2: Arrival in Tirion

The first thing Valandur did after his meeting with Ingwë was to make arrangements with the head of the Academy to have his classes covered by other newly minted loremasters.

“I will have lesson plans laid out for them,” he told the headmaster, “but only for the next few classes. After that they can simply follow the syllabus and perhaps resurrect their own notes from when they took the same classes.”

The headmaster chuckled and assured him that he would see to everything.

“I do not know when I will be back,” Valandur said apologetically but the headmaster assured him that he would still have a position with the Academy.

“Unless, of course, His Majesty offers you a position in his household,” he added, “but that is for the future to decide. Go well, my son, and remember all that we taught you.”

He then spoke with his parents who received the news with some surprise. “And Ingwë specifically asked for you,” his ammë said, “not for just any loremaster?”

“He read my thesis,” Valandur replied shyly. His parents looked at one another before his atar spoke.

“Then you are obviously the ellon for the job,” Voronwë said.

Valandur then spent some time going over his woefully inadequate wardrobe. He could take his two best tunics, but even the best one, the one he’d worn to Ingwë’s meeting, was barely acceptable court garb. Still, he would wear his loremaster’s robe over all and that would hide a multitude of inadequacies. He would also pack a couple of work-a-day tunics as well.

Thus the day of departure arrived and his parents and sisters gave him good wishes for a successful journey. He bade them farewell and headed for the palace, arriving in good time. There was a great deal of bustle as grooms and guards scurried about. Ingwë had told him that a horse would be provided for him, so he need not worry about that. He identified himself to one of the guards who led him inside the palace to a chamber that proved to be a small audience room where the High King was wont to entertain friends or members of his council. The guard turned him over to a page who was standing by, taking Valandur’s haversacks with him, promising to see that they were safely stowed. Valandur thanked him and allowed the page to lead him to where Ingwë was standing with Ingoldo, the High King apparently giving his brother last-minute instructions.

Both royal brothers looked up at Valandur’s approach. Ingwë smiled but Ingoldo simply gave him a supercilious look. Beside him stood an elleth, dressed in riding garb, whom Valandur suspected was the Lady Tinwetariel. She was more golden-haired than Ingoldo and even by Elven standards would be considered a beauty, at least, she would have, Valandur thought, if her beauty was not marred by a cold, haughty look.

“Ah, Loremaster Valandur,” Ingwë said in greeting as Valandur bowed to him. “You are right on time. Good. You have met my brother, let me make you known to his wife, the Lady Tinwetariel.”

“My lady,” Valandur said, giving her a proper bow.

The lady stared down her aristocratic nose and sniffed. Ingwë’s smile slipped a bit, but then he apparently decided to ignore Tinwetariel’s rudeness and turned to another ellon standing next to him. “And this is Lord Intarion, my brother’s son.”

Valandur greeted the young lord who smiled at him. Intarion was a brighter version of his atar, his hair like spun gold, his eyes a blue-green full of curiosity and humor. “I am glad to see that I will not be the only youngster on the journey,” Intarion said fervently.

Valandur raised an eyebrow. “I can hardly be considered a youngster, my lord. I was an elfling during the Great Migration.”

Intarion looked abashed at his gaffe, muttering an apology. Valandur took pity on him and gave him a conspiratorial grin. “But I am glad to see I am not considered old and therefore boring.”

Intarion gave him a shy smile, recognizing the words for what they were. Ingwë chuckled, clapping him on a shoulder. “I’m sure you and Valandur will get along just fine, Nephew. Now, it is time for all of you to be off.”

With that, they trooped out of the room and out into the plaza where the horses were readied. Ingwë had one of the guards show Valandur to his horse. Besides Ingoldo, his wife and son, there were four others who were members of the delegation, two of them ellith. The rest of the party was made up of a suitable contingent of guards who would also be responsible for setting up their camps and cooking their meals along the way.

Ingwë joined then with his queen, the Lady Elindis, and his twin sons, Ingwion and Ingalaurë, who were somewhat older than Intarion, and their young sister, Indis, who appeared to be barely out of elflinghood, and gave them a blessing for a safe journey and a fruitful mission, invoking the Valar in his prayer.

