Written for the GenFic Swap where I was assigned to write a story for Tehta and Zhie using the prompts Saeros and a Vineyard in Vinyamar. Enjoy!

Many thanks to Fiondil for correcting the fiddley bits and to Istarnie for the immensely useful info on Saeros.

Disclaimer: Playing in Tolkien’s sandbox and making no money from it.

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All columns and straight lines.

Steeply structured, precisely crafted, molded, hewn, and sculpted.

Always bending everything to the will of those who would command rock and stone, tree and limb, metal and clay.

Always commanding the land and life around them as if the crafters know best how all should appear.

Always neat ordered rows.

The orchestrated, finely-shaped regulation sickened him with its unnatural disregard for the right order of things, the way things came of their own before Anor and Ithil polluted the sky and obscured the stars, before all was tainted by over-brightness and the presence and the hands of the Lechenn.

The Nando looked about himself in disgust, but the smug Noldo babbled on oblivious, gesturing grandly about the vineyards, explaining the harvesting and storage processes to the visitors from Doriath as if they were mere children who should stand in awe of the works of the superior, skilled adults. The whole tour of Vinyamar had been like this – a long and arduous day, full of arrogant pride in the works of Noldorin hands. After seeing towering building after towering building with arches and peaks which do not grow of their own, but are made by hands, it should have come as no surprise that the Noldor even ordered the lives of their plants and trees. But the way in which they trapped and captured even the wholesome bodies of living plants and trained them to their own designs was appalling!

When King Thingol asked Saeros to join his embassy to the lands of the Noldor, Saeros eagerly accepted, wishing to see for himself how these pompous Elves lived. Thingol, in his wisdom and friendship with the Nandor who dwelt among his folk of Doriath, always made certain to consult with the chieftain of the Nandor on many matters, and diplomacy with foreigners was one of them. As the chieftain’s son, Saeros was honor-bound to go and report to his puissant adar as well as to the King of Doriath all that he saw and heard. But the things he had seen and heard so far assaulted his very fëa with their aberrations. These condescending princes of the West seemed to revel in their own magnificence and flaunt it before their kinsmen who never left Ennor, lording it over those whom they deemed to be of lesser make than themselves.

Why did the Lechenn think themselves so mighty because they left the trees and starry glory of Ennor when all they seemed to have to show for it was the ability to impose their designs on the world around them and build their own trees of stone?

Yes, Menegroth was hewn from the earth by skilled hands with many finely-sculpted pillars and woven tapestries, but it reflected the life and glory of the forest and the natural way of things, intertwining them into that which was made by hand. But what the Noldor had done, loftily building and constructing, reaching toward the sky in gaudy displays of their arrogance…

Why even the sea itself seemed desperate to be away from the sands and storied stone of Vinyamar! Surely the sea was not always moving in endless undulations, but the Noldor annoyed it so much with their presence just like they annoyed the Elves of Ennor.

It defied all sense of reason.

And what these Elves from across the sea had done to these poor plants in the name of making drink…

Was all of Aman so ordered and so…unelvish?

No wonder they left Valinor and returned to Ennor, having learned the folly of their leaving in the first place!

Glancing around once again, pity stirred in Saeros’ heart as the guide led them down yet another neatly restricted row of plants. Consolingly Saeros reached out and stroked the leaves of one of the bushy vines heavily laden with tight bunches of tiny grapes. Poor things, he mused sadly, so constricted that they could not grow to full potential.

“My Lord Saeros,” the guide offered brightly upon ending his relentless lecture. “Please, do taste some. They are quite delicious.”

Giving a courteous nod to the guide, Saeros whispered words of gratitude in his ancient Nandorintongue for the offering of the plant, then gently plucked a few of the pathetically diminutive grapes. He eyed them doubtfully before cautiously biting into one and chewing.

Utter sweetness exploded in his mouth, delighting his tongue! Smiling in wonder at the generous offering of such a tiny fruit, he quickly devoured the rest of the grapes in his hand.

“Please try some as well,” the guide gestured, beaming at the rest of the group, inviting them all to indulge.

Obviously pleased by the expressions on the faces of his guests and their complimentary comments, the guide proceeded to draw a skin and some cups from the leather bag he carried on his shoulder. Pouring some wine for each of them, he passed the cups around.

