish creatures not even bothering to truss the still senseless Finrod, but dragging him roughly, behind them, laughing.... Fade.]

* * * * * * *
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Post by Elentári »

[Fade back in to scene in Lúthien’s bedchamber, Menegroth… Lúthien lies sleeping. She hears Beren’s voice coming to her as if in her dreams. ]

Beren’s Voice: Tinúviel! …Tinúviel!

[Lúthien wakes, troubled and sits up weeping. It is just before dawn. She puts her robe on over her nightgown and slips softly down the passageway to her parents’ chambers., Melian is already awake, sitting in her outerchamber as if waiting for her daughter.. Lúthien hurries over to her and buries her tear-stained face in her mother’s lap. Melian strokes her dauhter’s hair soothingly.]

Lúthien: Mother, I have heard his voice crying in my dreams, and I am afraid he may be in mortal danger. What does your sight tell you? Is Beren safe?

Melian: Lúthien…my child, I fear he is indeed in bonds, kept in the dungeons of Gorthaur on the Isle of Werewolves. There he will stay beyond the aid of man or elf warrior.

Lúthien: Yet what of the help of an elf-maid? I swear to myself that I will do everything within my power to change the doom Beren has set upon himself, or at least to delay it.
Melian: [muses] Your noble father was once lost. Long ago through fate we met, and so divine blood entered the Elven line… Fate led Beren to our land and I could not hinder him. But neither may I aid him. What shall come? Even I cannot say. [Pours some golden liquid into a small goblet. Smiles enigmatically] Here is a cool drink. May it nourish and refresh you. Lúthien takes goblet and drinks the cordial.]

Lúthien: And where will my Fate lead me? You must have some foreknowledge…
Melian: [says nothing.]
Lúthien: Mother?
Melian: [sighs, touches her daughter’s cheek] Meldanya, all I know is that you must follow your heart… [fade]

* * *

[scene shifts to Lúthien, wrapped in an travelling cloak, quickly walking through the woods with determination. Lost in thought, she does not notice as Daeron steps from behind a tree, blocking her path.]

Daeron: Where does the fair Lúthien go in such haste?
Lúthien: My Beloved is in mortal danger and I must seek to rescue him if I can. Long have you been my friend, and as a friend I ask you to let me pass, or yet come with me on this perilous task.
Daeron: Once I felt that there was more to us than friendship. For an Age I have heard your voice fill these woods. My heart too it filled. [Lifting her chin with his hand.] Is it so hard to look at me with love?
Lúthien: You do have my love Daeron…you have been my loyal companion these many years. Only-
Daeron: --Then I ask you not to throw it away. Do not run to seek death in the footsteps of this man. Stay! For the good of all, stay! Give me a chance to show you happiness and leave mortal misery behind.
Lúthien: [shaking her head] If you truly care for me then you will understand that my heart belongs to Beren alone and my life is bound with his now. Therefore I must go.
Daeron: Not if I can prevent it...

[He takes Lúthien by the wrist and pulls her struggling back to Menegroth. The scene changes to show Lúthien kneeling before Thingol. Great anger is seen in his face.]

Thingol: Wretched child! Think you to cast away your life in a futile exchange for the hapless mortal?? Know you nothing of the wiles of Sauron the Deceiver?

Lúthien: [looks defiantly at her father] If it is Eru’s will, and my Fate, then you can do nothing to stop me, Father.
Thingol: [threatening] No? I can restrain you, daughter…

Lúthien: If you banish me into the darkness of your dungeons then I will fail in spirit and fade into the shadows even as Mandos beckons.
Thingol: [in fear and wonder] Yea, I will not deprive you of the lights of Aman, nor the Stars of Varda, but I cannot permit you to leave Doriath. My word is final.
Melian: [softly] My Lord, if I may make a suggestion? Not far from the gates of this city lies the greatest of all the trees in this realm…its broad branches would support a nest from which great height its smooth trunks would allow no escape. Though we will post guards below for your peace of mind…
Thingol: [considers, looks at wife gratefully] So be it…

[The camera pans upward through the roof of the hall to the exterior and to Hirilorn, the great three-trunked beech. There are guards at the base. There are no low branches, and near the top a tree house has been created as a prison for Lúthien. We see Lúthien staring westward out the tree house window to where her love is. Fade.]

* * * * * * *

[Cut to scene inside the dungeons of Tol-in-Gaurhoth. The 12 companions are chained and manacled around the walls, though it is so dark they can barely see further than the end of their noses.]

Orc leader: Enjoy your stay, my Lords… [mock bow] I believe that some of you will be enjoying our Master’s hospitality longer than others.

Orc 2: [snickering] We shall see just how much wisdom you Elves have when your friends pay the price of your silence, one by one – or should I say, bit by bit? [the orcs leave, laughing and jeering amongst themselves.

