9: A Day of Rest

As it was, Valandur was not able to get away as quickly as he wished. Aldamir apparently had told Ingoldo about him and Ingoldo had not been pleased.

“You are here merely on sufferance, Voronwion,” the prince said to him when Valandur was called before him shortly after they had broken their fast. “I did not wish for you to be a part of this delegation, for I saw no reason that made any sense for you being here. However, as my brother is my king as well as yours, I had no choice, but that does not mean you have any right to speak out during the negotiations. You are to remain silent unless asked to speak. In the meantime, continue your observations if you must, though frankly I do not see where there is any problem. Our two clans haven’t strayed so far from one another that we are incomprehensible to one another. However, after each session, you may help Aldamir with organizing the notes for the meetings so we have a clear record of what was said and done.”

This meant that once the meeting was over for that day, he would be spending most of the time taking the notes made by the scribes who were at the meeting and collating them, for each scribe was charged with recording the words of a particular person or group of people and then all the notes had to be put together into a coherent whole. That meant hours of work for both Aldamir and Valandur. It had been decided after some discussion that the Vanyar would be responsible for this, given that the Noldor were supplying the scribes, something that Ingwë had failed to take into account when creating the delegation. So poor Aldamir was left to handle this particular task as part of his duties as Ingoldo’s secretary.

“And in truth, I welcome the help,” Aldamir said to Valandur as they were going over the scribal notes. “Some of these scribes leave much to be desired in terms of their writing skills.”

Valandur, in spite of his dour mood, couldn’t help smiling at that, for he agreed. He remembered how awkward he had first felt when learning to scribe the tengwar which Rúmil had devised and it had taken him longer than most of his friends to get the hang of it. Even now, he admitted to himself, he wrote more slowly and carefully than most. Yet more than one person had praised him for his legibility, so he figured that was not a bad thing.

For a time there was little speech between the two ellyn as they worked side-by-side in attempting to collate that day’s meeting, which had gone not as anyone had planned, for Princess Findis had decided to re-examine the list of concerns that the Vanyar had brought with them and which Valandur had copied out for her. With the Noldor were two high-ranking guildmasters, one from the Miners’ guild, a Master Mahtan, and the other from the Clothiers’ guild, a Master Palarran, who admitted that the name was given him by his parents when, as a very young elfling of three, he had been discovered heading toward Valmar, apparently bent on visiting the Valar.

“No one could figure out how I managed to make my way past the gates without anyone seeing me,” he said with a laugh and the others grinned.

“How far did you get, and who found you?” Intarion asked.

“Hmm… I think I got as far as the last estate. I’m not sure who found me. By the time I got that far I was tired and curled up under a tree to take a nap. When I woke up I was back in my own room.” He smiled shyly and everyone else chuckled and then Ingoldo asked Findis why she had invited the guildmasters to the meeting.

Both ellyn had evinced surprise that no one had thought to consult them about the trade negotiations until then.

“Which I thought odd, considering that the shipment of raw metals is a major sticking point in any negotiations there have been before this,” Master Mahtan exclaimed. “And I believe Master Palarran’s guild has also had some problems with shipments of cloths.”

“One of the complaints our own Clothiers’ guild had was that they would like to see lower tariffs on the importation of the new looms your guild has developed,” Sorondur said. “They feel that you are disadvantaging them so that they cannot compete on an even level with you, for they cannot weave as quickly on their looms as you can on yours and there is the question of why you will not allow any of the Vanyar to learn how these new looms are constructed so they can simply make them and save you the problem of shipping them.”

“And it seems odd that none of your people have studied the new looms to see how they work,” Master Palarran retorted. “Our guild has not forbidden any to learn the making of the new looms, but you Vanyar are not known for your engineering skills.”

One or two of the Vanyar bristled at that but the guildmaster ignored them. “And even for us,” he continued, “making these new looms is time-consuming. It takes nearly ten First Minglings to construct just one and the wood that we get from the southern forests also has to be collected and cured before it can be used. That also takes time.”

“Well, at any rate, I asked Masters Mahtan and Palarran here so we can go over the list of concerns,” Findis said smoothly before anyone could comment on Palarran’s words. “So, why don’t we take each point one at a time?” And so the rest of the session was spent on going back over the list a second time with the two guildmasters giving their opinions on the concerns raised by the Vanyarin guildmasters.

