38: Loremaster, Spymaster

“Was there any specific reason why you recruited these particular minstrels and not the others, Sire?” Valandur asked Ingwë.

Once he had finished with Artelemnar, sending the youngster on his merry way to relay a message to the head of the Bards’ Guild, he had requested a brief audience with the High King. It meant waiting almost an hour before Ingwë was free to see him, but he did not remain idle during that time, working out a brief lesson plan for Indil and then organizing his notes on the minstrels.

Now, he was sitting across from Ingwë in the High King’s study. Ingwë shrugged. “At the time that I came up with the idea, I asked Guildmaster Lirilissë who among her people was available. I told her that I needed people who could be inconspicuous, discreet and good at gathering information while also being able to disseminate information in the form of songs. She sent me Amammírë and the others.”

“She sent you the failures,” Valandur stated.

Ingwë frowned in puzzlement. “They have not failed me,” he said.

“I did not say that, Sire. I said that Guildmaster Lirilissë sent you the failures, the ones who have enough musical talent to qualify for the guild’s apprenticeship and yet not enough to qualify for bardship.”

Ingwë still looked confused. “Yet, they are members in good standing in the Bards’ Guild, are they not?”

Valandur nodded. “Oh yes. They’ve completed their apprenticeship, they did their journeymen duties, but they simply do not have that extra bit of talent that allows them to succeed in becoming master bards, like Elemmírë or my atar. The guild created a secondary level called Minstrelsy and those who desire to remain in the guild but cannot hope to become full-fledged bards become minstrels. And so, Guildmaster Lirilissë sent you those whom the other bards consider failures, and they know it.”

Ingwë’s expression became pensive and silence fell between them for a time. Valandur schooled himself to stillness, waiting for Ingwë’s response. Finally, the High King looked up and his expression was set. “They have never failed me. They have served me well and I expect them to continue serving me to the best of their abilities.”

“And have no fear otherwise, Sire,” Valandur said. “I have in mind to recruit other minstrels. Amammírë gave me a list of those whom he knows personally. I’ve sent Artelemnar to the guild to speak with the guildmaster and arrange for these other minstrels to meet with me. She may not comply with the request, in which case, perhaps you could make it an order.”

Ingwë raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smile. “It might have been easier if you’d simply come to me first.”

“Easier and perhaps even wiser,” Valandur averred, “but I am curious to see what Lirilissë’s reaction to my request will be. It will go far in determining what type of relationship I am bound to have with her and the guild if we are recruiting minstrels to become spies, though I do not care for that word myself, for it implies that they are sneaking about, looking for information, much like the scouts we had who went before us into the wilderness to find out what was there so we could plan our journey accordingly.”

“Then use another term,” Ingwë suggested.

“Their primary role is to gather information by listening and to disseminate other information through song. They are not actively scouting for information or spying on their fellows. I will have to think about it. In the meantime, I am planning to send our minstrels to Eldamas and Tirion and eventually to the Fiefdoms to gather information.”

“What about Alqualondë?” Ingwë asked.

“I would like your permission to contact King Olwë personally and see if we cannot work together in gathering information for our respective kingdoms.”

“Would that not defeat the purpose of gathering information about the other kingdoms? And why not a similar arrangement with Finwë?”

Valandur hesitated before answering and Ingwë raised an eyebrow. “I do not trust King Finwë,” he finally said in a whisper, not looking at the High King.

“But you do trust Olwë,” Ingwë stated and Valandur nodded, still not looking up. After a moment, Ingwë spoke again. “I will contact Olwë myself. Was there anything else?”

Valandur nodded, looking up. “We’ve come across an interesting phenomenon.” He quickly explained about the ditty, briefly singing the two versions. “That ditty reached Tirion rather quickly,” he stated once he had finished singing, “and the new version was being sung at the taverns within a short period of time. That in itself is both amazing and troubling.”

Ingwë nodded, apparently understanding what Valandur was saying. “We are perhaps underestimating the power of song.”

“Not just any songs, though,” Valandur stated. “Popular tunes, so simple that elflings can quickly pick them up. They are easily remembered and difficult to forget.”

The High King grinned. “I know. I fear I’ll be humming that particular tune you just sang for the rest of the day and into the next.”

