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Chapter Seventeen – A Considerable Welcome

Hrassa flung away the clothes brush and shot out of the alcove like an arrow; the curtains hung across the entrance floating down in a transient sign of his lightening egression.  He overtook Celeborn, whose more deliberate stride had brought him almost to the entrance of the private passage, and leapt past the lord to block the doorway by grasping the low lintel with one hand and the frame with the other.  He leaned his head inside the passage, intently listening.  Laerlínath was once again awed at the elegant speed with which a wood-elf could move, but she was also baffled as to what the cogndîr thought he was doing by interfering with the Lord.

“It’s probably nothing,” said Hrassa, the dutiful tone in his voice as natural as rain in spring.  “Wait here and I’ll find out what’s going on.”

“Oh, no need to put yourself out on my behalf.  If naught to worry over, why don’t you just let Ithinduil take care of whatever the matter for you?”  The vehement sarcasm in the Lord’s reply brought Hrassa around to face him in startled embarrassment at what he only just realized he had done.  Celeborn’s eyes flickered with green flame; his jaw clenched in anger even as he spoke.  “Have I indeed been too magnanimous?”

Aurthôn had followed Hrassa out of the alcove to stand next to Laerlínath.  They exchanged an anxious glance, but where her husband was apprehensive, she was stunned.  Now, I understand your cautiousness around him!  The charming edhil lord, who treated her with such gentle consideration, had without warning instantly transformed into a puissant eldar prince.  He loomed over the green-elf like an impending blizzard; blinding in its swirling intensity and stinging ice.

“Do you think you can simply take your old place back?”  The cogndîr’s face went stoically blank, his arms dropped to his sides, and he stared ahead as a warrior should whenever addressed by his high-lord commander.  “Has that impossibility not yet been made clear to you?”

She could not exactly understand the Lord’s furious words, as he spoke in Nandorin, but she was quite aware what he was saying to his old bowman.  This was the very reason he had let Elrovail take that mean slap at their friend – to keep him from imprudently acting with his former authority.

“You are neither guardian nor member of this House anymore!  And you shall not resume the privileges you have rejected!”

“Aran,” said Hrassa, bowing his head in acknowledgement of Celeborn’s authority to judge him.  “I humbly apologize.  I have erred and it will not happen again.”  He did not raise up his head and held his eyes downcast, awaiting his sentence.

“That is if any promise of yours can be trusted.”  Although he had reined back his anger, Celeborn appeared hardly satisfied by the abject apology.  As though, Hrassa asking for his forgiveness would have been preferable.  “Now, get out of my way.”  The cogndîr moved aside; his stoic mask crumbling under his prince’s scurrilous words.

Having been the recent recipient of another high-elf’s ire, Laerlínath reluctantly found herself feeling sorry for the green-elf.  I too was startled by the child’s cry and made fearful for her sake!  If Celeborn had not moved to investigate, she would have acted just as imprudently and demanded for the Lord to do something.  Nevertheless, next time she had an urgent request to make, she figured begging would be a much wiser approach than insisting.

But before Celeborn took a step forward, a familiar voice called out Hrassa’s name from the depths of the passage.  She was greatly relieved to hear Lord Celebrimbor’s excited hail.  Why of course!  That wayward child has once more delayed him!  Celeborn and Hrassa and her husband, too, notably relaxed knowing now there was no reason for alarm.  A moment later, the master-smith burst forth from the darkness like Arnor coming through the Gates of Morning, and all the unhappy tension in the air dissipated into nothingness like a dawn mist.

“By Aulë! ‘Tis you!”  Celebrimbor offered Hrassa an exuberant smile and a welcoming hand, which a glad Hrassa unhesitatingly took into his.

Ithinduil was right behind the master-smith, but the guard was forced to stay in the passage as the broad-shouldered lord completely blocked the doorway.  Nevertheless, he quickly informed the Lord that all was well and the Lady Celebrían was safely en route to her room under the supervision of her own guard.  Reassured by the report, Celeborn smiled at his friends’ cheerful reunion, his previous pleasantness reinstated.

Laerlínath was also reassured by the news that the little princess was safe.  But, whatever was the child doing in there instead of in her bed?!  The depth of her concern surprised her.  Certainly, she would care about any child living under such lax supervision in such a hazardous place as this, but her growing connection to the Lord and Lady’s daughter felt oddly personal.

