37: New Duties

Valandur spoke with Headmaster Laurelassë who encouraged him to take up Ingwë’s offer, assuring him that he had his approval.

“It’s a rare opportunity that you should not refuse,” the headmaster told him. “That you are being offered this position when you are only a junior loremaster indicates that the High King recognizes your talent and wishes to exploit it to the fullest. Teaching and doing research are all very well, but if we have no practical ways to apply what we know, then our knowledge is useless. Go with my blessing, but I still wish for you to be one of our speakers at the convocation.”

“His Majesty intimated that he might attend,” Valandur said with a smile. “I warned him that he might fall asleep listening to us drone on.”

“He and everyone else,” Laurelassë retorted with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m sure you did when you were a student.”

Valandur shook his head. “On the contrary, Headmaster. I listened avidly to every presentation, however dull the speaker. I don’t think you appreciate how honored I felt in being able to attend the Academy, to learn the things I craved to learn, to be able to speak with those whose knowledge of things was greater than mine. I fought too hard for this and I took nothing for granted.”

“Would that others felt the same as you,” Laurelassë commented. “Well, you had better inform His Majesty of your decision. Find out what he needs from you at the moment and we will work something out.”

Valandur rose and gave the headmaster a respectful bow, then left the study with the intention of sending Ingwë a note with his acceptance. A couple of days later, he was invited once again to return to the palace where Ingwë introduced him to his children, the twins, Ingwion and Ingalaurë, who were about forty Valian years old, and his daughter, Indil, who was quite young, having seen only three Valian years.

“Among your other duties, I would like you to begin tutoring my daughter in Language and its usage,” Ingwë told him when they had retired to the High King’s study to discuss matters privately. “Over the years I’ve had many loremasters come and teach my children a variety of subjects. Even the twins are still being tutored, though they are concentrating on particular subjects of interest to them. Ingwion, for instance, is becoming a master flutist and a composer of music and Ingalaurë is studying with some of our bards, for he appears to have a gift for poetry.”

“I would be happy to tutor her Highness,” Valandur said.

Ingwë grinned. “Don’t be surprised if the twins or Elindis or even I sit in on the occasional lesson.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Indil can sometimes be difficult and her attention span is very short. We find she is more likely to pay attention to the lesson if either my wife or I or the twins are present. She is very intelligent, but she finds sitting still for too long tiring.”

“Hmm… I noticed that with some of my fellows when I was a student and I see it in some of my own students. I have a theory that we all do not learn in the same way and that some people do better learning things in one manner while others do better learning things in another. I haven’t quite figured it out, but it is a sideline to my other research.”

“Well, if you can figure out my daughter, we would be grateful,” Ingwë said. “She has proven a trial to all her tutors to date.”

“Let me see her alone for the first lesson so I can gauge the level of her distraction and then perhaps we can discuss it later and I will offer some ideas.”

“That would be acceptable,” Ingwë said. “Would you be able to give her her first lesson on Menelya?”

“Yes, of course. If you could tell me what she already has been taught by others, I can go from there.”

“I will have Elindis speak to you about that before you leave here,” Ingwë said. “For now, let us decide what your other duties are and what I hope to accomplish with your help.”

Valandur nodded and for the next hour he and Ingwë discussed his duties. Toward the end, Ingwë asked Elindis to join them and the queen competently brought Valandur up to date on where Indil was in her studies. After that, Ingwë insisted that Valandur remain for the daymeal so he could meet other members of the royal household. Valandur reluctantly acquiesced, knowing he had to do this even though he was not looking forward to it, considering that those who had been his companions in Tirion would be there.

When everyone was gathered, Ingwë made a brief speech of welcome, introducing Valandur. Ingoldo and Tinwetariel did not seem pleased by him, which did not surprise him. Intarion gave him a brief smile of welcome. Aldamir, Sorondur, Laurelindalë and Nolondilmë seemed surprised by his presence. He noticed Sorondur frowning slightly, but everyone else seemed to accept him well enough.

Ingwë had Valandur sit at the high table with his family for this first meal, but luckily, on the far end next to Princess Indil with Prince Ingalaurë on her other side and a Lady Almáriel on Valandur’s right. He concentrated on the young elleth, asking her questions about her favorite stories and dolls and such, calling to mind how his own sisters had been at Indil’s age. The child happily responded to his questions and the meal was not as tedious as he had feared. At one point he happened to look up and caught Ingwë’s eye. The High King gave him a nod of approval before turning his attention to something Ingoldo was saying and Valandur felt warmed by the simple gesture.

