28: From Ashes to Ashes

“Well, at least we have water,” Calandil said to Valandur as he handed him a ladle after dipping it into the bucket that had been brought up from the village well.

Valandur took a sip and nodded. “That’s something, at least.” He stared about him.

The land was desolate. Most of the village had been made from wood, which was more readily available than stone in this part of Eldamar. All of it was gone and there was nothing to indicate that there had once been a thriving village here except for the well, about the only thing constructed from stone. Valandur had to admire Poldormo. Even in the midst of panic with the fire threatening everything, the ellon still had had the presence of mind to order the well covered and the cover was of stone, rather than wood, so the ashes never fouled the water. The wood canopy had burned away and only the stonework remained, though parts of it were cracked from the intense heat. The bucket had also survived, for they found it hanging on a hook inside the well.

“We’ll have to clear some space here beside the well to set up our camp,” he said, taking another sip of the well water, “and have latrines dug.”

“Shifting the ash is going to be hard work,” Calandil pointed out with a scowl.

“Then the sooner we get started, the better,” was Valandur’s only comment as he set the ladle inside the bucket. “Rainendil!”

The ellon turned at the sound of his name and came over from where he had been sifting through debris, apparently looking for anything that might have survived the fire. Valandur threw an arm around the ellon’s shoulders. “I know this is a shock for you, for all of the villagers.”

“In the back of me mind I be knowin’ that naught could be survivin’ the fire,” Rainendil said in a whisper, “but when I saw those other villages and how most of the buildings still stood, I kept hopin’….” He shook his head. “What be we doin’ now? Where will we live? I dinna be wantin’ to live elsewhere. This be me home.”

“I know,” Valandur said softly. “The well is undamaged and the water is not fouled. That means that this place can be habitable again. Starting all over is hard, but your grandfather and many others have done just that, and more than once. They built Aipiomas from nothing and they will do it again and the cherry trees will bloom. Now, we need to send the others off to their own villages and set up camp here. We’ll need latrines and…”

Rainendil nodded, pulling himself together. “I can show you where the village privies were.”

“Good. Calandil, why don’t you go with Rainendil? Take a couple of others with you. Aldarion, let’s organize everyone else to shift this ash away from the well and set up camp.”

Calandil nodded and called to a couple of others to follow him and Rainendil while Aldarion and the other people from Tirion set about clearing the space around the well. Valandur ordered the well cover to be replaced, fearing that the ash being moved about would make its way to the water. In the meantime, he spoke quietly to the other villagers before sending them off. They were all looking a bit stunned and fearful.

“Keep in mind that this is where the fires first started,” he said to them. “It may be that your own villages did not suffer total destruction, but even if they did, remember that buildings can be rebuilt. Check your wells. Report back here as quickly as you may. The sooner the Crown knows the extent of the destruction, the sooner we can begin rebuilding.”

There were nods all around and they looked more determined and hopeful as they parted, some heading east and others west. Valandur looked to see what might need doing and in the end joined Aldarion and the others in removing the ashes around the well as best as they could.

****

Hours later, Valandur was standing at the well futilely trying to clean himself up but gave it up as a lost cause after a few minutes. He turned as he heard someone approach and saw Calandil looking as filthy as he knew himself to be.

“There’s nothing for the horses to eat except for the grain we brought with us and that will not last for long,” Calandil said without preamble. “I don’t think we should keep them here.”

“You’re probably right,” Valandur said with a nod. “Let’s feed and water them and then send them back. I’ll write a note of explanation.” He gazed southward where in the middle distance he could see the edge of the Forest that belonged to Lord Oromë. The lush greenness of the trees was a startling contrast to the ash white starkness of the surrounding landscape and he wished he was there instead of in the midst of the desolation. Shaking his head, he gave Calandil a wry look. “When we get back to Tirion, the first thing I’m going to do is take a very, very long bath.”

Calandil laughed. “You and everyone else. We found the privies.” He pointed toward the west. “They lie on what was the edge of the village. We’re digging them out a bit since they were nicely covered with ash. We’ll set up some sort of screen using blankets for privacy but it’s a very primitive affair.”

“No more primitive than what we put up with on the Great Journey,” Valandur commented with a shrug.

“True, but not everyone with us here was with us there. Many of them are Second or Third Generation with no experience of living primitively. I even overheard one ellon mutter something about not knowing if he could relieve himself with an audience.”

Valandur chuckled. “Have the horses ready for departure. I’ll see about writing the note.”

Calandil nodded and headed off to where the horses were congregated, calling to a few others to help him with them while Valandur went to his bags which, along with everyone else’s, were piled up in a cleared space and fished out a portable writing desk. As there were no camp stools, he simply sat on the ground as he opened the case and began writing. Within the hour, the horses were fed and watered and sent on their way back north. Valandur was not at all surprised at the alacrity with which the animals departed, none of them apparently willing to linger any longer than necessary.