“My point exactly, Sire. Bards are excellent at creating long lays and epic songs, with beautiful melodies and wording, able to project their songs into visions for the rest of us, but only another bard can properly sing them. These ditties can be sung by any and all. The ability to create such memorable tunes and verses is a talent in and of itself. I very much doubt that someone like my atar could create such songs. Indeed, he disparages them. I once pointed out to him that he wasn’t above singing lullabies to me and my sisters when we were small, and he agreed with me, but then pointed out that a time comes when singing lullabies becomes inappropriate when the child has grown to adulthood.”

“Ah, yes, that sounds like your atar,” Ingwë said with a smile.

“But you understand what I am saying though, do you not, Sire?”

“Indeed I do and I quite agree. These minstrels, I gather, have accepted themselves as failures in the eyes of their fellows in the guild who are bards.”

“Yes, and I think it’s time we changed that, don’t you?” Valandur challenged. “It is fine to have a standard of excellence toward which those who aspire to mastership in a guild can strive, but there has to be an acknowledgment that some may not have the wherewithal to reach that standard, yet, what talents they have should be celebrated as Eru-given and given for a purpose. Amammírë and Calalauriel and the other minstrels need to be shown that they are not failures, that they have a special talent that few others have and they should rejoice in it as should their fellows in the guild. Not all who become minstrels need join in our network of information gatherers, but we should offer them this opportunity.”

“Yet, it must not be advertised to the general public, else their value is lessened,” Ingwë pointed out.

Valandur nodded. “Which is why I propose that this remain a secret between you, me and the Guildmaster. Only when someone is denied bardship and is offered the choice of joining the minstrels’ guild would we offer them the opportunity to join us. I don’t think even the other masters of the guild, especially those who are teachers, should be told of this. Let them continue to recommend their students to minstrelsy if they feel they cannot succeed as bards and then have Lirilissë send them to me. We can invoke guild secrecy.”

Ingwë nodded. “That sounds feasible. Let me know what Lirilissë’s response to your missive is and we will go from there.”

“And if you could have Artelemnar assigned to me permanently, I would appreciate it.”

“Artelemnar is soon to be granted squire status,” Ingwë said. “He will be asked to join the household of one of our nobles if I decide not to have him enter my own service. If I assign him to you permanently he would not be granted squire status.”

“Were you planning on having him join your household?”

“No. In fact, I know at least two lords on my privy council who wish to make him their squire. They have both petitioned me and I have not yet spoken with Artelemnar to see what he wants.”

“Then, decide to bring him into your household and then assign him to me permanently. I need someone who has an intimate knowledge of the workings of the palace. He is intelligent and discerning and I believe we will work well together.”

“I will think about it and speak with Artelemnar as well before I make a final decision,” Ingwë informed him and Valandur thanked him, asking leave to depart, which Ingwë granted. Valandur made his way out of the palace, only having to ask twice for directions to the front gates, and returned to the Academy in time to give a lecture on sound shift theory.

****

Artelemnar sought Valandur out at the Academy as he had been instructed to do. Valandur met him at the gate after being informed of his arrival.

“Walk with me,” he said and they made their way into one of the gardens surrounding the Academy. Valandur did not speak as they wended their way past beds of roses and through a leafy tunnel until they came to a cul-de-sac hidden by yews. There was a bench and nothing else; this was a place for private conversations or contemplation. Valandur sat and motioned for Artelemnar to join him. “What do you have for me?” he asked.

“I asked to see Guildmaster Lirilissë as you instructed,” the youngster said, flashing him a smile. “I think because of my livery, I only had to wait an hour instead of two before she deigned to see me.”

Valandur raised an eyebrow. “Continue.”

“Yes, well, I gave her the message and she was not very pleased by it. I do not know if it was the message itself or the fact that you sent it rather than the High King.” Artelemnar shrugged.

Valandur gave him a thin smile. “I suspect a little of both. Will she comply with my request?”

The page shook his head. “I do not know, for she simply told me that she would think on the request and send an answer later. Then she dismissed me.”

“It will be interesting to see if she does indeed send me an answer or if she goes directly to Ingwë with her complaint.”

“If she goes to the High King, she will get no satisfaction from him,” Artelemnar stated categorically, looking rather pleased. Valandur recognized the look. It had been on his sisters faces often enough when they knew he was in trouble with their parents.

“Oh?”

Artelemnar nodded. “The High King is not patient with those who question his decisions once he has made them. If he has agreed with you about the minstrels—”

“He has,” Valandur interjected. “He was most upset to think that people like Amammírë and Calalauriel are thought of as failures just because they do not qualify for bardship. He has never regretted his decision to recruit the minstrels to his service.”

