36: Return to Vanyamar

A farewell feast was held for both Olwë and Ingwë. Valandur refused to attend in spite of Intarion seeking him out and begging him to do so.

“It’s been perfectly miserable here and I just want someone who is as miserable as I there,” the prince said.

Valandur laughed and gave Intarion a fond smile. “I am planning to have a last meal with my friends. It will be some time before I see them again. I am sure you will survive the ordeal of another tedious feast. Besides, I doubt I would be welcome anyway and it’s better this way. Now, go. Surely Aldamir, Sorondur and the ellith are still your friends. Go to your uncle and ask that you be allowed to sit with them rather than at the high table. I am sure he will permit it and as High King he can overrule any objections made by your parents or others.”

“I wish I could join you instead,” Intarion groused. “I never minded being a member of the royal family until now. Now I wish I were just an ordinary person like yourself, free to go where you please and do what you want.”

“I am sorry, truly,” Valandur replied, giving the younger ellon a hug. “Best go now or you’ll be late.”

Intarion sighed but otherwise did not comment, leaving Valandur’s suite in a dejected mood. Valandur watched him walk away, shaking his head as he headed in the opposite direction. His friends had agreed to meet him at the Rose and Crown and he was looking forward to seeing them all again. Passing through the palace gates and onto Hwarin Mallë he reflected on all that he had experienced while in Tirion. He would miss his otornor and Minalcar and his family and hoped he could convince them to visit him in Vanyamar, perhaps the next time the Valar declared a festival. He would like to show off his city to his Noldorin friends, especially the Academy.

When he arrived at the inn, he was shown into a private parlor where he found most of the others already there and greeted them.

“Minalcar should be here soon enough,” Calandil told him as they hugged one another in greeting. “Why don’t we enjoy some wine while we wait for him?”

The others were amenable to the idea and soon they were all sitting around the table enjoying a Tirion red. “We’re sorry to see you leave so soon,” Calandil said, acting as spokesman for the others. “It’s been interesting.”

“For you perhaps,” Valandur retorted. “And even if nothing untoward had happened the entire time I was here, this day would still come, for the negotiations would have ended and I would have returned to Vanyamar and my duties at the Academy.”

“So you will not be joining the High King’s household?” Simpandil asked.

“Perhaps not in an official capacity,” Valandur replied. “Ingwë hasn’t formally asked me, he’s merely discussed the possibility, but truly, why would I want to? You’ve seen what can happen when one of us gets embroiled in the machinations of kings and princes. I am not of the nobility and have no training in the niceties of court life. If Ingwë wishes to consult me on a matter, I will be more than happy to accommodate him, but otherwise, I want nothing to do with any of it. The Academy is enough.”

“Is it true, what Calandil said about Lord Manwë making you a Manwendur?” Aldarion asked.

Valandur nodded. “Apparently, though he said I had some growing up to do first.” He flashed them a self-deprecatory grin and they all laughed.

At that moment, the door opened and Minalcar stepped inside carrying a cloth-wrapped package. Eldacáno and Nambarauto were with him and soon the newcomers were sitting with the others enjoying the wine. One of the inn’s serving ellith came in to take their food orders and then left.

“So what’s in the package?” Valandur asked, nodding toward the oddly wrapped bundle sitting on the table before Minalcar. For an answer, Minalcar shoved the object toward Valandur.

“They all chipped in,” he said, nodding to Valandur’s otornor. “I’ve spent the better part of two days working on it to finish it in time.”

“What is it?” Valandur asked, frowning slightly. “I don’t need….”

“But you do,” Minalcar interjected. “Open it.”

Valandur put down his goblet and began untying the object, removing the cloth to reveal what he recognized as a mobile, though it was inactive at the moment. There were two intersecting circles of clear crystal in which the left one held a likeness of Telperion with leaves of silver and the other held Laurelin with leaves of gold. The Trees were attached to a base shaped like the Mound of the Trees and made primarily of virin so that they could see the mobile’s inner workings.

