13: An Audience with Lord Ulmo

Once the cove was out of sight, Lindarion clapped Valandur on the shoulder and suggested they go dry off. “I have a change of clothes for you. I don’t think you want to go to your audience before Lord Ulmo dripping, though, seeing as how he is the Lord of Waters, I doubt he would actually mind.”

The prince’s attempt at levity failed to mollify Valandur, but he nodded dutifully and followed Lindarion to his cabin where absorbent towels were on hand and soon he was divested of his wet clothes and dressed in a silk tunic that was far richer than anything he had ever worn before. Lindarion handed him a comb for his hair so he could replait it.

Once they were dressed, Lindarion invited him to join him on deck, and they stood at the prow, out of the way of the crew. One of the crew came with goblets of mead and for a moment or two they sipped the honey-wine as they looked out upon the dark Sea. “We will be in Alqualondë in a few hours,” the prince told him.

“I still do not understand why Lord Ulmo wishes to speak with me or why he simply could not have done so at the cove instead of making me go all the way to Alqualondë when he must know that Prince Ingoldo will not appreciate my absence from the negotiations. There is no way that I can return in time for the next session and I am already in trouble with his Highness.”

Lindarion gave him a sympathetic look. “I am sorry. Believe me, I had other plans myself, but when Lord Ulmo appeared to me and told me what he wished, I could hardly refuse.”

Valandur gave him a puzzled look. “You had to have left hours ago to reach us when you did, yet I did not know we would be at that particular cove until we arrived there.”

Lindarion nodded. “I left Alqualondë before the time of Mingling. We Lindar do not keep time as you do, but we long calculated the ebb and flow of the Light and matched it with the rising and falling of certain stars. I was on my way to join my family in celebrating Valanya when Lord Ulmo summoned me.” He gave Valandur a wry look. “I was not even given a chance to change into something more appropriate.”

In spite of himself, Valandur smiled. “I thought you were a bit overdressed for fishing.”

Lindarion laughed. Valandur took another sip of the mead and sighed, his expression one of worry. Lindarion squeezed his shoulder. “I promise you, all will be well.”

“How can you promise me that?” Valandur asked.

“Because Lord Ulmo told me to tell you so.” Lindarion gave him a considering look. “You seem a bit uneasy at the thought of meeting Lord Ulmo, yet you are a Minya and it is said that the Minyai converse with the Vali all the time.”

Valandur snorted. “I have never conversed with any of the Valar, and I have only spoken to a Maia once or twice. It is not the thought of speaking with Lord Ulmo that troubles me so much as the manner in which he wishes to do so.”

“I cannot help you there, my friend,” Lindarion said sympathetically. “But come, tell me of yourself. Why are you in Tirion at all, for I have heard that all the Minyai left that city to commune with the Vali while walking through the forests which cover the lower slopes of Taniquetil, eating roots and berries and sleeping in trees.”

Valandur gave him a jaundiced look. “Wherever did you hear such nonsense? We live in a city which we named Vanyamar, and while it is true that the lower slopes of the Mount are covered with forests, I have never wandered through them eating roots and berries and sleeping in trees, nor do I know anyone who has. Think you we Vanyar are such primitives?”

Lindarion just shrugged. “I only tell you what I have heard. So what do you do in this city of yours? And if you do not commune with the Vali on a regular basis, why did you even bother leaving Tirion? I thought the whole idea of doing so was so you could be closer to the Powers.”

Valandur resisted a sigh, wondering how he could explain what had driven the Vanyar from Tirion, a process that had taken nearly two yéni, for they had not all left at the same time.

“My family did not leave Tirion with the first wave that followed Ingwë, for we had many friends among the Noldor. You met Minalcar. He traveled with us, for his own family had chosen not to continue on but to follow Lenwë when we came to the Great River. Minalcar desired to come to Valinor and so he remained with us.”

“That must have been hard for him,” Lindarion said.

“Hard for us all,” Valandur replied. “Leaving the only home we knew was not something any of us decided lightly. Well, anyway, I was most reluctant to leave Tirion, for I had, still have, otornor among the Noldor.”

“But none among your own clan,” Lindarion said shrewdly.