The prisoners’ eyes slowly grow accustomed to the darkness, and eventually they can make out the shapes of their fellow prisoners. Because of his hair’s golden lustre, Finrod is more clearly visible than Beren is, and his face looks taut, not only with the agony caused by cutting bonds and cruel chains..]

Finrod: [morosely] This was once a beautiful place, before the Enemy overran it. Tol Sirion we named it: I built this tower. I ordered these pits delved. Little did I realize one day I would sit within them. The irony of this is not lost on me. I recognise the very stones, even now when they are darkened and foul; and the chains which twist about my arms are set into walls which I myself fashioned. It is a far deeper wound when the weapon is of one's own making.

[Camera focuses on each of the Elves as it pans the dungeon, and we hear Sauron’s voice probing each of their minds in turn:]

Sauron: [voiceover] Tell me who your lord and his mortal companion are, else he will be tortured and horribly violated…Give me their names and their errand and I will set them free.

Elf 1: [earnestly] Do not worry, Lord. Not one of us will break the silence nor turn traitor to our cause despite the horrible images with which Gorthaur rapes our minds.
Elf 2: [anguished] It is not death I dread most, but the urge to give in. A part of me yearns to believe this master of lies, but I will not betray you, Lord!
Edrahil: His promise of freedom is false and empty. Gorthaur will do no such thing. If I remain steadfast and silent, he may torture our King to death in the end, but if he learns the truth, he will turn him into a prize for Morgoth to gloat over. The fate of Maedhros will await my lord, or worse - and none will rescue him, for the Enemy's strength has greatly increased.

[suddenly Sauron’s voice is heard as a malevolent whisper, magnified by the echoing dungeon.]

Sauron: [voiceover] For those who remain obdurate, my wolves are hungry. You shall be slain one by one until you either tell all you know, or there is but one left alive. That one will be tortured until he reveals everything.

[A dark and hopeless silence fills the dungeon. Breaking the silence is the sound of padded footfalls approaching. The great iron door swings open and a dark shape heads toward the nearest Elf. Without warning he strikes at the nearest Elf, ripping a great gash in his neck with his teeth. The Elf barely has time to make a sound – his cry is cut off as the life-blood pours from him. In the darkness the others can hear the blood trickling onto the floor and the sounds of the wolf tearing at flesh. Beren closes his eyes as tears roll down his cheeks. [cut]

* * *

[Scene opens again on the tree house in Hirilorn, late afternoon. Melian ascends to her daughter via a series of ladders. She hands Lúthien a covered basket.]

Melian: I worry for your boredom in this lofty cell. I have brought some gifts for you that may make your time better spent.
Lúthien: [clutches at her mother] Tell me truly, is there still hope for Beren?
Melian: I foresee that, somehow, Beren will succeed, and you will help him, for you are both bound up in something greater than even Thingol knows. Even I do not know fully what is intended for you, though I can see that it will have great consequences for the future Ages of Middle-Earth.
Lúthien: You cannot convince Ada?
Melian: [sadly] Even now he will not listen. He is too bound up in pride and anger and that will shape the future of Doriath from here down to its end…

[She embraces her daughter and descends the ladders again. Lúthien opens the basket and discovers a flask of her mother’s miruvor cordial, a package of lembas, some shears and a small spinning wheel. She opens the flask. Taking a drink she begins to sing, faintly at first but then finding her voice, she is moved to stand and sing more clearly. Strangely, her shadowy hair has lengthened. Lúthien continues singing, unnoticed by the guarding elves that are under the spell of her song. Once her hair reaches the ground she uses the shears to cut it, and fills the basket with the silken strands Lúthien ’s singing continues over clips of her making yarn from her hair with the spinning wheel.

Then, she is shown hanging yarn from beams in the ceiling in a makeshift loom, creating an intricate cloak. The cloak is dark and shadowy and seems to absorb the light from whatever it touches. Her singing is mournful, and this is paralleled in a scene showing Beren and his companions cruelly chained. A shadow of a wolf passes across Beren’s face. He grimaces over the sounds of one of his companions being devoured. The singing and the scene fade into nothingness.

It is now deep in the third night of her labours. Next, she makes a thin but strong rope from the fibres of her hair that are left from weaving the cloak Lúthien puts on her dark cloak, and looks little more than a reflection of a starlit pond. Her outline is barely seen aside from her exposed head. She lowers her rope down the tree. One of the elf guards notices. Lúthien begins singing another song much more like a lullaby. The guards’ eyes become glazed as they stare blankly forward. Lúthien continues to lower the rope. She descends the rope lithely and easily with a sound like a passing breeze. Upon reaching the bottom she puts up her hood. Only a shimmer of her outline can be seen. Her singing stops but the elves remain still. No sound can be heard as she runs off into the woods. Fade.]