“Does it work?” Ferenion asked.

“Of course it works,” Minalcar snorted in disgust while Eldacáno and Nambarauto grinned. “Here, move it over a bit so that the light shines directly on it and press this lever,” he ordered Valandur, who complied, and then they all sat back, oohing and aahing as the mobile sprang into life. Both Trees seemed to glow, giving off light, and Valandur realized that the entire thing was powered by crystals embedded in the base. Telperion’s circle moved so it was on top and little white flowers began to open up out of the base. As Telperion came around, Laurelin also moved until the two were side-by-side again, but now Laurelin was on the left. Then she rose and the white flowers disappeared to be replaced by yellow flowers. All the while, as the mobile whirled about, there was the tinkling sound of music, a familiar melody which made Valandur smile when he heard it. It was a simple song of praise to the Two Trees taught to elflings. Unconsciously, he hummed along, then as Telperion began rising again he started singing the opening verses and the others joined in:

“Telperion with his ancient crown, in silver glory does abound,
Sing praises to the mingling Trees; their blessed light a joy to see.
Laurelin with her flowers fair, in golden glory light prepares,
Sing praises to the mingling Trees, their blessed light a joy to see.”

Valandur let the Trees rise and fall a second time, but when they came round to their original positions once again, he reached over and turned it off, glancing over at Minalcar. “You did this in two days?” he asked in awe.

Minalcar shrugged. “It’s a rushed job, I know, but….”

“If this is a rushed job, I want to see what you do when you’re not in a hurry,” Valandur said. “This is exquisite. Thank you, all of you.”

“We felt you deserved something special to remember us by,” Cemendur said.

“I can hardly forget any of you,” Valandur protested. “You’re my otornor.”

“Yes, we know,” Calandil said, “but you’ve been through a lot since you’ve been here and we just wanted you to have a memento to remind you of the good times you had with us, instead of the bad.”

“And I appreciate the gesture, truly. I’m not sure how I will get it home though. I do not think it would survive the trip perched on a packhorse.”

“Not to worry,” Minalcar said. “Eldacáno is planning to go to Valmar in a few weeks to consult with Lord Aulë and has agreed to make a detour to Vanyamar. He will bring it with him.”

“Thank you again,” Valandur said. About then, their meal was served, so Valandur set the mobile on a side table while he and his friends continued to visit with one another.

****

The ceremony of departure was almost perfunctory, barely polite on the part of them all. Valandur stood beside his horse, observing the farewelling between the three kings, clinically analyzing everyone’s gestures and the way they spoke and stood. Finwë was stiff in his delivery, while Indis stood like a statue, barely acknowledging anyone, even her own brother. Olwë appeared impatient with the entire affair and Valandur suspected that the Lindaran was wishing he were already boarding the swan ship that awaited him. Ingwë seemed the most relaxed but there was a tightness around his eyes that belied that initial observation and Valandur was willing to bet that the High King was as anxious to leave as Olwë, if not more so. Prince Fëanáro, standing dutifully beside Finwë, was obviously bored and apparently did not care who knew it, for Finwë kept casting dark looks at his son as he was speaking to Ingwë and Olwë.

It was a relief finally to be able to climb onto his horse and join in the exodus, though he kept to the back. Once they were beyond the palace gates, Ingwë and Olwë halted in the street. The High King leaned over and spoke quietly to Olwë. Valandur was too far away to hear what was being said, but the two kings smiled at one another and then Olwë was heading east with his guards while the Vanyar followed Ingwë west. In a short time they were away from the city and Valandur actually sighed with relief when he passed through the gates.

