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Chapter Twenty-Three – A Singular Delivery

Rhiss paused before the service door that led out of the rulers’ private parlor.  He rested the tip of the tall bow he carried atop the toe of his shoe and took a deep breath in anticipation of what he reasonably figured lay in store for him beyond in the busy back halls of the palace.  The news about Cogndîr Hrassa’s return had spread swiftly, and Rhiss was the only one of the pages on call this night who had not made himself scarce at the approaching sound of Lady Elrovail’s voice.  For no one else wished to be tapped to aid this particular guest.

On the way to the Meadow Room, he had heard a great many opinions, and most of those opinions were angry.  So, his compatriots’ precautionary disappearance had turned out not to be all that unwise.  A mean disregard was rapidly compounding against Celeborn's bowman.  Rhiss could now anticipate there would be those who would not think twice about taking out their ire on a lowly page just for carrying the belongings of someone considered a deserter.  However, his personal safety did not concern him as much as preventing any more hard knocks to the aged bow he so carefully held.

This marvel of craftsmanship and its owner were legend come to life.  Here was literally proof-in-hand of the fireside tales told to him from birth, the lore that was central to Silvan upbringing.  Here was positive evidence of the powerful secrets attributed to the great hunters of the Nandor, his people’s predecessors.  Secrets of which many had been lost by their heirs.

He slid his grip over the swooping curve of the bow, in awe of the soothing sensation of the ancient wood against his palm and fingers.  It was warm to the touch, even where his hand had not yet caressed it.  Ennin old... remarkably unmarred... and it seemed... awake... as if taught the trick of dreaming with open eyes.  He breathed a sigh of wonder.  Cold would never freeze it.  Rain would never warp it.  Sunlight would never scorch it.  Only the demise of its master could break it.

Nevertheless, it was not invulnerable to harm, and he had ineptly dropped it once already.  Which is once too many times! he scolded himself.  Were it to suffer the slightest scratch while in his care, well then he – as his father’s son – would be mortified!  Moreover, this errand would be his last on behalf of the cogndîr.  Not something he wished for, though others might.  Aside from which, the Lord Celeborn was counting on him to deliver it and all Hrassa’s belongings intact.

So, no slacking now!  He drew a bracing breath, holding it taut as if taking slow aim.  He must be more than light on his feet, as his Grandfather had been wont to say.  Being small but quick must be put to advantage.  He must evade being trampled or pushed around, even if fleeing an altercation would appear cowardly.  Because, that was the canny thing to do.

Releasing the pent breath in a huff of determination, he pushed through the door; careful not to let it flap too wide and possibly hit his backside on its return swing.  As had happened on his arrival – lesson learned.  No sooner was he in the narrow serving station, which opened onto the back corridor at the other end, then he was confronted by a scowling Golfod, effectively blocking any further passage forward.

Admittedly, he gulped as he looked up at the imposing ellon.  But at least, he stood his ground without shaking.  His courage earned him nothing save a single eyebrow raised in annoyance.

“Come on, lad,” grumbled Golfod.  “Let us get you to where you are going... ”  And forthwith, the wine-steward's lieutenant turned round and exited into the hallway, just assuming Rhiss would be right behind.

Which at first he was not.  The uncompromising cupbearer did not mean to harass, but to help?  It took a few seconds to recover from the surprise before he quickly sprang after.

They joined the swift-moving current of servants, each of whom was bent on accomplishing their own task, at first without any nuisance.  But then, a lanky server, a tray laden with drinks and food expertly balanced high over his head, came striding swiftly from the opposite direction.  Whether intentionally or unintentionally, as the ellon avoided bumping into others, he was veering towards Rhiss.  Golfod however saw the potential threat and effectively blocked the fellow’s errant tack.  If there were to be an accident, it would be Golfod who got soaked.  The server swung away.  The bland expression upon the ellon’s face remained unchanged during this swervy maneuver, but Golfod’s expression did not.  His habitual scowl of disapproval turned disgusted.

From then on, the cupbearer actively warded off everyone whom he thought came too close to his defenseless charge.  Sometimes, he protected with raised arms, as if bearing an invisible shield and sword.  Once in particular, when a handmaid held Rhiss in a singularly hateful stare while passing.  Then at other times, his arms encircled, like the sheltering wings of a mother hen.  Yet, not one harsh word was said by Golfod to any he warded off – nor by any to him.

Thus, Rhiss arrived entirely unscathed, although a bit flabbergasted, in the foyer below the guest quarters.