“Look!” someone shouted, pointing east. “Someone’s coming.”

Valandur shaded his eyes for a better view and saw a couple of people coming their way. He turned to Calandil and Aldarion, standing beside him. “Let’s hope that they bring some good news and that their villages did not suffer total destruction like Aipiomas.” The other two ellyn nodded as they stood waiting for the villagers to come and give their report, but when they drew closer and Valandur could see their expressions, he went to meet them. One of the ellyn was white under the layer of ash that coated him and his eyes were full of anguish and Valandur instinctively drew him into his embrace.

“It be gone,” the ellon whispered, his voice full of disbelief at his own words. “It be all gone.”

“I am so sorry,” Valandur said softly. “Which village?”

The ellon named it and then his companion spoke up. “My village be almost gone as well and the well be fouled with ash.”

Valandur nodded. “I am truly sorry for your loss,” he said sincerely.

The ellon shrugged, giving him a resigned look. “We can rebuild,” was all he said.

“Yes, you can,” Valandur said firmly, giving the first ellon a brief but heartfelt hug, smiling encouragingly. “Come and have something to eat. We need to wait for the others to report in.”

The rest of the villagers trickled in over the next several hours and those who had the furthest to go did not return until the next day. As each person returned, he gave the name of his village and its condition. Valandur asked Calandil to keep careful track of all the information. Once the last villager returned, Valandur took a look at the map and Calandil’s careful notations, while everyone gathered around them to hear the news.

“Five villages are completely gone and the three furthest to the east are untouched,” Valandur stated out loud. “The rest are partially destroyed. Most of the wells are fouled with ash, but they can probably be cleaned out.”

“We can send people back to those three villages that are standing,” Calandil said, “and from their reports, it looks as if one or two of the villages partially damaged can also be re-inhabited, but I doubt the others can be.”

“Yes, I agree,” Valandur said. “What concerns me is that we’ve lost crops. I think, based on what we’ve seen, nearly half the Fiefdoms was damaged to some extent. What is left will barely sustain one city, never mind three plus all the villages.”

“Most of the fields that have been burned up belong to the Vanyar,” one of the Noldor from Tirion pointed out.

“And so?” Aldarion demanded angrily. “Does that mean that the rest of us can eat while they starve?”

The ellon gave a huff of frustration. “No, I’m not saying that. I’m only saying that the burden of rebuilding should not fall on the Noldor. The Vanyar will need to help.”

“And they will,” Valandur said coldly. “We did, after all, build our own city without your help.”

“And why should we have,” the ellon retorted with a sneer, “when you deserted us, your friends, to sit at the feet of the Valar?”

Before Valandur could respond, Rainendil spoke up. “Be silent, Noldo. Not all of us be sittin’ before the Valar to be taught by them. We needed not your help in buildin’ our villages the first time, we dinna be needin’ it now.”

There were murmurs of agreement from those villagers who were Vanyar and many of them cast dark looks at the Noldor among them. The one or two Telerin villagers remained studiously silent, their expressions neutral.

“The kings will sort out the extent to which each kingdom will carry the burden of rebuilding,” Valandur stated. “Our only task has been to determine the extent of the destruction. The fields are gone but they can be replanted. I think that that will be our primary goal at the moment. The sooner all these fields are sown, the better. Some of the villages that were untouched by the fires will need to contribute seed and that can be decided on later as well. The villagers who have no homes to go to will most likely be housed in Orvamas or elsewhere until we can rebuild.”

“And this time we be buildin’ in stone,” Rainendil said firmly and several people nodded.

“Where will you get the stone, though?” someone asked.

“We’ll figure that out later as well,” Valandur said before anyone else could offer an opinion, not wanting to get themselves embroiled in a useless discussion. “Right now, let us return to Orvamas so we can start making plans.”

No one disputed that suggestion and in a short time, loaded down with their supplies, they marched back north. Valandur took the lead with Calandil, Aldarion and Rainendil joining him. By the time they reached the main road some of the Tirion-folk started complaining about having to lug everything and wishing they had been able to keep at least the packhorses. Valandur stopped and pointed down at their feet. “Eru gave us two legs for walking and strong backs for carrying. We’ll be on the road for only a few hours, a day at most. Many of us walked hundreds of leagues for well over a yén before ever reaching these shores, crossing rivers and mountains and not a single road did we see. You children are so soft.” He pitched his voice and sneered in such a way as to shame them and the muttering stopped. It did not escape his notice that the villagers stood by looking smug, but decided not to chastise them for it. Instead, he simply resumed walking, ignoring everyone.

They had set out three hours after Telperion had reached his full bloom and reached the vicinity of Orvamas just as Laurelin was at her peak. They were surprised to find their way blocked by a contingent of Noldorin guards demanding their business. Even after Valandur explained their mission the guards were reluctant to allow them to enter the village.