“Go well with the Valar’s blessings and with mine,” he said, raising a hand and Ingoldo gave him a nod of acknowledgment before signaling for the delegation to move out. Several of the guards headed along one side of the plaza and Valandur followed with the others as they took a side gate out and made their way down to the south gate that led out of the city. Just before he passed the gate into the street, Valandur looked back and saw Ingwë still standing there, an arm around his queen with his three children surrounding them. Then, he passed through the gate and lost sight of them.

“And now we are on our way.”

Valandur turned to see an elleth riding beside him and nodded. “I am Laurelindalë,” the elleth introduced herself. “The other elleth in our company is Nolondilmë. The two ellyn are Sorondur and Aldamir.”

“Thank you,” Valandur said politely. “I am afraid in the bustle of departure I was not properly introduced to everyone except Lord Ingoldo and his family. I am Valandur.”

Laurelindalë nodded in greeting and then they continued riding in silence until they had passed the south gate and were on the road. “So what role do you play in this delegation, my lady?” Valandur finally asked.

“Well, Sorondur and I are members of the High King’s diplomatic corps, such as it is. We have been specializing in trade. We’ll be the ones doing the actual work of hammering out the details of the trade agreements with our Noldorin counterparts while Lord Ingoldo and Lady Tinwetariel are entertained by the Noldóran.”

“And the other two? What are their duties?” Valandur asked.

“Well, Nolondilmë is well versed in the laws and customs of the Eldar and her role is to assure that all is legally done. Aldamir is acting as Lord Ingoldo’s personal secretary. Now, you know about us, but what about you? What role do you have in all this?”

“His Majesty wishes for me to observe how the trade agreements and diplomacy are done with the idea that I will eventually join you in the diplomatic corps,” Valandur answered. As Ingwë had insisted, he did not tell her the real reason for his being there. “I am a lambengolmo and so it makes sense that someone conversant with how language works would be an asset in any diplomatic venture.”

“Yes, I can see that. Well, I hope that you learn as much as you can while you are with us. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask me or Nolondilmë or Sorondur.”

“What about Aldamir?”

“Oh, he thinks he’s too good for the rest of us because Lord Ingoldo chose him to be his secretary,” the elleth replied with a disdainful sniff.

Valandur only nodded.

“When we stop for camp I will introduce you to the others,” Laurelindalë said.

“I would like that very much,” Valandur replied and then the two spent much of that first day’s journey speaking on a number of different subjects. At one point, Valandur asked the elleth if she had ever been to Tirion, but she denied it.

“I was born in Vanyamar,” she replied, “and have not traveled any further than Valmar and then only twice. And you?”

“I helped build the city,” Valandur said.

Laurendilmë gave him a surprised look. “Then you are older than I had suspected. I thought you were close to my age since you say you only just achieved your loremastership.”

Valandur shook his head. “I was an elfling when we made the Great Journey. I had little in the way of schooling except how to survive in the wilderness. Then, when we came here I was too busy helping to build, first Tirion, and then Vanyamar. My parents are not wealthy. Atar is a poet and a bard and Ammë weaves. I helped her to sell her tapestries and other weavings and apprenticed myself to a woodworker, saving the coin so that eventually I had enough to apply to the Academy.” He flashed her a wry smile.

“But the Academy is free,” Laurelindalë protested.

“Now, yes, but at first those who ran the Academy charged prospective students an entrance fee, to help defray expenses of upkeep. When the Academy was first founded, it was quite small. I think there were only four or five qualified loremasters who taught. Over time, the Academy has grown and when the High King became its patron, then it was not money that allowed one to enter its hallowed halls but talent. I assume you had to take the entrance exams?”

The elleth nodded, giving him a grimace. “I was so sure I’d failed, they were that hard. I was never so surprised than when I was granted admission.”

Valandur chuckled and she gave him a puzzled look. “What is so funny? Did you not find them hard?”

“I never took them,” he replied.

“But surely....”