Valandur shrugged. “It just fell out that way. There was another Vanya in our group, Kampo we called him. Can’t remember his real name. He was always leaping around from one thing to another, seemingly never standing still.”

“You speak of him in the past,” Lindarion said softly.

Valandur nodded, staring out across the dark waters reflecting starlight. “We were in the mountains,” he finally said in a whisper. “There was a violent storm and then there was an avalanche and…”

Instinctively, Lindarion hugged him. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

Valandur just nodded, his gaze still on the ocean. After a moment or two, he sighed. “Well, anyway, my family was one of the last to leave Tirion, reluctantly, but we left, for we sensed an uneasiness, a restlessness of spirit, fall upon our Noldorin friends and we worried that it might spell danger to us, though if you asked any Vanya they would be unable to tell you why.”

“I have had little to do with either the Minyai or the Tatyai so I cannot say for myself if what you felt about them is true.”

“True or not, it is what we felt, and truthfully, I think it was wise of Ingwë to remove his people when he did. Each clan, I believe, has its own destiny and had we remained in Tirion, I don’t think things would have gone well between us. I know many among the Noldor were upset with our leaving, but we did not part in animosity. Part of the reason for the trade negotiations is to help bridge the gap between our respective clans, draw them closer.”

“And what is your role in this?” Lindarion asked.

Valandur gave him a snort. “I am beginning to wonder.” He quickly explained his background and his audience with Ingwë and what had happened so far with the delegation. “I do not know what Ingwë really expects from me,” he concluded. “Ingoldo barely tolerates my presence and I have been relegated to the position of being the secretary to the secretary.”

Lindarion looked pensive. “I cannot help you there, my friend. I fear any advice I give would be next to useless, for I have no knowledge of any of the people of whom you speak.” He gave the loremaster a sly grin. “But tell me more of the Princess Findis. Is she fair? I find it passing strange to think of one who has the blood and humors of two clans flowing through her veins. She must be always at odds with herself.”

Valandur gave him an amused look. “Princess Findis has the golden locks of her amillë’s people, but the fiery spirit of her atar’s. She is herself, whole and complete, and is no more at odds with herself than any of us are. She does have an interesting talent for adopting the intonations of the person with whom she is speaking, very unconsciously mind you, sounding like a Vanya one minute and a Noldo the next and she has some interesting idiomatic ways of saying things.”

Lindarion gave him a disbelieving look and then chuckled, clearly amused. “Ah, trust a loremaster who specializes in languages to speak of a fair elleth as if she were an interesting verb form.”

Valandur blushed, only then realizing what he had done. “She is quite fair,” he muttered almost apologetically.

Lindarion laughed, clapping Valandur on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “Of that, Etta, I have no doubt.”

Valandur gave the prince a surprised look, for Lindarion had used an old term that had been reserved for those who were considered part of one’s family even if not closely related. The Vanyar and Noldor had abandoned its usage for the more intimate tyenya. Lindarion merely smiled at his discomfiture. “When we reach Alqualondë, after your audience with Lord Ulmo, perhaps you would like to speak with our own loremasters,” he suggested and Valandur could only nod.

“Ah, I think we have arrived,” Lindarion said, pointing and Valandur gasped at his first sight of Alqualondë, Olwë’s city of swans.

At first, all he could see was a rock wall which Lindarion told him enclosed the city, forming a basin of quiet waters. As the ship sailed eastward around the ring of rocks he saw that the wall sank somewhat and there was a mighty arch of living stone. So great was this that Valandur suspected that, except for the mightiest ships, two might pass through, nor would the mast-tops come nigh to grazing the rock. Looking south before the ship passed through the arch he saw that little of the Light of the Trees came nigh by reason of the wall, and now as they came within the harbor he could see how it was lit with a ring of lamps of gold, and there were lanterns of many colors tokening the wharves and landings of the different houses. Lindarion pointed to one particular quay with lanterns of blue glass which betokened the royal landing and it was there that the ship was heading.

The harbor seemed strangely empty though, and Valandur wondered aloud where the ships were, for there were only a few in sight.

“Most of our fleet is out fishing,” Lindarion explained. He pointed to a particular constellation. “They will return with their catches when Wilwarin crosses over and begins to sink into the Sea.”

