The Festival of Birds

On the first day of the Festival of Birds, Jarin and Diri went to market in the morning to buy dragonfruit. Jarin explained that it was a family tradition to have this costly fruit as a special treat for the festival. They only grew, she said, in the Dome of Flowers and in the greenhouses at the palace, and not on a tree, but on a cactus. Diri noted this as a curious fact while he weighed one of the ruby red spheres in his hand and picked at the green scales. He had never seen a cactus and asked Jarin if they could go to see them in the Dome of Flowers.

"Sure," she said, "but not just now. Now we have to see the Brass Tree. Come, this way."

In the centre of the marketplace, anchored in a socket in the ground, stood a gold-shimmering tree nearly twenty feet high. People were milling about it, many of them parents holding children by their hands and pointing at the tree. From some of the branches, figurines of birds were suspended. They were made, perhaps, of some lesser metal, and painted to look lifelike. When Jarin and Diri arrived, an official looking woman approached from the opposite side. She carried another bird figurine in one hand and had a step ladder wedged under the other arm.

"Oh, it's the skytail," cried Jarin with delight. "They are one of my favourite birds. See, what's happening here is, the summer birds are returning from the South, and as soon as a type of them is spotted in or near the city, we hang their figurine on the tree. Look here, there's the willow finch, the snow-crested goose, the jade warbler, the lotus duck…some of these I don't know…there's the coalwing…"

The woman, meanwhile, had ascended the step ladder and attached the figurine of the sky tail to one of the branches. Jarin and Diri drew nearer to admire it. Its body and beak were shaped like that of a robin, but it was a little larger, about the size of a thrush, and of a silvery-white colour with sky blue wings and tail and some pale orange flecks on the chest. Its shiny black eyes were made of polished jet.

"They are sweet little things," said Jarin, "quite tame, and if you feed them for long enough, they may even come and sit on your hand. Their song is delightful, too."

They waited by the Brass Tree for another half hour or so to see if any further birds would be brought up, but when none appeared, they left the market square and went to the little park where Jarin had sat with Aluir in the autumn. That had been some five months ago, and Jarin mused how little time she had spent in Levare since then. Once again, she sat by the circular pond edged with rose quartz and jade, once again her eyes followed the movements of the koi carp. But it was all different now.

"I'm disillusioned," she said suddenly.

"How so?"

"Oh, I don't know, it's hard to explain. I've been thinking of how the Ezens had the Unquenchable Light carried round the camp each night. What might have happened otherwise? Do you think the men would have rebelled?"

"There's no way of telling. But how does that disillusion you?"

"Well…I used to be so proud of the morality of Kûz, our commitment to the New Way and all that. So it irks me to think that it's really only because we are under the influence of the Unquenchable Light. It's as if we are all under a spell and there isn't really any merit in our goodness. It's just the effect of all this glowstone." She kicked her heel at the path.

"Is it though?" Diri had found some ancient crumbs in his pocket and threw them to the fish.

"What do you mean?"

He spread his hands. "I would say the Unquenchable Light only makes the Kûzeen good because they choose to be good. They train themselves to be good. Think about it: The sun and the moon shine down on all of Middle-earth. That's the light of the Powers, too, and yet it doesn't make everyone good. Only those who look up at it and allow it to change them."

"I suppose…"

"Really, it's true. Otherwise that Tilar could have never become a traitor. If it's possible to turn bad in spite of the glowstone, then your goodness comes indeed from your own merit."

"I'm glad you're here, Diri. You always talk so much sense."

"Happy to be of service."

Jarin blinked at the sun, which was just about filtering through the dispersing misty clouds.

"It's getting on a bit," she said. "Let's go up to the Houses. You can see the cacti and we can say hello to Sâlian, and then we should go home. Our guests should arrive around lunchtime."

Since there were only two bedrooms in Margig's house, Haniven and her family stayed in a guest house, not far from Diri's lodgings. But they only dropped off their luggage there and then made their way straight to the family home. Seven people could just about squeeze round the table for soup and small talk. The dragonfruit was served for dessert, but Diri felt that in comparison to its magnificent name and appearance, the taste was somewhat underwhelming.

By the afternoon, it had warmed up enough so they could all sit in front of the house. The sky was clear and blue now, and the air smelled fresh. The weather was a major topic of conversation while they all busied themselves with folding coloured paper squares into birds. When this subject was exhausted, the state of the pottery and silk weaving businesses and the boys' progress at school were reviewed. Tulag asked Jarin about the march with the Krâ, but was soon distracted from her account when Haniven brought out a tray of dainties. One of the boys cracked a joke about the paper birds. Then Margig started a traditional song.

They were pleasant enough people, Diri thought, but he could not understand how this family could have brought forth someone like Jarin, and how she could leave behind her lungi past and live with them. He also wondered how these people, along with everyone else in Levare, seemed to have forgotten about the danger that remained in the West. Or did they just have the wisdom not to fret about what they could not change? He slowly shook his head when he realised that he had produced another wonky paper bird.

