SCENE XVII

[Scene: Orodreth and Guilin are in the royal apartments, Orodreth sitting at his desk, Guilin in the midst of imparting some unfortunate circumstance to him:]

Guilin:

…breach in security. A warg seems to have broken through and gone on a rampage down the Narog. Berendor, the head of Security … missed him, I suppose.

[Orodreth sighs and looks tired.]

Orodreth:

                Is the … breach now quelled?

Guilin:

Yes: I think Adanedhel went in with a small squad of elves and trapped it. It is dead now. I think he killed it – with his black sword.

                [pause]

                Sire, this is another of the multiple problems we have head with the Head of Sec-

Orodreth: [looks cross]

                Yes, yes. I know.

                [he sighs again; pause]

Guilin: [tentatively:]

                Sire, Gwindor was ever so much more effective; before he left to the Unnumbered Tears.

                [Orodreth looks up at him.]

Orodreth:

Yes… well do I know it. I had to put someone in haste, when he left – and Berendor seemed like a good choice.

                [he smiles grimly]

I was wrong about that, as I know see. A more incompetent head of Security I have never experienced. We need someone with ability and intelligence there again.

                [pause]

                I will consider it, but say nothing to Gwindor as yet.

Guilin:

                Thank you, lord.

                [The door opens and Finduilas comes in, and looks surprised to see someone there.]

Finduilas:

                Oh, excuse me, lord Guilin.

Orodreth:

                No, it is all right, Finduilas. Come in.

Guilin:

                I was just leaving –

[Finduilas curtseys to him and he nods as he departs and shuts the door behind him. Finduilas comes over to her father’s desk.]

Orodreth:

                So what have you been doing today, dear?

Finduilas:

                Out walking the grounds with Gwindor. The snow is melting now, and it is so lovely…

                [she pauses, looking troubled]

Father, I am concerned about Gwindor. He – he seems so sad often, and I try to comfort him, and he smiles at me and calls me Faelivrin still…

[she turns slightly pink at this last part]

Orodreth: [slowly:]

                Well, Finduilas … he was in Angband, for a long time.

                [tears come to her eyes, and she nods, biting them back]

Finduilas:

I know … That’s why I want so much for him to get better. I think if he had some vocation or work to do it would turn his mind from his sorrow.

Orodreth: [nods]

Yes. That is why lord Guilin came here. I have been considering asking Gwindor to take up his old job as the Head of Security – he always was very astute and thorough at it.

                [Finduilas looks delighted.]

Finduilas:

                Oh Father, he would be so pleased if you would ask him! I know it would help him so

much.

Orodreth:

                Indeed, but I do not know if he will assent.

                [Finduilas’ delight is cut short.]

Finduilas:

                But – why would he not?

Orodreth: [shrugs]

                I am not saying he will not; but there is always that possibility.

Finduilas:

He is looking slightly better than he did when he first came here – less pale. I think once we begin to set up plans for the wedding –

                [Orodreth looks up at her sharply.]

Orodreth:

                Wedding?

Finduilas: [wide-eyed]

Yes. I think he felt too shy, or perhaps – uncertain, to speak to me of it again; but I still wear my silver ring and I showed it to him, and told him I had worn it all these years, waiting for him: and why should we wait any longer?

                [she lowers her head and speaks softly:]

                Tears came to his eyes when I said that and he clasped me to him.

                [shaking her head]

                I am so much taller than he now.

Orodreth: [gently:]

                Finduilas, you do not have to. Do not feel like you must –

Finduilas: [turns on him, affronted:]

Father, how could you say such a thing? Of course I do not do it because I must. I love him just as much as ever I did before. He has not changed – he is the same person inside. Just because he looks different means nothing about his true self.

Orodreth: [sighs; softly:]

                He is different, Finduilas. I do not know if he shall ever be the same.

                [pause]

                His time in Angband has left scars on his mind –

                [This makes Finduilas angry.]

Finduilas:

                He is not a spy of Morgoth! How could you even say –

Orodreth:

I did not say it, and I do not; for I do not think it. I mean that he still holds memories of that dark place in his mind, and it is difficult to erase. He has lost his sense of humour; he seems listless and unconcerned…

Finduilas: [miserable:]

                Yes, and his gloomy friend does not help anything either. He is so dark and sad…

Orodreth: [smiles sadly]

                I think Gwindor will heal in time. Wait, and help him, and I think that time will come.

Finduilas:

                Well, I hope you will ask him soon about his position.

