Far Horizons 16:  Revelations

The guards bore Neldin back to camp.  Stripped of his wet clothes and wrapped in a dry tunic, he lay on a hastily improvised stretcher of tunics and long sticks, too limp to make any effort to break free.   Still they were taking no chances.

Elladan smiled to himself.  In his opinion, Thranduil’s guard were less indignant about the initial action than about Neldin being the cause of Legolas’s decision to wade into the water to fish him out.  Sabotage was one thing – but endangering the life of their prince, intentionally or not, was quite another. 

He looked thoughtfully at the procession.  Although he was glad that this new life had not been shadowed by death, Neldin’s survival had, in fact, provided them with a problem.  What were they going to do with him?  He could hardly be permitted to take any further part in the project, yet they had no means of confining him or controlling his actions.  He would have to return with them to face Lord Celeborn, Elladan sighed.  And that would slow down the trip home, as well as detract from the simple pleasure of being out in the open with little to do other than journey through the bright days.

Tineithil watched the new arrivals with interest.  He had seen a rapport between the blond one and the trees that had impressed even him – and the reaction of the guards to him had shown only too clearly that, young as he appeared, his life was of more importance to them than their own.  The other two, the twins, had worked together without discussion, knowing exactly what to do in a crisis that had left Tineithil himself feeling rather helpless.  He had observed a healthy respect for them in the guards, but one that had more to do with experience and skill than with position – and yet, clearly, these two were lords among their people.  The Lady would be intrigued, he thought, by the affection between these three – so unlike, and yet obviously connected by bonds of friendship and shared understanding.

Glorfindel was waiting for them as they entered the clearing.  Clearly anxious, he saw at once that his immediate concerns were needless.  Having satisfied himself that all who had left had returned, he removed his eyes from the three young lords, Tineithil observed, and he watched the fair face harden as his attention shifted to the elf on the stretcher.

‘What happened?’

‘He came close to drowning,’ Legolas summarised.  ‘Elladan and Elrohir brought him back.’

‘Why?’

The three stilled, as if surprised.  ‘Because we need to know what he can tell us,’ Elrohir told him.  ‘And because we could.’

‘And because we should,’ Elladan added.  ‘If we had been unable to save him, that would have been unfortunate.  If we had left him without trying to revive him, that would have been murder.’

Glorfindel nodded.  ‘As long as you know,’ he said.

‘You are still testing us?’ Elrohir asked incredulously.  ‘We are no longer elflings, Glorfindel.  If you and Adar and Naneth have not managed to imbue us with your principles by now, you do not stand a chance of making us worthy.’

‘You will always be elflings to me,’ their former tutor shrugged.

‘It is quite comforting in a way,’ Elladan grinned.  ‘It is a shame there is no-one who can turn you into an elfling with a look.’

Elrohir laughed.  ‘We are in Valinor now, my brother,’ he said gleefully.  ‘I am sure there are many here to whom the great Balrog slayer is no more than a naughty elfling who insists on playing with too many sharp toys.’

‘A project for when we have a quiet moment?’ Elladan asked quietly and the brothers clasped forearms in agreement, as Glorfindel closed his eyes and muttered a quick curse.

***

Domeniel was not sure what to make of these elves.  They were not, as she was, at one with the forest, with its song flowing through their veins, but they had a strength about them and a warmth that drew her to them.  They reached out to the trees with an alien song of noble beeches and strong oaks, thirsty willows and lacy birches and, winding through them, Alagsir’s grief for the golden mallorns towering above the shady glades of a distant haven.  These trees – her trees – responded to them with whispers of comfort and greeting, recognising them, in spite of their strangeness, as Wood Elves.

And then there was her uncle.  Vondil looked like her adar, she decided, but he seemed much older, with a weariness to him born of long struggle.  Dumir, on the other hand, held the light of those reborn to the world and he seemed younger than his younger brother.  They talked without talking, she thought.  It took no more than a look or a word or two to revive a wealth of memory – a sharing that made her feel too young to know what she was doing.  They all made her feel gauche, a country cousin, an elleth fit for nothing more than hiding in trees, while her elders set the world to rights.

