Chapter 43 - Tirnen

Rhinure did not spare another glance backwards as she walked to where her horse was waiting for her. But only she knew what it had cost her to make that admission to Legolas. She was his – his to command, use, discard – do what he willed. No one really understood what this meant – not him and definitely not her people. She could only hope that Legolas would take some time to learn how to exploit her vows. She could only hope that he would leave her enough space to manoeuvre while he took what he wanted from her. There was no question in her mind that he would realise the power he had over her – it was all a matter time.

Time, of which she had very little. So little time to overcome the inherent asymmetry between them. She was vowed to him – Lord to subject – while his vows did not constrain him in equal measure. The power that she had over him as his wife would take time to develop while her vows made her subservient immediately.

She wondered if the Avari realised how exposed she actually was. Avari marriage vows were rarely, if ever put into practise, since both husband and wife had equal power over the other. Each could command the other, which effectively equalised the power between the two. It made it easier to ignore the severity of the bonds a married couple swore to each other. Unlike her, no Avari was truly conscious of how helpless they made themselves by marrying another. Marriage was a commitment in the eyes of the Kin; the internal dynamics of the relationship could be worked out between the couple itself. The vows did not hold them as they did her. She truly had to obey Legolas if he so wished it of her. She could not ask him to do the same.

It all came down to power in the end – power that Legolas had and she did not. It was a deep game that she was playing, one that could end her life if she was not careful. If the Avari ever realised how little space she had, her life would be over. She knew that if it came to a choice between the Avari and Legolas she would not have much of choice. She would do as Legolas commanded her. It was that simple and that dangerous.

To win this game and her people’s safety, she had to be stronger and more devious than she had ever been. She had to convince her people that she knew what she was doing, even though she had her doubts sometimes. She had to convince her Heir and First Advisor that she would be able to manipulate Legolas enough to make this whole alliance worthwhile. She had to convince them that being with him did not confuse her. That being near him did not make her ache. That being held by him did not make her want to forget everything else. That making love to him did not make everything else fade into insignificance. And to do that, she had to first convince herself.

And she would – Rhinure promised herself. She had managed to become Sacrifice after her mother had brought shame to the family name. She had managed to redeem her family – her father, even her mother. She had managed to lead people despite her youth. And she had done it through sheer force of will. She would do it again – she would survive and with her so would the Avari.

As Rhinure approached the courtyard, she could see Istion holding her horse, waiting for her to come. Did he understand what he asked from her – what the Avari asked of her? Serve us, protect us, defend us – at the cost of your life and if need be, at the cost of your heart.

Still, she knew what she had been doing when she had sworn her vows – to the Avari and to Legolas. Somehow, she would make this work; somehow, she would manage to win. She could not do anything less.

“Mistress?”

“Yes, Istion?”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes – always.” And she was. This is what a Sacrifice did, and she was Sacrifice. If nothing else, she would always have that.

“Come, Istion, we go home.”

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“Did you see Prince Legolas?”

“If I had not I would not have left, Istion.”

Istion spared a glance for his Mistress. The statement was made without undue inflection but Istion still wondered about its significance. “May I ask, Mistress, why you felt the need to inform him of our departure? He would have found out soon enough.”

“He is my husband, Istion. He should know of my plans, should he not?” Rhinure taunted. It was dangerous to play with Istion but even that was expected of her. She was not one to be cowed by possible threats. She would do what was required but she would make it as difficult for others as they made it for her.

“All of them, Mistress?” Istion wondered what exactly she meant by what she said. It was a fact that Rhinure did not lie but then “truth” was such a matter of definition. Depending on how ones words sliced reality, truth could be real or as much of a lie as the rest of life.

“The ones he is already aware of, my Avari.”

Istion smiled, though Rhinure could not see it. It was also a fact that the Sacrifice always kept her wits about her.

Rhinure could feel the tenseness leave Istion’s body. She could feel him smile behind her. He was hers – he would follow her when she wanted, where she wanted. Such loyalty was to be encouraged so she left the actual answer left unsaid. What she said was not untrue but she did not tell him that she had stayed because she had vowed to, because he had asked it of her and in the end, she had wanted to.

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Ehtewen wondered how much longer it would take Rhinure to arrive. She had not been happy when Rhinure had said that she would wait until Legolas returned. Ehtewen had not seen the need to stay; Herenion or some other Elf was as capable of passing on a message to the Prince. However, Rhinure had insisted that she must speak to Legolas before she left. Something about a vow given. Ehtewen had not understood why Rhinure had made the promise – but once given, an oath must be upheld.

So, now Ehtewen waited for her Mistress to return and watched the rest of the Avari set up camp. As one of the Elders of the Clan, Ehtewen knew she would not have to help set up camp. Besides, as First Guard, not many of the Avari would dare approach to ask in the first place. It amused Ehtewen how much fear her position caused. All Avari knew that the First Guard’s primary and only responsibility was to protect the Sacrifice. All and everything else were secondary to that. And it was also known that the First Guards took their responsibility very seriously.