“What has happened here?” Valandur demanded. “Where is Prince Intarion? It was he who sent us to ascertain the conditions to the south. Send word to him that we’ve returned.”

“The Vanyarin prince is not in charge here,” one of the guards said with a sneer. “Prince Fëanáro rules here.”

“Rules?” Valandur repeated, frowning at the implications of the ellon’s words, wondering what had transpired during his absence and what had happened to Intarion. “Very well, then send word to Prince Fëanáro.”

“We have orders not to let anyone enter the village,” the first guard said with a shake of his head.

“Well, I am not just anyone,” Valandur retorted with impatience. “I am Loremaster Valandur and King Finwë appointed me, along with Prince Intarion, to help succor the Fiefdoms.”

“Loremaster Valandur, is it?” the guard said, narrowing his eyes. “If you truly be him, then you may enter, but no others, especially these… villagers.” The last was said with contempt.

“Well, what about us who are from Tirion?” Calandil demanded. “We’re not villagers and this is the only road to the city. I don’t fancy having to camp out here any longer than I need to.”

“You can make your way east or west to the encampments,” Rainendil suggested, “then go round to the road that way.”

“The encampments are also closed by order of Prince Fëanáro,” the head guardsman said. “You’ll not be getting into any of them either.”

There were cries of dismay and angry demands for answers, but the guardsman just shook his head. “Orvamas and the encampments are under guard by the prince’s orders. You cannot enter. Anyone from Tirion will have to go around to reach the road, the villagers are to disperse and where you go is not my concern, but you will not be permitted into the encampments. As for you, Loremaster, Prince Fëanáro specifically left instructions that you and you alone were to be allowed entrance.”

Several people started protesting, but Valandur just nodded and spoke to them. “Do as the ellon says. There’s no point any of you from Tirion remaining here. Go home. As for you villagers, go to one of the other nearby villages and explain what has happened. Hopefully they will take you in until this is all settled. I do not know what Prince Fëanáro is up to but there’s naught any of you can do for now. I have the map and can let His Highness know what we found.”

There was a great deal of reluctance on the part of all of them and many of those from Tirion complained about not being able to retrieve their horses, but eventually, they all agreed to go on while the villagers decided to go back south to the village they had passed an hour earlier.

“As soon as I learn what has happened, I will send word to you,” Valandur told Rainendil, then he gave Calandil and Aldarion hugs.

“Be careful,” Calandil whispered to him. “I don’t like what is happening here.”

“I know,” Valandur said just as softly. “Take care yourself. As soon as you get to Tirion, seek out Lady Findis. Tell her what has happened.”

“But we don’t know what has happened, not really,” Aldarion protested.

“But we can tell her what we do know and leave it to her to decide what to do with the information,” Calandil stated.

“Yes,” Valandur said. “Tell her from me that her brother is causing trouble and you do not know what has happened to Prince Intarion.”

The two ellyn nodded and then they were off. Valandur watched them go with mixed feelings, then turned to the guards. “Well, then, let me through.”

The head guardsman raised an eyebrow at the imperious tone but complied, signaling for the others in the company to step aside. “You’ll find His Highness at the tavern,” the ellon said and Valandur nodded his thanks. He made his way through the village and the absolute quiet unnerved him. The place could’ve been deserted, except that he now saw several guards patrolling the streets, but no villagers. He was stopped and questioned as to his business.

“I am Loremaster Valandur,” he said quietly. “I am on my way to see Prince Fëanáro.”

The guards gave him suspicious looks but then one of them nodded. “We will escort you.”

It was not a suggestion and Valandur did not bother to protest, merely nodding his head in acquiescence. Within a few moments he was entering the tavern, the guards stopping at the door and then resuming their patrol. Valandur stood for a moment waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light, hoping to see Intarion. All he could see were several guards. Of Morion or his brother there was also no sign.

“You!”

He looked to his left to see Fëanáro standing there, his expression full of anger.

“Where’s Intarion?” Valandur demanded.

“He is not your concern, Vanya,” the prince said with a sneer. “Take him and lock him in the storeroom off the kitchen,” he ordered and the guards immediately took Valandur by the arms.

“What is the meaning of this?” Valandur demanded, struggling against their hold.

“I’m arresting you for treason against the Crown, Vanya,” Fëanáro replied. “Get him out of my sight.”

The guards dragged Valandur toward the kitchen and Valandur did not fight them, knowing the futility of trying to escape. In moments one of the guards was pulling out a key and unlocking the door to the storeroom and then Valandur was pushed inside, the door shutting and blocking all light so that he was alone in the dark and still with no clear idea of what had happened or why. As he stumbled around trying to gauge the size of the room and its contents, he wondered what Fëanáro had done with Intarion and if he, too, was being accused of treason.