The journey to Valmar was done at a leisurely pace. Valandur kept mainly to himself, quietly helping with setting up the camps when they stopped. He spoke when spoken to but otherwise did not volunteer anything. Ingwë ignored him, for which he was grateful. Intarion and the other younger Elves tried to engage him in conversation and include him in their fellowship, but while he was unfailingly polite, he was reticent enough that eventually they gave up. He could see that they were hurt by his refusal to join them but he found he did not care, at least, not much. Yet, truly, what did he have in common with any of them? They were personable enough and he had enjoyed their company in earlier times, but too much had happened to him of late and he felt emotionally burned out. He just wanted to be left alone.

It was three First Minglings after leaving Tirion when they spied the eastern gate of Valmar, its mithril and pearls shining softly in the light of Telperion. As they made their way toward the northern gate of meteoric iron and diamonds, Ingwë suddenly ordered Ingoldo to lead the cavalcade on through Eldamas and await him in the fields just beyond the town. Ingoldo gave his brother a surprised look but nodded in acquiescence to the command.

“We will wait near the copse of oaks that is about a mile outside the town,” Ingoldo informed his brother.

Valandur watched as the High King turned back, taking one of the guards Finwë had lent them, since Ingwë had not come to Tirion with any escort other than Lord Nolondur, who had remained in the Southern Fiefdoms to oversee his vineyards and help with the restoration. There was whispered speculation among the others as to where Ingwë was going and most assumed that he was hoping to consult with the Elder King on some matter. Valandur had his own suspicions, but when Aldamir asked him what he thought he merely shrugged and said, “Perhaps we’ll find out… or not.” And everyone chuckled, recognizing the truth of his words.

They reached the copse and Valandur climbed down from his horse to stretch his legs along with everyone else, taking his waterskin and pouring out some water in a wooden bowl to give his horse before taking a swig himself. Someone wondered if they should set up camp, for no one knew how long the High King would be, but Ingoldo gave no such order so they stood or sat and waited.

Telperion was waning when one of the guards alerted them that Ingwë was returning and everyone scrambled to get to their horses and be ready to ride. Valandur watched as Ingwë came near and while the High King appeared calm, there was something in his expression, or lack thereof, that told Valandur a different story. As the High King passed him, they made eye contact for just a brief second and Valandur felt his blood freeze at what he saw in Ingwë’s eyes. He was not sure what it meant, but he knew one thing: Ingwë was beyond furious and Valandur had no doubt that he himself was at the heart of the High King’s fury.

“Let us go,” the High King ordered softly as he came abreast with Ingoldo and Tinwetariel and they set off once again, the others exchanging troubled looks. There was no lighthearted banter or singing as there had been earlier on the journey; the last leg home was done in virtual silence.

Valandur continued to ride in the back of the cavalcade, wondering just where Ingwë had gone and to whom he had spoken. The Elder King? Lord Aulë? Findis? Speculation was useless, for he did not know. He only knew that Ingwë was angry, angry as he had not seen him before. He only hoped that no one would suffer for it.

They reached Vanyamar around Second Mingling and Valandur felt a lightening of spirit as he espied the white towers of his city. Tirion was still a lovely city, but here was where his heart lay and he was glad to be home once again. He did not think he would want to leave it again anytime soon. Valandur was tempted to just leave everyone, head for his parents’ home and then go on to the Academy, but protocol would not allow it and so he suffered having to follow everyone else back to the palace.

Once there, Ingwë dismissed everyone with his thanks, ordering one of his own guards to escort Finwë’s guards to where they could rest before returning to Tirion. Ingoldo and Tinwetariel made their way into the palace. Intarion looked as if he wanted to stay behind, perhaps speak with Valandur, but Ingoldo grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged him inside. Valandur watched as Ingwë spoke with Aldamir, Sorondur, Laurelindalë and Nolondilmë, thanking them for their service and arranging for them to meet with him at a particular time to discuss what had been accomplished during the trade negotiations. Then they were allowed to leave and find their families.

Ingwë then turned to him and Valandur straightened.

“I gave your report a cursory glance,” Ingwë said, “but I will give it a more thorough reading soon and when I have I will send for you and we will talk about your findings.”

