The Great Tales of Beleriand: Definitive Edition by Chilled in Hithlum

Part Twelve: Curds and Waybread.

It is a dangerous thing to dismiss a niave girl; for once she has a willing audience who will listen, who knows what she might say?  

THE GREAT TALES OF BELERIAND
 
 
PART TWELVE: CURDS AND WAYBREAD.
 
 
Present day: the Southern Marches of Hithlum nigh to the Mountains of Mithrim…  
  
[A juvenile girl wanders heedless under summer skies…]
 
Voice of an Old Crone: “What a frailty it is, the innocence of youth…”
 
[The youngster shields her eyes against the sun’s glare under bridged hands and with a smile of recognition she proceeds…]
 
Voice of an Old Crone: “…especially when all one’s only concern is where to find the ripest blackberries.”
 
[Basket in hand the girl reaches a clump of large blackberry bushes at the foothills…]
 
Voice of an Old Crone: “He-he-he: ripe indeed!” 
 
[A figure approaches, shrouded in tatters and bent over a crooked staff: the girl is lost in her task…] 
 
Crone: “All alone, Little Blossom?”
 
[Startled, she turns to face her…]
 
Crone: “Did I frighten you child: I’m so sorry…”
 
Rian: “No, no, you just gave me a start is all!”
 
Crone: “What must you think of me, creeping up on you like that?”
 
Rian: “No matter I am quite unharmed…”
 
Crone: “Look now, you’ve spilt some berries: here allow me…”
 
[The frail woman stoops with great difficulty, unable to reach the floor…] 
 
Rian: “Truly all is well; see there are plenty more…”
 
Crone: “He-he-he, well we’ve gotten off to fine old start haven’t we?”
 
[Rian smiles politely…]   
 
Crone: “I haven’t seen you ‘round these parts before: d’you hail from the mountains?”
 
Rian: “Oh no, I am not Elvenkind…”
 
[She gathers up her long hair to prove her mannish ears…]
 
Crone: “Well I’m beggared, one with such gamine beauty as yours not an elf: I wouldn’t have believed it!”
 
Rian: “Thank you… but it is my cousin whom they name Elfsheen, not I!”
 
Crone: “Well she’s not here now, is she?  I only see you, Little Blossom!”
 
[There was something in her tone just then, something menacing!]
 
Rian: “No, but she shall soon be here to meet me!”
 
Crone: “You’re doin’ me false little girl, there’s no-one ‘round for miles…”
 
Rian: “T-truly, she is…”
 
[The crone edges nearer and nearer…]
 
Crone: “Nah, you’re alone… quite alone!”
 
Rian: “Perhaps then I had better head for home…”
 
[Rian tries to evade her, but with surprising rapidity the hag snatches her arm…] 
 
Crone: “P’raps you’d best be-comin’ with me!” 
 
[However she might struggle the youngster cannot escape the clamped grip; the crone pulls her close sputtering harshly into her ear…]
 
Crone: “Don’t test me, Little Blossom; I ain’t as fragile as I seem!”  
 
[Whilst the struggle continues the crone begins speak strange words in an evil tone.  On a sudden something fizzes past the girl’s shoulder, directly at the very point where her tormentor’s head had just been; somewhat perplexed she turns about to see a spent arrow resting on the ground but the crone is nowhere to be found.  Coming back on herself she finds the figure of an Elf where nobody stood before; he smiles kindly and Rian falls to her knees in a swoon…]   
 
 
The outliers of Dor-lómin…
 
 
[Past noon: two girls of similar age to Rian casually talk together whilst walking down the Long Approach Road of the Ward of the Edain.  At either side of that wide shingle roadway stand rambling hills on lush fields with some small occasional woods besides.  Rising in the east the Mountains of Mithrim seamlessly adjoins the Ered Wethrin in the south, the inner angle of which has packed dense forest; and not too far out from that forest lies home…] 
 
Aerin: “My Lady, we should go back for her…”
 
Morwen: “Morwen, please, call me Morwen; how many more times?”
 
Aerin: “Morwen, really, do you not think…”
 
Morwen: “…if anyone should be milady it is you, since it is my kin who are guests in your land!”
 
Aerin: “And speaking of your kin we left your cousin alone on the plains; remember?” 
 
Morwen: “Fret not, Aerin, once that little songbird failed to find her treasure she will have turned tail long since and flew home…”
 
Aerin: “Rian was looking for blackberries not treasure!”
 
Morwen: “Ha, you are dippy… almost as green as her!”
 
[She links Aerin’s arm…]
 
Morwen: “But you are more fun to be with; we are going be great friends you and I.”
 
