78: Iaun Araw

Olwë, Lindarion, Beleg and Elennen stretched out upon the grass beside the pool and let the sun dry them. They were feeling relaxed, their eyes closed as the warmth of the sun seeped into their bodies, so none of them saw the group of elves dressed in greens and greys and armed with bows  and spears approach. Beleg felt the tip of a spear touch his shoulder and reacted automatically, reaching up to grab the spear shaft with both hands while at the same time curling his legs and thrusting at the midriff of the person holding the spear, all before he even opened his eyes. There was a surprised grunt from the spear’s owner as he was pushed back, releasing his hold on it. Beleg leapt up with the weapon now pointed at the hapless ellon, who was now lying on his back staring up in befuddlement at the former Marchwarden. It was only then that Beleg saw that Olwë, Lindarion and Elennen were surrounded by elves pointing spears and arrows at them.

One of the stranger elves gave him an appraising look. “Impressive,” he said in Sindarin, “but rather futile. As you can see, you are surrounded. I suggest you give the spear back to Denu.”

“Who are you and what do you intend to do with us?” Olwë demanded just then, his expression more angry than afraid, but the elf who had spoken gave him a blank look.

“Why do you speak the tongue of the invaders?” he asked Olwë, still speaking Sindarin.

Beleg raised an eyebrow. “You are Nandor, aren’t you?” he asked, still holding the spear.

“I am Dairuin, once of Ossiriand,” the leader said, “and you are our prisoners.”

“Beleg, what is he saying?” Olwë asked. “And do you think we can dress in the meantime? I do not appreciate standing here naked with spears and arrows pointed at me.”

Dairuin gave them a quizzical look, but when Beleg swiftly translated Olwë’s words he smiled and nodded. “Dress,” he said, motioning towards their clothes which were neatly folded beside the pool. He motioned for his fellow Nandor to step back and Beleg handed the spear to Denu, who had risen, giving the ellon a dangerous smile, before going to his clothes. Olwë, Lindarion and Elennen followed.

“The leader is called Dairuin,” Beleg said softly as the four ellyn quickly dressed. “These are Nandor, once of Ossiriand. I have never had any dealings with them before.”

“Why do they threaten us with weapons?” Lindarion asked.

“Dairuin says we are his prisoners,” Beleg answered.

Before any of the Teleri could respond, Dairuin stepped forward, gesturing imperiously. “Enough jabbering. You must come with us.”

“Where do you take us?” Beleg demanded.

“You will see,” the Nando replied and then he addressed his fellows, speaking a Silvan dialect that Beleg did not understand, and soon they were being led away from the pool, heading deeper into the forested hills.

****

“Any sign of them?” Arafinwë asked, looking worried and frustrated.

Finrod shook his head. “We searched the entire harbor area, but no one claims to have seen them.”

It was now early evening, though the sun was still high in the western sky. Everyone had returned to the villa at the agreed-upon time only to discover that Olwë, Lindarion, Beleg and Elennen were missing. Arafinwë had immediately ordered a search, dividing them into four groups. Gilvagor and Haldir, being familiar with the city, led two of the search parties, while Berethrandir and Brethorn, who had accompanied Finrod back to the villa, led the other two. Berethrandir’s group was still out but the other three search parties had returned to the villa with no news of the missing.

“Where could they have gone?” Ingwion demanded. “Avallónë is not that large. Surely someone should have seen them.”

Finrod shrugged. “Apparently not. As far as we can determine, they never made it to the harbor.”

“Could they have gone elsewhere?” Alassiel asked. “Though, where would they have gone if not to the harbor?”

“They could have decided to just wander through the city,” Gilvagor suggested, “but then someone would have noticed them, strangers that they are. Yet, none to whom we spoke remember seeing them.”

Arafinwë frowned in thought. “Is there anyone in the city to whom we can appeal for help to broaden the search? If they are nowhere in the city they may have wandered into the hills.”

“Even if that is so, why have they not returned?” Finrod asked. “Anatar would not let them go too far, knowing that we would expect them back at the appointed time.”

“Perhaps they encountered some trouble,” Sador suggested.

