Finrod glanced back over his shoulder at Tirion, the White City, which still shone behind them, gleaming brightly, a shining light in the deepening darkness. He sighed and his eyes misted over as he tried to hold his feelings at bay. "Amarië," he whispered into the twilight. "Lotesse i' giliath maa' Varda sila deno' lle men till lye omenta au', a'maelamin." (Amarië, may the stars of Varda shine upon your path till we meet again, my beloved.) His voice cracked as he finished. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to see his father, Finarfin, staring also at Tirion.

"We have chosen and we did not do so lightly," his father said softly as the last of their people followed Fëanor and his sons into the north to seek a crossing to Middle-earth. "We were free to choose, but we are never free from the consequences of the choices that we make, least of all this one." He paused. "I am sorry about Amarië, but we must go on." Finarfin turned and mingled with the stream of Noldor leaving Tirion. Finrod waited a moment more gazing at the city and, turning with tears clouding his vision, followed his father as they left Valinor forever.

Finrod started at the sound of a voice behind him. He turned, seeing his friend, Daelthron, watching him closely, naked blade in his hand. "I'm sorry, Daelthron," Finrod said, an apologetic smile on his face. "I was lost in thought. But come. I am ready to spar with you now."

Daelthron grinned and, tossing another sword to Finrod, they both took their stances in the center of the practice ring in Nargothrond. 

"En garde," Finrod called out as he advanced, swinging his sword towards Daelthron's head. Daelthron ducked, spinning, and lunged forward, aiming for Finrod's side. Finrod turned and so the blade cut through naught but thin air.

Daelthron waited and then, advancing, he changed his tactic and almost leaning parallel to the ground, swung his sword near the floor of the practice ring, but Finrod caught the movement and jumped, the blade passing cleanly underneath him.

Daelthron lost his balance from his effort and fell to the floor. He looked up in time to see Finrod prepare to stab him and Daelthron raised his sword, blocking the blow. He rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet as the duel became more earnest.

Soon the ring was filled with the ringing of steel upon steel interrupted solely by the shouts of warning Finrod and Daelthron gave each other. The blades flashed faster and faster, soon barely to be distinguished they moved so fast.

Finally, Finrod slashed his sword across Daelthron's chest. Daelthron yelled at him and swung his blade to Finrod's neck, too quickly for Finrod to block, and soon they both found themselves on the edge of the ring, Finrod leaning against the railing with Daelthron's blade at his neck and both of them panting, beads of sweat running down their faces.

"You're getting better at this, Daelthron," Finrod said when he got his breath back.

Daelthron grinned. "Aye, but it's a good thing we both are wearing chain mail under our tunics else I would be in a fix right now."

Finrod laughed and Daelthron took his sword away and held it at his side. Soon, they began again, but this time it was more like a few blows exchanged here and there while they mostly talked.

"So," Finrod began, blocking a thrust from Daelthron, do you think the decision of Fingon is wise?"

Daelthron shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think he really has much choice though. If the messengers are speaking the truth, then we must fight back this small force of orcs and destroy them lest they get past our defenses and make us weak. Why aren't you going, Finrod?"

Finrod paused. "I'm still deciding. If Fingon needs our help, then I will go. If not, if his people can kill them all, then I see no reason to go. I am weary of war, Daelthron, and there are many times I wish I had followed my father when he turned with his people back to Valinor."

Daelthron nodded. "Aye," he said softly. "I agree."

Finrod smiled. "Do you want to fight in earnest again?"

Daelthron grinned broadly. "Of course."

And so they began again. That was one of the many things Finrod enjoyed about his friend. Daelthron was tall and broad-shouldered with long, straight black hair, a ready smile, and a jest always waiting on the tip of his tongue. He could be sober when he so wished, but usually he was busy making others laugh. He was one of the few people that Finrod trusted deeply because Daelthron almost always could understand and relate to whatever it was and he was always successful in cheering Finrod up. Oh, there was another thing, Finrod thought, when he accidentally whacked Daelthron in the face with the flat side of his blade. Daelthron didn't mind getting beaten up when sparring with Finrod. (1) He usually made a joke of it and then kept fighting.