“As you wish, Sire,” Valandur said stiffly.

Ingwë nodded. “Go,” he said, not unkindly. “We will speak later. I plan to have a welcoming feast for those who were part of the delegation. I know you have little patience with such, but…”

“I will be there,” Valandur said and then couldn’t help adding, “Just don’t expect me to enjoy myself.”

“Perish the thought,” Ingwë retorted as he turned away to enter the palace, calling out orders to servants and greeting the queen and his children as they came to meet him. Valandur stood there for a long moment, watching the High King with his family and then with a sigh he made his way from the plaza and headed home. His parents greeted him with delight and his sisters pestered him with questions about the city. He spoke in generalities of what he had done and seen, leaving much of it out, such as his trip to Alqualondë. He mentioned the fire, for rumors about it had reached Vanyamar, but he gave no real details of his adventures, just assuring them that he had helped with combatting it. Everyone became excited when he told them about seeing Minalcar again and meeting his family. His ammë thought they should invite him and his family to visit sometime and they all welcomed the idea.

Of Findis or his trial he did not speak. Nor did he mention Ingwë’s proposal that he join the High King’s household, for he had no real desire to do so, or Lord Manwë’s plan to make him a Manwendur. He had no idea when that might happen so it was better not to speak of it and let it be a surprise.

“And were you able to fulfill the High King’s commission?” his atar asked at one point as they gathered around the dining table for a meal.

“Yes, to a certain extent,” Valandur answered. “He has my report and when he has had time to read it thoroughly he will send for me to discuss it.”

Eventually, Valandur decided he needed to return to the Academy. “I need to let the headmaster know I’m back and check with those who took my classes to see how far they got in the syllabus,” he told his parents when they suggested he stay for a while longer, complaining that his visit was far too short. His ammë and sisters wanted to hear more about Tirion, but his atar simply nodded.

“Best be on your way then,” was all he said and Valandur took his farewell and wended his way eastward toward the Academy. He stopped first at his own rooms to drop off his baggage and then went in search of the headmaster, returning the greetings given him from fellow loremasters and students as he wandered through the halls. When he found Headmaster Laurelassë in his study, he was welcomed warmly and assured that his students had behaved themselves while he was away.

“Hallacar and Itarillë have proven themselves quite capable of teaching your classes,” the headmaster said as he handed Valandur a glass of wine, “You may have a fight on your hands getting them back.”

Valandur laughed. “I doubt that,” he retorted. “Hallacar is more into research than teaching and Itarillë’s field of expertise is Crystallography, not Language.”

Headmaster Laurelassë smiled and asked Valandur about Tirion and what he had done there. Valandur’s recital was even briefer than the one he had given his family, concentrating primarily on the sociological and linguistic ramifications of what he had observed during the negotiations and elsewhere in his travels. Laurelassë asked some discerning questions and Valandur spent about an hour describing his findings, similar to the report he had written for Ingwë.

“I would like to see a written account of your observations and conclusions as well,” the headmaster said when Valandur finished speaking. “I think it will prove quite valuable to others who are also interested in the sociological aspects of language. You may consider yourself one of the speakers at our next convocation, which is scheduled for about five weeks from now.”

Valandur raised an eyebrow in surprise. Convocations were periodic meetings of all the loremasters and students at the Academy wherein selected masters gave presentations on their latest research. To Valandur’s knowledge, no junior loremaster had ever been asked to present a paper. That the headmaster was willing to have him speak before the entire Academy was an honor he had not expected to receive for many yéni. He was tempted to protest his unworthiness, but in the end he merely nodded. “I will do my best.”

“As you always have,” Laurelassë said and the interview came to an end.

Valandur took his leave of the headmaster and went in search of Hallacar and Itarillë, both of whom expressed relief at seeing him. “Now I can get back to my crystals,” Itarillë said and Valandur promised to treat them both to a meal at a local tavern popular with the Academy students and loremasters as payment for helping him out and then took his leave of them, stating he still needed to unpack from his trip and prepare for his classes. Hallacar and Itarillë briefly told him how far in the syllabus they had gotten and he thanked them once again for their assistance.