By now their ship had reached the landing and ropes were being thrown over to secure it. Lindarion led Valandur down the gangplank. “Your clothes will be washed and dried and returned to you before you leave,” he told the loremaster. “Now, I was told to bring you directly to my atar first. He will take you to speak with Lord Ulmo.”

“And what about you?” Valandur asked.

Lindarion shrugged. “I believe my part in all this is over,” he replied. “At any rate, Atar is the one who should properly introduce you to the Lord of Waters, for he communes with him on a regular basis. I have only done so occasionally and always in Atar’s presence.”

Valandur said nothing to this, concentrating on trying not to gawk at the city as they walked along the walkways and over bridges that crisscrossed the canals linking the city to the harbor. He admired the simple architecture that nevertheless was exquisite in detail with various marine motifs carved over doorways, which Lindarion explained were used to describe a particular person’s address.

“So, someone might say that they live on Celma Lirillo in the house of the three clam shells as opposed to the house with the dolphin.”

“The canals are named?” Valandur asked.

Lindarion nodded. “They are as streets to us.”

Soon, they were coming onto a wide plaza, the Arna Paca that fronted the palace of the Lindaran to find Olwë waiting for them. He smiled at his firstborn and heir, embracing him warmly, then he turned to Valandur and gazed upon him with interest as the Vanya gave him his obeisance.

“Welcome to Alqualondë, Loremaster,” Olwë said in greeting, his voice rich and deep, deeper than Valandur was expecting. “You are the first of the Minyai to ever grace us with your presence. Not even Ingwë has bothered to visit. Not that I blame him,” he continued, surprising Valandur with a wink, “especially if it meant getting his feet wet. He always hated getting his feet wet, as I recall, complaining every time we came to a stream that needed to be crossed.”

Valandur had no idea how to respond to that, and the image of the Ingaran which Olwë’s words evoked was such that he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing out loud. Olwë seemed to know what he was thinking for he smiled broadly, his eyes full of mischief.

“But come, enough of ancient history,” he said, gesturing for the two ellyn to follow him. “You are here to meet with Lord Ulmo.” He led them into the palace, walking swiftly so that Valandur had little time for looking about and was left with only a fleeting impression of translucent walls, marble tiles and fluted columns. They crossed a short covered bridge that linked the public part of the palace with the private apartments of the royal family situated on its own island. Valandur could see that the only way to reach the island was across the bridge, making it quite defensible, though he could not imagine why it would need to be defended or against whom. He put such troubling thoughts aside, deciding he was reading too much into things. It had probably been nothing more than an architectural decision not to provide any other link to the island save by way of this single bridge, thus providing the royal family a modicum of privacy.

“Lord Ulmo is expecting you,” Olwë said and Valandur started, suddenly aware that they had stopped before a closed door. “Lindarion will wait for you. When your audience is completed, he will bring you to meet the rest of the family and you will join us for a meal before we send you on your way. I fear we will not be able to return you to Tirion before Eärenya or possibly Aldúya.”

“I suggested that Lord Valandur might wish to speak with some of our own loremasters before he left,” Lindarion told Olwë who nodded and said that such a meeting could be arranged.

“I am no lord,” Valandur protested. “Please do not accord me titles to which I have no right. Loremaster is the only title I need or want.”

Olwë merely nodded and walked away, leaving Valandur with Lindarion. Valandur stared at the door, not willing to move. Lindarion gave him an amused look. “Lord Ulmo doesn’t bite,” he said and opened the door. Realizing he had no choice in the matter, the Vanya squared his shoulders and entered the chamber, trying not to wince when he heard the door close behind him.

He found himself in a small receiving room, tastefully, though sparsely, furnished with a couple of low-back chairs facing an open arch that looked out onto one of the wider canals. Someone was standing looking out but turned at his entrance and Valandur beheld, for the first time in his life, the Lord of Waters. He was somewhat taller than the Vanya, his long hair and beard the blue-green of seaweed, trailing nearly to the floor. His eyes were a deep purple. He wore a sleeveless robe that fell to mid-calf. It glittered with cold iridescence in the fitful light of the candles which illuminated the room, reminding Valandur of fish scales. The robe was belted with coral in shades of pale pink and deep red. His head was crowned with a wreath of pale yellow water-lilies. His feet were bare as were his legs.

