The Swan's Song by Kimberleighe

---

Chapter Three: A Transparent Decision

Huge thanks to Scarlet and Erulisse for their feedback on this part. 

Summary: The tale of Thorondun and Alphiril is finished, and Idhreniel contemplates a change in scenery.

---

Chapter Three: A Transparent Decision

 

                Idhreniel entered her office the next morning to find it already occupied.  Celebrían studied the items filling the bookcases that lined a full wall.  There were not only leather bound volumes, but artifacts that had survived Eglarest and Balar. 

                “That was given to me by Gil-galad.”  Idhreniel approached Celebrían slowly, catching sight of the gem in the lady’s hands.  “He said I should have some craft of the Noldor within my office.  I believe its creator resides in Ost-in-Edhil.”

Celebrían swiftly replaced it on the shelf with an apologetic expression.

                “It was too beautiful to not touch.”  She offered as an explanation.

Those words reiterated Celeborn’s earlier ones, the fact that his daughter had been taught only by the Noldor of Ost-in-Edhil.  Of course she loved the jewels and metals of the earth.  There were days Idhreniel studied the intricate gems and twisted metals and wished for them to whisper their knowledge to her.  To present, they remained foreign and proud to her.

                “It is lovely,” Idhreniel replied.  “I assume your father spoke with you.”

Celebrían nodded, drawing herself proudly to her full height.  She resembled her mother, golden and sure.

                “I have come to ask you for the opportunity to study your craft,” she said.

The multitude of questions ready at the tip of Idhreniel’s tongue dissipated suddenly.  She was reminded of the moment, long ago, when she had gone to ask her mother for the same chance.  She had used those exact words.  Her mind argued that logically, of course Celebrían would state her request thusly.  However, a small voice from her heart murmured that perhaps it was no coincidence.  Regardless, she needed more time than she currently had to make a decision.

                “I will give you my answer tonight after I finish telling you of Thorondun and Alphiril.”  Idhreniel offered Celebrían a warm smile.  “But now, I have many duties to which I must attend.”

As if to echo her words, Elrond strode into the room, a bundle of papers in his hands.  He paused, looking between the ladies.

                “Ah, I apologize.  I did not realize you had company, Idhreniel.  Shall I come back?”  He kept his gaze firmly on Idhreniel.

Celebrían shook her head first, her cheeks delightfully brushed with a blush.

                “Oh no, Lord Elrond.  I was about to leave.”  She glanced to Idhreniel.  “Until tonight then.”

Elrond watched the lady leave before fixing a questioning look to Idhreniel. 

                “So it is true that you may take on another pupil.”  Elrond set his burden on her desk.

                “Where did you hear that?” Idhreniel replied.

Elrond only shook his head with a small smile, dragging a chair around the desk to sit beside Idhreniel’s.

                “How many times must I remind you that I know everything?” he said seriously.

Idhreniel regarded him humorlessly, stifling her eye roll. 

                “What have you brought me?”

---

                Her terrace was filled with guests that evening.  Círdan and his golden-haired companion had travelled from Mithlond unlooked for, keeping council with Gil-galad behind closed doors until they had ventured onto the balcony.  Now, Celeborn spoke quietly with them, his expression serious.  Celebrían remained silent beside her father, listening intently to the conversation swirling around the four men.  Elrond stood apart from the rest of the seated group, his elbows resting on the top of the railing.  Idhreniel approached him first, linking an arm with his as she leaned against the rail, appreciating the sea breeze that whipped her dark hair to mingle with Elrond’s.  For a while, they were silent, both watching the Gil-Estel appear from the West.

                “Your thoughts are heavy, Peredhil.”

                “Our King has made them so, but I can bear them,” Elrond replied, looking at Idhreniel and then the small group.  “You have an audience to entertain.”

                “You carry yourself with all the grace of Lúthien’s line, Elrond,” Idhreniel murmured, squeezing his arm, taking back his attention.  “But even she knew when to dance and sing her troubles away.” 

                “I am a terrible singer,” Elrond replied with a faint laugh.

                “I find that hard to believe.”  Idhreniel was glad to see his expression lightened by a fraction.  He always carried too many burdens; he saw too much.

                “What are you two whispering about over there?” Ereinion called out.

                Idhreniel turned her head slowly, brushing away the strands of her hair that danced across her face.  She sent the King a mysterious smile.

                “Nothing of concern, Gil-galad,” she responded.

                “Let your advisors have their secrets, Gil-galad,” Círdan cut in, relaxing in his chair. 

Ereinion made no response, simply raising a brow at Idhreniel and Elrond. 

