18: News from the South

The next morning found Valandur in better spirits. He had woken sometime in the night to discover that someone had come into his room and covered him with a blanket. He was still feeling too weary to wonder who it might have been and remained awake just long enough to pull the blanket around his shoulders before slipping back into sleep. When he woke again, it was just before the time of Mingling and he felt refreshed. He took a leisurely bath and dressed slowly, not in any real hurry, donning one of the tunics given him by Olwë’s son before shrugging on his loremaster’s robe.

A bell rang softly somewhere letting people know that breakfast was now available and he made his way to the dining room where he found Intarion, Aldamir, Sorondur, Laurelindalë and Nolondilmë already there. Thankfully, neither Ingoldo nor Tinwetariel were present. Valandur nodded in greeting as he headed for the buffet to fill his plate, ignoring the uncomfortable silence that had settled around them when he came in. He finished making his selections and started to take a seat at the other end of the table from where the others were sitting.

“You needn’t avoid us, Valandur,” Intarion said with a huff of annoyance where he presided at the table’s head. “Come and join us. I don’t fancy yelling and there are some things we should discuss before this morning’s session.”

Reluctantly, Valandur moved up the table, sitting beside Aldamir and facing Laurelindalë who gave him a shy smile. “I would rather eat than talk, if you don’t mind,” Valandur said. “My last meal was sometime yesterday.”

“So eat and I’ll talk,” Intarion said rather imperiously.

Valandur raised an eyebrow at the ellon’s tone but instead of commenting, he slathered butter onto his sticky bun and dug into his shirred eggs.

“First of all, I think we need an understanding between us, all of us,” Intarion said. “My royal cousin was correct about one thing. We should be friends and we should trust one another. I know that some of us wondered at Valandur’s inclusion in this delegation, but I know my uncle well enough to know that the High King does nothing without purpose. If Valandur is here, it is because Ingwë believes his insights and his knowledge are of vital importance. And, of course, we have the testimony of a Maia as to the interest the Valar have in him, and by extension, in each of us. After reflecting on it for most of the last several hours I have come to the conclusion that, in the Valar’s eyes, we are all special and worthy of their attention. I suspect that it was simply because Valandur happened to be visiting the shore with friends that the Valar took advantage of the situation and had him go to Alqualondë. Am I wrong in thinking that, Valandur?”

Valandur shook his head, taking a sip of hawthorn juice before answering. “No. I think you have the right of it. Even so, when you remember that Prince Lindarion was told hours before I ever joined my friends for the picnic to sail to where he would find me, it makes you wonder about the extent of their powers.”

“Undoubtedly,” Intarion said with a nod. “It is a scary thought, but what I am trying to say is that it could’ve been any of us, or none of us, whom the Valar summoned. We are all Vanyar and we should trust one another enough to believe what any of us say about our experiences. My atar and amillë are of the first generation and so they are somewhat set in their ways, but we who are younger should be more open-minded about what is happening.”

“I am glad you place me among the younger generations, Intarion,” Valandur said with a smile, “but I’m not that much younger than your parents, if it comes to that.”

“Perhaps, but you were born, were you not? You did not simply awaken fully grown as my parents did, as my Uncle Ingwë did.”

“That is true,” Valandur acknowledged. “My own parents were also born very shortly after the Awakening. I am actually of the second generation of those born at Cuiviénen.”

“I understand that it was only a few hundred years after the Awakening that the Eldar were discovered by Lord Oromë,” Sorondur said.

“Yes,” Valandur replied with a smile. “In those early days we were unaware of our longevity and being young we had not achieved the wisdom which age and experience gives us, so we were, shall we say, very eager for new experiences.”

“You mean you were breeding like rabbits,” Aldamir said with a wicked grin.

“That too,” Valandur retorted with a laugh and the others snickered.

“Yet, you did not?” Nolondilmë asked.

Valandur shook his head. “I was still an elfling. I reached my majority while making the Great Journey.”

“Well, at any rate,” Intarion said, “I would like all of us to be friends and to support one another to the best of our abilities. I, frankly, would like nothing better than to return to Vanyamar. I find I do not care for Tirion much.”