Valandur gave the Vala his obeisance and Ulmo smiled, gesturing for him to come closer. “I am glad you accepted my invitation,” the Vala said, his voice deep and rumbling.

Valandur gave him a puzzled look. “Invitation? It sounded more like a summons… my lord.”

“From your perspective, perhaps,” Ulmo said with a nod. “You could have refused.”

“Refuse a summons from one of the Valar?” Valandur exclaimed. “I am many things, my lord, but I would hope stupid was not one of them.”

Ulmo chuckled and gestured for the Elf to join him in sitting. On the low table between the chairs were two cut-crystal goblets, into which Ulmo poured wine from a matching carafe, handing one of the goblets to Valandur.

“Was your trip pleasant?” Ulmo asked politely.

Valandur was unsure how to respond to the question so he asked one of his own. “Lord, why am I here? Why did you summon me? Could you not have met me at the cove? I do not understand why I had to come here to meet with you. Prince Ingoldo….”

“Ingoldo is not important,” Ulmo interrupted dismissively. “I will see to it that you are not unduly chastised for coming here. It was, after all, my idea. As for why here and not elsewhere… hmm… well, for now, let us say that you will only benefit from visiting with the Lindar. In the meantime, let us discuss certain matters between us.”

Valandur resisted a sigh and stared out the embrasure where he saw a small boat gliding along the canal with an ellon standing at the back poling while two people sat in the middle, an ellon and elleth holding hands, the ellon singing what appeared to be a song of love, though Valandur was unfamiliar with the tune or the words. He did not see Ulmo smiling at him.

“Quisero,” the Lord of Waters said, startling Valandur, who blushed. “An interesting name. I take it you were named thus because of your shyness?”

Valandur nodded. “As an elfling I tended to speak rather softly. Atar claimed that not even Eru could hear me, let alone anyone in the family.”

Ulmo laughed, the sound of it deep and rumbling yet full of bells echoing through eternity. “And then you came here and changed your name,” he said once he calmed down. “Why did you choose to name yourself as you did?”

Valandur shrugged, not entirely sure where the Vala was going with his question. “It just seemed right. I am not even sure what prompted me to choose to name myself thus. My friend, Simpandil, was the first among us to declare that he no longer wished to be known by his original name, which was Gwilindo.” He gave Ulmo a grin. “His ammë named him thus, for even at a very young age he was imitating the songs of the many birds that lived at Cuiviénen.”

Ulmo nodded. “And then there is your name.”

“Yes, well, I think I was the last among my friends to choose a new name. I can’t really say why I chose the name that I did. I remember trying different combinations of words, but none of them sounded right, at least not to me. When I stumbled upon ‘Valandur’ it just seemed right. I liked the sound of it.”

Ulmo nodded. “It suits you well, I deem. And its meaning is not lost on you, I would hope.”

Valandur gave him a puzzled look. “I am not sure what you mean, lord.”

“I mean only that anytime you hear your name being spoken you are reminded that ultimately you are our servant. Oh, not in any negative way, I assure you, but your greatest joy is in serving us, though you may not realize it.”

“But I don’t serve you, or at least… I hope someday to be granted the title of Manwendur, but still…”

“Whether you are ever accorded such an honor, I cannot say, for I do not know my brother Manwë’s will in this, but you serve us, all of us, in simply doing what you are doing, being a loremaster, but more than that, being a lambengolmo who sees the deeper implications of the drifting apart of the three clans, a drifting apart about which we Valar are concerned.”

“There is certainly a linguistic shift occurring between our three clans. The Noldor seem bent on devising new linguistic forms every time we turn around. It caught me by surprise to hear Prince Lindarion and King Olwë use older forms of speech that are no longer prevalent in the speech patterns of the Noldor or even the Vanyar, though we Vanyar have not adopted all such forms as the Noldor have devised.”

“And that linguistic shift is a sign that there are other cultural shifts that are occurring between the clans,” Ulmo stated. “These shifts are a concern to us.”

