In the previous chapter….

Oropher is wiled by the Peredhil about some supposedly secret maps of elven realms to the East, Ereinion is chased from Olvárin's fleet in quite a disgraceful manner and Ingil is definitely dragged from his troubled meditation by harsh voices down in the quay

6. The council of Ereinion

In which somebody gets bored, somebody gets angered, somebody behaves as a child, plans are made, suggestions too, Oropher blushes, Ereinion’s tent becomes too small for such crowds and Ingil Ingwion shocks the audience.

“…And no less than a thousand torches give light to the most magnificent hall you could ever dream of! Nothing of the likes shall ever be carved, my friend, not even the Thousand Caves of that Sindarin King could compare to the beauty of Khazad-Dum!” Lord Gundaghâl had started talking the moment a shaken and downhearted Ereinion entered his own tent and had not stopped through breakfast. Erestor’s frown had prevented the king from interrupting the Dwarf-lord, and Ereinion had listened politely and made many convenient questions. The Darf-lord wanted to start moving his people to the East and wanted to know about the safety of the eastern lands.

“It’s been almost a generation since any of us made the road, and we know not what we may find. There used to be scattered elvish strongholds and Edain camps, and since you are their King you must be able to grant us some kind of safe-conduct… “

Another one who thinks I know all about the lands to the east, the irked king thought. I might as well make a public statement. His frown, though, had an unexpected effect.

"Of course," the dwarf added hurriedly, "there are other things to take into account, there’s always been trade between your people and mine, and surely the mighty city of Khazad-Dûm might be interested in establishing trade routes and exchanges with a powerful Elven king…” he suggested with a knowing smile.

Is Finarfin remaining? Ereinion wondered in, for I cannot see another powerful Elven king in the surroundings… His foul humour must have been showing, for he suddenly caught Erestor’s warning expression as the Dwarf made a desperate last attempt.

“We’re ancient friends and allies, after all," the dwarf-lord seemed to be reaching the end of his rope, casting anguished looks at Erestor as the king looked apparently unimpressed by his generous offerings. “I knew your father, lad, when I was a dwarfling, and a brave elf he was… My father once took me in a trip to the havens, where your father was busy building a tower for Círdan… I met your mother, there, too… wise and kind elleth…(1)”

"As far as I can see it," Ereinion interrupted him, his gloominess apparently dispelled at hearing the Dwarf-lord “dwarfling” himself in such way, "you need our help to ensure the safety of your people as they travel east, and in exchange for that help, you would help establishing trade agreements between Hadhodrond (2) and us…to the benefit of all involved, of course…" Ereinion saw a ghostly smirk of approval in Erestor’s impassive face and kept on sternly. "As well as sharing your maps and routes with us, of course, so we can get an accurate idea of what lands and lordships you would be traversing..."

The Dwarf-lord let escape a deep sigh of relief. "Yes, in other words, but yes, that’s what I meant. Of course, first we should discuss the trade agreements, and how we shall reward your help…"

“I wouldn’t dwell upon that right now, my lord,” Ereinion offered graciously, waving his hand in dismissal in a gesture he had seen Finarfin make with striking gracefulness and which had looked pretty easy when performed by the High King. “We’re friends and allies and that should serve for now. I’m more interested presently in discussing your people’s safety,” he added regally, and his efforts were rewarded by a deep bow from the dwarf.

“You may not be all that good with a quarterstaff, but you are a noble king, wise beyond your years,“ the Dwarf-lord said seriously, climbing back to his chair with some effort.

“My lord, you cannot enter there, I told you, the King is busy presently…” The warning voice of the guard in front of Ereinion’s tent sneaked in while the king tried to decide whether to feel insulted by the Dwarf’s remark about his fighting abilities, or flattered by his praise.

“And I told you that I must enter,“ a well-known growl caused Erestor’s brows to rise disapprovingly.

“I’ll see what’s going on, my lord,” he said, rising from his chair, and a moment after he returned with a surprisingly calm Oropher.

“Well, good morning, Lord Oropher,” the King said evenly. “Such an early riser! I believe you already know Lord Gundaghâl,“ he added, trying to suppress an amused grin at the visible efforts Oropher was making to keep a civil façade.

“We met, yes,” the Sinda answered tightly. Now that he had made it into the tent, he seemed a bit uncertain about how to proceed.

“Now, can you tell us why did you feel the urgent need to interrupt my council, Lord Oropher?” Ereinion asked with exaggerate politeness.