-oOoOo-

The first sunrise of the lighter half of the year was celebrated with poetry and song, and after breakfast the people of Levare took the birds they had folded the previous day in baskets and boxes and hung them up, individually or strung into garlands, all over the city. At the palace, Hamûjil welcomed Ezen Kemra and his wife to the first of the festival banquets. Majani entertained the guests with poems set to the lute. Margig and Haniven and her family visited the palace gardens while Jarin and Sâlian took Uilara and Diri for a picnic by the Quack Run. Here, as elsewhere in the parks and rooftop gardens, the white and pink magnolias were in bloom. It was Uilara who spotted a skytail boldly hopping among the ducks. But Pallando and Alatar were not seen; they had secluded themselves in the House of the Power of Air and looked into the palantír as often as their strength allowed.

The following day brought the blessing of the fields, which nearly emptied the city as the people followed the procession of the Holy Ones into the countryside. This was a big occasion also for Fimbrethil and her people, who walked from farm to farm with gifts of seedlings and received bunches of spring flowers in return. And then came the next day with Majani's bird exhibition – slightly diminished – and boat races on the canal and musical performances in every suitable venue in the evening. And all the while, the Brass Tree filled with further birds.

For Alamûjil, the fifth day of the festival was the highlight, since this year he was for the first time assisting the chief Nauran in the ceremony at the Dome of Flowers. The ceremony consisted simply of every citizen receiving a blessing and a small gift, usually some kind of sweet, but since the people were numerous and hardly anyone wanted to miss it, it still took many hours. The Nauran, the Seraphs, Alatar and Pallando each stood in different parts of the dome while the long queues filed past and the attendants replaced the empty baskets of gifts with full ones. The queues were organised based on where people lived, and Alamûjil was pleased that his queue included the people from the guest houses, because it gave him a chance to see close up the now famous dwarf who had gone out into the steppe with his father and the lungi.

By the sixth day, some people were beginning to feel a little tired of the festivities, and indeed many returned to business as usual. But one big event was still to come – the Great Bird Dance. This took place simultaneously on the market square, where Pallando presided, at the Houses under the leadership of the Nauran, and on the plaza in front of the palace with Alatar as the patron. Calling it a dance was not entirely accurate. It consisted of an array of patterns created by school children walking in set formations. The children wore colours according to their place in the patterns and each carried a papier mâché bird on a pole.

These patterns were best seen from above, and therefore the most privileged places were the windows and balconies of the palace. Next to Alatar, Hamûjil and Majani stood with their children and selected guests on the central balcony. As the music began and the lines of children began to fill the plaza, Majani glanced at her husband.

"What's the matter with you?" she whispered.

"Hm?"

"You've gone all tense. I can feel it without even looking at you."

"I don't know. I feel strange. As if something is going to happen."

"Something bad?"

"I'm not sure."

"Shall I send the children inside?"

"No, no. It's just that…Oh, it's probably nothing. Let's watch the dance."

Majani said nothing more, but her eyes roamed around the crowd, and she tried to count the number of guards. She felt reassured to have Alatar standing to her left. The lines of dancers now formed the pattern known as Opening Lotus and then wound around each other to make the Lesser Crane pattern. A gusty wind had picked up and stirred their clothing. Suddenly, Majani saw from the corner of her eye a jolt going through Alatar's body. When she looked at him, his hands were clenched on the parapet and his eyes turned up to show only the white.

"Guardian!" She shook him by the arm. "Hamûjil, quick, the Guardian!"

But before the Archseraph could say anything, Alatar relaxed and blinked.

"You will excuse me," he said. "I must speak with Pallando immediately."

And he hastened past the glass doors into the building. Dismayed, Majani grasped Hamûjil's hand. Agitation rippled through the other guests on the balcony. Down on the plaza, the dance continued as rehearsed in countless hours of practice, but a few moments later, Alatar could be seen running towards the jetty and taking off down the canal in the first available boat.

-oOoOo-

And now it was evening, and they were assembled in Hamûjil's study; Alatar, Pallando, the Seraphs, the mayor, Vilajin, Miriel, and a few others. The news had rushed ahead: Sauron was overthrown.

"And you are absolutely certain?"

"Not absolutely, no," said Pallando. "The palantír cannot deliver certainty. But Alatar and I both felt Sauron's passing, and at the same time. What we saw in the stone only confirmed to us what we already knew in our hearts."

"How could you feel it at such a distance?" asked the mayor.

"Distance has nothing to do with it. You need to understand, to ward against Sauron was the purpose for which we were sent to Middle-earth from the Undying Lands. Of the five of us, three remained in the West, but Alatar and I travelled east and found this land, which we decided to build up as a bulwark against evil. Just how that would help to defeat Sauron we were not sure, but as it turned out, we were right. In any case, our minds were to some extent entwined with Sauron's. We can feel his absence like the sudden absence of a long-suffered pain. Yes, Sauron is gone."

