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In the High King's Secret Service  by Fiondil

14: Alqualondë

After he had freshened up and been provided with yet another watersilk tunic to wear that was even more elaborate than the first, Valandur followed Lindarion down the hall and around the corner until they came to a dining hall, which Lindarion assured him was reserved for the royal family.

“There is a feast hall, but we rarely use it just for ourselves,” he said as he ushered Valandur in. “And we don’t stand on too much ceremony, so you needn’t act too formal.”

“Ah… just in time, I see.”

Valandur gave Olwë his obeisance as the King walked over and raised him to his feet. “Now, none of that,” he admonished the Vanya. “It’s bad enough I get that sort of nonsense from everyone else around here, I don’t need it from an honored guest. Now, come meet the family.” With that, he led a bemused Valandur over to where an elleth stood smiling at them. Her hair in the candlelight was nearly white and elaborately braided with strands of pearls and a pearl necklace graced her throat. She wore a gown of sea-green silk that matched Olwë’s own tunic. Flanking her were an ellon and elleth, who were obviously Lindarion’s younger siblings. The ellon looked to be about a yén or two but the elleth was still a few years shy of her majority.

“My love,” Olwë said, “this is Loremaster Valandur of Vanyamar. Loremaster, my beloved, Lirillë.”

Valandur gave her a courtly bow. “Your Majesty.”

“Welcome to Alqualondë, Loremaster,” Lirillë said with a smile. “I trust your audience with Lord Ulmo went well.”

“I suppose,” Valandur answered with a shrug. “I’m still unclear as to why I am here, but Lord Ulmo has given me much to think upon.”

“Loremaster Valandur wishes to converse with our own sages while he is with us,” Olwë explained. “I will arrange a meeting with them for tomorrow and we will have him on his way back to Tirion the next day.”

Valandur tried not to sigh at that. The longer his absence the worse it would be for him, whatever Lord Ulmo said to the contrary. Ingoldo was not going to be pleased with him and neither was anyone else. He wouldn’t be surprised if the prince simply sent him packing. Olwë seemed to sense something of his dismay for he gave him a sympathetic look.

“I am sure that it will all work out to your benefit, child,” he said. “In the meantime, let me introduce you to my other children. This is Falmaron and Olwen.”

Valandur gave them a bow. Falmaron returned it with one of his own and Olwen curtsied. Then Lirillë was directing them to sit, insisting that Valandur take the seat next to her while Lindarion sat beside him. Olwë sat at the other end of the table with Falmaron and Olwen sitting across from Valandur and Lindarion.

“We usually have one or two of our courtiers join us for a meal,” Lirillë said to Valandur even as servants appeared bringing the first course, a fish stew with oysters in their shells floating on top, “but I thought you would appreciate not being too overwhelmed with strangers.”

“Thank you,” Valandur responded as he watched how the others opened the shells and dug out the meat inside. He tried to open one of the shells floating in his own stew but wasn’t having much success. Olwen giggled at his attempt, much to his embarrassment. Both Lirillë and Olwë shot their daughter a disapproving look. Lindarion calmly showed Valandur how to open the shell, never saying a word, which Valandur appreciated. Once he saw how it was done, he had no trouble with the other shells. There was no conversation among them as they concentrated on eating their soup. Valandur found it rather odd but forbore to break the silence. Thus, he was surprised when, upon opening the last of the oyster shells in his bowl and discovering a pearl everyone began exclaiming in delight.

“It’s considered good luck to find a pearl in your soup,” Lindarion explained, taking the pearl out of Valandur’s hand and examining it with a critical eye before handing it to Olwë. “It’s quite lovely and rather unusual.”

“How so?” Valandur asked.

“It’s somewhat larger than usual,” Olwë answered even as he was handing it to Olwen who then passed it to her brother. It finally reached Lirillë, who quickly undid her pearl necklace, holding it up in one hand while she held Valandur’s pearl in the other so he could see that indeed his pearl was a shade larger than those in the necklace. And, whereas they were pure white, his was darker in color, a lustrous bluish-black.

“A black pearl, no less,” Lirillë said. “That’s even better.” She gestured to one of the servants, who accepted the pearl. “We’ll have it cleaned for you,” Lirillë told him, “and you can take it with you when you leave.”

After that, the conversation flowed with the wine as the meal continued and Valandur decided that the silence during the first course was a custom, but whether of the royal family or of the Tel… Lindar, he corrected silently to himself, in general he did not know and did not ask, not wishing to cause offense. The conversation centered primarily on Valandur’s life in Vanyamar and his duties at the Academy where he taught. Olwë was particularly interested in anything Valandur had to say about Ingwë, which was little enough.

