123: The First Session: Morning

There was little in the way of activity the next day, though various delegates were seen wandering along the Landamallë, admiring the mansions and gardens of the Valar, or exploring Eldamas. The Amanians kept to the townhouse, though Aldundil and his parents took the elflings out to see the sights, partly to keep the youngsters occupied and partly to avoid Selmacas, who was part of the Noldorin entourage.

"I do not know why you had to include him, Atto," Finrod complained to Arafinwë when the two happened to be alone, wandering through the gardens after breaking their fast. "You knew I would be bringing Herendil and Aldundil with me."

"I know, yonya," Arafinwë replied, "but I could hardly refuse. He is high in our councils. Whatever his faults, and they are many, he is still one of my canniest advisors. You know this."

"Yes, I do," Finrod answered with a grimace. "Doesn’t mean I have to like it, or him."

"Nor would I expect you to," Arafinwë said with a smile.

"Let’s hope he doesn’t cause any trouble," Finrod retorted. "There’s going to be trouble enough with the Tol Eressëans without him going at Herendil and Aldundil."

"I told him when we left Tirion that if he could not at least pretend to be civil, I would send him into exile and not to my summer residence as I did Pelendur." He gave his son a significant look and Finrod couldn’t help grinning at the implications.

Later, when the royal families were together to discuss matters, Finrod filled everyone in on what had happened recently in Lórien. The attack on Vorondil and Finrod’s role in that held them spellbound and there was much discussion about his ability to ‘soul-hunt’, as Melian had called it, though no conclusions were forthcoming. The news that Aldundil’s brother had been re-embodied and what happened there surprised them as well.

"Vondo wanted to come with us, of course," Finrod said with a chuckle, "but Lord Irmo wouldn’t have it no matter how much he sulked. Laurendil and Manwen are looking after him."

"I was surprised not to see them here," Arafinwë said.

"It is very rare that apprentices are allowed to leave Lórien during their first three years there," Finrod explained. "The events of the last year however have been extraordinary and Lord Irmo appreciates that, but now he feels it is time that they both take their apprenticeships more seriously." There were nods all around from the listeners. "Plus the fact that Manwen is with child and much of her fëa is being used to support the babe within her necessitates her not doing much traveling. Laurendil rarely leaves her side these days."

"And that is as it should be," Ingwë said with a smile. "So does Lord Irmo count this past year as part of those first three years you mentioned or only since the two returned to Lórien from the Progress?"

"I have no idea," Finrod said. "I don’t think anyone has thought to ask."

Everyone chuckled.

"What about Vorondil?" Arafinwë asked. "Is he not also an apprentice and should he not also remain in Lórien?"

"His position is slightly different," Finrod answered. "While he is indeed an apprentice, he is also my thrall, little though I or anyone else likes it. His apprenticeship will therefore last for as long as he remains my thrall and then, if he still wishes to continue being a Lóriennildo, he’ll be promoted to journeyman. He’s actually too young to be an apprentice, you understand. Lord Irmo prefers not to accept anyone as a potential Lóriennildo until they are much older. I could have left him in Lórien. I know he and his uncle are becoming quite close, but it was decided that he might do better being with me and with his atar. The trauma of his attack, which he still does not remember, is deep-seated. He suffers from nightmares and it’s best that he has his atar with him at this time."

"And you," Olwë said, giving his grandson a shrewd look. "You are a surrogate parent for him as well and I think he trusts you, more than he trusts others."

"The other elflings are a great help as well," Finrod said, nodding in acknowledgment of Olwë’s words.

Everyone smiled. "They are quite delightful," Ingwë said. "The last time I saw them they were quaking in their shoes at the sight of you. Now, they practically climb all over you, eager to tell you of their day."

Finrod laughed. "They’re a handful, that’s for sure. I don’t think their parents will recognize them when it’s time to send them back home."

"I imagine that will be a sorrowful day for you all," Eärwen said with a sympathetic smile for her son.

"And that day is not too far away, either," Finrod replied with a sigh. "I’ll miss them, of course, but they really do need to be with their families. It would be too cruel and selfish not to return them to their parents as promised."

"I’m sure it will work out for the best," Arafinwë said with a gentle smile. "But let us speak of this Council. Is there any point in the Amanian delegations voicing their opinions as to the type of government there should be on Tol Eressëa?"

"I don’t see why we should," Lindarion replied. "It is, after all, not our government. It’s my understanding that we are there more to protect our own interests."