Artelemnar nodded. “Exactly. His Majesty takes seriously his obligations toward any whom he brings into his household, however lowly their status. If Guildmaster Lirilissë objects to you wanting to recruit other minstrels, she will get no joy from the High King. I have seen him in a fury when one of the great lords has questioned a decision of his after he has made it. When Ingwë says no or yes, he means it and will not brook any argument once he has made his decision. Keep that in mind for the future, Loremaster.”

“Thank you. I will. I sincerely hope Lirilissë honors my request. She may look down on those who become minstrels, but she should rejoice that the High King takes an interest in them even in this manner. Now, there is another matter about which I would like your opinion.”

“And what is that?” Artelemnar asked.

“My study is too small for a large gathering. You saw how crowded it was. Do you know where I might meet with the minstrels as a group without arousing suspicions?”

“You wish to be discreet,” Artelemnar stated. Valandur nodded but said nothing, watching as the ellon pursed his lips and furrowed his brow in thought. After a moment, he looked up. “What if you met them outside the palace? What if you met them here? Would minstrels gathering here raise any eyebrows?”

“No and it is a good idea, but impractical for the simple reason that my fellow loremasters do not know of my, shall we say, expanded duties. Only Headmaster Laurelassë is aware that I am officially in the High King’s service.”

“Hmm… then the only place I can think of is a place where minstrels gather and you just happen to be there. Perhaps you should ask Amammírë.”

“I suppose I should. I was hoping you might know of someplace in the palace where we could all meet if necessary.”

“Sorry, Loremaster. I fear I have let you down.”

“You have not. I do not expect you to have all the answers, child. I do expect you to help me to the best of your abilities. Now, I know you have other duties which cannot be neglected and I have a meeting to attend to soon myself. So off you go and I will see you on Isilya.”

Artelemnar stood, giving him a proper bow. “Until Isilya, master.” Then he was away, leaving Valandur to his own thoughts. After a moment or two, he rose and headed back to his rooms to gather his notes for the upcoming meeting.

****

Valandur found Guildmaster Lirilissë’s answer waiting for him when he arrived at the palace on Isilya. Approaching his study, he found an ellon standing nervously before the door. He wore the blue tabard with a harp embroidered on the left side that indicated that he was a member of the Bards’ Guild, but while the hem of the tabard was trimmed with the three white stripes of a master, there were no stars above the harp to indicate the level of mastership. His own atar had a similar tabard with two stars.

“Loremaster Valandur?” the ellon enquired.

“Yes and you are?”

“Sairon Lenwion, Master Minstrel.” He gave Valandur a short bow.

Valandur recognized the name. “Ah, you’re one of Amammírë’s friends, are you not?” He opened the study door and gestured for the minstrel to precede him inside.

Sairon’s face lit up. “Amammírë and I are otornor. We were apprentices together with Master Hallatíro. We dreamt of becoming bards and composing great epics.” He gave Valandur a self-deprecatory shrug and a rueful smile. “Youthful folly, I suppose. Neither of us passed all the tests for bardship. We consoled one another with the fact that at least we were not being dismissed from the guild but it was a heavy blow to our dreams and our self-esteem. Some of our fellow journeymen were less than kind to us afterwards.”

“I am sorry,” Valandur said sympathetically. “Please sit. I do not have much time as I am due to teach soon. Are you here for a specific purpose?”

“Yes. Guildmaster Lirilissë summoned me and told me to report to you at my earliest convenience. She did not say why, though, but she assured me that you would understand.”

“Yes, I rather think I do,” Valandur replied, thinning his lips in disgust. When Sairon gave him a quizzical look, he shook his head and adopted a more conciliatory look. “Do not concern yourself, Master Sairon. I assure you that all is well. So, you are a master minstrel, as I suppose Amammírë is, though when I saw him he was not wearing a guild tabard. Yet, you do not display at least one star to indicate your rank.”

“That is because, while the guild recognizes that we have completed our apprenticeship and have done our journeyman duties, we are not master bards, even of the lowest rank. The guild could not in good conscience deny our mastership, but they refused to acknowledge us otherwise. Hence, minstrels are permitted to wear the guild tabard with the three stripes of a master, but not the stars. Those are reserved for the bards.”

“Are all who become minstrels masters then?” Valandur asked.

