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Chapter 4.  Gossip-queen

Celebrían stepped off the low porch into the selers’ walled garden, instantly drawn away from the worn stoop by the ever-so-faint scent of lembas corn on the cooling air of the advancing evening.  She would never have expected this tiny community to have the time to tend a planting large enough to make its presence thus known.  As the sun slipped further below the horizon and stars tentatively peeked out into the transforming sky, she walked the winding pathways in a pleasant casual search for the corn patch.  An unaware observer would have thought that the lovely lady was only enjoying an aimless turn in the open air after dining.

A variety of trees, in all stages of growth from sapling to ruinous age, were spread throughout the compact grounds.  Their placement might have seemed unplanned, but Celebrían could see that was not so.  Tall, intersecting hedgerows obscured the outer walls and subdivided the inner area into numerous smaller plots, rather like a maze, beguiling one’s sense of distance and direction.  The kitchen garden itself looked regimentally well-tended, but at present there was no one to show it off to her.  A simple wellspring and basin sat midway along the swervy main walkway that led to a locked gate, which she knew must exit into the farmyard.

Everywhere were the signs of epochal occupation; sunken pavers, leaning rock walls, sloping stone benches, and the rough made shiny smooth from millions of fleeting touches.  All of these objects were of ordinary construction, never having been imbued with durability by a master builder.  As in the poorer parts of Tirion, the place had a neglected quaintness that came from worn-down things that were infrequently replaced.

Since the house was already surrounded by high walls, what she sought she would not have thought intentionally hidden.  After her exploratory tour without finding the source of the elusive aroma, she turned to studying the grass and paths for any traces by which she could track down the location.  When she found the crop close to the south wall – deftly concealed but not well enough to evade one of the Galadhrim – it was a very small plot indeed.  The strong fragrance bespoke of a robust strain of plant.  Standing relaxed and motionless, she sank herself into inner stillness; letting what residual heat that remained in the ripening grain rise and lazily flow around her.  When that warmth dispersed and she felt the plants coming to rest for the night, she bent down and plucked a single kernel; husking it between her rolling fingers with practiced ease.  Its flavor flooded over her tongue before she even bit down on it to bruise the bran.

“So, what do you think, Aranel?” asked Ulbanís as she came to stand beside the princess.  Celebrían had hardly heard her approach.  Quietness was a useful skill for a sister as well as a scout, she assumed.

“Aromatic.  Substantial.  Sweet.  Plump rather than middle-sized.”  She ran her fingers along the spry awn of the nearest stalk.  “A good choice for a small grower.  Reminds me of a heritage variety, Asar Asto.”

“Yes, exactly!  You were Yavannildi as well as... what is it in Sindarin... besain?” asked the aramillë.

“Not exactly,” she explained.  “A basdan – one of a sort of lay order and guild to be found only in the larger cities of Ennor.  We made plainer breads.”   She donned a slightly feline smile.  “And, aided the Ivonwin – as they are named in Sindarin.”

“Ah,” Ulbanís knowingly smiled.  “A greater need than can be met by the ordained maidens of the queen?  East or West, it seems that there are always too few participants in the production of coimas to meet the demand.”

“Yes, exactly,” replied Celebrían with sarcastic amusement, and then spit out the seed. 

The night had come full on and brilliant stars cast a soft glimmer over the top of the encircling hedges.  The two matrons looked at one another, faintly limed by the pale reflection cast by the slumbering corn.

“This is also by necessity,” the aramillë explained, indicating the tiny crop with a wide sweep of her hand.  “The village is far from any massánie’s oversight.” 

Ulbanís was freely admitting what was already obvious to Celebrían – that the seler was not authorized to grow or make the blessed bread, let alone distribute it.  But, how else would her guesthouse have a reliable supply?  No doubt, she gave it to the needy of the village as well.

“Even so, Aramillë, I shall not ask if you were ever Yavannildi.” 

They laughed together as fellow conspirators.  Both were guardians of this sacred gift, but just too pragmatic to act overly pious about it.  Celebrían would never tell anyone that she had found corn growing here.  Ulbanís would never say that the lady had seen it and done nothing about it.  Earlier, Celebrían had been preoccupied with Rostaro and so had not formed an opinion of Ulbanís.  Unsurprisingly after this short and frank conversation, she found the aramillë very likable and decided to seek her friendship along with the knowledge that had piqued her from the moment Elrond revealed his promised errantry for Glorfindel.

