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In the High King's Secret Service  by Fiondil

19: The Southern Fiefdoms

Valandur and Aldamir were finishing up with their duties and looking forward to some lunch when Sorondur came to them. Aldamir was in fact drawing up a rough draft of the trade agreement, basing it on what had been agreed upon earlier while Valandur went through their notes to ensure that the other ellon had all the particulars correct. Both looked up when Sorondur came in, looking anxious.

“The king has summoned us,” the ellon said without preamble. “We are to come at once. I’ve already spoken to the ellith.”

Aldamir nodded, carefully cleaning his quill and capping the ink, while Valandur gathered all the papers and placed them in a cupboard for safekeeping.

“Do you think Finwë has news for us about what is happening?” Aldamir asked.

“I am assuming so,” Sorondur replied with a shrug. “He would not bother summoning all of us otherwise. Ah, there are the ellith.”

Laurelindalë and Nolondilmë were exiting their suite and stopped to let them catch up. Without another word they traversed the halls. Sorondur apparently knew where they were going, for he led them without hesitation across the main foyer and into the west wing and soon they were standing before a set of doors with two guards, one of whom opened the door for them without challenging them and Valandur found himself entering a small audience chamber. Finwë was sitting on a throne, less ornate than the one that graced the main throne room and above it was a stained glass window depicting the Two Trees, filtering green and golden light throughout the room.

The chamber was somewhat crowded with courtiers and they could see Intarion and Tinwetariel among them, speaking with Herencáno and Findis. Valandur could not help noticing how haggard everyone looked. As soon as they entered, Finwë called Tinwetariel to him. She stood before the throne with Intarion by her side. Valandur and the other Vanyar crowded around.

“We have been receiving reports from the Southern Fiefdoms,” Finwë said without preamble. “The latest seems to suggest that the fire is spreading and endangering the Forests of Lord Oromë.”

“It’s spreading southward, then?” Tinwetariel asked.

“And west,” Finwë replied. “I know that most of Ingwë’s farms are closer to the Forests than my own. I do not know if any of them can be saved. What I do know is that if the fire is not contained more farms will be lost and perhaps even the Forests. I am sending every able-bodied ellon and not a few ellith to help fight the fire. Your people are welcome to join with mine if they so desire.”

“Have you heard from my husband?” Tinwetariel asked.

Finwë shook his head. “Not directly. My son sent a messenger back as soon as he saw how dangerous the situation is, to let me know that they will need more help than they have to contain the fire.”

“Why are the Valar not doing anything about it?” Findis exclaimed. “Surely they must know what is happening? Why do they not help us?”

Valandur gave her a sympathetic look, recognizing in her outburst the cry of a bewildered child, and he suddenly realized just how young she truly was. Without thinking he spoke before Finwë could answer her.

“When I was in Alqualondë there was a sea storm and the city sustained considerable damage afterwards. None of the Teleri asked why Lord Ulmo had not sent the storm elsewhere or even why he allowed the storm to exist at all. They simply made what preparations they could to mitigate the damage and then went about calmly cleaning up afterwards. Perhaps the Valar are waiting to see what we do about the crisis before they step in. I doubt Lord Oromë will allow his Forests to burn.”

Tinwetariel gave him an irritated look, but Finwë actually nodded. “Yes, I suspect you are correct, Loremaster,” he said. “At any rate, I’ve sent a message to Ingwë informing him as to what is happening. I expect to hear from him soon.”

“I fear whatever message he sends you will arrive too late to do us any good, Brother,” Tinwetariel said.

Finwë smiled thinly. “And normally you would be correct, Sister, but I called upon my right as king and was able to importune a passing Maia to relay my message.”

More than one person raised an eyebrow at that statement. Valandur hid a smile, wondering if that Maia had been the one who had impersonated Calandil. At the thought of his otorno, he realized he had yet to contact him and let him know that he was back in Tirion. He silently castigated himself for being so lax in his duty toward his friends. And Minalcar must be contacted as well. He resisted a sigh as he listened to the discussion around him, making his own plans. He would volunteer to go to the Fiefdoms and help.

He recalled an incident during the Great Journey when they had witnessed a conflagration. As in this case, it had begun with a lightning strike and soon an entire forest was enflamed. The Elves had not been in any danger themselves, Lord Oromë had assured them, but Valandur never forgot the terror he had felt as he watched those flames hungrily consume the forest and even from a distance he could hear the screams of the trees.

“… leave at First Mingling.”

