The Swan's Song by Kimberleighe

---

Chapter Five: Cultural Differences

Summary: The route from Mithlond to Ost-in-Edhil is filled with reminders that the Eldar, while one, are not the same.

Huge thanks goes to Pandemonium for her support with this chapter! 

---

Chapter Five

 

                The weeks passed in a blur of travel.  First, they went by sea to Mithlond.  Though it was barely a day’s trip away, Idhreniel had not been to the city in many ennin.  There was still a sense of somberness to its beauty; it had to be the pervasive grey.  The dark steel colored towers hovered over the harbor and the beacon fires cast strange shadows, even in the day.  The soft ash-grey of the sky reflected off the water surging towards the sea.  Mithlond was never free of the fog.  Idhreniel walked beside Celebrían and Celeborn through the city, barely attentive to their conversation.  When Celebrían slipped off, waving to an acquaintance, Celeborn and Idhreniel paused on the road.  Celeborn watched his daughter; he rarely let her from his sight.  Idhreniel’s attention fixed on a group of people beside a small ship.  Some embraced, others simply parted with a word. 

                “They are taking the Straight Road,” Celeborn noticed her distraction.

Idhreniel bowed her head, her response automatic.

                “May they find peace,” she remembered speaking the blessing more than once.

She had murmured the same to Meldilmë before she departed.  The gulls had been crying out their lonely farewells, circling the harbor, white interruptions in a forlorn sky.  She remembered the feel of the mist wet against her cheeks as she had walked with Círdan behind the mother and son.  The city had been quiet, most having departed indoors because of the drizzle.  Meldilmë came to a halt a few steps away from the boarding plank.  Ereinion caught Círdan’s attention and together, the men approached the ship’s captain.  Idhreniel stood quiet beside the regal Meldilmë, both watching the men converse.

                “I still see a child when I look at him,” Meldilmë murmured.

                “Sometimes he still acts like one,” Idhreniel smiled as she turned her attention to her companion.

                “I still see you in your brother’s clothes, hair tangled with sand and seaweed, and eyes filled with stars,” Meldilmë fondly smoothed the fabric of Idhreniel’s sleeve. 

They both laughed quietly, and Idhreniel could feel the tears biting at her eyes.  Meldilmë embraced the younger lady.

                “Do not cry for me, child,” Meldilmë whispered, her breath warm against Idhreniel’s ear.  “I am going home.”

The light of the West had never been brighter on Meldilmë’s face than when she turned towards the ship.  She wavered a moment beside her son, her hand soft on his arm and words meant only for his ears.  When she stepped aboard, it was Círdan who placed a hand on Ereinion’s shoulder as if to keep him from following.

                “The sea does not call to you?” Celeborn’s voice interrupted her reminiscing.

Meldilmë’s ghost lingered for only a moment before disappearing into the fog.  His gaze was also focused on the ship, watching the Elves board.  Yet, Idhreniel could discern nothing from his expression.

                “My father warned me to bar my heart and close my ears to the sea,” she answered.

Celeborn chuckled to himself, nodding his head slightly.  The wind pulled pieces of his silver hair from its loose braids.

                “Those were wise words.  My mother journeyed only once to the coast, and she never returned to the trees.”  The words seemed to have slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.  He pressed his lips tightly together momentarily, as if physically stilling his tongue.

When the ship pulled free from its berth, the tall stone buildings concealed its course from Idhreniel’s sight.

                “Ulu’s horns have enchanted many,” she replied.  “Did your mother go over the sea?”

Celeborn was silent for a long time.  Idhreniel watched his impassive face for any indication of the thoughts swirling in his head, but he gave nothing away. 

                “She is at peace now,” he responded, motioning for his daughter to rejoin them.

                “Ada, Elenestë says that Sorniswë is impatiently awaiting our arrival at the east gate,” Celebrían informed him with an amused laugh.

                “He cannot wait to be far from the coast,” Celeborn shared his daughter’s smile.  “I think he fears the waters.”