When, the next day, he walked into his first class, he was greeted with applause with the students actually standing. Valandur grinned. “Missed me, did you?” he quipped, secretly touched by their greeting, and the class laughed. “Well, you may wish I were still in Tirion before this lecture is over,” he added and the students obliged him with groans, though he suspected they were only for show. “Now, I understand you’ve gotten as far as Rúmil’s Theory of Syntactic Categories. Why don’t we take a moment to review? Who can explain the difference between the prescriptive and descriptive approaches in determining if a sentence is grammatical and well-formed? Marilla?”

One of the ellith stood. “The prescriptive approach states that there is a standard way of speaking and any deviation from it is ungrammatical whereas the descriptive approach says that so long as the sentences are something people say, whether they are considered standard usage or not, then the sentences are grammatical, if not necessarily correct.”

“And who determines correctness?” Valandur asked.

“Hmm… we do?” Marilla replied somewhat hesitantly.

“Are you certain about that?” Valandur countered with a smile.

The elleth nodded. “As lambengolmor, it is our duty to promote purity of form so as to ensure that everyone speaks the same way, thus avoiding ambiguity.”

“Yet, if you were to travel to Tirion or Alqualondë or into the Southern Fiefdoms you may find that the people there do not speak the same way as we. Are they speaking ungrammatically or are they simply speaking a dialect of Quenya that sounds ungrammatical to our ears though we understand what they are saying? And if they are speaking a non-standard variety of our language, are they speaking it grammatically within the syntax of that dialect?”

There was a pause and then one of the ellyn spoke. “Could you give us some examples, Master?”

Valandur smiled. “I be pleased to be givin’ you ensamples of what I be saying.”

Several eyebrows went up and Valandur smiled even more.

****

As the week went by Valandur settled into the familiar routine of teaching and studying, and while he welcomed it, there were moments when he found himself wishing for a little less dullness in his life and recognized that he missed the excitement of being away from home and interacting with people from other clans. At odd moments he even contemplated moving to Eldamas where, as with the Southern Fiefdoms, people from all three clans lived and worked together. He thought perhaps he could do some more field research on language structure. Having met the villagers of the Fiefdoms, he was curious to know if the Elves of Eldamas spoke a standard form of Quenya or if it was more dialectal and in what manner.

Perhaps he could convince the headmaster that he needed to study the speech patterns of the residents of Eldamas to have a thorough understanding of how and in what direction the various enclaves of Elves were drifting linguistically from one another. There was no time for any real research before the next convocation, but perhaps, when giving his presentation, he could convince his fellow loremasters of the necessity of such further research. It was worth a shot.

And far in the back of his mind was the thought that living in Eldamas brought him closer to Findis.

He was in the Academy library hunting down a reference that he needed for his next lesson when one of the students acting as a messenger found him and gave him a missive. He recognized the seal immediately. It was from Ingwë and the High King wished to see him at a particular hour. Valandur was not surprised that Ingwë knew enough of his routine that he scheduled the meeting for a time when Valandur was normally free of his duties at the Academy.

Thus, the next day he presented himself at the palace and was escorted to the same study where he had had his first interview. He did not bother to wear his finest tunic this time, though he wore his loremaster robe. Ingwë greeted him warmly.

“Your report was very interesting,” he said without preamble as he gestured for Valandur to take a seat, handing him a goblet of wine.

“Headmaster Laurelassë wishes me to speak of my findings at our next convocation,” Valandur offered.

“I will have Laurelassë let me know when that is. I may come and listen to what you have to say.”

“It might be very tedious for you though,” Valandur couldn’t help saying. “All those masters droning on about obscure topics of interest. You’re likely to fall asleep before I get a chance to speak.”