* * * * * * *

[Camera cut to Angband Main Hall. Orcs mill about taking care of chores, carefully avoiding a young Carcharoth. Morgoth is playing with the Werewolf, tossing a strip of leather and then wrestling Carcharoth once he has retrieved it. Carcharoth growls and wags his tail, much as a dog will when playing a similar game. Camera shift left as Easterling enters quickly. Easterling halts and bows well out of range of the wrestling Carcharoth. Camera cut to Morgoth who looks up, perturbed.]

Morgoth: This must be important if you dare interrupt my relaxation. Or are you tired of your life? [gets up, favouring his sore leg. Mutters.] May that wretched Elf king find all the comfort I received in dear Námo’s care! I hope his limbs rot off for the pain he caused me!
Easterling: I bear news, from our spies, my lord.
Morgoth: [lifts Carcharoth off the ground as the wolf will not release the leather strip] Well?
Easterling: The birds that are loyal to Your Lordship keep close watch on the place where your eyes cannot pierce.
Morgoth: Some day I shall put that scheming Maia-whore in her place! [rubs Carcharoth’s ears] What a day that will be, my fine fellow. [Carcharoth growls and nips Morgoth’s sleeve. Morgoth throws the strap again.]
Easterling: My lord, the birds tell us that the princess Lúthien, daughter of Thingol, has left the safety of her own land. She is even now travelling toward Tol-in-Gaurhoth, alone and on foot.

[Camera cut to Morgoth as Easterling speaks. Morgoth listens intently, ignoring Carcharoth. Carcharoth whines, then takes the strap and settles down near a brazier, chewing the leather. ]

Morgoth: She travels alone, you say? [Easterling nods] Fortune indeed smiles upon me now. When she is in my power, her mother will willingly come to heel. Her father will serve me as I preside over all he now holds. And best of all, Lúthien will be a fair addition to my arm and my bed. [turns to Easterling] I have a message for Captain Boldog. Get one of our birds ready. [Easterling bows and exits left]

[Morgoth limps over to a table and opens a box, pulling out a quill and a piece of parchment. He quickly writes a note, then removes a small glass vial stoppered with a cork. He breathes into the vial, and we see the vial turn dark. Morgoth stoppers the vial and slips both it and the message into a copper tube fixed with leather thongs. An Orc enters left, carrying a large raven. Morgoth hands Orc the message. Orc exits left, quickly. Camera focus on Morgoth as he smiles and smoothes his hair.]

Morgoth: [to Carcharoth] She will be mine! The fairest of all the Eldar, and she will be my bride. And, in time, she will bear me sons to echo my own glory. With my sons beside me I shall drive these weaklings that oppose me into the sea! Yes! And more! With the sons she will give me I shall seize not only the lands of Arda, rightfully mine, but Valinor also. Manwë, Ulmo, Eru himself will bow before me and my offspring! [Camera focus on Morgoth, smiling in anticipation] Bring me my bride without delay! [Camera fade to black, cut.]

* * * * * * *
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Post by Elentári »

[Cut to scene of Shadowy Lúthien approaching the Crossing of Teiglin, a little farther than halfway to Sauron’s Isle. It is mid-afternoon of the following day. As she approaches the Teiglin River, walking through the sparse woods of the Forest of Brethil, she comes across a werewolf hunting. The camera pans upwards from his feet to his hideous head. Lúthien holds hear breath and stands stock still, hoping the werewolf will not notice her. Hearing a nearby noise, the werewolf stops and sniffs the air. He readies himself to leap but is foiled by an attack from a giant hound, who catches the wolf by the throat. The wolf struggles while the hound holds fast. A foul spirit can be seen leaving as the body goes limp.

Celegorm and Curufin step through the brush armed with hunting bows. Celegorm looks proudly at Huan, takes the wolf body from Huan’s mouth and then throws it down in disgust. Huan’s ears perk up, and his sharp eyes see another shape swiftly moving through the woods.]

Celegorm: Do you see another vile beast, Huan? Corner it, that I may slay it myself.
[Huan gives chase. Lúthien turns her head, her face peeking from the hood. She runs very swiftly but is no match for the noble dog. Feeling at last cornered she climbs a tree. Huan sniffs at the bottom of the tree and becomes calmed. A curious smile can be seen on his canine face as he looks upwards. Celegorm and Curufin have mounted their horses and riden to Lúthien’s trapped position.]

Celegorm: No wolf do we have here, boy. Is this a phantom that cowers in the branches? Shall I put an arrow through it to see if it bleeds? [Huan growls at his master warning him not to shoot.]
Curufin: This muddleheaded dog is trying to tell you something. [Lúthien and Huan continue gazing upon each other. Lúthien, feeling no fear, jumps down from the tree, landing as easily as a bird. Walking over to Huan Lúthien begins scratching him behind his ears and patting him on his big head, and speaking to him softly so only he could hear. Huan is loving every second.]

Celegorm: [laughing] Look at that silly hound of mine…Huan, what vexes you?
[Huan, with Lúthien following, walks slowly to them, sits down and looks up, seemingly into thin air. He then looks at the brothers, gives a short bark and looks up again.]
Curufin: Is somebody there? Show yourself!
Lúthien: Tell me first if you are friend or foe of Morgoth, Dark Lord of Middle-earth.
Curufin: We are foes.
Celegorm: We are Princes of the Noldor.