‘We see few other people, here in the forest,’ Brethiliel apologised. ‘She does not know what to make of you.’

Domeniel heard the warning in her naneth’s voice that told her she was being rude, but she did not know what she could do about it.  It was all right for Thonion and Cirith – they were male, too – but she could not get away from their eyes.  Only when she disappeared into the trees did she feel safe from a constant scrutiny that had nothing to do with talent or race and everything to do with the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts.

She watched as they leaned over the boats, discussing seriously the implications involved in fighting against the current as they moved upstream.  Dumir remained on the edge, watching in amusement as Vondil and Alagsir put the small craft in the water and demonstrated how they could paddle against the flow.

‘I do not know why you would bother,’ he said to Aelindor and Falas.  ‘It would be much easier to go back through the trees.’

‘We cannot just abandon the boats,’ Aelindor objected. ‘They are too useful.  If they current is too powerful, we will have to carry them until it eases – so you will excuse me if I hope that our experts can move them through the water.’

‘When did Vondil become an expert in boats?’ Dumir asked with his eyebrows raised.

Falas laughed.  ‘Well, it is all relative,’ he admitted.  ‘At least he does not turn the craft upside down.’

Vondil brought the boat into the edge and stepped out, pulling the prow out of the water.  ‘It will travel upstream,’ he observed.  ‘But you will have to walk, Falas, unless you wish to paddle.’

‘You will excuse me if I choose to keep my feet dry,’ Falas said amiably.  ‘I will get a better idea of the shape of the land from the bank, anyway.’

‘I think,’ Dumir said, ‘that we will accompany you back to your fellows.  It will be interesting to see Lord Glorfindel – and I find that I do not wish our reunion to end so soon.’

‘Nor I, my brother.’ Vondil stopped abruptly and cleared his throat before continuing. ‘We have to return within ten days, and I believe it will take all of that to follow the river back.  Once the initial mapping is complete, I believe we might have to return to the east of the mountains – but, when I am free, I would like to return and spend some years with you.’

Domeniel scowled.  She did not want to spend time in the company of these strange elves – not unless some other ellyth arrived to absorb their interest.  It was uncomfortable being the centre of attention and she did not like feeling intimidated.  Nothing in the forest was capable of making her secrete herself away, yet within a day of meeting these elves here she was, hiding and listening – it diminished her and she was not prepared to tolerate it.

‘What can you tell me of these trees?’ a soft voice said from below.  ‘I am not familiar with this species.’  A pair of soft grey eyes looked up to where she leaned against the trunk and Aelindor smiled slightly and nodded his head.  ‘They seem to be a type of oak,’ he mused, ‘but they are more compact in their growth.  Do they produce acorns in quantity enough to be harvested?’

‘They are bitter,’ she said reluctantly, ‘but we leach them and grind them for meal.  There are other nuts deeper in the wood that are sweeter – my naneth prefers their flavour.’ 

‘The forest is generous,’ Aelindor smiled more broadly.  ‘There are beech groves?’ he asked.

‘There are,’ she agreed, ‘and chestnuts.  We do not go hungry, even in a harsh winter – there is plenty of food for the small number of people who live here.’

Aelindor caressed the bark of the tree, thanking it for its part in the life of the forest, and Domeniel watched with interest as it responded to his touch. 

‘It is beautiful here,’ he said softly.  ‘It is a good place to call home – I hope that my parents and my brother’s family are among the first to be permitted to come here.  My nieces should have the chance to grow up here, where the forest sings.  I can understand that you are reluctant to share it.’

‘It is not that!’ she said indignantly.  ‘The forest has room for many more to share its bounty.  I am just unused to strangers.’  She glanced at him as he kept his eyes on the tree before him. ‘How old are your brother’s ellyth?’ she asked.

Aelindor smiled.  Small steps, he thought, and careful offerings.  It was no different from coaxing a frightened wild animal down from the trees.  All it took was patience and care.

