Fair Nargothrond was in flames, and all its buildings and monuments, all its beautiful things woven, and carved, and painted, were going up in a great burning, and the light of its dying could be seen from far off. Aerandir saw no living thing as he hurried along the northward road. The sky was filled with a red light and a pall of bitter smoke crept low upon the ground. Even if there had been no road to guide him still Aerandir could have made his way, for the Orcs had fallen on Nargothrond like a great wave and left a clear path of destruction, and the dragon had followed close on their heels, leaving all behind them blackened and dead.

Aerandir was within sight of the city when his mount stumbled and he was thrown. He had fallen into a half-sleep and slid heavily from the horse, striking his head upon the ground. For a long time he lay still, and he awakened to the feel of something sharp in his ribs. He lifted his face from the earth and groaned. Ah, the abuse his poor head had suffered this day! He wished he had not lost his helm on the battlefield.

“Aiya!” a low voice said. “He is alive, after all!” An Elf was bending over Aerandir, prodding him with a branch. He was dark-haired, with sea-green eyes, and his garments were soiled and torn. He was not armed and did not wear a coat of mail or carry a shield. He knelt down beside Aerandir and offered him a flask. “Here is water, but do not drink too much. It is all that I have.”

Aerandir sat up and drank, and when he had wet his parched throat he offered his thanks. The young Elf looked uncomfortable. “Do not thank me too quickly. I thought you were dead, and I came to take your sword and your horse. The dead have no need of such things, and Lossel cannot walk, and we have far to go.”

Aerandir saw now a young maiden sitting close by. Her long, fair hair was hanging around her pale face. She was smudged with soot and her hands and feet were bound with ragged strips of linen. She smiled but did not speak.
“I am Aerandir of Nargothrond,” Aerandir said at last, struggling to his feet. He staggered and nearly fell.

The young Elf reached out to steady him. “I am Arminas, a visitor from the south, where dwells Cirdan the Shipwright.” He saw the look of surprise on Aerandir’s face and said, “Yes, and I am one of the two messengers that came to Nargothrond in the spring with words of warning. When my kinsman, Gelmir, returned to the south I did not go with him. I had fallen in love with Nargothrond the beautiful, and I would not leave her.”

“Tell me,” Aerandir said, sick with dread. “How fares the city and her people? Have you alone escaped?”

Arminas swallowed hard, and his voice was thick with grief. “It has fallen. The Orcs poured over the great bridge, and the dragon followed and broke down the Gates of Felagund. The brave warriors stood to the last, but none could withstand them, and they were all killed, every one. The women and maidens and children were taken away, and any who dared resist were cast into the fire. This I saw with my own eyes, and I could do nothing.”

Aerandir bowed his head. Oh my dear wife, I cannot give up hope that you still live. Someway, somehow you escaped. I will not give up hope for you while life remains in me. “Did you perhaps see among the captives an Elf-woman, very tall and fair, dark-haired as I am, but with gray eyes, dressed in silver and green, with a silver circlet on her hair?”

“I could not tell one from another, so quickly did the Orcs hurry them away. I did not tarry there; the flames were approaching, and Lossel and I were strangling on the smoke, and the stones of our hiding place grew so hot that we were burned. We fled, and so I cannot tell you more. Perhaps some few escaped, even as we have, and are even now fleeing toward Doriath, or still in hiding and waiting for daylight.” Arminas put his hand on Aerandir’s shoulder. “I am sorry. I see you have your own grief to bear. I should not burden you with such terrible knowledge. It is grief enough to know that Nargothrond is gone and her people scattered.”

They stood silent for a moment in shared sorrow, and then Aerandir turned away. “I must return to Nargothrond. I made a promise to return, and whether she is dead, or taken, this I must see for myself.”

Arminas sought to restrain him. “You go to your death! The city will soon be in ashes and the dragon has taken all that is left to be his foul nest. The one you love is lost to you. Do not go there, I beg you. Journey with Lossel and I to my home at the Mouths of Sirion, where we may find refuge and healing, and forgetfulness of grief.”

Aerandir looked into his eyes. “If your love was within your reach, and there was still the smallest chance that she was yet alive and could be saved, would you abandon her to her fate?”

“No.” Arminas looked at Lossel. “Never. If the least hope remained, still I would go to her, though it cost me my life. She would do no less for me.”

Aerandir looked at him sadly. “Now we understand one another.”

Aerandir walked to where Lossel was sitting and lifted the Elf-maiden into his arms. He carried her to the horse and set her in the saddle, then placed the reins into Arminas’ hands. “This poor beast has served her masters faithfully. Treat her well and she will repay you in kind.” He unfastened his sword belt. “Take this also and use it well, in remembrance of me. I do not have far to go, and I do not think I will need it anymore. I have always been more skilled with a song and a tale than a sword, and a sword would help me but little if I stood in the dragon’s shadow. Farewell, Arminas.”

“Farewell, Aerandir.” Arminas embraced him like a brother. “May you find what you seek.”

Aerandir returned the embrace. It gave him some comfort to know that these young ones had a chance to live. “I thank you for your kindness. May the stars shine upon you, and you and your Lady find safety. Keep to the hidden paths and avoid the road!” Aerandir turned to Lossel and gently pressed her injured hand, and blessed her. “I pray you forget your sorrows and find your sweet voice soon, little one. Be well.” Lossel grasped his hand and kissed it, speaking without words. Then Aerandir left them and walked quickly down the road, turning his face toward the fire.