The Swan's Song by Kimberleighe

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Chapter Seven

Summary: Includes introductions to characters familiar and new, a party, and wishes of luck and fortune!

Big thanks to Scarlet, Pandemonium_213 and Elfscribe for their sharp eyes and minds!

Extra thanks to pandemonium for allowing me to utilize some terms from her stories.

 

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Chapter Seven: Fortunate Circumstances

 

                After an indulgently long soak in a hot bath and then an equally luxurious nap on a feather pillow and mattress, Idhreniel emerged from her room as the sun began its final descent into the West.  She wandered down the hall towards the vacillating murmur of voices.  In the sitting room beside its glass wall stood a man and woman, similar enough in features to be siblings, and obviously related to Sorniswë.  They were both taller than Idhreniel with dark hair which bordered on ebony in color.  Upon seeing Idhreniel, the man moved deftly towards her, his black robes barely making a noise.

                “Welcome, Lady Idhreniel.  We’ve been waiting to meet you.”  His resemblance to Sorniswë ended when he smiled.  “I am Erestor, and,” he paused, glancing at the lady.  “My sister, Aurendis.”

                “Yes, your father spoke about both of you.”  Idhreniel allowed him to guide her towards the exquisite Aurendis.  “It is a pleasure to meet both of you.”

It was hard to believe this was a lady that spent her days immersed in dirt.  Her dress was a luscious ivory silk and precisely clung to the curve of her body.  A clear stone glittered at her throat; the fragrance of sweet roses hung around her.  When Aurendis took Idhreniel’s hand, she felt the strength behind the gardener’s grasp. 

                “Did you rest well?” Aurendis asked with a friendly smile.

                “Yes, thank you.  It was lovely to sleep in a bed,” Idhreniel answered honestly.

                “I can only imagine.  Amil tries to convince me to travel to Forlond- the King’s gardens are apparently a thing to behold- but I cannot entertain the thought of sleeping on the ground for weeks,” Aurendis replied breezily.

                “I thought it was the rations of lembas and weeks of riding you detested.”  Erestor earned an irritated sigh from his sister.

                “He always has to be right.  It’s what makes him a passable prosecutor but an exasperating little brother.”  She smiled at him fondly.

                “Ah, passable supervising prosecutor, if you please.  I was recently promoted,” he replied matter-of-factly.  Idhreniel found Erestor’s voice pleasing to the ear; his fluid tone seemed well-practiced.  “Now, we are expected in the Lady’s Halls.  She is celebrating her husband’s timely return from Forlond.  Atar and Amil asked us to accompany you.”

Idhreniel found herself suddenly sandwiched between the two as they led her out of the residence and onto the street.  The siblings carried on their lively banter, reminding her of past conversations with her brother.  This City, though far removed from Eglarest in both distance and time, had returned her to childhood.  Unbidden memories sprang to mind and brought a semi-sad smile to her lips.

                Idhreniel’s gaze drifted from the street and its white walls with splashes of primary colors trimming windows and archways.  Tall lampposts lit the way, spaced so that the halos of light shadowed on the street resembled an endless strand of pearls.  Most of the citizens seemed to have already retired indoors for dinner, so the main avenue was nearly empty.  When she looked up, her steps came to a complete standstill and her lips parted in absolute amazement.  Aurendis and Erestor paused in mid-sentence and looked up startled, having been immersed in their banter.  Here, in the shadow of the mountain, it seemed as if the stars descended to float within reach.  Perhaps this was partly aided by Ithil’s absence, but Idhreniel felt as if the heavens had chosen to finally reveal all her secrets.  Her heart was lit with the mad desire to return to her room and immediately begin charting this new sky.

                “Lady Idhreniel?”  Erestor spoke first, his curious concern apparent in his voice.

That broke Idhreniel from her trance.

                “Is your view always so bright?” she asked, motioning to the sky.

                “Amil says the Lady shines her favor upon our City,” Aurendis began.  “Arvadhor insists it is the position of the City in proximity to the orbit of the stars.”

                “Is that still his argument?” Erestor frowned, shaking his head.  “Istyar Tinuthel shall rip his proposal to shreds.”

