80: The Second Day in Avallónë

Sador woke the next morning to find Arafinwë sitting by his bed. The ellon felt embarrassed and tried to apologize for his outburst of the previous night.

“There is nothing to apologize for, hinya,” Arafinwë said kindly. “Beleg is well and unharmed. You need not fear for him.”

“I know,” Sador said, nodding as he climbed out of bed to don a robe, “but still, when he went missing....”

Arafinwë stood and went to the ellon, wrapping his arms around him and giving him a warm hug. “It is well,” he assured Sador. “Do not worry so.”

“Do you think the Valar are angry at me for what I said?” Sador asked then, his expression one of concern.

Arafinwë smiled fondly at him. “No. I do not think they are angry at you, child. They quite understand. Now, why don’t you get dressed and come have breakfast? I saw Beleg sitting in a tree somewhere in the garden. Maybe you can convince him to come down and join us?”

“Why is he in a tree?” Sador asked.

Arafinwë shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him yourself, for I have no idea.”

Sador nodded and went in search of the privy while Arafinwë headed for the dining room to join the others already there.

****

Laurendil and Manwen did not make an appearance at breakfast and Arafinwë left strict instructions that they were not to be disturbed. “They must come to a decision about this on their own without any of us influencing them either way.”

“Do you think they will disobey Lord Irmo’s summons?” Finrod asked with some concern as he reached for another sticky bun.

“As to that, only time will tell,” Arafinwë replied, pouring some tea into his cup. “In the meantime, we still have our own agenda to deal with.”

“What is the schedule for today, Gilvagor?” Glorfindel asked, looking down the table to where the ellon was sitting.

“I’ve arranged for a meeting with the city leaders,” Gilvagor answered. “I should warn you that things are done a little differently here than in Tavrobel. People are more formal.”

“Any particular reason why?” Alassiel asked.

It was Haldir who answered. “This is the oldest settlement on the island, though Kortirion is larger. Most people, once they’ve arrived here, move on to Kortirion or Tavrobel or to the smaller communities dotting the island, but those who have made Avallónë their home tend to be a bit... um... snobbish about it.”

“In many ways, Avallónë is the wealthiest of the communities,” Gilvagor added, “and perhaps the most beautiful and its citizens are justifiably proud of that distinction.”

“In fact, many people living in Avallónë think that any seat of government should be located here rather than in Kortirion,” Mithlas said, “though I think the majority of the people on the island think it’s logical to have the seat of government in a central location. Kortirion is nearly equidistant from Avallónë and Tavrobel. Even the smaller communities that are not directly connected to the main road between the three cities are within at most a two-day walk from Kortirion.”

“So the city leaders will be pushing for the government to be established here rather than in Kortiron,” Olwë commented and the three Tol Eressëans nodded.

“That might make things difficult,” Ingwion said with a frown, “since we’ve been advocating having whatever form the government here will take be located in Kortirion. It just makes geographical sense.”

“And political sense as well,” Gilvagor pointed out. “The majority of the guildhalls are in Kortirion. The guildmasters who are elected to Kortirion’s city council are very powerful, for they are the council and they dictate to the guilds elsewhere on the island. Here, as in Tavrobel, the council is almost evenly divided between local guildmasters, merchants and sea captains.”

“If the guildmasters in Kortirion are so powerful,” Finrod enquired, “will they not resent the idea of a central government that might not include them?”

“There was a backlash to Sador’s kidnapping and the revelation that it was the guildmasters who were responsible for the high prices,” Gilvagor said. “With one or two exceptions, every member of Kortirion’s city council was forced to resign. Nearly half lost their masterships and are on probation for the next ten years. They will have to take journeymen wages and work under the supervision of the masters who have replaced them on the council.”

“That cannot sit well with them,” Arafinwë commented with a frown. “Is it possible that resentment from the deposed council members and their friends might cause trouble later on?”

“Possibly,” Gilvagor averred, “but many of those who now run the council are actually recent arrivals without any of the previous history which the older inhabitants have. They are less impressed by power and are more open-minded about the state of affairs between Tol Eressëa and Aman. I’ve spoken to several and they are all amenable to the idea of a central government under a single leader and perhaps a more representative council, as well as open trading with the mainland.”