[Something attracts Aerin’s gaze…]
 
Aerin: “My L-, Morwen, look; a rider approaches!”
 
[They continue arm in arm, jostling and tittering as they go in speculation of who it might be; as the rider nears they wait to meet him…]
 
Aerin: “Oh, it is my cousin who comes!”
 
Morwen: “Hmm, shame it is not the other one…”
 
Aerin: “What was that?”
 
Morwen: “Oh, nothing…”
 
[At length the horse pulls up alongside them…] 
 
Huor: “Aerin, Lady Morwen, you were gone so long that your mothers grew worried…”
 
Morwen: “And here we are, safe and sound!”
 
Huor: “Tell me, have either of you seen the Lady Rian?”
 
Aerin: “She has not returned?”
 
Huor: “Hmm, so it is right that she set out with you both this morning?”
 
Morwen: “Tagged along more like, we told her to go back…” 
 
Huor: “Even so, she is not at home!”
 
Aerin: “She wanted to pick berries…”
 
Huor: “… and you did not I take it?”
 
Morwen: “No, we had things to discuss!”
 
Huor: “Things like my brother?”
 
Morwen: “What, no; why has he..?”
 
Huor: “Has he what?”
 
Aerin: “Stop teasing her Huor, and you stop it too Morwen; come on we have go back and find Rian!”  
 
Huor: “What about your mothers?”
 
Morwen: “They know not when and where you ran into us, we can contrive something later: alright?”
 
[They turn back whence they came…]
 
Morwen: “A gentleman would give up his saddle for a lady…”
 
Huor: “Ay and when we come across Lady Rian I shall!”
 
 
The Elven Settlement at Lake Mithrim…
 
 
[Rian stirs from dazed slumber on a wide cushioned wooden chair, the surroundings are unfamiliar to her, and regaining her bearings she sees that the place is well lit and homely enough.  Momentarily a figure entering the open plan room startles her…]  
 
Annael: “Good, you have wakened…”
 
[The girl makes to bolt…]  
 
Annael: “No, no, do not get up too quickly you have had quite a nasty episode!”
 
Rian: “Who are you, where am I?”
 
Annael: “You are in the abode of Annael of the Mithrim Elves, and you are?”
 
Rian: “My name is Rian of the First House, Daughter of Belegund!”
 
Annael: “You are a long way from home child!”
 
Rian: “Not so far, our kin are fostered now in Dor-lómin!”
 
Annael: “We are aware of the plight of your people and the sadder for it.  Even so, Daughter of Belegund, you have ventured far from your dwelling place.” 
 
Rian: “Please, what hour of day is it?”
 
Annael: “Twice past noon!”
 
Rian: “I really must be going!”
 
Annael: “It was by happy chance that I discovered you when I did, an encounter the like of which you experienced earlier would enfeeble even the strongest of us…  You must eat!  Here, I have prepared some skimmed-cheese and bread to restore your vigour!”
 
[He hands over a shapely wooden tray with saucer of lumpy cheese in runny fluid and three pieces of cobbled bread, the smell of which causes Rian turn her nose away…]
 
Annael: “It is not so bad as all that: use this bread to soak it up, trust me you will soon feel recovered!” 
 
[She accepts his offer, still uneasy in her surroundings…]
 
Annael: “Be not afraid, Rian, you are quite safe in my house!  Eat..!”
 
[He smiles and nods, leaving her alone… and as he goes a fat spindle-legged spider of unearthly shape silently emerges from Rian’s box-basket.  It clambers awkwardly up the inside of the wide handle, coming to rest upside-down once reaching the top…]  
 
 
Hithlum: the border marker between Hithlum and East Dor-lómin…
 
 
[There rests at the end of the Long Approach Road a solitary standing stone upon which is transcribed runes signifying the letters E, D and N.  At this point Huor and the two girls come to a halt, he dismounts…]
 
Huor: “So this is where you parted company with Rian: what could any of you possibly want to do in a place like this?”
 
Morwen: “We have said already, Rian wanted to pick berries and we wanted to talk!”
 
Huor: “And that is all?”
 
Morwen: “That is all!”
 
[He looks at his cousin; she lowers her eyes and nods unconvincingly…]
 
Huor: “There are plenty of places at home in which to gossip in confidence, but if this is what you are saying then very well.”
 
[He surveys the landscape for a moment…]
 
Huor: “The best place to gather berries from here would be along those foothills thither…”
 
[Morwen begins to titter…]
 
Morwen: “We told her they were called Eldar-berries!”
 