"That’s true, Uncle," Finrod said to him, "but at the same time, we’re responsible for this Council even happening so it seems to me we should also let our own views be heard. I agree that this early in the sessions it makes no sense for any of us to speak. Rather, we should be listening as objectively as possible, we and the Valar. I suspect, given the personalities involved, there will be heated discussions and recriminations and downright insults among certain parties. It will be our task then to counsel calm and right reason. That’s when it will be appropriate for us to step in and offer our own views."

"I think you are correct," Ingwion said. "I would prefer listening to what the Tol Eressëans have to say and speak only when my opinion is asked for."

"Then when the Council meets again, I will announce that you three will not speak at that time. I should also speak with Lord Manwë about it and let him know your decision. I wonder if any of them are back from... wherever it is they went."

"I suppose the Maiar would know," Olwë answered with a shrug. "If the Valar are not here we can at least leave a message."

"Do you think they will return in time for tomorrow’s session?" Beleg asked.

"We’ll find out soon enough," Olwë answered with a short laugh and the others nodded. "In the meantime, let’s see if we can hunt down a Maia and find out if Lord Manwë is receiving visitors."

"Why don’t we just do what Glorfindel did and shout out the window?" Sador asked with a sly grin and everyone laughed when Finrod and Beleg suddenly raced each other to one of the windows and started shouting. It surprised no one when a Maia wearing the emblem of Lady Nessa appeared, looking highly amused.

****

The Reborn delegation was again the first to arrive at the council chamber, which had been removed to Lord Aulë and Lady Yavanna’s mansion, much to the amazement of the Tol Eressëans. Brethorn gave Ingwë a shy smile as he and his fellow Reborn came to the door where the three kings waited to greet everyone.

"You are not early," Ingwë assured him with a smile. "I admire your enthusiasm."

"Well, it’s the only way to ensure I get the best seat," Brethorn said with a laugh.

"Yet the seating changes with every session," Arafinwë pointed out. "How then can any seat be considered the best?"

"Because it’s the one that random chance permits me to choose," Brethorn replied even as he reached inside the copper bowl and pulled out the emerald. Almost at once the other Reborn were racing to find where it was located, for the chairs themselves had been placed randomly and not as they had been in the previous session.

"Oh look, Brethorn!" one of them called out. "You’re seated directly across from the High King. You’re so lucky!"

Ingwë raised an eyebrow at that announcement but Brethorn merely gave him a knowing smile. "Yes, indeed I am," he said, giving the three kings a bow before joining the others.

Ingwë shook his head in amazement. "Maybe some of that enthusiasm will rub off on the rest of the delegates," he said and the other two kings smiled.

There were fewer complaints about the seating arrangements, but many sighs as certain delegates learned where they were sitting. Again, the Amanians came as a group and this time Lindarion let Beleg choose for him, much to the ellon’s delight. Only when everyone else was seated did the Valar appear. Manwë peered into the council chamber and sighed. "I knew my luck wouldn’t hold out," he muttered as he saw that he would be seated between Galadhwen and Morcocáno.

"Penance for your sins," Námo said with a smirk.

Manwë gave him a scathing look while the others laughed.

"Shall we?" Ingwë asked, gesturing towards the council table and with a nod from Manwë they all went inside, the doors closing silently of themselves. "So, any trouble with the stars?" Ingwë asked nonchalantly as they were stepping down towards the dais and was rewarded with several raised eyebrows among the Valar.

"No. No trouble," Manwë answered with a knowing smile. "Thank you for asking."

Once everyone was seated, Ingwë welcomed all the delegates. "Today we will hear from each of you as to your thoughts about what needs to be addressed. Since this problem is the concern of the Tol Eressëans, the Amanian delegates, as well as Lord Manwë, have decided to abstain from speaking at this time. To make it fair, I ask that all of you who will speak place your gemstone in the bowl that is being passed around. I will then draw from it and by this means we will have the order of speakers. I ask that you limit yourselves to no more than fifteen minutes before letting the next person speak. We will hear from nine delegates this morning and then break for lunch and the other nine will speak in the afternoon. Arafinwë has agreed to keep track of the time and Olwë will record the pertinent ideas that are presented, though we have scribes who will record every word faithfully for our records in the event you wish to review what has been said later. Any questions? No? Then let us begin."

He reached into the copper bowl which he had set at the far edge of the table before him so he could not see inside and withdrew the first gemstone: citrine.

"Oh! That’s me!" Berethiel of the Embroiderers’ Guild said with an embarrassed glance at the rest of the delegates.

"Then please share with us your thoughts, Mistress," Ingwë said with a smile.