“Then we will worry about them when we come to Kortirion,” Arafinwë said. “For now, let us concentrate on the good people of Avallónë. We will need to tread delicately considering what we’ve been told.”

“Or not,” Finrod said.

“Explain,” Arafinwë demanded.

“Perhaps a show of force will do what diplomacy cannot,” Finrod stated.

“You’ve lost me, hanno,” Glorfindel said with a smile. “Mind you, I like shows of force. They get much more immediate results than all this side-stepping diplomatic nonsense, but Atar is correct that the situation here in Avallónë is delicate and needs to be treated as such.”

Finrod chuckled. “Perhaps I misspoke. I am not advocating an invasion....”

“Good,” Arafinwë muttered, raising an eyebrow at his son, and there was a spate of light laughter from the rest of them.

“Haldir said that the people in this city tend to be snobbish and I am assuming he means people who helped found the city, not necessarily new arrivals who stay on.”

Haldir nodded. “There is a group of families, perhaps about a score or so, who refer to themselves as the First Families, for they were the first to come to Tol Eressëa and built the city.”

“As I said,” Gilvagor added, “they are justifiably proud of that distinction.”

“Which families are they?” Finrod asked. “Are there any whom some of us might know from before?”

“I doubt it,” Gilvagor said, frowning in thought. “My impression is that they are survivors of several kingdoms: Doriath, Nargothrond, Gondolin, even remnants of Fingolfin and Fingon’s kingdom, as well as those among the Fëanárioni.” He paused and gave Finrod a considering look. “Man theleg, gwador nîn?” he asked, switching to Sindarin.

“We have played it somewhat low-key,” Finrod answered, though in Quenya, “acting more like visitors than a delegation of power.”

The others nodded. “We’re not looking to take over the island,” Olwë said.

“True,” Finrod stated, “but perhaps we should.”

“All right, now I’m confused, and it doesn’t take much to confuse me, I know,” Glorfindel quipped.

Finrod laughed along with the others. “What I mean is, perhaps we should show ourselves as a delegation of power to these people. Insist on pomp and high ceremony in full Amanian style. I can tell you that in Nargothrond I did away with much of that and kept all ceremonies simple. The Sindar who lived among us were unused to the elaborate ceremonies that we had developed here in Aman before the Darkening and the exigencies of surviving in a hostile environment with Melkor on our doorsteps forced the Noldor to do away with much of the trappings of ceremony. Even Uncle Ñolofinwë did not insist on too much of it the few times I bothered to visit him once I established Nargothrond.”

“Well, it was different in Gondolin, let me tell you,” Glorfindel said.

“Everything was different in Gondolin,” Haldir retorted with a snort. “Turgon was very ceremonial-minded. It got a bit tiring after a while.”

Glorfindel grinned. “You’re not the one who had to dress up in ridiculous state robes half the time,” he said.

“No. I just had to stand around in uncomfortable armor all day trying not to look bored,” Haldir replied with a grin of his own.

“Well, Gondolin aside,” Finrod interjected firmly, “the most of us did away with a lot of ceremony. I doubt that these First Families have ever seen high ceremony as only we of Aman can create.”

“Wouldn’t some of them remember it from when they lived here before?” Amarië asked.

“Only some originally come from Aman,” Gilvagor said, “and not all of them originated from the nobility. They achieved their present social status in Beleriand.” He gave them a self-deprecating grin. “Just as I did.”

“I still don’t see how any of this helps us,” Arafinwë said. Olwë and Ingwion nodded.

“Did you see how awed the people of Tavrobel were when you three entered the town hall in all your finery?” Finrod asked them. “They had never seen anything like it and did not even know enough protocol to rise at your entrance. Do you think the people of Avallónë are any more sophisticated?”

“Perhaps not,” Arafinwë averred, “but we should not make broad assumptions based on little or no fact. The people of Tavrobel may be less pretentious and most, I gathered, are common folk who had little contact with their rulers in Beleriand. That might not be the case here.”

“That may be true,” Finrod said with a nod, accepting the correction with equanimity. “Too bad we don’t know anyone from these First Families to gauge what their reactions to us might be.” He turned to Gilvagor and Haldir, giving them enquiring looks.