[Lúthien removes her cloak and becomes visible. The brothers’ faces express disbelief of her beauty.]
Lúthien: Then it is well met. [continues to fondle Huan’s ears, making soothing noises. Celegorm stares in enchantment. Curufin elbows him in the side. He shakes his head and bows.]
Celegorm: Good Huan. You have brought us a dark Elven maid. This is a welcome addition to our hunt. [watches Lúthien with a growing desire, jealous of the attention she is paying Huan] I should warn you: whisper not into that dog’s ear. He is rumored to have the power of speech and could tell your secrets to all, though I have not heard more than a growl from him. [Huan looks at his master and a “Humph” can be heard coming from his mouth.]

Lúthien: I am Lúthien daughter of King Thingol and Queen Melian of Doriath.
Curufin: [dismounting] We are Lords of Nargothrond, and we patrol these woods. This is my brother Celegorm. I am Curufin. [takes her hand, kisses it.] The hound whom you pet is Huan the Great, given to my brother by Oromë in the Blessed Realm.
Celegorm: We are hunting the wolves of Gorthaur. He has sent many into the Kingdom of Nargothrond to spy out the lands. We slew ten today. We now rest before returning to the Caverns of Narog. [he too dismounts, slding from the saddle athletically, trying to impress Lúthien.]

Lúthien: Then you know of King Felagund and the group he travelled with to the north. There is a Man named Beren with him and ten other Elves of Nargothrond.
Celegorm: [lying quickly] No, for we have been staying at Amon Rûdh, leaving from there many days ago. Why, are there troubles? [Huan whines in confusion at his master’s lie.]

Lúthien: Truly, the group has been captured by Sauron Gorthaur, and they are in a dungeon of Tol-in-Gaurhoth. Please, can you help me; for I am on my way there to aid them.
Celegorm: You, alone?
Lúthien: I am safer than you think and possess powers greater than you can know.
Curufin: [Laughing.] Great Powers? You know not your perils and your good fortune. Friends you have found in the wild woods. We shall bring you safely to our kingdom for a rest.
Lúthien: Time bites at my heels, and rest I cannot take. If you cannot aid me then you must let me pass..
Curufin: The woods are much too dangerous, full of wolves and orcs. We cannot allow such a fair thing pass from memory into the jaws of one of Sauron’s demons.

Celegorm: My Lady, we feel it would not be wise for just the three of us to rush in to meet Sauron and his servants on his island. Therefore, we counsel that you come with us to the Caverns of Narog, where we can gather troops and weapons to assist us.
Lúthien: [unsure] I suppose that would be best. How long do you think it will take, for they do not have much time?
Curufin: [reassuringly] Not long at all. Trust me. [Celegorm and Curufin smile. Cut.]

* * * * * * *

[Cut back to dungeons of Tolin-Gaurhoth: Pan over remains of 5 dead Elves. After a time the glowing eyes of Sauron’s werewolf appears, and another of the companions is eaten alive. The rest can only listen to the blood-curdling screams. They also scream in horror hearing biting sounds, snarling and the ripping of his flesh. Not one speaks and betrays them, and each time the screams begin Beren sinks further into despair. ]

* * * * * * *

[Cut to scene in Nargothrond. Lúthien looks through the ornate grille on a locked door, and then bows her head. Huan gives a small whine, looking from Lúthien to the brothers in confusion. Curufin yawns as he hands Celegorm Lúthien’s cloak; Celegorm grins.]

Celegorm: Thank you, my brother, for your assistance. I want this Elven-maid. Can you imagine the power I would gain if I was to marry Thingol’s daughter, the most beautiful in all the lands; a daughter of a Maia? People would pay just to enter my kingdom. I would become one of the mightiest Princes of the Noldor; and you with me, little brother.

Curufin: And how do you suppose you are going to make all this happen?
Celegorm: With your help, of course. We shall keep her imprisoned here, letting Finrod and Beren perish. Also, I will send messengers to Thingol with forceful words for her hand to be placed in mine in marriage; and if necessary, I will send all our brothers and their armies to make war against him.

Curufin: [sceptically] It all sounds good, but are you sure about this? Methinks Lúthien is not easily wedded against her will.
Celegorm: We shall see… Fetch two of our men to guard her, if you would. [Curufin departs left. Celegorm puts his face close to the grille, leers at Lúthien] Do not look so sad, my Princess, You shall grow to love me. I did not lie to you when I told you I was a Noldorian Prince. We are both royalty; we have much in common.
Lúthien: [in disgust] We are nothing alike…Why are you doing this to me?
Celegorm: [regretfully] I would like to impress you with some long, admirable speech, but sadly it is nothing more than power. You see, I know all about the Quest of the Silmaril: Beren’s test, is it not, to see if he is worthy in Thingol’s eyes? The fool came here seeking Finrod’s aid through some meaningless oath. The Oath of Fëanor, however, is more powerful.
Lúthien: [scathingly] You mean more hateful!

