Aralas Oneshots

What he didn't say

Hi, I tricked you again. Another not Aralas one-shot! But I don't know where else to publish it, so just let me, ok? Anyways, this one is about Túrin and Beleg Strongbow, for all of you who have read The Silmarillion or The Children of Húrin. When I read it, I immediately knew these two couldn't not be in love with each other, so here's what I believe really happened. (Just for the record, I totally love the last scene, in the book too, it is just so beautiful and sad!)

He had been hunting through the forest for almost two weeks on his way to the west, more precisely to Amon Rûdh, where hopefully he would find Túrin. It had not been a hard decision to return back to him from Dimbar. As soon as he had found his friend a few months ago, and the latter hadn't been willing to come with him to the defence of the borders of Doriath, he had made his decision.

His shoes were muddy and his clothes drenched from the rain, that came with Winter from the North. To eat he hadn't had much, other than left-over berries from the summer, roots and here and there a rabbit or small bird. But despite the fact that his stomach was empty the most time of the days, he hadn't touched the gift of Melian the Queen yet. It was lembas, the waybread of the elf, and he had received it from her for his quest to search for Túrin. So implicitly the queen had given the lembas to Túrin, a man whom she too did love dearly, and the second only that had ever gotten to taste this bread. The first one had been Beren Erchamion. But his name wasn't gladly mentioned in the Thousand glittering caves of Menegroth.

Beleg stumbled over a root and out on a glade in the forest, where a small pool of water had frozen to ice. For a brief second, he watched the sunrays break in the frozen water into a million colours of the sky, but then he turned away and looked westwards. And there it was: Amon Rûdh, the House of Ransom, or Bar-en-Danwedh, as Mîm liked to call it. Mîm was the dwarf that granted Túrin and his outlaw-band a shelter.

It took him only a couple of hours to reach the hill in the middle of the guarded plain, and he was unseen too. The dwarfs were no great guards, and if they'd ever be assailed by elves, they'd be destroyed in an instant. He climbed up the secret path he knew from his last visit, and reaching the platform where the entrance to the caves was, he spotted some of the outlaws bending over a small fire and warming their hands.

"Be greeted, men of Amon Rûdh!", I said to them while bowing.

In a haste, all of them turned around to face me. They had obviously not been prepared for anyone on the snowy hilltop except themselves and were afraid it was an intruder. But soon enough they recognized him and welcomed him into their circle around the fire.

"Where've you left Túrin?", he asked only moments later, not being able to hold back the anticipation of seeing his friend again.

"He'll be around shortly, just catching some coneys for dinner", was the answer.

And they were right, about half an hour later, when Beleg was comfortably chatting with Angrod, Túrin and two companions entered the platform. When the latter spotted Beleg in the middle of his outlaw band, he froze in his spot, dropping everything he had in hands.

"You came", he whispered.

Beleg stood up with a huge smile on his face.

"I would never leave you", answered he. Then he approached Túrin and put his hands on his shoulders as a welcoming gesture. "It is good to see you again, Túrin, beloved!"

Túrin still not moving let himself be hugged tightly, and that made the blood curse in his veins again and he threw his hands around the elf. The outlaws in the meantime started baking the two coneys Túrin's band had caught.

"Beleg!", Túrin cried. "How do you always show up just when I need you?"

The rest of the evening they chatted about all that had happened, and not only one time did they tell the other, how much they had missed him. It was great to be together again.

---

The orcs came at night when nobody was expecting them. Even Beleg had been surprised. He hadn't heard them coming. Later it was known, that Mîm the dwarf was the source of the treachery, but as the fight went on, he was nowhere to be seen. Beleg and Túrin fought side by side on top of Amun Rûdh, slaughtering orcs. But everywhere, their men were falling, and soon they stood alone against hundreds of orcs pouring atop the platform from every side.

"If this is the end", Beleg called to his friend, breathing heavily of exhaustion, "then I want you to know..."

Apruptly he was broken off by a heavy blow on his head, which left him unconscious on the ground. As he fell, Túrin turned around with a cry. He screamed to his friend, he wanted him to wake up, but before he could get any closer, he was captured by the orcs and led away. What he didn't know, was that Beleg was not dead, but later healed by Angrod, and thereafter went after the orcs to search for Túrin.

---

"It'll be too dangerous!", Gwindor said to Beleg. They had met a few days ago in the woods and now hunted the orcs together. Said ones were gathered in a camp in the nearby valley, and Beleg wanted to free Túrin from them when night came.

"We need to, it's the least we can do!", Beleg insisted. If he had to give his life for Túrin, he would. He needed to save him, or die trying. "A storm is coming, so we have some protection. They will be too scared from the thunder to worry about us. And we'll be quick and quiet."

In the end Gwindor gave in and as night fell, they crept into the camp and searched for Túrin. The orcs were wailing against the wind and rain from the storm, and as Beleg had predicted, they were afraid of the thunder, assuming, the gods were wrathful with them. They found Túrin tethered to a pole, heavily wounded, and Beleg assumed he had been tortured. It hurt his heart to find his friend in such a terrible state, and with tears in his eyes, he cut off the ropes that held him tied. But the man didn't even stir, he was unconscious and didn't know what was going on around him.

Quickly and quietly, Beleg and Gwindor half carried, half dragged Túrin out of the camp and onto the hillside, where they at least would have some shelter from the trees and bushes. Thunder and lightning heavied the air, and the scene couldn't have looked more miserable.

"Túrin", Beleg said with a soft voice. "Wake up, it's me!"

But he didn't wake up. Instead, his body lay motionless and was wetted by the raindrops pouring down from the sky. Beleg's tears couldn't be separated from them, as they dropped unto Túrin's ragged clothes.

In the end, he decided to simply cut off the bonds from his friend to finally free him, and he took a dagger out of his tunic and started cutting through the ropes. But fate was especially evil that day, and as he cut the ropes around Túrin's ankles, he slipped due to all the water everywhere, and hurt Túrin's foot.

With a cry that pierced marrow and bone, Túrin jumped up with a start, drew his sword and let it sail down on his opposite.

---

Silence was all that was left of Beleg Cúthalion. He lay dead on the ground, his heart pierced through with Anglachel, the blade in Túrin's hand. Beside him sat a crouched figure, spilling tears on his lifeless body.

"No", he said on and on. "No, no."

His heart had shattered into a million pieces at the sight of his friend, and as he realised, what he had done, he hated himself. How could he still live, when he had killed his best friend? He had killed Beleg. He had killed his own heart.

"Beleg, no!", he whimpered. "I'm so sorry, don't go! Please, come back to me! Beleg, please!"

But he got no answer. The wind howled in the treetops and the rain was still pouring down as if it wanted to wash away the evil deeds that had occured this night.

"I need you, Beleg! I need you more than you know. I've always needed you, I cannot go on and live without you. Please, I am sorry, come back, please..."

The tears still dampened Beleg's forlorn tunic, which was stained red. Beleg's soul had vanished, and he would never again walk on this earth. Left was only Túrin, heavied with guilt he would never recover from. And with grief over the loss of his beloved friend.

"What did you want to say that day on Amon Rûdh?", he whispered. "Because, if you had said it, maybe you'd still heard my answer: I love you Beleg, I love you too!"

From that day on, Túrin bore the name of Turambar, the ill-fated and he never stopped grieving for Beleg Cúthalion, his best friend, the person his heart beated for, the one he had killed.