“Come now, who is this Íhu person you always speak of?” joked Hrassa.  The two friends grinned fiercely at each other as they tested the strength of their grip, one against the other, eager to see which of them would wince first.

“Why, I mean you, you old morben!”

“Me?  You can see me?  Remarkable!”

“Is it not?” laughed Celebrimbor.  “And how wonderful it is to see you again!”  For a second, the Lord looked suspiciously at his fellow ruler.  Laerlínath did not think Celebrimbor sounded that struck by the bowman’s unanticipated return, either.  Even earlier, when Celebrían had informed him of Hrassa, the master-smith was merely disturbed, not surprised.

“The stars forever shine bright upon our meeting!” returned Hrassa.  He never lost his wide grin, but his eyes suddenly tightened in a painful squint – signaling the end of the contest with Celebrimbor the winner.  Competition over, they loosed their grip, but held their handshake – Celebrimbor placing his other hand atop and Hrassa his free hand over all.

Why the green-elf even thought to challenge Celebrimbor’s strength, Laerlínath admitted she would never understand.  Although he had as muscular an upper body as one would expect of an archer, the bowman was noticeably smaller then the Noldor lord.  Ellyn – morben or calben – all the same.  They simply had to challenge each other, whether or not they would get hurt for nothing and no good reason.

“How have you been?” asked Celebrimbor, radiating with the warmth of genuine feelings.  Hrassa’s appreciation of those feelings was just as genuine.

“Well enough,” he replied.  “I would ask how you have been, but your current fortunes are much discussed abroad.”  A vulpine sparkle spread outward from his eyes to light up his entire face.  “Unless a wife has been tucked away unseen into a corner the same way a daughter has escaped notice.”

“A little treasure, is she not?” chuckled the doting uncle.  “But, no.  No such prize for me, sorry to say.  You?”  The empathetic hope in Celebrimbor’s question tugged Hrassa’s smile a little crooked as he shook his head no.  “Too bad.  For both of us.”  He released Hrassa’s hand and quickly looked around.  “Did not Elrovail get here before me?”

“Yes, and has gone to inform Galadriel,” explained Celeborn.

“Oh, but I do not think she intends that,” warned Celebrimbor, showing a lighthearted misgiving about Elrovail’s true motive.

“Just so,” agreed Celeborn, his smile expanding.  He shrugged his eyebrows at Celebrimbor’s wry expression.  “An honest surprise awaits my lady, for a change.”  He placed a hand on each friend’s shoulder.  “Come! Let us drink a toast for good cheer and fortification ere that momentous event.”

With enthusiastic agreement from both, they went to the sideboard where waited the delivered mead and troop of small crystal goblets.

“Hrassa, what think you of our city?” asked Celebrimbor.  He appeared eager to have the Laiquende talk about his works, which seemed peculiar to Laerlínath.  Of what possible significance is a forest-dweller’s opinion about a stone city?  Without a second thought, she picked up the pitcher to serve their drinks.  “And give me your first impressions,” insisted the master-smith.  “Do not let your recent incarceration sway your opinion.”

“Well, at first, it reminded me of Tol Sirion…”  He paused, waiting for a reaction.  Laerlínath handed a cup to the Lord and looked at Hrassa with a new respect.  For the first time, she realized that, in his various duties throughout an age of turmoil, he had to have traveled over the length and breath of vanished Beleriand.

“Really?  Not Sirion in Arvernien?” responded Celebrimbor, delighted by the observation.  “Go on!  Go on!  Say why!”  He hardly noticed the cup Laerlínath placed in his hand to the degree she worried it would slip out of his fingers.

“Besides being situated on a point between two rivers, there are taller, less thick, walls... “  While listening to Hrassa elaborate about quays and towers and architectural styles, Laerlínath poured another cup, gave that to him, then set down the pitcher.

Although, Aurthôn was disappointed, she did not relent.  Perhaps their social station was adequate, but her husband should understand that these were their elders.  She and he must respect their close camaraderie and not intrude.  Besides, he had already drunk enough wine within one hour’s time.  Any more and he risked becoming inebriated.

