Far Horizons 2 – Afield

Glorfindel eased himself in the saddle.  It was a long time since he had spent the best part of a week on horseback and he owned to himself regretfully that he should perhaps have spent rather more time getting himself in shape for the journey.  Supplies, assembly points for meeting others of the group, outline maps, specifications for suitable sites – all those things were important, but if he found, when they set up camp, that he was too saddle sore to ride on the morrow, his so-far efficient use of time would have been wasted.  Riding for a couple of hours in good conditions was no preparation for this.

‘My lord?’  Rindor enquired politely.

‘How much further are we planning to go today?’ he was asked.

‘In the region of an hour’s ride.  We are reaching the edge of the cultivated lands where we are due to join with a group who have come from further north.’  Rindor glanced at the golden-haired elf. ‘We are intending to take a rest day tomorrow, my lord, before we ride out into the area at the foothills of the mountains used mainly by hunting parties. The intention is that the schedules can be discussed and the new members of the team may have their roles clarified to them.’

Glorfindel sighed.  Grateful as he would be for the respite, he had not realised quite how tedious aspects of this venture would be.  He had already spent more hours in discussion than he cared to recall and it looked as if there would be many more.  Just for a moment he was aware of a wave of wistfulness for the simplicity of riding on patrol to defend the borders of Imladris.

‘I wish Elrond had been able to come,’ he said, half to himself.

‘Indeed, my lord,’ Rindor agreed with a heartfelt simplicity that brought a broad smile to the other’s face.

‘Do you lack faith in me?’ Glorfindel grinned as the aide became slightly flustered. ‘I am not entirely devoid of experience, you know.’

Rindor re-assumed the deadpan expression that he considered suitable for his position. ‘No, indeed, my lord,’ he said, refusing the opportunity to get involved in any debate about the level and range of skills displayed by the Balrog slayer.

Glorfindel turned to look at him seriously, wincing slightly as his movement reminded him of his desire to spend some time away from his horse.  ‘You are going to have to learn to use words other than ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘indeed’, Rindor,’ he remarked.  ‘And the sooner you stop concluding every sentence with ‘my lord’, the better pleased I will be.  We will be spending a considerable amount of time in each other’s company – and it will be much better if we are comfortable.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

As he started to roll up his eyes in exasperation, Glorfindel registered an undertone in the other’s voice that made him look instead into the pale face.  He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Maybe I will be able to survive your company after all, Rindor,’ he commented.

He turned his head to inspect the countryside through which they were now riding.  They had passed through the neat and ordered garden belt, where much of the farmland burgeoned, productive under the gentle sun.  Rambling farming communities had given way to smaller areas of housing, where elves grouped their homes at favoured spots among rolling green hills dotted with sheep.  Glorfindel found it interesting to observe numbers of elves involved in activities he customarily associated with Men.  Although food production had always, naturally, been a part of elven life, he could not recall it on the scale which it appeared to have assumed here.  But then, he mused, there had long been no need to expend their own energy in crop-growing. Their numbers had been too small and the goods too easy to obtain by trade. Here, of course, there had to be those willing to invest their labour in its production.  And that, he reminded himself, was something that had to be borne in mind when adding information to that irritatingly blank map.  It would be a serious error to set up new homes in places that could not sustain the elves who were looking to follow his choice.

The site chosen for their rest was clearly a regular stopping place, providing fresh water, sufficient shelter from the nearby group of trees and enough open space to pitch tents if necessary. Rindor recognised some of the figures by fires already supporting cooking pots, from which were coming savoury smells that reminded him how long it had been since he had eaten.  He hoped that the new arrivals had thought to cook in a quantity large enough to satisfy the dozen or so elves in Glorfindel’s party.

The elf lord grimaced as he dismounted.  ‘You would think,’ he remarked, ‘that after all these years the pungency of the smell that accompanies such expeditions would remain in my head, yet it is the first thing I forget.  I am tired, stiff, greatly in need of a hot bath – and all I can smell is smoke and sweat and the fragrance of horse.’

‘And stew, my lord,’ Rindor pointed out, his belly giving an involuntary gurgle.

