17: Repercussions of an Unexpected Kind

Herencáno’s townhouse was situated several streets from the palace, on the north side of Túna, surrounded by similar townhouses belonging to the nobility. It was a narrow, three-storied affair of white stone and mullioned windows on the ground floor.

“It’s not very grand,” Herencáno said almost apologetically as they climbed the front steps to the oak door, “but it serves our purpose. We have an estate off the East Road as well.” They entered a narrow hallway with stairs leading up to the next floor. Doors opened on either side revealing a comfortable drawing room to the left and what appeared to be a library on the right. The hall floor was beautifully tiled in shades of green and blue and the walls were painted white with a dark oak wainscot. Coming down the hall from the back was an elleth with the typical features of the Noldor. Herencáno’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Ah, my dear, I brought a guest for luncheon. I hope you don’t mind. This is Loremaster Valandur of Vanyamar. Valandur, this is my wife and the light of my life, Telperiën.”

Valandur gave the elleth a bow. “Be welcome, my lord,” she said, her voice a pleasing alto. “Why don’t you show the loremaster where he can freshen up while I have another place set. We’re eating in the garden.”

“Excellent!” Herencáno exclaimed. “Come, my friend.” He led Valandur up the stairs to the next floor where he showed him to a bathing room, pointing out the privy at the end of the hall. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said. “Just make your way down the hall.” With that he left him and a few minutes later Valandur was joining Herencáno and Telperiën in the back garden for lunch.

The meal was simple, yet excellently done: cold cherry soup followed by a capon cooked in lemon and rosemary and a sallet, with gingerbread and almond biscuits as an after, all washed down with a bottle of Tirion White. Their conversation was limited to gossip between Herencáno and Telperiën on the doings of their neighbors and discussing their upcoming trip to Valmar. Valandur contributed little to the conversation, content to listen, being reminded of the conversations his own parents often had as they sat down for a meal. He did describe his impressions of Valmar, though.

“It is not like either Vanyamar or Tirion. One looks upon the buildings and one realizes that they were not built with any of us Eldar in mind; they were built for the pleasure of the Valar and the Maiar. I would like to have stayed longer for there is always something new to see, either in Valmar proper or in Eldamas,” he admitted, “but we were expected here and could not linger.”

“Perhaps before you return to Vanyamar you’ll be able to stay in Valmar for a few days,” Telperiën suggested.

Valandur simply nodded, not being able to say one way or the other. Then the meal was over and Herencáno excused himself and Valandur, leading the Vanya inside to the library, a tall room lined with shelves filled with books and scrolls. Herencáno gestured at a large oak table that sat in the middle of the room even as he closed the door behind them. “We can work here undisturbed,” he said and in minutes they were seated across from one another working through the notes. Herencáno clucked in dismay at the scribbles, trying to decipher the handwriting. “Some of these scribes should be doing other work that does not involve writing anything,” he commented at one point and Valandur chuckled in agreement.

It did not take them long to complete the transcriptions, though, with the session having been cut short, and Valandur found himself leaning back in his chair and relaxing with some wine that Herencáno had offered him once they were done. For a time they sat in companionable silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Valandur wondered how much trouble he was in for leaving the palace. Something in his expression must have alerted Herencáno, for the ellon gave him a shrewd look.

“I know you are concerned about Prince Ingoldo’s reaction to you leaving the palace, but there is no need. The princess will see to that.”

“How?”

“We’ll have to see, won’t we?” Herencáno replied with an indifferent shrug. “Now, why don’t we head back to the palace with these transcriptions so as not to overstrain Ingoldo’s patience. I do wish Ingwë had chosen another to head your delegation. Ingoldo is being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. If he would just bend a little, most of our differences could be resolved to everyone’s satisfaction.”

Valandur had no comment to that. He had paid little attention to that day’s session, lost as he had been in his own misery and said as much. Herencáno nodded in understanding but did not otherwise comment. Instead, he stood, grabbing the sheaves of foolscap they had used for the transcription, and headed for the door with Valandur following. They were met by Telperiën who insisted that the loremaster come again for a longer visit. “A visit that does not involve work,” she said at the end, giving her husband a knowing smile which he returned with one of his own. Valandur bowed, thanking her for her invitation.