“And just what sort of trouble could they possibly get themselves into?” Pelendur enquired.

“They have a Reborn with them,” Glorfindel replied with a snort. “Anything could have happened.”

“That does not comfort me in any way,” Arafinwë said grimly.

“Beleg and Ingwion somehow knew when Finrod was in trouble,” Haldir said, giving Ingwion a significant stare.

“Ingwion, have you felt anything similar to what you sensed when Finrod was attacked?” Arafinwë asked, but Ingwion just shook his head.

“Nor do I sense anything,” Finrod said. “What about you, Sador? Glorfindel? Laurendil?”

But all three ellyn shook their heads.

“So they are not in any danger,” Pelendur said, “at least none that is life-threatening.”

“That still does not comfort me,” Arafinwë said.

Just about then, Berethrandir and his party returned, the ellon looking excited. “Did you find them?” Sador asked.

“No,” the ellon replied, “but we met someone who remembers seeing four strangers walking up into the hills. He showed us the road they took.”

Then Glorfindel gestured to Finrod. “Come. Grab your sword. We may need our weapons.”

“I’m coming with you,” Sador exclaimed.

“As will I,” Ingwion said.

“Neither of you is armed,” Finrod pointed out.

Before the two ellyn could protest, Berethrandir spoke up. “Lord Ithildor has several weapons that you can use. I know where they are stored.”

“Why would Lord Ithildor have weapons?” Ingwion asked.

“Who cares?” Sador exclaimed. “Come. We are wasting time. Berethrandir, show us Lord Ithildor’s weapons.”

“There’s just one thing,” Berethrandir said, now looking uneasy. “The road they are said to have taken... it leads to only one place.”

“And where is that?” Arafinwë asked.

“It is called ‘Iaun Araw’,” the ellon replied.

The Sindarin speakers all raised eyebrows at that and Brethorn frowned. “That’s not good.”

At the grim looks on Brethorn’s and Berethrandir’s faces Arafinwë sighed and said to no one in particular, “Somehow I get the feeling I’m not going to like the answer to my next question.”

****

The Nandor brought their prisoners far into the woods. Not even Beleg was sure where they were in relation to Avallónë but suspected that they were only a few leagues from the city based on the length of time it had taken them to traverse the forest. Of the four prisoners, he was the only one who felt most at home and memories of earlier and darker woods filled his mind. Olwë presented a disinterested air to their captors, remaining cooly polite. His regal bearing gave the Nandor pause and they were careful to treat the four ellyn with respect. Elennen walked beside Lindarion, giving him a hand, for the Telerin prince was unused to the forest.

“Rather reminds me of the Great Journey,” Elennen said at one point, “walking through uncharted woods.”

“Except we walked always under starlight,” Olwë said.

“No dínen!” Dairuin commanded. Beleg did not bother to translate, for it was obvious even to the three Teleri what the Nando had said and so they continued walking in silence.

Eventually they came to a stand of trees that turned out to be inhabited by other Nandor. Flets could be seen high in the branches and Dairuin led them to one where a rope ladder was lowered and they were ordered to climb. At the top they were herded into a hut and left to themselves with Denu, who spoke Sindarin, standing guard at the doorway. The four prisoners looked about them with interest.

The hut was apparently a guardhouse, consisting as it did of only two rooms, the larger room apparently where the guards ate and slept; the smaller room being a store room. There were no chairs but there were cushions and the four ellyn sat on them.

“So what happens now?” Lindarion asked. “Why are we their prisoners?”

Beleg shrugged. “I do not know, but I don’t think they were happy about us swimming in that pool.”

After a time, Dairuin returned and gestured for them to follow him. They climbed back down to the ground, finding themselves surrounded yet again by armed ellyn and followed Dairuin into a clearing where several scores of people were gathered near a lit fire, for by now the sun had dipped behind the hills to the west, leaving the woods in twilit gloom. The prisoners were made to sit on the ground to one side while Dairon stood before the other Nandor and began speaking.

“Do you know what he’s saying?” Olwë whispered to Beleg.