“That makes two of us,” Laurelindalë said with some feeling, her expression somewhat wistful. “I felt very honored to be chosen for this mission and looked forward to it, but now, with the negotiations at an impasse and everything that’s happened of late, I find myself wishing I were home in my own garden.”

Silence settled around them. Valandur finished the last of his eggs and juice, wondering if he had time for a cup of tea, but then bells rang the hour and he resisted a sigh. “I think it’s time for today’s session,” Intarion said with a rueful grin and stood. Valandur and the others rose as well, following Intarion out the door, leaving their empty plates for the servants to collect.

They made their way through the wing and up the stairs to the next floor where they went down one corridor and crossed over to the east wing which held mostly administrative offices as well as Finwë’s council chamber and, further down, the chamber being used by the delegates. They reached it just as the Noldorin delegation arrived from the opposite direction. Valandur saw Findis and had to force himself to breathe and not look away from her regard. He still felt embarrassed at the way she had defended him before the others. One part of him (a small part, he admitted to himself) wished that she hadn’t, yet another, larger part could only stand back in awe and admiration at her fiery spirit and her fearlessness in standing up to Ingoldo as she had.

Findis, for her part, gave them all a warm smile. “Fair day to you, Cousin,” she said, properly addressing Intarion. “I trust that you and your people are rested and eager to get on with our task.”

“Thank you, Cousin, we are,” Intarion said, giving her a slight bow in greeting.

“But where are Lord Ingoldo and Lady Tinwetariel?” she asked as they entered the room and began taking their seats.

“In truth, Cousin, I do not know,” Intarion admitted. “Neither came to break fast with us nor was any message sent to me letting me know if they would be here or not.”

“Should we wait for them, then, Highness?” Herencáno asked.

“We will give them a few minutes,” Findis replied. “Perhaps they are merely delayed. In the meantime, I would like to talk about that Maia who pretended to be your friend,” she said, looking at Valandur, her eyes bright, her demeanor almost elfling-like in her excitement in wishing to talk about Olórin. “I do not know about any of you, but I just about fainted when he… um… changed. Do they do that often? Pretend to be someone else, I mean? Do you think that when you believe you’re speaking to your best friend or even a complete stranger that it’s really one of them in disguise?” Her bright, inquisitive look darkened a bit at the implications of her own question.

“I doubt it,” Valandur said with a smile. “Or rather, I hope not. Yet, if they do, can we claim any harm from it? I truly believed that it was Calandil who was with us, right up to the last moment when he began doing and saying things that I know Calandil would never do or say, particularly in the presence of certain people.” He paused and gave them a shy look. “To tell you the truth, I was appalled that the Valar felt I needed help to fight my own battles.”

“A battle you were sorely losing, my friend,” Herencáno said with a chuckle. “I do not think even with her Highness’s support, you would have won without a little… er… outside help.”

Valandur nodded, giving them a rueful look. “I suspect you are correct, my lord. Still, it makes me cringe a bit. I would prefer to win or lose my battles on my own, for then the victory or the defeat is truly mine and no one else’s.”

“Defeat, perhaps, but victory is never won single-handedly,” Herencáno said in all seriousness. “If we are wise, we will acknowledge that our victories are won because there are others, allies, who support us and lend us their strength and courage as we fight our battles. If we lose at all it is usually because we prefer to stand alone without allies, believing, falsely, that victory shared with others is no true victory.”

“Yet, do not people share in defeat as well?” Aldamir ventured to ask.

Herencáno shook his head. “No, for most people spend their time blaming others for their defeat instead of acknowledging their own culpability.”

“So, I should be grateful for small favors, is that what you’re saying, my lord?” Valandur asked, giving his new friend (as he thought him) a sly smile.

“Gratitude is always a good choice in any circumstances, Loremaster,” Herencáno replied in a sober tone though his eyes were bright with suppressed amusement.

Before Valandur or anyone else could comment on that the chamber door opened and Valandur was surprised to see Prince Fëanáro standing there.