Celegorm: If you say so…We put so much fear in his people that only ten others went with the two fools. Now, after you have told us about their misfortune, I see how simple it will be to rise in power, straight to the top. [laughs mockingly] I could not have planned it better myself. Sauron will take care of Finrod, allowing us to rule this kingdom the way we desire, and he will also take care of your brave Beren, a very nice bonus. You see, my Princess, after I force your father to give me your hand in marriage, my power will increase tenfold.

Lúthien: [in horrified amazement] My father will never agree to such nonsense.
Celegorm: Oh, your father will agree. If not, he will have all the sons of Fëanor and their kingdoms lay his land in ruin! [sees the dismay on Lúthien’s face] I bid you a pleasant night, my Love… [ turns as footsteps are heard behind him. Curufin has returned with two guards, and Celebrimbor is trailing behind, having been looking for his father]

Celebrimbor: [looks puzzled seeing Lúthien locked up] What is happening, Ada? Why is the pretty lady locked in this room like a common prisoner?
Curufin: Because she refuses to do as she is told, Telpë.
Celebrimbor: [thinks for a moment] You mean, like not tidying up her toys, or not going to bed when she is told?
Curufin: No, no…this is for her own safety. She wants to put her life in danger instead of marrying your uncle Celegorm. We are trying to make her see reason, that is all.

Celegorm: I am merely trying to win the lady round: sometimes you have to do some things that may not appear right, if you want something bad enough.
Celebrimbor: That does not seem right. The lady is crying…I do not like this. Release her before something terrible happens, Ada. [stomps away.]

Curufin: [calls after him] Telpë! [Celebrimbor ignores him. Curufin turns back to his brother] I do not know what to do about him. I try to teach him everything I know,
Celegorm: Let him go, It is hard to believe he is your child - and my nephew…
Lúthien: It is not often a son is wiser than the father, especially so young. [Curufin ignores her, slamming the grille shut.]
Celegorm: [instructs the guards] Watch her. Allow only Curufin or I to speak with her. [The guards nod. Cut.]

* * *

[Camera open on Curufin’s chambers. Curufin pours himself a cup of wine. Giemma paces, agitated.]
Giemma: [angry] How long do you mean to keep the princess a prisoner, husband?
Curufin: [angry and resolved] As long as it takes to make her see reason.
Giemma: See reason? I wonder that you can even speak of such a thing, since you have lost your own! Ever since your worthless brother devised this scheme you have –
Curufin: Will you not silence yourself!
Giemma: I will not! Do not ask me to stand idle while the man I love is overtaken by some misguided ambition!

[Camera shift to doorway. Celebrimbor opens door enough to see what is happening, but does not enter. He watches his parents argue, obviously distressed.]

Giemma: [breathless] That oath drives everything you do now. I begin to think you forget that Telpë and I exist! [pause] Or is it that you have found someone else to fill your needs? Is that why you keep the lady locked away?
Curufin: Silence! [backhands Giemma. She falls.]

[Camera shift to Celebrimbor, horrified. Celebrimbor eases door closed and backs down corridor. Camera follows. Huan is by his side as he turns and runs outside, wiping tears from his cheeks as he runs. At last he drops to his knees, wraps his arms around Huan’s neck, and sobs into the hound’s thick coat. After a moment his crying quiets to shaking shoulders. He lifts his head and Huan licks his face, whining.]

* * *

[Cut to Lúthien’s chamber, it is early evening. The room is furnished with a comfortable bed, chair, table, and hangings that show bright outdoor scenes. Lúthien paces restlessly, clutching her hands, obviously worried. Her face is streaked with tears. Camera shift to Corridor, Celebrimbor enters left with Huan. He moves quietly, as if he is sneaking until he passes a shadowed door at the far end of the Corridor. . He pauses to check, but the guards are in a small side chamber throwing dice and talking about their game. Celebrimbor continues, moving carefully, until he reaches the grille. Huan paws at the door, softly whining.. Lúthien comes to the grille as Huan jumps up on his hind legs…]

Lúthien: [to Huan] I missed you, too!.
Huan: [whines, licks Lúthien’s hand through the grille. She fondles his ears.]

Celebrimbor: [smirks] The guards they left are as stupid as Orcs. Father and Uncle Celegorm do not trust them to watch you. They sent Huan to guard you also. Why must you be imprisoned like a thief?
Lúthien: Because I would steal myself from those who wish to control my destiny.
Celebrimbor: I wish I could do that. Father and Mother think they can tell me what to do every minute of the day. They cannot see that I am my own man. I will be in terrible trouble for coming down here, since I should now be working on my studies. I do not care. I wanted to run with Huan this afternoon, and feel the sun on my face.