“Yet why?” Valandur asked. “Oh, I will admit that it’s sometimes frustrating to be listening to the Noldor lisping away, garbling their speech, and certainly I have noticed some customs of behavior that the Noldor have adopted that, frankly, appall me…”

“Such as?”

Valandur shrugged. “I notice a lessening of respect toward the Valar, at least, in day-to-day instances. The Noldor seem reluctant to begin any endeavor with a prayer or a hymn to the Valar asking for success in whatever undertaking is about to be done. I know it disturbs even Prince Ingoldo that Princess Findis does not begin every session with an invocation. I do not know if this is something endemic with all Noldor or simply an oversight on the part of the princess. No Vanya would begin even the smallest undertaking without asking the Valar to look favorably upon their efforts.”

“As if we had any real control over such trifling matters,” Ulmo said with a chuckle, “but, be that as it may, your point is well taken. These cultural differences are not in themselves a bad thing, but they can lead to misunderstandings. The Vanyar, for instance, may look upon the Noldor as being disrespectful toward us when the Noldor do not see it that way. They may excuse their lack of respect, if that is what it is, by pointing out, and quite truthfully, that the Valar have more important things to be doing than blessing every little thing that the Eldar do. It matters not who is correct in their thinking, only that such thinking can be a cause of contention among you and that possibility troubles us. Hence the reason for you being here.”

“I am not sure I follow,” Valandur admitted.

“Ingwë was wise to send you to observe the way the two clans interact while negotiating a trade agreement, but you are seeing only part of the picture. I wish that Olwë had agreed to send his own delegation. That way you would have had an opportunity to observe all three clans interacting. As it is, I decided that if the Lindar would not go to you, you should come to them. I think you need to see how they live to be able to make a correct and full comparison.”

He paused for a moment, taking the time to refill Valandur’s goblet before continuing. “The Lindar deem themselves uninterested in the doings of the other two clans and prefer not to bother with them, but such isolationistic thinking can be dangerous in the long run. Ingwë needs to be more assertive in his role as Ingaran and not just as Vanyaran. He needs to encourage more interaction between all three clans, not just between the Vanyar and the Noldor. That is where you come in. Hopefully, by giving him a more complete picture of how you are all drifting away from one another linguistically and culturally, he can do something about it, make sure that misunderstandings are minimized by proper knowledge of why the differences are there.”

Valandur nodded in understanding. “I know that Ingwë will be concerned about the Noldor dropping certain customs which we Vanyar consider important.”

“If you mean that you are concerned by the seeming lack of respect the Noldor have toward us, we Valar do not deem them as being any less pious than the Vanyar or the Lindar,” Ulmo retorted mildly. “In fact, I can truthfully say, that we find their attitude refreshing. It gets rather tiresome having to sort out all the petitions and invocations and what-not and try to figure out just what the Eldar want from us. We are not, after all, Ilúvatar; we are but his servants in Eä, and we have far more important things to be doing than listening to every prayer sent our way.”

Valandur gave the Vala an uneasy look, remembering the many times he had invoked the name of one Vala or another to help him as he struggled with his studies. Ulmo seemed to know what he was thinking for he smiled benignly. “Do not be overly concerned, child. I find it rather amusing myself, though some of my brethren do not, yet we love you all in spite of how much you exasperate us, no less, I believe, than your own parents love you in spite of how much you exasperate them at times.” He gave Valandur a wink and the Vanya snorted softly, seeing things in a different light.

“At any rate,” Ulmo continued more briskly, “I brought you here so you may spend a little time observing the Lindar. They are looked upon by you Vanyar and even by many of the Noldor as somewhat uncouth, perhaps even primitive in comparison to the other two clans.”

“Prince Lindarion thinks all Vanyar wander through the forests covering the lower slopes of Taniquetil, eating roots and berries and drinking from streams and sleeping in trees,” Valandur said with a wry grin. “Wherever did they get such ideas?”

“For that, you’ll have to ask the Lindar,” Ulmo replied. “Obviously, being isolated as they are except for minimal trade with the Noldor, they rely solely on rumors of the doings of others.”