Daelthron lifted his blade and spun on his heel, his dark hair flying behind him as he ducked Finrod's blow and ending up behind him, his blade to Finrod's neck. "Beat you again," he said with a laugh. "Maybe it is a good thing you will probably stay in Nargothrond. I'd hate you to get hurt fighting orcs."

Finrod snorted and started forward when he turned sharply, his blade stopping in front of Daelthron's neck. "Maybe it's also a good thing you might stay since you seem to let down your guard often."

Daelthron smiled. "If you were an orc, I wouldn't have given you that chance."

"Then it is a good thing that I'm not one, else you'd be dead," Finrod said, a smile twitching on the corners of his mouth.

Finrod stepped back and both of them placed their swords in their sheaths as they began to walk across the ring to the door on the other side of the vast room.

Daelthron suddenly paused and Finrod stopped also, puzzled. "Finrod," Daelthron began, "there's something I need to ask you."

"What is that? You don't need to hesitate."

Daelthron looked at the floor awkwardly before answering. "If we go to help Fingon..." his sentence trailed off.

"Yes?" Finrod encouraged.

"If we go to help Fingon and I don't return, there's something I'd like you to do," Daelthron finished.

"And what is that? You know that I'd never refuse anything from you. Daelthron, you have been like another brother to me since you helped me guide our people across the Helcaraxë."

Daelthron sighed. "If I don't return, I would like you to take care of my sister."

"Your sister?" Finrod exclaimed. "I didn't know you had one."

"She was lost to me soon after we started on the long trek across Helcaraxë. I found her again about two months ago and she stayed in Menegroth until a month ago when I brought her here."

"Why was she in Menegroth?"

"She was in need of healing. She was captured by some of Morgoth's servants and they brought her to Angband and tortured her until she was rescued by some other Elves who managed to escape. She was nearly dead."

"I'm sorry," Finrod said sympathetically. "But there is no reason why you won't return."

Daelthron sighed again. "I just want to know that she will be kept safe."

Finrod raised an eyebrow. "You know, there are many who ask me pretty much the same thing because they want me to marry whoever it is. Is that the motive behind this question?"

Daelthron looked horrified. "I had no idea. And no, that is not why. My sister is all I have left to me. Beside you," he added quickly.

"Daelthron," Finrod said softly, his fingers tracing a design on the hilt of his sword, "There is only one in the world who I love and she stayed in Valinor. So when others try to force me to marry their sister or their daughter or so on, it tries my patience. I left my heart behind in Valinor when I left it and no one can replace it."

"The one you love, wasn't that Amarië?"

"How do you know her name?" Finrod asked surprised.

Daelthron suddenly glanced around the room hurriedly. "I... I knew her in Valinor," he said hurriedly.

Finrod didn't think Daelthron was telling everything, but he left it as it was. "If you promise me that you are not trying to marry me to your sister, I will look after her if anything happens to you, which I hope will not be the case," he added.

"I promise," Daelthron smiled.

They both left the practice ring.

Two weeks later, Finrod, with the remainder of the Elves he set out with, clattered into the outer courtyard of the great caves of Nargothrond. Several Elves came out to lead the horses to the stables, while one, Amdarel, hurried to Finrod. "How was the battle?"

Finrod took off his helmet and began walking towards one of the doors leading to the passages into Nargothrond, Amdarel following him. "We defeated the orcs, but lost quite a few."

"Of both companies?"

"Fingon lost a couple, but I lost many."

They now were walking down the passageway as Finrod headed for the room adjacent the Council Chamber. He entered and when he had set his helmet down on one side of the wooden desk, he began, with Amdarel's help, to unstrap his armor. When they finished, Finrod asked, "Do you know the sister of Daelthron?"

"Aye, I believe so," Amdarel answered.

"I want you to find her and send her here. I have bad news for her."

"Yes, sir," Amdarel left.

Finrod sat down in his chair, his head resting in his hands. "Daelthron? Why did I have to lose you?"

Thus begins, "Fading Light."

Hey guys! How did you like the Prologue? This is the first time I wrote the Prologue with a cliffhanger, so I hope it flows alright. :D Tell me what you think in the comments below.

(1) I sort of modeled Daelthron after me, for instance, his not minding getting whacked by his friend. A similar incident happened with me and my friend   Moonwatcher_11 when she tried to teach me fencing.