Far Horizons 18:  Lessons

Camentur’s already pale face lost every vestige of colour.  ‘Who can it be?’ he said tautly.  ‘Who would want to see my family disgraced?  Why?  But for the most impossible of chances you would all be half-way to being convinced that I am responsible for attempting to sabotage this project – and that I am behind the attempted murder of my sister’s husband.’

Legolas put his arm round his brother-in-law’s shoulders.  ‘We do not believe it, Camentur,’ he said warmly.  ‘I would not have believed it, even without Rindor’s assurance that this story is false.  You are too open-minded to take part in anything this petty and mean-spirited.’

‘But that is the thing,’ Elrohir addressed Rindor slowly.  ‘This is not, and never has been, what it appears to be, is it, my friend?   This is not about race, or land, or politics.  Somewhere, hidden behind the rhetoric, there is a personal motive.’

‘That is what I am coming to suspect,’ Rindor agreed.  ‘We are seeking out a very clever, very ruthless character, who is prepared to spout any gibberish that will win him followers.  The brattish lordlings respond to cries of clan superiority and favouritism, so that is what they are fed.  Neldin wishes to hear words that speak of the ill-treatment of the common elf – and those are the slogans thrown his way.’

‘This plan,’ Elladan observed coolly, ‘is the fruition of years of work.’

‘Taking advantage of the activities of the present,’ Rindor agreed.  ‘He is intelligent, cool-headed; able to wait, but also willing to seize opportunities.’

‘Devious,’ added Glorfindel. 

‘And,’ Elrohir said softly, ‘we do not even know who he is targeting.  So far we have assumed that whoever is behind this is working against us – but we can no longer be sure that his motives are that simple.  Who has been harmed so far?  Two Noldor houses.  How are we to know that they are not the chosen victims?’

‘This is making my head ache,’ Haldir complained. 

Glorfindel grinned at him.  ‘I think that is the point, Haldir,’ he confided.  ‘This plot seems to be such a labyrinth that I think those seeking its constructor are supposed to end up going in completely the wrong direction.’

‘But all we have do is hold on to the ball of string,’ Rindor said certainly.  ‘We do not have all the information we need, certainly, but Lord Elrond will also have pieces of the pattern.  When you take him our evidence, he will have a better chance of seeing the complete picture.’

‘We are not going to solve this from here,’ Glorfindel said with certainty.  ‘There are too many aspects to it – and we have no way to find out most of it.’  He linked his fingers and pressed his thumbs together.  ‘We need to get what we know back to Elrond,’ he sighed.  ‘And as quickly as we can.  We also need to make sure that he has a detailed account of Neldin’s statement, together with our speculations – but it is not yet time for you to go back, despite your need to return within a reasonable period.’

‘How long has Adar told you to keep us?’ Elrohir asked suspiciously.

Glorfindel grinned.  ‘A month,’ he said.  ‘You can try trimming time off the journey if you like, but neither Elrond nor Thranduil want you back until they have had time to look into what has been happening.’

‘It is simple,’ Legolas observed.  ‘We arrived accompanied by enough guards to fight off a battalion of orcs.  Let us simply take a few and send them back.  Rindor can go through the information with one or two of his secret-keepers and we could spare a couple of Thranduil’s guards and an archer or two to escort Neldin back to hear what Celeborn thinks of him.  They can always come back and meet us at the pass if they must.’

‘That seems reasonable,’ Glorfindel agreed.  ‘And, what is more, in a week’s time we will send another couple of messengers to repeat and reinforce what we will send today.’

***

Loareg watched the meeting of the leaders by Haldir’s shelter with a touch of envy.  It would be interesting to know what was keeping them all so enthralled, but he could not see them allowing him to approach within listening distance, and Tineithil would be annoyed if he crept up on them without permission.

The other elves were working busily on building the flets.  The one damaged by Neldin had been repaired and was now home to the prisoner, who was being watched by a very bored-looking elf in a uniform he had been told belonged to the High King’s Guard.  Most of the other warriors, Loareg noted, had been happy to involve themselves in the work of turning this beautiful part of the forest into a settlement large enough to take hundreds of elves.  He glowered disapprovingly at the disturbed undergrowth and the few scars on the bark of the trees.

‘Are you one of the Forest Elves?’ a voice asked him in a slightly affected accent. 

He turned his scowl on the two dark-haired elves, one clad in a bright scarlet tunic and the other in silver-embroidered blue.  Loareg looked them over in amazement.  He had not realised how subtle the colouring of the clothing chosen by the visiting elves was, just that it was different from his – but these two certainly stood out in contrast.