Berethiel smiled shyly, keeping her eyes on the table before her as she spoke. "I was born in Beleriand, in Nargothrond, actually, and survived its destruction." She stopped and raised her eyes to look across where Finrod sat between Gilvagor and Lindarion. His own expression was unreadable. "I saw you once, your Majesty," she continued. "I was in the market square on Third Rise with my... with my husband and you were making your way through to somewhere, stopping once or twice to look over some wares. You looked so... magnificent!" She stopped, blushing furiously as she realized what she was saying while those around her chuckled at her discomfort. Finrod’s own expression never changed though his eyes brightened with hidden amusement. The elleth continued, after taking a moment to collect herself. "Yes, well... what I meant was that you were such a great king and while I’ve heard the reasons why you yourself won’t take the crown, I wish that someone like you would."

"Yet, there is no one like me to do so," Finrod said softly. "They have yet to leave Mandos."

"I know," Berethiel said with a nod. "I remember when I came to Tol Eressëa how surprised I was that there was no king ruling over us. It never occurred to me that there wouldn’t be. There’s always been a king or at least a regent and the seeming anarchy of every city or farming hamlet having its own government with no central power there to keep abuses down appalled me. I had a small role in saving Lord Sador when he was kidnapped and that incident alone showed how far we’ve traveled from right rule."

Sador, sitting in the front row of seats directly behind Finrod paled and absently fingered his single warrior’s braid while Aldundil, sitting beside him busily sketching, stopped what he was doing and placed a comforting hand on the ellon’s arm, giving it a squeeze. Others made whispered comments and gave Sador sympathetic glances which he didn’t see, for his eyes were on the back of Finrod’s chair.

"So, you would like to see a king in place," Ingwë said to Berethiel, who nodded. "Is this the consensus of the rest of your guild?"

Berethiel glanced back at the ellyn and ellith who had accompanied her before addressing the High King. "No, my lord. There is some disagreement about that, but all of us want to see greater trade with the mainland. We of the Embroiderers’ Guild and those that are associated with us would like to see a greater exchange of ideas and talents among us. I saw threads and colors and designs among the Amanians during the reception in Tirion and at the Ball that I’d never seen before. Indeed, I’d never imagined them. It made me realize just what poor cousins we of Tol Eressëa truly are in comparison."

"Well, with that, I beg to differ," Finrod said with a smile. "The Sindar have beautiful embroideries. I was quite taken with the white-on-white embroideries that were the fashion in Doriath, something that I had never seen here in Aman. In fact, I don’t think it would have occurred to any Amanian to do something like that. We lived in the Light of the Trees, surrounded by color, but the Sindar had only the stars to illuminate them and so their embroideries and fabrics were more subtle and textured than we of Aman were used to." He gave a slight chuckle. "I remember what a row I had with my tailor who adamantly refused to create a tunic in the Doriathrin style or to have it embroidered with their designs, claiming that it was unworthy of my position as the Noldorin king of Nargothrond." He stressed the word ‘Noldorin’, his voice pitching slightly so everyone realized he was imitating the hapless tailor, then he shook his head and gave a snort. "I finally had to go to Doriath and have Elu Thingol’s chief tailor create my tunics for me. Elencar was so furious when he found out what I’d done, he resigned his post, left Nargothrond altogether and ended up going to my cousin Findecáno in Dor-Lómin, who was more inclined to stick to Noldorin sensibilities in fashion."

"And all of this, as interesting as it is, is beside the point," Ingwë said, taking the sting out of his reprimand by smiling at his great nephew.

"I disagree," Finrod said in all seriousness. "Berethiel has made a valid point. Some of the problems facing the Tol Eressëans might have been avoided or at least mitigated had there been more open trade between us. Certainly the level of resentment that we felt among the islanders when we were there in the summer would not have been so palpable. If there had been a king ruling them from the beginning, someone who could have dealt directly with us, we might not have needed this Council."

"Your point is well taken, Findaráto, but I think we should move on and hear what others have to say," Manwë interjected mildly. He smiled benevolently at Berethiel. "You stated your case quite well, my dear, and do not think that your embroidery comes a poor second to those of the Amaneldi. I have no doubt that Lady Vairë is just itching to speak with you and your fellow crafters once this session concludes."

He cast an amused look at Vairë who was nodding vigorously while the other Valar smiled knowingly. Many of the delegates stirred, speaking in soft whispers. Berethiel murmured something unintelligible and kept her eyes before her as Ingwë spoke. "Did you wish to add anything, Mistress Berethiel?"