“I beg to change the subject,” she lightly pleaded.  Ulbanís nodded in agreement, clearly anticipating what subject Celebrían would broach when given the chance.  “I hope the content of Glorfindel’s letter was less shocking then its arrival.”

“Not exactly,” grinned Ulbanís as she slipped a friendly arm through her guest’s and began to lead her away.  “Let us sit and talk about that.”  Celebrían grinned too.  The seler apparently had questions of her own, which presented the excellent prospect of a fair – possibly extensive – exchange of information.

“My lord would call it gossiping”, the lady said as they shimmied through the protective hedge.

“I like your lord,” replied the aramillë, adroitly adjusting the foliage to remove any signs of their passage.  “Delivering the letter aside, he was very kind to treat Varnëcil’s knee, especially in his weary state.”

“He enjoyed being of help.”  Her generous husband was resting from his labors by perusing the small shelf of books and scrolls in the selers’ sitting room.  Something that would not take him very long to do even if he read every one of them.

“As with coimas, the village also cannot depend upon being visited by a master healer,” said Ulbanís.  “But fortunately, one who was born there will soon be returning from training and start his journey work in this region.”

“People had to come to us and my lord always wished it otherwise.  I had to be strict and allow him only one apprentice at a time else he would have overworked himself by personally trying to send a healer to every habitation in Eriador.”

The seler took Celebrían’s arm again and they headed back to the main path.

“You should guide him away from enlisting in any institutional hospital.  Their rules would upset him.  He would be much happier privately offering his healing skills.”

“I will be sure that he considers your advice when he contemplates taking up the occupation again.  As someday, he most certainly will.  What advice do you have for me, Aramillë?”

“For you, Lady Celebrian, I have no advice that, I am certain, you have not already heard from wiser counselors.  Rather, I should advise myself to be alert during our dealings.  You know how to weigh the worth of what you want.  Therefore in our exchange, I must not expect to get what I want on the cheap.”

“But please, let us set aside such worries and formalities.  Let us be friends,” Celebrían sincerely offered.  “We can share our caches and thus make a more pleasant repast for us both.”

“Vaírë, rest thy hand!” joked the seler, pretending a shocked wariness.  “Why are you are such a hurry?  For we have plenty of time to negotiate and enjoy our purchases.  No one, certainly not I, would ask an invited guest to leave at first light.”

Celebrían laughed, pleased that the seler felt so at ease with her that she would make fun.  Ulbanís slowed their walk and, with a polite gesture, invited her to have a seat on an unadorned bench with a view of the fount.

“ ‘Tis simple gratification,” Celebrían admitted with a mock royal air meant to entertain her hostess.  “Why, I said to my lord only this afternoon that I have lost all patience with waiting upon events to unfold at their own pace.  From now on, I would force the blooms – merely to please myself.”  She feigned a petulant sigh and settled down in queenly fashion, elegantly draping her skirt around her.  A successfully amused aramillë sat down beside her.  “I may have graduated out from Lórien but am a wretched backslider.”

Ulbanís’ blithesome laugh astonished Celebrían as she caught a glimpse of the seler’s innate maternal grace.  She no longer wondered why the aramillë was so loved by those she cared for.  The Light within the Vanya was luminous, even compared to Celebrían’s naneth and adar combined.  The revelation passed so swiftly, Celebrían was not completely sure she had seen what she thought she had seen.  Although long practiced into a true skill, Ulbanís seemed unconscious of her power – or perhaps she was too familiar with such radiance. 

“I think,” she said sagely, “you and Lord Elrond are both entitled to do as you please for a while.”  The seler’s hands were neatly tucked together inside her rolled-down sleeves.  She looked challengingly into the lady’s eyes.  “Shall we begin?”

“Certainly.”  Celebrían’s folded hands rested lightly upon her lap.  “What may I to bring to the table since you will be providing the main course?”

“Oh, a simple side-dish will suffice...  Such as how to put recalcitrant babies to sleep without any difficulty.”

“Naught else?  Really, Amillë, then I am buying on the cheap.  Elrond thinks it a wood-elf trick because, like any with a shielded heart, he has had difficulty with it.  However, I am sure that you can master it and quickly.”

“Then, as you are being openhanded, perhaps one thing more.  Which I will name after you have asked your questions.”

“Now, I suspect you of a trick,” she responded, her eyes sparkling.  They laughed, thoroughly enjoying their game.  “Nonetheless, I trust your integrity and will give you that option.”

