The Swan's Song by Kimberleighe

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Chapter Eight

Summary: A brief discussion on what might lie beyond the stars, and the paths that take one there.

Thanks to Scarlet, mollyapple and Pandemonium for feedback!

This chapter was in part inspired by the MPTT Anniversary Challenge, specifically the following lines: “Tomorrow we may come this way/ And take the hidden paths that run/ Towards the Moon or to the Sun.” 

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Chapter Eight: Hidden Paths

 

                Idhreniel quickly passed through the lower rindi, intending to reach the higher levels of the City.  Her weekly late morning trek was routine now.  The encompassing aroma of warm bread followed her as she stepped off the main avenue onto the thin side streets lined by apartments and residences.  She pushed open a tall silver gate, entering the courtyard of the Otornassë Meneliva.  The sickly sweet scent of jasmine enveloped her as she followed the familiar path towards the two buildings that housed all the knowledge of these men. 

                “Good morning, Lady,” Thindir, the mathematician, fell into step beside her.  “Berellos predicts a clear night tonight.”

                “Does he?” Idhreniel exchanged an amused look with Thindir.  “I seem to recall he said the same last week, and that turned out to be incorrect.”

There had been quite a few wisps of clouds in the higher regions of the sky that had obstructed their view.

                “I hear his is an imprecise science,” Thindir replied with a smirk.

                “That explains it,” Idhreniel laughed.

She had met the mathematician on the first day she had ventured past the silver gates.  He had kindly shown her to the Istyar’s offices.  Since then, their paths always crossed on the mornings she visited.

To the left of their path rose the grey and austere library.  As always, he bid her farewell and went right to the buildings boasting large rooms and offices.  Inside, men scribbled away on boards, forming mathematical theories and crafting new inventions.  Those men worked during the day; they were the lovers of storm-lore and mathematicians.  The elendili were not yet roused.  It was barely noon. 

                Behind the main house rose the wall, a portion of which slimmed into a tall tower.  However, no guard was posted at the top.  This tower belonged to the elendili alone.  At Lord Celeborn’s request, Istyar Tinuthel had granted her access to it for the night lessons once a week.  She traversed the stairs swiftly until she reached the top, sighing at the spectacular view.  She could see in all four compass directions.  There were no clouds on the horizon, so Berellos’ prediction could develop into truth.  A cool breeze swept down from the mountains, blowing her hair haphazardly around.  As she smoothed it into a simple twist, she made a mental note to braid it tightly tonight.  It was then she realized she was not alone.  The Istyar sat precariously on the ledge of the tower, his back resting against one of the stone pillars that held up a roof over a portion of the tower.  A thin stack of papers fluttered with the wind, restrained by his hand as he read.  For a moment, she was not sure if he was aware of her presence.

                “Lady Idhreniel.”  He marked his place before looking to her with a pleasant expression, and beckoned her to join him.

She acquiesced without a thought, perching herself on the ledge and looking over only once at the steep drop.  Splotches of red (flowers, she knew) dripped down the mountain breaking up the green and grey.  The sheer descent never failed to instill her with caution. 

                “I hope I am not interrupting.”  She paired her words with an apologetic expression.  “I did not think anyone else would be here.”

Indeed, she had simply wished to assess the weather.  However, she would not turn down an opportunity to speak with the Istyar.  Their prior conversations had been enlightening.

                “You are, but I do not mind.  In fact, some conversation would be a welcome diversion.”  Tinuthel’s rasping voice sounded tired.  He motioned to the bound papers, offering them to her.  “One of Sarnhir’s students is attempting to lure me into utter boredom.”

Idhreniel chuckled to herself, taking the volume from him and skimming the first few pages.  She was struck by the analytical and passive tone; there was no wonder in this scholar’s discovery. 

                “It does seem that way.”  She passed it back to him.

                “It is a hazard of our study, I think, that all the Eldar feel love for the skies.  Many believe it qualifies them to study the stars,” Tinuthel said.  “Not every person who can name the stars is worthy to discover what is beyond them.”

                “And what do the Gelydh believe lies beyond the stars?” Idhreniel asked quietly.

Tinuthel observed her silently for a few minutes.  They sat above the music of the City, beyond the murmur of voices and the cries of horses and barks of dogs.  There was silence to be found near the clouds.  Today, the wind whistled; perhaps Aran Einor was calling his eagles home. 