“Hear now, you must join us.”  Setting down his cup, Celeborn picked up the pitcher and poured for them himself.  Aurthôn unsuccessfully tried to suppress a smile at finding her not being able to politely refuse on their behalf somehow humorous.  “Since, you joined us some time ago.”  Their host handed a full goblet to her grateful husband.  “And you soon will.”  His bright smile gleamed as he handed Laerlínath hers.  The generosity of spirit behind that smile eased her reticence about being included and also persuaded her to be more forgiving of her husband over-imbibing.  The Lord retrieved his own drink and, following his lead, cups were raised.

“Gwend!” he proclaimed and all heartily echoed, “Gwend!”  They drank – the prince and master-smith and bowman smoothly downing their mead to the last drop.

Laerlínath took a mere sip, then sighed to see Aurthôn drain his cup too, even if a bit slower then the others.  Apparently, drinking to excess had not ever been a topic for discussion in this fledgling court.  Clearly already too long deprived of the presence of true ladies.  But, she wisely accepted that now was not the time to begin a much needed campaign for temperance.  Whereupon, she picked up the pitcher in an offer to refill their cups – although the portion would be half what it was before.  Her husband would get even less.

The service door slowly opened and the two cleansed mithril wine bowls were brought out on a polished silver tray by an ellon, not an elleth.  The chained-key discreetly attached at his waist told Laerlínath that the fellow was a wine butler’s assistant, which meant the cups were too important to be handled by a lower servant.  And we drank from those vessels!  The Lord and the cogndîr had indeed been eyeing her and Aurthôn for their presumption in using the cups, not simply for sneaking a bottle or being caught kissing!  Her husband – who if he did not suspect before had to understand now with the return of the cups in this manner – returned a patently innocent smile to her glare.  Flustered, she accidentally took more than a sip from her cup and had to hold her breath against the strong aftermath of the aromatic mead.  But, it worked well to keep her from nervously laughing aloud at his playful denial.

“You may put those on the small serving table in the alcove, Golfod,“ Celeborn instructed.  He nabbed the half-finished bottle of wine that had been left on the sideboard.  “And put this with them.”

“Preparation is prevention,” said Hrassa to Celebrimbor, who knowingly smiled.

“Aurthôn has kindly offered to be Hrassa’s guide during his stay,” Celeborn informed Celebrimbor, offering a safer topic for conversation than Galadriel.

“You could not have a more excellent companion for touring the city,” agreed Celebrimbor, who gave his clerk an acknowledging nod.  Seeing her husband preen a little under his lord employer’s praise and satisfaction pleased Laerlínath.  Catching his eye, she tipped a silent toast to him, which – as intended – puffed his feathers even more.

“So I have been told,” said Hrassa as he held out his cup for her to pour more drink for him.  This forwardness set her to wondering whether his rate of consumption was normal or, as suggested, expressly in preparation for facing the Lady.  Maybe it would be helpful for me to partake a bit more too...  So for his third round, she sympathetically filled his cup.  “They have graciously opened their home to me as well.”  He gave her a small grateful bow on account of both favors, which caused her to inadvertently smile at him – and then frown when he smiled back.  At least this time, you did not wink.  If he ever did that again, she would most assuredly have to withdraw her invitation into their home.

“I bear another invitation for you,” grinned Celebrimbor, after a quick glance at a no longer smiling Aurthôn.  “Depend upon it, Telpë, our rugged Dan here captured the heart of every young lady in Ost-in-Edhil ere he sauntered into the custody of the patrol.”

“Has he now?  I can think of only one young lady that might be so bold as to issue her personal invitation so quickly – other than she who now graces our company.”  Laerlínath felt her cheeks tingle.  She also noticed that the Lord had barely reduced his second serving despite drinking from his cup.

“Precisely the one,” confirmed Celebrimbor, who had not even bothered with appearing to drink.  “Hrassa, you are expected for tea tomorrow afternoon.”  Perhaps she had been hasty in her estimation of what was the usual custom, and again worried about her husband’s insobriety.

“I... think not.”  The congdîr was obviously unsure who they were talking about.  Once more, Laerlinath had to resort to her drink to hold back an inappropriate laugh.  You expect to be completely aware of everything around you and for a second time find you are not?  She just assumed the said lady had been present wherever Hrassa had gotten arrested and had presumed upon the master-smith.

“Oh, but you should,” advised Celeborn; his tone nothing short of patronizing, confident that he knew what was best for his friend.  “Her teas are a sought-after invitation.  It would increase your social standing and make your visit much more entertaining.”  However, in this matter, his bowman did not look like he trusted his prince’s opinion.