“Ask then and I will answer as best I can.  Because, as you must know, there are confidences I cannot repeat.”

“I do understand for I have the same consideration to make.  Glorfindel is my friend too.  We are agreed that the letter itself represents the questionable subject matter.”  Ulbanís nodded.  “Given that... Do you know what became of him after he left here?”

“Not after the last time,” answered the seler, shaking her head.  Which told Celebrían that Glorfindel had visited Ulbanís several times after being reborn and released.  That did not surprise her, but she knew that it might not sit well with some people’s sense of propriety.  “He was supposed to go to Ilmarin and beg an audience.  He disappeared while awaiting an answer.  Never another word nor sight of him and I did talk to many.  I came to believe his rebellion had gotten him returned to Mandos, either through violence or drowning.  But sadly, by following my advice.”

“I am sorry to hear that you have bore such a burden of undeserved guilt all this time,” sympathized Celebrían.  “Did he tell what happened?  Was it not forbidden for a quende of Aman to sail beyond Eldalondë?  And someone reborn, at that?”  The smiling seler nodded in confirmation.  “Nevertheless, there he was, on our doorstep.”  Ulbanís smile brightened.

“Oh well, you see,” the aramillë was excited to say and shifted in her seat so that she might lean more confidentially toward Celebrían.  “The Valar let him go.  Thus, solving both Theirs and his quandaries.  It does not do to have a deadly warrior, especially one of the Vanyar purified through re-embodiment, running about inciting peaceful people to study violence.”

“No, I can see the problems that might cause!  However, I must say that I have never seen Glorfindel as that sort of tragic character.”

“They had brought him out of the Halls of Waiting with the purpose of readying for war with Melkor.  However afterwards, as with some warriors, Laurefindë had no suitable course to follow in Aman.  In Endor, he had had a strong role and therefore peace of mind.”

“Yet, for someone sent to watch over my lord, he seemed to be there entirely on his own.  I always suspected that he crossed back without permission of any kind,” Celebrían confessed.

“Admittedly, that was my suspicion too, for it was not beyond him back then.  However, I feared he had not completed the journey.  It turns out that he was permitted a chosen mission – to serve Eärendil’s heirs.  To resume his oath.”

“Resume his oath?” Celebrían pondered, and then felt embarrassed at her slow thinking.  Eärendil’s heirs were also Turgon’s heirs.  “He was always one of Turgon’s captains?”

“When Laurefindë was old enough, he left Taniquetil for Finwë’s court as had a few other Vanyar who followed Indris.  Being young, he naturally became part of the younger son’s crowd.  It was there he began to learn combat and warfare.  He found Turgon a worthy prince and pledged himself to his service.”

“So, he was not kin to any of them except by marriage?”

“Neither Indis nor Elenwë is his kin.  He simply wished to have a different life than that of most Vanyar... ”

“To make a difference in the world... ”

“Yes,” said Ulbanis.  “You understand.”

“So, that is how it was he rose to fly his own banner in Gondolin and not under Fingolfin or Fingon as would be expected of someone such as he.”  Celebrían paused at a new thought.  “Elrond is only the younger son.  Not being able to undertake the protection of Elros or his mortal heirs must have disappointed our friend.”

“He expressed no disappointment at all in his letter.  Nor, apparently, to you.”

“Did he tell you how he arrived in Ennor?”

“He alluded to finding work with a Númenórean free trader and taking ship to a harbor named Vinyalondë and from there to a city called Tharbad.  He made his way to Lindon from there.”

“That port has become known as Lond Daer.  Tharbad was a trade crossroads. Both have greatly declined.  But, with the return of the King, they may return to their former vitality.  At the time Glorfindel arrived there, Ost-in-Edhil was still ruled by my parents and Lord Celebrimbor.  For you see, our friend did come first to Eregion and stayed awhile before going on.  That is where we first met.  Before the rings were made... “ her thoughts drifted a little.  “The Three for the three... you will have heard very little of all that… ”

“Nothing at all!” said Ulbanís, intrigued.  “Laurefindë mentioned nothing of other rings of power except those of the wraiths.  Oh, we certainly must come back to this!” she said before asking a question of her own.  “But, did not Lady Galadriel or Lord Celebrimbor immediately recognize him?”