“Why, to present his excuses, of course…” Erestor chimed in happily from behind Oropher’s back.

“Apologies for my behaviour yesterday, Lord Gundaghâl,” Oropher grunted after a brief struggle, casting a murderous glance towards Círdan’s counsellor.

“... To the King, am I right, Lord Oropher?” Erestor ended his question with a tone that brooked no argument, as Lord Gundaghâl accepted Oropher’s apologies with a stern nod and Ereinion leaned back on his chair, an expectant look upon his face.

“I…”

The Dwarf-lord smiled invitingly, Erestor nudged the Sinda softly and Ereinion had the distinct feeling that someone was courting death there.

“I…apologize for beating you in front of Círdan and your king, Lord Ereinion.”

Long years spent pretending that everything was fine while he grew up as a lonesome Noldo among Teleri had taught Ereinion to maintain a good grip on his emotions, so he kept his face perfectly still and took no notice of the challenge. He tried instead Finarfin’s lazy waving yet again, with the same unsatisfactory results. “It’s all right,“ he said, “I shouldn’t have provoked you on the first place, and in the end you and Lord Gundaghâl made your peace, so all is forgotten now, Lord Oropher….”

“Glad to hear that,” the Sindarin lord answered curtly, sitting on Erestor’s empty chair. “Please, do not let me interrupt you!" he added with exasperating aplomb. “I already know about those maps…”

“Well…I do not think you can be of any use to Lord Gundaghâl, Lord Oropher,” Erestor said pointedly, while he searched around for another chair, “and this is a council you have not been invited to, so I suggest…”

“Damn! You wretched… Hold them, will you?“

Elrond’s unrestrained language filtering through the canvas of the king’s tent elicited a grin from Ereinion’s face as his guests, and uninvited visitor, exchanged amazed glances.

“We have an appointment! “

“He told us to come!”

“This is very important!”

“Lord Elrond, the King is presently…”

“Tell them!” Elrond sounded at the limit of his endurance and before Erestor could once again reach the entrance, his dark head peered in.

“Is something the matter, Elrond? Good morning, by the way!” Ereinion greeted him in a cheerful tone of voice that suggested that the king had given up with the morning business and was ready to enjoy whatever chaos was looming outside his tent. Elrond was clutching the flap firmly in his hands and seemed to be fighting to keep his place there.

“Good morning, my lord, Lord Gundaghâl,” his voice sounded strained as he rocked back and forth in a strange way. “My lord, there are three youngsters here... claiming that you…”

Ereinion nodded in understanding. ”I see…Well, since we could consider that our meeting has already been ruined, Lord Gundaghâl, I suppose you won’t object if I take care of another matter…”

“Go on, lad,” the Dwarf-lord answered, shaking his hand with that perfectly dismissive wave, Ereinion noticed grudgingly, “take your time,“ he added, picking at Erestor’s plate, “you don’t mind, do you? Aren’t you hungry?”

“Send them in, Elrond, please…” Ereinion took care not to look at Erestor’s face, and watched in amusement as Elrond popped in gracelessly, propelled by what turned out to be the Silvan elleth and her cocky Sindarin friends as they rushed in in a chattering turmoil.

“You told us to come this morning, my lord…”

“…But he wouldn’t let us in... and we have all the information...”

“And they must stop immediately cutting trees,“ the cockiest of the three demanded in a haughty demanding voice.

None of the three youngsters had been cautious enough to assess their surroundings before speaking and that proved a tactical mistake, for suddenly Ereinion and his guests were treated to the sight of a young, impudent elf cut down to size.

“What on Arda are you doing here!” Ereinion was grateful that this time Oropher’s roar was not directed at him. The tallest and cockiest youngster seemed to shrink as he focused his eyes on the guest sitting at the farthest corner of the king’s table.

The boy’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly for a moment and he finally gasped, “I…Adar, I…can explain…” in a thin voice, blushing furiously and taking a step back, and then another, as Oropher advanced upon him.

How did I not notice before? Ereinion thought in amusement, looking from father to son. Why! They even share a frown! “A moment if you please, Lord Oropher,“ he demanded in a serene voice. He suddenly understood the youth’s reaction as Oropher turned to glare at him. He stood his ground, though, but raised his hands as a precaution. “This is something between them and I; they are worried that the edain are cutting too many trees and I suggested that they came to see me today with all the information they could gather...”