Aurendis’ fair face quickly clouded with dispute as she glared at her brother.  Idhreniel cleared her throat before the lady could speak, diverting the siblings’ attention.

                “Who is Istyar Tinuthel?” she asked.

                They began to walk again, though no longer as a linked trio.  Erestor clasped his hands behind his back, clearly waiting for his sister to answer the question. 

                “Istyar Tinuthel is the chief of the Guild of the Sky, and acts as a mentor to mainly the elendili, but also to those who study storm-lore and its practical applications,” Aurendis answered.  “Arvadhor was selected for a decade long apprenticeship with Eleñolmo Sarnhir, one of the most skilled melendil in the City.  He presents his findings next month.”

Idhreniel found herself pleasantly amused by the Golodhren instinct to form small bubbles of high academia.  Aurendis elaborated briefly on the Otornassë Meneliva, a brotherhood of only the brightest scholars within the Guild.  Idhreniel intended to inquire further as to the number of elendili within the city and Arvadhor’s apprenticeship when the sweet sound of bells echoed through the streets.  It began softly and mustered to a momentous crescendo.  The air vibrated with music, and Idhreniel unexplainably felt a surge of power sweep up from her toes.  As long as the bells echoed, so the gentle swell of energy thrummed through her.  It was a novel experience, being connected to the earth and its secrets.  It was easy to feel the might of the sea when Gaerys raged and his wife could not restrain him; the air would palpably crackle with his strength.

                “They are closing the gates,” Erestor explained, seemingly unbothered by the bells.  “It is a final call to any of our people outside the walls.”

                “And what of the Thinnil outside the gates?” Idhreniel asked. 

                “Then it is a reminder that the City is closed to them,” Erestor answered.

Idhreniel wondered if the gates were the only implicit reminder.  As they drew closer to the peak of the City, her gaze followed the slim lines of the tall tower.  She gaped in awe when she saw the silver-blue light pouring from the pinnacle now unencumbered by clouds.

                “You must go to the top and see the jewel,” Aurendis said softly.  “It is amazing, that such a small thing is responsible for that great light.”

                “Is it one of Fëanor’s?”  Idhreniel asked.

                “The last of its kind.”  Erestor’s tone was wistful.  “We must hope its light never fails.  Atar says the secrets of its making were left behind in Aman.”

                They swept up the stairs and through the Lady’s Halls, exiting into a vast courtyard doused golden with a thousand little lights strung among the planters.  For a moment, it felt like a familiar scene out of Forlond.  Courtiers mingled with their wine glasses in pockets of policy and power.  Jewels gleamed bright around necks and waists, and every person seemed resplendent in high finery.  Idhreniel swiftly caught sight of Astarinyë and Sorniswë standing tall and bright among the other courtiers.  Neither had bothered with jewels; the light of the West proved to be a more brilliant adornment.  Astarinyë spied them immediately, briskly beckoning them to join her.  Erestor offered an arm to each lady, gallantly escorting them across the courtyard.  Idhreniel caught a few eyes descending upon her curiously.  She had expected as much, given her unfamiliar appearance.  Already, she had schooled her expression into its familiar placid mask.

                “The Commander looks to be in an especially formidable mood,” Idhreniel caught Aurendis’ murmur.

                “When is he not?” Erestor chuckled. 

Astarinyë greeted her children with brief hugs, sparing a smile for Idhreniel.

                “I hope my husband…” the last word was said with a slight emphasis, obviously intending to draw Sorniswë’s attention.  “…did not bother you too much with his budgetary troubles.”

Sorniswë’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at his wife.  Idhreniel swiftly placed a hand on Astarinyë’s elbow with a gracious smile.

                “That was no trouble at all, Lady.  In fact, compared to the numbers I am usually balancing, it was relatively relaxing,” Idhreniel reassured her. 

                “You and I have much different definitions of relaxation then,” Astarinyë noted with a short laugh.

                “This is quite a gathering.”  Idhreniel chose to steer the conversation in a stream that did not involve an irritated Commander.