“Until I was asked to join the trade delegation, I had never even met the Ingaran or anyone who belonged to his Court,” Valandur admitted. “It surprised me that he even knew who I was or what my field of specialty was.”

“Ingwë has always been a shrewd one,” Olwë replied, “and little gets past him.”

“Lord Ulmo thinks he is not doing enough as High King,” Valandur revealed. “He wishes me to tell him so. I can just imagine how well the Ingaran will take me reprimanding him in Lord Ulmo’s name.”

Several eyebrows went up and Olwë gave him a knowing look. “I am sure you will find a way to tell him tactfully what he needs to hear. You are, after all, a lambengolmo.”

“A very new lambengolmo,” Valandur pointed out, “and totally out of my depth. Ingwë would have been better served if he’d sent one of the older masters, someone who is used to dealing with the nobility.”

“But he chose you,” Lirillë said with a sympathetic smile, “and I know Ingwë well enough to know that he does nothing without due deliberation. If he thought you would serve him better than others who might or might not be more qualified than you, then you should accept that he knows what he’s about.”  

Valandur nodded reluctantly. Then Falmaron asked him what it had been like to cross the wilds of Endórë. “Atto and Ammë don’t like to speak of it that much,” the young ellon stated.

“It is rather difficult to put into words what we experienced,” Valandur said. “When I think back to that time, my overwhelming emotion is wonder bordering on terror.”

All three of the royal children gave him disbelieving looks but both Olwë and Lirillë nodded knowingly.

“Terror?” Lindarion finally asked, looking at his atar.

“You cannot appreciate how very… new everything was for us as we journeyed. Mountains and rivers and even the forests and plains, all were beyond our comprehension at times.” He paused for a moment and chuckled. “I remember several people nearly coming to blows as they argued over how to describe things when we were forced to invent new words for what we were seeing or experiencing.”

“What is your best memory of that journey, Loremaster?” Olwen asked.

“Coming over the Pelóri and beholding the plains of Valinor and the Light of the Trees,” Valandur replied without hesitation. “Reaching Valinor and realizing that I was finally home.”

The three younger members of the family had thoughtful looks on their faces while Olwë and Lirillë merely smiled. After a few moments of silence, Lirillë asked Valandur to describe the city of Tirion, which none of them had ever seen, not even Olwë, and how it differed from Vanyamar and Alqualondë. Thus, for the remainder of the meal, they happily compared notes on the differences and similarities of the three elven cities with Valandur also describing the city of the Valar.

****

Later, Lindarion and Falmaron took Valandur on a short tour of the city, followed by two discrete guards. “We’ll take one of the celmaveni,” Lindarion said. “It’s the best way to see the city.”

Valandur figured the princes would simply order one to be readied for them, so he was mildly surprised when they led him along a street to where two striped poles stood before a landing where some people stood waiting to board one of the small boats that plied the canals. One such came abreast of them and the group before them laughingly boarded, telling the pilot their destination. No one seemed to pay much attention to the ellyn.

“Another boat should be along soon,” Lindarion told Valandur.

“You do not have your own?” Valandur could not help asking.

Lindarion gave him a smile while Falmaron snickered. “The luntequeni are all employees of the Crown. We own the celmaveni.”

“Ah…” was all Valandur could think to say, now feeling embarrassed at his ignorance.

“Here we go,” Lindarion said, raising his hand in a hail to the elleth who brought her boat to the landing. “We are showing our friend the city,” he explained to her even as Falmaron was helping Valandur into the boat, then nimbly climbing in while the two guards joined them. Lindarion was the last in. “So take us on a grand tour, but avoid the harbor. We’ll do that separately.”

“As you wish, my lord,” the elleth said and competently pushed off and began poling.

Valandur clung nervously to the seat, thankful that they had placed him in the middle with the two princes flanking him. One of the guards sat forward of them while the other sat behind them. The boat rocked slightly and Valandur gave an involuntary gasp. Lindarion smiled at him warmly, patting him on the shoulder

“You’re quite safe, Etta,” he said. “Now, look.” He pointed to his right and Valandur saw a wide plaza strung with lanterns and covered with small stalls. “That’s the main market square,” Lindarion continued.

“Do you buy your foodstuff from the Noldor?” Valandur asked. “I wouldn’t think you could farm anywhere around here.”