The Sinda shook his head. “He’s speaking a dialect that is unfamiliar to me,” he said, “though there are some words that are similar to Sindarin. He keeps mentioning the ‘iaun Araw’.”

“What’s that?” Lindarion asked.

Beleg shrugged. “I don’t know the word in Quenya. ‘Araw’ is the name we gave to Lord Oromë. An ‘iaun’ is... a...um... a special place. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to describe it. There were none in Doriath nor among the wandering companies of Sindar. I think it’s something particular to the Nandor.”

“‘Iaun’....” Olwë tried the word out, saying it slowly, as if in doing so its meaning would become clear. “A special place that is apparently associated with Lord Oromë.”

“Why Lord Oromë, though?” Lindarion asked. “Pools are usually associated with the Lord of Waters.”

“Actually, it makes sense,” Elennen said. “Until any of us reached Valinor, the only Vala we knew was Lord Oromë. The Nandor split from us when we reached the Great River. Our only knowledge of the Valar was what Lord Oromë told us about them, but for the most part, they were just names. The Nandor came into Beleriand late, from what I understand, long after we had left its shores." Beleg gave him a nod and he continued. “Only the oldest of them would remember Lord Oromë, so it stands to reason that whatever this...this ‘iaun’ is, they would dedicate it to the only Vala of whom they had any knowledge.”

Olwë nodded. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t help us any.”

“I wonder what the penalty is for disturbing an iaun,” Beleg wondered out loud.

“I think we’re about to find out,” Olwë said, for Dairuin had finished his speech and now all eyes were on them.

****

“It’s a fane,” Laurendil said as they gathered around the pool, “most likely dedicated to Lord Oromë. See the oak?”

“And you say that it is a Nandorin custom?” Arafinwë asked.

Laurendil nodded. “Apparently it is something that they came up with on their travels,” he said. “There was a fane on Tol Galen and no one was allowed there except the Nandor. Not even Beren or Lúthien were permitted to visit it for all that Beren had become the lord of the Nandor in that region.”

“So, what do you think happened?” Finrod asked, kneeling down to look more closely at the ground around the pool.

“They probably went swimming,” Glorfindel said as he approached the group of searchers. He had wandered off while everyone else had gathered around the pool. “It was a warm enough day and the pool would have been inviting. I found this.” He opened his hand and showed them a spiral seashell.

“Beleg,” Sador said. “I remember him showing it to me. He found it on a beach near Alqualondë and always carries it.”

“Where did you find it?” Arafinwë asked.

Glorfindel pointed to the western edge of the clearing. “There’s a path, very faint and almost non-existent, but it’s there.”

“Then let us continue our search,” Arafinwë said and Glorfindel led the way to where he had found the seashell.

****

Dairuin gestured for the four prisoners to rise and come forward. He looked at Beleg. “You will translate for your fellows.” Beleg nodded.

Then one of the people gathered by the fire, an elleth, spoke. “I am Laeglîr, Speaker for this community of Garth Hallâd.”

She paused to allow Beleg to translate. “I think that means she is their leader,” he added.

Then she continued, speaking slowly enough for Beleg to translate. “You were found violating the Iaun Araw, the penalty for which has usually been death.”

When Beleg translated, Olwë raised an eyebrow. “So ye would be kinslayers?” he asked formally, his tone frigid and forbidding.

The Nandor stirred at his words and Laeglîr grimaced. “We are no kinslayers.”

“Yet thou dost threaten us with death,” Olwë said, still speaking formally, his eyes narrowing.

“You desecrated the iaun....”

“Unknowingly,” Beleg interjected, not bothering to translate. “We were not aware of its significance and meant no disrespect.”

“All those of the city know....” Dairuin interjected.

“Since we are not from the city, we cannot be expected to know,” Beleg said, giving the ellon a cold look. “We are visitors from Aman and were wandering through the city, coming upon the road that led to the iaun. The pool was inviting and so we took advantage of it. Perhaps if you had put a sign up letting people know....”

“Bah!” Laeglîr exclaimed in disgust. “This is getting us nowhere. Ignorance is not an excuse.”

