Far Horizons 4 – Paper Chase

‘Do you think we could run fast enough and far enough to get away?’  Legolas spoke quietly as he pulled at the formal day robes his adar had insisted that he wore.

‘I am very much afraid that the answer is ‘no’.  We do not have a chance,’ Elrohir replied, his arms full of the stack of records Elrond had instructed him to bring to the meeting.  ‘Even our naneth and daernaneth have joined the conspiracy.’

‘We might have managed it without the elflings,’ mused Elladan.  ‘I could see Miriwen agreeing to run off to live in hiding in a far distant forest – perhaps.  But we are trapped, my brothers.  We will just have to get on with it.’

‘If you would care to join us?’ Thranduil asked pointedly, indicating the gleaming table piled with maps and scrolls of paperwork.

‘My lord,’ Elrohir replied with a courteous inclination of his head.

The Woodland King grinned.  ‘You show more promise in the field of diplomacy than your brother, Elrondion,’ he remarked.  ‘You have, at least, grasped that scowling is unlikely to win any points. Drag my son to the table, if you would, and let us consider what little information we have available.’

‘Glorfindel has sent initial reports, Thranduil,’ Celeborn said, ‘but I fear they contain little that we did not already know.  They were about to enter the pass when he sent our courier back, so they have not seen the lands in question.’ He indicated one of the documents.  ‘He seems impressed by the foothills, and acknowledges that the population is so small that he can understand why they have not proceeded beyond them.’

‘It is not,’ Elrond stated, ‘Glorfindel’s information that concerns me at the moment.’  He selected another document.  ‘There appears to be an increasing amount of resentment at the rumour that lands have been opened up to us rather than given to the landless offspring of ancient families.’

‘That is true,’ Legolas joined in conversationally without looking at the documents.  ‘Taryatur, my wife’s adar, was talking about it last time I took Elerrina to visit. Her brother and cousins care little – they have no desire to leave city living for a life in the forest – but there are others who fail to see why they should not be given the chance to exploit Valinor’s resources in preference to a crowd of jumped-up, land-grubbing Moriquendi.’

Thranduil closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his hand.  ‘It did not occur to you to mention this to me, my son?’

Legolas looked a little abashed.  ‘I did not think that it was important, Adar.  They are always complaining about something.’

‘In many ways,’ Celeborn said thoughtfully, ‘this is likely to be our greatest difficulty.  We must try to make everyone realise that it will be to their advantage if we take those who wish to come with us and migrate – as well as leaving more space for those living here, we will be opening up markets for them and, eventually, providing them with goods.  This is a situation from which everyone will be able to benefit.’

‘Our problem, I suspect,’ Elrond pointed out, ‘will not be with the lords – who understand our reasoning and are, in truth, quite happy to get us out from underfoot, but with those who look on exploration as something from which to obtain profit.’

‘Would it not be better to work openly?’ Elladan asked.  ‘Trying to hide things only makes people think that more is being concealed than really is.  If everybody knows – well, some might choose to come and others to complain, but at least they would not think they were being taken for fools.’

‘Naïve,’ Thranduil commented.

‘But he might have a point,’ Celeborn admitted.

‘We need reports from Glorfindel before we can let too much out,’ Elrond insisted. ‘We cannot begin to assemble our first pioneers without some idea of what they can expect.  Moreover, it will not really answer the complaints of those who believe that the land should not be ours.’

‘Could not Lady Galadriel be of some assistance here, Adar?’ Legolas enquired, his voice carefully neutral.  ‘She has the best contacts with the Noldor – and, come to that, with the Teleri.  Most elves respect her – either for her family or for her achievements.’

‘I think,’ Elrohir mused, ‘that the power of the distaff side should not be overlooked. I have discovered since I have been wed, that there is much that happens – is discovered, discussed and decided – that I had never suspected.  It would seem to me that wives and mothers make many of the most important decisions in our lives without our even being aware of it.  If we can harness that, we will successfully defuse most of our opposition, until it is little more than petulant posturing.’ 

‘Are you suggesting,’ Thranduil asked incredulously, ‘that we should fight discontent with gossip?’

‘And rumour with rumour,’ he agreed.

Thranduil turned to Elrond. ‘Did you have to bring your sons into this?’ he asked plaintively. ‘In the course of one meeting they have managed to complicate matters!  What they say sounds ridiculous – although I cannot currently think of any better options.’

‘Your own son has proved his worth in similar vein,’ Elrond pointed out. ‘And bear in mind that without them, we will be sitting round this table for uncounted years whilst others are involved in the more interesting tasks.’

