The decision to leave Nargothrond wasn't easy, but the prospect of seeing Doriath and meeting those who had helped raise his father filled Arinyanénar with anticipation. He had heard countless tales of Thingol, the wise and noble King of Doriath, and Melian, the Maia whose grace and power shaped the legendary Girdle of Melian. These were figures of his father's past, part of the stories that had defined Anórien's youth and shaped the legacy Arinyanénar now carried.
Arinyanénar had first met Beleg, the renowned marchwarden of Doriath, in his youth during one of his father's visits to the realm. Anórien, always a close friend of Thingol and Melian, had brought his young son along on one of those visits. Beleg had been assigned to guard them through the forests of Doriath, and Arinyanénar, even as a child, had been captivated by the elf's quiet strength, keen eyes, and effortless skill with a bow. Though Beleg had never spoken of it, Arinyanénar always felt that the marchwarden had seen something in him—a potential that was yet to fully blossom.
When Beleg had heard of Arinyanénar's deeds in Nargothrond—his battles, his leadership, and his becoming known as Macil Aurëa—he had immediately offered to accompany him on this journey. His long familiarity with Arinyanénar's family and the bond they shared made Beleg's offer all the more meaningful. The two had quickly forged a deeper bond, their connection one of respect and mutual understanding.
Now, as they stood on the cusp of their journey, Beleg's quiet confidence offered Arinyanénar a sense of reassurance, as if a steady hand was guiding him forward.
"I always knew you would make your mark," Beleg said one evening as they packed their supplies. "Your father's blood runs strong in you. I saw it even when you were a child."
Arinyanénar smiled at the memory. "I was nothing more than a boy with dreams of adventure, and you were a master of the bow even then. I always wondered if I could ever be like you."
Beleg chuckled, tightening the straps on his pack. "I am no great warrior, but I have learned to walk in the shadow of giants. You, on the other hand, are a giant in your own right, Arinyanénar. Now it's time to see how much further you can go."
With Beleg by his side, Arinyanénar felt a renewed sense of purpose as they made their way toward Doriath. The journey was long, but Beleg's familiarity with the land made it easy to navigate, and the beauty of the forests, with their ancient trees and crystalline streams, filled Arinyanénar with awe.
As they neared the borders of Doriath, the magic of the Girdle of Melian was palpable. The very air seemed to hum with power, and the trees stood tall and ancient, their branches forming a canopy that whispered of secrets older than the stars. Beleg led the way with confidence, and soon they were met by a group of Sindarin elves, clad in the green and brown of Doriath's hunters.
"Welcome back, Beleg," one of them said, bowing respectfully. His gaze shifted to Arinyanénar, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "And who is this?"
"This is Arinyanénar, son of Anórien," Beleg replied. "He comes to see King Thingol and Lady Melian."
The name sparked recognition among the Sindar. "The son of Anórien? Then you are kin to the king!"
Arinyanénar nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "I am eager to meet him."
The Sindar escorted them to Menegroth, and as they entered the Thousand Caves, Arinyanénar was struck by their beauty. The halls were adorned with carvings that seemed to come alive under the soft glow of lanterns. Gems glittered in the walls, and the sound of water flowing through the caverns added a serene melody to the air.
At last, they entered the grand throne room, where Thingol and Melian awaited. Thingol rose from his throne, his silver hair gleaming, and his presence commanding respect. Melian stood beside him, her beauty otherworldly, her gaze calm yet piercing.
"Arinyanénar," Thingol said, his voice warm. "You honor us with your presence."
Arinyanénar bowed deeply. "It is I who am honored, my lord. My father spoke often of you and Lady Melian, of your kindness and wisdom. It is a privilege to stand before you."
Melian stepped forward, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "You are much like your father, yet you carry your own light. Welcome to Doriath, child of Anórien."
For the first time, Arinyanénar felt the weight of his father's legacy lifting, replaced by a sense of belonging. These were not strangers; they were family, bound by bonds deeper than blood.
As the evening wore on, Thingol and Melian listened to Arinyanénar's tales of his journey, his battles, and the forging of Amanarótar. Thingol's eyes gleamed with pride, and Melian's smile deepened.
"You have already achieved much," Thingol said. "And I sense your journey is far from over. But for now, rest. Doriath is your home as much as it is ours."
And so, with Beleg at his side and the warmth of Thingol and Melian's welcome, Arinyanénar began a new chapter in his life, one that promised new challenges, alliances, and discoveries.