***

Tineithil was impressed.  He had not really paid much attention to Rindor, accepting him as the necessary record-keeper of the expedition, one who knew everything, but preferred to exist in the background.  The reason for that preference, he thought, was now clear.  It was, after all, so much easier to learn what was going on when one faded from sight and listened and watched.  There seemed to be little that had happened over the previous months that had not made it into the memory of this remarkable elf.  Too much Noldor blood to be truly one with the forest, Rindor nevertheless possessed all the perspicacity of a Wood Elf.  Tineithil sat unobtrusively behind Glorfindel and continued his observations.

Neldin squirmed in discomfort, his wrists tied firmly behind him.  At first reluctant to bind him, Glorfindel had agreed after the half-drowned elf had struggled to his feet and attempted to make it as far as the horses.

‘You are not going to be permitted to remain silent,’ Glorfindel told him firmly.  ‘We want to know what is in your head – people, actions, reasons – anything and everything that could be related to these attacks.  If we have to take you back to the day of your conception and listen to every thought that has ever passed through your brain, we will do it.’

‘You cannot make me speak,’ Neldin defied him hoarsely.  ‘I am no traitor!’

Elrohir frowned at him as if he were something rather distasteful into which he had just stepped.  ‘No?’ he queried.  ‘I think my daeradar might have a different opinion on that subject.’

Neldin flushed.  ‘Celeborn does not own me,’ he said fiercely.  ‘You are all the same, you arrogant lords and princes – you think that you can have whatever you want and you will take it regardless of who has a better right.’ He spat the words in a voice burning with hatred.  ‘We have endured it for ages of Arda – but we do not need you now!  Here, in the Undying Lands, each elf will be valued for his own worth.’

‘Indeed you will be,’ Haldir sneered at him.  ‘And that value is less than dirt.  Who do you think you have been harming, you piece of dross?  Finarfin the king, in his fine castle?  Even Lord Celeborn or Lord Thranduil, as they strive to give us all a better opportunity?  Or the ordinary elves beside you, who have been working all their lives to feed and clothe and protect you and those like you?’

‘I have always hated you,’ Neldin observed coldly.  ‘I was glad to have the chance of knocking some of that arrogance from you.  Always thought you are special, have you not, Haldir – how did you like being brought down to earth with your face in the dust?’

‘Coward,’ Haldir hissed at him. ‘You would not dare to go up against anyone face to face – the only way you would dare challenge any of us is with a thrown stone or a knife in the back.  I have nothing but contempt for you.’

‘Enough,’ Glorfindel insisted.  ‘This is not taking the questioning any further.   Information is all that we want from you, Neldin.  You can keep your half-baked theories of the world to yourself.  Who put you up to this?’

Neldin scowled at him and lapsed into silence.  Rindor leaned forward and put his hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder, murmuring in his ear. 

‘If you think that would be best,’ Glorfindel shrugged and gathered the attention of those nearby.  ‘Come, my friends.  We will leave Neldin to the attentions of Rindor and our immobile march warden.’  He grinned at Haldir.  ‘You were looking for a useful task, my friend.  You have just been promoted to interrogator’s assistant.’

As they withdrew, Glorfindel looked over his shoulder to the three elves remaining. ‘I am of the opinion that it will take a lot to get through that thick skull,’ he observed to the twins.  ‘You might end up wishing that you had not had absorbed so much nobility from your training.’

***

Loareg glanced at his adar doubtfully, before deciding it would be better to keep his thoughts to himself.

‘What is it, my son?’  Tineithil asked him without turning.

The young elf looked embarrassed.  ‘They were not as bad as I thought,’ he said.

‘You are surely not suggesting,’ his adar grinned, offering him a portion of the food he had taken from his pack, ‘that I was right?’

‘Legolas seems to move through the forest as well as we do – and he heard the messages that the trees were whispering.  And those twins,’ Loareg bit into the cheese, ‘well; they were quick-thinking and good at what they did.  I would have thought that they were too late and that elf was dead.’

‘I have been quite impressed by the party as a whole,’ his adar admitted.  ‘And remember that the Lady says we are to help them as much as we can.  She does not seem unhappy to have them here.’

‘Only,’ Loareg looked up at Tineithil, flushing slightly.  ‘Do they have any ellyth?’ he asked.  ‘Two parties of them have arrived now and they are all male.  Ellyn outnumber ellyth in the forest as it is – surely the Lady will not want them to come unless they bring families with them.’