                “Ada, that is not fair!”  Celebrían exclaimed, attempting to send her father a stern look before it dissolved into a smile.

                “Perhaps,” Celeborn rested an arm around his daughter’s shoulders, leading the way through the city.

                Idhreniel easily surmised Sorniswë’s identity as they approached a group idle beside their horses.  He stood tall and fair, the light of the Trees still bright on his face.  His sharp eyes watched their approach, briefly lingering on Idhreniel as if assessing her for possible threats.  Her gaze delayed on the long sword bright on his hip. 

                “Hail, my lord,” he called out.  “I am glad to see you have finally arrived.”

                “It is my fault, Sorniswë,” Celebrían replied, hastening her steps away from her father’s side.  “I had to speak with Elenestë ere I left.”

                “Ah, and is she well?” Sorniswë accepted Celebrían’s embrace firmly, arms protective around the daughter of Galadriel.

                “Yes, she says her study of the marine life in Mithlond is coming along splendidly.  She intends to travel to Ost-in-Edhil with her research in the next decade,” Celebrían answered.

                “I see we have gained a traveler,” the only other lady, an Exile like Sorniswë, directed her attention to Idhreniel.

                “Yes, Idhreniel will join us,” Celeborn placed a hand on Idhreniel’s shoulder. 

                “Your name is familiar,” Sorniswë studied her intently.

                “I am formerly of Gil-galad’s court, but Lord Celeborn has convinced me to travel to his fair city,” Idhreniel replied smoothly.

                “Welcome then,” Sorniswë spared her a brief smile.  “My wife, Astarinyë.”  The golden haired lady inclined her head.  “Mirthor and Eddenor.”  The two men sat proud upon their mounts, barely affording Idhreniel a cursory glance.

                “Now that we are all introduced,” Celeborn easily straddled his horse.  “Are there any further arrangements to be settled?”

                “No, my lord,” Sorniswë responded.  “We are ready to leave.”

Idhreniel took one last and long look at the glittering sea before pulling herself astride the horse.  Then she set her eyes to the far off haze of mountains.

                They travelled north first to where the Lhûn branched off towards the Emyn Uial.  There, the waters slowed so that was gentle enough to cross.  The first few days were torture to Idhreniel.  She had never ridden a horse for such an extensive period of time.  Her body ached with every step the horse took.  She tried to distract herself by enjoying the green fields and patches of bright flowers.  Her heart already longed for loud waves, not grassy whispers.

                “Here,” Astarinyë caught her alone one night when they stopped, giving her a small jar.  “This should help with the tenderness.  Apply it in the evenings when we stop.”

The salve had worked like a charm, relaxing her tight thighs and aching buttocks and back.  Thankfully, it even smelled pleasant, unlike the chunky and foul smelling pastes Idhreniel remembered from Balar. 

                One night, they took shelter from the torrential rain in a grove of trees. 

                “Winter is coming,” Sorniswë grumbled, wringing the water from his soaked cloak.

Eddenor had coaxed some branches and twigs to burn faintly.  His soft words seemed to encourage the flames.  Idhreniel held her hands out over the warmth gratefully.

                “Quellë has only begun,” Astarinyë reminded her husband.  “It is just bad weather.”

Her words did nothing to ease his grim expression.  He moved away to stand at the edge of the trees, arms crossed to survey the dark landscape.

                “Sorniswë and Astarinyë crossed the Helcaraxë with my mother,” Celebrían murmured quietly to Idhreniel.  “He hates winter.”

                “I can understand why,” Idhreniel replied.

Astarinyë approached her husband, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning against him.  It was a while before he relented, placing an arm around his spouse’s shoulders.  For a brief moment, his lips curled in a semblance of a smile.  When Idhreniel blinked, his stern expression had returned.  Mirthor managed to warm some of their provisions for a light dinner.  The endless rain seemed to depress the spirits of the Noldor.

                “My mother always said that we should delight in the rain,” Idhreniel reached out a hand to catch some of the rain.