“I have met with the leaders of the city,” Gilvagor said, “and most, but not all, are original settlers. Even those who came afterwards tend towards snobbishness because they abide here and not elsewhere. The people of Avallónë see themselves as the cultural hub of the island. Kortirion and Tavrobel are poor country cousins by comparison. Of course, that is only in their own minds. Kortirion is just as culturally rich and diverse as Avallónë and Tavrobel has its own charms. In my opinion, none has precedence over the others or is superior to the others. Each has its own unique flavor, as it were.” Haldir and Mithlas nodded in agreement.

“Still, the idea of... um... showing off, does have its merits,” Amarië said with a wink and the others laughed.

“What exactly is this meeting with the city council meant to accomplish?” Ingwion asked. “In Tavrobel we had the opportunity to meet with most of the residents by way of a town meeting. Avallónë is much larger. I doubt we could hold a similar meeting with everyone.”

“Impractical, to say the least,” Gilvagor averred. “Same with Kortirion. Though, mind you, I never thought of holding a town meeting in Tavrobel either. As for this particular meeting, I am hoping that you can at least convince the council members to agree that we need a centralized government and open trade with Aman. They probably have their own ideas as to what form the government should take and, of course, they want that government to reside here.”

“That is a minor concern,” Olwë said. “Agreeing that there needs to be a central government and willingness to begin trade agreements with us are the two most important issues that need to be addressed.”

“Then our agenda has not changed,” Ingwion said.

“Only the method of getting across our message,” Finrod corrected. “I still think we should show these people the true meaning of snobbery.” He gave them a mischievous grin.

“Does that mean we get to dress up?” Amarië asked coyly.

“Who’s getting dressed up?”

Everyone looked to see Sador and Beleg entering the dining room. It was Sador who had asked the question.

“We’re thinking of showing off all our finery at the meeting with the city council,” Finrod answered with a grin.

“All of us?” Beleg asked in dismay, taking a quick glance at the amused looks on the faces of the others.

“The more, the merrier,” Lindarion said with a laugh. “Cheer up, Cousin,” he added. “It’ll only be for a few hours.”

“Thingol never made me dress up,” Beleg protested. “Though Saeros was always complaining about the state of my clothes.”

“Well, my brother isn’t here,” Olwë pointed out. Then he stood. “Come then. Let us don our finest garb and see how impressed the residents of Avallónë are.”

“Don’t we get to eat first?” Sador asked as everyone else began to leave the table.

“Grab some rolls and some cheese,” Finrod said, tossing a couple of rolls at Sador who caught them. “You can eat while you dress.”

Sador turned a sour look at Beleg. “If you’d just come down from the stupid tree earlier....”

“That’s right, blame me,” Beleg retorted with a growl.

Sador started to retaliate with another barb but Glorfindel grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away. “You can dress in my room,” he said. “I think you and Beleg need some distance from each other for a while.”

“Glorfindel’s correct,” Olwë said, taking Beleg’s arm. “You come with me and Lindarion, Beleg, and we’ll see you properly dressed. Elennen, will you go and fetch my nephew’s best court garb from his room? I know I made him bring it.”

“Edrahil, go with him and get Sador’s clothes and bring them to our room,” Finrod said and the two guards nodded and did as they were bid while Olwë and Lindarion took Beleg down one hall while Glorfindel and Finrod took Sador down another.

****

Not all would accompany the kings to the meeting. Only Finrod, Lindarion, Ingwion, Glorfindel, Sador, and Beleg came, along with Alassiel and Amarië. The honor guard was composed of Elennen, Calandil, Edrahil, Eregil, Mithlas, and Haldir. As a matter of course, Gilvagor accompanied them and Pelendur acted once again as Arafinwë’s standard bearer. Eäralato acted as Olwë’s standard bearer while Urundil carried Ingwion’s standard. Eärnur remained behind to keep an eye on Lasgalad who was still in healing sleep though the Lóriennildo assured them that he would be bringing the ellon out of it later that evening. Iorlas would not be separated from his friend and elected to stay behind. Laurendil and Manwen, of course, remained in seclusion, never venturing out. The meeting with the city council was set for noon. The council members had decided to host a formal garden party for their distinguished guests to be held at the estate of one of the First Families.