‘Ah,’ his adar said, ‘I suspect they wish to establish homes before they bring their families.  As I understand it, there are families waiting east of the mountains, and they will come once it is thought to be wise.  I am sure, my son,’ he continued gravely, ‘that there will be ellyth of suitable age.’

‘Do you think I could get to know them a little better?’ Loareg asked in a rush. ‘It is interesting watching them from the trees, but I would like to speak to them more.’

Tineithil considered his request for several minutes.  ‘I think, my son, that might very well be a good idea,’ he said finally.

***

‘How is it,’ Haldir complained, ‘that I have ended up the interrogator’s assistant, whereas you have the job of interrogator?’

Rindor quirked a one-sided grin.  ‘Experience,’ he offered.

‘Are you suggesting that I have not grilled enough victims?’

‘Maybe I am just better qualified for the element of brutality at the moment,’ Rindor suggested.  ‘You can hardly expect Neldin to present himself within arm’s range so that you can attempt to persuade him to speak.’

‘Perhaps,’ Haldir conceded.  ‘Now tell me how we are going to discover whatever sordid secrets this disgrace of an elf is concealing.’

‘With gentle persistence,’ Rindor told him.

Haldir looked disappointed.  ‘Would hitting him not be more effective?’ he complained.

‘I am not going to tell you anything,’ Neldin spat at them.  ‘Stop talking as if I am not here.’

‘You are not here,’ Haldir managed despite his position to look down his nose at the bound elf.  ‘You are merely a source of information.  Beyond that, you have ceased to exist.’

‘It would be easier for you simply to tell us who put you up to this,’ Rindor told him, ‘although I have no reason to expect you to follow such a straightforward path.’

Neldin replied with an expression that made Haldir raise his eyebrows. 

‘Anatomically impossible, surely,’ he commented.

Rindor began his questioning with simple enquiries that were so obvious that Neldin saw no reason to remain silent and he continued over a period of hours, insistently putting question after question, irrelevant interspersed with occasional significant queries ranging from his naneth’s name to the identity of his fellow conspirators, from his childhood friends to his method of reporting.

Neldin found that the concentration needed to provide innocuous answers made his head spin and after some time he began to wonder if he was making slips.  However, Rindor’s expression and tone remained invariable; quiet, polite, uninterested, persevering, relentless.

The shadows passed across the clearing and the sky began to darken, but Rindor’s interrogation of Neldin continued unabated.  Haldir began to feel almost sorry for the elf as he swayed with weariness, his short answers to unrelenting enquiries becoming seemingly increasingly random.

It was dark before Rindor stopped, and before he allowed the distraction of food and drink.  Neldin drank thirstily from the cup held to his lips, but he shook his head silently at the offer of anything to eat.

‘Take him,’ Rindor nodded to two of the Lothlorien archers.  ‘Keep him in one of the flets,’ he suggested, ‘with his wrists bound – and be sure there are two guards with him at all times.’

They took his arms to help him stand and supported him as they pulled him across the clearing.  Rindor watched him go, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to force back the headache caused by the intensive questioning, so that he could think about the welter of information.

Haldir looked at Elrond’s pen-pusher with respect.  ‘I am impressed,’ he admitted. ‘I begin to feel that even the role of interrogator’s assistant was too much for me.’

Rindor tilted his head down to meet his eyes and smiled wryly.  ‘Now all we have to do is sort the relevant from the pointless,’ he said.

‘But first,’ Haldir insisted, ‘you eat.’

***

There were more elves in the forest than Aelindor had realised.  Since they were in the company of Dumir’s family, occasional visitors appeared to greet them, and each evening they shared their evening meal with one or two families.

Falas was in his element.  Vondil was surprised how skilled he was at making friends. He chatted pleasantly, asked after absent family, laughed over old jests, charmed shy elflings and flirted harmlessly with smiling wives.  It must, he thought, be a quality that was more of use in his metier than it was for a warrior.  Orcs, Vondil mused, had never required careful handling – cautious, maybe, but not careful.