“Some of our foodstuff is bought from the Noldor,” Lindarion averred, “but we have our own farms in the Southern Fiefdoms which supply us with all that we need.”

Valandur gave him a surprised look. “I cannot imagine any of your people willingly forsaking these shores. You were all so reluctant even to leave Tol Eressëa, never mind joining the rest of us in Eldamar.”

Both princes looked at Valandur in disbelief. “Do you think we are all the same?” Lindarion finally asked. “Even among us there are those who ply trades other than fishing or shipbuilding and those who work on the royal farms do so willingly. There are even some of us who live and work in Eldamas, serving the Vali, or more correctly, serving Lord Ulmo.”

“Sorry. I guess I am as guilty of misperception as any,” Valandur apologized, then gave Lindarion a jaundiced look. “I still cannot believe you thought I spent my time wandering in a forest living on roots and berries and sleeping in trees.”

“You actually said that?” Falmaron asked his brother in surprise.

Lindarion laughed. “You should have seen your face when I did. It was too funny.”

Falmaron snickered and when Lindarion gave him an innocent look he realized he’d been the victim of a jest. “So why did you say such a thing?” he finally asked, feeling confused.

“The Noldor are our friends but even they see us as somewhat uncouth and unsophisticated in comparison to them. None of you Vanyar have ever deigned to visit us…”

“No more than you have deigned to visit us,” Valandur shot back.

Lindarion nodded. “At any rate, I wished to see how you reacted to such an outrageous idea that any self-respecting Elda would do such a thing.”

Now Valandur laughed. “But we did and for far longer than you can imagine. There were no cities in Endórë. We constructed rude huts made of animal skins that could be easily set up and taken down as we journeyed. We had no concept of cities then, it was something that the Valar taught us. We didn’t even have a word for it. In fact, we merely extended the meaning of os, which was our original word for coa, and modified it to osto.”

“So even Atto and Ammë…?” Falmaron shook his head as if to clear it of certain images.

Valandur gave him a sympathetic smile. “We all did and there is no shame in it. Our civilization is courtesy of the Valar, for they taught us much of what we now take for granted. Now, I thought you were giving me a tour, not me giving you a history lesson.”

Both princes chuckled. “You are correct, Etta,” Lindarion said. “So, if you look to your left, you will see one of our Halls of Singing. There is one in each district where the people who live and work there go for entertainment. This one is not the largest but it is the oldest. In fact, it’s even older than the palace, being one of the first buildings constructed. And straight ahead….”

****

They returned to the landing where they had originally boarded the boat and as Falmaron and the guards were helping Valandur out, Lindarion was thanking the elleth, pressing upon her a small coin, which she took with many thanks.

“The luntequeni are paid through the treasury, but it is customary to give them a small gratuity as a thank-you,” Lindarion explained to Valandur as they made their way back to the palace. “Poling these boats is hard work, as you can imagine. Now, I imagine you would like to rest for a time. It’s been quite a busy day for you.”

Valandur started to protest, but then realized that he was feeling fatigued and nodded. “I have lost all count of time,” he admitted. “I do not even know if this is still Valanya.”

“It is not,” Lindarion stated categorically. He pointed upward. “Atar had our loremasters watch the movement of the stars and coordinated them with the waning and waxing of the Light. See you. There is the star Alcarinquë, just cresting the Pelóri, and with its rising it is no longer Valanya but Elenya. Atar will summon his loremasters for you to meet later, once you have rested and eaten.”

Thus, they returned to the palace and the two princes escorted Valandur to the same room where he had changed his clothes earlier, leaving him to his own devices, assuring him that if he needed anything in the meantime, someone would be available to see to his needs. At first, Valandur was feeling too restless to lie down, finding himself pacing in the small sitting room attached to the sleeping quarters.

He thought of what Lord Ulmo had told him and what the Vala hoped Valandur would do, still unconvinced that any would listen to him, even Ingwë. He gazed out the embrasure to the canal and the part of the city that could be seen. He was looking toward the harbor, which Lindarion promised they would look at more closely later on before he left for Tirion. From his room he could see the tall masts of some of the ships and further out the arch of living rock that marked the harbor entrance.

Craning his neck, he looked upward at the stars, noting how Menelmacar ruled the southern sky while northward was the Valacirca. He remembered watching the stars over Cuiviénen and during the Great Journey and how he had thought of them as intimate friends watching over him and he marveled once again at their beauty, a beauty he had forgotten while living in the Light of the Trees. Closing his eyes, he stilled his own thoughts and listened attentively, trying to block out the sounds of the city about him. Faintly, almost imperceptibly, he could hear it: the high, cold song of the stars themselves.