                “Ah, of course the Sindalië enjoy the downpours,” Mirthor’s tone held a trace of mockery.

                “Oh shush, Mirthor,” Celebrían sighed.  “Tell the tale, Idhreniel.”

                “There is no tale, daughter,” Celeborn said, a small smile softening his face.  “The rain is a promise from Aran Einor and Ulu, a reminder of their harmony.”

                “Aran Einor sends the clouds full of Ulu’s water to soak the earth.  If not for the winds that drove the rainclouds, then the earth would be a desert of dust,” Idhreniel continued.  “If you listen-”

                “Manwë does not direct the weather,” Eddenor interrupted with a laugh.  “No, Ulmo’s waters evaporate and create the clouds that return the water.  The Valar have nothing to do with it.”

                “I believe the Belain work in ways we cannot see,” Idhreniel countered, frowning slightly.

                “Bah!  The Valar have always sought to constrain us.  They entice us to go west with the promise of mercy.  I have little need or want of that gift,” Mirthor waved a hand dismissively at her.

The pattering of rain above them filled the silence.

                “If you listen to the rain, you will hear Ulu’s song,” Celeborn’s gaze had turned to watch the rain.

Celebrían pressed a loving kiss to her father’s cheek.  Idhreniel caught the skepticism on Eddenor and Mirthor’s faces as they whispered among themselves.  Celebrían joined the two men with a smile, their conversation moving swiftly away from the rain and the Valar.

                Celeborn shifted closer to Idhreniel.

                “Amroth and I once were stranded like this,” his attention was momentarily stolen as Sorniswë and Astarinyë sat beside Idhreniel.  “He went and stood out in the rain, waiting for Ulu to speak to him.”

Astarinyë smiled fondly.

                “Amroth is his father’s son,” she said.  “He spends his days among the trees, tending to their needs.  Galadriel told me he has met an onod, a shepherd of the forest.”

                “Hasn’t he taken up quarters in the Circle of the Trees?” Sorniswë asked.

                “Yes,” Celeborn’s answer was sad.

                “A Prince among the Sindar,” Astarinyë patted Celeborn’s shoulder with a smile.  “I am glad he delights in his work.”

                “Amroth has always put his full heart into what he loves,” Celeborn replied.  “I expected nothing less.  Have you ever met my son, Idhreniel?”

                “I have not had the honor yet, my lord,” Idhreniel shook her head.

                “That is right.  Gil-galad rarely allowed you even to Harlond,” Celeborn chuckled.

                “Allowed?” Astarinyë raised a brow.  “What sort of a King is Findékano’s son?”

                “A good one,” Idhreniel assured, taking on a stern tone.  “By my own choice have I remained at his side, Celeborn.”

                “Ah, there is that tone,” Celeborn laughed.  “It tells me when I have overstepped my bounds.”

The subject drifted away from the King and to a more pressing matter: their route.  If the rain did not end by morning, they might have a terrible time crossing the next river.  Celeborn and Sorniswë debated alternate paths.  Idhreniel’s thoughts drifted away from the conversation, for a moment thinking of Ereinion, and then Tirnion.  She drifted to her dreams, lost in a memory of Eglarest.

When the rain ceased, they followed the road south, crossing the Baranduin at the Sarn Ford with little trouble. 

                “We should arrive within the week,” Sorniswë announced one night when they paused.

                “Eru be praised!”  Mirthor groaned.  “Any longer and I will become a part of my horse.”

Idhreniel slowly dismounted, stretching her arms high over her head with a sigh.  The sun already dipped low in the west, a cold wind swept over the sloping hills ruffling the tall grasses.  Mirthor and Eddenor gathered up loose branches, setting a great fire alight to warm them.  Again, lembas was passed around, but Idhreniel found her stomach had lost its appetite for the bread.  She left the fire, finding a place nearby and lay down under an endless sky.  The murmurs of their friendly disagreements drifted to her, but she felt no inclination to rejoin them.  When a body lay in the grass beside her, she glanced over at her companion.  Sorniswë folded his hands on his chest, his gaze also enmeshed with the stars.  When he showed no sign of speaking, she returned her study of the night sky.