Lúthien: I want to feel the sun on my face too. I miss the stars, and the wind whispering to the streams as they pass through our forest. And I miss Beren, more than anything else I miss him.
Celebrimbor: Ada says you must be kept here until Beren is dead. Is Beren a servant of Morgoth?
Lúthien: [offended] Of course not! He is a true and loyal heart, and he risked much to battle the Enemy in Doriath.
Celebrimbor: And you would help him if you could?
Lúthien: I would give my life to save him. [Huan whines again and pushes against Celebrimbor. Celebrimbor glances down the corridor, draws back quickly.]

Celebrimbor: I hear footsteps. I had better go before I get caught. [camera shift through the grille, focus on Lúthien.] You are very pretty, my lady. I wish I could help you.
Lúthien: [soft laugh] So are you, young lord. Thank you for talking with me.
Celebrimbor: [rummages through his tunic]
I want to give you something. [puts a silver comb set with small clear gemstones in Lúthien’s hand. The comb is shaped like a large feather, curved so it matches the shape of Lúthien’s skull. The tines are long and slender, but strong.] Mother says a knight should offer a token when he swears his fealty to a lady.
Lúthien: [Fingers her short locks and smothers a smile] Thank you, my brave champion…

[Lúthien takes the comb. Camera fade into dream screen. Lúthien sees Celebrimbor, fully grown, breaking a mould to reveal a clear gemstone. He sets the clear stone next to a red stone and a blue stone on a workbench cluttered with the remains of two broken moulds. Fade to mist, Fade in as Celebrimbor immerses the red gem in a roaring fire. Fade to mist. Fade in on Galadriel, Círdan, and Gil-galad wearing the Three Rings. Light from the Rings drives back the encroaching darkness. Fade to mist, Focus on grille in present.]

Lúthien: [blinks, realizes what she has seen. Becomes serious.] I humbly accept your fealty, noble lord. I am honoured that you should wish to aid me. [Celegorm and Curufin are heard talking at the far end of the corridor.]

Celebrimbor: I must go. I will be back, Lady. I swear it on the fires that light the heavens.
[Celebrimbor exits right. Huan looks after him, whines, then turns as Celegorm and Curufin enter left.]
Celegorm: [pats Huan] You have kept our prisoner well, my friend. Go on and stretch your legs.
[Huan exits left, barking happily. Camera follow Celegorm and Curufin into Cell, fade.]

* * * * * * *
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes
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Post by Elentári »

[Fade in again on dungeon, later… Only 3 remain; Finrod, Edrahil and Beren are the last survivors in the dungeon. There are remains scattered across the room. Flies cover all, including the living. There is only darkness, the smell of death, and the ragged sound of Beren’s breath as he dozes fitfully. Finrod and Edrahil watch him.]

Edrahil: He is afraid. I do not blame him. We have no warning when the wolf will come, only the knowledge that eventually it will come. I am not sure which fate will be worse - - to die at the hands of the beast, or to be the last one left alone in this darkness.
Finrod: [sadly] I should offer words of comfort to Beren. I should say something to ease his burden. But I have not the words. My song is finished. [looks away, sighs deeply]

Edrahil: [shifts uncomfortably, trying to ease his aching muscles.] I had hoped to die in battle, an honorable death! Not like this: I always considered myself strong, but in the dark, listening as one after another die with screams of agony ringing off the stone… [shakes his head to try and clear the memory] May Nienna have pity on their souls!

Finrod: I wish Amarië were with me. She would know the right words to say at a time such as this. And I wonder why I ever left her…Perhaps that was my first mistake. The worst. For none of the other griefs that have befallen me would have come about had I stayed with her. And I fault myself for not loving her enough to stay…Yet I cling to the hope that she still waits for me.

Edrahil: [bluntly] I am afraid that hope flees from these stones. The wolf shall come next for me. I have no fear, only one simple regret: I wish that I were suffering this alone, and that you were still King in Nargothrond.

Finrod: [looks at Edrahil with renewed compassion] My dear and loyal friend… would that I could have spared you this terrible fate! But I pitched my will against Sauron’s: he will not simply dispatch me. I know I will be the last, tortured in the hopes of gaining information. Bitter is the taste of failure with no chance for redemption. [looks again at Beren] My thought is to try and save this man and in doing so give him some measure of the happiness that has eluded me. By the grace of Eru, let me save him. Let me do some measure of good before I await my sentence in the halls of Mandos.

[The click of claws on stone announces the approach of the werewolf. The slavering beast enters the dungeon, his luminous eyes glitter with conscious cunning. Edrahil closes his eyes, his lips moving silently, reciting a paen to Varda. Camera cuts to werewolf tensing, readying itself to leap on its intended victim. The wolf bares its teeth and leaps towards the camera. Cut.]