It was a moment or two before he realized that his cheeks were wet with tears and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He yawned just then and decided he should try to get some rest. It had been a long and eventful day. Five minutes later he was undressed and climbing into bed, slipping onto the Path of Dreams where starsong dominated.

****

Valandur woke some hours later to find a hot bath waiting for him and yet another watersilk tunic to wear. Olwen came to escort him to the dining hall where he was greeted warmly by the family.

“Once you have broken your fast, I will introduce you to our loremasters,” Olwë told him. “I have scheduled the meeting for when Laurelin is at full bloom, so there is no rush. Take your time.”

“I wish to show Valandur the harbor afterwards,” Lindarion said then. “We did not get to it yesterday during our tour.”

Olwë nodded. “I see no problem with that. In fact, it saves me a trip, as I wished to check with the harbormaster about the sea storm that is reported heading our way. As long as you are going to be there, you can stop and speak to him for me. I need to ascertain how many ships are still out and when they are due back. The storm is due to strike later today, or so the shipmasters believe.”

“How long will the storm last?” Valandur asked worriedly, wondering if he would even be able to leave the city as planned.

“That is hard to say,” Olwë stated, casting a sympathetic look his way. “I promise, hinya, that I will get you back to Tirion as soon as I can. I already sent a messenger to Finwë explaining your absence, so I would not worry too much about it.”

Valandur resisted a sigh, concentrating on eating. Afterwards, he went with Olwë and Lindarion to meet with the loremasters, who were waiting for them in the library. There were three of them, an elleth and two ellyn. Olwë made the introductions, naming them and their specialties. “They are also lambengolmor and have a particular interest in how our language has changed over time. I confess I have no idea what they are talking about half the time, but perhaps you will have better luck.”

He winked at the three loremasters, all of whom smiled. Valandur sensed that these three were on intimate terms with the King, for their demeanor was open and relaxed in his presence. “If you had paid more attention to your studies, your Majesty, you would know what we are talking about,” one of the ellyn said with a sly look.

“Hah!” Olwë retorted. “I had a difficult enough time figuring out how to read and write without compounding the problem with trying to figure out what you lot were going on about. Now, as much as I would like to stay and chat, I have court to deal with. Lindarion will remain.” He gave them a brief bow and left.

Valandur stared after him, wondering at the revelation of the Lindaran struggling to learn to read and write even as he had. When he heard someone clear his throat, he turned his attention back to the three loremasters. “Did he truly have difficulty in learning to read and write?” he asked without even thinking.

Several eyebrows went up and, realizing what he had said, he started to apologize. “It’s just that I had a difficult time as well and my friends never let me forget it.”

“His Majesty was more interested in other matters, claiming that he had scribes trained in the art of reading and writing and did not need to know how to do so himself,” the elleth said in a diplomatic tone. “We were able to convince him that it was to his best interest to learn, so he could not be taken advantage of.”

It took a moment for Valandur to understand what the elleth was saying, and nodded.

“At any rate, you are here to speak with us and so let us make ourselves comfortable,” she said and soon they were seated in comfortable chairs, sipping on some wine. The Lindar insisted that Valandur tell them about his own studies and for a time they traded stories about their love of lore and their particular interests. Lindarion made his own comments and the respect which the loremasters showed him told Valandur much about this unassuming ellon who was Olwë’s heir.

As they spoke, though, Valandur was often interrupted by one or another of the Lindar to explain a particular turn of phrase or a word with which they were unfamiliar. “I notice you no longer form your plurals as we do and you use words we’ve never heard,” one of them said, “though it is easy enough to determine what you mean from context.”

“Blame it on the Noldor,” Valandur said with a smile. “They are forever inventing new words and new ways of saying them. We Vanyar have perforce adopted most, if not all, such innovations.” He shrugged. “I have to stop and think just how we used to say things when we first came here, especially when confronted with older texts. But I think change is inevitable, even here in the Blessed Realm, though it probably occurs more slowly than in the Outer Lands. Certainly, our language has become more sophisticated over time from the simple words we used to describe things.”

“More simplified, you mean,” the elleth said with a grin.

“And that is not necessarily a bad thing,” Valandur retorted mildly. “I think that’s a natural tendency, especially where spoken language is concerned. We are less deliberate when speaking than when writing and in our haste we drop certain linguistic conventions that are still preserved in the written language. Indeed, I have made a study of the different patterns of speaking and the context in which certain language is used from the very formal language of, say, the royal court to the very informal language of the markets.”