With the grand event going on, one would expect for the room to be empty.  However, two ellyn, both also servants, loitered near the butler's station.  He paid little heed to them though for his attention was on his guardian – who lead him to the middle of the chamber and abruptly announced that here was where he was going to leave Rhiss to go the rest of the way on his own.

Appreciative of the cupbearer’s kind aid, and greatly encouraged by having made it through the worst part of his necessary route without mishap, he very much wished to thank Golfod.  But, effusiveness was deemed inappropriate in servants.  Unlike with Celeborn Aran, no leave from that tenet did he feel from Golfod Sôggyll.  So, he expressed his enormous gratitude in as reserved a manner as he knew how, only in conclusion daring to be candid.

“For I was, sir, greatly worried for the safety of the bow.”  Not my own safety, do you see?  Because truth was, he dreaded being judged a frightened child when he was not.

“You should not have been given this task in the first place,” was Golfod's stiff opinion. 

Which snipped Rhiss’ budding new respect for the formidable ellon.  Apparently, the cupbearer’s protection was not an act of kindness but of protest.  He disapproved of a fellow servant being burdened unfairly for one of so young and inexperience.  Still, whatever the motive, Rhiss was grateful – if simply for another good lesson: look more closely at any offer of help.

“Your cohorts will not praise you for having accomplished your task either.”

“As you say, sir.  But, I will not be carrying the bow then.”  Meaning that then he would have leeway to defend himself.  And I shall.  It would not be the first time he fought with one of them that enjoyed bullying newly-enrolled lads.

“Hmph,” was all the response he got before Golfod strode away.

The curt reply had contained no admonishment, which was not that strange.  As did most Sindarin-Galadhrim, the cupbearer obviously disapproved more of disorder than of violence.  Fighting was an acceptable means to a peaceful end.  Reaffirming Rhiss’ early-on conclusion that his Grandfather would not get along very well with most High-elves.  It was just as well that few, if any, of his kin would ever come to Ost-in-Edhil.

All the while, the other two ellyn had been covertly watching, while still holding their own conversation.  Just as Rhiss set foot for the stairs, there was an authoritative snap of the fingers.  Trained as he was to check at the sound of any signal meant to get one’s attention, he automatically halted and looked over.

They were unknown to him.  He had never been introduced to either nor knew them from their having been pointed out before now.  One moved to stand behind the butler’s desk, and he waved for Rhiss to come over.  A quick glance showed the bell-rope behind the station significantly unknotted.  He could not remember if it had been so upon arrival, but that was of no matter now, when by all appearances the fellow was the assigned butler.  He had to answer the summons.  Any servant within any butler’s domain had to obey him, even if of equal rank.  However, it was the other fellow, who had remained in front of the desk, that spoke when Rhiss came and stood before them.

“These are Cogndîr Hrassa’s things?  Well, you may leave them here and go have fun.”

“Beg pardon, sir.  I am to deliver his things directly to his room.”  It was not that unusual for more senior servants to take over a task, if it suited them.  But, Rhiss wanted to be the one called upon by the bowman in the future and had no wish to relinquish that possibility to another.  Especially this fellow.  He did not like this ellon at all.  The fellow’s cordiality felt false.

“No need, lad.  I shall see to it.”

The rebellious ill manners he constantly warred against jealously hissed.  It was presumptuous that this one should give orders with the butler standing right there.  If he himself had spoken out of turn like that, his captain would have rightly slapped him for it.  Well, so maybe I can’t talk back, but neither must I give in.

“Did you hear me, son?  Just leave it here.”

“Beg pardon, sir.”  I am not your son!  “The Lady ordered me.”  He was beginning to feel as ill-used as Golfod had thought him.  Certainly, he sat low in the rank and order, and he was new at his job.  But, deserved a little consideration, if not respect.  And, he was not stupid!  This fellow planned to make the bowman’s things go missing!

“Lady Elrovail – “

“Beg pardon, sir, the Lady Galadriel.”

“The Lady Galadriel?  She spoke to you?”  The ellon did not recover from his disconcert quickly enough to keep it from being seen.

“Yes, sir.  The look on your face!  “I am to deliver Cogndîr Hrassa’s gear to his room and give him her personal message.”  He hoped for a chance to cause that look again.

“Ah... well... good lad.  Still, I shall help you.”  Having failed at one way to cause mischief, the fellow was fishing for another.  “Give to me the bow and quiver to carry for you.  The cogndîr will not appreciate your rough handling of them.”