                “We must introduce you.”  Aurendis’ eyes brightened, and she was already scanning the crowd, as if mapping out the most efficient route.

                “I think Lady Idhreniel will have a difficult time remaining anonymous in this crowd,” Erestor replied dryly. 

                He had barely finished speaking before he was being proved correct.  A man with a plump middle and even fatter fingers approached.  Idhreniel recognized him, racking her brain for a name to accompany his face.  Then she saw the alternating gold and silver rings on his fingers, and remembered.

                “Lord Seregethir.”  She took his hand with a smile, kissing his cheek and noting his pleased expression with satisfaction.

It was the irony of his name that she remembered.  No doubt this soft lord had little to do with reconnaissance, and even less to do with blood.

                “Counselor.”  The title lingered on his tongue.  “I must admit my surprise at seeing you so far from the Sea.  Does business bring you to the mountains?”

As she answered, Idhreniel noted Erestor’s departure.  He moved from group to group, catching arms with a select few.  He spoke meaningfully to even fewer before lingering beside another black robed man.  Aurendis was beckoned to a circle of ladies, and so she linked arms with her mother and joined them.  By that time Lord Seregethir had mingled off with other lords and ladies.  Idhreniel took a glass of wine from a passing serving tray.  She marveled at the deep red color and settled into an optimal position for observation.  Sorniswë remained beside her, apparently also having no wish to mingle.  They silently sipped at their wine, idly watching the men and women.

                “There is Lord Tyelperinquar, late as usual.”  Sorniswë’s voice was low.  Idhreniel recognized the haughty man from Galadriel’s office.  He gleamed in silver and gold, escorting a regal lady garbed in a bright red dress.  “And that is Counselor Istiril.”

                The pair made a formidable couple.  Istiril’s cool gaze swept over the gathering as if they had congregated for her.  She wore her dark hair free, allowing the loose curls to frame her heart-shaped face.  Celebrimbor said something into her ear, and the lady laughed in a resonating tenor tone.  When they parted, Idhreniel caught the lady’s gaze land on Sorniswë, and she immediately made towards him.  The air around Sorniswë grew uncomfortably tense as the lady came closer.

                “Commander, my assistant said you had returned from the Coast.”  Istiril extended her hand to the Exile. 

Sorniswë took it, leaning towards her to kiss the air near her cheek in a polite greeting, though his stiff bearing revealed his distaste.  

                “Yes, and with impeccable timing.  Your assistant informed me that the Council would have met next week with or without my presence.”  Sorniswë’s tone held a brisk reproach.

Istiril did not deign to respond, instead turning her scrutiny to Idhreniel.  The shrewd gaze swept Idhreniel from head-to-toe, an open analysis of her appearance.  Idhreniel maintained a mild smile, though she found herself sharing Sorniswë’s dislike.

                “I do not believe I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance.  I am Istiril, treasurer-in-chief of the City.”  The lady said her title with authority.

                “Idhreniel, formerly of Lindon.”  Idhreniel bowed her head respectfully, catching the brief flash of recognition in Istiril’s eyes at her name.  “I have only just arrived.”

                “From Forlond?” Istiril’s eyes narrowed when Idhreniel nodded.  “I have received many letters from a counselor with the same name.”

Idhreniel couldn’t help her small smile, about to reply when her attention was caught behind Istiril.

                Celeborn and Galadriel had chosen to make their entrance, followed by their children.  Galadriel glistened in white, bright with the memory of the Trees.  It reflected off Celeborn, making it seem as if he too had come from the West.  They were a study in nobility, progressing through the crowd. 

                “Then it seems you both have corresponded before this,” Sorniswë offered before taking a drink of his wine.

Istiril’s lips twisted unbecomingly as she stared evenly at the Commander.  Again, Idhreniel felt the discomfort and palpable dislike shared between the two.

                “I see you have met Idhreniel, Counselor,” Galadriel’s smooth voice cut through the unease.

She stood tall between Sorniswë and Istiril, apparently indifferent to their apprehension.  Celeborn was a step behind her, speaking seriously with his son before joining them.