‘How do you manage to move through the trees without being noticed when dressed like that?’ he asked without thinking.

‘Why would we want to move through the trees?’ the one in red asked in confusion. ‘What is wrong with the ground?  And being noticed is half the fun!’

‘It is probably a cultural thing,’ the other one suggested.  ‘Like when Elrohir said that if you refused to remove the bells from your horse’s bridle he would break your arm.’

‘Why would you want to put bells on your horses?’ Loareg frowned. ‘Are you afraid you might lose them?’

‘I am Minalcar,’ said the one in red, ‘and this is my friend Ambantor. The High King sent us here,’ he added proudly. ‘I suppose that makes us his representatives.’

His friend nudged him.  ‘Quiet,’ he muttered. ‘We do not want anyone taking back unflattering messages about us!’

Loareg looked at them.  The two of them were clearly young and not as sure of themselves as they would appear.  ‘Everybody moves through the trees in the forest,’ he shrugged. ‘If you cannot manage it, nobody will take you seriously.  Besides,’ he added, ‘it is much safer when the great beasts come.’  They were looking worried, he thought, patting himself on the back. ‘They are fearsome creatures.’ He lifted his head as he heard the whisper of the trees.  ‘I must go now,’ he said.  ‘I will see you again, I hope.’ He sprang and before the other two had a chance to follow him, he had disappeared into the canopy.

He paused before he lost sight of them and checked back.  They were huddling together, gazing around them rather anxiously.  Loareg laughed and went to meet his adar.  This could be fun.

***

‘I am sorry, Aelindor,’ Vondil said quietly.  ‘Domeniel is clearly not used to meeting many people.  I am sure you are only trying to put her at her ease – but it looks more. If her brothers think that you are toying with her affections, they will not be happy.’

‘I will keep my distance, if you truly think that is the case,’ the forester sighed. ‘I do not believe she would misread the situation.  She is young, not stupid.  I am enjoying learning to know her and she is telling me much about the forest.’

In the shelter of the willow branches, Domeniel flushed.  She was not sure whether she wanted to punish Aelindor for being persuaded so easily to keep away from her or to make her brothers pay for their everlasting protectiveness.  To listen to them, you would think she was no more than an elfling, silly enough to fall in love with the first personable elf to come her way.  Did her uncle really think that she had not seen other males?  The problem here in the forest was persuading elves to keep away, not attracting them.  In an environment where ellyth were decidedly outnumbered, any available elleth of suitable age could count on many and regular visitors, all trying to win her interest.  If Vondil only realised, the most intriguing thing about Aelindor was that he talked to her as a person, not as a possible wife. 

The quiet beyond the curtain of the tree was so deep that Domeniel was sure that Aelindor had been taken back to their camp – presumably so that he could be sat down safely in a group, where she would be unable to accost him.  Males, she thought in anger, were such babies.

Aelindor looked up as she slipped from between the branches.  He lifted his eyebrows.  ‘You heard?’ he asked.

Domeniel felt her annoyance fade.  She nodded.  ‘Foolishness,’ she said briefly.  ‘Thonion and Cirith spend their lives sniffing around every unwed elleth within miles, but they insist on becoming all noble and protective when they feel anyone is looking at me.’

‘I am not courting you,’ Aelindor said simply.  ‘Just so you know.  I am committed to this task for the next several years – and beyond that, I do not know what will happen.’

‘I am not courting you either,’ she said, a trifle sharply.  ‘It takes more than a week’s acquaintance to make a successful marriage.  I am just – sharing information and getting to know some people from another world.’

‘In that case,’ Aelindor said amiably, ‘I see no reason why we should not both continue to learn.’

Brethiliel looked at them narrowly as they came into camp and separated.  Aelindor joined his group and Domeniel strode with determination to where her brothers sat. Their naneth smiled.  This was all proving to be very interesting. She found herself looking forward to the arrival of the new families in the forest.  She was glad to see Domeniel’s opportunities opening out.  The isolation of the forest had always been the only thing about it that she had not appreciated – for the sake of her offspring, if not for herself.

***

‘What is the matter with you?’ Camentur snapped at the two young Noldor, as they looked round nervously for about the twentieth time. 

‘There are just so many trees,’ Minalcar said apologetically.

‘And they are so big,’ Ambantor added.  ‘How can they ever tell what is out there?’

‘What do you expect to be out there?’ Legolas asked them curiously

The pair exchanged glances.  ‘There could be all kinds of things.  Boar, great bears, wild cats, beasts we have never seen before,’ Ambantor said warily.