                “I suppose we should join them,” Idhreniel murmured.  “Or he’s going to think we’re scheming.”

                “His begetting day is approaching,” Elrond noted as Idhreniel turned towards the group.

Elrond followed her, taking the empty seat beside Celebrían and leaving the space beside Gil-galad for Idhreniel. 

                “Idhreniel, have you met Glorfindel?” Ereinion asked as she sat beside him.

Her eyes turned to Círdan’s companion and she shook her head.

                “Not until this moment.  It is my pleasure, Glorfindel.”  Idhreniel bowed her head politely.

                “And mine, Counselor.  Gil-galad mentioned that you might grace us with a… song, was it?” Glorfindel looked to Ereinion for assistance.

                “I will spare you my singing,” Idhreniel responded.  “But I promised Celebrían I would finish the tale of Thorondun and Alphiril.  Are you familiar with it?”

                “I do not believe I am,” he began.

                “Perhaps you’ve heard of Soronúmë and Alquinya?” Ereinion added quietly.

                “Ah, yes, the tale of the brave eagle who saves his swan lady.  My mother used to tell it to me as a child,” Glorfindel nodded quickly.

                “You have heard only the Noldorin version then, Friend,” Círdan said.  “My people have their own legends.  We do not exalt the eagles; they leave us to go West.  The swans have never forsaken us.”  He turned towards Idhreniel.  “But you shall remind us of that.”

Quickly, Idhreniel reminded the group of Thorondun, the messenger that flew on the backs of eagles between this shore and the West, and his mate, Alphiril, the swan-lady.  Dúfaron, the evil magician-king, had convinced Alphiril to come with him to his dark castle and when she refused to do his bidding, was turned to a swan.

                “And I believe that is where we paused.”  Idhreniel looked to Celebrían for an answer.

                “Yes, you were saying that Dúfaron had not clipped her wings,” Celebrían answered.

                Idhreniel smiled to herself, having finally arrived at her favorite part of this story.

                “So, with a great leap, Alphiril spread her white wings and sailed out the window, back towards her mountain home.  She did not realize the vast distance between the North and her home, and soon grew weary.  Lower and lower did she fly, until she came to rest on a lake.  Even though her heart pushed to travel on, she understood the folly and rested her new wings, hiding her face in the feathers.  The fell notes of Dúfaron’s song echoed repeatedly within her mind.  She truly worried for her kind husband because Dúfaron had threatened his life as payment for her disobedience.  Alphiril knew she must reach her mate first.

Now, Dúfaron followed her, and when she stopped to rest, he journeyed onward in the shape of an ugly bat.  A terrible purpose filled his mind and fueled his flight.  He arrived to the mountain home and assumed his fair hue to await Thorondun.  It was not long before the messenger arrived, tired from his journey to the West.  He called out for his mate as he climbed down from the eagles’ cliffs. 

‘She is not here,’ Dúfaron answered for Alphiril.  He had taken up the lady’s lyre and strummed it gently.  Thorondun approached, but did not recognize Dúfaron’s face.  He had never met the magician.  ‘Do you know where she has gone, Stranger?’ he asked.  Dúfaron set aside the instrument and stood to venture closer to Thorondun.  ‘To the castle of Dúfaron,’ he answered.  ‘You are sure she went there?’ Thorondun did not initially believe that his wife would have taken such a perilous task.  ‘I saw it with my own eyes,’ Dúfaron answered.  ‘I would not have come to you otherwise.  Let me take you to rescue her.’  Thorondun took the magician’s offer, so glad for the help and worried about his lady that he did not sense the impending danger.  They set out on their journey immediately. 

Alphiril resumed her travels once she was well-rested, stretching sore wings and forcing herself forward.  With her keen eye, she caught sight of her mate and soared towards him.  However, Dúfaron saw her first.  ‘Look!’ he cried, ‘It is Dúfaron!’  His lie caused Thorondun to notch his bow with an arrow and take aim at the white bird.  ‘You are sure?’ Thorondun asked.  His heart was ill at ease, but he had heard the tales of Dúfaron’s magic.  He could not allow the magician-king a chance to strike.  ‘Yes, he has taken the form of a bird to trick us!’ Dúfaron’s words were laced with a spell influencing Thorondun to let the arrow fly.  Alphiril evaded the shaft with a silent cry.  Again and again, Thorondun targeted the swan, believing it was Dúfaron.  Alphiril persevered, dodging the arrows over and over.  She doubled her efforts, flying close enough to Dúfaron to peck him with her beak.  The magician shouted in anger, directing a painful spell at her.  Alphiril cried out when it struck, nearly falling out of the sky.  ‘You must kill it,’ Dúfaron whispered the terrible idea in Thorondun’s ear. ‘That is how you will be reunited with your lady.’  Thorondun hesitated, his heart heavy as he drew his final arrow.  His aim was true and with sadness, he watched the swan plummet to the ground.  Dúfaron laughed aloud then, victorious in his trick. 