                “Yes.”  In less than a blink of an eye, Istiril’s expression had switched to polite and glad.  “The Commander was just introducing us.”

                “How kind of him.”  A flicker of humor crossed Galadriel’s face as she gazed at the stern Exile. 

Idhreniel was sure she caught the edge of a smile before he sipped at his wine, looking away towards where Astarinyë chatted.  Apparently Galadriel was not fooled by her Counselor’s demeanor.

                “There you are!”  Celebrían’s exclamation was paired with an arm linking around Idhreniel’s.  “I do beg pardon, but I must steal Idhreniel away.  There are important introductions to be made.”

                “Do be sure to introduce her to Istyar Tinuthel,” Celeborn chuckled at his daughter’s exuberance.

Celebrían simply regarded her father with an expression of mock surprise, one hand resting above the swell of her breasts dramatically. 

                “Istyar Tinuthel?  I hadn’t thought to—”

                “Celebrían,” Galadriel quietly interrupted, the amusing theatrics apparently lost on her.

                “Of course I shall introduce her, Atar,” Celebrían finished, gifting her father with a brilliant smile.

Celeborn’s chuckle followed their departure.  Idhreniel found herself swept away into the crowd of the City’s most influential.  Some, like Seregethir, she had met previously in Forlond during various celebrations and political functions; others had travelled with Galadriel and Celeborn from Nenuial and never ventured to the King’s realm.  When Celebrían accepted an offer to dance, Idhreniel wandered the gardens, taking a brief and solitary respite.  Her gaze returned to the brilliant night.  A few couples passed by her, seemingly intent on finding a quiet space to call their own.  She finally began ignoring the passing footsteps, choosing to hum softly to the music drifting through the flowers.

                “Alcarinquë is bright tonight,” a strong baritone voice murmured.

                The owner of the voice was a man, taller than her, with dark hair that hung straight down to his waist.  An Exile, Idhreniel noted, though she found the glow of the West stronger on him than the others.  He spared her a brief smile.

                “Indeed,” she replied.  “When he shines so bright, it is believed that luck is imminent.”

He made a noise in his throat, raising a brow skeptically.  He picked off two glasses of deep red wine from a passing serving tray and offered her one.  She took it, allowing the rim to clink softly against his in a toast.  Idhreniel sipped at the sweet drink, smiling at the hint of strawberries.  The vintage in Eregion indeed rivaled Lindon’s; Gil-galad would be most disappointed.

                “And how would I receive such luck?” he asked, barely disguising his humor.

                “The Lady’s ears are ever turned to her Children,” Idhreniel answered. 

                “I fear she would not listen to my requests.”  He took a long drink from his glass.

Idhreniel shrugged, meeting his gaze before responding.

                “I did not say she would grant it.”

At that, he laughed, nodding to himself. 

                “Well said, Lady.  Perhaps I will utter my desires tonight.”

                “And why would you do that?”  Celebrían approached, her fair face dimming only slightly when she saw Idhreniel’s companion.

                “For luck, Lady Celebrían, it seems there is some in my future.”  He bowed his head to her.

Celebrían simply laughed and slipped an arm through Idhreniel’s.

                “How fortunate for you!  Forgive me, my Lord, but I must steal away my friend.” Celebrían gently began to guide Idhreniel away.

                “I hope your luck finds you,” Idhreniel said in parting to the man.

His smile only increased his overall fairness.  He lifted his glass to her before a bush blocked him from view, and they were back in the brilliantly lit courtyard.   Celebrían immediately set their path towards a group of men.  Amroth was silver-bright beside Erestor and two other men.  Erestor touched Amroth’s elbow, indicating the ladies’ approach.

                “Perfect, we were just talking about you, Lady Idhreniel.”  Amroth welcomed them, stepping back to include both ladies into the circle. 

                “I’m never sure how to respond to that,” Idhreniel replied demurely, eliciting polite laughter from the group.

                “Amroth says you are to teach Celebrían,” The man’s voice was rough like gravel and soft in a near whisper.  “I was inquiring as to your qualifications.”