Now, hours later, Valandur and Aldamir were attempting to decipher the scribal notes on the meeting, though in truth, Valandur was having trouble concentrating. He had been charged with organizing the speeches of the Noldor and found himself lingering over Findis’ words recorded by one of the scribes, remembering, as he read, the way her eyes sparkled with intelligence and humor, the musical lilt of her voice, how her accent kept shifting between Noldorin and Vanyarin in a completely unconscious manner, the way she used certain phrases that were completely her own. He was fascinated by that, for they were not idioms commonly shared by most of the Eldar regardless of clan; they were unique to her and he wondered idly where she had come across such phrasing.

He found himself blushing slightly as he remembered their conversation as they were all departing for the day.

“Have you had a chance to read the book I lent you, my lord?” she had asked him before they left the conference room. He had noticed Ingoldo and the other Vanyar, as well as Lord Herencáno, lingering to listen to their conversation. Both Ingoldo and Tinwetariel had frowns and Intarion had raised an eyebrow, while the other Vanyar had simply gaped. Herencáno, he noticed, had a slight smile on his face. He tried to ignore them all as he gave the princess a courteous bow.

“I have only just begun perusing it, my lady,” he answered. “It has been a while since I last read anything written in Rúmil’s tengwar so the going is slow and Rúmil writes in an earlier dialect of Quenya, one that I have not spoken myself in a very long time.”

“When you have finished the book, I would be interested in hearing your thoughts,” Findis said.

“And I will be happy to share them with you, my lady,” Valandur responded with another bow.

They had parted company then, with the Vanyar moving toward the north wing. For a time, as they traversed the wide hallways, no one spoke, but finally Intarion had given him a diffident look. “Rúmil?” he asked.

Valandur began to resent the smirks and the looks of disapproval on everyone’s faces. “When I went to deliver that list Aldamir had me write out to Princess Findis, she was reading a treatise by Master Rúmil and we had a short conversation about him and his works. As I was leaving, the princess insisted on loaning the book to me as I had admitted that I had not had an opportunity to read that particular treatise, for it is a very rare volume.”

“And of course you couldn’t wait to get your hands on it, could you?” Tinwetariel said with a sneer as she walked beside her husband who gave Valandur a leer.

“I could hardly refuse her offer without offending her, now, could I?” Valandur retorted, becoming angry. “Had she been reading a volume of poetry by… by Terendul Mavor,” — naming a shepherd from the Southern Fiefdoms who fancied himself a poet; he noticed most of his listeners wincing at the name — “I would not have refused and would even have read it, knowing she would want to discuss it.”

An uneasy silence fell among them and finally Tinwetariel sniffed in disdain as if the matter no longer concerned her and Ingoldo just shrugged and the matter was dropped.

“If you continue staring at that piece of paper we’ll never get this done.”

Valandur jerked at the sound of Aldamir’s voice breaking into his reverie and he blushed as he focused on the notes before him and began writing them out in a fair script. “Sorry. I was… er… thinking about what had been said during the meeting. Master Mahtan appeared to know far more about things than I was expecting.”

“He has the ear of Lord Aulë,” Aldamir said, giving a nod. “Master Palarran was a bit impolitic with his remarks.”

“You mean accusing us Vanyar of stupidity?” Valandur retorted with a grin.

Aldamir chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Well, he was partly right,” Valandur conceded. “We are not as gifted in inventiveness as the Noldor, or at least not with material matters. I doubt even Prince Fëanáro would dispute the fact that the Vanyar are more gifted in the composition of song and poetry than the Noldor, with one or two exceptions.”

Aldamir nodded. “Still, he does have a point. I wonder why no one from our Clothiers’ guild has been able to duplicate this new loom that apparently has them all agog?”

Valandur shrugged. “Well, when we return to Vanyamar, you’ll have to ask the guildmasters. Now what do you suppose this word is?” he asked, shoving the foolscap Aldamir’s way, pointing to a scribble. Aldamir squinted at it and for several minutes they held a debate on what the word might be, finally giving up with Aldamir suggesting that Valandur just choose the most obvious word that would make sense in the sentence.

“And if it’s wrong?” Valandur asked.