* * * * * * *

[Cut to Lúthien’s chamber, night time. Lúthien lies on her bed, staring at the wall. Her room is lit by one candle; Huan walks toward Lúthien’s door. He gives a little whine, and Lúthien comes to the door to see him. The guards, sitting in the adjacent anteroom, glance up and watch Huan also.]

Guard 1: Should we stop him?
Guard 2: [scratches head] I cannot see that it would hurt. After all, it is not as if he can speak! [guards laugh. Huan sits with his tongue hanging out, listening to Lúthien: ]

Lúthien: Do not look so sad! I do not blame you. I came here freely enough. I did not know what else to do. If I cannot rescue Beren and the others soon, they shall surely perish; for none know of their imprisonment. [Huan makes noise of encouragement for her to continue.] They are good and valiant people. You know the kindness of Felagund from being in his kingdom; and none can speak against Beren. He has had a very hard life, but he remains kind and gentle with a pure heart. He is a friend to all birds and beasts not in the service of Morgoth. I know you would befriend him if the two of you should ever meet.
[Huan raises a back leg and scratches behind his ear. Inclines his head as though considering something and leaves as Lúthien watches. Camera pans guards playing a game of Merrels. Huan returns after a short while, carrying her robe. He takes it to a guard sitting in his chair and cocks his head towards Lúthien.]

Guard 1: [yawns] Perhaps he thinks she is cold? [opens grille and passes it to Lúthien. She puts it on as the Guard returns to his chair. Huan walks slowly away. The light goes out in her room.]

Lúthien: Oh, Guard, I fear a breeze must have entered and extinguished my candle when you opened the grille. Would you kindly relight it for me, if it is not too much trouble?

[The guard takes one of the three candles from above the door and then opens it. He walks into her room and lights the candle. He then realizes she is not there. He runs outside and alerts the other guard.]
Guard 1: Did she go by you?
Guard 2: No…what the--
Guard 1: She is gone! [they both go into the room but there is no sign of her. They look at Huan walking calmly away down the corridor without looking back. The two guards dumbly look at each other. Cut.]

* * *

[Cut to scene, minutes later, outside a secret exit from Nargothrond. It is the dark hours before Dawn., and a mist hangs low. Huan and shadowy Lúthien walk behind a large tree. Lúthien removes the hood of her cloak]

Lúthien: [Puts her arms around the great hound’s neck and pets him] I cannot thank you enough, brave Hound of Valinor.
Huan: Save your thanks, beloved Lady , for we do not have much time. You must flee.
Lúthien: [in amazement] You can speak!
Huan: It is the decree of the Valar that I may speak thrice only in Middle-earth before my death.
Lúthien: How many times have you spoken thus far?
Huan: This is my first, fair princess.
Lúthien: Then I am sorry that I am the reason for using one of your privileges.

Huan: Do not be. This is my Fate… I read your heart, and knew that I had to help. I have always known my master’s heart is not pure, but I never thought it was this black, or I would not have led you to him. Since they have captured and imprisoned you, it seems a shadow has darkened the land and evil has come to Nargothrond.
Lúthien: The fault was mine, for trusting them. Celegorm and Curufin have allowed their accursed oath to rule their hearts and minds.
Huan: Imprisoning you is just one of many deceitful deeds in a long list that we have no time to discuss. We now have a long journey ahead of us. Therefore, my Lady, I counsel that I become your steed and you shall ride me as such.
Lúthien: Noble friend, I cannot ask you to do that.
Huan: It is my request, not yours. This is how it must be. It is the only way we may have a chance to save Beren and King Finrod and their companions.

Lúthien: I know not what to say, except: you have found a friend beyond our deaths.
Huan: Lady, all that live shall serve you men, elves and beasts. Arise. Huan will
bear you. [She straddles Huan’s back, scratches him behind the ears, and then leans forward to hug him around his neck. Huan smiles.]

Huan: I am much honoured. Now we must make haste. Hold fast, and I shall do my best to keep you from falling. We should be there by dawn. [Huan takes off into the mist, and in no time he is at a great pace. ]

* * * * * * *

[Fade back in on cell sometime later…Camera focus on Edrahil’s lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, dried blood smeared across his face; camera pulls back to show his hair matted with blood, his ear ripped off, a gouge out of his neck where the jugular was severed. Cut to Finrod and Beren.]

Finrod: [desolately] Edrahil's death was the cruellest, yet even in his torment he died silently. I would weep if I were not still guarding my mind from Sauron, who seeks ever to read our purpose.
Beren: [Haltingly] I will bargain myself to Sauron to free you from an evil death. Sauron has long sought me. T’would be little loss if I were dead. I free you from your oath. You have endured more than ever was earned…

Finrod: Do not end your life as a fool by trusting in the lies of Morgoth’s servant. What better chance would we have if our true nature were known? [looks distant] I remember those who came before you…your forefathers have walked alongside me over a hundred and fifty years. I watched the summers of their youth pass into silvered winters, and mourned when death took them. They gifted me with their trust first of all, then loyalty and friendship without price. [smiles] Your voice is very like to Bëor's…

Beren: [looks up in sudden wonder. His lips twist in a self-mocking smile.] But unlike Bëor I shall not die of old age, having lived loyally and fought valiantly for many years. Nor am I like my father, who was at least of some use to you. Instead I have asked you for help on a fool's mission. [hangs his head]
Finrod: Do not blame yourself… [sighs, resting his weight on the chains awhile, even though they cut into his flesh.] As your father snatched me from ruin, so it must be that the debt is repaid. Hate and greed and the oath of Fëanor have driven us alone to this place, yet your love for Lúthien has also brought us here.