                “Perhaps an introduction is first in order,” Celebrían cut in before Idhreniel could reply.  “Idhreniel, Istyar Tinuthel, chief of the Guild of the Sky.”  Tinuthel was the owner of the rasping voice; his dark hair was braided in a style worn by former citizens of Gondolin.  “And Arvadhor, student of Eleñolmo Sarnhir.  You already know Erestor, of course.”

Arvadhor had what her mother would have called star eyes.  They were dark, distant and preoccupied.  When his gaze finally met hers, it was clinically studious, as if she were an item to be classified and then disregarded. 

                “I am interested to hear, from a Sinda’s point of view, about the stars.  It is my experience that your people have intricate myths and superstitions—” the Istyar began.

                “We have our beliefs, Istyar Tinuthel.  The Thinnil long endured under only the light of the stars,” Idhreniel interrupted him, her tone sharper than she intended.

                “I do not think he meant…” Celebrían began after a noticeable pause.

                “Lady, please, I deserved that,” Tinuthel placed a hand on Celebrían’s shoulder to politely cut her off.  “What I meant, Lady Idhreniel, is that I am interested in accounting for the beliefs, as you say, of the Sindar.  Your people are not as fond of written accounts as we are.”

                “I would be happy to share some with you, Istyar.  Perhaps you could share some of the Golodhren beliefs,” Idhreniel replied.

                “That sounds fair.”  The Istyar lifted his cup to her.

                “There you are!” Aurendis seemed to dance into view. 

Interestingly enough, it was Arvadhor who she addressed and then lingered beside.  As if awoken, he blinked and offered her a charming smile. 

                “I have been waiting for you to find me,” he replied in a thin voice that seemed seldom used.

Idhreniel hid her surprise when he placed a gentle kiss on Aurendis’ lips.  Aurendis beamed at him; her earlier defense of the meneldil made much more sense now.

                “I was waylaid by Lord Nelhíl about the structure I would like built to add to the gardens behind Lady Galadriel’s offices,” Aurendis explained.

                “Oh, I am surprised you escaped before dawn,” Amroth smirked.  “Though, perhaps I only receive his longwinded explanations as punishment for denying his continued requests to cut trees in my forest.”

                “No, he mentioned that as well.” Aurendis lowered her voice both in timbre and volume in mimicry of Lord Nelhíl.  “And perhaps you might speak to Lord Amroth.  I’ll need wood for this project and he’s rebuffed my every attempt.  My men must have wood to work.”

A titter of laughter went around the group.  Even the Istyar smirked into his cup at the imitation.

                “Yes, but then the bakers and the smiths want wood to burn; the masons need wood to aid transport of their great stones; and the soldiers have their own needs.  If I agree to every proposition to cut in my forests, I will have no trees left,” Amroth grumbled good-naturedly.

                “See, your great level of responsibility is why Ada retired from the position,” Celebrían laughed.

                “No one will ever be happy with you, Keeper of the Woods.”  Arvadhor sent his friend an apologetic smile.

                “I could not be so lucky,” Amroth replied.

Celeborn silently joined their circle, standing unobtrusively beside his son.  Glasses were raised, and wine drank to greet him. 

                “Speaking of luck,” Celebrían glanced at Idhreniel.  “I happened upon Idhreniel imparting luck to Lord Aulendil.”

Idhreniel felt a brief wave of concern at the varied expressions of the group.  Celeborn’s appearance had dipped into complete ambiguity as his gaze contemplated everyone but her.

                “Luck?  We should be asking that of him,” Tinuthel muttered into his cup.

                “That is his name?  I did not catch it while we briefly spoke,” Idhreniel replied casually, her curiosity piqued.

Rarely did one person cause such a diverse reaction without good cause. 

                “Lord Aulendil is a guest of Lord Celebrimbor’s house,” Erestor explained quietly, subtly using his glass to indicate something behind Idhreniel.

