Loyalty: A Tale in Three Voices by grey_gazania

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Part I, Chapter V (Uldor)

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FA 463

 

The Elf believed us. Of course, Károt spoke the truth, and we were careful to keep our own lies well-hidden, so there was nothing to alert Lord Caranthir to our deception. As for him, he seemed a reasonable enough man, if a bit haughty and dour. That fact that he hadn't come to a decision irked me, though. "What's there to consider?" I asked once we had left his hall behind.

 

Nâr laughed. "Lord Caranthir is not considering," he said. "He's putting on a show. He's very proud, you know. He wants you to think that he's the supreme authority here. But he has to consult his eldest brother, and probably his king as well." 

 

"They have a king?" I said. The Lord of the North’s messenger had made it sound like these Noldor weren’t united.

 

“They do,” Nâr told me. “A fairly new one. His father died in the last great battle against the Lord of the North. But from what I understand, the Noldor are fairly fractured regardless, and Lord Caranthir’s eldest brother has substantial sway with King Fingon. His appeal to the king is likely a formality. It’s Lord Maedhros who will make the real decision.”

 

"And what is this Lord Maedhros like?"

 

"A bit grim," Nâr said after a moment's thought. "He's made of sterner stuff than Caranthir, and I wouldn't want to be on the wrong end of his blade, but he's a just man, as Elves go, and not afraid to extend the hand of friendship when it suits him. Lord Azaghâl of Gabilgathol is allied with him."

 

I tucked the information away to pass on to Father when I saw him next. He'd gone off with Károt, both still stewing over our newly given names. Father hadn't wanted to use them; like the Kházad, we valued the proper naming of things, and believed that both a person and a people should be called by the names they used themselves. Giving our own up for their Sindarin translations rankled.

 

But it was best to keep the Noldor happy. Uldor. I was Uldor, son of Ulfang now.

 

***********

 

“I understood a fair amount of what Nâr told the Elf,” Tókhesh – no, Tavoreth – announced at dinner that night. “And he says if I meet him for an hour or two in the mornings he’ll teach me more Sindarin.” She had their R-sound down perfectly, unlike the rest of us, and could pronounce our new names with only the barest trace of an accent. If the loss of her own name bothered her, she didn't let it show. In fact, she seemed excited.

 

"Take him up on it," Father advised. "Nâr has done right by us. He's a good man."

 

Nâr was worth his weight in gold. He'd offered his services free as payment for the times Tókhesh had translated for his people and our Southern neighbors, but Father still insisted on giving him a portion of the coin we had left, for he was providing us with far more than simple translation. The Elves' language, their politics, their laws and social rules… None of it was strange to Nâr, and he placed all of his knowledge at our disposal.

 

"I did," Tókhesh said around a mouthful of beans. Thisí rapped her knuckles on the table, and my niece blushed. "Sorry," she said after she'd swallowed. "But yes, I did. I'm going to meet him by the roadside tomorrow." We were living in makeshift tents about a mile off from the Kházad-Road, still technically on their land, while we waited for Lord Caranthir's decision — or, more accurately, his brother's decision. It was crowded and smokey and we would have been short on water, but a few of the Elf guards had taken pity on us and brought buckets from their own wells. It was kind of them, but I was still wary. They were massive, taller than the trees in our old orchards, and nearly as fog-pale as the Lord of the North's spirit. Even more disconcerting was their eyes: strangely colorless, mostly very light blues and greys. Some were normal enough despite that, but in others, like Caranthir, they glowed with an eerie light, utterly unlike anything I'd ever seen before.

 

Once we'd finished our meal, Father beckoned to me and left the tent. "So they have a king. That sheds a new light on things," he said as we walked off from our hasty settlement, finding a deserted patch of land out of earshot of the others. The fires scattered among our tents danced in the wind as we watched, but the windows of the Elves' keep glowed with steady blue light. "And they're ruled by the eldest son. Like Károt's people."

 

(Károt had not been happy when he discovered that my brother Lupílo, though the oldest, was not actually Father’s heir. But by then the blood-oath had been sworn and his sister’s marriage consummated, and there was nothing he could do.)

 

I pulled my scarf up to cover my head and wrapped my cloak tighter around myself. It was chilly here during the day, but still bearable; the night, on the other hand, was truly frigid. "Nâr says this Lord Maedhros is fair enough. It doesn't sound like we'll be turned away." We couldn't afford to be turned away. Father had sworn in blood, and we had to keep that oath. The gods alone knew what the spirit might do if we broke it. Destroy us, probably — burn us alive or turn us into ghosts, doomed to wander alone until enough tears had been shed to release our souls. "I suppose we just have to wait for them to exchange messages. At least the land looks good. I think we'll do well, if they let us stay."

 

Father nodded. "Like the spirit said, it's never lied to me."

 

"Which spirit is it?" I asked after a moment's silence. "The one from Eagle Hill? I've been wondering."

 

"No," he said. "I only ever saw that spirit once. But this spirit told me that if we began to trade with the Kházad, we would prosper. And we did. Now it says that we will prosper here." He shrugged. "I want our people to thrive, Lúrep. If it will help me in that, then I will listen."

 

"Uldor," I corrected. "Not Lúrep."

 

He let out a huff, half frustration and half amusement. "I'm sixty-three and I can no longer pronounce my family's names, Uldor," he said, the word awkward and heavy in his mouth.

 

"Father—"

 

"Leave me, my son," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

 

I nodded and took my leave, feeling something twist in my chest. When I reached our tent, I didn't sleep, but sat up waiting for his return.

 

He never came.