"But how?"

"The palantír showed us the tower of Barad-dûr crushing to the ground and Mount Doom erupting in a cataclysm. We think his Ring was destroyed and with it all his power. Exactly how, we cannot tell."

"It is my advice," said Alatar, "that the Wanderer should travel into the West to find out more. At the very least, we want to know the fate of the steppe tribes. And if Gondor, as we suspect, will have a new king from the line of Isildur, it would be worth knowing him and for him to know we exist."

"Wise counsel," said Hamûjil. "Maybe I should write a letter for you to take with you, Wanderer, if it pleases you. Well, it is hard to believe it's all over. Who knows, perhaps you will be able to visit your old home soon, Miriel. But now, the feast! It will be a true feast indeed tonight."

-oOoOo-

By mid-morning, everyone in Levare who was not still asleep had heard. Sauron was gone! And in the minds of some, who had done nothing more than wave at the procession, the news soon changed into, We've won!

Pallando lost no time and set off with Mûn before noon. Jarin and Sâlian farewelled him fondly, unsure when he would return.

This was the last day of the Festival of Birds, and after a final inspection of the Brass Tree, only one more thing remained: Setting Free the Birds. This involved taking the paper bird decorations and letting them float down the River Leva, but since many people had not the time or inclination to make the two hour round trip, many only brought their birds to the collection points, from where they were taken to the river by bini cart. Jarin's family was normally using this service, however, since it was Diri's first and possibly only Festival of Birds, and since the weather was promising to be very fine, Jarin walked with him out of the city, retracing the last leg of the journey they had taken not long ago. When they reached the river, they saw little groups of people dotted along the bank, most of them families with children. Jarin found a spot by a willow tree and put her basket on the ground.

"Now," she said, "you should look at all the birds and pick the one you like best. That one you keep till next year…or whenever. And then we let the others float."

They rummaged through the basket and Diri chose a green crane. Jarin picked a yellow swan. Here and there on the river, other people's paper birds were drifting along, slowly drowning. They set their own birds free and watched them till they were out of sight.

"And this," said Jarin, "is the end of the festival. The best we ever had, I dare say, what with yesterday's news."

"Yes. I'm still trying to take it in. It's not just that we can stop worrying about war, Jarin. It's a profound change to all of Middle-earth."

"And we played our part in it, small though it was."

Diri nodded, but said nothing further. He kept his eyes fixed on the river.

Jarin stared at the yellow swan. It was spring and evil was defeated. The sun shone, the birds were returning, the fields had been blessed. She had her father, her sister, her friends. Wan had told her to be patient and hope for the best. The Archseraph had showered her with praise and gifts. All was looking good. Why then did she feel there was a deluge of tears just waiting to be released? How much longer could she bear standing here by the river?

"So." She picked up the basket.

"So what?"

"So, now you've seen a Kûzar festival. And what next? When are you going back home?" The sense of loss seared through her.

Diri shrugged. "There is no shortage of ships to Longhaven; I can go any time. But to tell you the truth, I have been thinking about not going back. There is good business in this city for a dwarf of my talents. I have seen a house for sale in the Second Rung with a good workshop on the ground floor, and very pleasant rooms above."

"You're a dwarf; you're planning to live upstairs?" Why is he doing this? He has people back home!

"I have become used to much loftier heights lately." He grinned. "At least in that house I'd have a solid floor under my feet. Anyway, the house is in a good state, and spacious, too. The owner wants to retire and move to the countryside. Of course, I would have to go back for a little while, to get my things packed up, bring my gems so I can pay. See if I can persuade Nara to come, too. And once all that is settled, I'm hoping I might be able to offer you a home."

He wants me… "You want me as your assistant?"

"That would be a start." Diri looked at his bird and turned it over and over in his hands. "Jarin…I don't know much about the customs of your people and how you do things. With dwarves, it's complicated."

"What is?" That can't be what he means, I am mishearing him.

"Well, I suppose you would call it…courtship. So among dwarves that would require a lot of cautious probing, and very circumspect conversation to make sure that everyone's honour is protected no matter what the outcome. The older relatives deal with most of it, and it can go on for months. But the whole idea tires my heart to the core. I don't care anymore about my dignity, or custom, or prudence, not after all we've been through. I don't want to part with you. The truth is, I love you, Jarin. Do with that what you will. Call it ridiculous, call it mad, I don't – "

"Diri, dearest Diri!" And there were the tears, flowing like all the rains of spring. "I was so – I didn't want you to leave, but I didn't know what to say. I didn't know… Wan said something happened to me on the mountain that filled me with deep joy." She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and smiled into his solid, earnest face. "And it was you, Diri. It was you."

Skytail: My friend S painted this imaginary bird and kindly allowed me to write about it in my story.

Well, gentle reader, just one more chapter to follow. That chapter I have not yet finished, which fills me with a little unease, and the next couple of weeks will be kind of busy, but I promise I will finish it.