“Beg pardon, sir.”  This bow will not leave my hand!!  “The Lord Celeborn did say that I was handling it correctly.”

Both ellyn abruptly jerked to attention as if the lord-general of Eregion’s armed-forces had actually entered the room.  Rhiss could barely keep a proper expression upon his face, such was his delight at their alarm.

“Lord Celeborn?  He spoke to you?”

“Yes, sir.  He instructed me himself.”  Ha! Criticize me; you criticize him!  As if you’d dare!

The butler burst out laughing.  Up to this point, the ellon had stayed silent, but observing the exchange with keen interest.

“Leave off, Angwedhon,” he with apparent bemusement.  “Clearly, the Lord and Lady do not hold Hrassa’s absence against him, even if you do.”  Giving a congratulatory smile to Rhiss as the victor, he told him, “Lady Elrovail has decided to put him in the smaller guest room in the family wing.  Can you find your way to there?”

“Yes, sir.”  Luckily only a few days ago, he had been given a tour of the family living quarters as part of his training.  At the time, he had resigned himself to never seeing inside the place again.  That he might return was even more thrilling than had been the prospect of going into the rulers’ exclusive parlor!

“Perhaps I should take you – ”.

“No need, sir, I know the way.”  He did not want this ellon to come with him either.  The fellow had said nothing to Golfod when present and not made any effort to convey the change in Hrassa’s location until the cupbearer was gone.

“How shall I call you, lad?” the second potential conspirator queried, still acting quite friendly.  

“Rhiss... ”  Outwardly, he smiled; also quite friendly, careful not show any mistrust.  But inside, he was sickened at having to act as dishonestly as they.

“Then proceed, young Rhiss, and afterwards please report back here to me.  Whether or not you are sent on another errand.”

“Yes, sir.”  Oh no, I won’t!  But if he did not report back, he would certainly be reprimanded.  Therefore, he decided that he would instead report to the page-captain-on-duty and say what had happened to cause him to disobey.  That would mitigate some of his punishment.  He hoped so anyway.  He wished that Golfod had stayed with him.  The cupbearer could have handed out the treatment these two deserved with impunity.

“Well, get on with it, lad,” prompted the butler with a shooing motion.

He left them, his jaw clenched tight.  Angwedhon gave him a sharp parting glance ere picking up the pair's conversation about the quality of the city’s summer water supply where previously left off.

He carefully ascended the sweeping staircase to the top where, now out of sight, he stopped and silently heaved a deep sigh.  His short errand was becoming quite a journey.  Although still fixed, his desire to serve the cogndîr was not as profound as it had been when he willingly took on this task.

He had never before had to deal with this sort of intrigue and malice, especially from regular people.  It was exciting, to be sure.  But, to have to face this kind of duplicity everyday?  Was this what it would be like working for the cogndîr?  Can I stand up to it?  Do I want to?  He tried to think on it the way his Grandfather might have.  Which was rather futile considering he did not possess his Grandfather's wisdom.  I miss you more than ever, Daerada!  Most amongst all his family, remaining and departed.

But now was not the time to indulge in melancholy.  He consciously shook off the sudden pang of homesickness, squaring his shoulders as best he could under their burden.  His duty was not yet done.  Nose back on the scent, you!

On that adamant order to himself, he set off for the family wing.  It took no time at all to travel the deserted upper passage to finally arrive at the destination of his delivery.

At this hour, the chairs and benches in the long hallway were of course empty, and the double doors situated at the far end were shut.  Before the crested doors stood a lone sentry.  The grey-liveried guard wore no armour.  He barred entry lightly equipped with a polished but simple spear; held at regulation angle out from his side, his other hand neatly tucked behind his back.  A belt-knife was his only other weapon.  At least, the only other weapon to be seen.  Rhiss knew better than to think that the nattily-dressed sentry was mere ostentation.  No more than were the Lord and Lady’s more circumspect bodyguards.

This ellon too was one of the chosen elite of the herth: those directly responsible for the safety of Eregion’s rulers, along with the princess and other close members of their household.  Each and every one was a deft and deadly fighter.  The solitary door-warden’s confident bearing only confirmed that fact.  Becoming a member of that cadre would have been an admirable aspiration for any common-born elfling.  Except, Rhiss knew himself to be no warrior.  And as it was, another prerequisite was to be of certifiable Eldarin descent.  No one saw that as a particularly unjust requirement though, since all matters within a realm must bend to royal preference.

He stopped before the sentry, a respectable three paces away, looking up expectedly at him.

