Something was pulling at Eluréd’s arm. He was too sleepy to get up; he could sense without even opening his eyes that the Sun had not yet risen over the far away mountains. Yet the tugging continued, and with that tugging he woke slowly. As he woke, he thought he could hear a horn ringing in the distance. Why would a horn ever be ringing at this time of night, Eluréd thought fleetingly. When he finally gave into the tugging, he opened his eyes, and looked upon a face that was the mirror to his. The face of his twin brother, Elurín. There was worry and fear in his dark eyes, those dark eyes of Elurín’s that were so different from Eluréd’s light ones, the only distinguishing factor between the two young twins.
“Brother, was is the matter?”
“Can you not hear it, Eluréd? They have finally come.”
Fully awake, the sound of the horn and what it meant fully hit him. Eluréd’s face grew as troubled as his twin’s.
“That is the alarm horn. There is something very amiss. I could never believe that the sons of Feanor would dare attack our father.”
“I believe it. I heard the stories Grandmother used to tell us before she died. You never wanted to pay attention, all you wanted to do was watch the warriors practice the sword and bow. They made a terrible oath, and would stop at nothing to get the Silmaril back. Come, the horn is ringing louder. We must find Mother and Father.”
Dashing through the halls of their home, they found their household in a state of panic. Servants, ladies-in-waiting, even some of his own kin were darting about, dropping their belongings in their haste to flee or to aid in the fight. Getting to their parents’ room, they found no one there. Elurín hastily grasped an Elf rushing by.
“Melan, where have the Lord and Lady had gone to?
Melan jumped as if Maedhros himself had brandished a sword at him, then peered at Elurín in the darkness of the hall, recognizing him.
“Young Lord Elurín! I do not know where your mother the Lady Nimloth is, but Lord Doir left with his men to meet a force that is amassing at the borders. He left only a short while ago, ordering the evacuation of Doriath and calling for every Elf able to fight to come to his aid. They say it is the largest force amassed since the Battle of Unnumbered Tears!” the fair-haired Elf nearly screamed, becoming more and more distraught as he spoke.
“Get to my father’s aid, then! If the force is so large, he needs everyone; he can spare no one;” Eluréd said, wishing he were old enough to go to his father’s aid. He was merely 200 years old, and only those who had completed their Coming of Age ceremony at the age of 1000 were allowed to fight. The dismay and helplessness he felt he saw mirrored in his twin’s face.
“Even though we cannot go to our father, the least we can do is find Elwing and Mother and protect them,” Elurín said as Melan rushed off.
Nodding, Eluréd followed his brother to their younger sister’s room. Elwing was sleeping upon her bed quietly and serenely, her dark hair framing her face as she slept. The twins were loath to wake her, to end her peaceful slumber and bring her into the present turmoil. Elurín gently shook Elwing’s shoulder, waking her as he woke his brother.
“Good morning, brother. What are you doing, up and about at this hour of the morning? And Eluréd? What are you doing here? What is going on? It is not the Day of Hoax, why are you waking me-” Elwing’s eyes widened, as she heard the horn. “The horn,” she breathed, “the alarm horn! Who are attacking us? Where are Mother and Father?”
“It is the Sons of Fëanor. They are at last claiming the Silmaril Grandmother and Grandfather wrested from Morgoth,” replied Elurín.
“Father has led the Elves into battle. I do not know where Mother is, but we are going to find her, and protect her and you until Father defeats them.” If Father can defeat them, , Eluréd thought, then crushed the thought, mentally rebuking himself for letting any dismay seep into him. Especially before Elwing, who looked so worried already. “Now, put something over your shift so we can go out of the palace and look for Mother.”
Elwing dressed quickly and followed her brothers out of the palace, and into the courtyard. The courtyard was a haze of Elves running in and out of the large mallorn trees, all trying to get to the battle or leaving to find the safe haven. As the siblings reached the end of the courtyard, the horn blowing ceased. Every Elf in the courtyard froze. For a full minute they stayed frozen. When it became clear that the horn would not be heard again, the Elves moved again, this time more hurried, a little more desperate.
“They have entered the city,” Elwing said almost without emotion. “Father has been over-run.”