Thorondun approached the fallen bird, kneeling beside it.  He felt such sorrow for destroying something so fair.  ‘You fool,’ Dúfaron whispered in his ear.  ‘That is Alphiril.  You have slain your wife and listened to the counsel of darkness for I am Dúfaron.’  Thorondun was filled with such shame and despair that he could not even take up his sword to challenge the magician.”

                Idhreniel paused there for a breath, glancing at her captivated audience. 

                “Is that the end?” Celebrían asked softly, clearly distressed.  “It is so sad, Idhreniel.”

                “It is not the end,” Elrond murmured, glancing swiftly to the lady beside him. 

Idhreniel sat back in her chair, content to allow him to finish the tale.  Elrond’s voice always seemed to take on a magic of his own when rare chance offered the opportunity for his tale-telling. 

                “Dúfaron left the despairing messenger, ordering his wolves to rip the man to shreds.  The magician laughed in victory all the way back to his castle where he shared his triumph with Gwilwileth.  ‘Alphiril shall not sing again!’ he gloated.”  Elrond’s voice seemed to create the tale around them.  Idhreniel closed her eyes and found herself beside Dúfaron’s fair figure as he celebrated his success before a captive Gwilwileth.  “‘Had she but obeyed my request, both her and her mate would yet live in peace.’  Gwilwileth cried for the misfortune of her friends, and, had she a voice, she would have cursed Dúfaron.  Then, a great pounding came at the door of the castle.  Thorondun yelled for Dúfaron to come out, and to face him.  When the magician looked out at the messenger, he saw that his great wolves had been torn to pieces by the sharp claws of Aran Einor’s eagles.  Oh, such a great hatred sprung up in Dúfaron’s heart and he let out a terrible yell.  ‘I know your magic can save her.  Will you not indulge me, Dúfaron?  Allow me this trial!’  Cried Thorondun.  ‘What can you possibly offer me in return?  What if I best you in this challenge?’ Dúfaron replied.  With a heavy heart, Thorondun replied, ‘if I lose to you, then I forfeit my fealty to Aran Einor.  I will serve you.’  He knew Dúfaron could not resist such a prize.

Dúfaron agreed to the terms that if Thorondun bested him, he would restore Alphiril to her normal state, but would collect Thorondun’s eternal service if he won.  They agreed to race the starry skies; Aran Einor’s eagles against Belegûr’s fell winged beasts.  ‘I would request that you revive my wife,’ Thorondun asked, offering up the limp swan to Dúfaron.  The magician healed Alphiril’s wounds, but left her in her swan-form, warning Thorondun that if he sought to deceive or cheat, she would remain thus.  

The two men plotted their course.  They would fly to the bitter edges of the North and then through the abandoned tunnels of the deep earth before returning to Dúfaron’s castle.  ‘Then we are off,’ said Dúfaron as his beast carried him into the skies.  Thorondun leapt astride his eagle to follow.  It was a bitter fight, the winged beasts evenly matched.  Both survived the cold that cut through flesh and bone; and then the sweltering heats of the earth’s caves.  It was when they emerged again for the final stretch that Dúfaron began to lose his lead.  The magician turned his mount towards the stars.  Thorondun was so caught up in the pursuit that he simply followed.”  Here, Elrond’s voice trailed off.

                “Oh, and they dodged the stars.  Thorondun cried out when one burnt his leg.”  Idhreniel’s low voice immediately filled in before the vision Elrond had created failed.  “Dúfaron knocked the blazes out of the sky.  It rained stars and they crashed into Arda, flattening mountains and digging up valleys.  Dúfaron continued to travel higher and higher until he heard the loud cry of the eagle.  The stars had caught the great bird in a fiery net; there was nothing the messenger could do.  He cried out a terrible curse upon the magician-king, for the trickery that had robbed him of both his wife and pride.  It is said the Star-Kindler heard his words and before Dúfaron could claim his servant, Thorondun and his eagle became bright stars.  Dúfaron raged against the Lady that continuously stole his greatest achievements. 

