27: Succoring the Fiefdoms

As people began trickling into the tavern in groups of two or three, Intarion greeted them respectfully, enquiring as to their health and the health of their fellow villagers, assuring them that his Majesty was even now making arrangements for succoring them. Varnion, meanwhile, had returned, handing Valandur several sheets of foolscap, along with a quill and a bottle of ink and the loremaster set himself up at a nearby table.

“And what be thy name, haran, and the name of thy village?” he asked each one as Intarion steered them to him. In a few cases, it was a massánië who represented the village, the haran having decided he was needed in the camp to help maintain order.

Within the hour all the village representatives were there. In all, there were over twenty villages that had been evacuated, but Valandur sincerely hoped that most of them were untouched by the fire or had suffered minimal damage. Those from Tirion who had accompanied Intarion and Valandur reported in, assuring them that they had found all interested parties. Valandur handed the list to Intarion who then addressed them all.

“I thank you for coming, masters and mistresses. Loremaster Valandur and I have been charged with organizing the refugees, determining which villages still stand and which need to be rebuilt, and seeing that all are provided for. The Noldóran is even now releasing grain and other produce and is having them sent.” He nodded at Valandur who realized that the prince wished for him to explain how the food would be distributed.

“We have enquired as to the going price for bread, potatoes and the like,” he said, “and we will be selling everything at a discount. Three coppers for two loaves of bread, one copper for a dozen potatoes….”

“But that be not right,” someone shouted angrily above a growing murmur of displeasure from the crowd. “Most of me people left without more than the clothes on their back. We be havin’ no coin for the buyin’ of anythin’.”

 “But that is not to say there is no coin to be had, Master,” Valandur replied, raising his voice. “We suggest that when you go back to your people, that you have them pool all the coin in your possession, buy the produce that you can from it and if you still lack, we have thought to hire people to help replant the fields around Orvamas that are presently being occupied by refugees.”

“But why should we be havin’ to pay for anythin’?” another demanded. “You be askin’ us to buy back the sweat of our brows. Why dinna the king just give us what we be needin’? Be he so poor in coin himself that he be beggarin’ us the more?”

“The Noldóran is not in need of your coin, leastwise not in this manner,” Intarion answered before Valandur could speak. “The Crown is not a charity. And you buy back the sweat of your brow, as you say, every time you pay for a commodity, be it a loaf of bread or a new plow. This is no different, except, recognizing your destitution, we are lowering the cost. No one will profit from this, but your people will at least have food and your dignity intact.”

There was a brief silence as everyone contemplated Intarion’s words. After a moment, Valandur spoke again. “We need to ascertain as quickly as possible how many villages still stand. To that end, we need a map showing all the villages.” He turned to Varnion standing by the bar. “Is there a map of the Southern Fiefdoms anywhere?”

Varnion shook his head. “Nay. I dinna think so. There be no need of maps when everyone be knowin’ where the next village lies.”

“Hmm… we’ll need a map then if only to make sure that our records are complete. Once we know where all the villages are located, we’ll send teams out to check on them. I believe there are already people checking to make sure all the fires are out?” This last was directed at Intarion who nodded.

 “So Uncle Finwë said. The storm should have drowned the fire, but he is taking no chances. And we still have not heard back from his agents who are making an account of the extent of the damage caused by the fire.”

“That will take time,” Valandur said. “At any rate, we should have at least one person from each of the villages come with us when we go south so they can testify as to the truth of the conditions we find there.”

Intarion nodded. “That sounds like a good idea, but I don’t think we both should go. One of us should stay here and make sure everything is done in an orderly manner.”

“Well, first things first,” Valandur said turning back to the farmers. “I understand that all of your villages lie south of Carnilotsenan?” There were murmurs of assent. “How far south is that and which of your villages would be considered the closest to Orvamas?”

“That would be mine,” one of the ellyn said, stepping forward. “It be some three leagues from here, a mile beyond the valley. There be two villages between here and there.”

“Good. Now, if this is Orvamas here,” he took a blank piece of foolscap and marked it near the top and wrote Orvamas next to it, “how far are they and do they lie directly south?” The ellon gave him distances and approximate locations of the villages. “Now whose village is next?” Valandur asked once he had recorded the information.