[Huor tries not to smile…]
 
Huor: “You told her that no doubt, Lady Morwen, not Aerin…”
 
[Morwen crinkles her nose and makes a face at him; he smiles at her cheekiness…] 
 
Huor: “I wonder then, where did you two go?”
 
Aerin: “We turned back toward that little forest we passed ten minutes ago!”
 
[Morwen looks askance at her…] 
 
Huor: “Ha, ha, ha, you went looking for the witch: I knew it!”
 
Morwen: “What of it?”
 
Aerin: “Please Huor, do not tell on us!”
 
Morwen: “He will not, will you?” 
 
Huor: “It is for the both of you to go back and cover your own tracks, I feel quite certain that Morwen’s strong wits shall avail; as far I am concerned we never ran into each other!”
 
Aerin: “Oh thank you, Huor!”
 
Morwen: “Hmm, thanks greatly: you have dragged us all the way back here for naught!”
 
Huor: “Not for naught, I now know where to start out from; with some good fortune I will find your cousin and return the hero.”  
 
[He remounts his horse…]
 
Huor: “Out of interest, did you ever find her… the witch I mean..?”
 
[Morwen shakes her head as one unimpressed after much effort…]  
 
Morwen: “Bah, the closest we came to that was in passing by some mad old woman who looked us up and down a bit before moving on.”
 
Huor: “Ah well, never mind!”
 
[She shrugs it off…]
 
Huor: “Perhaps, Morwen, I shall have better luck: farewell!”
 
Morwen: “That’s Lady Morwen to you…”
 
[Before galloping off with a ‘ck-ck’ to his horse, he flashes a mischievous wink…] 
 
 
The house of Annael…
 
 
[The Elf returns to his young guest…]
 
Annael: “I trust you are feeling better?”
 
Rian: “Yes, thank you!”
 
Annael: “See, it was not so bad after all… the cheese?”
 
Rian: “No, no, most invigorating… “
 
Annael: “Now, I have instructed the livery handlers to prepare you a horse; do you ride?”
 
Rian: “Yes I do, thank you again!”
 
Annael: “Given today’s events I would escort you home if you will permit it…”
 
Rian: “You are most kind, My Lord!”
 
Annael: “Annael please, we of the Mithrim do not assume lofty styles!”
 
Rian: “Do you not follow leaders at all?”
 
Annael: “The closest to such would be Cirdan of the Havens: but in essence no, we are a people apart and free of any political construct.  Now, whilst we wait for the horses will you take a drink?”
 
[He hands her a fine-cut highball tumbler scarce filled with clear liquid…]
 
Annael: “Here, sip it!”
 
Rian: “Mm, smells like honey!”
 
Annael: “Gently now, Miruvor is a most potent infusion!”  
 
[She takes his advice…] 
 
Annael: “There is not enough in there to inebriate you, but still have a care!”
 
Rian: “By your great kindness you have proven yourself a friend!” 
 
Annael: “That is good to know!  So then in the spirit of our new found friendship, tell me why one as young as yourself would venture unescorted so far away from home?”
 
Rian: “I came berry picking!”
 
Annael: “That is self evident; which alone is surprising given their abundance at this time of year…”  
 
Rian: “I was given to understand that Elvish Berries are different - better somehow!”
 
Annael: “Berries are berries!”

[She averts her eyes somewhat abashed by his half-mocking smile…]  
 
Annael: “However, none of this explains why you are alone!  Now, long before I beheld your encounter with - whatever that was - I heard most of it…”
 
[He taps his leaf-shaped ear…]
 
Annael: “…am I right in saying that you expected to meet with your cousin?”
 
Rian: “You heard it right but I did not altogether speak true, for you see…”
 
[A rapping at the door interrupts them: Annael attends to the caller and returns momentarily…]
 
Annael: “The horses are ready if you would care to follow me!”
 
Rian: “You have been so kind, I feel that I owe you an explanation; can we not speak together a little longer?”
 
Annael: “Of course, we will talk on the way back!”
 
Rian: “What I would say is best uttered behind safe walls rather than in the open air…”
 
Annael: “Let me guess: your cousin has other interests than you and you being curious as to what those interests are followed her, feigning that you wanted to pick berries.  I presume that your cousin was not alone when you parted company.  In her, shall we say, desire to be with this other she invented a story about special berries so as to be rid of you: am I right?”
 
Rian: “In part, yes…”
 
Annael: “I can imagine the rest; now come there is need of haste, your family must be anxious!” 
 