“Lord Morcocáno and Lady Nelluin were one of the first to arrive in Tol Eressëa,” Gilvagor explained to them as they made their way towards the villa that overlooked the harbor from the south. They ignored the stares of the people on the streets as they wended their way through the city. “He is presently the head of the council.”

“Morcocáno.... he’s a Noldo, then,” Arafinwë stated.

Gilvagor nodded. “He served under Fingon and, though he was just a common soldier at the time, he took over the command of some of Fingon’s troops when the High King fell at the Nirnaeth and helped with the retreat.”

“Did you know him, Glorfindel?” Finrod asked.

Glorfindel shook his head. “No. Turgon gathered the remnant of Fingon’s army to him but not all followed us back to Gondolin. A few, I understand, made their way back into Hithlum to rescue their kinfolk. I know that some of the elves residing there escaped thralldom and hid in the mountains.”

“Yes, that is indeed what happened,” Gilvagor said. “In fact, his wife was one of those taken captive and sent to the mines in the north, but Morcocáno rescued her and several others.”

“Did he have a Sindarin name?” Ingwion asked.

“Didn’t we all?” Gilvagor replied with a laugh. “Though in truth, not all the Noldor bothered to render their names into Sindarin or adopt Sindarin names for themselves. I think Lord Morcocáno is one such, though perhaps he has merely taken back his original name as some have done.”

“How would his name be rendered in Sindarin?” Alassiel asked out of curiosity.

“Most likely ‘Brôgon’,” Finrod answered and the other Sindarin speakers nodded. “I wonder if Brethorn knew him? I’ll have to remember to ask him next time I see him.”

Then they were at the gates of the villa with Gilvagor acting as their herald, announcing them to the guards who bowed them through, trying not to gape at the bejeweled company in all their court finery. Once through the gates they arranged themselves with the two kings in the front with Ingwion between them. Finrod walked behind his atar with Amarië while Lindarion walked behind Olwë escorting Alassiel. Glorfindel, Sador and Beleg were next, followed by the  three standard bearers. The six honor guards ranged themselves on either side of the delegation. Gilvagor, still acting as their herald, led them all towards a green sward where a large pavilion had been set up. They could see several people standing before the pavilion waiting to greet them.

Gilvagor stopped several feet from the pavilion, and gave a low bow. “My lords and ladies,” he said loudly, addressing them in Quenya, “their Majesties, Olwë Lindaran and Arafinwë Noldóran. Representing the High King, Prince Ingwion of the Vanyar. Prince Lindarion of Alqualondë and Lady Alassiel of Vanyamar, Prince Findaráto and Lady Amarië of Tirion. Lord Glorfindel of Ondolindë, and Lords Beleg and Sador of Lestanórë.”

For a moment there was complete silence while the two groups eyed one another. Those from Aman stood in regal ease waiting for the Tol Eressëans to acknowledge them. In contrast to the Amanians, the studied indifference and haughty demeanor of the Tol Eressëans began to slip and they stared at one another with uncertainty.

Glorfindel, standing behind Finrod and Arafinwë, could see the bemused expressions on their faces. The Tol Eressëans had dressed appropriately for a formal luncheon, yet none of them could come close to the glittering spectacle of the Amanians. He noticed with amusement one or two of the ellith glancing surreptitiously at their own attire then at what Alassiel and Amarië were wearing, sighing in dismay. He leaned over to whisper into Finrod’s ear. “We must look like a bunch of gaudy overdressed peacocks to them.” He could see Finrod trying hard to keep his expression impassive, biting his lips to keep from laughing out loud.

Then, one of the Tol Eressëan ellyn stepped forward and gave them a bow. “Be welcome to Avallónë, my lords and ladies,” he said. “I am Lord Morcocáno and this is my beloved wife, Lady Nelluin.”