The return trip was done in silence and the two ellyn were entering the plaza fronting the palace when they spied Findis and Intarion riding in through a different gate. The four greeted each other as Findis and Intarion dismounted while grooms came to lead the horses away. Findis smiled at them, but Intarion frowned.

“I thought my atar forbade you to leave the palace grounds?” he said to Valandur.

“And are you going to tell him?” Findis demanded, giving him a hard stare.

Intarion blushed slightly under her regard, but did not back down. “I suspect he already knows,” he shot back, then turned to Valandur. “I do not understand why you continue defying my atar. It is almost as if you desire to be punished.”

“He should not be punished at all, my lord,” Herencáno said. “Loremaster Valandur is not an elfling needing correction. He did not purposely defy Prince Ingoldo. I insisted he join me and my wife for a meal and afterward I helped him with the transcription of the day’s session.” He held out the sheaves of paper he’d been carrying. “I tell you quite honestly that I find the scribes who have been commissioned to record our sessions to have terrible penmanship and should be remanded to their guild for further study. If it weren’t for the fact that I was actually there and heard every word I doubt I would’ve been able to figure out just what had been said based on the notes given us.”

“And what has that to do with the fact that Valandur left the palace grounds without permission?” Intarion asked.

“Permission that would never have been granted no matter that it was asked by one of the highest nobles of my atar’s court,” Findis chimed in, giving Intarion a glare. “Now, I suggest we take this inside and away from so public a venue. Come, Cousin. Lend me your arm.”

She held out her hand for Intarion and with a great show of reluctance, he extended his elbow. She put her hand lightly upon it as they entered the palace with Valandur and Herencáno right behind, the Noldo giving Valandur a wink, which did not exactly mollify him but he nodded anyway.

They made their way toward the north wing where they encountered Ingoldo coming out of the common room for that floor. Upon seeing them, his expression turned to one of fury and before anyone could react, he was in their midst, grabbing Valandur by the placket of his tunic and hauling him into the room he had just exited where the other Vanyar were congregated, ignoring the cries of protest from Findis, Herencáno and Intarion. Ingoldo shoved Valandur hard against a sturdy gaming table, forcing an involuntary gasp of pain from him as his lower back hit its edge.

“You dare to defy me, seldo?” Ingoldo yelled, slamming Valandur against the table again, practically forcing him to lean back.

“Atar, please!” Intarion pleaded.

“Uncle Ingoldo, for the love of the Valar, stop!” Findis demanded.

“Stay out of this, all of you!” Ingoldo shouted. “This is between me and this recalcitrant ellon.”

“Ingoldo, enough!”

Valandur looked up to see Calandil standing at the door and wondered how the ellon had gotten there. Ingoldo turned with a snarl. “And you! I left orders that you weren’t to be permitted inside the palace. You have no business here. Begone!”

Calandil laughed and Valandur felt a thrill of fear or awe sweep through him, for he had never heard his friend laugh quite that way before. “Oh, you don’t get rid of me that easily,” Calandil said with a smile. “Now let Valandur up. Tinwetariel, take your husband in hand. He’s being rather naughty.”

Everyone just gaped at the ellon who calmly entered the room. He gently, but firmly pushed an unprotesting Ingoldo from Valandur and into Tinwetariel’s arms, who led her husband to a settee while Calandil helped Valandur to straighten, the loremaster grimacing at the bruised feeling of his back where the edge of the table had dug in. Valandur stared at his friend, who smiled knowingly at him.

“You’re not Calandil, are you?” he finally whispered fearfully.

Calandil continued smiling as he helped Valandur to a chair. “And what makes you think I am not, my friend?”

“For one thing, you’re too… too… not like Calandil to be Calandil, though you bear his face and speak with his voice.”

“And the other?” Calandil asked. “You said ‘for one thing’, which presupposes that there must at least be a second thing,” he said by way of explanation when Valandur just gave him a blank look.

“Oh, I guess I just meant that you’re not acting like the Calandil I know. You’re too… too authoritative or something,” Valandur explained, looking apologetic. “So, who are you?”

“Yes, that is what I would like to know,” Ingoldo said angrily. “Who are you?”