‘Ah yes – and someone else’s dinner,’ Glorfindel agreed, removing the tack from his mount and setting about grooming him and checking his hooves before freeing him to graze nearby.

‘Welcome, Lord Glorfindel,’ a familiar voice greeted him.  ‘Would you care for a mug of wine while we await our meal?’

Glorfindel turned slowly. ‘Haldir?’ he said.  ‘I was not aware that you were joining us.’

‘My lord sent me a message,’ the former march warden of Lothlorien smiled. ‘He felt this was just the kind of project to appeal to me.  Experienced scouts from all the elven havens of Middle Earth were required – and I am nothing if not an experienced scout.’

‘I am glad to see you,’ Glorfindel said simply. He indicated the elf beside him. ‘Rindor,’ he said.  ‘Elrond has instructed him to dog my steps, recording everything I do whilst insisting I sign innumerable pieces of paper, so that the written record might remain complete.’

The two elves eyed each other critically.  Haldir was not inclined to think that a clerk would make a very satisfactory contribution to the project.  Paperwork was, he supposed, necessary, but those who produced it tended to take it up only because they were incompetent in more useful fields.  Rindor, on the other hand, was very familiar with the name of the march warden, but what he had heard was disinclined to give him much confidence in Haldir’s practical good sense.  A tendency to think with his weapons and work out the kinks later, or so the product of Elrond’s training had heard.  Useful in a fight, but not one to work in a consistent and disciplined manner according to a pre-arranged plan.   

Glorfindel was reminded of two dogs sniffing round each other suspiciously and his eyes brightened.  Perhaps there would be more entertainment in this situation than he had suspected.

‘Did I hear that you have planned to feed us?’ he said hopefully.  ‘I find that I am quite looking forward to a meal. A full plate and mug would make a pleasing end to the day. And if tomorrow is to be spent in talk, I would appreciate an evening catching up with old friends.’

‘Come.  Join us,’ offered the elf of Lothlorien.  ‘My lord warned me that you Imladris elves would need support on this venture.  I am glad we are able to help you.’

‘Just be grateful Elladan and Elrohir have not come with us,’ Glorfindel said. ‘Be sure that they would make you pay for such comments.  I, of course, am far too mature to take exception to your words.’

‘Where are they?’ Haldir enquired. ‘I confess to a touch of relief when I saw they were absent from you company.  It is difficult to challenge you properly knowing that they are my lord’s grandsons – I almost feel an obligation to keep them from harm.’

Glorfindel ran through a series of hair-raising encounters in his mind. ‘If,’ he said, ‘you have been keeping them from harm, I dread to think of what you might have done to them had you wished to make them suffer.’  Haldir shrugged as he continued, ‘They are busy with adult responsibilities – they have presented Elrond with daughters-in-law and made him a daeradar.  He chose not to involve them in this matter yet.’

A slow smile crossed Haldir’s face.  ‘I wish I had known,’ he grinned. ‘I would have come to visit.  It would have given me a great deal of amusement to watch those two dangling on the hooks of domesticity.’

The evening darkened, the shot silk of the sky fading to velvet and the mellow air freshening as a light breeze rose, causing the smoke of the fires to drift across the clearing.  The elf lord lifted his head to gaze on the stately dance of the stars, as he allowed his mind to go over the agenda for the following day.  The main problem, he felt, would be amalgamating the different groups: specialists and experts, practical workers and trained warriors.  He allowed himself a silent laugh.  It would be more than difficult, he decided – impossible, perhaps.  Abandoning his thoughts and consciously relaxing his tired muscles he allowed himself to drift along the dream path.

Looking round the group of elves the following morning, Glorfindel found that he recognised quite a few faces.  Not just among those from Imladris, who had accompanied him along the road so far, and some of whom had served under his direction for centuries, but also many of the contingent from Lothlorien and even some of those from Lasgalen were familiar:  battle hardened, experienced elves who would be valuable assistants and whom he could trust to work together harmoniously, even as he knew they would take every chance to tease each other when off duty.  Other faces were unknown – and uncertain.  It had never been wise or necessary to involve civilians in expeditions before, although no such excursion as this had been required in more than an age.  He found he was more doubtful about some here – but only time would tell if his instincts were correct.