The meeting, Elladan told himself, as he permitted the voices to drift into the distance, was not really lasting for days.  It just felt as if it was. The trouble was, he sighed, that talk never really achieved anything: all it did was point out the problems. None of what they said here would make any difference as long as they did not know what Glorfindel was finding. Their problems here with status-conscious stuffy elves defensive of their own imagined slights were only one part of the story.  Until they knew what was going on elsewhere, however long their discussions, they would not make any progress.  He did not realise when the conversation stopped and interest diverted to him.

‘It is just as it was when he was an elfling,’ Celeborn observed, as Elladan swung on his chair, attempting to balance his pencil on his finger.  ‘He is really very poor at concealing his disinterest.’

Legolas grinned wickedly as he leaned over and prodded his friend.  The pencil clattered to the table as Elladan saw the eyes on him and tried to compose his features into a look of deep consideration.  ‘I think perhaps,’ he said at random, ‘that it would be useful to send us to sound out our contacts among the different groups to see how extensive the discontent is among the younger elves.’

Thranduil raised his eyebrows in the intimidating way that always made Elladan feel as if he had barely escaped the nursery. ‘One would almost think that he had been paying attention.’

‘Almost,’ Elrond agreed with a certain resignation. ‘But not quite.’

‘I think you should both be thankful that Elladan has been allocated to me,’ his daeradar told them.  ‘At least your two aides have managed to remain awake.’

***

‘Are you really content to permit them to get on with matters in your absence?’ Celebrian asked her naneth. 

‘It is not as if they are going to come to any interesting decisions.’ Galadriel dismissed the meeting. ‘Let them get on with it – for now, anyway.’

A broad smile spread across her daughter’s face.  ‘I am looking forward to a long ride, Naneth,’ she said.  ‘It feels a long time since we have been able to go off on our own like this.  Family parties are wonderful – it seems only a heartbeat ago that I could not imagine being reunited with Elrond and you, let alone Adar and my sons – but it will be wonderful to be free.’

‘You are dressed for it,’ Galadriel remarked, observing the tan breeches and long tunic in soft green.  Her belt was weighted down by a beautifully decorated scabbard from which poked the hilt of a long knife and Celebrian had braided her long argent hair into a single tail.

Her daughter shrugged.  ‘There is no harm in being prepared – and I do not want to waste today perched side-saddle in flowing skirts.’  She looked at her naneth sharply. ‘And neither do you,’ she added.  ‘Your trailing gown is not quite what it appears, any more than you are.  I am just happy to be seen like this from the beginning, while you are hiding your intentions.’

Galadriel’s laugh was warm and easy. ‘I am known for it,’ she acknowledged.  ‘I will shed the disguise as soon as we have reached the outlying areas.’

Their horses were waiting for them, impatient to be free of the ordered greenery of the city, so that it took them little time to find their way to the wide water meadows by the river crossing that would lead them into the hills.  They splashed across, enjoying the silver spray of water and the freshness of the bright morning, before pausing briefly for Galadriel to shed her pristine white, removing the gown she wore over dove-grey breeches and shirt and bundling it into a tidy roll inside the blanket she carried.  She took a leather thong and bound her hair back from her face.

‘There,’ she said.  ‘Now let us ride!’

Galadriel was laughing as they ended their mad gallop across the wide grasslands, slowing the blowing horses to a cooling walk.  Her cheeks were flushed with colour and her eyes sparkled with sapphire fire, as she leaned forward, patting her mount appreciatively. 

Her daughter smiled to see her.  Long a queen in all but name, known and feared by many for her power, the real Galadriel was usually hidden behind a cool dignity and authoritative demeanour and she rarely allowed her wild hoydenish nature and wicked sense of humour to show – in fact, Celebrian thought, there were many who would swear she had neither.  It was good to see her enjoying herself as she had seemed unable to do during the long years during which she awaited with little hope the arrival of her husband. 

‘Shall we aim for the woods?’ Galadriel asked. 

Celebrian nodded and turned her horse to follow a narrow stream towards the beckoning grove of tall trees.  The shade stretched across the grass as if to draw them closer and they rode up to the smooth grey trunks of the ancient beeches.  They freed their mounts to graze, requesting them to remain close enough to come when called and paused only to tuck their possessions out of sight before leaping easily into the trees to share a perch on a high branch.

‘I do not know if I have ever asked you,’ Celebrian enquired idly, ‘did it take you many years to adjust to Adar’s way with trees?’