****

On Menelya, Valandur reported again to the palace and was escorted to a small receiving room open on one side with three arches leading out into a garden. The page assured him that this was the schoolroom, and indeed, there was a child-size desk and chair and a slate board with chalk all set up in the middle of the room with another, larger desk which Valandur assumed was for him. He ignored it. The rest of the room was bare of any other furniture save for a few chairs tucked away against one wall. The walls themselves were painted with colorful scenes of daily life among the Eldar. Valandur suspected that some of Indil’s distraction might be due to the paintings. They were rich in details and whoever had designed and painted them was clearly a genius. He was standing before one section of wall, admiring a scene of ellith and ellyn dancing in a ring, when the door opened and Valandur, turning, bowed as Ingwë entered with Indil in tow.

“Here she is, Loremaster,” Ingwë said with a smile. “Good luck with her.” He bent down and gave his daughter a loving kiss on her forehead. “Be a diligent student, dearest.”

“Yes, Atto,” Indil said softly.

Ingwë gave Valandur a nod of his head and left, closing the door behind him. Valandur looked at the child standing there, her hair braided in a style common among children with blue and green ribbons intertwined. She appeared biddable enough, but there was a wariness in her eyes and Valandur suspected that Ingwë had given his daughter a talking to before bringing her here. He smiled and gestured for her to approach and pointed at the painting.

“Describe to me what you see in as much detail as you can, Your Highness,” he said.

She gave him a puzzled look. “Are we not to do lessons?”

“This is the lesson, or part of it,” he said. “Now, tell me what you see.”

She glanced at the painting and gave a small shrug. “Ellith and ellyn.”

“And what are they doing?”

“Dancing.”

“Do you know what type of dance? Can you tell just from the painting? Would you need to know the music to which they are dancing? What do you think?”

Indil’s eyes widened as if she had never had anyone ask for her thoughts before. She took a longer look at the painting and her expression became more thoughtful. “It’s a harvest dance. See you the hayricks in the distance? They are celebrating the end of the harvest and….”

Valandur listened carefully to her recitation as she began to notice more details. She even entertained him with a harvest song, her sweet child’s voice lifted up in joyful praise. When she had told him as much about the painting as she could he nodded.

“Very good. Now, let us see what we can do with all that you have told me. Come sit, and I see we have plenty of foolscap and here is your quill. What I would like you to do is write me a story about that painting.”

“What kind of story?” Indil asked, scrunching her face in confusion.

“Any story you like,” Valandur answered, deliberately being vague, “so long as it relates to this particular painting and no other that is on the walls.”

The child still looked confused. “I thought we were having lessons.”

“And what lessons did you think you would be having?”

“Oh, boring stuff about grammar and diction and, you know, lessons!”

Valandur smiled at her emphasis on the word. “Well, we’ll get to that eventually, but for now, I want you to write me a story about that painting. I will give you until Laurelin is at her full blossoming.”

Indil automatically glanced toward the arches to gauge the strength of the light streaming into the room, calculating how much time he was giving her before she took up her quill and dipped it into the inkwell, then carefully beginning to write. Valandur ignored her, walking over to look out at the garden and breathe in the heady scent of roses and honeysuckle. He remained there until Laurelin’s light was at its fullest before returning to where Indil was still writing.

“Finish up, Your Highness, and then you may read me your story.”

“Out loud?” she asked in surprise.

“Most stories are told out loud,” he replied. “It is why we have storytellers and not storyreaders.”

She nodded and went back to writing a few more sentences before announcing that she was done. Valandur brought the chair from behind his desk, setting it before her and sitting. “So, let us hear your story.” He gestured for her to stand and she did, suddenly looking shy.

“It’s not a very good story,” she admitted. “I’m not good at telling stories. Ingwi and Ingil are good at telling stories. They’re good at everything.” And the way she said that alerted Valandur to the possibility that the twins were being upheld as examples of excellence for her to strive for, and that she probably felt incompetent.