Orodreth:

                Actually, I will speak with him now. Would you bring him here?

Finduilas:

Yes, and I would like to continue with the marriage preparations where we left off when he left.

Orodreth: [quiet:]

                Very well, dear. It is your decision.

                [Finduilas nods and leaves the room.]

                [Scene change: Gwindor and Túrin are walking down the hall together.]

Gwindor:

                Here. The library should be down here.

[They turn a corner and enter two great doors. Behind them is a huge marble room, filled with books and scrolls from floor to roof. It is a very bright room, since there are glass windows all across the very high ceiling.]

You should find what you are looking for in here.

[Túrin looks around him in awe. Finduilas and Guilin are already in the library looking at things. When she sees them she comes over to them.]

Finduilas:

                Gwindor! Adanedhel –

                [nodding to him; then turning back to Gwindor:]

                I was looking for you.

Gwindor: [smiles]

                Adanedhel and I were talking in my room, Faelivrin.

Finduilas:

Well, I wanted to ask your opinion about something my father and I were discussing, and could not agree on whether…

                [They walk off together, and Túrin goes over to where Guilin stands nearby.]

Túrin:

Lord Guilin, could you tell me where I might find a book on the war tactics of mortal northern tribes?

Guilin: [looks up at him:]

                Ah, greetings, Adanedhel! Yes, just over here.

                [He leads him over to the other side of the room, and points to a shelf full of books.]

This is what we have. Sadly we are lacking in that area since… few tales have come to us of late of the mortal tribes of the North.

                [He looks awkward. Túrin nods but says nothing, and begins looking at the books.]

The most we have concerns the Bëorings, for – Finrod, the – the King’s brother, dealt much with them. But we have less concerning the people of Hador and Haleth.

Túrin:

                Thank you.

[He takes a book from the shelf and sits down on a bench nearby, and begins to read it. He is left in peace for a little while, but in a moment Guilin comes over to him again.]

Guilin: [softly:]

                Adanedhel, may I speak with you for a moment?

Túrin:

                Certainly.

                [He sets his book down and moves over to make room. Guilin sits beside him.]

Guilin:

I notice that my son seems very close to you, and … I am concerned about him. These past few weeks he has seemed much better than he once did: he has more strength, and colour, and seems more vibrant and joyful; and I think that is much due to Finduilas –

[he looks over and they see Gwindor and Finduilas talking at the other end of the library, and laughing together]

– the Valar bless her. But I am afraid he is holding all of his memories inside himself. He has spoken to me of naught that has befallen him in his time away.

                [pause; he seems to be waiting for Túrin to answer]

Túrin:

He has spoken to me of his life these past years; but it is very hard for him to speak of it. I do not think that he wishes to hide anything from you: rather, he wishes to guard you from pain at the description of his experiences.

[Guilin looks thoughtful.]

Guilin:

And when you found him – or he found you, I know not which it was – how was he? Is he much improved from that time?

                [There is a pause; Túrin looks away]

Túrin: [troubled:]

                I … I know not. I … do not recall much of that time. I was not…

                [he stops. Seeing his troubled countenance, Guilin does not press it.]

Guilin:

I … his brother, Gelmir, suffered the same fate, save that Gwindor tells me – he was slain. But Gwindor will tell me no details of his escape, and I do not wish to press it. Has he told you aught that you are willing to tell me?

                [Túrin looks at him with pity.]

Túrin:

He told me … that he was forced to labour in the mines, forging swords and mail and armour for the armies of Morgoth. He always had in his mind plans for escape, but could never execute them for … he was watched at all times. Yet one day, in the forge, he met another Elf of Hithlum, who also desired to escape. They spoke together in mind speech, and slew the Orcs that guarded them with the hammers that they used for work. With their scalding brands they cut loose the chains about their legs, and followed the labyrinthine tunnels, with which they had become very familiar in their years there. Thus Gwindor escaped onto the plains of Anfauglith, but I believe his companion was slain ere he could flee.

[There is a long pause. Guilin is looking down and Túrin cannot see his face.]

Guilin: [slowly:]

I had wondered. He is so altered from the way he had been when he left for the War – tall, strong, valiant in battle.

                [He shudders.]

I had wondered why he declined the position of Head of Security that once he had, that the King offered him once again.

Túrin: [softly:]

                His strength is less than it used to be. He is weary, and wishes for no more war.

