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Chapter Two – A Quiet Cell

Hrassa sat on his heels, waiting, back against the wall with his arms resting across his knees; staring, awake in a deep dream.

He had been in the small, barred cell since morning and the sunny day was waning into a glowing evening.  It appeared that he might have been forgotten.  With that dull thought intruding, his mind slid away from restful stillness to reconsidering his present situation.

There had been no interrogation.  The only question asked was for a name.  Then, they just locked him up and left.  No one since.  The only other cell, the one across from his, was still empty.  Not that being incarcerated here, alone or otherwise, was a hardship.  He had been given fresh bread when they put him in.  The cell was dry and swept; its air fresh.  There was a clean blanket, a water jar, and covered bucket.  He liked being out of the direct sun.  The stone walls did make the cell a little cave-like.  Too much stone was the problem with Golda cities in general.  Not enough trees or plants and a ‘park’ did not make up for it.    

A huge blowfly flew in through the high, grated window; its green-burnished body flashing in the fading light.  Not the sort of visitor Hrassa was hoping for.  The fly dipped through the cell bars and noisily circled the foyer of the small cellblock before flying around the corner, disappearing down the hallway.  It would be back for there was no exit that way, only the shut door into the outer corridor.

If it were one of his former traveling companions in here, the poor fellow would by now have gone mad to get out, yelling for his keepers.  He silently sighed.  Perhaps he should have stayed with the company instead of hanging back.  But having caught a glimpse of the child, he simply could not help himself.  She looked so like the Rîn at that age.  With that silvery hair, she had to be Elmoi.  Though from the way she was dressed, very likely the pampered doll of a Noldor lord with a Sindar lady wife.  A Nandor mother would never have dressed her in those clothes whatever her husband’s wishes.

The fly came back as expected.  It flew straight to him and buzzed annoyingly around his head.  Be gone, pest!  It veered away to land on the rim of the bucket, tasting for food.

Just what was it had brought him to Eregion in the first place?  Simply drifting with the company, he had not been allowed a vote about coming here.  It was they who wanted to come see things for themselves.  Though not, as claimed, out of concern that Úmanyar were being oppressed.  The Lord and Lady were here now and they would certainly prevent that sort of thing just as they had taking up rule in Harlindon.  No, it was more for the entertainment then anything else.  Admittedly, his own condemnable curiosity had lured him out of the forest.

The fly began scuttling around, flicking its wings.  Whether it was excited or frustrated he could not tell.

Why did it comfort him so much to know that the Lord and Lady were doing well?  Until now, he had not thought of the lass as a means to approach them.  But, he must suppose if she really were Elmoi that she would be near to them in some way.  Her family might even belong to Celeborn and Galadriel’s household.  They liked having children, especially kin, around them.

The fly had become very still, tensely poised on the side of the bucket as if trying to decide its next course of flight.

How had he gotten himself arrested anyway?  He might easily have left without ever having seen the child.  Still, he had seen her.  And once again, he was pitiably intrigued and drawn in by the ineffable nature of Lindi royalty.  After so long being separated from it, he had thought to be over this weakness or at least able to resist.  But, the sight of her had suddenly caused him to remember Beleriand... Ossiriand, the way it once was, wide ranging and open... how he had gladly served with the nothrim among Denethor’s warriors... left Amon Ereb half alive... then came to serve Nimloth when she was made their Rîn. 

The fly lazily launched off and left the cell by the way it had come in.

Maybe he should not have offered his friendship so quickly.  The child had seemed unafraid when he made eye-contact with her.  The nursemaid, despite obviously being Silvan, had taken it as some kind of insult.  How could she have possibly misunderstood his earnest gesture?  Yet here is where he had ended up.  Still, had he not done his punishment for any small trespass by now?