“Indeed?” Olwë said, raising an eyebrow, once Beleg quickly explained to the Teleri what had been said. “Then the fact that you are ignorant of our identities is also no excuse for the way we are being threatened. Should I punish you for this?”

“But we are not the prisoners,” Laeglîr said primly, “and we are not interested in your identities. That you are of the Third Clan is obvious, but beyond that....” She gave them an elegant shrug.

Before anyone could say anything more, there was a stir as several people entered the clearing. Everyone turned to see a grim-looking Glorfindel dragging an unconscious Nando by the collar of his tunic, dumping him on the ground before the assembly. Behind him came Finrod, Ingwion and Sador, along with Laurendil, Gilvagor, Mithlas, Haldir, Brethorn and Arafinwë. All of them were armed and were herding several Nandorin guards who had sheepish expressions on their faces.

Glorfindel toed the unconscious ellon lying at his feet as he glared at the Nandor before him. “He resisted after I asked politely to take us to you,” he explained, speaking Sindarin.

Laeglîr gave him a jaundiced look and softly ordered that the unconscious guard be taken to his flet to be seen to. Two ellyn came forward and Glorfindel stepped aside to allow them to take their fellow away. Then he turned to Beleg. “Are you well, gwador?”

“They were discussing killing us,” Beleg answered with a shrug.

“Oh?” Glorfindel said, giving the Nandor a hard stare. “Any particular reason why?”

“We... uh... went swimming,” Beleg answered, giving them an embarrassed look.

Then Finrod stepped forward, his stance imperious. “Who leads these people?” he demanded.

Laeglîr stepped forward. “I am the Speaker for our community.”

“Your name?” Finrod demanded.

“Laeglîr Maethlawiel,” she replied proudly, as if she expected them to know who she was.

Finrod gave her a nod of his head. “Laeglîr Maethlawiel, I am Finrod Felagund and you are holding my kinsmen prisoners.”

There was a stir among the Nandor and Laeglîr’s eyes widened. “My adar told me of having met you once when you were wandering through Ossiriand.”

Finrod nodded. “Yes. I met some of your people soon after crossing Sarn Athrad who told me of the presence of strange people encamped at the foot of the mountains.”

“The Firiath,” Laeglîr said with a scowl. “Hewers of wood and hunters of beasts. They would destroy all, these followers of Morgoth.”

“Not all followed Morgoth,” Finrod retorted. “The Edain were ever loyal to the Belain and the elves and deadly foes of Morgoth.”

“Well, we’re not here to discuss Mortals,” Glorfindel intervened before Laeglîr could respond to Finrod’s words. “We are here to succor our friends and determine what should be done with you.”

“Done with us?” Laeglîr demanded, her temper rising. “What mean you? We have done nothing....”

“Save kidnap the King of the Teleri and his heir and threaten them with death,” Glorfindel responded, staring at the assembled Nandor with cold calculation, fingering the hilt of his sword in an idle manner that fooled no one there.

Laeglîr looked uncertainly between the four prisoners and their would-be rescuers. The other Nandor murmured amongst themselves. “We did not bother to ask who they were....” she began.

“Which was your second mistake,” Glorfindel said with disdain. Then he turned to Finrod. “Well, I’m ready to leave. How about you?”

Finrod arched an eyebrow at his gwador, his mouth quirked in a slight smile. “But we’ve just arrived,” he quipped.

“They despoiled the iaun,” Dairuin exclaimed angrily, pointing at Olwë and the other three ellyn. “They should be punished....”

“By death?” Finrod demanded. “A little severe, don’t you think?”

“They should have known,” Laeglîr answered. “They should have felt....”

Finrod turned to Olwë, speaking Quenya. “Did you feel anything special about the pool, Anatar? Did any of you?”

Olwë shook his head, as did Lindarion and Elennen. Beleg was the one who spoke. “The only thing we felt was how inviting the water looked with the day being so warm. We did not sense anything else.”

“Except how peaceful the place was,” Olwë added, “but beyond that, nothing.”

Then Laurendil stepped forward. “It seems to me that since the iaun is dedicated to Lord Araw, perhaps we should ask him if he was offended by our friends swimming in the pool.”