“You’re using my son to spy on the Edain! How you dare…” Oropher was ready to explode, having changed target without spending his rage.

Trust Oropher to find a reason to blame me for the making of the sun and the moon, Ereinion thought in exasperation. “They presented me with the problem and I only demanded to know it in full detail,” he said patiently, “and you are welcome to leave this moment since your presence is not required anymore, my lord,” he added sternly.

“I’ll stay,” Oropher pronounced abruptly, “lest you end up sending my son in some suicidal mission...”

“As you like; Elrond, please, make room for these young lords and lady and let’s see what they’ve brought!” Ereinion said, deciding that he had not heard Oropher’s last remark.

Soon they were all engaged around the table, plates and jars aside, studying the rough map of the place where the Edain were building their ships and the forest area they were despoiling at an enthusiastic pace.

“They’ve been cutting trees from the same area,” Oropher’s son complained bitterly, “since the very beginning. They are clumsy, ignorant creatures, and they must stop that! “ he insisted.

“I bet you used many wooden things wherever it was that you lived before coming here… didn’t you?” Elrond put in softly.

"Of course!” the young elf answered haughtily. A glare from Ereinion made the trick, though. “My lord,“ he added reluctantly. “But we took care!” he roused again, anger radiating from his thin frame almost visibly, and Elrond held up a hand, fighting to contain his laughter.

“Stop it, young one! I’m sure that you took care…because somebody took the time to teach you... am I right?” The rebellious one held his gaze for a moment before finally nodding grudgingly.

“So, would you volunteer to teach the edain how to clear the forest in a harmless way? Would the three of you volunteer to help them scout for different places where they could obtain their timber?” Elrond added, not noticing the grimace in Erestor and Ereinion’s faces at the word.

“I warn you, peredhel, you will not use my child to...”

“I’m ready to try, Adar!” the proud youngster said, “if only to…”

“You wouldn’t find your own finger even if it were stuck in your own eye, master mason,” a haughty voice of stunning beauty resounded outside the tent. “Move aside, guard, my cousin is awaiting me…”

Ereinion flashed a weak smile towards his visitors as the flap flew open with a flourish and Celebrimbor Curufinwion entered the tent with an undisguised air of nobility, elegantly clad in black. “I must complain, my lord King,” he said, bowing deeply, “that you’ve punished me with undeserved harshness, forcing me to bear with these artisans, whose craft and knowledge does not remotely match even my earliest attempts at city building...”

“Lord Gundaghâl,” Ereinion said, ignoring his cousin’s haughty words, “meet Lord Celebrimbor Curufinwion, son of my father’s half-cousin; Celebrimbor, this is Lord Gundaghâl, son of Lord Azaghâl...”(3)

As dwarf and Noldorin smith bowed respectfully to each other, apparently aware of each other’s renown, Ereinion confronted a bunch of outraged Teleri shipwrights and architects bumping into one another in their eagerness to enter the already crowded tent and present their complaints to the young king, who had decided to include Celebrimbor in the team charged with the design of the new city without consulting them.

“I’ll find another table, Elrond,” Erestor sighed, “you better keep aneye on Oropher, lest he attempts to cut Celebrimbor’s throat…”

“But he wasn’t involved...”

“Elrond…”

A quick look at Oropher’s clouded face was enough for Elrond to take the hint, and he grabbed the Sindarin lord’s arm, turning his attention back to the shipyards.

“Now, Lord Oropher, do you think the trees here are more suitable for the shipbuilding?”

“He is impossibly haughty, my lord,” one of Círdan’s shipwrights was complaining about Celebrimbor. “I don’t know why he insists on working with us...”

“Maybe because it is the king who insisted?” Ereinion suggested, mildly amused by their uneasiness.

“I don’t think so,“ the shipwright shook his head distractedly, as his companions unfolded the designs upon the unsteady table Ereinion used as night stand and which Erestor had unceremoniously put to less kingly uses. “You’re a good lad, you wouldn’t do that to us, would you?” the shipwright added with concern.

A couple of chests containing Ereinion’s belongings were dragged, too, from the more private area in his tent, and soon the guards outside were busy looking for tree stumps, trunks or chairs to accommodate the king’s improvised council.

“We insist that this is the most suitable area, my lord,“ one of the architects claimed, pointing at the same plans Ereinion had rejected the day before.