“When I was a child, I would sneak out at the mingling of the lights to see the stars faint above me,” he said, breaking the silence first.  “I was amazed, when I came to this shore and saw how truly bright they are.”

                “My mother and grandmother spent most of their lives under the light of the stars,” Idhreniel replied.  “Their constant presence was hope.”

                “They were Avari?”  Sorniswë asked, his tone betraying his disdain.

                “No,” and she knew her tone was harsh.  She would have no one believe she was Avor.  “My family followed Elu from the Nen Echui, and, when he disappeared, waited with Círdan for his return,” Idhreniel answered.  “My mother remained beside the sea, but her parents returned to the trees.”

                “Perhaps I knew them, in Doriath,” Sorniswë replied.  “I followed Lady Artanis from the west and all through Beleriand.”

                “Perhaps,” Idhreniel turned her head to gaze at him.  “They fell with their king.”

                “The loyalty of our kind is unsurpassed,” she could see the brief flash of pain across his profile.  “So, tell me, Idhreniel, why does a lady of the Sindar, once under Elwë’s rule, travel to a city where the children and cousins of Kinslayers thrive?”

                “It has a similar answer to the question: why have I served the son of a Kinslayer?” Idhreniel replied after a brief pause.  “I would hope that I am not judged for the actions of my parents and kin.  Blood lies only on the hands of those who slew their own kind.”

Sorniswë was quiet for a long time before he sat up, looking towards the quiet fire.

                “You have not answered my question: for what purpose has Celeborn recruited you?”

His keen and intense eyes searched her face, as if answers were hidden in the curve of her jaw or shadow of her eyes.  Idhreniel pushed herself to sit up with a wince at the movement.  Astarinyë’s salve did not ease all the aches of her muscles.

                “I will teach Celebrían,” she answered.

                “Teach?  Why would you teach her?” Sorniswë’s scoff sent a wave of irritation through her.  “We have many learned persons in Ost-in-Edhil.  Celebrían’s focus has always been on jewels and metals, unlike her brother who spends his days caring for the trees.  Does Lord Celeborn intend to have you instruct Celebrían in arts the Noldor alone are experts?”

His words washed over her in waves of ice.  She had spent so many ennin beside Gil-galad where none dared question her wisdom and strength.  Tendrils of doubt began to weave through her mind, wondering if she had made a poor decision to leave Forlond, if she was truly worthy of the task.  Sorniswë’s sharp gaze seemed to bore straight through her, as if he could see her uncertainty, and that roused her from her thoughts.  It would never do to entertain such ideas.  Her jaw clenched and chin tilted proudly, returning his stare.

                “I cannot speak to Lord Celeborn’s intentions, Sorniswë,” his name was foreign on her tongue and she uttered it reluctantly.  Thingol’s order still weighed heavily on her tongue, regardless of the time since his passing.  “I only know what is expected of me.  I suggest addressing any concerns or questions with him.”

He inclined his head, rising and leaving her alone without another word.  She fell back into the cushion of the soft grass, heart beating quickly. 

I should be used to such dissension, but no one in Court ever was so open.

The stars blinked elusively above her, constant in their courses.  Tonight, they imparted no wisdom; indeed, they too seemed dismissive.  Idhreniel sighed, hugging her arms around her waist when the wind blew cold.

                “Elbereth, give me strength,” she murmured.

                Once they crossed the simple stone bridge that spanned the Gladuin, anticipation fueled their party onward.  They travelled through the night, intent on reaching their destination. 

                “There she is,” Astarinyë sighed happily.

Idhreniel’s eyes quickly scanned the horizon.  In the early morning light, the city curled grey around the tall mountain like a palpable fog.  Two beacons of flame blazed below a tall white tower at the mountain peak like watchful eyes.  Anor had not yet galloped over the Hithaeglir, so the city remained partially in the dark shadows.  The main gate faced the west proudly, locked in place by white walls.  As they drew closer, she could see the dark metal of the gate provided a contrasting background for a depiction of the Two Trees that shone bright on the closed doors.