Aldamir shrugged. “Then we’ll make a correction, but honestly, do you think anyone actually reads this stuff?”

“If so, then why do we bother?”

“Because we’ve been told to do it, and that is all we need to know about it. What others do with this is their business and none of ours.”

Valandur sighed and Aldamir gave him a sympathetic look. “I entirely agree, my friend. Come, let us finish this up and go find an inn where we may drown our sorrows and you can tell me about this book of Rúmil’s. I met him once, did you know?”

Valandur gave him a surprised look and then nodded. “Yes, let’s get this over with. I would be interested in hearing your thoughts on the ellon for I have never had the pleasure of actually speaking with him, though I hope to do so while I am here.”

Within the hour, they were done and shortly thereafter they were ensconced in the Golden Hare, happily sipping on some Tirion white while Aldamir regaled Valandur about his one and only meeting with the famed loremaster.

Later, as they were walking back to the palace, Aldamir said, “I am not sorry that I told Prince Ingoldo about what happened yesterday. I knew that if I or Prince Intarion did not tell him, he would have heard it from one of the Noldor and that would not have been good. I am sorry that you’ve been saddled with helping me, for it is not your task.”

“But it is yours?” Valandur asked. “I would think it would be the task of the scribes.”

Aldamir shrugged. “Well, I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to act as Prince Ingoldo’s secretary, so I don’t actually mind.”

“I think it is unfair that you have to do this all by yourself,” Valandur said. “I wondered why you had not joined us after the daymeal for conversation and song. I figured it was because you were either too shy or too full of yourself to associate with the rest of us.”

Aldamir gave him a wry grin. “I am shy, and I find such gatherings uncomfortable. Working on the notes is preferable to pretending I am actually enjoying myself. People want you to sing along or recite poetry or play an instrument or something. I just want to be left to myself.”

“Well, with me helping things should go a lot faster and then you’ll have more time for yourself to do what you want rather than do what everyone thinks you should be doing. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

“Paint,” came the surprising answer. Valandur lifted an eyebrow at that and Aldamir blushed. “Being Prince Ingoldo’s secretary is only a temporary position. I’ve applied to the Illuminators’ guild. I hope to be accepted by them when we return to Vanyamar.”

“So you wish to be an illuminator?”

“Not necessarily, but apprenticing myself to one of the masters will help me improve my painting and drawing skills. At the same time, being an illuminator will bring me some income so I am not dependent on my parents all the time.”

“How do your parents feel about you becoming an apprentice?” Valandur asked. “Your atar is a member of Ingwë’s court, is he not?”

“And ammë is a lady-in-waiting to the queen, as is my sister. I am the second-born son. My brother, Artamir, is our atar’s heir and is already a member of the Crown judiciary. My parents are happy enough that I have found a purpose in my life.”

“Then I wish you every success,” Valandur said sincerely and Aldamir thanked him.

****

It was actually three days before Valandur was free from scribal duties, at least for a time. Unfortunately, it was Valanya, a day of rest and relaxation for all and so not even the shops were open for business. Valandur felt frustrated in his attempt to meet with the coppersmith and his son. Finwë had sent an invitation to Ingoldo and the rest of their delegation to join him and his family for a day of hawking and picnicking at the park named after him. Valandur was torn between joining them, knowing that Findis would be there, and seeking out his own friends. In the end, though, he knew that he had no choice, for to refuse the Noldóran’s invitation would not be politic. He sent a hurried note to Calandil and Aldarion, explaining his predicament, stating that he hoped to find a day sometime in the next week or so when he could meet with them.

The day began with the people gathering in the plaza fronting the palace an hour after First Mingling to sing paeans to the Valar while the royal family looked on. Valandur, standing with the other Vanyar, joined in with the singing, as did they all, for the songs were well known among the Eldar and the Vanyar held a similar concert each Valanya, but in front of the Ingaran’s palace. Once the singing was over, Finwë blessed the populace and then everyone dispersed to pursue their own pleasures. For those at the palace, this meant a sumptuous breakfast, more elaborate than was served during the rest of the week and lasting nearly three hours as people lingered over their meal, taking their time.