“And, my lord, you may be forgetting that the Teleri have always lived by the sea and that our ships are our most precious belongings!” another added.

“How could I forget? I grew up in Eglarest, after all…”

“But yet…”

“I cannot understand why you insist on cramming shipyards and warehouses together with houses and orchards and piers and…”

“Because that’s how they do it in their ships, cousin, cramming things one upon another, up to the topmast… that may work for their vessels,” Celebrimbor chimed in from the other side of the table, where he had placed himself by the dwarf-lord, “but do not ask them to build something bigger than that for they will get lost, too much open space for them! ”

“That’s not true!” one of the architects retorted heatedly, and Ereinion had to agree with him. They had settled down in Balar, and helped build the refuge in the mouths of Sirion and…

“This is unworthy of a kingdom of firstborns,” Celebrimbor was saying, as the Teleri architects seethed with undisguised rage.

“Explain yourself, cousin, but try not to step upon others’ pride…”

“Uh, with all that empty space here, and the plateau down there… you could come up with something truly splendid!” The dwarf had joined in the conversation and Ereinion rolled his eyes.

“You’re trying to build up your capital city here?” Oropher’s mocking voice chimed in from beside him and Ereinion breathed in deeply.

“I intend to build a place in which everybody can settle in, a place whence  elves can set sail to the west whenever they want to, a place where our people can be safe and protected, and thrive in trade and forging and growing and hunting, as well as fishing and sailing the waves,” he explained in a serious voice. “This is not Balar, my friends, we’re not refugees any longer,” he continued, his voice more intense as he spoke, his grey eyes blazing in his animated face. “We’re settling down for a long time, as close to our drowned homeland as we shall ever be, and for as long as we draw breath or the land stands; and it is the King’s will that all the elves lingering in middle earth may find a safe haven here, should they need it. See that this is done, my lords” he added sternly, challenging Celebrimbor with a steady gaze.

“Start behaving as a King,” the Fëanorian had reproached him the night before, during their less than friendly conversation. ”For Eru’s sake, Ereinion, look at you, start ´dressing´ as a king!” he had added with languid scorn.

“If I may add something,” a well-known voice added, “we used to live in two cities, back in the Havens.” Unnoticed, Círdan had entered the crowded tent and had listened to the discussion. “We have a splendid firth at our disposal, here, and two overseeing capes. As the king says, let us build a place where everybody feels at ease, be it Quendi or Edain or even Naugrim, should they grace us with their presence,” the Mariner added with a courteous bow that was received with a grateful nod by the Dwarf-lord.

“I suppose, then, that we should start considering Lord Celebrimbor’s designs...”

“I can offer some suggestions, too,“ the booming voice of Lord Gundaghâl resounded in the tent, and Celebrimbor bowed slightly towards Ereinion before overseeing the unfolding of his delicately drafted plans.

“Well-said, young one,” Erestor whispered in Ereinion’s ear. “Now see that they do not kill each other,” he added wickedly, enjoying the dismayed smile in the king’s worried face.

“How’s the board for forest protection progressing?” Ereinion asked, nodding towards the other table where the youngsters seemed intent upon their appointed task, working peacefully with Elrond now that Oropher had joined the architects’ front.

“Ossë’s beard!” another booming voice interrupted their conversation. “Is this Ereinion’s tent or the market place?

“Elros! The King we were awaiting!” Erestor said in a mellifluous voice, pushing Ereinion back to the architect’s table, “Come in, please…”

The young king of the Edain looked a bit dishevelled and was panting heavily, but he carried himself with the same characteristic sprightliness that had earned him his men’s favour and many a disapproving frown from the older elves.

“Excuse me, Erestor, but it was the King who sent for me…”

“And it is the King’s counsellor who’s talking to you,” Erestor said sternly. “Be my friend, Elros, or face the consequences.” Something in the counsellor’s voice managed to sober up the edain king almost immediately.

“Where’s Ereinion?” he asked.

“Over there,” Erestor sighed, pointing at the assorted company around the smaller table, “discussing the layout of the new settlement...”

“I was told that he wanted to discuss something about the timber,” Elros said, fighting to keep a straight face at the sight of Ereinion placing himself between Oropher and Celebrimbor, the strain in his face quite clear."But I don’t think he’s in the mood now, so I better go. I see that Oropher joined in, though," he seemed visibly amused and looked positively smug.