                “There is more in our sky than we understand presently,” Tinuthel answered.  “An Eleñolmo I once knew in Ondolindë told me that there are paths in the skies.  The Ainur came from beyond; there must be more.”

                “Paths in the sky,” she mused, intrigued by the idea.  “My people would tell you that every man and woman who dared to fly too high was trapped in the skies.”

He sighed impatiently as he shook his head.

                “I thought your stories were meant to be metaphorical, not literal,” he said with an edge to his tone.

                “I have never seen the legendary Trees.  Are those also metaphorical?” she challenged.

He raised a brow with a dark frown, and for a moment, Idhreniel was sure she had crossed some invisible line.  She did not apologize, knowing well that any retreat would be met with contempt. 

                “If you are expecting me to argue that the proof of the Trees is above…” he motioned to the Sun.  “…then you are in for a long wait.”

                “I understood that the Gelydh believed-” she began, but stopped when he raised his hand.

                “Those are stories for children and Men,” he replied scornfully.  “Tilion and Arien may yet reside on their respective lights, but they do not guide them.  The Sun and Moon endured long before the Eldar awoke.”

                “Then what guides them?  Where is your proof?” Idhreniel could not hide her curiosity.

The Istyar stood, his lips spread in a familiar (and infuriating) half-smile.  Instantly, she knew he would not be answering her question.

                “I suppose you will need to visit Gilvagor to find answers.”  Every one of her questions he had rebuffed by sending her to the library.  As of yet, she had not visited the extensive collection.  She was here to teach Celebrían, not learn the theories of the Gelydh.

The Istyar descended the stair without another word.   Her thoughts churned over and over, part of her already racing down the stairs to the library.  She could see the doors from where she sat, but she did not walk that path.  Instead, Idhreniel turned her gaze West, following the curve of the river to the horizon.  If she closed her eyes, she could envision the sea.  Her thoughts calmed, allowing the inquiries to sink to the bottom of her mind.  Her heart clearly listened to the incessant roar of the waves mingled with the mournful gull cries.  Then the faint music of the singers spilled out to mix with Ulu’s symphony.  With a sigh, she reopened her eyes, allowing her gaze to drift over the present scenery.  Tonight would mark the end of the first month of Celebrían’s lessons.  While the daughter of Celeborn was extremely clever, she lacked focus.  Like an academic butterfly, she had flitted from tutor to tutor never gaining more than a cursory mastery of a subject.  If the pattern held, Idhreniel presumed she would be returned home within the next few years. 

When the wind began to scrape her cheeks, Idhreniel finally left the tower, returning to the bustling streets and finding her way back to the Commander’s home.  As soon as she stepped inside, Belechir appeared at her side and took the cloak from around her shoulders.

“Is everyone out?” she asked.

                “Yes.  The Commander and his wife are expected to be in council all day.  Master Erestor is in court, and Lady Aurendis and her suitor took a packed lunch, destination unknown,” Belechir answered.  “Do you require anything, Lady?  Tea?  Lunch?”

                “Just tea, Belechir.  I intend to finish my lesson planning and draft a few letters,” Idhreniel replied.

                “As you wish.”

She slipped up the stairs to her room, taking a seat behind the desk.  From a drawer, she pulled a half-finished letter to her brother.  She uncapped the inkwell, dipping her pen to continue the words.  Her pen scratched out the minutes as she vividly described the City for her brother, taking special care in detailing the Commander and his stern charge of the soldiers. 

                “To your brother?”  Rihedil placed a teacup beside Idhreniel’s elbow, having entered unawares.

                “Yes, just finished actually,” Idhreniel answered, quickly looking to the lady.

While Belechir clearly maintained boundaries with the Commander and his family, Rihedil had assimilated into their lives.  Idhreniel had been treated no differently once it was clear she would be staying for a bit.

                “You must find out how that darling baby is doing,” Rihedil said, unloading a small plate from her tray to set beside the tea.  “From what you have said, Arvellon is precious.”