He smiled at them, bright, charming, easy – a great lord, worthy of respect, but not one to fear.  ‘You know why we are here,’ he told them.  ‘We have been chosen to seek out new lands for those of our people who wish to accompany us.  We are looking for the closest thing to perfection – we have time and space enough to choose carefully and wisely. We have among us the mix of skills needed to ensure that we avoid obvious errors, but only by working together will we succeed in finding the best.  As yet,’ he continued seriously, ‘we know little of each other.  If we are to do what we should, we must spend this journey time learning to overcome any assumptions we may have carried with us from the past and discovering what each of us can offer to this mission.’  He paused.  ‘Is there anything that any here would wish to know?’

An immediate hush greeted his enquiry.  Typically, the muttering of which he had been aware the previous evening silenced the moment permission was given to speak.  Glorfindel waited, in the certain knowledge that some of those present knew how to nudge the restless into speech.

‘I have a question,’ Haldir drawled.  ‘Is Imladris leading this quest?’

Glorfindel smiled to himself.  Trust Haldir, he thought to be challenging even as he co-operated.  ‘Certainly not,’ he replied earnestly.  ‘I have been selected by Elrond, certainly, but also by Lord Celeborn and King Thranduil to be in overall charge, but I have no desire to spend every moment controlling your movements.  Command of different tasks will certainly be delegated – for example, I have every intention of asking you to take control of the scouts.  Rindor will organise record-keeping – I would offer the duty elsewhere, but I doubt that anyone else wishes for that role.  From information that Thranduil and Celeborn have given me, I believe that Aelindor would be the wisest choice to direct the foresters in their investigations.  Other suggestions have been made by your lords, who know you best – and yet others will be made as time shows which among you is most suited to take up which duty.’

Other questions came thick and fast.  Some were simple matters of fact, easy to answer; others required the careful wording of responses that might prove contentious.  On the whole, Glorfindel felt quite pleased at the quality of the elves he had been given to lead, but by the time he drew the session to a close, suggesting that everyone needed a break to think over what had been said and take some refreshment, he was exhausted. 

The meeting had proved, as he had suspected it would, less than easy, but it had also been illuminating.  It was not that the participants had different aims, but more that they had completely disparate ways of working – and of measuring success.  He would have little difficulty with the warriors – they were accustomed to doing as they were told, so that the rivalries between the elves of different realms would be minimised.  He could control those from Imladris and he knew that Haldir would be able to keep his small contingent in hand.  Thranduil’s warriors – well, they were a disciplined group.  He scarcely knew their leader, but Vondil seemed a sensible elf.  He rather thought that the farmers and foresters would take their lead from the warriors, but to his mind, the problem would come with the technical experts.  More – if his instincts were correct, the main problem would be with one particular elf.

‘What is your opinion?’ he asked his aide as he watched him expand his rough notes into the paper record being drawn up for the unfortunate lords compelled to sit at home and wait.

Rindor paused for a moment and looked up, answering shortly. ‘Neldin.’

‘Neldin?’

‘You were asking me who would be the most likely one to cause difficulties, were you not?  It will be Neldin.  He has already ruffled feathers this morning and we have scarcely had time to get beyond greetings.  He appears to be on the defensive – and he certainly does not seem to care for Nintaur.  Perhaps he could shed some light on the matter – they share a specialism, after all, and may have met before.’

Glorfindel nodded.  ‘I begin to see why Elrond appointed you,’ he remarked.  ‘There is more to you than neat handwriting.’

‘Why, thank you, my lord,’ Rindor said, infusing sufficient fulsome gratitude in his tone to make Glorfindel grin.  It was heartening to think that this journey might lead to him finding a good friend as well as providing him with the exciting prospect of valuable work.

‘Have you not finished with that yet?’ he asked. ‘If you do not hurry there will be nothing left for you to eat.  We can always make up the records later.  Come.’