“Brother!” Findis exclaimed, looking suddenly wary. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?”

Fëanáro did not answer immediately as he looked about. When his gaze fell on Valandur, he seemed to sneer and Valandur forced himself to return the look with a bland one of his own, as if the prince’s presence was of little concern to him. He still cringed mentally at the way the Noldo had treated him earlier. Fëanáro’s only response was a slight lifting of an eyebrow and then he turned his attention back to his sister, his expression more grave.

“Forgive the interruption, Findis, but I thought you should know that word has come from the Southern Fiefdoms that a mountain storm caused considerable damage to many of the farms. Atar is sending people to investigate.” He looked at Intarion. “Your atar plans to go with them to see for himself, for it appears that much of the damage was to crops belonging to Ingwë.”

“Do they know how badly?” Intarion demanded, looking distraught.

Fëanáro shook his head. “The first reports arrived only an hour or so ago and most of them were contradictory, but what we’ve been able to gather is that a powerful wind swept through, knocking down trees and even houses. And apparently there was also lightning which struck some trees causing them to burst into flame, but there was no rain and before people realized what was happening, the fire began to spread. Whole areas are now in flames.”

Valandur felt something like horror rise within him at the prince’s description and he could see that same horror mirrored on the faces of the others.

“Nothing like this has ever happened!” Findis exclaimed. “Why would the Valar allow—”

Fëanáro shrugged. “I do not know, nor do I particularly care. I am merely letting you know what has happened, and now, if you will excuse me, I must be away myself. Atar wishes for me to go to the Fiefdoms and learn what has happened and I still have to pack.” With that he strode away, not bothering to close the door.

They sat in stunned silence for a long moment, each trying to grasp the enormity of what they had been told. Valandur wondered at the storm. In all the yéni in which they had resided here, while there had been storms aplenty sent by the Valar, they had been renewing and life-giving, helping the crops to grow; never had there been any kind of destruction. He had to wonder at that, remembering the sea storm and how parts of Alqualondë had suffered from it. The Teleri appeared to take such damage in their stride, apparently willing to accept the price of living by their beloved Sea with all its wonders and terrors. He suddenly realized that in many ways, the Elves of Eldamar proper, living behind the Pelóri as they did, were coseted and protected like elflings from the natural harms of the world.

He found he did not like that thought much.

Herencáno was the first to stir, giving Findis an enquiring look. “What do you wish to do, Highness? Should we continue with our negotiations or shall we adjourn for now?”

Before Findis could muster a reply, Tinwetariel appeared at the door.

“Ammë!” Intarion exclaimed, rising to go to her. “Have you heard?”

“Of course I have, child,” Tinwetariel said, giving her son a frustrated look. “Where do you think I’ve been all this time? Your atar and I were summoned to Finwë’s study before Second Mingling. We’ve been in conference ever since, trying to sort out all the reports that have been pouring into the city from the Fiefdoms. Now, let us take our seats. Findis, dear, we will go on with the negotiations.”

“Seems rather pointless, doesn’t it?” one of the Noldor asked. “Should we not concern ourselves with what is happening in the Fiefdoms? I have a brother who is a steward on one of the royal estates. I would like to go and see how he and his family are faring.”

“That is, of course, your choice, Alducalmo,” Findis said, “but I think Lady Tinwetariel has the right of it. There is naught any of us can do for or against what has happened and others are already on their way to see for themselves. My main concern is how any damage to crops and destruction of property will affect our negotiations.”

“Most of what is farmed is not traded,” Valandur said. “The Fiefdoms were originally established by the three kings to provide us with necessary grains, vegetables and fruits that could not be grown elsewhere or could not be grown as easily elsewhere. What is produced on the royal estates is then brought to the cities for distribution. Others who prefer farming and husbandry to city life have migrated there and formed villages, working land for themselves while supplying us with wool and meat and other animal byproducts. If most of the damage is to the Vanyarin royal estates, that means that we of Vanyamar will most likely not see a plentiful harvest.”

“You have farms surrounding your city, though, just as we do,” Findis pointed out.