Valandur blinked, realizing that he had let his thoughts wander and had not been paying strict attention to what was being said around him. Finwë was standing and Valandur joined the others in stepping back and giving the Noldóran their obeisance as the king exited the chamber, along with Findis and Tinwetariel. Intarion motioned for the Vanyar to remain behind while the Noldorin courtiers filed out after the king.

“If you wish to join with the others, you have my permission,” Intarion said to them. “I will be going as well, but my amillë will remain here. I would caution you ellith to think carefully about going. It will be extremely dangerous and, for myself, I would not wish my amillë to be without the company of other ellith.”

“But you do not forbid us from going,” Laurelindalë said.

“No. I do not have that right, even if by default, I have the power. The decision is yours, is all of yours. Do not think that you have to come if your heart bids you stay. With so many of the courtiers leaving as well, Finwë will be running his kingdom with little help. I know ammë will do what she can but still….”

He left the rest unspoken, for they understood. “At any rate,” he continued after a short pause, “be in the plaza an hour before the next First Mingling if you decide to go. If you ellith wish to join us, I would recommend that you borrow some leggings and tunics from us. Your gowns will never do.” He gave them a nod of dismissal and Valandur left with the others, already formulating his own plans.

The first thing he did was to send off messages to Calandil and Minalcar, telling them what had happened and where he was going. He suspected that some of his friends would be joining those heading to the Fiefdoms and suggested that they meet at a particular spot in the plaza. With that done, he began packing, choosing the oldest of his tunics to wear and putting away his loremaster’s robe. He then joined the others in the dining hall, for Intarion had ordered a meal before they left. All the others were there. Laurelindalë looked somewhat embarrassed dressed as an ellon, the sleeves of the tunic rolled up and the hem nearly to her knees. Her hair had been braided simply with bits of ribbon rather than with gemstones and a colorful kerchief covered her head. Valandur gave her a bright smile and a nod of approval. Nolondilmë was still dressed in her gown and she explained that she had decided to remain behind to keep Tinwetariel company.

The meal was eaten quickly and in silence and soon they were making their way to the plaza, joining with others. Valandur excused himself from their group. “I made arrangements to meet with some friends who might be going with us,” he explained. “I will catch up with you later.”

“We’ll be over here by this pillar,” Intarion said, pointing to his left and Valandur nodded, making his way through the crowd toward the main fountain which graced the center of the plaza.

He did not have to wait long before he saw Calandil coming toward him, along with Aldarion, Simpandil, Ferenion, Cemendur and Amandil. With them were Minalcar, his son and grandson. All of them were carrying rucksacks and several waterskins.

“Welcome back!” Calandil called out with a smile, and several moments were spent in greetings while Valandur quickly explained what had happened to him in Alqualondë as they wended their way through the milling crowd to where Intarion and the other Vanyar were waiting for them. Introductions were quickly made as they waited for the signal to depart.

People were still streaming into the plaza from all directions, most of them carrying rucksacks, some of them lugging shovels or pick-axes. Valandur was surprised to see entire families gathering, though thankfully there were no very young elflings among them, just older ones who were close to their majority, looking excited and scared at the same time. There was almost a festive air to it all as friends and neighbors greeted one another, but the reason for their gathering cast a pall over them and voices were muted.

A horn sounded and the plaza went completely silent. All looked to see a cavalcade enter the plaza from the royal stables and Valandur was surprised to see Finwë at the head of it. He was dressed in a hunting tunic and he wore no crown, his hair braided into a single queue as most of the other ellyn had theirs. Beside him rode Findis, dressed for riding. Like Laurelindalë and many of the other ellith who were going, she was dressed in a tunic and leggings, her hair braided simply with ribbons, but instead of a kerchief, her head was covered with a wide-brimmed hat in which was stuck a beautiful peacock’s feather.

Finwë ignored the crowd, glancing up at the balcony overlooking the plaza and nodding once to whoever was there. Where Valandur was standing, he could not see and assumed that the queen was there to see them off, so he was surprised when one of Finwë’s heralds called out.

“Hear ye! His Majesty has decreed that any who wish to join him to the Fiefdoms to help battle the fire be organized into companies under the command of one of the nobles who will accompany the king. If you reside between the fish market and Rose Square you will follow Lord Rialcar. If you reside south of Rose Square and east of…”

The herald continued to quarter the city and as each lord’s name was mentioned that worthy rode forth accompanied by a retainer bearing his personal banner and there was a great deal of jostling as people attempted to join whichever lord had been designated. It took more than an hour and First Mingling was well over before the only ones left were the Vanyar and Valandur’s friends, as well as those from the palace who would be accompanying the king.

“Come on,” Intarion said to them.

They made their way across the near empty plaza to where they saw Herencáno, standing beside Finwë’s horse, the king apparently giving him some last-minute instructions.