“Someone who is looking after Valandur’s interests, which none of you who claim to be his friends seem capable of doing.”

“You forget yourself, Noldo,” Intarion said, bristling. Aldamir, Sorondur, Laurelindalë and Nolondilmë all looked abject.

“Nay. It is you who forgets himself,” Calandil shot back. “Prince you may be, but not of Tirion, and neither is your atar. His mandate does not give him leave to forbid anything where the Noldor are concerned.”

“But it does where members of my delegation are concerned,” Ingoldo retorted. “I have the right to dictate to them and that includes your precious loremaster.”

“Not my precious loremaster, I assure you,” Calandil, whom everyone was beginning to understand was not Calandil, said with a laugh. “My masters, however, have a proprietary interest in Valandur’s well-being.”

“Your masters?” Ingoldo demanded. “And just who are your masters, Noldo?”

“No Noldo am I, nor even an Elda,” Calandil said and then before their wondering eyes, his features began to shift and standing before them was a shining Maia wearing a pure white ankle-length tunic and a sky-blue surcoat with the Eagle emblem of the Elder King embroidered upon it. Everyone gasped in surprise. Those who had been sitting were on their feet. No one spoke. Intarion actually took a step or two back. Valandur could only stand there staring at the Being before them.

“No, you’re definitely not Calandil,” he said faintly.

The Maia laughed and it was so joyous that everyone, even Ingoldo, relaxed and there were faint smiles on more than one face. “Nay. I am not Calandil, though I hope you will forgive me for taking your friend’s image in vain. I am Olórin of the People of Manwë, sent at my Lord’s behest on behalf of Lord Ulmo to insure that you were not unduly punished for what is not your fault. My Lords Manwë and Ulmo feared that Prince Ingoldo would be… reluctant to believe your story and sent me to see to it that the truth be known to all. My Lords had hoped that, even if Ingoldo did not believe you, others would and that they would stand by you. Sadly, whether because they did not believe you or out of fear for themselves, those whom you deemed your friends failed you. Thus, I am here.”

“But… why the guise of my otorno?” Valandur asked. “Why the charade?”

“I wished to see how everyone would react before deciding on a course of action. I had hoped that I would not have to reveal myself to any of you, but circumstances have forced my hand.”

“And Calandil?” Valandur demanded.

“Oh, have no fear for him, my friend,” the Maia assured him. “Calandil does not even know you have returned as yet. None of your Noldorin friends do, for no one thought to inform them.” Here he looked directly at Aldamir, who blushed, looking away and refusing to offer an apology or an explanation.

“And I did not because I thought you were Calandil and would naturally tell the others,” Valandur said with a nod. “So, now what?”

“Nothing,” came the surprising answer. “My task is finished. I was told to make sure that you were believed and I am here to tell all of you that everything that Valandur has said about his journey to Alqualondë and his meeting with Lord Ulmo and the delay in returning due to the sea storm is true. And you, Ingoldo of the Vanyar, are wrong to censure him as you have, treating him as a servant rather than as your equal.”

“He will never be my equal,” Ingoldo snarled. “He is nothing and no one, just someone my dear brother foisted on me for reasons of his own, reasons I find specious. I have no doubt this one was set upon us to act as Ingwë’s spy.”

“And in that you are wrong,” Olórin stated categorically. “Valandur is just who and what he claims to be: a loremaster who specializes in the way in which the Three Clans have evolved and drifted apart, both culturally and linguistically, and how that may affect future relationships between you. At any rate, regardless of your personal feelings about the matter, my masters wish to impress upon you, upon all of you, that they are not pleased with how you have treated one of your own. Such behavior is unbecoming of any of the Eldar, you who are blessed by the One to be called His Children.”

He looked upon them all with benevolence, holding them with his eyes, though only Findis, Herencáno and Valandur could long endure his glance; the others found themselves looking away almost at once.

“Well, I have said what I have come to say and will leave you,” the Maia said when he released them from his regard. “Keep this thought in mind, my children: the Valar do not appreciate being called liars and they will call upon any whom they wish for reasons that are best known to them. Nor do they need to apologize or seek your permission to do so. Remember that for next time. I do not wish to have to come back to remind you again.” He gave them a significant look and then he was simply not there, leaving behind the mingled scents of ëarrossë and asëa aranion.