“I’ll risk it,” Ingwë countered with a smile. Then he sobered somewhat. “I am sorry things did not work out for you and Findis. When we came through Valmar, I went to Lord Aulë in the hope of speaking with her, but first, neither she nor Lord Aulë was immediately available, and then I was forced to wait.” He gave Valandur a sour grin. “I am not used to waiting. It’s other people who have to wait for me. Well, anyway, by the time Lord Aulë deigned to speak with me, I was told in no uncertain terms that Findis was sequestered and Lord Aulë would not permit me to speak with her.”

“Sequestered?” Valandur did not like the sound of that.

Ingwë nodded, grimacing slightly in disapproval. “Apparently on Finwë’s orders. She was not to have any visitors other than her immediate family.” He gave Valandur a sour look. “As her uncle and High King, I did not rate so high.”

Valandur stared at Ingwë in disbelief but before he could muster some sort of reply, the High King went on. “I would still like you to enter my service. I think I need someone from the outside, as it were, who will not necessarily tell me what I want to hear but what I need to hear.”

“Yet, what exactly would be my duties?” Valandur asked. “If I come here, I would have to give up my teaching and my research. I’ve been thinking of asking the headmaster’s permission to travel to Eldamas and study the Elves there. Having been to the Southern Fiefdoms, I’m curious to know how the people of Eldamas interact linguistically with one another and with visitors, given that people from all three clans live and work there.”

“A worthy goal and I see no problem with it,” Ingwë said. “Indeed, I think I need to have such research done anyway in order to have as complete a picture as possible about how the various enclaves of our people have drifted apart, both linguistically and culturally. As for your duties, I am not asking you to give up your teaching or your research. You are free to continue living at the Academy if you wish, but I may ask you to do other things along the way.”

“Such as?”

“Such as attending court and I think I need someone who can help organize my intelligence better. At the moment, I have a couple of people whose job it is to listen to street gossip and report back to me of what they hear, but it’s rather haphazard and I don’t always have the time to sift through their findings and determine what is actually being said and thought by my subjects. That would be your job and perhaps you could expand the intelligence network so that we have people elsewhere reporting to you.”

“You mean Tirion,” Valandur offered.

“And Alqualondë and the Southern Fiefdoms, even Eldamas, wherever we Elves have congregated. As High King, I need to know what is happening throughout Eldamar. I need someone to help me stay on top of events. I cannot function as High King without better intelligence. That’s where you come in, if you’re willing.”

“And if I am not?” Valandur asked.

Ingwë shrugged. “Then I will look for another, but it will be a poor second choice as far as I’m concerned.”

Valandur mulled over Ingwë’s words for a long moment. “I can remain at the Academy and continue teaching.”

Ingwë nodded. “I will only ask you to attend me at certain times. I have already spoken to Laurelassë about this and he is willing to rearrange your teaching schedule to accommodate me. I promise, I will not take you away from that which you love. I think eventually, though, a time will come when you will need to resign from the Academy and come work for me permanently, but that time is not here and I am willing to share you.”

Valandur couldn’t help snorting at that and Ingwë grinned. “Let me speak with the headmaster first before I give you my final decision,” Valandur offered.

 “I know I’m asking a lot from you, but I really do need you, Valandur, more than the Academy does. You are not the only lambengolmo who can teach your classes, but you have a unique perspective on language and its impact on our society that I think would be better served if you come work for me.”

“I am flattered, Sire,” Valandur said sincerely. “Let me see what Headmaster Laurelassë has to say and I will give you my answer in a few days.”

“Fair enough,” Ingwë said and after a few more minutes in which Ingwë asked after Valandur’s family, the High King dismissed him and he returned to the Academy with much on his mind.

****

Virin: A glassy substance of great lucency; the ‘elven-glass’ in Bilbo’s song about Eärendil.

Note: My thanks to Ellie for the idea of the mobile and the song, though I have modified her original version somewhat.