She waited a moment before nonchalantly stepping to Erestor’s side so she could see what he did.  The Western Lord stood between Celebrimbor and Galadriel, observing the cousins as they spoke.  There was a dark temper at the edges of Celebrimbor’s face as he spoke.  Galadriel retained her ever-calm exterior, placing a hand on his shoulder and speaking inaudibly.  Aulendil placed his own hand on Celebrimbor’s other shoulder, gaining the attention of the lord and lady.  He must have interjected some humor by the sudden laughter from the Smith.  A few other lords and ladies gravitated towards the sound.

                “How fortunate for him,” Idhreniel simply said.

As the night dwindled into morning, their group grew consciously smaller until Idhreniel found herself seated beside Celeborn.  The conversation jumped from subject to subject, depending on who dominated the discussion.  When Erestor took up the defense of a tax initiative, his speech suddenly flowed into the tongue of the Noldor.  Idhreniel swiftly lost track of the argument, failing miserably to translate the quick discourse as Celebrían, Arvadhor and Erestor interrupted and spoke over each other. 

“I’ve found that Erestor only becomes a more formidable debater with wine,” Celeborn murmured in her ear.

He slipped into the dialect of Elu’s people, using the words and pronunciations the younger generation had written off as archaic and outdated.  Like all languages, even that of the Thinnil evolved with the passing years.  Idhreniel smiled gladly at him, comforted by the sound. 

                “Then he would be a force in Forlond,” Idhreniel responded ironically.

Celeborn laughed and nodded before he regarded her seriously.

                “If Gil-galad suddenly recruits my most promising prosecutor, I will know who to blame.”

Idhreniel’s voice was lost in the sudden bout of loud laughter from the others.  In this way, with humor and wine, they greeted the dawn.

 

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Chapter End Notes

Characters/Notes:

Idhreniel: once-chief counselor to Gil-galad; sister of Tirnion; daughter of Ninnethril and Olthir.

Sorniswë: Exile; Commander of the soldiers of Ost-in-Edhil; husband to Astarinyë; father to Aurendis and Erestor.

Erestor: Noldor; lawyer; youngest child/son of Sorniswë and Astarinyë.

Aurendis: Noldor; eldest child/daughter of Sorniswë and Astarinyë; First Gardner of the City.

Arvadhor: Noldor; one of the elendili of the City.

Istyar: Quenya, “learned man”.  This title is assumed only by the brightest and most accomplished of the guild.  Most guild leaders can utilize this title, though some guilds have specialized honorifics for their masters.  (The idea for this is taken with permission from Pandemonium_213’s stories, most notably The Apprentice.)

Tinuthel: Noldor; Istyar; Chief for the Guild of the Sky; Current leader for the Otornassë Meneliva.

Meneldil: Quenya, singular term for astronomer or student of astronomical lore.

Elendili: Quenya, “lover or student of the stars”; utilized as a class name for those who have moved beyond a fascination with the stars and study astronomical lore.  Commonly, one may be more familiar with the Edain translation of this word to mean “elf-friend”.  This is a simple example of cultural and linguistic differences between the Eldar and Edain.  Among the Elves of Ost-in-Edhil, the term “elendili” will always refer to astronomers.  (Credit to Pandemonium_213 for the actual form.)

Eleñolmo/Eleñolmor: Quenya masculine singular/plural, “star-wise person”; specific title for certain elendili who have reached the highest level of academia. (Again, credit goes to Pandemonium_213 for steering me far, far away from my pitiful attempts.)

Sarnhir: Noldor; member of the elendili, an Eleñolmo.

Gaerys: (Sindarin) Ossë

Astarinyë: Exile; Chief Physician of Ost-in-Edhil; wife of Sorniswë; mother to Aurendis and Erestor.

Tyelperinquar: Noldor; also called Celebrimbor, Tyelpo; Istyar and chief of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain; grandson of Fëanor.

Istiril: Noldor; Treasurer-in-chief of Ost-in-Edhil.

Seregethir: Noldor; Chief of the Guild of the Earth.

Nenuial: Lake Evendim, north of the Shire.

Alcarinquë: Quenya, “The Glorious”; Said to be the brightest object in the sky before the rising of the moon; corresponds to our Jupiter.

Nelhíl: Noldor; Chief of the Carpenters.