‘Oh yes,’ Galadriel smiled reminiscently, ‘I found it difficult at first – and the trees had no real wish to co-operate with me, even though your adar asked it of them. They accepted me in the end, though – and I think now they often forget that I am not a wood elf.’

‘Do you want to move to the new realm?’ her daughter asked seriously.  ‘I am worried that you will not want to leave all your family – you were divided for so long – are you sure that you will be happy?’

Galadriel stroked her daughter’s soft cheek.  ‘I am happy,’ she replied, her voice soft and warm.  ‘I was pleased to see my parents again and renew acquaintance with my kin, but I made my choice long ago.  I will go with the displaced elves of Middle Earth to seek a new home – but this time, I will not be divided from my kin by an impassable barrier.  The people with whom I most want to be – your adar, you and Elrond, your sons and their families – will be there too.’

Pausing and lifting her hand to touch the smooth grey-green bark, Celebrian tilted her head to listen.  ‘We are not alone,’ she murmured.

‘It is probably nothing,’ her naneth reassured her, turning her mind to the presence of others in the wood.

‘But we will not announce ourselves,’ Celebrian agreed.

‘I will ask our horses to remain out of sight.’

Celebrian suppressed a giggle. ‘We are nasty suspicious elves,’ she whispered.

‘Experienced enough to be cautious.’ Galadriel’s eyed twinkled, as they consciously withdrew against the sheltering branches. 

The two elves who strolled beneath the old tree to the edge of the woods clearly had no reason to think that there might be anyone else sheltering in the trees.  They were young, thought Celebrian – although that could mean almost anything in elven terms – and the fact that they were dressed in bright blue touched with scarlet suggested that they were not numbered among the Sindar or Silvan races.

‘Where are they?’ asked the slightly taller of the two, clearly irritated. ‘I could have sworn that I heard horses.  I really do not wish to be hanging around here – there is no knowing when some outsider might turn up and I, for one,  do not want to stick in anyone’s memory.’

‘We have no reason to hide,’ the other replied, his voice like enough to the other to suggest that they might be kin.  ‘We are not doing anything we should not.’

‘But that might not continue to be the case, fool,’ the first said disdainfully. ‘I have had enough of these newcomers, prancing around as if they are something special. They are here on sufferance, and it is about time they realised that.  Our elders all seem prepared to kowtow to them and let them take what they want – but it is about time they learned that we are not all spineless.’

‘They are coming,’ the second said, clearly relieved.

Half a dozen dark-haired elves, dressed in the bright colours and exaggerated fashions favoured by the young offspring of the wealthy families, dismounted from horses that sported elaborate tack decorated with the bells meant to ring sweetly as they sped along. They were noisy, and, thought Celebrian, remarkably unobservant for a group of conspirators, making no effort to check if they were safe and unheard.

‘Ho, cousin!’ one of the new arrivals called.  ‘Have you heard the latest?  My brother was hunting in the foothills, when a party of those dark elves rode through – they are definitely looking to grab what is on the other side of the mountains!  We cannot let them get away with it, Tarannon.  It is time someone taught them their place!’

‘Not here,’ the one called Tarannon replied with irritation.  ‘Surely you are not stupid enough to think we can shout this out at the tops of our voices!  Calion and I have a better place prepared.  Leave your horses and come further in where we are less likely to be seen.’

Galadriel eyed them intently as they passed into the wood, registering each of the proud, eager faces.  Too young to have experience of civil unrest, she thought, but too old to think that fomenting disturbance was no more than a game, they should have more sense than to involve themselves in schemes like this.

‘Fools,’ Celebrian said softly, as the trees stilled behind them.

‘But dangerous fools,’ her naneth added.

‘It is a pity that they did not use a few more names,’ Celebrian observed, ‘but nevertheless, they should not be too difficult to track down.’

‘If these bubble-brained ellyn are floating around on the top,’ Galadriel mused, ‘there will be much more dangerous people stirring the mix.  Those are really the ones who need to be identified.’

‘Their adars?’

‘Possibly – but not hugely likely.  If I were plotting, I would do my best to ensure that my offspring kept their heads down.  Although that could be a double bluff.’

‘So what do we do now?  Shall we slip off quietly while the brats are otherwise engaged?  Or shall we sneak through the trees and spy on them?’

‘We should, of course, go straight home and put this information in other hands.  You do realise that your adar would be extremely annoyed if we were to put ourselves in any danger, do you not?  Not to mention Elrond!’

Their eyes met. ‘So we go and take a look then,’ Celebrian suggested.

‘As long as the trees will hide us,’ her naneth qualified. ‘We will take no risks.’