He shook his head. “As I said, in the beginning, one needed a certain amount of coin to gain admission. The entrance exams were created much later when the Academy became subsidized by the Crown.” He gave her a shy smile that was nevertheless full of pride. “I helped design the exams.”

“You?!” the elleth exclaimed.

Valandur nodded. “I was still a student myself, you must understand, but one of the senior students, and we were asked to help contribute to the exams.”

“So I have you to blame for my sleeplessness and worry and near going insane over them?” she asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Well, only for the part of the exams that deal with languages,” he replied with a sniff, feigning disdain. “I cannot answer for the other parts.”

Laurelindalë snorted in good humor and then they were both laughing. About that time, one of the guards started singing a favorite ballad known to all and sundry and others, including Valandur and Laurelindalë, joined in. Valandur noticed that neither Ingoldo nor Tinwetariel sang, but Intarion did and when he happened to catch the ellon’s eye, the High King’s nephew gave him a warm smile, but he never stopped singing.

****

When they came to Valmar, a Maia wearing the sky-blue surcoat of the Elder King and who gave his name as Fionwë invited them to join Lord Manwë and Lady Varda for refreshments at their mansion. Valandur did not think that invitation included him and he started to join the guards and other support personnel who were being directed by a second Maia to a pavilion that had been set up on the other side of the east gate.

“The invitation includes you, Valandur Voronwion,” Fionwë said, giving him a knowing smile.

Valandur paled somewhat but dutifully dismounted from his horse and followed the others into the mansion. While he had been to Valmar a number of times, he had never been inside any of the mansions of the Valar and he found himself awestruck at the beauty and grandeur of the place, for it was apparent that the mansion had not been built with the Eldar in mind. Fionwë led them down a hall toward a set of doors made of beaten gold and incised with what Valandur thought were scenes of life among the Valar and Maiar, for he saw no semblance of the Eldar in any of them. He wasn’t given much time to examine the door more carefully, for they opened of themselves and Fionwë was announcing them.

Lord Ingoldo and Lady Tinwetariel stepped past the Maia and made their way into the room with everyone else following, Valandur being last and the most reluctant. Fionwë gave him a wink as he passed him and somehow that helped, for he felt less anxious. He bowed along with the others and when the Elder King had greeted them, found himself being led to a chair and given a goblet of wine while Lord Ingoldo and Lord Manwë conversed in soft tones. He took a sip and began to relax even more, stealing glances at the room and its occupants.

The chamber was small and intimate and Valandur suspected it was often used for gatherings such as this one. Lord Manwë and Lady Varda sat on throne-like chairs yet they were on a level with the other chairs that faced them. He wondered suddenly if the Valar often met here to discuss the doings of the realm in a relaxed setting rather than in the throne room in Ilmarin or at the Ring of Doom.

“Indeed we do, young Valandur,” Manwë said, breaking off his conversation with Ingoldo.

Valandur started, tensing again as he saw Ingoldo’s sour expression and the wary looks of the others. Even Intarion seemed surprised that the Elder King would address him who was the least of this company. “M-my lord?” he stammered.

Manwë smiled gently at him. “We Valar often meet here to discuss matters. It is more intimate and less, shall we say, daunting than our throne room, which we only use when absolutely necessary. I much prefer our meetings here.”

Valandur nodded. “Thank you, my lord,” he said, not knowing what else to say. “It... it is a very beautiful room.”

Manwë just nodded and returned his attention to Ingoldo. Valandur took another sip of the wine to steady him, for he was shaking. Laurelindalë, who was sitting on his right, reached out a hand and patted him on the arm. He gave her a small smile and tried to relax. The meeting did not last much longer after that. Manwë gave them his blessing and then they were outside where Maiar were waiting with their horses. They continued on through the east gate where their guards were waiting and then they went on. It had been decided that they would stop shortly after Second Mingling, now a few hours away, to rest, resuming their journey an hour after First Mingling.