Alphiril did not see the immortalization of her husband among the other signs of the sky.   She saw only Dúfaron returning from a distance, so she quickly escaped.  She returned to the home they had once shared with its great lake.  It is said she spent her days searching the bitter colds of the North and deeps of the earth, thinking Thorondun had been lost to the elements.  She never gave up her quest.  When, at last, her poor heart failed from grief, the Lord of the Waters bore her West.  He placed her swan-form at the feet of the Star-Kindler with a soft plea: ‘grant her a place beside her mate.’  ‘Her mate showed great bravery, my lord,’ said the Star-Kindler.  ‘What great thing has she done?’  ‘She has loved, and deeply,’ the Lord of the Waters replied, his voice as deep as the sea.  And so, the Star-Kindler granted his request.  Now Alphiril continues her chase, following her husband nightly through the skies.”

                “So tragic.”  Celeborn was the first to break the long silence.

                “Yet, so beautiful,” his daughter murmured.  “What a true love they shared.”

                “It is a much different tale than the one I am familiar with,” Glorfindel mused.  “But no less compelling.  You have a unique gift, Counselor.”

                The conversations sprung up again, pausing only when Círdan and Glorfindel retired.  Idhreniel found herself drifting off into the starry space until Ereinion’s subtle nudge grounded her. 

                “Idhreniel, you said you would have an answer for me tonight,” Celebrían said softly.  “Have you come to a decision?”

Both the lady and her father fixed their gazes on Idhreniel. 

                “Yes, Celebrían, my answer is yes,” Idhreniel answered with a small smile.

Celebrían’s bright smile lit up the room and she quickly rose and embraced Idhreniel.  All the exuberance of her youth was clear to see.  Celeborn looked decidedly satisfied as he watched her celebration.

                “I am also pleased to hear your answer, but I find there is further business to discuss,” Celeborn rose, offering his hand to Idhreniel.  “Would you accompany me?  This night is too lovely to spend so far from the sea.”

                Idhreniel ignored the curious gazes of Elrond and Ereinion as she took the lord’s hand.  They meandered down a garden path that twisted to the sea.  Only when he was sure they were alone, did Celeborn speak.

                “I did not wish to broach the subject in front of Gil-galad,” Celeborn offered in way of explanation.  Idhreniel waited for him to continue.  “All of Celebrían’s tutors have come with me to Ost-in-Edhil.  Galadriel and I are not yet comfortable with Celebrían residing alone in a different realm.”

Idhreniel crossed her arms over her chest, looking across the sea.  The clear view was broken by a lone fisherman’s boat.  Then her gaze turned to the far off mountains.  Somewhere within her, a voice whispered, ‘what lies beyond them?’  For centuries, she had quelled the restlessness of her spirit, choosing to remain comfortable beside the King.  Now, with his quiet declaration, she found herself wondering what lay outside the borders of Lindon.

                “You are then asking me to leave Forlond,” she said.

                “Yes,” Celeborn sighed.  “But I promise that you would love Ost-in-Edhil.”           

                “Do you?”  Idhreniel raised a questioning brow at him.

Celeborn’s lips glimmered with a faint smile.  An arm fell over her shoulders as he turned her to look at the mountains.

                “Yes, because I can tell you wish to see what lies beyond those mountains.  You want to see trees and forests.”  His voice seemed to create the visions of a great shadowy forest before her.  “While the Noldor of Ost-in-Edhil value the things they can gather from below the earth, there are a few of us who revel in the wonders of the world above the dirt.”

The allure was growing in her mind, assisted by the fantastic images Celeborn was creating.  There were only a few things that kept her from agreeing to leave.

                “Yet, my family has only recently grown and-” Idhreniel began.

                “And you are unsure if Gil-galad will be displeased?”  Celeborn finished for her.

                While he had admitted on past occasions that it was his wife who had been blessed with the great gift of foresight, Celeborn could see deep into the heart.  He did not need to see the future when he could unveil the truths of an individual’s motivation.  Idhreniel hoped her expression remained impartial under the weight of his knowing gaze.

                “I have been one of his advisors since his coronation,” she admitted. 

                “Perhaps it would be beneficial to remove yourself for a time so that another voice could lend wisdom to the King.  I believe Elrond is overdue to accept the task,” Celeborn suggested.  “But, I will not try to sway you further.”  He reached out, taking her hand.  She let her other hand drop to her side as she watched him.  “I believe I have made a compelling case and now, I leave the decision with you.  I will make all the necessary travel arrangements and await your answer.”