For several long moments, silence hung in the air with the floral scent as everyone just stood there staring at the space where the Maia had been. Findis was the first to speak, her voice cold and there was a fire in her eyes that reminded everyone of her atar. “When I learned the truth of what happened I was appalled that you Vanyar who actually live at the feet of the Valar disbelieved Valandur. Actually, that’s not entirely true,” she amended. “I was unsurprised at Uncle Ingoldo’s reaction, but I was dismayed at yours.” She raked her gaze upon the four younger members of the delegation, all of whom looked suitably chastened. “And yours,” she added, glaring at Intarion, who bristled slightly but did not contradict her. “That you would punish someone by humiliating them as you have, relegating an honored member of your delegation to the status of a servant, is appalling. Others may ignore it or even applaud it, but I will not condone it. The next time we meet in session I expect to see Loremaster Valandur sitting at the negotiating table,” she concluded, stressing Valandur’s title.

With that, she turned away, obviously dismissing them all from her mind. “Come along, Herencáno. You may escort me back to my apartments.”

“I am yours to command, Highness,” Herencáno said, thrusting the sheaves of paper still in his hands at Ingoldo who was just surprised enough to take them without protest. Herencáno gave Valandur a warm smile. “I will see you later, my friend,” he said and then offered his elbow to the princess, the two of them exiting without another word to anyone.

Ingoldo threw the papers onto the gaming table with a snarled oath, and taking his wife’s hand, stalked out of the room, leaving Valandur alone with Intarion and the four other members of their delegation all staring at one another in uneasy silence. Valandur wasn’t sure what he was feeling. On the one hand he was grateful that the Elder King and Lord Ulmo had been looking out for him, but on the other, he was embarrassed by the manner in which they had done so, sending a Maia in disguise as his close friend. He would have preferred to have fought his own battles without the aid of the Powers. This smacked too much of a parent reprimanding elflings ‘to play nice or not at all’ and he would not be surprised if there was resentment on the part of others for such highhandedness on the part of the Valar.

It was Intarion who finally broke the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them. He gave Valandur a rueful look. “That’s the second dressing down today,” he said. When Valandur just gave him a puzzled look the prince smiled more genuinely. “My cousin spent the entire time we were riding telling me what she thought about me. It was not pleasant hearing.”

“I am sorry,” Valandur said sincerely.

Intarion held up a hand to forestall anything else he wished to say. “No. It is I who am sorry, sorry for treating you as I did, for not giving you the benefit of the doubt. Quite frankly, I did not know what to think when Master Minalcar showed up with your ring, explaining what had happened. It seemed too… fantastic and my first unworthy thought was ‘what makes him so special to be summoned by one of the Valar?’” He sighed, looking more chagrined.

Valandur had to smile. “That was my thought as well,” he admitted. “I could not imagine why any of the Powers would deign to notice my existence, never mind speak with me face-to-face.” He shrugged. “I do not really blame any of you for being skeptical about what happened, but I had hoped that you would have given me the benefit of a doubt and would have stood by me, even if all you could do was to commiserate with me. I would not have expected any of you to have spoken up against Prince Ingoldo’s decisions, but it hurt that not one of you who I thought were my friends let me know that you believed me.”

All of a sudden, he felt a great weariness descend upon him and he found he was not interested in listening to their apologies or explanations. Without giving them a chance to speak, he left and returned to his own room where he lay upon the bed fully clothed, wondering what would happen now. How would Ingoldo treat him after this? How would the others? He sighed, thinking he needed to contact Calandil — the real Calandil, he thought with sour amusement — but he could not find the energy to get up and send a message.

Later, he thought. I’ll do it later. And with that, he found himself drifting off. His last thoughts were of being home and sitting down for a meal with his parents and sisters. Yet, when he slipped upon the Path of Dreams, he found himself sitting in a boat that floated on a canal under starlight while all around him he heard singing though there was no one in sight.

****

Seldo: Boy, used pejoratively.

Eärrossë: ‘Dew of the Sea’, i.e. Rosemary.

Asëa Aranion: Athelas, kingsfoil.