The elleth looked up and nodded slightly. "Only that I would like to see, if not a king, then some kind of strong leader, whatever he might call himself, someone we can look to for guidance."

"You mentioned a husband," Arafinwë said. "Is he....?"

She shook her head. "It’s one reason why I sailed," she whispered, her eyes drifting towards where Lord Námo sat in darkling splendor. "I wanted to be here when...." She shuddered and looked away, obviously fighting back tears, and among the Tol Eressëans there were many sympathetic expressions. Dúlinn, sitting next to her, put an arm around her shoulders and spoke softly to her as she struggled for control. There was an uncomfortable silence that hung heavily in the air but no one felt any desire to break it.

"He will be released in due time, Berethiel," Námo said softly and with such compassion that many of the Tol Eressëans reeled as if from a blow and they turned pale, unable to accept that the dread Lord of Mandos could exhibit such sympathy towards any. Berethiel looked up and nodded, uttering a faintly heard ‘thank you’.

Ingwë decided it was time to take back control of the Council. "I think we should move forward, for there are others from whom we wish to hear," he said and there were murmurs of consent all around. "Thank you, Mistress Berethiel, for your comments. And now we will hear from...." He pulled out the ruby and everyone glanced about to see who would be the next speaker. It turned out to be Gilvagor.

The warrior grimaced. "I was hoping to be last," he said in a small voice and several people chuckled, the tension lifting from the atmosphere.

"Stop whining, Gilvagor," Sador said with a wicked grin. "You’re beginning to sound like Glorfindel."

Now there was outright laughter among the Amanians. Gilvagor shot the younger ellon a baleful glance that was marred by the twinkling humor in his eyes. Then he turned his attention back to the Council and when everyone was calmer he began speaking.

"I sailed with Lord Laurendil and I remember how disturbed he was by the lack of a central government. I remember him telling me that while he understood that none of the kings of Beleriand were yet Reborn, still, he could not believe that the people had not chosen someone to lead them. It took us a while to understand that no one could agree on who should have that role. That’s why we formed the embassy to Tirion. We had heard that Findaráto was Reborn and had thought that perhaps he would take the crown. Now, of course, we know that he will not, but we still have the problem of leadership before us."

"Laurendil seems like a strong leader to me from what I know of him," Lindarion interjected. "I’m surprised he didn’t attempt to take on such a role for himself."

"You don’t know Laurendil well enough then," Finrod answered before Gilvagor could respond. "He knows his own limitations and strengths. He can command armies, indeed, he has done so, but he has no desire to rule others. Besides, he is training to be a healer now, so he’s out of the running, as it were."

Gilvagor nodded. "What really surprised us was that in all these years no one ever took the initiative. Laurendil and I... well, we just couldn’t sit around and do nothing when it was so obvious to us that something had to be done. Of course, we were unaware of just how things really stood between Tol Eressëa and Aman, but at least we were trying to do something!"

"And for that, I thank you," Arafinwë said with a courteous nod. "If it hadn’t been for you and Laurendil coming to me with your concerns we would never have known what was happening on the island or the part that some of our own people had played in causing the unrest."

"Yes, well, at any rate, the Warrior Society as a whole agrees that we need a strong leader who will direct us and keep us all on the straight and narrow," Gilvagor continued. "I know that among the cities there is a reluctance to give up what powers they have accrued for themselves, but we warriors think that the island will be better served if we had someone like Gil-galad ruling us."

"He is your great-grandson, is he not?" Ingwë asked Arafinwë.

The Noldóran nodded. "Quite young, as we measure such things, but very able and well-beloved by all. Ciryatano taught him well and he has had the benefit of also being tutored by my daughter and her husband. He is an excellent warrior and a canny leader."

"And we need someone like that here," Gilvagor said, "or at least so we warriors believe."

"Do you think that whoever takes the crown, if that is the case, must also be a warrior?" Dúlinn asked.

"It would make sense," Gilvagor acknowledged. "All our kings have also been puissant warriors."

"In Beleriand, they had to be," Barancheneb pointed out. "What reason would we need a warrior-king here in Valinor?"

"Have you forgotten the Dagor Dagorath, Barancheneb?" Gilvagor retorted. "You, who are an historian?"

The head of the Guild of Bards blushed slightly from the reprimand and did not offer any further comment.

"Then you believe that one of the warriors should become your leader," Ingwë stated. "You, perhaps?"