There was no talking or singing as they traveled down the Rómenya Tëa and Valandur was grateful for that, wishing to be alone with his thoughts. But when they did stop to rest and have a meal, true to her word, Laurelindalë introduced him to the others in the delegation. Nolondilmë and Sorondur proved personable and friendly. Aldamir was a bit stand-offish, giving him a brief nod of greeting. Valandur decided that the ellon was simply shy and unsure of himself, rather than being arrogant. There was something in his eyes that belied the impression that he was in any way as self-important as Laurelindalë had suggested. Valandur vowed to himself to win over the ellon and hopefully they would become friends.

While they were sitting together around one of the small fires, Intarion joined them. They all rose to their feet to give him a proper greeting but he waved them back down. “Please, it’s bad enough when we’re at home, can we not dispense with so much courtesy out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“We’re hardly nowhere, my lord,” Aldamir replied somewhat pedantically, though Valandur thought he caught a glimmer of sly amusement in the ellon’s eyes. “We passed an inn not two hours ago and we’re camped beside a road.”

“Yes, I know,” Intarion answered as he sat with them, “but if it’s not Vanyamar then it’s nowhere.”

They all laughed at that. When they had calmed down, Intarion turned to Valandur. “I understand you used to live in Tirion.”

“A long time ago, my lord,” Valandur admitted. “I have not been back since we Vanyar went to Vanyamar, though I do have friends there. If you are asking me what I know of the city, I can only tell you what I remember of it. I am sure it has changed after all these yéni.”

“Perhaps to some degree,” Intarion acknowledged, “but its layout would not have. So, tell us what you remember of it if you will, for none of us have been there.”

“Not even you?” Valandur asked in surprise. “But I know that the High King....”

Intarion nodded. “Yes, but I have never gone,” and there was a bitter edge to that statement.

Valandur swallowed the questions he wanted to ask and simply nodded. “Well, Tirion, of course, was built upon a hill, a single hill that rises above the plain of the Calacirya. It is surrounded by the estates of the nobles on the west, north and south sides, but not on the east where lies a large garden....”

****

They stopped one more time along the way before they reached the city. Valandur watched it rising before them as the road took a final curve to reveal Tirion in all its glory. There was the Mindon, the Tower of Ingwë, with its lamp forever burning down the Calacirya. There were the walls that circled the lower parts of Túna, pierced by three gates. Valandur felt a rising sense of excitement and trepidation as they came to the west gate with Ingoldo greeting the guards and identifying himself and his entourage. He wondered about his friends, especially his otorno, Calandil. There had been no time to send a message alerting them of his arrival. He hoped he would be given some free time to look them up and imagined their surprise when they saw him.

Yet, he could not help feeling some trepidation at what he would find on the other side of the gate. Would the first city of the Eldar have changed all that much? He doubted it, and yet....

“Well, is it as you remember it?” Sorondur whispered to him as they passed through the gate and made their way up the street that would lead to the palace.

Valandur looked about him in dismay. “It looks so empty,” he whispered back. “Where are all the people?”

Sorondur gave him a shrewd look. “I imagine back in Vanyamar,” he said.

Valandur started at the words and then nodded mutely. Yes, of course. The city had been originally built to accommodate all the Vanyar and the Noldor, but when the Vanyar left.... He sighed, recognizing the truth of Sorondur’s statement and he could not fail to notice that those Noldor who were on the streets watching their progress gave no greetings of welcome or cheer, their expressions wary and closed. He feared that many of the people looking on had yet to forgive the Vanyar for deserting them as they had, though he had never thought of it as desertion. Certainly his friends when they had met on occasion during festival time had given no indication that they believed the Vanyar had abandoned them. Still, it was something to keep in mind at the negotiating table. He would have to speak to Laurelindalë and the others about it.

If the ordinary people on the streets had been less than welcoming, that could not be said of those at the palace of the Noldóran. They were greeted with much fanfare and pomp, with flowing speeches of welcome. Valandur, ever alert to the undertones of what was said and not said, found the welcoming ceremony wearying and thought that the silence of the common people had been more honest. He began to see just why the High King wanted him to be a part of the delegation. As he followed the others through the halls of the palace to the north wing where they would reside he had the feeling that he would have his work cut out for him.

****

Noldóran: High King of the Noldor, i.e. Finwë.

Lambengolmo: Loremaster of Tongues.

Rómenya Tëa: East Road.