Ehtewen had to admit, though, that the fearsome reputation of the First Guard had much to with the previous occupants of the title and especially with the current holder. Ehtewen had in her long life managed to intimidate practically every Elf she had come across. Practically, but not all. There were a few, special handful who defied even the First Guard.

Cothion, the Heir of the Avari, was one. He was not intimated by anything. It was said amongst the Clan that he had defied even Melkor himself. Ehtewen knew that to be a slight exaggeration since Cothion was unborn during that dark time but if he had been around, it would have been true.

Túrgwaith, First Advisor – now he had been there when Melkor had held the Avari. He had been there when the Dark One had created the first Orcs, long before the elves had been sundered into Avari and Eldar. He had survived and he always would. First Guards came and went but he was always there. He was the unchanging facet of the Clan’s life and Ehtewen hoped he would remain so. He had no need to fear the First Guard. Besides, he had a peculiar way of looking at you that said, ever so clearly, that he had seen this all before and then again. Nothing was new for him and fear was often tied to the unknown. Since little surprised him, little scared him as well.

There had been some who were now lost – Morion with his patient eyes, his brother Barion, the previous Sacrifice, Rhinure’s mother, Sarniel. Morion had been too quiet to intimidate, he would just turn those eyes and one would forget why one had bothered disturbing him in the first place. There was such quiet steel in him that withstood any assault. Morion – how Ehtewen missed him.

Barion – born of flame, father of Rhinure – he was one to take disregard of the First Guard to new extremes. He was bound to laugh at Ehtewen more than cower before her, if Avari were given to laughter. Mercurial, Barion would rather die than submit – and eventually that had gotten him killed. Still, he was no coward.

Then there was the Sacrifice, Sarniel. Like Sacrifices before and after, she was just too busy to be afraid. Ehtewen remembered her first and last attempt to make the young Sarniel tremble – the child had turned such disdainful eyes at the elleth that Ehtewen had known she would take the Sacrifice’s mantle if the need arose. The same will she had seen in Rhinure. Like mother before her, Rhinure too was able to ignore what she wished. Ehtewen wondered if that tenacity was part of what made an Avari chose to be Sacrifice. She supposed it was – she had never seen or heard of a Sacrifice to give in – to fear, to their enemies, even to themselves.

Ehtewen had always thought that these few Avari were the only ones who would ever be able to stand against her will and her power. She had not been particularly impressed with the quality of Silvan elves. They had given into her too easily. Still, even amongst them, there were a few conundrums. Herenion, the ever cheerful, who seemed not to notice the palpable air of menace that clung to her. Thranduil, king in the truest sense, who saw it, measured it, recognised it for what it was – armour, a weapon – respected it, and then let it be. Ehtewen had been almost convinced that she had met one Elf who was incapable of fear, that is, until she saw the naked fear when Thranduil embraced Legolas. The King feared for his son, greatly so.

Which led her back to the biggest puzzle of them all – Legolas. He was so young, just a little older than her Rhinure. But he seemed so much weaker than the Avari elleth. He almost jumped when she glared at him – one could see the discomfort ooze out of him when he was near her. Still, that did not stop him from going ahead and doing exactly what he planned. He was able to fear and put it aside all at the same time. It was as if he were able to feel and act at the same time – in the very same instant. Ehtewen had seen Legolas act as the Prince, she had seen his pain at certain acts he had to commit but that did not seem to stop him from going ahead and doing them. It was as if the Avari concept of the psyche did not apply to him. When the Avari acted, they pushed their emotions as far away as possible and accepted the consequences later. Legolas seemed to do both at instantaneously – he felt while he acted but did not seem hampered. And that frightened Ehtewen, because she did not understand how that could be. How could an Elf feel and still manage to perform – why did his emotions not paralyse him?

Sometimes she thought it took a lot more courage to act as Legolas did. The Avari did what they must and only later dealt with their feelings. It was a delayed coping mechanism – one that guaranteed that what they felt did not interfere with what they did. It seemed as if Legolas did the same but he did not allow himself the time to be numb. Everything he did, he did knowing how it would affect him. There was no carefully induced ignorance to protect him – no ice to lower the fire. It took great courage to live like that even though Ehtewen did not understand it.

Would her little Mistress be able to understand her husband more than Ehtewen did? Or would she too burn out in the fire that surrounded him? Would she be able to withstand the fascination that he prompted in others? Did it even matter as long as Rhinure did her duty? Ehtewen would have to think about it.

“What do you think of so deeply, dai?”             (Care-giver)

Ehtewen turned to look up at Rhinure, “About important things, choti.”  (little one)

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Did I not say they were important?”

“Yes?”

“Then why would I want to tell my choti about it. Does she not have enough to worry about?”

“I suppose she does, dai. For example, right now she has to worry about the fact that Istion is going to burn our dinner.”

“Do you want to come with me while I terrorize him into doing a better job?”

“Of course, First Guard, everyone knows that you are the best when it comes to – ah, convincing people.”

“You would be surprised at how untrue that is, Mistress.”