“You call it timber again,“ a soft and melodious voice declared menacingly at his back, “and you better get ready to swim to wherever the Valar have decided to place you and your men, young one.“

“Círdan! Glad to see you! I thought you were busy in my shipyards!” Elros greeted the shipwright happily, completely undaunted by the mariner’s words.

Growing up around Maedhros made elflings difficult to intimidate, Círdan thought with a tired sigh, although, somehow, Erestor managed. “Elrond, go help your lord; the King of the Edain and I will see to this matter...” Círdan grunted. “Your men have been cutting too many trees, Elros, let’s see how we manage to redress that problem...”

“Oh, thanks Eru,” Ereinion whispered, relieved to see Elrond coming to his support. “They’re all mad, I swear,” he added, pointing at the heated commission arguing about the stables and the green areas.

“They’re working together, at least...” Elrond smiled.

“My Lord!” The flap flew open once again and one of the guards stepped in. “His Royal Majesty, the High King of the Noldor, Lord…”

“Stop that, will you?” said Finarfin kindly, as he entered the crowded tent gracefully, bright and shinning as if a Silmaril had come to visit, and waving his hand lazily to the guard. “It is my nephew whom I came to meet, after all…”

Must he do that all the time? Ereinion grunted, watching the effortlessly waving hand with fascination. “My lord,“ he said out loudly, forcing an enthusiasm he was far from feeling, “please, do take a stump, I mean, do take a seat... my lady...”

Galadriel beamed by her father’s arm, casting smiles around her, hardly disguising her mirth. “Morning, cousin, such a lively council you have here!“

“I understand now why you were in such hurry this morning, Ereinion,“ Finarfin added, nodding to the assembled architects. ”We were to suggest that you joined us for breakfast at Olvárin’s ship when we met you at the quay, my thanks, Erestor,” Finarfin offered one of the seats to his daughter, missing Ereinion’s tight smile, “but I see now that you had other obligations… good, good, go on, I can wait...” he said, sitting at the table the three youngsters had been occupying until a moment before, when Erestor had unceremoniously suggested that they played around while the adults discussed some important matters.

Unnoticed, and a bit shaken in their pride, the three young elves took to exploring.

“If you but just give me a moment, my lord,” Ereinion offered hesitantly, as the discussions at the other table reached a dangerous level.

“You both are right!” Elrond was trying to calm down Oropher, “and this is by no means the last word on the matter!“

“And who are you, to be here making decisions, anyway?” one of the Teleri architects was reproaching Oropher, as the king stepped in.

“Come on, come on, let’s calm down...” Ereinion said distractedly, straining to identify the harsh voices that sounded outside.

“I represent a number of silvan elves in this camp” Oropher was saying in his overbearing stance, “and I say that you pay no heed to our needs and preferences...”

“He may have a point there,” Celebrimbor was saying in a conciliatory tone, doubling over his map, “that could be redressed with little loss…”

“Do not restrain me! Do not dare! I seek revenge!” The voices were coming closer, Ereinion thought with some trepidation, wondering what else could happen that morning.

“Go and see what’s going on, Elrond, please,“ he said resignedly.“It seems that the surprises are not over yet...” he groaned as the harsh voices got closer.

For the second time that morning, Elrond was unceremoniously pushed inside his king’s tent, this time across the ground and against the table where the architects and Oropher had just reached a partial agreement about the general ratio between trees and stones, with an enraged Telerin prince attached to his throat in a very uncomfortable manner.

“How you dare! I’ll kill you, slowly and painfully!“

“Stop it, Olvárin!“ Celeborn fought to break the deathly grip Olvárin had on Elrond while Ingil bowed courteously around him, compunction showing on his fair face. “Stop it, it was not him!”

It was Ereinion who finally managed to free Elrond’s throat and planted himself between the gasping peredhel and the irate and- now that he noticed- soaking wet prince.

“Explain yourself, my lord Prince,” the king demanded harshly, his arms folded across his chest, “and make sure you convince me not to put you in chains for storming in my council and assaulting one of my counsellors…”

“You coward, accursed kinslayer, you do not even have the gut to stand for yourself and had to send that… that…”

“You mistook the peredhel, Olvárin,” Elros said brashly, stepping in from the other corner. The passing silence that fell upon the assembly was rent by Olvárin’s outraged shout as he plunged forth in an attempt to strangle the other peredhel.