Finally, though, they departed for the park, taking the tunnel made of trees which connected the palace with Finwë Park. The younger members of their party were astounded by the structure, asking how it had been formed. Valandur smiled at their obvious delight, well remembering the patient grooming by the royal gardeners as they encouraged the young trees to grow in a particular manner.

Thus, they made their way down the tunnel with the Noldorin royals leading. Valandur had hoped to walk beside Findis, ostensibly to speak to her about Rúmil’s book, but he had to content himself with walking with the other Vanyar. Earlier, servants and guards had taken the horses, hunting birds and other supplies down to the park and were waiting for them when they came out of the tunnel. Immediately, those who were planning on going hawking retrieved their birds and horses and headed southward where hawking generally took place while others wandered away to enjoy the day.

Valandur had been glad to know he did not need to go hawking, and indeed, had no knowledge of the sport, for it was something done by the nobles or guildmasters who could afford both hawks and horses. Valandur, in fact, had brought along Rúmil’s book with the intention of finding a likely tree to sit under and spend the time reading. He had taken care, though, to hide the book in a small satchel in which he had also placed a small bottle of hard cider purchased at the Golden Hare the day before along with a wooden goblet.

Most of the other members of the Vanyarin delegation were all going hawking as were the Noldorin royal family and nobles, but as they rode away to the south, Valandur realized that only a few people were still standing near the tunnel entrance. One of them was Princess Findis with a few of her ladies-in-waiting, the other was Aldamir who carried his own satchel.

“You do not join the others in hawking?” he asked the ellon.

Aldamir shrugged. “I prefer to do some sketches,” he said. “I brought some supplies and this is the first opportunity I’ve had to do any sketching.” He gave him a shy look.

“It is Valanya after all,” Valandur said with a smile. “We work hard enough the other four days of the week, you should be able to do what you wish on your one day free.”

“What about you?” Aldamir asked. “I get the feeling you were not happy to join us for this picnic.”

Valandur shrugged. “I had hope to get together with some friends but I deemed refusing the Noldóran’s invitation would not have been wise. I am just glad that he did not insist that we all go hawking, for I have not the experience.”

“So what do you plan to do?” Aldamir asked.

Valandur started to answer but was interrupted by Findis who joined them. The two ellyn gave her bows in greeting. “I could not help overhearing you say something about sketching, Aldamir.”

“Yes, Highness. It is a… um… hobby of mine, at least for the moment,” Aldamir replied. “I am hoping to be admitted to the Guild of Illuminators at our Academy when we return to Vanyamar.”

“A worthy goal and I wish you every success,” Findis said sincerely.

“You are not going hawking with the others, Princess?” Valandur asked politely.

“It is not something I care to do,” Findis replied diffidently. “And you, Loremaster. What plans have you for the day?”

“I was about to ask Aldamir if he minded if I joined him. I have brought something to read.” He gave her a shy smile and she smiled back with a knowing look.

“Ah… well, I don’t really mind,” Aldamir said. “I thought to sketch the lake.” He pointed to the northeast where a small elf-made lake took up a fair portion of that section of the park. There were shade trees, mostly willows, gracing the shore along the west side, leaving the rest open to the park. Water fowl and swans swam lazily in the still waters and elflings were wading in the shallows under the watchful eyes of their parents. All around were others enjoying the park, for it was a favorite place for picnics and small gatherings. Further away, they could even hear the sounds of a lute and a harp and the clear voices of an elleth and ellon singing a favorite ballad about the Great Migration.

“Then let us hence,” Findis said, nodding to her entourage of ellith and the two guards which propriety and good sense demanded to follow her, while Valandur and Aldamir flanked her. “Where would you like to sit?” she asked Aldamir.

“I want to get the trees in, so I was thinking of sitting over there.” He pointed to a spot to his right about fifty paces from the southern shore of the lake where a few maple trees covered a small knoll.

Findis nodded and they headed that way. Soon, Aldamir was sitting under one of the maples, pulling out a large tablet of foolscap and some charcoal pencils, ignoring the others who kept their distance. Findis, in fact, had settled herself under another maple so that she was actually facing back toward the city with her ladies gathered around her. One of them carried a small lap harp and was softly strumming it while the other two pulled out embroidery hoops from their own satchels and began stitching. Findis, much to Valandur’s surprise, did the same.