“Your business,” was the genteel challenge – more genteel then he expected.

“To deliver Cogndîr Hrassa’s luggage and a message to him from the Lady Galadriel.”  His answer came out in a bit of a rush, embarrassingly allowing his nervousness to show.  Thinking of the number of troublemakers he had already encountered, he suddenly worried the warrior might feel him suspect.  He certainly would have.

“Very good,” was the polite reply.  The spear retracted and was switched to the other hand.  With a friendly wave, the guard invited Rhiss to proceed.

He blinked.  As easy as that?  This was the Lord and Lady’s private home, after all.

By means of a frank look, the guard let him know that he knew the truth had been spoken.  Else, he would not let him leave, let alone let him by.

Which, Rhiss realized, was precisely why Angwedhon had been hanging about in the foyer and not anywhere upstairs where he might have been seen and questioned.  A valuable lesson refreshed: ordinary protocols were always more than they at first seemed.

As Rhiss came up even with him, the guard casually leaned down; using his hands to hang off his spear in a stooped fashion, as might a gossipy wanderer from the Greenwood.

“He’s in the third guest chamber,” said the ellon in the woodland tongue and without any hint of an accent.  “But, herself ‘s treating his hurt.  Ere you go in, make some clatter.  So as to let ‘em know aforehand.”  He winked, without even the shadow of a smile crossing his face.  “Lest you intrude.”

Rhiss numbly nodded in acknowledgement of these instructions.  He was a little taken aback, but not because of the cloaked warning.  Although an innocent, he was not ignorant about what pleasures adults indulged in.  And he had heard plenty about the indulgences of the notorious noble lady.  No, he was taken aback by the ordinary speech.  That the sentry had spotted him for a Silvan was not that startling.  Anyone might see that about him.  However, there had been no clue that the chosen warrior shared the same heritage as he.

The cwenda did quirk a quick smile then, before stepping forward to silently pull open the door for him to enter in.  Just as quietly, it was closed after him.  Here on the inside, there was no one to be seen in the dim night-hours illumination and no sound save the burbling spill of water in the unseen fountain.

Once again, he had to pause, take a deep breath, and get his bearings.

Would anyone have ever thought to see a Silvan as a palace guard?  Not me.  A wide grin involuntarily bloomed upon his face.  Dûrcef!  His equally commoner friend’s wish to be in the household guard had an actual chance of coming true!  If a former so-called savage, then why not a former gutter-rat!  The thought that he could bring this news to the struggling cadet, the first real friend he had made in this foreign place, was very pleasing.

With that happy thought lifting his spirits, he took a few paces forward into the pale light cast down from above into the sunken atrium.  He stopped and stood before the balustrade gates at the top of the descending stair to gaze around, appreciating all the more where he was – in yet another place where few were allowed and many would envy his presence.

From this spot, he could see down the stairs before him directly into the atrium with its round fountain and jumble of potted plants.  The lush space was squared by windowless walls and crowned with stylish railing.  Overhead, starlight shone down through a high-domed skylight of crystal and silver.  During the day, the sunlight poured in, brightly lighting both levels.  He could see on through the filigree first floor gates of the atrium, opposite and across from the foot of the stair, into the entrance hall that let out onto the garden.  Directly across from him on the second floor, he could see through open doors into the family sitting-room and onto the balcony, which overlooked the same garden.  Beyond the palace’s high walls were the lights of the city.  It was a beautiful view.

To his right, another set of double-doors opened into the princess’ nursery.  Wait, one is suppose to call that a parlor too.  And, he amusedly reminded himself, she does not like for anyone to call it a schoolroom either.  Celebrían’s parlor directly connected to her bed chamber, which lay behind that room.  The dim hallways on each side of the parlor, marking the width of the room, led to her parents’ apartments and her nanny’s chamber.  On his left, on the opposite side of the atrium opening, matching double-doors were closed, and likely locked, for that was a private library.  The hallways on either side of that room led to guest chambers and other family quarters.  The guest rooms were off the first corridor, immediately to his left.  The farther corridor led to several well-appointed apartments, one of which was the Lord Celebrimbor’s.

There was a large bath at the end of the wing for those who did not have the luxury of a private bath.  The lesser guest rooms, including the one which Hrassa had been given, did not.

Going left, down the hall to the bowman’s assigned door, Rhiss knocked firmly and received no answer.  He listened closely... but, there was no sound.  He knocked again, louder... and nothing.  So, he entered; actually relieved to find the room empty, especially the narrow bed.  From a corner of the room, a tiny lamp suspended by a shiny chain cast a soft blue light.  Which was more than enough for a born forest-dweller to see by.