“They are also many years older than you,” Valandur pointed out. “I doubt they were very good storytellers at your age either. It is a skill like any other and has to be developed over time. I do not expect you to have the same level of skill as your brothers or anyone else who is very much older than you. I do expect you to do your very best to hone your abilities to their fullest. You may not have a gift for storytelling such as the bards do. Neither do I, but we can all of us tell stories. Now let us hear yours.”

Indil nodded and picked up the foolscap and began reading out loud. “Why the Valar Dance. When the Eldar first came to the shores of Valinor there was no grain for them to harvest, no fruit for them to pick, all was wilderness. So the Valar came together and said to one another, Let us bring forth grain and fruit for the Firstborn and….”

Valandur listened with a smile as Indil spun her tale. All the ellith in the painting became Valier and all the ellyn, Valar, never mind that there were only three of each depicted in the painting. Indil decided that the Valier would be Yavanna, Vána and Varda, while the Valar were their respective spouses. It was a delightful tale and when she came to the end of it, Valandur clapped in approval.

“A very good story, Your Highness,” he said and Indil blushed. “Now, let us look at your story more closely and see how we may improve it, for I fear I heard some rather, shall we say, not-quite-correct sentences.”

Indil sighed, looking a little defeated, and Valandur chuckled. “Trust me. It’s not quite as bad as that. It was a wonderful story and you have a great imagination. Now, can you find me a sentence with a compound subject?”….

****

“She’s quite intelligent, Your Majesties, but I think she fears she is a disappointment to you,” Valandur said to Ingwë and Elindis some time later. They were gathered in Ingwë’s study discussing Indil over some wine, cheese and fruit.

“Why would she think that?” Elindis demanded, looking troubled.

“She constantly told me how much better her brothers were at doing anything I asked her to do, whether it was telling me a story or parsing sentences. I pointed out the fact that her brothers are ever so much older than she and have had lots of practice to get things right, but I don’t think I have convinced her completely that she is quite good at what she is able to do for her age. I think part of her inability to pay attention is the belief that no matter what she does, nothing she does would compare to what her brothers can do.”

“And we have not helped matters by constantly harping on how good the twins are at doing things, have we?” Ingwë said ruefully.

Valandur shrugged. “She knows you love her, but she fears that she has to earn that love because she is not as good at doing things as her brothers, who apparently can do no wrong in your eyes.”

“Well, that’s just silly,” Ingwë retorted with a huff. “Those two were terrors growing up. I even had to ask Lord Manwë for the loan of one of his Maiar to help keep track of them.”

“Well, perhaps if you told her that, she would see things differently,” Valandur said with a grin. He pulled out Indil’s story which he had tucked into his belt after dismissing the child for the day and handed it to Ingwë. “Here. She wrote this story based on one of the paintings in the schoolroom. I think you will find it quite delightful.”

Ingwë took the pages and began reading with Elindis looking over his shoulder. Valandur sipped on the wine and nibbled on some cheese and grapes while they read. When they came to the end they both looked at him in surprise.

“She wrote this?” Elindis asked.

“Yes, and as I said, based on one of the paintings. I did not tell her what to write. I told her to write any story she wished just so long as it related to that particular painting and no other. I think she did quite well myself, and there were only a few grammatical errors. This is the corrected copy. I had her rewrite the story to help reinforce what she learned about proper sentence formation.”

“And that was the lesson?” Ingwë asked.

“Oh, I had had a lesson plan already in place, primarily aimed at gauging her level of linguistic competence, but when I saw the paintings, I changed the lesson. It still told me what I needed to know, but it was less a trial for her and more fun for me.”

Both royals chuckled and then they were thanking Valandur, assuring him that they were pleased with what he had accomplished with their daughter. “We will ask her to read her story to us when we gather together later after the daymeal and we will endeavor to assure her that she does not have to earn our love, that she has it always.”

“And perhaps if we told her some of the things the twins did at her age that had us running to the Valar for help, she will even believe us,” Elindis suggested and Ingwë nodded.

“Thank you,” he said. “I have arranged for you to meet with some of my people who presently listen to street gossip and such for me. Organize them as you will. One of the pages will show you to the study I have set aside for your use. Once you are done with that, you are free for the day. You may return at the same time on Isilya.”