There was a subtle shift in the air and he knew the door onto the corridor had been stealthily opened.  Then closed.  Someone was coming down the hallway toward the cellblock.  Someone trying to very quiet.  Barefooted... small... wearing a skirt.  He smiled.  It had to be her, come to get another look at him.  The little ruschên!  What if she had gotten him arrested on purpose?  He broke into a wide grin at the possibility then quickly hid his amusement behind a blank face.  She was trying to peek around the corner without being seen. 

“So,” he spoke clearly, making sure to sound unthreatening.  “The huntress has finally come to inspect her prey.”  Come and look for I cannot harm you.

She hesitated, considering what to do.  Then she stepped in from the hall and stopped still before his cell, feet together with her shoes held behind her, making certain to stand out of his reach through the bars.  His breath was taken away.  In the twilight of the dimming prison, the little lass he had beheld in the over-bright daylight stood revealed as the child princess she truly was. 

She was dressed in an exquisitely made formal court gown of snow-drop white and butterfly-hued blue with a frost line of silver trim.  Her shining starlight hair was made up in Lindon fashion; unbraided and loosely gathered with glittery combs and pins, tumbling down her back.  Soft tendrils like broken spider’s silk floating around her face.  Her large eyes were like pieces of smooth, polished jade, glowing from within.  She wore no circlet.  She did not need it such was the grace upon her brow.  Seen like this, she bore an astounding resemblance to Nimloth, made more splendid by light petal-pink skin.  Her countenance was one of shy wisdom.  He was right.  No doubt about it.  She was Elmoi.

Once over her monumental decision to come out in plain view, she examined him with unbounded curiosity.  Peering at him through the bars, she tilted her head this way and that, trying to discern something of his nature.

As always he was curious too.  Who were her parents?  Were they from Harlond and someone he might already know?  How had she kept him here – isolated – until she was able to sneak away and visit him?  To find out, he first had to get a conversation going.

“Shall I stand for the lady?” he asked.  I am at your command.    

She became wary, straightening her head and shoulders thoughtfully. 

“Yes,” she replied, affecting the tone and manner of a high-born, adult lady. “Stand up so that I may see you better.”   He nearly burst out laughing.  It had been an age since he had had an encounter with such absurd aristocratic airs.  And now from such a precocious child!  He stood and came closer to the separating bars.  I am at your mercy.  He extended his arms, putting out his empty hands, and turned around twice. 

“Is the lady pleased or shall I be discarded back into the wild?”  Her reply startled him.

“You are a poor specimen.  Better to feed you to the hounds than let you out to weaken the herd.”  His face must have betrayed him for she immediately relented.  “Oh no, I didn’t mean it!”  She was honestly distressed for having scared him, not necessarily for what she had said.  However, his shock had not come directly from her.  The Rîn had once said almost the same thing to him and he suddenly remembered all the stranger stories he had heard about Mandos.  Not that he actually believed any of those stories about being reborn.  He had personally known people returned from the dead.  They were themselves, not likenesses. 

“Please my lady, I hope so!”  Since she had lowered her defenses too, he decided to try for a hit of his own.  “Were you any other... “  He made a vague, helpless gesture.  “Well, then I might have known ‘twas only teasing and not taken such a fright.  But my lady is Elmoi and your kindred speak ever truthfully.”  He bowed his head to her.

“I am Celebrian, not this Elmoi,” she haughtily corrected, somehow looking down her nose at him despite her short height.  “Are you mad or zany that you think I am someone else?”  He fell dumb at this.  She had no understanding at all of what he had just said about her!

He could not think of what next to say.  Had the girl been intentionally deprived of her heritage?  Even a Noldo would proud to claim his child to be of Nos Elmo if he could.  Something was amiss and his curiosity, as usual, prompted his tongue.  He impulsively decided to reveal his true name and give due respect to his heritage.

“My name is Hrassa.”  That felt surprisingly good to say.  It had been a long time since he had been himself and not just given out a name to go by.  “I beg your pardon if I was mistaken.”  Then he bowed as one should upon introduction.