Carefully unburdening himself of gear, Rhiss first laid out everything upon the bed.  Since he was not exactly sure what he should do with it, he decided to arrange the pieces on the flat-topped chest at the foot of the bed the same way he had found them on the upholstered bench in the alcove.  While he worked, he wondered if he would make a good valet.  Valets were privy to great goings-on as much as personal secretaries or a bowman.

Only after finishing his task did he permit himself a good look around.  One chair and an undersized table sat directly under the lamp.  There was a cramped washstand; an overhead shelf with clothes-pegs beneath.  The windowless room was really nothing more than a bed chamber with a flue-style skylight, which seemed to provide no starlight.  Quarters in the guest wing were more like undersized suites.  These sparse accommodations were rather confining in comparison.  And Lady Elrovail has put a wood-elf in here?  But, her decisions were not for a page to question.

A belt and knife lay atop the table with a pair of boots tucked beneath.  The boots were surprising.  He would have thought different, simpler shoes for a master-hunter.  However, once he realized the knife was stone, it captured all his attention.  He leaned close over it to study it as best he could without breathing on it.  The barest hint of the knapped blade was showing above the edge of its scabbard, and he figured it to be even older than the bow.  For a moment, he was lost in the detailed simplicity of the carved bone handle, before coming back to what he was suppose to be doing.

Forcing himself to turn away from the table, he noticed that a provided towel was still on the bar of the washstand, as was the bath robe on its peg.  It looked likely for both cogndîr and hiril to be in the dark-elf lady’s rooms.  He pondered what to do about the message.  The Lady had said to deliver it in person.  Should he wait?  The guard has said the bowman was injured.  If a bad injury, the two would have stayed here, where Hrassa could be left in a healing sleep.  If he was really injured at all.  Having gone off, the bowman might decide to linger with Elrovail for the rest of the night.  It looked best not to wait, but to go to the lady’s apartment immediately.  Before a delivery did become an intrusion.

However, having once given in to its fascination, Rhiss turned again to the table to gaze at the stone knife.  What little could be seen hinted at so much more hidden within.  He raised a hand and brought a pointing finger close; almost touching.  There was a not unexpected vibrancy emanating from the weapon.  For it was a weapon and a lethal one, never to be mistaken for a merely utilitarian blade pressed into other service.  Maybe the cogndîr would take it out and show it to him sometime.

“What are you doing in here?!”

The shrill accusation took him completely by surprise.  Back to the door, he had not heard anyone come in, and he practically jumped out of his skin in fright.  He spun around, uttering a single inarticulate gasp of apology for his presumption.

To see not a miffed Lady Erovail, but a child!!  Younger than he and exhibiting the self-righteous petulance only her gender could affect.  He almost started to scold her as he would his baby sister for the mean prank of scaring him silly, but then he looked into her eyes – and the glow of their leaf-green fire hushed any words.  He stepped back and bumped into the table.

The little elleth planted her fisted hands upon her hips.  Her pale hair was loose and drifted wild over her shoulders, having been lifted by the rush to confront him then left to alight where it may.  In an even more piercing tone, she demanded an answer.  “I asked you a question!” 

His mouth fell open before he could stop it.  Emerald eyes?  Silver hair?  Heryn Celebrían!!  Dressed in nothing but a very fancy nightgown.

“A better question,” intoned an annoyed voice from above, “is what are you doing in here?”

Both children’s eyes leaped upward.  A well-dressed adult elleth had suddenly materialized behind the princess, looming high over her, also with fists firmly planted on hips.  Rhiss automatically snapped to attention with eyes fixed forward.  Although, he did not achieve the requisite blank expression.  Celebrían’s head tilted all the way back onto her shoulders; her eyes open wide, their spark noticeably quenched.  Her pinched frown went slack as her lips parting in trepidation.

“Oh,” she said a bit fretfully and squirming slightly under a baleful glare of disapproval.  “You’re back.”

“Yes,” said the elleth, her eyes narrowing.  “I am.”

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

cwenda – elf (quende) Nandorin

aran – king, lord of a realm

heryn – lady or princess

hiril – lady or mistress

sôggyll – cupbearer to drink (sogo) carrier (cyll)

ennin – year/years – a Valarian year consisting of 144 sun years

ellon/elleth – elf male/female

ellyn/ellith – elves male/female