He stood somewhat uncertainly, not sure where he was expected to sit. Findis saved him the trouble of deciding. Without looking up from her stitching, she said, “Come and sit with us, Loremaster, and tell me what you think of Rúmil’s treatise, at least the part you have already read.”

One of the ellith gave him a coy smile and moved her position so that there was a space beside the princess. The guards were stationed several feet away, facing in different directions, apparently ignoring them all, though Valandur knew that wasn’t true. Blushing slightly, he settled himself gracefully on the sward, acutely aware of Findis’ ladies looking at him by not looking at him. He cleared his throat somewhat nervously.

“I have only read up to the part where he begins speaking of how he studied the different sounds which make up our speech and devising suitable sarati.”

Findis nodded, still not looking at him. “Rúmil’s writing system appears to be more complex than the one my brother devised. I notice that his does not incorporate all the sounds Rúmil insisted were part of our speech patterns.”

Valandur nodded. “I am aware of that, for it was something we had to study at the Academy. Prince Fëanáro’s system is less phonetic than Rúmil’s system, for in actuality our speech patterns have changed over time and we have dropped many of the earlier sounds or have incorporated them into others. Prince Fëanáro simplified the writing system to reflect this. Also, in our earliest writings we tended to write vertically rather than horizontally, though this was by no means a universal practice. Your brother and the other lambengolmor decided eventually to change to a horizontal form, though I understand that the Teleri still utilize Rúmil’s sarati and continue writing vertically.”

“Well, they are rather… um… conservative in their views,” Findis said with a sly smile.

Valandur chuckled. “Some people would even say that they are somewhat backwards and uncouth compared to the Noldor and Vanyar.”

“And do you consider them so?” Findis asked, frowning somewhat.

“No, or actually, I have no real opinion, for I have never met them. My family had no friends among them, you see.”

Findis nodded. “I remember the yelling back and forth when my brother was trying to convince our atar that his writing system was far superior to that of Rúmil’s.” She gave him a wry look. “I often wondered what Master Rúmil thought of it all, but I never got to ask him, for he left Tirion some time ago to live in Valmar and is rather reclusive.”

“I did not know that,” Valandur said with a dispirited sigh. “I had hoped to meet him while we were here. I remember struggling over learning his sarati when they were first put forth for general use. Aldamir met him once, though.”

He turned to speak with the ellon but was surprised to find that he was no longer sitting nearby but had moved somewhat closer to the lake. He wasn’t sure if that meant he found their discussion distracting or if he simply desired to paint from a different angle. Now he started feeling awkward again, realizing he was the only ellon among the ellith (the guards did not count). He was tempted to excuse himself, but knew that he had no legitimate excuse to do so without offending the princess. Findis seemed to pick up on his unease, for she put her embroidery down and stood, forcing everyone else to do the same.

“Why do we not stroll through the park?” she suggested. “Perhaps we will meet some others along the way. It will be some time before those who went hawking return and then we will have our picnic.”

They all agreed to that. Findis surprised Valandur by actually slipping an arm around his in a very forward manner. “So, tell me about the early days when you first arrived in Valinor. What was it like?”

For a moment Valandur did not speak, feeling somewhat embarrassed to be walking so intimately with the princess, while her ladies and the guards trailed them. Eventually, though, he knew he had to answer. “I remember crossing the pass that brought us through the Pelóri into the plains of Valinor, for this was before the Calacirya was created. I was stunned by the Light and the colors. I remember collapsing on the ground weeping. Then to my everlasting surprise, there was a Maia kneeling beside me, giving me a hug and welcoming me….”

****

Palarran: ‘Far-wanderer’.

Mavor: Shepherd.

Sarati: Plural of sarat: The ‘letter’ or any individual significant mark in the Rúmilian Alphabet, from *SAR ‘score, incise’ > ‘write’. The Fëanorian letters were always called tengwar in Quenya [see The War of the Jewels].

Note: The Elves of Aman, prior to the creation of the Sun and Moon, adopted the five-day week of the Valar but gave them different names. The seven-day week was invented by the Númenóreans, according to Tolkien. The days of the week in Aman are: Elenya (Star-day), Eärenya (Sea-day), Aldúya (Two-Trees-day), Menelya (Heaven-day) and Valanya (Powers-day).