Loyalty: A Tale in Three Voices by grey_gazania

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Part I, Chapter IX (Tókhesh)

This chapter was inspired by the prompts "language" and "culture" for Tolkien Gen Week on Tumblr.

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FA 463

 

Our people were nomads once, before Yéfan the Fearsome united us and built the beginnings of the city we had left behind. But we had been settled for generations, farmers and herdsmen rather than roving warriors. Living in tents was unfamiliar, even after our months of travel.

 

When the storm crashed down upon us the next night, with driving rain, ferocious winds, and the crack and flash of thunder and lightning, we found ourselves dearly missing our old roofed homes. Tents blew open, blew over, collapsed atop their huddled denizens. The ground couldn’t absorb all the water, and the bottoms of some tents sank into muddy puddles.

 

I spent most of the next morning with my aunt, helping stitch the torn fabric of our own tent as my grandfather and my uncles went from family to family, checking to see how each had fared in the night. Thank the gods no one had been hurt beyond a few bumps and bruises, but we were all cold and damp. As the sun finally rose high enough that the shadow of the mountains no longer loomed over us, we took refuge in its warmth.

 

Nâr arrived not long after, with some of his kin, and they helped us with our repairs and our packing, for my grandfather had decided that the storm was a sign that we should travel to our new home without delay. My grandfather, however, exempted me from the duties of packing so that I could continue to study Sindarin with Nâr. As usual, my teacher had new words for me, but before the lesson started, I asked him to wait a moment.

 

“Nâr,” I said, “why do the Noldor not call your people by their proper name? You’re the Kházad. Why do they insist on calling you the Naugrim?” I’d stretched out the first syllable without really meaning to, making the word even uglier to my ears than usual, and I said to Nâr, “It’s not a very nice-sounding word, you know.”

 

Nâr gave a dark laugh and said, “You’re right. It’s not a very nice-sounding word. In fact, it’s not a very nice word. It means ‘stunted folk’.”

 

I felt a rush of indignation on behalf of Nâr and his people. “They call you midgets?” I said, shocked by the elves’ appalling disrespect towards their own allies. “That’s terribly rude!” A thought occurred to me and I added, “What will they call us, I wonder?”

 

“They’re already calling your people the Moerbin,” Nâr told me, flashing me a crooked smile.

 

“‘Dark ones’?” I translated. “Ha! When they’re paler even than your people. Like sickly plants that have never seen the sun.  Seedlings growing under rocks.”

 

Again, Nâr laughed, and he said, “Don’t say that to any of them.” Then, adopting his teacher voice, he continued, “The elves insist on using their own words for everything, even names, rather than adopting other people’s endonyms. It puzzles me, I do admit it, because they’ve adopted the languages of other elves easily. Sindarin isn’t the mother-tongue of Lord Caranthir and his brothers, you know. That’s a different language called Quenya, of which I only know a handful of words.”

 

He paused for a moment, a pensive look on his face, and said, “If I’m completely honest, I think it’s simple arrogance. They think the elvish way is always best. I don’t say this to turn you against them, of course,” he added hurriedly. “I know your people need this alliance, and my own people have done well trading with Lord Caranthir. But you should keep that arrogance in mind, Tókhesh. You’ll likely have to bow your head and play meek and mild until your grandfather has proven his worth to Lord Caranthir. No arguing with him, even if you do think he’s terribly rude. Of the elf-lords I’ve met, I’d say he’s the most given to blunt, rough speech. But my people put up with him, because he’s honest and fair in his business dealings.”

 

“I’ll keep all of this in mind,” I said. “And I’ll be sure to tell my grandfather what you’ve told me.”

 

“No need,” Nâr said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ve discussed this at length with him. I offered my services, remember? That means all my knowledge is at your grandfather’s disposal.”

 

It was a relief to know that Nâr had told my grandfather everything he’d told me. But I couldn’t quite quash a hint of disquiet. The Kházad were our allies, but they were allies, too, of the Noldor. What would the Kházad think when we betrayed the Noldor to the Lord of the North? Would that ruin our own friendship with Nâr and his people? That would have to be my grandfather’s worry. I was only sixteen, far too young to have any say in the matter.

 

Before we parted, Nâr pressed a small book into my hands. “To help you learn their alphabet,” he said. “Remember, the more you practice, the easier it’ll get.”

 

I bowed to him in thanks and wished him well until next we met. That afternoon, we left for our new home.

 

End of Part I

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Chapter End Notes

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