                “It took nearly fifty years to craft one gate and place it on its hinges,” Mirthor explained to Idhreniel.  “The gate itself is many hands thick.  There is no force in all of Endóre that could break through them once shut.”

His chin had tilted proudly and his grey eyes were bright with satisfaction as he spoke of the great work.

                “Such a precaution in peace,” she commented quietly.  “The design is lovely.  In Forlond, an artist painted a mural of the Two Trees, a respect to Ivon.” 

                “Lord Tylperinquar designed it to praise Lord Aulë and the aid he sent to encourage our endeavors.  Lord Artano has only increased our knowledge,” Eddenor cut in.  “He even allowed me the honor of affixing one of the branches to the gate.”

His explanation of the process was given matter-of-factly, and by the nods of the rest of their party, must have been relatively simple.  Idhreniel’s gaze caught Celeborn’s and she knew by his kind smile that her complete ignorance was plain.  She found herself made painfully aware of the genius of her companions.

And you are no less in knowledge.  The words were whispered from deep in her heart.

                “The Casári showed us how to build walls as tough as the mountains,” Mirthor caught her attention, clearly eager to impress Idhreniel with the greatness of the City.  “You must join me one day to venture into Casarrondo.  They have carved their city from the stone.  It is a marvel.”

                “Lady Idhreniel will have many chances to see our city and its nearby settlements,” Celeborn said before Idhreniel could nod her consent to Mirthor.

                “Settlement?  Casarrondo is more than-” Mirthor’s face had darkened as he focused on the lord of Eregion.

                “My lord, have you ever ventured into the city of caves?”  Eddenor interrupted his brother.

There was a clear challenge in the question that Idhreniel did not understand.  An unmistakable sense of discomfort fell as Eddenor and his brother stared at Celeborn.  Celebrían and Sorniswë both wore identical frowns, yet remained silent.  On Celeborn’s part, his only initial response was the unfamiliar tightening of his lips and a hard light behind his eyes. 

                “No, I have not gone to the caves of the Naugrim,” Celeborn responded tersely.  “And I doubt they are of any compare to the ones their kinsmen destroyed out of greed.”

Idhreniel caught Eddenor’s mouth open to respond.  Sorniswë indicated silence with a sharp gesture at the brothers.  In uncomfortable silence, they came to stop before the closed gate. 

                “Name your purpose,” came a cry from above them.

                “Open for the lord of Eregion, and his party,” Sorniswë’s authoritative voice responded.

In that moment, she forgot the dissension and strain.   Her breath caught in her throat, heart beating fast with anticipation of what lay beyond the gate.

 

---

Chapter End Notes

Characters/Notes:

Ennin: (S) Yéni (Q); 144 calendar years or 1 Valarin year.

Meldilmë: Noldorin Exile; Gil-galad’s mother, and wife of Fingon.

Ulu: (S) Ulmo.

Elenestë: Noldo; friend of Celebrían; researcher of marine life in Mithlond.

Sorniswë: Noldorin Exile; husband of Astarinyë; Commander of Defense and Peace.

Astarinyë: Noldorin Exile; wife of Sorniswë; Chief Physician.

Mirthor: Noldo; journeyman- stone mason; brother to Eddenor.

Eddenor: Noldo; one of the Mírdain and quite talented; brother to Mirthor.

Avari/Avor: plural/singular Quenya words for the Elves that did not join the march from Cuiviénen.

Nen Echui: (S) Cuiviénen.

Elu/Elwë: (S/Q) Thingol.

Golodhrim: (S) Noldor (as a whole).

Ivon: (S) Yavanna.

Tylperinquar: Celebrimbor.

Artano: Annatar/Sauron.

Casári: (Q) plural, Dwarves.

Casarrondo: (Q) Khazad-Dûm.

Naugrim: derogatory term for Dwarves.