Ingwë picked up a small bell and rang it. Almost immediately, the door opened to reveal a young ellon who was almost at his majority dressed in page’s livery. “Please escort Loremaster Valandur to his study, Artelemnar,” the High King ordered and Valandur took his leave of the royal couple, following Artelemnar down another hallway to a particular door.

“Here is your study, Loremaster. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to let me know. I’ve been assigned to attend to you for the time being. The nearest privies from here are around the corner and if you require refreshments, there is a buttery that serves this part of the palace. You only need ring the bell and I will come.”

“It has to be rather boring for you to just stand or sit around doing nothing though,” Valandur couldn’t help saying, feeling somewhat uneasy about having anyone attending to him hand and foot.

Artelemnar shrugged. “All part of being a page, my lord.”

“Well, I am told that I will be meeting with several people shortly. Do you know how many?”

“I believe six or eight, my lord.”

“Well, then, go you to the buttery and arrange for food and drink to be brought here. I am not sure how long this meeting will last but we might as well be comfortable while we’re at it.” He gave Artelemnar a smile and a wink and the ellon smiled back.

“I will see to everything, my lord.” He gave Valandur a bow and made his way back down the hall while Valandur went inside.

The study was not overly large but it was well appointed. He feared, though, that having six or eight additional people in the room would make for tight quarters. There were only three chairs besides the one behind the desk and no real room for others, so most would have to stand. He was still examining the shelves of books that lined one wall when there was a knock on the door.

“Enter!” he called and when the door opened he saw two ellyn and an ellith standing there. “Ah, come in, come in. As you are the first to arrive, you may lay claim to the chairs. I believe I can expect more of you?”

“Yes, sir,” one of the ellyn answered. “There are seven of us altogether.”

“Good. I’ve had refreshments sent for so we can take our ease. Now, while we are waiting for your fellows why don’t you introduce yourselves.”

The three gave him their names and Valandur learned that they were all minstrels, members of the Bards’ Guild who wandered through the city and the surrounding farms trading songs and news. Some of them also traveled to Eldamas from what the elleth told him. As they were speaking the other four minstrels — two ellith and two ellyn — arrived and made introductions. Artelemnar returned with a loaded tray which Valandur had him set on the sideboard, inviting everyone to help themselves. Artelemnar started to leave but Valandur bade him to stay.

“Find a corner and listen carefully,” he told the youngster. “I will quiz you afterwards.”

Artelemnar gave him a surprised look but did as he was bid, looking decidedly uncomfortable. The minstrels ignored him as they concentrated on providing Valandur with the information he sought from them.

“Our duties are primarily to gather gossip and report back to His Majesty,” one of the ellyn explained. He had introduced himself as Amammíré, and he was the senior minstrel in their group. “We also compose songs which we sing throughout the city and the surrounding farms.”

“Any songs in particular?” Valandur asked.

“Oh, you’ve heard them, I’m sure,” Amammíré said with a grin and he began singing a little ditty that Valandur recognized. Almost automatically he reached for a quill and some paper and began writing down the words.

“Sing it again, slowly,” he ordered when the minstrel came to the end of the song.

“Whyever for?” the ellon demanded. “It’s one of dozens of such ditties that we sing all the time when His Majesty wishes for a certain sentiment to be disseminated among the citizens.”

“Still, I would appreciate it if you would repeat the verses,” Valandur said and after a moment’s hesitation the minstrel complied. When he had finished transcribing the song, Valandur took a few minutes to make some notations and changes in the words, while everyone else just sat or stood silently watching him. He noticed, but ignored, the exchange of scowls between the minstrels. Artelemnar, standing by the door, looked on with unfeigned interest. “Here,” Valandur said, handing the paper to Amammírë. “Notice the changes.”

The minstrel glanced over the verses, his eyes widening. Several of his fellows leaned over his shoulders to read while those who could not see were demanding to know what the changes were. Amammíré finally passed the sheet to one of his fellows as he addressed Valandur, giving him a sardonic smile. “And are you attempting to improve on that particular song, Loremaster?”

“No,” Valandur replied, steepling his fingers as he placed his elbows on the desk. “That’s the version of the song I heard being sung in Tirion.”

“What?!” more than one voice exclaimed.

“Tirion?” Amammírë demanded. “But that’s impossible!”

“And why is that?” Valandur asked.