Beren: [softly] Is it so wrong to love her? [an expression of anguish on his face as he thinks of his Lúthien.]
Finrod: ‘Tis not wrong to love her. Folly perhaps. But not wrong.
Beren: I would not have chosen her had my heart given me any choice in the matter.
Finrod: [wearily] Love is something even the wisdom of the Eldar can not explain.
Beren: She is worth more than any jewel and I would gladly give my life for her. [sighs] But even should I win her, a moment is all I will have in her eyes even if I should live to old age.
Finrod: [nods] Such is the tragedy of love between elves and mortals.
Beren: [dejectedly] Foolish I am to doom her to one small moment of happiness amid all of eternity.
Finrod: [poignantly] It would be far worse still to have not even a moment of happiness but a lifetime of regret…

[Suddenly they hear a devil's laugh ringing within the pit. Cut to Sauron in the Great Hall, looking pleased with himself.]
Sauron: Truly, it would be little loss if the outlaw mortal were dead. Yet the Noldorin lord may endure many a thing that no Man could suffer… [to werewolf sitting at his left side] Kill the Man first: we shall keep the Elf awhile, and he shall yield up the secret of their errand...Morgoth will reward me handsomely for such a prize. [werewolf rises and pads off unhurriedly.]

* * *

[Cut back to dungeon. There is the sound of rusty iron scraping against stone, the drip of water into massive mechanical wheels. Once again they hear the foul breath of the werewolf, and the padding of its feet in the wet filth. It blinks slowly in the darkness, and we can see the hunger in its eyes.]

Beren: [croaks barely a whisper as fear takes hold] Ai! It comes…but for which of us?!?! [struggles with his chains, prepared to fight despite the overwhelming fatigue that threatens to consume him.]

Finrod: Be calm, my oath-brother…for death is, and death must be. A part of my mind is in pain, for I have long foreseen in my dreams an irredeemable loss. But my mind also sees Lúthien drawing ever closer in search of her Beren, and my heart sees Amarië whom I left far behind in Valinor... [he tenses, taking the strain of his chains again] No, she is not behind, but standing before me, with her hands outstretched – Amarië! [gathers all his strength and pulls on the chains, ignoring the pain as they gouge his skin; the walls tremble with the strain. Suddenly, incredibly he is free and the werewolf, who has been advancing on Beren, turns to Finrod. For a flickering moment there is fear within his eyes, then the wolf utters an enraged roar, and leaps at the free Elf.

Beren cries out in horror as Finrod catches the wolf in mid leap, slamming it with a strength which he did not know the elf possessed, into the wall of the cell.…Beren's cries seem all around him yet far away.]

Finrod: [panting] Even now I an afraid. But I will not let my oath go unfulfilled! You will live, and I will meet my end fighting!

[he wrestles with the werewolf, falling in tight embrace. Finrod’s hands are around the wolf’s neck while the wolf’s claws dig deep into the king. The ensuing fight is hard to see in the gloom, but Finrod slays the werewolf with his hands and teeth; Finally, the wolf gives up its last breath and falls to the side, emitting a foul vapour. Finrod collapses, mortally wounded. His clothes are torn to shreds, and whatever light there is, lends a shimmer to those parts of his body that are not caked with blood. In the darkness, stretching his bonds to their limit, Beren manoeuvres to take Finrod’s hands in his own. Finrod feels for the ring on Beren’s finger…]

Beren: You wish it back? You have more than fulfilled your oath.
Finrod: [tracing the curving serpents.] No. [tries to laugh but it is a bubbling sound] I would not say that allowing you to be ensnared by Sauron was fulfilling my oath.
Beren: [shakes head] You have done all you could. I do not ask for more…I knew the risk, and the attempt was worth it.
Finrod: [shudders] My limbs are cold…It may be that we shall not meet a second time in death or life... for the fates of our kindreds are apart. [gasps his last] Forget despair, Beren...Lúthien is coming, even as I leave! [dies]
Beren: [gently closes Finrod’s eyes] Go now in peace and redemption: you have earned your long rest in the timeless halls beyond the Western seas. [he mourns for his valiant friend, crying tears of frustration and desperation. After a while he begins to sing a song about the sickle of the Valar, that Varda hung in the sky to signify the fall of Morgoth. Fade.]

End of Episode
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes
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