“… know you would rather come with me, my friend, but I need someone here whom I trust. I will not be long but I need to see first-hand what the situation is.”

“I am yours to command, my liege,” Herencáno said with a bow. “Go and know that I will make sure Indis doesn’t move the palace in your absence.”

Finwë laughed. “And she would, too, if given half the chance.” He cast a merry look at Findis who smirked.

“I’ll see that more wagons are sent along as well,” Herencáno continued. “You’ll need more provisions than you’ve sent ahead, I deem.”

Finwë nodded. “Yes. See if you can scare up more shovels and buckets and as many water barrels as possible. The cooks of the royal kitchen are working hard to bake more coimas and other travel food to send along as well.”

“I’ll see to it, Sire,” Herencáno said simply. “Go with the blessings of the Valar.”

Finwë reached down and the two clasped hands in farewell. Then the king straightened and seemed to notice the Vanyar standing with the other palace functionaries who were waiting for him to set out.

“You do not ride, Lord Intarion?” he asked.

“We prefer to walk, Majesty,” Intarion answered with a bow. “Once there, horses will be of little use, I deem, for I do not think you will be able to bring any horse too near the fire.”

“True,” Finwë averred. “We ride only because We do not intend to stay, for We will be needed here regardless of what is happening elsewhere, and We desire to be able to return quickly.”

“Then the sooner you are off, Finwë, the sooner you can return and relieve me of my burden of keeping Indis in line,” Herencáno said with a grin.

“Ha!” Finwë retorted, smiling back. Then he nodded to his standard bearer who set off and the king and his entourage followed. Herencáno pulled Valandur to one side while the others went on, giving him a sober look.

“What is it, Herencáno?” he asked.

“Keep an eye on the princess,” Herencáno said softly.

“And why should I be her minder?” Valandur couldn’t help countering, wondering what the Noldo was about.

“I didn’t say to be her minder, I said to keep an eye on her.” Herencáno huffed in frustration. “I know Findis, better than you. She’s rather impulsive and Finwë will have his hands full dealing with the crisis without having to deal with his daughter. I can tell you that Finwë was less than pleased when she announced that she was coming with him and their argument was long and loud. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it from the north wing. Anyway, I know you and she are friends and she respects you, as she respects few others. She’ll listen to you before she listens even to her atar. Keep her safe, Val, for all our sakes.”

Valandur nodded, touched by Herencáno’s concern for Findis and his faith in him. “I will do my best.”

“Nai iValar aselyë,” Herencáno intoned, giving him a brief bow.

Valandur returned the bow and then hurried to catch up with the others who were already on the street that led to the south gate. His friends gave him quizzical looks. “What was that about?” Calandil asked.

“Just some last minute advice from a friend,” Valandur replied and thankfully no one importuned him with any other questions. In minutes they were past the gates and heading south. Valandur could see the royal cavalcade well ahead of their company and wondered just how he was supposed to carry out Herencáno’s instructions.

They walked under the soft light of Telperion and Valandur took an interest in his surroundings, admiring the lush fields of grain and the neat orchards that marked the estates of the nobles, though he knew that most such estates were to the north and west. Soon, the last estate was passed. One of the palace gardeners named Cememmírë, walking with them, pointed to a narrow track to their left.

“That leads to the granaries,” she said. “They were only half full last I heard. If this storm and fire has destroyed most of the grain…”

She left the implication unspoken, looking troubled. No one had any words of comfort for her. As they continued on, Calandil spoke to Valandur. “You did not finish your tale about your adventures in Alqualondë or why you did not contact any of your friends when you returned.”

Valandur sighed and proceeded to explain how he was delayed by the sea storm in returning to Tirion. “And when we reached the quay, you and Intarion were there to meet me,” he said to Calandil.

“But I was never there!” the ellon exclaimed in surprise.

“No, I agree. You were never there. In point of fact, it was a Maia who disguised himself with your features, making us all believe that it was you.”

“A Maia?” Calandil gave him a disbelieving look and his other friends were equally nonplused.

Valandur nodded. “Yes. He was very good. I was completely fooled right up to the end when he began saying and doing things you would never say or do.”

For a long moment silence hung over them as they digested what Valandur had told them. Finally, Calandil gave him a concerned look. “I wonder how many times I thought I was speaking to a friend or even a stranger, never realizing I was, in fact, speaking to a Maia in disguise?”

“I suspect not at all,” Minalcar said, giving the younger ellon an amused look. “It does little good to be suspicious of people, wondering if they are who you think they are. I believe this was a one-time event for Valandur’s sake. Do not destroy your trust of others with such thoughts.”