Morcocáno, Glorfindel could see, was a typical Noldo with dark chestnut brown hair and grey eyes that missed nothing. He was taller than average though not quite as tall as Glorfindel. In spite of the fact that he did not wear warrior braids, something in his eyes told Glorfindel that this one had seen plenty of action in the wars of Beleriand. Lady Nelluin, by comparison, was diminutive, her silvery hair nearly white under the sun, her eyes a deep blue. She was lithe and graceful, though Glorfindel sensed something sad about her, an old grief, and there was a haunted look in her eyes that her smile did not quite hide.

Olwë, as the elder monarch and acting as their spokesman, gave them a gracious nod. “We thank you for your warm welcome, Lord Morcocáno, Lady Nelluin,” he said. “We of Aman are delighted to be here and hope that our visit to your fair city will prove fruitful and beneficial to all.”

“That is our wish as well, lord,” Morcocáno said. “Let me make ye known to the rest of the council and the other guests.”

Olwë gave him another nod and one by one the other members of the city council with their wives or husbands stepped forward to be introduced. There were also a few others who were prominent citizens of the city. All the First Families were represented. Glorfindel did not even pretend to try to remember any of their names. When the introductions were over, Olwë addressed them once again. “Pray, let us not stand on too much ceremony lest our luncheon congeals into an unholy mess.” Before the Tol Eressëans could respond to that, Olwë turned to the three standard bearers, giving them a nod. They immediately broke rank and set the standards into the turf along one side of the pavilion while the other Amanians began to mingle. The six acting as guards, as well as Urundil and Eäralato, attached themselves to either the two kings or the princes. Mithlas took it upon himself to stay close to Sador and Beleg while Glorfindel stayed near Finrod.

For about fifteen minutes the Amanians gracefully engaged the Tol Eressëans in conversation, speaking in generalities. The Tol Eressëans were suddenly shy and not as confident in their demeanor as when they were waiting for their company to arrive. Not a few were in awe of the fact that they were in the presence of such heroes as Finrod Felagund, Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower and Beleg of Doriath. The Reborn, for their part, were at ease and appeared unaffected by the attention they were getting. Even Beleg was able to call up memories of those rare times when he attended the court of Elu Thingol and acted accordingly.

Then luncheon was called and they all entered the pavilion, with one of the head servants directing people where to sit. There were three long tables forming a U-shape with seating on the inside as well as the outside so people could converse with greater ease. The Amanians were directed towards the inside, but ignored protocol and sat where they pleased, much to the bemusement of the Tol Eressëans who appeared to have a strict seating precedence. Thus, it was somewhat unnerving for a young ellon who came from one of the least influential of the First Families in Avallónë to find himself seated across from Arafinwë who smiled on him graciously and asked about his family. Lord Morcocáno, seated several places away appeared rather affronted by the fact that he was seated across from Sador, who pretended not to notice the ellon’s glare.

Servants came and ladled out cold cherry soup and placed baskets of bread and cheese on the tables for the first remove. Glorfindel, seated next to Finrod, eyed the two sitting across from them with amusement. Lord Thorongorn and his lady wife, Eirien, were both Sindar, originally from Eglarest. Both appeared somewhat nonplused to be seated across from two of the legends of Beleriand.

“I never saw Eglarest,” Finrod said suddenly, speaking Sindarin, “and I was only in Brithombar once to meet with Lord Círdan. I understand Avallónë was modeled somewhat on those two cities.” He took some bread from a basket and spread some honey butter on it.

Thorongorn nodded. “Yes, it was,” he replied, “which is why we decided to stay here rather than go elsewhere on the island.”

“It felt more like our original home,” Eirien added shyly.

Glorfindel and Finrod both nodded in understanding. Glorfindel was about to say something when there was a disturbance at the pavilion entrance. He turned and saw, to his surprise, the last people he expected to see. There, in various shades of green and grey, were a half dozen Nandor, led by Laeglîr and Dairuin. All but Laeglîr were armed with bows and spears while the elleth carried the staff of her office as Speaker. The elleth gave them a sardonic smile. “Ah, I see we’re just in time for lunch,” she said and the other Nandor all smiled while everyone else just sat there in stunned silence.

****

Words are Quenya unless otherwise noted.

Hanno: Brother (colloquial form).

Man theleg, gwador nîn?: (Sindarin) ‘What do you intend, my (sworn) brother?”.

Ondolindë: Gondolin.

Lestanórë: Doriath.