“Now taste the glory that the fruit of this vine becomes.”

Saeros eyed critically the deep red liquid, swirling it in the vessel before pressing the cup to his lips. Taking a sip to cleanse his palate and then a larger mouth-full, he sighed as bold, fruity pleasure filled him, caressing his throat as he swallowed. He took another appreciative drink, savoring every drop. Glancing around, he noticed the rest of his entourage reaping the same joys as he. His adar would be delighted with such a beverage and King Thingol himself certainly would be well-pleased to receive this offering from the West into his halls. Perhaps some sort of trade agreement could be reached involving this wine?

For all of their pride and sculpted arrogance, the Noldor definitely had achieved greatness in this matter at least.

Upon draining his cup, Saeros speculated aloud, “Would you not be better served to allow the grapes to grow larger before harvesting them to produce the wine? It would seem that fewer grapes would be required and you could increase production.”

“Ah, but it is the small size which concentrates the sweetness in each succulent offering. Larger ones, we have found, do not produce the same tantalizing result as small grapes.”

“I see,” Saeros replied.

“And there are other factors which affect the taste of the individual fruit, such as the amount of rainfall, and the warmth and coolness of the air during growing season. The placement of this vineyard on the slopes of this mountain was intentional. For example, the vineyards in the Calacirya near Tirion on the slopes of …”

But Saeros was no longer listening to the speaker. Focusing instead on the feel of the land itself, he concentrated on the music of the plants around him and the rhythmic hum of the life of the vines. Long he listened to the plants, communing with them about the sweetness of their children and the abundant fruitfulness of their vines, gaining a deeper understanding than the loquacious Noldo seemed able to impart about the needs of the vines to produce the sweetest and greatest abundance of grapes. Oddly enough, the pulse of the sea seemed to lie beneath all that he sensed around him and beneath him, calling to him with a subtlety which stirred his fëa in a way he had not known before.

Shaking himself, he blinked and looked around, aware once again of his comrades and the bothersome Noldo.

“I conclude with an invitation from my gracious King Turuc- …Turgon who bade me tell you he extends his sincere wishes that you all join him in a feast this evening to begin just after sunset. I understand that you folk of the woods deem yourselves gifted in song and the making of music. We shall share our melodies and compositions on various instruments to entertain you after we complete our repast. Then perhaps, you will share some of your … quaint songs with us?”

Saeros seethed as did the others in the group, but he nodded politely, forcing a smile at the Noldo’s condescending tone, knowing his adar and Thingol would expect no less in the face of such an insult, especially when the Third Clan was known for its skill in music.

“We would be honored to feast with your king and share our songs with you,” Saeros replied with forced graciousness.

“Excellent,” the guide remarked, “If you will follow me, I will show you the way back to the city proper and to your rooms.”

As they left the vineyard and started down the cobblestone road toward Vinyamar with its great spires and high white walls looming before them, Saeros cast his mind back to the song he heard among the vines. His gait changed to accommodate the steady rhythm of the sea and the gentle melody of the plants that resonatedwithin him. As his arms swung at his sides, his fingers began to move, stroking an unseen harp, plucking out the melody of what he felt around him.

Back in Doriath, he and his friend Daeron often played together, Daeron on flute and he on harp, calling forth the sounds of the forest and the strum of the music which permeated the land. Their duets were quite popular in Thingol’s court with fair Lúthienoften dancing in accompaniment with them to the delight of all. Although Daeron and Lúthien were not here with him now, he would still play his harp tonight. The Noldor may have learned much from the Belain in Valinor, but there was much they had forgotten and the ability to listen to the land and become one with it in sense and song were obviously among the gifts they had lost – if they ever possessed them.

Tonight, he would educate those who sought to teach him lessons he cared not for. Tonight, he would show them in song what they had forgotten. Tonight, he would play the music of vineyards of Vinyamar and show the mighty Noldor what it meant to be an Elf in Ennor and to play music as only a true Elf can.

Pompous princes of the West, indeed.

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Notes:

Lechenn (plural): “flame eyes” a term used by those who never sailed to describe those from Valinor. Refers to the light of the Two Trees which is reflected in the eyes of those who have seen them. Not a complimentary term.

Adar: father

Fëa: spirit

Belain: Valar