With the deadly reflexes that had earned him -and his warriors- the wholesome respect of the rest of the army, Ingil extended one of his long, steely muscled arms and blocked Olvárin’s onslaught effortlessly, catching him across the chest and pinning him against his strong, taut body.

“Calm, my friend,” he said in his pleasant voice,” you cannot kill them… “

“Why not?” Olvárin was fighting to free himself. “he tried to put my ships to fire at his command...” he roared, nodding to Elros and Ereinion.

There was a rush of murmurs among the assembly, all faces turned to the king of the Noldor in exile in horrified rejection.

“You won’t do that, Olvárin, they are your kin…”

“You did that, Ereinion?” Celebrimbor chimed in, wonder and respect in his voice.

“Don’t be a fool!” Ereinion snapped, “of course I didn't!” he added, his anger rising to unhealthy levels. He suddenly felt the urge to bang his head upon the table and get done with it. A good kinslapping was in order now, the young king thought in exasperation.

“How come, my kin!” Olvárin had stopped fighting against Ingil’s iron grip, distracted by the chance of a kinslaying that might not involve his people at the receiving end for once. “I’m not related to those bloody finwions...”

“Mind your words, Olvárin!” Finarfin stood up then, his fair face storm clouded and his voice menacing.

“They’re Elu’s great-great-grandchildren!” Celeborn chimed in, still casting suspicious glances towards Ereinion. “Elwing’s children, for Ulmo’s sake!”

“You’re overreacting!“ Elros was claiming, emboldened by the sure clutch Ingil kept upon the dangerously enraged Telerin prince, “we only tried to cook some fish on board and the mast caught fire, and they saw the smoke…”

It was of little help that Elros started laughing then, no doubt at the memory of what had followed, something everybody could surmise with just one look at Olvárin and Celeborn’s soaked garments, and a mighty roar broke loose as everybody spoke at the same time arguing against or in support of Elros’ explanation.

“Enough!" Ereinion claimed in his most powerful voice, “Enough! Someone please take away Prince Olvárin and explain his family tree to him in full detail, Prince Ingil, I beg of you...”

“Why me?” the usually agreeable High Prince of the Vanyar’s rebellious stance caught everybody by surprise.

“Because you seem to have an effective hold upon him and I wouldn’t see him loose until he has calmed down. King Elros will explain himself to the Prince later on…”

“As you want, Cousin,” Ingil agreed reluctantly, heedless of Olvárin’s heated protests, “but first,“ he added, “I shall need a great sward here,” his long finger pointed at the top of the westernmost cliff in Celebrimbor’s sketched map. “Looking west, for my morning meditation, and I’ll have my halls erected here, facing west, too… And no buildings around from this side to the forest’s edge, please, that’s how I like it… what? “ He added, noticing the silence around him and the blank stares he was receiving. “I’ve decided to remain here, you surely need my help, Cousin!” he offered seriously, patting Ereinion’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Look, the King’s shield!” the young silvan elleth’s voice broke through the astonished silence in the other side of the tent. “I’m Gil-galad! I’m a star of Elbereth! Yield now!”

“No good, those are polished stones, what a star, my Adar calls him Brith-galad!“ (4) Oropher’s son’s voice rebuked her with unconcerned scorn.

The dwarf-lord's axe would have been needed to cut the new wave of silence that spread then like a crawling creature, as Ereinion took three firm strides towards the woollen curtain that separated the sleeping area from the main part of his tent and put it aside to discover the young elves there, playing with his weapons.

“My lord! I... we didn’t...” the three of them looked up in apprehension, too shocked to move or find something else to say.

“Children should not play with weapons,” Ereinion said evenly, sheathing his sword and recovering his spear.

“We’re not children anymore,” Oropher’s son muttered stubbornly. “And we must defend ourselves.”

Ereinion took his shield gently from the elleth’s trembling hand and put it aside.

“You are safe now, young ones,“ he said softly,  “nobody will hurt you here…”

“But my Adar says...”

Ereinion was becoming truly good at hiding his exasperation, Círdan noticed with pride as the young king interrupted the defiant youngster before he could further embarrass his Adar, who was, by the time, blushing furiously.

“I bet your Adar says lots of things, young one, but I’m sure he, too, tells you that weapons must not be unsheathed or wielded inside a tent or a cabin, doesn’t he?”

The rebellious young Sinda lowered his head recognizing the point.

“And I’m sure he also insists that you must not draw another elf’s weapons without his consent, I know he does, for he’s a great warrior, and all warriors know that rule...”