Rian: “I have no family to speak of, my mother died when I was young, and my father… my father entrusted his only child into the care of his brother’s wife whilst he and my uncle remained in Dorthonion fighting a hopeless cause to retain the blistered lands.  I know not whatever fate may have befallen him!” 
 
Annael: “I feel certain that your aunt loves you very much, and your cousin too for that matter; Rian, please, let us away!”
 
[She stands but something within her stops her from following…]
 
Rian: “Who is Turgon, and where is the Hidden Kingdom?”
 
[That stops him in his tracks…]
 
Annael: “Why would you ask such a thing?”
 
[She pauses, wondering why herself: at length she continues…]
 
Rian: “To answer you fully I must first ask whether you know of Húrin and Huor.”
 
Annael: “By name, no!” 
 
Rian: “They are the Sons of Galdor, Vassal to the Noldorin King; recently returned to Dor-lómin after a sojourn of wellnigh two years…”
 
Annael: “In these straitened times they were no doubt fostered by kin…”
 
Rian: “Yes in Brethil, although only until the Northwest Invasion over a year ago when report came to Galdor that his sons were missing and presumed lost to Arda…”
 
Annael: “What has this to do with Turgon?”
 
Rian: “First, tell me who he is!”   
 
Annael: “Turgon is brother to the same Noldorin King, he it is who some hundreds of years ago departed from Nevrast with of his own folk and many of our people, going to where none now know whither…”
 
Rian: “The Hidden Kingdom!”
 
Annael: “Just so: therefore I would ask again how the Sons of Dor-lómin are aught concerning him…”
 
Rian: “Mostly, by way of rumours…”
 
Annael: “Ah rumours, a dangerous past-time…”
 
Rian: “That depends on what are they based!”
 
Annael: “What… the truth… that is the most perilous of platforms for anecdotes!  But I will hear your tale since I deem you are most determined to tell it!”
 
Rian: “Well… everybody in Dor-lómin noted the manner of the brothers’ return, for they came borne on the backs of Great Eagles looking hale and finely dressed.  This is not how one would expect to find dispossessed wanderers returning from a battle scarred region, would you say?”
 
[Annael raises his eyebrows in silent response…]
 
Rian: “Moreover no news came forth thereafter, save only for the ‘Proclamation of Rejoicing for the Restoration of the Sons of Galdor!’
 
Annael: “So there was a feast to mark this happy event?” 
 
Rian: “Of sorts; though it was an understated affair in which Galdor and his family made only the briefest of appearances…”
 
[She lifts her nose haughtily…]
 
Annael: “You seem disgruntled, what is amiss?  From what you have said it appears that Galdor met standard civic requirement…”
 
Rian: “Perhaps, but many wondered still at the lack of certified statement in respect to this remarkable situation; naturally supposition and gossip roused amid the populace.”
 
Annael: “But no unrest I trust?”
 
Rian: “No, only incredulity…”
 
Annael: “I see… what else?”
 
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Dor-lómin: several weeks earlier…
 
 
[Morning: on a green space surrounded by thatched and wooden dwellings stands a series of tents of divers shapes and sizes, some are already in a state of disassembly.  There is much activity as the townsfolk busily attend to the business of clearing up after a public gathering; there is also much chatter too, and many eyes are drawn still towards the largest tent where the noble lord and lady filed through with their reinstated sons the night before.  Morwen and Rian are among the bustle too, both carrying a wooden form to the edge of the field…]     
 
Morwen: “I tire of this game; Great Aunt Emeldir would have scolded us as loiterers for news… and she would be right!”
 
[They add their form to an already building stack…]
 
Rian: “What do you mean to do?”
 
Morwen: “What… tell you, and give you another song to sing - Songbird!”
 
Rian: “Stop calling me that!”
 
Morwen: “Then stop using me as inspiration for your little airs!”
 
Rian: “I have not - do not: I will not, I promise!  Besides I am just as curious as you to find out what happened with Húrin and Huor…” 
 
Morwen: “Shush, not so loud; very well, I suppose two sets ears are better that one!”
 
Rian: “Ears for what?”
 
Morwen: “Listening of course, now I know you have mastered that art…”
 
[They both pull the same crinkled-nosed expression at each other…]
 
Rian: “Very well, I shall reshape the question: ears for where?”
 
Morwen: “That big canopy yonder.  I noticed more than one of Galdor’s household entering just now; enough folk are talking already, surely one of them has something to say about it!” 
 
Rian: “We are not of their kindred, how will we get inside?”
 
Morwen: “Ha, ha, ha: tents are not fortified keeps, we simply walk in!”
 
Rian: “And what, offer our services?”
 