“Essentially,” Sairon replied with a nod. “The rank of minstrel is not awarded until the person has shown him- or herself unfit to become a bard but still has shown sufficient talent in composition, singing and the making and playing of at least one instrument to be granted some type of master status, just not that of a bard.”

“How do you and the other minstrels support yourself? I do not think you are all employed by the High King.”

“No. Not all of us are that fortunate. I am employed as a music teacher for Lord Lassezel’s children.”

“Ah, I see. Well, Master Sairon, there is the possibility that His Majesty might have a use for you, if you are interested.”

Sairon frowned slightly. “Lord Lassezel holds my contract.”

“For how long?”

“Until his youngest has reached her majority, which will not be for some time as she is only about two. Then he has promised to commend me to some of his fellow lords who have young children to teach.” He gave Valandur a half smile. “I find I enjoy teaching younglings. When Lord Lassezel first hired me, I felt like such a failure. Over time, though, I have accepted that I will never be a bard, but I can instill a love of music in children who would much rather be out of doors playing.”

Valandur chuckled. “What His Majesty and I have in mind would not interfere with your duties to Lord Lassezel. Indeed, you are in a perfect position to help us by remaining as a music teacher to children.”

“How do you mean?”

“As a member of Lord Lassezel’s household, I assume you are not considered, strictly speaking, staff.”

“No. Oh, I suppose in another household that would be the case, but Lord Lassezel and his wife and children treat me more like a member of the family, for which I am grateful. Still, besides teaching the children, I am expected to provide appropriate music whenever he and his lady entertain. I compose and present concerts, pantomimes and the like with which to entertain their guests.”

“And so you are in the unique position of being able to… um… listen in on any conversations in which these people might engage.”

For a moment, Sairon did not answer, his eyes narrowing as he gave Valandur a measuring look. “I will not betray my lord’s trust,” he finally said in a low voice.

“Nor do I expect you to, and more important, neither does the High King, but His Majesty has been employing some of your fellow minstrels to gather information about how the people feel about certain matters so he has a clear idea of what the public sentiment is. Up to now the process of gathering and disseminating information has been a bit haphazard and Ingwë does not have the time to devote to it so he has asked me to take over. We are hoping to expand our operation to include other minstrels who are not publically associated with the High King but can still offer their service, even in secret.”

“By spying on others.”

“No, by listening very carefully to what is being said, and even more important, what is not being said around them and reporting back to me and then in some instances disseminating information or rather a particular point of view on a certain matter in song. I am sure you are aware of these ditties that Amammírë and others sing in the taverns and squares of the city.”

“Oh yes,” Sairon said, his expression lightening. “I’ve even helped him with one or two.”

“Well, whether you realized it or not, you were helping the High King, for most of those ditties were specifically composed to present the populace with a particular point of view orchestrated by the High King through the minstrels.”

“And you wish for me to do the same.”

“Perhaps, but primarily I wish for you to keep your ears open and listen, not just to what is being said or not said, but how it is being said or not said and then periodically report to me. It will be my task to sift through all the information and determine what sentiment needs to be addressed and how best to address it.”

“And this is why Guildmaster Lirilissë sent me to you.”

“Yes.”

“Has she sent you others?”

“No, nor do I know if she plans to. I suspect that you are her answer to my request.”

Sairon raised an eyebrow. “I wondered why she summoned me. I could not imagine what reason there was for me to report to you for she gave me no information other than your name.”

“And I apologize for that. I wish to bring any of the minstrels who are interested into this little organization. You are not obligated to join and are free to decline without fear of reprisal. I only ask that you keep this to yourself and I am prepared to request an oath of silence from you if necessary, spoken before the High King himself.”

“You have given me much to think on. Do you need my answer now?”

“No. Please take what time you need but I will need an answer, either yea or nay, soon.”

“You will have it before next Valanya, I promise.”

“Thank you. If you wish, speak with Amammírë. Now, I really must go. I have a young princess waiting for her lesson.” He stood and Sairon followed, the ellon grinning.

“As have I. I bid you fair day, Loremaster.”

“And you, Master Sairon.”

They exited the study together and Valandur was glad to see Artelemnar waiting outside and asked him to escort Sairon out while he went on to the schoolroom. He would have to wait until after lessons to speak to Ingwë about Guildmaster Lirilissë’s ‘answer’.

****

Note: At 2 Valian years, Lord Lassezel’s youngest child is about 19 solar years old, the equivalent of an 8-year-old in human terms.