“Oh, Naneth did, despite what she called a calculated difference in his appearance.  Lord Celebrimbor did not until he had had time to observe him.”  Remembering abruptly made her laugh in an unladylike way.  She came close to snorting which, from Ulbanís’ joyful smile, only served to further endear her to the seler.  “It entertained Ada no end to have Glorfindel – the Balrog-slayer! – serving under him as an enlisted swordsman.”

“A common soldier?!  I cannot believe it!” cried Ulbanís, laughing.  “His pride would not take it!”

“Well, it was difficult for him.  Lord Celeborn saw to that!  But, ‘twas done to keep his new identity believable.  Eventually, he was bestowed a captain’s rank and sent off with a letter of recommendation to Gil-galad.  After all, he could not just show up and be made a commander without other Eldar becoming suspicious that he was his own namesake.”

“So,” the seler mischievously smiled.  “You spent time together.”

“Yes,” Celebrían admitted, trying not to grin and blushing slightly anyway.  “Really, Amillë!  I had not yet met my husband and had become unattached.  It served as a very believable excuse for my parents to send him off instead of advancing him further within their realm.”  She smiled good-humoredly.  “The family kept his secret... along with so many other secrets.  There were those that suspected when he vanquished the Witch-king of Angmar, but none truly knew until after the Ring was destroyed.  Still, how cruel of him not to have written you until now.”

“He claims not to bear the blame for that.  The limitation was placed upon him.”

“Yes, I can see that.  As wIth the Istari and knowledge of the Elven-rings, it would have been very unwise to let the Enemy know, by carelessness or an intercepted message, precisely what forces were being ranged against him.  It turned out to be dangerous enough with only a handful aware of all these truths.”

“We shall definitely be talking more about these rings.  But now,” insisted the aramillë, “ask me what is really on your mind.”

“Very well.”  Celebrian did not worry over her slightly lascivious smile.  “In his letter, did Glorfindel mention any elleth in particular?”

“Aside from yourself?  H’mm, let me see... “ the seler thoughtfully recalled.   “Why yes... several.  However, none that could be described as particular.”  Undaunted by the evasive answer, Celebrían tried a more round-about tact with a straight-forward question.

“Did you give Rostaro his name?”

“Is that not outside the subject?”  Another deliberate avoidance.

“Is it?” she pressed.  If the aramillë, and not his foster-parents, had given him his name, then it was sure to be an insightful one.  Ulbanís might be able to recognize a kinship to someone else she had met.

“Actually... ” the seler smiled, deciding to end her mischievous dodging.  “It is.  The child is not his.  Though we both might wish he was.  Nonetheless, you intrigue me with the possibility.”

“If Glorfindel did not include that information in his letter to you, we are indeed outside the subject, I am afraid,” stated Celebrian, disappointed and not being playfully vague.

“I am tempted to expend my option on gaining the particular’s name,” admitted Ulbanís.  “However, I will refrain and think of a different question for later.”

“Thank you, Amillë.  Perhaps, we should discuss another subject for a while.  My lord is upon the path in pursuit of me and shall arrive soon, I think.”

“Really?  Maybe how you know that at this distance will be what I shall ask of you later.  For now, why not begin to instruct me in how to encourage apparently tireless lapsi to sleep.”

Elrond came upon them deep in discussion about whether induced sleep was beneficial or detrimental to a child’s health and growth.  If he did not know that they had met only a few hours ago, he would have thought them lifelong friends.

In a way, he was annoyed.  He had hoped to hear them talking about what was in Glorfindel’s letter.  But, if Celebrían was not going to pry... well, he most certainly was not!

Epilogue…

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Author’s Notes:

All elvish is in Sindarin unless otherwise indicated and underlined means I put it together myself – corrections and comments are welcome!

aranel – princess Quenya

Asar Asto – celebration flour festival dust Quenya

Ivonwin – Yavannildi, the maidens of Yavanna who grow the lembas corn

lembas – the extraordinary kind of way-bread made of a special grain gifted by Yavanna to the Eldar for their Great Journey (coimas Quenya)

basdan – bread-maker , a member of the Gwaith-i-Basdain – Guild of the Bread-makers

besain – the Breadgiver - the chief elven-woman or lady who is charged with the keeping and gift of lembas

massánie – the Breadgiver Quenya

amillë/amil/amm‎ë – mater/mother/mom Quenya

aramillë – mother superior high mother Quenya

lapsi – babies Quenya  (plural of lapsë)

seler/toron – sister/brother who is not a sibling Quenya

Ulbanís and Rostaro are OCs from another fanfic: Beech Leaves.