“Because that song is very recent. We started singing it, what? Three weeks ago?” Several people nodded in agreement.

“And we only sang it a few times,” one of the ellith, whose name was Calalauriel, added.

“Well a week before I left Tirion I was hearing that particular version using the very same tune while sitting in the Rose and Crown having a meal. It was rather amusing and I thought the phrasing quite clever.”

“But how… and why?” Amammírë asked, looking confused. “These ditties serve a specific purpose: to encourage a particular sentiment which His Majesty wishes the populace to adopt. This version you say is being sung in Tirion serves no purpose but to entertain its listeners and apparently at our expense. ‘Golden-haired dreamers’ indeed.” He snorted in contempt. “Do these Noldor think we all just sit around with vacuous smiles on our faces?”

Valandur grinned. “Just about, but that’s not the point. The point is, that ditty was picked up by someone and brought to Tirion. Yes, the wording was changed, but not the tune, which I assume is original?”

All the minstrels nodded. “We purposely use simple melodies that even elflings can easily pick up on,” Calalauriel explained. “We’ve even recycled melodies that prove the most popular and the most memorable.” She began humming a tune which Valandur recognized as a popular drinking song and nodded.

“Well, I’m going to send a few of you to Eldamas and Tirion,” he said. “Go to the inns and taverns. Listen to what is being sung and make a notation of any changes in songs that you know originated here in Vanyamar.”

“And why should we do this?” Amammírë asked with a frown.

“Because His Majesty has asked me to organize you lot to gather intelligence, not gossip. He wishes to have better and more timely information about what is happening throughout Eldamar, not just here in Vanyamar. If that little ditty Amammírë sang has reached Tirion already, what other ditties are there out there and how have they been changed and were the changes made to accommodate the sensibilities of the intended audience or were they made for a specific purpose, the way this particular ditty was altered to poke fun at us Vanyar? We also need people in the Southern Fiefdoms, but we’ll worry about them later. Right now they’re too busy trying to rebuild after the fire that devastated half the region. Amammírë, how many minstrels belong to the Bards’ Guild, do you know?”

“Not including us, there are about a dozen or so more whom I know personally. We’re a specialized branch of the guild. None of us have the talent needed to become full-fledged bards, but we love to sing and play music and we have just enough talent between us to be able to compose small ditties, not epics.” For the first time, the ellon actually appeared embarrassed and a few of the others also looked equally shamed.

Valandur gave them a sympathetic smile. “Do not disparage that talent, my friends. Rejoice that His Majesty saw a need and found you to help him obtain it. We’re just going to take your little talents and expand them. Bards are all fine and good and serve a purpose in preserving our history in epic songs and remembering our laws, but minstrels provide us with entertainment to help lighten our cares and that is no small gift. Now, I want you to give me the names of every minstrel you know and what his or her particular talents may be. I will have to consult with the head guildmaster about recruiting them, but I doubt that will be a problem. So… let us begin.” He reached for more paper and sharpened his quill.

While he was doing that, the minstrels consulted with one another and then Amammírë, with some encouragement from the others, began naming all the other minstrels. Once he had his list, Valandur dismissed them, saying he would be speaking to each of them individually over the next few weeks to get to know them better.

“For now, continue as you have been, but you will report to me rather than to His Majesty,” he told them as they were leaving. “If you need me but cannot find me, seek out Artelemnar. He has been assigned to me as my personal page. He will relay your message.”

The minstrels all gave the young page discerning looks and Valandur had no doubt they were memorizing his face. When the minstrels were all gone, Valandur gestured for Artelemnar to take a seat. “Now then, tell me your impressions of those minstrels,” he said when the ellon was settled. “What did you think of them?”

Artelemnar raised an eyebrow but complied readily enough. “They do not see themselves as important. They do not see themselves as bards, only as songsters.”

“And you and I have our work cut out in convincing them otherwise,” Valandur said, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, we have much work ahead of us.”

“Us, my lord?”

“Oh, yes, indeed, my young page. I could not possibly do this without you.” Valandur gave the ellon a bright smile which Artelemnar returned, straightening in pride. “Now, here is what we need to do next….”

****

Note: Ingwion and Ingalaurë are 383 solar years old or 39.9 Valian years, while at 3 Valian years, Indil is about 29 solar years old, making her (in human terms) about 12.