“Minalcar is correct,” Valandur said. “We must not live without trust in one another. I do not believe the Valar or Maiar take on disguises lightly and always for a great purpose rather than as a whim. In my case, the Valar were concerned that certain people would ill-treat me because of my going to Alqualondë.”

“He means my atar,” Intarion said ruefully, joining the conversation for the first time. “And they had good reason to believe it in his case.”

“I do not blame Lord Ingoldo for his disbelief, or even really for yours and everyone else’s. If it hadn’t happened to me, I doubt I would have believed it either. At any rate, I would like to put the entire incident behind me and concentrate on the here-and-now. And is it my imagination, or does the air feel tainted somehow?”

The others began sniffing the air.

“Smoke,” Minalcar said.

“Already?” someone asked. “We’re barely a league from the city. Are all of the Southern Fiefdoms burning?”

“It’s the wind,” Simpandil replied, pointing. “See? It’s shifted from the west to the south, bringing with it the scent of smoke.”

“Still, to smell it so soon seems a bit ominous,” another commented. “Let us hope that when we get there we don’t find that we are too late.”

To that, they all agreed and they fell silent, each lost in his own thoughts.

About the time that Telperion was reaching his height of brilliance and beginning to fade toward Second Mingling, they had covered nearly half the distance to the Fiefdoms. Finwë called a halt and allowed everyone to rest for a time. In the far distance Valandur could make out a mass of people still striding along and realized it must be the group that was following Lord Saelmir, the Royal Exchequer.

“Here, have some coimas.”

Valandur turned his attention to Minalcar who held out the travel bread. Valandur thanked him. “Laiqualassë did not come?” he asked, speaking of Minalcar’s other grandson.

“Oh, he wanted to come, but my son felt he should remain behind and look after the ellith.”

“As if Ammë needs looking after,” Nambarauto said with a grin. Minalcar snorted in amusement and Eldacáno rolled his eyes.

“That was just the excuse I gave,” Eldacáno said. “In truth, I just did not wish to risk him or your sisters, who also wanted to come.”

“But you do not mind risking me,” Nambarauto said. His tone was not argumentive, only curious.

“You are well able to take care of yourself, but your brother is just young enough to be careless of his life. Besides you know what a handful Mari is. Your ammë cannot handle her on her own, or so she constantly tells me.” He gave them a sardonic look and they all chuckled.

“And I left Miri minding the shop,” Aldarion said. “As she is my senior journeyman, I left her in charge of the apprentices.”

“And rightly so,” Eldacáno said in approval.

A few minutes later, the call came for them to set out again and Valandur noticed that Finwë had not bothered to remount but walked with Findis, their horses trailing after them. Their guards did likewise. This effectively slowed their march and Valandur recognized Finwë’s intent: he wished to keep his group separate from Lord Saelmir’s about two miles ahead of them.

Most of those around Valandur walked in silence and there was no singing other than birdsong. About an hour later they came to the eaves of what Cememmírë said was the royal preserve, a stretch of woods where Finwë would go hunting.

“It borders the northern most part of the Fiefdoms,” she explained. “We’re not far now.”

All the while they could smell the smoke and the acrid tang made them cough at times and they all drank more water than they normally would to soothe their parched throats.

In spite of Cemmemírë’s assurances, it was almost Second Mingling before they came to the first farming village. The road, which had dipped into a narrow valley, now rose along a gentle swell of hills and as they came to the top of the rise, they could see the land spread before them. A small village nestled at the base of the hill they were on surrounded by fields ripe with grain and orchards laden with fruit. It was picturesque and even quaint to Valandur’s eyes, long used to living in a city. Looking down from their vantage point, though, he had a sense that the village was deserted, for he did not see anyone about.

Someone gasped and Valandur looked to where they were pointing. At first he was not sure what he was seeing. Everywhere he looked the land appeared tranquil. Well past the village he could see Lord Saelmir’s group still moving and even beyond that was another group walking under the banner of another of Finwë’s nobles, but then his eyes were drawn to the horizon and, with a rising sense of horror, Valandur realized that the entire southern horizon appeared smudged and indistinct, yet not from distance.

“The Valar save us!” he exclaimed without thinking as he watched thick black smoke rise, turning the blue skies an ugly grey. He heard someone sobbing and, tearing his eyes from the horizon, saw Findis standing beside her atar as she wept in his arms, and knew the same sense of despair as she.

They had arrived too late.

****

Coimas: ‘Life-bread’, the attested Quenya equivalent of the Sindarin lembas, which actually means ‘travel-bread’.

Nai iValar aselyë: ‘May the Valar be with you’.





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