Morwen: “Precisely…”
 
Rian: “Then what?”
 
Morwen: “Be sociable, talk to people; hmm, perhaps not… in your case just listen!”
 
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Annael: “So as your Great Aunt would say you loitered for news…”
 
Rian: “I did, Morwen did not; she made a beeline for one Lady Aerin, cousin to the brothers - she it is with whom I left in my own cousin’s company earlier today.  However, I would not say that my efforts were wholly fruitless…”
 
Annael: “How so?” 
 
Rian: “As I washed pots outside two young steward-hands malingering from work stood nearby and began talking together.  They spoke of Húrin and Huor…”  
 
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Alann: “My mother said that last night’s presentation would leave the townsfolk unmoved; ever the more so since it is they that are left to clear up!”
 
Daven: “Ay she was right, and I wager that is not all she had to say neither!”
 
Alann: “Ha, you know her; ever with an upturned ear…”
 
Daven: “Well..?”
 
Alann: “Turns out that after his Lordship questioned his sons he was less than satisfied with their report; it seems that he wanted to press them harder on the subject of where they had been but the Lady would not have it…”
 
Daven: “She has lightened in mood since their return, still precarious to work for though and no mistake; go on!”
 
Alann: “My mother heard from a the privy-doorman, who heard it from one of the silver service guild, that Crafty Old Galdor had a little counsel of his own; all the top brass attended, not the boys of course - nor her Ladyship…”
 
[They both clear their throats in derision…] 
 
Alann: “Talk had already turned to Eagles, finery and such before the guildsmen had finished serving; many had already concluded that Húrin and Huor had dwelt amongst Elves this past year…”
 
Daven: “Sounds reasonable…”
 
Allan: “The question remained of course, in whose house?  Galdor protested at most of the suggestions offered; you know, given his position with the High King and the consequences of withholding such news from one so close in his service.”
 
Daven: “Yes, I see… but whoever it was, they must have had some degree of influence and riches; a high degree says I.”  
 
Allan: “Somebody like Turgon?”
 
Daven: “Who?”
 
Allan: “Some mythical king, departed to a ’Hidden Kingdom’ it seems; it matters little for at the mere mention of that name Galdor grew enraged and dismissed the servants in some haste…”
 
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Annael: “In one thing you are right, Rian, your tale is based mostly on rumours and I repeat my warning to you of their danger…”
 
Rian: “Yet you have confirmed to me that Turgon and his kingdom are real!”
 
Annael: “Turgon yes, but for all I know he departed these shores long ago; he is of high lineage and his father perished fighting the Great Enemy.  Therefore, since his purpose remains unknown I deem it good that his realm remains hidden.”
 
Rian: “He sounds wonderful…”
 
Annael: “Be not overly enamoured by that which is unattainable - Rian?”
 
[She sits dreamily not paying attention…]
 
Annael: “Tell me, what did not your cousin make of this account?”
 
Rian: “What… oh… bah, I told her nothing of it; she kept her own counsel so I kept mine!”
 
Annael: “Have you spoke to anybody else regarding this?”
 
Rian: “No, no: just you!”
 
Annael: “That is well, I would that…”
 
[There is another rapping at the door…]
 
Annael: “I would that you speak no more on this matter… excuse me!”  
 
Voice of an Old Crone: “I can see why my sister chose this form…”
 
[Whilst the elf’s back is turned the spider silently jumps down from the basket…]

Voice of an Old Crone: “But she grew too large for it to be useful…”
 
[It skitters away unnoticed behind Rian’s chair…]
 
Voice of an Old Crone: “Besides, spiders are always famished…”
 
[…and escapes under the crack of another door!]
 
Voice of an Old Crone: “I’m famished!”
 
[Presently, Annael returns accompanied by a young man; Rian looks in amazement at Lord Huor, he returns her gaze with a gentle smile…]
 
Annael: “This has been an eventful day, come I shall accompany you both back to Dor-lómin and explain my part in these proceedings to your families; fortunately there should be enough hours of daylight for the return leg…”  
 
[Rian rises bashfully from her seat rarely averting her eyes from Huor, she blushes as he stoops to hand her the basket…]
 
 
The foothills of Mithrim…
 
 
[A crooked figure watches from afar as a riding party pass into the southern reaches of Hithlum from the east…] 
 
Voice of an Old Crone: “So, Sister Thuringwethil, the circle is broken but the net is widened.  The Dark One is more than displeased with your lack of report; lucky for him that the Witch of the Wood is on hand to cast an evil eye over this land…  Frightening children is so much fun - he, he, he!