“Were the lady’s salon considered the societal summit, I would not accept.  Attending a tea party is beyond the limits of my tolerance.  And I would have thought yours.”  He turned to address Celebrimbor.  “So, I beg you, Hirdan, to please convey my utmost apologies and deepest regrets to the gracious lady, but I am unable to attend.”

Celeborn eyed Golfod as he passed by on his way back to the service door.  Laerlínath assumed because his task had taken a bit longer than one would expect.  But then, the servant flexed the fingers of his low hand and the Lord let him go without comment.  Yet one more thing I must ask Aurthôn about.  It was not the first time she had noticed this subtle signaling between the Galadhrim.

“Really now, Hrassa, you should not miss the opportunity,” urged Celebrimbor.  “If you are too shy, I will escort you there and make introductions.  I am sure you will enjoy the experience once you settle into it.”

“We are talking about a tea party!”  Hrassa stared at him, seriously doubting his friend’s intelligence.  “If ever there was a more ridiculous waste of time!  What should be but a friendly gathering has been purposely twisted into vain posturing and a cruel game of status.”

The lords laughed, but Laerlínath took strong exception to his rude remarks!  Once more, she distracted herself by taking a swig from her cup.  Voiceless until she coped with that, she had a moment to think about his ugly attitude.  And decide not to defend her gender’s preference for a calmer social ritual than the rowdy fests favored by ellyn.  For unlike any other houseguest, she could expect Hrassa to likewise absent himself from his hostess’ planned receptions.

“Now-now, mellon-nin,” soothed Celebrimbor.  “Her board is well-laden, I guarantee you that.  And the brew on a par with Telpë’s – seeing as he has instructed her in his recipe.”  Celeborn acknowledged this fact, nodding yes, when Hrassa skeptically looked at him for confirmation.

“You required something at least tolerable to drink?” his bowman speculated.

“Yes, as I do attend often enough,” admitted his prince.

“See? No great difference between hearty mugs and delicate teacups, is there?” Celebrimbor went on.  “Although,” his expression turned slightly apologetic, “many of her other guests do tend to be completely lacking in astute conversation.  Rather cotton-brained, for the most part.  Still,” he grinned with goodwill and patted his friend on the shoulder, “nothing you cannot handle for a few hours.”

“Hours?!  Well, it matters not for I am not going.”  Hrassa took a deep gulp from his cup as if to emphasize his decision was final.

“You may be right, after all,” Celeborn began with a thoughtful air, as though the discussion had forced him to reconsider his previously stated opinion.  “That Jestador fellow – the current favorite in her extensive entourage – has a disconcertingly vacant stare.  I often wish to twist his head all way round so he does not look at me.  And that effeminate clown!  What’s-his-name? – Tinuion.  Another regular – wooden-headed, rather than cotton-brained.”  He shook his head in judgmental disdain.  “Entirely incapable of self-direction.  Without someone to pull his strings, he too is but a garish prop.  As Qaurë says, in general, the ladies there are as interesting as a row of painted dolls.”

“So, why ever should I wish to suffer such company?!” demanded Hrassa.  He drained his cup of what was left, and turned back to Celebrimbor.  “You may or may not inform the lady, but I will not be going.”

“Yes, you will,” snickered the master-smith as he poured his untouched mead into Hrassa’s empty cup – which flabbergasted Laerlínath.  She could not believe what Celebrimbor had just done!  Nor was the cogndîr affronted at being given the lord’s leftovers!  For he gave a little raise of his cup to the lord and drank from it!

“How so?” Hrassa asked with a slightly snide waffling of his upper lip.

“Because now,” Celebimbor gave Celeborn a devilish grin of appreciation, “you are too curious not to.”

Just as Hrassa opened his mouth to reproach them for their disparaging assault on his willpower, the latch of the door into the great hall and dais audibly snapped, threatening to open.

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!

cogndîr – bowman Nandorin

aran – king (also translates as ‘Lord’ for it means the ruler of a realm, not just royalty)

ellon/elleth – elf male/female

morben – moriquendi Quenya

calben – caliquendi Quenya

Dan – one of the Danwaith or Dan, the original name for those that stayed with Lenwë on the banks of the Anduin

hirdan – master smith (wright, maker, whatever profession)

gwend – friendship (from gwedh – to bind)