One by one, each of the representatives came forward. In some cases there was a minor dispute as to whose village was closer or further away, but eventually a rough map was created. Taking a quick glance, Valandur saw how the villages were scattered across the breadth of the Fiefdoms. Based on the recorded distances, he estimated that the area encompassed nearly fifty leagues from east to west and the first evacuated village was probably twenty miles from Orvamas. It would take weeks to cover the distances and he doubted that anyone would wait that long to learn if they could return home or not. He looked up at Intarion who had leaned over his right shoulder to examine the map and the younger ellon’s expression told him that the prince had come to a similar conclusion.

“I wish we knew for sure just how far east the fires spread,” Intarion said quietly.

“What of those who fought against it?” Valandur asked. “Surely there are people who can tell us.”

“A number of ellyn from these villages volunteered to help fight the fires, but none of them have returned as yet.”

Valandur and Intarion turned to see Morion standing there. “They must be checking to make sure the fires are all out,” Intarion said and Morion nodded.

“So do we wait for them to return or go looking ourselves?” Valandur asked.

“My guess is that villages lying within twenty or thirty miles of here were untouched by the fires,” Morion said. “It seems to me that the fires remained further in the south based on what few reports managed to come our way.” He leaned over Valandur’s left shoulder to get a closer look at the map and his finger traced a route. “Here. These villages are probably untouched and all lie within a day’s walk of here. I suggest you send someone from each of these villages to check. They’ll know the shortcuts that will get them home the sooner rather than going by the road. If these villages are fine then we can send the residents back by the next Second Mingling at the latest. That should ease tensions right there.”

“We’ll need horses if we’re going to check anything that lies beyond this point,” Intarion said, pointing to a spot on the map.

“The smith has horses that you can use,” Morion said.

Intarion nodded and straightened to address their audience. “This is what we will do. We will have someone from the following villages go to see what condition they are in.” He nodded to Valandur who rattled off the names and then spoke again. “I understand that these villages are relatively close by and it is unlikely that the fire ever reached them and your people can return home forthwith. So please go and the rest remain so we can begin organizing teams.”

There was a flurry of motion as certain people began leaving while others shuffled about. Morion, meanwhile, was ordering his people to distribute food and drink to everyone. Once people were settled again Intarion and Valandur then began organizing them into teams based on the locations of their villages.

“Poldormo, you said your village was the first to be touched by the fire,” Intarion said.

“That be correct,” the farmer said with a nod.

“Aipiomas lies here,” Intarion said, pointing to the map, speaking more to Valandur. “That looks to be central to most of these other villages. Perhaps we can set up a camp there and have everyone report to you.”

“You wish for me to go?” Valandur asked.

“One of us needs to stay here and supervise the distribution of goods,” Intarion replied softly, giving Valandur a look that the other ellon could not quite interpret. “And it might be better if you’re not here when Fëanáro comes.”

Valandur resisted a sigh, merely nodding at the logic of Intarion’s statement. “Very well. I will go. You are correct that Aipiomas would be the most logical place to set up a camp.”

Intarion then turned back to the farmers and they spent another hour determining how many people would accompany Valandur to the south as well as discussing the best way to distribute food and other supplies before the meeting broke up. It was decided they would not set off until they had heard back from the other villages first as Valandur rightly felt that he should be there to help oversee the exodus of the villagers.

In the meantime, the first shipment of grain and other produce began making its way into Orvamas. Valandur silently approved of the fact that Finwë had ordered out an entire contingent of guards as an escort for the wagons, the captain reporting directly to Intarion when he learned that Prince Fëanáro was not present, giving the Vanyarin prince a salute.

“Ten more wagons are on their way,” he told them, “but they will not be here for a few days. His Majesty also sent several barrels of flour to start with while the grain is being milled.”

“Good,” Intarion said. “I’ve already assigned each household in the village to bake a certain number of loaves for distribution. We will set up a distribution station here in the village square and they can come for the flour. There is only the one mill. I’ll have Varnion show you where it is. As for everything else, we are setting up three stations for distribution. Have your men divide everything into thirds. These ellyn will show you where they are to go. Is it possible to send a message back to Tirion letting them know to divide everything into thirds? It would save time that way.”

“I’ll send one of my men back if you have written instructions,” the captain said.

“I will do that immediately,” Intarion said. “Loremaster Valandur will oversee things in the meantime.”

Intarion went back into the tavern while Valandur introduced the captain to the three ellyn who had volunteered to show the guards where the distribution stations were.

****

The first of the scouts, as Valandur called them, began trickling back several hours later, all of them reporting that their villages were still standing. As each villager reported in, Valandur made a notation on the map and then, escorted by some of the guards, sent the person back to the encampment with instructions to gather his fellow villagers and be off. Thus, for a while, as people began leaving, there was general confusion, but the presence of the guards kept the exodus orderly. By the next First Mingling, nearly half the refugees had left, and conditions improved noticeably.