With a gentle squeeze her to hand, he respectfully inclined his head and took his leave of her.  Idhreniel watched him leave, her mind debating the choices laid before her.  While she despised the thought of leaving her brother, he was busy with his own family.  Though she was part of his joy, perhaps the time had come to venture out on her own.  The cool mist of the grey fog kissed her cheeks and she moved into the low clouds.  They enveloped her.  Her eyes closed of their own accord and she stood still, listening to the amplified roar of the surf.  Time was completely disregarded as she was motionless on the sand.   Her father had taught her to listen to the sea.  Idhreniel could clearly hear Olthir’s voice in her mind. 

“Daughter, be still.  The Lord of the Waters yet whispers the wisdom of the world into the ebb and flow of the waves,” he had said.  “Few Elves ever pause to listen.  Do not search for the horns- that is a dangerous folly- but hear the waves.”

That night, the waves had sang to her of the fog and their love for the sweet kisses of the mist.  Yet, tonight there was no clarity to be found.  The fog and its waves offered her no wisdom.  She turned back towards the city and her terrace.

As she strode up the steps of the King’s Halls, she found Ereinion descending.  He paused, clearly relieved to see her.

“Celeborn returned hours ago,” he stated.  “I worried you had been lost in the fog.”

Idhreniel smiled slightly, placing a hand on his arm.

                “I am a daughter of a fisherman, Gil-galad.  The fog is not something I fear,” she reminded.

                “I forget sometimes,” he murmured, taking her hand in his and leading her back down the steps into the gardens.  “You have become only my wise advisor, not the daughter of Olthir, the fisherman and Ninnethril, the star-reader.”

She quietly intoned her thanks for the compliment, squeezing his hand firmly.

                “Are you drawing me out into the quiet gardens to find out the topic of Celeborn’s business?”  She directly addressed the matter at hand.

                “Am I that transparent?”

                They took up seats on the empty benches of the musician’s corner.  The singers had long ago deserted the area to rest, and now Gil-galad and Idhreniel were spectators to the silence.  He took both of her hands in his, for once looking uncharacteristically concerned.

                “I have known you a long time, Ereinion.”  Idhreniel felt a fond smile cross her face as she gazed at him.

                “You have been as consistent as Anor’s rising.”  His thumbs brushed over the backs of her hands slowly. 

                “I have always been beside you.”  Her grip tightened around his.  She drew courage from him.  “I wonder if it is a disservice for you to have had one opinion for your entire reign.”

                “I am not following you.”  His expression was slowly shifting from concerned to stern.  “I am asking what private business Celeborn felt he could not discuss in front of me.”

                “Celeborn asked me to go to Ost-in-Edhil with him and Celebrían,” she honestly stated.

                “And it seems you are contemplating accepting his offer.”  Ereinion’s tone was sharp. 

                “Am I so transparent?”  She tried to smile, but it fell flat.

                There was no smile returned.  Instead, the fog crept up around them, filling the benches with a shadowy audience.  The trees were decorated with grey and the flowers lost their brilliance as they dimmed.  Soon, all she could see was him.  They were alone, hidden from the rest of the world. 

                “If I had any claim to your hand, I would beg you to stay,” he whispered.  “But I forfeited that.”

                “No, your claim is delayed,” she corrected.  “I do not leave for lack of promises.  Lord Celeborn spoke of a beautiful realm and I find my heart yearning to see what lies beyond the Ered Luin.”

She watched his face as she spoke.  While his expression revealed his grudging approval, his eyes were warm and fond.

                “There is a light in your eyes that I have not seen since Balar.”  He kissed the backs of her hands.   “As much as I shall miss you, you must go.”

                “You will barely notice my absence.”  She embraced him firmly.

                “I doubt that,” he said softly into her hair.

They remained in the gardens until Ereinion reminded her of their duties the next morning.  Silently, he delivered her to her quarters.  Idhreniel kissed his cheek.

                “I will always return to Forlond,” she promised.

                “Forlond will eagerly anticipate that day,” he responded.

Idhreniel slipped inside her rooms, going directly to her bed and falling across it into an exhausted sleep. 

She dreamt she was Alphiril and flying high above the stars.  She crossed the expanse of Arda, her wings never tiring.  Her heart yearned to return to the simple mountain home and she could just see it on the horizon.  Then her precious stars tangled her, holding her captive, and she could hear Dúfaron laughing somewhere in the distance.  When she awoke at dawn, her ears were still ringing from the sound.

---

Chapter End Notes

Characters/Notes:

Thorondun (S), Soronúmë (Q): “Eagle of the West”, corresponds to Aquila in our night sky.

Alphiril (S), Alquinya (Q): “Swan lady”, corresponds to Cyngus.

Dúfaron (S): A title for Sauron.

Aran Einor (S): A name for Manwë.