“Hmm… those rumors could only have come from the Noldor with whom they interact, for none of the Vanyar trade with the Teleri, at least, I am not aware of any. My impression is that all trade with Alqualondë goes through Tirion with the Noldor acting as middlemen. At any rate, I am thinking that such rumors were started out of anger at our leaving Tirion in the first place. Odd. I never felt that from my own friends, whom I consider my otornor.”

“Then you have your work cut out for you,” Ulmo said. “The time for dispelling such rumors is long overdue. I am sure the Vanyar have their own views about the Lindar that do not coincide with reality. There is a danger in that, and I think I do not need to spell out why.”

“No, I quite see what you mean, lord,” Valandur responded. “Perhaps while I am here I can begin rectifying the presumptions of the Teleri…”

“And you can begin by referring to them with their proper name,” Ulmo interrupted. When Valandur gave him a puzzled look the Vala sighed, shaking his head. “And you call yourself a lambengolmo,” he muttered. “The term Teleri was foisted upon the Third Clan by the Noldor because of their tendency to lag behind on the March and then refusing to leave Tol Eressëa to come all the way into Eldamar. Finwë, I believe, coined the term and it stuck, but the Third Clan refer to themselves as the Lindar. I would caution you not to use the word Teleri when addressing them; they find it insulting, however true it might be.”

Valandur nodded. “Thank you. I had noticed Prince Lindarion referring to the Third Clan as the Lindar but did not have time to ask him about it.”

“And now you know,” Ulmo said, rising. Valandur followed suit. The Vala gave him a warm smile. “Learn all that you can of the Lindar while you are here and speak to Ingwë of it. Tell him from me that we hope he will assert himself more as Ingaran and truly become the High King of the Eldar that he must be if your people are to flourish. There must be greater communication between your respective clans or I think the misunderstandings will only grow worse over time. Now, I will leave you. Do not worry about Ingoldo. I will deal with him.”

With that, Ulmo bent down and embraced Valandur, giving him a kiss in benediction, and then stepped over to the embrasure and calmly walked into the canal, sinking into its dark waters, leaving Valandur staring after him in stunned surprise. It took him a moment to recollect himself and then he was opening the door to find Lindarion still there, giving him a smile. The prince, he noticed, had changed his tunic and was dressed even more elaborately than he’d been when they first met.

“Your audience went well?” he enquired politely. Valandur could only nod. Lindarion did not seem too concerned by his silence. “Good. If you will follow me, I’ll show you to your room so you may freshen up before joining us for a meal.”

Valandur thanked him and followed the prince down the hall. He was grateful for the fact that Lindarion did not press him to tell of his audience with Lord Ulmo, for he needed time to process all that he had learned from the Vala. And, in spite of Lord Ulmo’s assurances, he still wondered just how much trouble he was in with Prince Ingoldo.

****

Vali: Attested alternate plural of Vala.

Kampo: (Qenya) Leaper.

Tatyai: Old plural form for the Second Clan, later known as the Noldor.

Etta: (Qenya) Cousin, in the general sense. Tolkien gives us gender-specific terms: ettanu/ettaréro ‘male cousin’ and ettani/etarressë ‘female cousin’.

Tyenya: Literally, ‘my thou’ = dear kinsman (as a form of address); tye is the second person intimate/personal form reserved for relatives and close friends.

Wilwarin: Butterfly, the constellation we call Cassiopeia.

Celma Lirillo: Lirillo Canal. Celma actually means ‘channel’, from which ‘canal’ is derived. Lirillo is the attested name of a Maia of Ulmo.

Arna Paca: Royal Court.

Gwilindo: (Qenya) Bird, with masculine ending.

Vanyaran: King of the Vanyar.

Teleri: The Hindmost.

Lindar: The Singers.

Notes:

1. According to Tolkien’s Timeline of the Silmarillion, the building of Tirion was completed in the Year of the Trees 1140 and shortly thereafter the Vanyar began to leave, but the process of leaving occurred over a period of twenty-five Valian years or 239.5 solar years (1.66 yéni).

2. The description of Alqualondë is based on that found in The Book of Lost Tales I, ‘The Flight of the Noldoli’.

3. Valandur’s description of how he chose his name is based on the idea that a person would name him- or herself according to personal lámatyávë ‘sound-taste’, i.e. the individual pleasure in the sounds and forms of words.