The elflings were particularly sweet.  They seemed to take Vondil in their stride and looked on Falas as a big brother.  Aelindor they barely seemed to notice as being an outsider – the one who surprised them was Alagsir, whose fair hair and sea-grey eyes made him stand out among the dark-haired, misty-grey eyed Forest Elves.  The little ones stared at him, their fingers in their mouths and the older ones held back, unsure.

‘I feel like a sideshow at a fair,’ Alagsir muttered, making Vondil grin.  ‘Do they have no Lothlorien elves in this forest who have accustomed them to our colouring?’

‘If they find you remarkable,’ Vondil mused, ‘you common or garden elf of the Golden Wood, what will they think of your Lord and Lady?  Or of King Thranduil?’

‘You think their own Lady might have found a rival?’

‘I suppose it depends,’ Vondil shrugged, ‘on what makes her their Lady.’

‘Aelindor is with your niece again,’ Alagsir remarked as he examined their surroundings.

‘You are not the only one to have noticed that.  I believe Brethiliel is holding her sons off by pure willpower.  We had better have a friendly discussion with him fairly soon, or he might find himself more deeply involved with my family than he intends.’

‘This has become a procession rather than an exploration,’ Alagsir complained, as another pair of elves sidled from the forest, staring openly at the strangers among them.

‘We were sent to find information, though,’ Vondil remarked, ‘and information we are returning with in plenty.  Aelindor is being introduced to every tree-herder in the forest and Falas has stored up descriptions of soil types and fertility, together with samples of any unusual food crops.  The boats are becoming weighted down with all the different gifts we are given.  And many elves are pleased to give us information to flesh out those maps of ours.  On the whole, Lord Glorfindel should be quite pleased with us.’

‘How long before we reach camp, do you think?’

‘Two days,’ Vondil said with some certainty.  ‘Dumir tells me we are less likely to have visitors tomorrow and that by the following day the elves of the forest will have withdrawn from the noise and bustle we have created.’  He paused and bit his lip.  ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that in our enthusiasm for our new home, we do not destroy the very tranquillity we have come here to seek.’

Alagsir nodded.  ‘It has been worrying me, too,’ he admitted. ‘I would not wish to drive away those who live peacefully here – yet we are bound to bring change.  It is not so much those few who are here now, but I suspect there will be some thousands eager to travel within the next few seasons.  I hope our lords are sensitive enough to the needs of the forest dwellers to weigh up their needs together with ours.’

‘We can only let Lord Glorfindel know,’ Vondil said philosophically.  ‘He is a good leader – he will not fail anyone if he can help it.’

***

‘What have you discovered?’ 

The clouds above the canopy were flushed with the golden blush of the rising sun, but Glorfindel had as yet been unable to discover Rindor’s findings.  The dark-haired elf had been exhausted by the time the interrogation ended – seemingly even more worn than his subject.  Once Haldir had persuaded him to eat a few mouthfuls, Rindor’s headache had clearly been too intense for him to be able to report back, and Glorfindel had sent him to sleep it off.  It was now, however, another day – and it was time for the truth to be told.

‘Many things.’  Rindor’s eyes were still shadowed. 

It must be something to do with dealing in information, Glorfindel thought irrelevantly.  He had many times surprised the same look in Elrond’s eyes – a world-weary sadness, born of knowing too much.

‘Let us confine ourselves to those things that have a bearing on our situation.’

‘He is being used,’ Rindor offered.  ‘Not that he realises it.  He has been fed information and ideas designed to enhance all his prejudices – a political mish-mash of notions that have little in common other than a desire to make him angry.  The one who found him is clearly very charismatic – he has Neldin completely convinced that he is working to save the Blessed Realm from the machinations of land-hungry lords.’

‘Has he given this elf a name?’ Legolas asked.

‘He has,’ Rindor confirmed.  ‘But I think we can be fairly sure that the name is false.’

‘How?’ Glorfindel frowned.

Rindor exchanged looks with Haldir.  ‘Because Neldin eventually gave the name of Camentur Taryaturion.’

Into the stunned silence which found all eyes turned towards Legolas’s brother-in-law, Rindor dropped the remainder of his conclusion. ‘And since Neldin clearly does not recognise the one who bears that name, there is little doubt but that someone else has been using his identity.’