Two villages, those furthest south, were found to be partially destroyed, but the scouts assured them that what remained could be salvaged and those whose homes had been burnt would be succored by their neighbors.

“The sooner we be back and rebuildin’ our homes, the better,” one of the ellyn opined, and Intarion agreed. Thus, those villagers were also allowed to leave with the understanding that some of them might not have homes to go to. Valandur quietly made a suggestion and Intarion agreed to it, ordering the captain of the guards to have a certain number of loaves of bread and bushels of potatoes set aside for these particular villages.

When one of the headmen protested that his people did not have the coin to buy anything even at a discount, Intarion waved his objections away. “When you return home, seek out your coin and pay what you can to the guards accompanying you. The rest you may consider a gift from his Majesty while you rebuild.”

The villagers left with words of gratitude.

“We can’t do that for all of them, though,” Intarion said to Valandur and Morion, who was with them at the time, watching as the villagers passed them on the road before the tavern. “If these two villages are damaged, chances are all the others further south are gone.”

“True,” Valandur admitted, “but in that case, the responsibility for rebuilding and succoring the villagers lies with the Crown, and in most cases, that will be Ingwë, for many of the remaining villagers are Vanyar.”

“That will be a heavy burden for the High King to bear, and I’m glad I am not the one to have to tell him,” Morion said. 

Intarion grinned. “I’m sure Uncle Finwë will help and I wonder if anyone has thought to let Olwë know what has happened. Some of the affected fields might belong to him.”

“Certainly those around Ando Tarassëo,” Valandur said. “That village was mostly Telerin and I am assuming that with the back burning that was done, those fields are gone as well.”

“Hmmm… yes, but the fields to the west and south were untouched, so they are better off than most. Well, now that we’ve gotten things sorted out, the sooner you go, the sooner we can decide how best to succor the rest of these refugees. I’m going to check with Varnion and Morion about the possibility of the villagers here in Orvamas and any others untouched by the fires taking in families, at least ellith and elflings while the ellyn are busy rebuilding. I do not like the idea of these encampments. “

Valandur shrugged. “They’re not much worse than what we put up with on the Great Journey, and many of the older ones will certainly remember that and the elflings will think it a grand adventure and won’t care.”

Intarion rolled his eyes as Valandur smirked. “Nevertheless, I fear the longer these people have to endure these conditions, the greater the possibility of tempers flaring and resentments growing.”

“On that, I agree,” Valandur said. “Well, if you want me to leave soon, I had best check out horses and get supplies together. Let those who will be accompanying me know that I plan to leave at the next Second Mingling.”

Intarion nodded and Valandur headed off to the smithy, where he spent a few minutes looking over the few horses that were there, choosing a bay mare and settling on a price for her. “I will come for her at Second Mingling,” he said then headed back to the tavern where Morion offered him a bed in his own home when Valandur mentioned that he needed somewhere to sleep for a time.

“When I bought the tavern, I decided not to add on rooms,” Morion told him as he led him across the courtyard to his house. “There’s no call for inns as such here in the Fiefdoms. People are more likely to stay with friends or family, but people do appreciate drinking and eating establishments while traveling and the locals like a place to congregate and visit with one another.”

He showed Valandur into a modest home, neatly kept by Morion’s wife who greeted the loremaster politely and showed him to a small bedroom which had been one of their children’s but was now a guest room. In minutes, he was undressed and lying down, sighing in comfort as he slipped effortlessly onto the Path of Dreams.

****

“We should be back in a week or so,” Valandur said to Intarion as he mounted his horse.

“We’ll see you then,” Intarion said, waving as the group set off.

Besides representatives from the villages, some of those from Tirion were also accompanying Valandur, including Calandil and Aldarion. Cemendur had volunteered to stay behind and help with the food distribution. Those from Tirion were also riding, while the villagers would walk. Each villager carried a satchel filled with food, including coimas, along with a blanket and two waterskins. Several packhorses were loaded with other supplies that they would need. The riders also had haversacks filled with the necessities. Valandur couldn’t help noticing the smirks of disdain on most of the faces of the villagers at the sight of ‘those Tirion-folk’ on their horses, overhearing (but ignoring) some whispered comments that had the villagers laughing at the riders’ expense.

“They don’t think much of us, do they?” Calandil said as he rode beside Valandur. Aldarion rode on his other side.