They passed the minutes in quiet conversation before Rihedil remembered the chicken in the oven.  She exited the room with an exclamation and flapping hand gestures.  Idhreniel hid her laughter behind her hand.  Slowly, her smile faded as the quiet enveloped her.  Outside, the City moved on in muffled waves of sound.  In Forlond, there were always interruptions, but here, it felt like isolation.  Her attention drifted to her lesson: Nendir and Aglarebiel.  However, her thoughts returned to the Istyar’s words.  Paths in the sky, he had said.  What guided Anor If not Aurion?  From her charts, she knew the stars did move, though they tended to shift with the years.  However, there were a few stars, like Aglarebiel and Elvir, which held a constant course.  Her chair scraped the floor when she rose suddenly, striding down the hall to re-collect her cloak.  Belechir met her at the door, her brows knit with concern.  She didn’t explain herself, simply fastening her cloak tight around her shoulders and collecting a few of the papers she would use for tonight. 

                “Should we expect you for dinner?” Belechir asked.

She paused at the door and glanced back with a smile that she hoped relayed her apology.

                “No.” 

                This time her ascent through the City was not slow.  She walked with purpose until she reached the gates, and then followed the path to the steps of the library. 

                “This is mad, Idhreniel,” she muttered to herself.

Her hand still pushed open the door, and her feet led her across the threshold.  The dry, musty scent of paper tickled her nose as she left her cloak on a hook near others.  She slowly drifted among the shelves, eyes darting over titles (most in the Western tongue). 

                “Do you require assistance, Lady?”  The soft-spoken man seemed painfully young to her, too young to be a scholar.  He shifted nervously on his feet.

                “I am looking for Gilvagor,” Idhreniel answered in a low tone.  “Is he here?”

The boy disappeared down a nearby row of shelves.  Idhreniel looked after him curiously, but did not follow, instead focusing on the library.  There was an area for star-charts, likely separated by year.  Tables waited nearby for the skies to be unfurled across them.  Shelves rose up to the ceiling like thick tree trunks, volumes providing a colorful moss up the side.  Some books were bound, others were left without coverings offering a naked page to passing eyes. 

                “Lady Idhreniel, the Istyar mentioned that you would visit me soon,” a smooth voice came from behind her.

                She turned quickly to face the black haired man.  His round face was kind and at odds with the cool glint in his eyes.  He wore his hair parted severely in the middle and it had been gathered back into a tie. 

                “Master Gilvagor,” she began.

                “Gilvagor, I have no other title,” he interrupted.

                “Gilvagor, the Istyar mentioned you could help me with research.”  Idhreniel continued her request.

Gilvagor simply nodded, stepping to the side as a few other men swept past, whispering among themselves.

                “On what subject?” he asked.

                “Paths in the sky.”  Her request sounded primitive.

                “Ah.”  Gilvagor’s lips spread suddenly into a smile.  “The Istyar’s theories, I might have guessed.  Most Eleñolmo apprentices attempt to study these their first year.”  Gilvagor beckoned her to follow him.

His warm response surprised her, but she kept in stride with him. 

                “Attempt?” she inquired.

He looked at her with a nod.

                “The Istyar is nothing short of brilliant, Lady Idhreniel.  He posits that there are bodies in the sky that move in circular motions around a central point, but…” he paused, pulling a few heavy books from the shelf.  “Well, I shall let you read his claims and support.”  He showed her to a room off to the side of the library, and then handed her the key.  “You are free to use this area as long as you like.  Materials are not to be taken out of the library.  When you are finished, please return them to me.”

                “Thank you, Gilvagor.”

He inclined his head politely and then strode away.

                The room consisted of a desk, chair, board, chalk, inkwell and a copious amount of paper.  Idhreniel took off her cloak before settling in the chair.  She stared at the book, not yet opening it.  You should not be here, her heart said.  What did it matter if the Gelydh thought the sun and moon moved along concrete paths?  Oh, but it did matter.  There had always been more to the sky, even her mother had known that.  She remembered the last time her mother had recounted Aurion and Calathiril.

                “Nana,” Idhreniel had interrupted her as Belegûr lifted his hammer to strike down the silver ship.

Ninnethril had only blinked, indeed surprised at the interruption. 

                “Yes, daughter?”

                “Is Ithil really a ship?”  It was a childish question.

Ninnethril sat back in her chair, her fingers stilling in the mending of one of Tirnion’s tunics.  The pile beside her had grown larger as of late with initiation into the city guard. 

                “What do you think?” she asked.

Idhreniel remembered pausing and looking up at the full moon.  The sea was streaked silver beneath it. 

                “But if it’s not a ship, then what is it?”  Idhreniel countered. 

                “Whether Ithil is indeed Calathiril’s ship or something else that is for you to tell, Daughter,” Ninnethril answered.

                “Then the stories are not true?” Idhreniel inquired quickly.