Elladan grinned at his brother.  ‘Dragons,’ he suggested seriously.  ‘I have heard of some nameless creatures that are four times the size of bears, with claws that would rip an elf to shreds – and they are so silent that you would never know they were coming.’

‘Stop encouraging them,’ Elrohir said disdainfully.  ‘There is nothing there that would harm you.  You stay in the middle of the camp and not even a fly will land on you.’  He looked them over.  ‘Tomorrow,’ he insisted, ‘you will start work.  You are not here to be ornaments.  Everyone else has been working – and you will join them.’

Minalcar flushed.  ‘We are not here to work as servants,’ he retaliated. ‘You will not get me to dirty my hands in menial labour.’

Elrohir shrugged.  ‘Then you will catch and cook your own food,’ he told them.  ‘You are here to find out whether you will be able to cope if you come to the forest, as your parents would like – and so you can tell of the reality of existence here to those of your friends who might look on it as an easy life. There are two choices – work as part of our team, or support yourselves.’  He looked at them seriously.  ‘What you will not do,’ he said, ‘is sit back and expect to be waited on.  You are not at home now.’

‘Do you intend to have me with my tunic off, clearing up behind the horses?’ Camentur asked Elladan quietly, as they walked off, leaving the sullen young elves behind. 

Elladan laughed.  ‘Not unless you wish to give the brats an object lesson in duty and co-operation,’ he said.  ‘With all these additions to the group, there is a real need for more food.  Glorfindel has spoken to Tineithil, who has told him of a fair sized herd of deer north-west of here.  He has no objection to our taking one or two.  We are leaving later on a hunt that might keep us away a day or two.  I thought you would probably prefer to be part of that.’

‘Who will ensure that those two do their share?’

‘Glorfindel spent centuries training novices and commanding the Imladris guard,’ Elrohir said as he came up behind them.  ‘Minalcar and Ambantor might think of themselves as very brave and talented – but they will not survive ten minutes once Glorfindel has decided they need a lesson.  Believe me, we know.  Our favourite Balrog-slayer is a big believer in object lessons.’

‘And the more you object, the more painful the lesson,’ Elladan grinned.

***

Neldin sat on the platform that was acting as his prison, his wrists still bound, but now linked by a leash to the tree that offered him shade.  His eyes closed, he tried to remember how much he had said to that persistent, everlastingly polite, pest of an elf who had never seemed to forget any single word that he had uttered, but kept coming back, again and again, to ask for more information on a list of subjects that ranged across every aspect of his life.  He must have said too much.  The hollow feeling inside him told him that he must have said too much.  If he had managed to keep everything to himself, the way he had intended, they would be at him again – nagging him with their endless questions.

If Rindor came back to him today to continue the interrogation, Neldin told himself, he must remain silent.  Only silence was a guarantee that he would not say those things better kept to himself.

His guard shifted his position, but Neldin was pleased to note that the platform did not sway.  Well-built, he told himself.  Whatever went wrong in his life, at least he could tell himself that he was a good engineer.  A bad conspirator, a disgrace as a son, a failure as a keeper of confidential information, but a good engineer.  If only that had been enough.

***

Rindor pinched the bridge of his nose as the noise from Haldir began to interrupt the flow of his thoughts as he attempted to summarise the interrogation, ensuring that Lord Elrond had all the ramifications of Neldin’s words at his fingertips.

Thornen had removed the strapping holding Haldir’s leg to the frame and was encouraging him to see how much movement he had.  The breaks had apparently healed enough for the framework pinning the march warden in place to be replaced with something that would enable him to use crutches.

‘You heal well,’ Thornen approved.  ‘Were we somewhere with smooth paved surfaces for you to begin to walk on, I would consent to giving you crutches without splinting your leg – but we are not, and I do not trust you to take things slowly.’

Haldir did not respond directly, but the range of curses he employed displayed a retentive memory that Rindor felt could have been better employed.  He was apparently less than happy with the weakness he felt in his good leg, and, Rindor thought, compensating for his anxiety with aggression.

‘Could you be quiet, Haldir?’ he requested forcefully.  ‘I have reports to prepare before Lord Glorfindel sends the patrol on its way, and I cannot think with you muttering away like that.  It is not Thornen’s fault that your leg will take time to heal fully – and you need not worry about the weakness, for that will pass once you start to move more freely.’  He pinned the march warden with his eyes. ‘And your pronunciation in those Dwarvish curses was appalling.  I doubt you meant what you said in Haradaic, either.  I will tell you later what you should have said, if you will only shut up now.’