Valandur grinned. “We city folk are soft and in need of much coddling.”

“I have to admit, I’ve never felt so sore in my life,” Aldarion commented. “And tired. I have never felt so tired. I even slept with my eyes closed! Can you believe that?”

His two friends laughed. “You children are so pampered,” Valandur said in a mock tone of disdain.

“Children are we?” Calandil retorted. “You forget, we made the Great Journey with you.”

“Then you must remember how it was,” Valandur rejoined and the other two nodded and the three fell into silence for a time, each lost in his own thoughts. Valandur half listened to what appeared to be a walking song sung by one of the villagers as he admired the scenery of rolling hills full of ripening grain with scattered copses of beeches, elms and maples adding interest to the view. Even as he was idly analyzing the words of the song with one part of his mind, he was reviewing what he needed to do once they reached the vicinity of Aipiomas. Poldormo had sent his grandson to represent the village, a sturdy ellon with the unlikely name of Rainendil. His grandfather had explained that he was named thus because he was usually the peacemaker in the family.

His thoughts were interrupted when Calandil spoke. “I wish to apologize for earlier,” he said quietly.

Valandur gave him a puzzled look, not quite sure what the ellon meant. “You know,” Calandil continued, “when I called you Quisero.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that,” Valandur responded with a shrug. “Too much else of more importance demanding my attention.”

“Well, anyway, I want to apologize. It was uncalled for, and I’m sorry,” Calandil said sincerely.

“Apology accepted. Now, let’s talk about something else. I noticed Intarion has not said a word about Lady Lirulin. Why is that, do you suppose?”

Calandil and Aldarion grinned and the latter spoke. “Well, now that you mention it, it is strange because for a while he could speak of nothing else.”

“Yes,” Calandil added. “Even while we were searching for you and the princess, he kept going on about Lirulin this and Lirulin that. Funny how he clammed right up as soon as you and Findis were found.”

“Hmm….” was Valandur’s only response.

“So is there something we should know about you and the princess?” Aldarion asked slyly.

Valandur chuckled. “If I ever find out myself, I’ll let you know.”

They continued riding, stopping a few times to rest the horses and take some sustenance. Sometime after Laurelin reached full bloom and was beginning to fade, they came into the vicinity of the two villages that had suffered damage. The air smelled of smoke though the sky was blue and there were no clouds. By mutual consent, they stopped on the crest of a small hill that allowed them to see across the valley.

“Oh, Valar!” Valandur heard more than one person whisper in shock and nodded to himself as he grimly looked upon blackened fields. A village lay perhaps a half mile to the east of the road, connected to it by a narrow lane. He could see several buildings burnt almost to the ground, though it appeared that most of the village still stood. Some people were clearing the debris while others were apparently checking the fields that had not been touched by the fire. Those lay to the north and further east. South and west, there was nothing but bare ground covered with ash. In the middle distance Valandur could see a small copse, the trees rising black and grim against the horizon, though some were fallen, all of them naked of leaves, and he felt ill at the sight.

He turned around to look at the villagers, their expressions passing from horror into something closer to despair at the realization that further south the devastation could only be worse. He looked upon them with compassion.

“It may not be as bad as it looks,” he said. “Some of your villages lie further east. They may not have been touched.”

A few of the villagers visibly pulled themselves together at that thought, but most still were too much in shock. Valandur cast a concerned look at Calandil and Aldarion, both of whom nodded. “We need to get on,” Aldarion said softly. “Standing here will not solve anything.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Valandur said. “Let us go.” He decided not to detour to the village but stayed on the road. The further south they went the more pervasive the smell of smoke and the light wind caused the ashes to eddy about them, forcing everyone to cover the lower parts of their faces in order to breathe. They continued on in grim silence, the villagers no longer in the mood for singing or jesting.

It was nearly the time of Mingling when Telperion would begin to flower when someone gave a yell, causing them all to stop. Valandur looked about and saw Rainendil come toward him, his face white.

“Here,” was all he said.

“What do you mean, Rainendil?” Valandur asked, looking down on the ellon in puzzlement.

“Aipiomas,” the ellon replied in a harsh whisper, pointing toward the west. “It be here. This be Aipiomas.”

Valandur looked westward and it took him a moment to realize what he was seeing. At first all he noticed was the thick layer of ash that covered everything, then he realized that there was a lane and looking along it he saw the charred skeleton of a single building a few hundred paces away. It was all that remained of Aipiomas.

****

Rainendil: Peace/harmony-friend/lover.