[Túrin looks over at Gwindor’s bent form at the other end of the room with pity in his eyes. Guilin nods but does not answer. Just then the door of the library opens and the Lady from the feast in Scene XV, followed by a male Scholar, evidently her friend, enter the library. In a moment they see Túrin and she flutters over to them.]

Lady:

                Lord Adanedhel.

                [to her friend:]

This is the mortal that I was telling you about, whom I met at the Lord Gwindor’s return feast – Adanedhel.

Scholar: [looking at Túrin as if he were some science project]

                Fascinating! He looks just like one of us – of the Noldor of Fingolfin’s House, maybe.

Lady:

That is just what I thought at first; and then he told me he was a Man and I was so amazed.

Scholar:

                And he is the warrior, too, with the black sword?

Lady:

Oh, yes; he talked about that at the feast, too. We thought it might be some sort of obsidian rock, mixed with iron and ash…

[As they continue to talk about him as if we were not there, Guilin, looking embarrassed for them, gets up and gets another book from the shelf, handing to Túrin, who sits there with a mild, slightly amused expression on his face.

Guilin: [to Túrin, trying to divert him from the conversation, clearing his throat:]

This book concerns the people of Bëor, and their war tactics after the Dagor Bragollach. It might interest you –

                [The lady and her friend stop speaking.]

Scribe: [to Guilin, covertly patronizing:]

                Lord Guilin, do not embarrass him. He probably cannot read.

                [Guilin lifts one eyebrow and gives him a look.]

Túrin: [mildly:]

                Do not worry. I learned both the runes of Daeron and of Fëanor in my youth.

                [The scribe appears both surprised and please at hearing him speak.]

Scribe:

Excuse me, lord. I misjudged you. But what a lovely accent you have. I have studied the various pronunciations and accents among the peoples of Beleriand, and it reminds me of the Doriathrin.

                [Túrin does not answer. The Scribe turns to his friend.]

– Very similar to the lilt of the Laiquendi, I found, though it has branched off from it considerably…

[While they continue their discourse on the various tongues of Beleriand, Guilin nudges Túrin, who takes this opportunity to sneak away with his book, leaving Guilin to hold them at bay. Túrin finds Gwindor and Finduilas at the other end of the library. Seeing him coming:]

Gwindor: [to Túrin:]

Ah, T – Adanedhel, Finduilas has told me that she is going to have a party – two months from now, I believe.

Finduilas: [nods]

                You are invited as well, if you desire to come.

Túrin: [bows his head]

                Thank you.

Gwindor:

There shall be music and feasting and much dancing as well. You should prepare a song to play for us.

Túrin: [smiles sadly]

                I am sorry, I do not play.

Gwindor:

                That is well. You may listen, as do the others.

Finduilas:

                Gwindor, you and I may just listen to the music; there is no need for us to play.

Gwindor: [rueful smile]

                I do not think I shall be dancing much either.

[Finduilas does not answer, but looks sad. She tries to smile at him, and clasps his gnarled hand in hers.]

[Scene change: Orodreth and the Steward talking together in the Council Chamber. It is a large room with marble walls, and a long carven table in its midst. They are alone; the Steward is sitting at the table, Orodreth is walking back and forth beside it. The Steward looks shocked.]

Steward:

                I – I had not thought that he would refuse the position.

Orodreth: [sighs]

                I had thought he might. Perhaps it is better that way.

                [The Steward looks at him warily.]

Steward:

                You do not think that…?

Orodreth: [waving his hand in dismissal]

                No, no, and I have already told you to say no more of it.

Steward: [nods]

                Yes, sire.

Orodreth:

I merely think … Gwindor seems to weary so much more easily now. He is not forward in arms. I think the elves on the marches would accept him for love of him, and welcome in back; but his authority among them would soon wane, merely because of his – physical condition, and his ability to fight well anymore, than for aught else. But … he is one of our best leaders, or was. I asked if I might ask him again in a year, if he would consider the position at that time.

[pause]

Steward:

                And what did he say?

Orodreth:

                He said yes, I could ask him again in a year.

                [sighs]

I suppose Berendor will be all right until then, if we continuing monitoring every move he makes. I have asked Lord Guilin to help me with that. If only I had known he was so incompetent before I placed him there…

Steward:

                We were in such haste, lord, to find a replacement when Gwindor did not return.

Orodreth:

                I know. ‘Tis same with Telemnar, the Captain, when… my brother left.

                [sighs]

                Well, we must do out best ‘til we can find another. Come, I have some plans to show you.

                [He heads out of the hall, the Steward behind him. Scene fades out.]