The other loremasters nodded and they shared some of their own observations about the phenomenon and they spent a pleasant hour or so comparing notes before Lindarion declared that he needed to attend to some business for the King and the meeting broke up with promises on both sides to keep in touch with letters. “For we should continue sharing our knowledge and observations between us,” Valandur said and to that they all agreed.

After the loremasters left, Lindarion led the way to the harbor where they found much activity for most of the fishing fleet was back earlier than was their wont and a hasty conference with the harbormaster and a few of the captains told them that at least three ships were still out on the Sea, but only one was still in the vicinity of the storm; the other two were north.

“But they need to come in very soon or they may have difficulty reaching the city if the storm engulfs us as it is likely to,” said the most senior of the captains.

“Can we send word to them?” Lindarion asked.

The captain nodded. “Already it has been sent, Highness. I spoke with the Lady myself for we met her on the way in. It was she who warned me that there were still ships plying the waves.”

Lindarion nodded. “When next you speak with her, you must thank her on my atar’s behalf,” he said matter-of-factly and the captain nodded.

As they were speaking, Valandur realized that the Lady had to be Lady Uinen and suppressed a shudder. Only twice had he ever spoken with any of the Maiar and he knew no one personally who spoke to any of them on a regular basis. Apparently Lord Ulmo’s People were less reticent in their dealings with the Elves of Alqualondë.

“How strong is the storm and how long will it last?” Lindarion next asked. The captains all opined that the storm was fairly strong and could damage the coast to some extent if it made landfall but none could confidently predict how long it would last. “Then we will need to alert those living in the outlying districts so they may prepare for the worse even as we hope for the best,” Lindarion continued and Valandur watched as plans were made and orders given and he realized that this was not the first such storm these people had endured. There was no sense of panic, only a sense of purpose. The harbormaster, who apparently had the ultimate authority, ordered a particular bell be rung.

“It is the warning bell and the number of times it is rung alerts us to a particular danger,” Lindarion explained to Valandur as they were leaving the harbor. “Listen! He is ringing it twelve times. That means a sea storm. If it were a fire, it would be rung only six times.”

“How much danger are we in?” Valandur asked.

“The wall that surrounds us has protected us for the most part. The greatest danger lies at the arch where the harbor meets the Sea. The storm could cause waves to swamp us, though it has only happened once in all the time we have lived here. I would not concern myself too much, my friend. We are safe enough, I assure you. We built this city with these sea storms in mind.”

Valandur nodded in understanding, though he was still not sanguine about remaining in Alqualondë during the storm. “Is there no way for me to leave now before the storm hits?”

Lindarion cast him a sympathetic look. “No ships are allowed to leave the harbor once the warning bell has been rung and there is no way for you to travel on land except afoot and you would find no shelter along the way when the storm hits. I know you are frustrated and I regret that we cannot return you to Tirion as we promised, but I assure you that all will be well. Now, put such worries aside. With the ringing of the warning bell, there will be a meeting of the magistrates who are in charge of overseeing the various districts and I must attend. You are welcome to join me or you may amuse yourself as you please.”

“I will join you,” Valandur said. “I am interested in seeing how your people handle this situation and I fear left to my own devices I will only just wear a hole in the floor with my pacing.”

Lindarion chuckled. “Then I welcome your company. The meeting will take place at the Hall of Singing.”

“Not at the palace?”

Lindarion shook his head. “The Hall of Singing has always been the traditional place where such meetings take place simply because it was the first building completed even before the palace and we Lindar are nothing if not traditional.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Valandur shot back with a sly grin.

Lindarion laughed, clapping Valandur on the shoulder. Then he pointed to a set of striped poles. “Here, we’ll take a canal boat. It’ll be faster than walking.” And a few minutes later Valandur once again found himself sitting in a boat but this time there were other passengers besides him and Lindarion and the time was spent as they traveled down the canal with the prince trading news with the other passengers, all of them speaking calmly about the coming storm.

****

Celmaveni: Plural of celmavenë: Small canal boat [celma ‘channel’ + venë ‘small boat, vessel, dish’].

Luntequeni: Plural of luntequen: Boatman; cf. the attested ciryaquen ‘sailor, shipman’.

Os: (Qenya) Cottage, house. Coa (Quenya) has the same meaning.

Osto: City, walled town.

Alcarinquë: ‘The Glorious’, Jupiter.

Valacirca: ‘Sickle of the Valar’, Ursa Major.





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