Gilvagor gave him a surprised look. "Me? No. Of course not. I know my limitations all too well and while I can deal with the administrative aspects of the Warriors’ Society, I have no desire to be dragged down by the daily grind of running a kingdom, thank you very much. Gil-galad was usually snarling at everyone by the time the evening meal was being served. Very bad for the digestion," he added blandly and there were amused looks among the delegates and the three kings exchanged grins.

"Do you have anyone specific in mind, then?" Olwë asked.

Gilvagor shook his head. "No, lord, for it is too early to put forth candidates and I would withhold my judgment until all have been heard."

"Thank you, Lord Gilvagor," Ingwë said. "Let us move on." He reached into the bowl and withdrew the fire opal. This time it was Boromir, heading the delegation of Woodworkers, who would speak....

****

By the time lunch was ready to be served, besides Boromir, they had heard from Gelloneth of the Smiths’ Guild, Elrían of the Healers’ Guild, Councillor Dúlinn, Barancheneb, Minyon, who represented the Traders and Merchants, and finally, Laeglîr, Speaker for the Nandor. Most echoed the sentiments of Berethiel and Gilvagor, none could state categorically what kind of leader they wanted. Laeglîr, naturally, told them that the Nandor were not as interested in that aspect as the other Tol Eressëans were, but rather, they recognized that they needed to be more open to the other islanders.

"We will abide by whatever decision is made," she ended her speech, "as long as it does not unduly infringe upon our own way of life. We have our own leaders, our Speakers, and we are beginning to come together in council to discuss what needs to be discussed, just as we are doing here. Whoever is chosen to lead the rest of the island must recognize our autonomy and respect our ways."

"That will have to be a consideration, of course," Ingwë said, "but certainly not something that needs to be decided immediately. I see that the noon hour approaches. Let us adjourn for now and reconvene two hours hence and we will hear from the rest."

"Do you think it necessary?" Boromir asked. "We’ve spent the morning hearing the same thing said nine different ways. I do not fancy having to hear it nine more times." His expression was more sardonic than disgusted and there were sympathetic nods all around, though some of those who had yet to speak looked less than pleased.

"That may be true, Master Boromir," Ingwë said smoothly, "but in fairness to those who have yet to voice their thoughts, we should, of our courtesy, give them the same respectful attention as we have given to you and the others who have already spoken."

"Besides," Manwë said with an indulgent smile, "we Valar are most interested in hearing what all you Children have to say. You may think you are all saying the same thing in slightly different ways, but I assure you, you are not. You all have a piece of the puzzle, as it were, but not the whole. Remember what I said the other night: Do not dismiss the light of others. It may be that the light you disdain is the one most needed at this critical moment."

There were thoughtful expressions on the faces of many as Ingwë thanked the Elder King for his words and then dismissed the Council. As the delegates began making their way from the chamber, directed by some of Lord Aulë and Lady Yavanna’s Maiar towards where refreshments were being served, Lord Manwë stopped to chat with the three kings.

"A most interesting morning," the Lord of the Breath of Arda said with a smile, "most interesting indeed."

"If you say so, my lord," Ingwë said, returning Manwë’s smile with one of his own. "Frankly, I was getting bored by the sixth speech."

"Then you held out better than I," Arafinwë said with a laugh. "I gave up listening after Boromir finished speaking."

Manwë shook his head. "You Children have such short attention spans," he said, sounding very much like an atar remonstrating with elflings.

"Oh?" Ulmo enquired with a lift of an eyebrow. "How long did you last before your mind began wandering?"

Manwë gave the Lord of Waters a sniff. "Longer than you," he answered. "I heard you snoring by the time the healer was speaking."

"I was not snoring!" Ulmo protested. "I never snore!"

"That’s not what Salmar tells me," Manwë retorted with a wicked grin.

"Huh!" was Ulmo’s only reply as he strode past Manwë, shedding his fana in a flurry of multi-colored lights before fading from view.

"Now look what you’ve done, Manwë," Námo said with a malicious grin. "You’ve gone and upset Ulmo. I bet he doesn’t show up for the afternoon’s session."

"And what is the wager then?" Manwë asked with a knowing smile.

"Ah... well, why don’t we discuss that while the Children are enjoying their lunch," Námo countered and before any of the elves could respond, all the Valar shed their fanar and disappeared in flashes of light that were like miniature novas, causing the elves to shield their eyes.

When their vision cleared, Arafinwë gave Ingwë a sardonic look. "So, who thinks Lord Ulmo will return this afternoon?"

Ingwë laughed, as did Olwë and the other elves, mostly the Amanians, who had lingered to listen to the conversation. As they filed out of the room there were many bets being laid on whether the Lord of Waters would make an appearance or not.