Without warning, there was a flash of multi-colored lights too bright for any of the elves to look upon and they all had to turn away. When the light dimmed and they could see again, they found Lord Oromë standing in their midst, his expression one of amusement. “I was wondering when you would get around to asking my opinion, my children,” he said and such was the power of his presence that, though he spoke Sindarin, those who knew only Quenya still understood his words.

The members of the Progress all gave the Vala their obeisance. The Nandor, however, were rooted to the spot, shock written upon their fair faces, shock and dread. Oromë gazed upon them with benevolence. “Fear not, my children,” he said mildly. “I do not come to punish but to instruct.” He focused his gaze upon Laeglîr, and though his expression was loving, she moaned and would have collapsed had not Dairuin caught her. “Come here, Laeglîr,” Oromë said, gesturing to her and in spite of her reluctance, she came. Oromë put a finger under her chin and tilted her head.

“You have been a wise and faithful leader of these people,” he said, “safeguarding them in this fair garth, but in hiding away in the woods you have become narrow-minded and close-hearted, demanding that even strangers know your laws and prohibitions, threatening them with death, something we Valar would never countenance.”

“The punishment has always been death, lord,” Laeglîr said faintly.

“And in your time you have killed those who came inadvertently upon your various ioen,” Oromë said with a nod, “though they were mostly orcs and the occasional Mortal, but none of the Firstborn has ever suffered so. Why would you threaten them now with such?”

“We wished to convey to them the seriousness of their offense against thee, lord,” Laeglîr answered.

“Against me?” Oromë echoed. “The offense was never against me, child, only against you and what you perceived as being offensive, without ever consulting me about it. The orcs would indeed have profaned your sacred places, but the Mortals who came upon them did so in ignorance and most would have left in reverence had you but taken the time to instruct them rather than summarily executing them.” He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Well, that is in the past. Let us speak of the here and now. No offense was intended by these four. Indeed, I enticed them there so that they might enjoy the pool.”

“Thou didst entice us?” Olwë asked. “Why?”

The Vala gave him a knowing smile. “Lessons, my son, lessons for you all.” He turned back to Laeglîr and the Nandor. “You live on an island amongst your fellow elves, hiding away in the hills, keeping apart from all others. Yet, you cannot live in isolation any longer. It did not work in Beleriand, there at the end, and it will not work here. Nor can you arrogate for yourselves something that was meant for all. The pool does not belong to the Nandor exclusively. It was meant to be enjoyed by any who reside in and around Avallónë.”

The Nandor looked troubled; the other elves kept their expressions neutral. “I think it’s time we returned to the villa,” Arafinwë said then. “That is, with thy leave, lord.” He gave Oromë a bow.

“I think it would be best,” Oromë said with a nod. “Let these good people think on what has happened and what has been said.” He gave them all a beatific smile, his gaze lingering somewhat upon Sador and Beleg, both of whom looked uncomfortable at the Vala’s regard, and then he was simply not there.

For a moment, no one moved, then Laeglîr sighed and gave the Amanians a flustered look. “I... I...”

Olwë stepped forward, placing a finger on her lips. “There is naught to be said.” He paused to let Beleg translate. “We will leave now. Perhaps someday we will meet again as friends.”

With that, he turned away and the others did as well, leaving the Nandor standing about, looking confused and uncertain, though Laeglîr’s expression was now more thoughtful. As they were leaving, Glorfindel fished the seashell from a pouch on his belt, handing it to Beleg. “This is yours, by the way. Thanks for dropping it. It saved us a lot of time.”

“I wasn’t sure if anyone would find it,” Beleg said as he took the seashell, “but it was all I could think to do.”

“We are very glad that you did,” Arafinwë said. “Now, if we hurry we might be just in time for dessert,” he added slyly and there was laughter all around as they made their way through the woods back to Avallónë.

****

Words are Sindarin.

Iaun Araw: The Fane of Oromë. Fane = holy place, sanctuary, temple. The plural is ioen.

No dínen!: ‘Be silent!’

Garth Hallâd: Shady Wood Stronghold.

Firiath: Mortals (collective plural); literally, ‘Those apt to die’.