“I want to be a warrior, too…” the youngster said softly, looking properly chastised now.

“I’m sure you will be a good one,“ Ereinion said, pushing them firmly before him and back to the crowded part of the tent where everybody pretended to be very busy looking another way. “But now, I’d appreciate that you would put an end to what brought you here. Lord Elros, please, I expect that you meet with these young advisors, for they have an interesting proposal for your wood supply. Lord Erestor will go with you and put down what agreements you reach, in your tent! now! Elros, if you please! … Lady Galadriel, would you be kind enough to escort your relatives to a quiet place where they won’t be disturbed?” he pleaded silently that she would comply.

“Of course, my lord,” she said, curtsying briefly in front of him. “Come Ingil, I’m sure they shall take your needs into account...” and casting an amused glance around, she pushed them before her and past the expectant crowd, Olvárin still firmly held in Ingil’s strong embrace, followed at a safe distance by Erestor, Elros and the three younger elves.

“Now, my lords,” Ereinion addressed his unruly building team, “please take away those maps and come up with something more accurate, taking into account all the needs that have been expressed here… Lord Elrond will act as secretary and will make sure that you work as a team, and please, do not invade my tent again until you have something to show,“ he added sternly, fixing Celebrimbor’s protest with a stern glance. ”That’s all, you’re dismissed…” he answered their bows patiently as they paraded obediently before him and outside.

"Lord Gundaghâl, please accept my apologies for all... this...” he said, waving around unhappily. “Lord Celeborn here shall meet with you, if he is not otherwise engaged,” he asked, casting a pointed look towards the Sindarin lord, “and will share all your worries about the eastern lands. They want to travel East to Hadhodrond,” he addressed Celeborn’s questioning glance, “and he wants to know what elven and edain realms they might cross on their way, as well as any other dangers they might face on their way. You’re the most knowledgeable elf in camp in those matters, Lord Celeborn, and I guessed you would like to exchange information with Lord Gundaghâl, Lord of Belegost,” he added pointedly.

“It’ll be my pleasure, Lord Gundaghâl,” Celeborn answered cautiously, taking in all the implications in Ereinion’s words. "Shall we meet in my tent?”

“You can join in the architects' debate later on, my lord,” Ereinion smiled, seeing the longing in the Dwarf-lord’s face, “I doubt they shall reach an agreement anytime soon, and surely your counsel shall be appreciated...”

“You’re right, lad,“ the Dwarf laughed out loud, “After you, Lord Celeborn!”

“Lord Oropher will join you, too,“ Ereinion added, carefully studying the still blushing elf, “as self-declared representative of a group of silvan elves, he may be interested in your debates,“ he said slowly, grimacing slightly at the astonished looks both Sindarin lords threw his way. “I expect a fully detailed report of this meeting, Lord Celeborn,” he added, and Celeborn nodded briefly before leading his companions out, bowing to Finarfin and Círdan.

“It wasn’t all that difficult to get rid of them,” he jested lamely, turning his attention to the Shipwright. "Forgive me if I had promised to join you for something, my lord, but I must now meet with my king," Ereinion said softly to Círdan, who was standing by the breakfast table, an amused look upon his bearded face.

“I see you have everything under control,” the mariner answered, putting a reassuring hand upon his foster son’s shoulder. “So I’ll go and try to talk Olvárin and Ingil back to sanity...” he said, grimacing slightly. “I’ll be in the shipyards if you need me, my lord, “ he added, bowing lightly and stepping out.

Ereinion breathed in deeply and turned resolutely to face the dreaded confrontation with his uncle and High King.

“My lord…” he began, kneeling before Finarfin.

TBC

Notes:

(1) This from a piece sleeping deep inside my hard disk (my pc’s, of course..) As far as the outline goes, a group of Noldorin exiles, with some Telerin and Naugrim help, –including relatives and close friends- helped Finrod erect the tower of Barad Nimras in the Havens during their first years in ME, before the completion of Nargothrond and Gondolin. Fingon meets his wife there.

(2) Hadhodrond: elven for Khazad-Dûm; later Moria, the legendary city of the dwarves in the East.

(3) Lord Azaghâl, Lord of Belegost, he led the dwarven army in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and was killed by Glaurung.

(4) Gil-galad means "star of radiance". Oropher came across this other less appealing anessë, which means "pebble of radiance."