“That’s a Laiquendi name!”  The little princess’s face brightened even more with delight.  She dropped all affectations and became an excited child.  “You say it differently, but I know what it means!  Cliff!”  She was not precisely correct, but he was impressed all the same.  Then more impressed when her language changed from elegant Sindarin to a lilting Nandorin dialect, her accent reminiscent of the Doriathrim. 

“So you really are Laegrim?!  I’ve never met a real green-elf before!  I’m Galadhrim from Lórínand.  Are you from Harlindon or Emyn Uial?  Our house is in a tree, is yours?  Or have you only a talan?  But in the north, don’t you get cold in the winter when you sleep?  Do you ever sleep or are you always awake?”  Her words spilled out so quickly he barely got all she was saying and he was hard put to keep up with his answers.  To be able to converse with her in his native tongue was unexpected fun.

“... you’re the first real Galadhrim I’ve met... I have no home... I’ve been awake for more than a fortnight, but have been longer... I do like to sleep when I can... ”

“My gwador says even a wood-elf has to sleep sometime.  You heard me come in, didn’t you!  And I was being ever so quiet!  Why are you here?”

“... your gwador is right... you were very quiet... ”

He found himself once again uncertain what to say.  Her simple question asked so much.   How should he explain his lack of destination?  His trust in fate and the natural course of things?  What was the best answer for a young child?  Just the facts, of course.

“... I was wandering with a company and I thought you looked like someone I knew... ”

“A wanderer!  Where have you been to?  Have you seen the sea?  Who did you think I was?  Oh yes, Elmoi!  Does she have hair like mine?  Sometimes people say I look like my naneth.  But they’re just toadies because I don’t, not really.”

“... yes, I’ve seen the sea... the Elmoi are many people, not just one person... a few have your color but also golden or very black... ”  He was enjoying watching her almost bounce with every new thought that came into her head.  Like a flittery, little bird suddenly come to perch on a branch close-by.  Only he must not reach for it lest he scare it away.   

“Oh, like Lindi, I see!  Where do Elmo and his tribe live?  My ada’s grandfather has that name too.  So does Master Apsaron’s brother’s wife’s father.  He thinks he’s a funny fellow, but he’s not.  Master Apsaron is much funnier.  Lord Halanco had a white horse called Elmo, but he doesn’t have it anymore.  I think it died.”

“... no, not a tribe, but a small clan – like a very big family... the Galadhrim are a tribe... ”  She was so charming!  Surely, she knew this about herself.  But not the reason why?  “I’ve heard of the Golden Wood where your people dwell... who’s your ada and nana?”

She abruptly stopped chattering and looked at him as if he was indeed crazy... or stupid.  What had he said wrong?

The door to the corridor thudded open.  They both gasped with surprise and turned to face the hallway.  A voice called out for her.  A voice he immediately recognized.

“RÍANEG!” 

The little princess jumped, her clutched slippers leaping out.  She swiftly put on her shoes.  Backing up a few steps, she took on the pose of a demure maiden; her hands gracefully folded in front of her, head level, eyes downcast.  Hrassa despaired of her tactic.  That’s not going to save you!

Celeborn, resplendent in the court clothes of a high lord, shimmering grey and glimmering white, strode into cellblock with great determination, followed meekly by the jailer with his clanking keys and disheveled ledger.  Upon seeing the Lord’s face, Hrassa relaxed – relieved.  Celeborn was not intending to do anyone bodily harm as might be feared from the threat in his voice.  Hrassa knew all too well what that kind of determination looked like.  Still there was small chance of the little princess getting away unpunished.  Unless he helped her. 

Well, he would help her and find out how it was that, if she were a member of the Lord and Lady’s household, she knew not her rightful legacy.  Fate had them cross paths and he would yield to that.  Considering everything, he might be serving himself as much as her.  He spoke instinctively as he stepped up to the bars, grasping them, his face looking out between.

“Caun-anim.”  Seeing Celeborn’s troubled eyes when he turned to look, Hrassa was stung by the unexpected hurt he saw he had caused.