At that, Ninnethril frowned, set aside her mending and rose to join Idhreniel.  She stood somewhat shorter than her daughter, her dark hair gathered into a thick bun at the nape of her neck.  Ninnethril gazed evenly at her daughter, pondering her response.

                “I did not say that.  In stories is always a hint of the truth,” Ninnethril said firmly, her eyes tracing the star-signs above.  “One day we may be the stuff of legends and myths, but it does not make us any less real.”

                “Correction, Nana: I will be the stuff of legend,” Tirnion had interrupted, sweeping out onto the porch of their small home.

Ninnethril had observed her son with an amused smile, while Idhreniel simply sighed in frustration. 

                “Your brother unwittingly proves my point, Idhreniel.  Your dissension does not eliminate his belief.  It simply illuminates a different point-of-view.”

The memory of those words sent her fingers to break open the cover. 

                For weeks after, her brain felt as if it were spinning in mathematics, circles and words.  She copied the equations from the book and wrestled with the idea that Anor and Ithil did not both circle their world.  Instead, Anor sat at the center, and Arda revolved around it.  The Belain had passed on this knowledge to the Edhel in the West, so it had to be true.  Idhreniel watched Thindir scribble on a board, half-wondering if he was speaking Dwarf to her. 

                “Do you see?” Thindir put the chalk down, having finished thoroughly explaining each component of the equation.

Idhreniel rubbed her weary eyes, but nodded.  Thindir rose, stretching his arms up over his head with a sigh.

                “Don’t be embarrassed if you do not,” he continued.  “Few other than the apprentices of the Eleñolmor attempt to understand the support behind the theory’s claims.  Most students simply accept it as fact.”

                “They do not question it?” Idhreniel asked.

                “Why?  The Valar gifted this information to us.  Lady Varda…” He touched his forehead and then lips with two fingers and his thumb at the mention of the Star-kindler’s name.  “…instructed many on the secrets of the sky.  However, few of those men came East, and even fewer survived the destruction of Gondolin.”

                “How is it you know so much, Thindir?” His immense knowledge had not escaped her notice. 

His friendly expression faltered and descended into aloofness for a brief moment.  He laughed, louder than usual, but there was little mirth in his tone.  Idhreniel made no comment, choosing to ignore (but not forget) his reaction.

                “I thought you knew, Idhreniel.  I know everything,” he replied with a cocky grin.  “Now, I suggest we both retire.  It will be morning soon.”

They exited the library to find the ground and buildings layered with frost.  Idhreniel drew her cloak tight around her against the chill and watched her breath spiral in white clouds. 

                “Hrivë will soon be here.  You will have few nights for star gazing once the snow sweeps down from the Mountains,” Thindir predicted, pulling his hood up.

Their soft footsteps echoed in the silence.  It always seemed to Idhreniel that time stilled when night met morning.  Night would rage and refuse to relinquish his hold.  Morning simply persevered, even as it grew darker.  Dawn knew the inevitable promise of a new day.  Thindir murmured a simple farewell at the silver gates, turning off towards the nearby apartments and residences.  Idhreniel circled down to the Commander’s home.  Her dreams were filled with numbers.

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Chapter End Notes

Characters/Notes:

This chapter was in part inspired by the MPTT Anniversary Challenge, specifically the following lines: “Tomorrow we may come this way/ And take the hidden paths that run/ Towards the Moon or to the Sun.”  

Otornassë Meneliva: also referred to as the Brotherhood of the Heavens; a collaboration of the masters and their brightest students to ensure shared knowledge and cooperation among the different disciplines within the Guild of the Sky.

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. (Credit to Pandemonium_213 for the actual form.)

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

Sarnhir: Noldor; member of the elendili, Eleñolmo.

Ondolindë (Q): Gondolin

Gilvagor: Noldor; member of the elendili, keeper of the library.

Belechir: Sindar; attendant in Sorniswë’s employ; husband to Ríhedil.

Ríhedil: Sindar; cook/attendant in Sorniswë’s employ; wife to Belechir.

Nendir (S), Nencolindo (Q): “Water man/ water bearer”, corresponds to Aquarius.

Aglarebiel (S), Alcarinquë(Q): “The Glorious One”; said to be the brightest object in the sky before the rising of the moon; corresponds to our Jupiter.

Elvir (S), Elemmírë (Q): “star-jewel”, corresponds to Mercury.