“Yes, and they should help provide us with foodstuffs, but I imagine some items will be scarce for a time.”

“Well, once we’ve learned the extent of the damage, we might be able to negotiate for some of the surplus,” Tinwetariel said. “In the meantime, perhaps we should concentrate our efforts on the shipment of metals. I believe my husband has been insisting on certain points that, quite frankly, I find to be rather unimportant. Findis, perhaps you could reiterate your people’s position on this matter and we will see what we can do about it.”

Findis raised an eyebrow but readily complied with her aunt’s suggestion. “Yes, well… as you know….”

Valandur sat back and listened to Findis outline the Noldorin position with regards to shipping ores from the Pelóri mines to Vanyamar, all the while thinking about Tinwetariel. He had paid little attention to the elleth, believing that she was merely an ornament to the delegation, Ingoldo’s wife and nothing more, but watching her now interacting with Findis, asking shrewd questions and making bold but reasonable suggestions, he realized he had wronged her. Tinwetariel had as sharp a mind as any and apparently, when not in the company of her husband, was willing to use it.

“… that should be fair compensation.” Tinwetariel finished summing up the Vanyarin position, offering her own solution to the sticking points on which Ingoldo had held out.

Valandur was amused at the almost awed look Intarion gave his amillë. Obviously even her son was unaware of her talents.

The Noldor held a brief, whispered conversation among themselves while the Vanyar waited. After a few minutes, Findis addressed them. “I think what you propose will be acceptable to us,” she said. “Of course, anything we decide on here will need to be approved by both kings, but I do not see that to be a problem. Thank you, Aunt, for your contribution. Would that you had been appointed to lead your delegation instead of Uncle, then we would have been done with all of this much sooner.”

“Then I suppose that storm coming up when it did was a good thing,” Tinwetariel said somewhat smugly. “Otherwise, my husband would be here and not on his way to the Fiefdoms and we would still be at an impasse.”

Even Valandur was unsure how to respond to such an outrageous statement. Wisely, no one commented. Findis merely nodded and stood and everyone followed suit.

“Well, we’ve accomplished much today, but I think we can adjourn. I am anxious to learn if any other news has come from the Fiefdoms.”

“So are we all, dear,” Tinwetariel said. “Why don’t you and I go find Finwë or perhaps Indis would be a better source for information and see what we can learn. If most of the damage has been to the Vanyarin royal estates, Ingwë needs to know as soon as possible.”

“He may already know if Maiar were about and witnessed the storm,” Herencáno said. “I am sure they would have reported to Lord Manwë who would certainly have informed the High King.”

“You may be correct, Lord Herencáno,” Tinwetariel acknowledged. “At any rate, let us see what news is at hand.” She looked to Intarion, who offered his arm. Herencáno offered his to Findis and the four exited the room, leaving the others to fend for themselves.

Valandur watched Findis leave with Herencáno, wishing it was he who was escorting her. Then he shook his head in disgust at the turn of his thoughts. Ridiculous! He was just a loremaster, a commoner. He could never hope to be any more than that to her or anyone else.

He nodded to the scribe who handed him a bundle of foolscap, thanking him softly, turning to see Aldamir shuffling other papers. Everyone else had left.

“Well, let’s go get these sorted out,” he said to Aldamir, “and then maybe by then we will have news.”

Aldamir nodded, giving him a grimace. “I hope the damage is not as bad as everyone is saying.”

“It will be what it will be, Aldamir, and we will deal with it as it is and not as we would like it to be.”

Aldamir gave him a considering look. “That sounds rather... uh… not exactly uplifting.”

Valandur grinned. “No, it’s not, nor is it meant to be. It is, however, realistic. One learns to be a realist when one has to contend with one’s limitations as I have had to do. Also, it was a lesson driven home to us who made the Great Journey. Things did not always turn out as we had thought they should.”

Aldamir nodded. “Someday, I would like to hear about it. It sounds exciting.”

“Yes, I suppose for you it would,” Valandur said as the two exited the room. But silently he prayed he would never experience such ‘excitement’ in his life again.