The Lord drew a quick breath and held it.  “Hrassa?  ‘Tis you?”  He ever so slightly shook his head in denial.  ... but, you’re dead ...  Hrassa clearly heard that thought and for a heartbeat felt what Celeborn felt.  Rarely did he hear another’s precise thoughts and he knew it had happened only by the Lord’s power, not his small abilities.  But, he would have gladly have missed this occasion.

“Nay.”  His throat was clear; his voice steady.  Still, he could only say that one word. 

Celeborn barely hesitated before he ordered the jailer to, ”Let him out.”

“No!  He’s my catch!” Celebrian protested.  Then frightfully realized that she had spoken aloud and without leave.  Celeborn’s chin lifted slightly, but he did not turn to look at her.  He gestured to the jailer to proceed.  The nervous functionary fumbled the key in the lock a bit before the door was finally swung open.  Hrassa came out slowly, his eyes fixed on the pallid little efling, trying to reassure her.  And himself.  We’ll be all right.  With a shooing wave of his hand, the Lord dismissed the jailer who all but ran back to his station.

“Hrassa,” said Celeborn, calling back his attention.  The Lord looked long at him with the same displeasure he would a bow found to be strung too taut.  Which was what Hrassa felt himself to be.  And if Celeborn chose to pull, he might snap in two.

TBC

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Author’s Notes:

All elvish is in Sindarin unless otherwise indicated and underlined means I put it together myself – corrections and comments are welcome!

Celebrian, Sell i Nos Galadhad – Celebrian, Daughter of the House of the Trees

Galadhad – the Trees - the Two Trees; one of the days of the week is Orgaladhad, ‘Day of the Trees’; in “Unfinished Tales”, there is a reference to Celeborn made by Celebrimbor as ‘Celeborn of the Trees’; the full-elven Sindarin royals (as opposed to the half-elven Elweans) are associated with Telperion by virtue of their names and silver hair, Galadriel is associated with Laurelin and both Trees together by virtue of her golden hair – *so* I have used ‘the Trees of the High Elves’ as seen on the West Gate of Moria as the device of Celeborn and Galadriel

Lindi – the Nandor kindred’s name for themselves; they are of the Lindar – the kindred with the largest population of the original three kindreds and led on the Great Journey by Elwë and Olwë; the Vanyar and Noldor came to call them the Teleri – the Nandor led by Lenwë left the Journey and settled in the Anduin river valley

Úmanyar/Úamanyar – literally people not from Aman (the Lindarin kindreds and cultures of Middle-earth)

Nos Elmo – the House of Elmo; another way to say the Children of Elmo

Elmoi – the kindred and clan of Elmo and his descendents; yet another way to say the Children of Elmo

Elmo stayed with his brother Elwë in Beleriand instead of going to Aman with his other brother Olwë; Elmo’s son was Galadhon whose sons were Galathil and Celeborn; Nimloth was Galathil’s daughter

Lindon – formerly Ossiriand, the ‘land of seven rivers’ belonging to the green-elves, the Laegrim.  The Noldor name which means ‘Land of Music’(Song) or ‘Land of the Singers”.  Those Eldar, both Noldor and Sindar (surviving refugees from Gondolin, Nargothrond, Menegroth, Balar, and Arvernien) who did not go back with the Host of the Valar after the War of the Wrath came there when Beleriand was inundated.  The Gulf of Lhûn, where Mithlond was located, divided it into Harlindon (south) and Forlindon (north).

adar/ada – father/dad

naneth/nana – mother/mom

gwador/gwathel – brother/sister who is not a sibling

edhel – elf (edhil is the plural)

nothrim – Household or clan members (collective form of nos)

Rîn – crowned fem., a title for the lady chieftain of the Laegrim

Caun-anim – prince-mine, My Prince literally prince-for myself

Ríaneg – Queenie diminutive of Rian

Golda – Noldor Nandorin

ruschên – fox child