“Dai?”

“Come on, beta, Istion is not going to leave much food to work with soon.”       (Child)

Rhinure blinked but hurried to follow Ehtewen. It had been a while she had seen Ehtewen perform. It would be fun.

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“This is foul, Istion.”

“Thank you, First Guard, I must be improving then?”

“That you are. I remember the last time you cooked it was inedible.”

“You are too generous, First Guard, it was poisonous.”

“That is true, Mistress.”

“Istion, I am obliged to point out that one is insulting your cooking you should not agree with them.”

“That might be so, First Guard, but my cooking is something I would not even feed to the Fallen.”

Ehtewen and Rhinure both nodded, all the while eating the stew that Istion had laboured so hard over. Rhinure grimaced, “Three more days of this.”

“You could try cooking yourself, Mistress.”

“I might have to, Istion, if I am going to make it back to Tirnen alive.”

That declaration brought out a round of cheers from the rest of the Avari. It was not often that Rhinure cooked but she was good at it. Rhinure narrowed her eyes, she had the feeling that she had been manoeuvred into cooking for the rest of their journey.

“Istion, exactly how did you get appointed cook for our journey.”

Istion cleared his throat, “Well, I thought it would be best. After all, I do not get much opportunity to practise my skills. The rest of the Company agreed.”

Rhinure nodded, she had been tricked into cooking. This was going to be a wonderful trip. She made a note to kill Istion when the opportunity presented itself. So much for loyalty.

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Three days and some pleasant meals later, Rhinure and her Company rode into Tirnen. She could almost feel the weight sliding off her shoulders as she spied the familiar shelters. Elves were moving about the trees with their black cloaks and unsmiling faces. There was such quiet here, quiet that Rhinure had not even realised she had missed while she had been in Mirkwood. To an outsider the silence would have been unnatural. There were no laughing children, no gossiping wives or grumbling husbands. Each Avari walked in silence, eyes ever alert to the danger surrounding them. But for Rhinure there was peace here, such solitude. She had come home.

And what a home it was – so different from Thranduil’s palace complex but peculiarly Avari in tone. The dwellings were rude by Elven standards until one realised that they could be taken down at a moment’s notice. Even the Talans in the trees were more lookout posts than permanent homes. Tirnen felt like a city that had just appeared out of nowhere and threatened to disappear in the shadows if one blinked. Rhinure supposed that it was an accurate a description as anything. The Avari were a nomadic people, always moving to avoid detection. Their city reflected this – there was hardly anything there which could not be dismantled and loaded onto the many carts that stood idle for now.

Rhinure realised with a slight nostalgia that this clearing had been Tirnen’s resting place longer than any Avari could remember. And now she was going to tell the Avari that they had to leave it behind. Even after much practise it did not become any easier to uproot themselves and start all over again. The Avari were nomads by necessity, not by choice or inclination.

It would especially hard for the children. Rhinure watched as the little ones play their games. She could see one of them pretend to hunt the others, little face intent and serious. She held the tiny knife with a practised grip as she silently stalked her prey. It would be difficult for her to give up her secret spots and private places. Places that she had known her entire life. But she would do it – they all would if Rhinure asked it of them.

As she rode into the centre, the Avari immediately gathered around her. There was no cheering no whispering, but Rhinure knew that they were glad to see her. Words were unnecessary here, the Avari had learnt silent ways to communicate. And communicate they did – welcome home Mistress. You have been missed.  And as silently Rhinure answered – I am glad to be home. I have missed you as much. Nothing was said, but then words were often unnecessary.

By the time Rhinure dismounted, a sizable crowd had gathered around her. By mutual consent the Avari pressed around her, giving her space by their silence but touching her at the same time to make sure she had returned. Rhinure allowed it because she understood why they did it. Their Sacrifice had been away and now she was home. It was a good day to be alive.

There was also worry in their faces, worry that Rhinure ignored. The Sacrifice had returned, something was obviously wrong. Trouble was coming. Rhinure thought that it was this dual role she had in the Avari life was strangely appropriate. Nurturer, protector and harbinger of doom. She protected the Avari but her presence always brought home the fact that they needed protection. It was an uneasy balance, but balance nevertheless.

As she walked towards her residence, she was conscious of the fact that old friends and lovers greeted her guards. They too had come home, home that was denied to them because she could not be here. As she made her way through the crowd she could see Cothion and Túrgwaith waiting at the entrance to her dwelling. Both seemed pleased to see her. Yes, it was a good day to be home.

As she reached them, both saluted simultaneously. Rhinure was tempted to believe that they had practised their timing so that the sounds their fist made when they hit the tunic reverberated doubly so.

“It is good that you are home, Mistress.”

“I do not bring pleasant news with me, First Advisor.”

“Do you ever?”

“Not to my memory, Commander.”

“Still, it is good that you are home.” Túrgwaith nodded in agreement to Cothion’s statement.

“Yes, it is good to be home. There will be time to talk of more unpleasant things later.”

“There is always time to talk of such matters, Mistress.”

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