Haldir lapsed into sudden silence, looking at the other in amazement.  ‘What do you know about Haradaic curses?’ he asked mildly.

The healer chuckled.  ‘Rindor knows a lot more than you might think,’ he said with unaltered good-humour.  ‘And not just about cursing in every language known on Arda.  He has a fair amount of experience of recovering from injury, too.  And he is right.  You must expect to feel weak – you have not been able to exercise your muscles since the accident -.’

‘Except those in his jaw,’ Rindor interrupted.

‘You will need to start slowly,’ Thornen carried on, disregarding the words except for the small grin he could not resist. ‘Little and often.  Plenty of rest.  Do not put any strain on your leg yet – and absolutely no climbing.’

Haldir lay back.  ‘This is truly tedious,’ he said much more reasonably.

‘It is, I know,’ Thornen replied sympathetically, ‘but you will be glad to know that it is healing far better than I feared it might.  If you are sensible and work slowly to improve it, there will be no impairment.  You should be pleased.’

‘Well,’ Haldir said, turning his gaze to Rindor, ‘what are you waiting for?  Get on with that report before I am forced to help you with it.’

‘Valar forbid,’ Elrond’s spymaster said dryly, turning his attention back to the paper in front of him.  If he could get this completed, he could hand it to one of his assistants to be copied and there might be time to speak to Neldin again before Glorfindel insisted on putting him on horseback and getting him out of their hair.  There were several points crying out for elaboration.  He began to consider ways of coaxing the information from the prisoner.

***

‘I am not,’ Ambantor said firmly, ‘going to go off into the forest and kill my own meals.  We have no idea what might be out there.  Elrohir might say that there are no monsters, but how is he to know?  He has been here precisely as long as we have.’

Minalcar scowled.  ‘I do not intend to end up running around behind these Wood Elves, doing what they say,’ he protested.  ‘I suppose Glorfindel is all right – after all, he is one of us – but the rest of them – even Elladan and Elrohir – they are not our sort.’

‘True enough,’ a pleasant voice told them.  ‘My only objection to what you say is that you appear to have some mistaken idea that I am ‘your sort’.  And if by ‘your sort’ you mean the kind of idle, selfish, arrogant little snobs that I think you do, it is past time for you to find out that you are wrong.’  Glorfindel looked them both over, his long golden hair and immaculate clothing suggesting even now that he was one who never got his hands dirty.  ‘Gwathor and Regdolen have been fishing,’ he remarked, ‘and they would appreciate some help cleaning their catch.  Off you go.’

Minalcar lifted his chin, opening his mouth to inform Glorfindel that he had no intention of doing any such thing, but the look of anticipation in the elf lord’s eyes stilled the urge to protest.

‘If I am told that you have worked sufficiently hard,’ Glorfindel added coolly, ‘you may also be permitted to share in the meal that will follow.’  He smile took on a predatory gleam.  ‘If not, your share will be saved until you have completed the clean-up that is the inevitable result of meals.  It will make less pleasant eating,’  he added, ‘but I am sure that, by then, you will be hungry enough not to be too particular.’

Ambantor put his hand on his friend’s arm and drew him along the path towards the water.  As they were about to disappear into the trees, Glorfindel’s voice halted them.

‘You are here to learn what life in the forest will mean,’ he told them softly.  ‘And learn you will.  Elrohir tells me that you are not beyond teaching.  We will just have to see.’

‘How dare he?’ hissed Minalcar as they moved beyond earshot.  ‘We are not servants!’

‘He is right in one thing,’ his friend told him.  ‘He can make our lives a total misery.  Whether we like it or not, we will have to do as he says.’

Minalcar looked at him accusingly.  ‘You always liked the camping and woodcraft part of our training,’ he said bitterly.  ‘I do not know why I agreed to come.’

‘You came,’ Ambantor reminded him as he scowled furiously, ‘because your adar told you that if you did not, he would have you working in the smithy until he considered that you had paid off your debts.’

Gwathor inspected them critically as they approached.  It would be unfair to pre-judge them, he told himself.  Just because they looked like conceited popinjays, it did not mean that they were.

‘Glorfindel has sent us to clean fish,’ the blue-clad one said reluctantly.

A small smile stretched Gwathor’s mouth, as he considered the amount of help they were actually likely to offer.  Glorfindel had some very practical ways of bringing brash young warriors down a peg or two and most of them seemed to involve bad smells, manual labour and mud.  It would certainly add to his entertainment to see how his captain dealt with these two. 

‘Good,’ he said.  ‘Take off those fine tunics before you ruin them and let us get on with it.  With four of us on the task, it should be completed in no time.’