Chasing Mirages by Russandol

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Fealty

Following Elrond's revelation, Eönwë stays in Lindon.

 

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23. Fealty

I allowed my body to relax in the soldiers’ grasp. They frowned at me, as though I were to blame for the incident. Would Manwe’s interference never cease?

When Elrond insisted on standing up, Gil-galad helped him and dismissed all other courtiers, who left with obvious reluctance, no doubt disappointed about not witnessing the closing act of the eerie performance.

Ereinion and Elrond turned their backs to me and whispered animatedly, while I simmered in uneasy indignation. My gaze strayed to the window, through which I watched the sway of the sea, imprisoned and tamed within the fortified harbour. I yearned to travel beyond walls and locked doors, beyond mountains and deserts, to be with Mairon again.

Nothing Gil-galad could do to me would hurt as much as what Manwë and Námo had already done, but I dreaded the thought of being returned to my cell. Clenching my hands at my sides, I counted slowly, to bar my thoughts from travelling down paths that led to where despair waited to strike.

At last, the King and his counsellor signalled my escort to step forward. Elrond stood to the right of his King, pale but seemingly recovered. When my arms were released, I gave a shallow bow and awaited Gil-galad’s decision.

‘Elrond, you have spoken for this man,’ he said gravely. ‘Therefore, on you falls the responsibility for his actions.’

‘As you wish, Sire,’ replied Eärendil’s son, lowering his head in a bow that did not completely mask his grimace of displeasure.

‘As for you, Erestor,’ said Ereinion, turning to me, ‘your behaviour will dictate the level of freedom that you may enjoy in my realm.’

‘I shall not give cause for concern,’ I assured him. I did not intend to stay in Lindon one more day than I had to. 

‘No, you shall not, if you ever wish to feel the warmth of the sun on your face again,’ he replied dryly. ‘If you are to serve Elrond or to fight under my banner, as his foresight told him, you must swear your allegiance.’

I could not bear another day, let alone months or years, inside a locked room. Therefore, I made as if to kneel, but the King’s firm hand on my shoulder stopped me.

‘Not to me, Erestor.’

I frowned, then dipped my head in acceptance and turned my gaze to his companion.

‘My lord...’ protested Elrond.

Gil-galad lifted his hand to demand silence and nodded at me.

‘Will you hear my oath, Elerondo, son of Eärendil?’ I asked, as was customary, in the High-elven tongue, which the remnants of the exiled Noldor and their descendants spoke during such solemnities.

‘I will, Egla- Erestor. Plight your faithfulness with words of truth,’ he answered the ritual words in a dull tone.

Irritated, I dropped to one knee before him and grasped his hands. They were as cold as ice! Looking up, I was startled by the glint of fear in his eyes. What had Irmo showed him?

His fingers tightened over mine, before nodding for me to proceed. The usual formula of the oath invoked the Valar as witnesses, but I would not swear upon them. 

‘By Eru the Allfather who kindled the heart of Eä with the Imperishable Flame, to Elerondo Eärendilion I will be true and faithful by word, silence and deed, in accord with the laws of our King and land. So say I, Erestor, once of Aman.’

‘And I, Elerondo Eärendilion, accept your troth, Erestor, once of Aman and now of Lindon, and will hold to you as you shall deserve,’ he answered without joy. 

I pressed my lips to his right hand in sign of fealty. He pulled me to my feet, releasing his hold a bit too hastily, as though my touch repulsed him.

Neither of us was delighted about this arrangement but, while I had accepted it as a necessity, Elrond was clearly dismayed.

‘My lord,’ I murmured through gritted teeth.

Gil-galad looked at both of us strangely. ‘I guess this will have to do, for now,’ he sighed.

Elrond bowed to him and all but stormed out of the hall. I looked at the King for instructions, and he waved me to follow my new lord. When I caught up with Elrond, we walked in silence to a large house not far from the keep.

As soon as we entered, a servant glided towards Elrond solicitously. He appraised me with undisguised suspicion as his lord, our lord, curtly informed him that I had joined his service.

‘I shall work for a while, Bruithros. Once you show Erestor to his lodgings and explain the household rules and routines to him, you can have the rest of the evening free. He might wish to eat,’ he concluded, without looking at me for confirmation.

‘Very well, my lord,’ answered Bruithros. ‘Will I have dinner served for you at the usual time?’

‘No. Ask the cook to prepare a light repast and have it brought to the library.’

Elrond left without sparing another word, or even a glance, toward me. I followed the annoyingly haughty servant, not really listening to his prattle and keeping a stubborn silence in the face of his prying, impertinent questions.

 

~ o ~

 

A hand shook me in my sleep. Without opening my eyes, I knew it was still dark.

‘Not yet,’ I mumbled. But the grip on my shoulder did not relent.

‘Our lord has requested that you see him at once,’ urged Bruithros quite loudly in my ear. ‘Make haste! I have better things to do than wait on you. He will meet you at the library while he breaks his fast before his morning audience with the King.’

He slammed the door as he left. With a curse, I threw the blanket off and rose slowly from the narrow bed, sparing a look of longing at the tangle of crumpled sheets. Most of the night I had vainly attempted to coax my overactive consciousness into sleep, but only when the stars began to pale had my hroä finally succumbed to exhaustion. In the dim light that filtered through the edge of the shutters, I scanned my room, a small chamber in the servant’s quarters. The main difference from my previous accommodation was that the door could be unlocked from the inside. I was beginning to question whether this trifle was worth my efforts.

After splashing cold water from a washbasin over my face, I put on the black trousers, white shirt and tunic that I had been handed the previous evening. The woollen fabric of the tunic was dyed dark blue, almost indigo, the hue of the sea on the day I had arrived at Lindon. Elrond’s coat of arms glimmered over my chest. I touched the raised stitching, slowly tracing its graceful contours. Eärendil’s six-point argent star was embroidered in silver thread at the centre of the azure field, over what I believed to be the long golden petals of Lúthien’s flower, also in her mother’s arms. I remembered with a pang of dismay my promise to Melyanna to watch over her surviving progeny in Endórë. I doubted Elrond would see me as a protector any time soon.

My bag had been returned, so I ran a comb through my hair, ruthlessly pulling at snarls and tangles, and wove a tight plait at the back.

I left my room and followed the long corridor, turning several corners until I reached the gallery above the entrance courtyard. From there, I easily found the stairs and strode down two steps at a time. I crossed the courtyard to stand opposite the door through which I had seen Elrond disappear the day before. After taking a deep breath, I knocked.

‘Enter.’

Elrond’s library was smaller than ours had been at Kiinlúum, but every available space on the walls, up to the high ceiling and even over the door and window lintels, was covered with shelves holding orderly rows of books. Slanting pale beams of early sunlight poured in through two wide lead glass windows, making the swirling specks of dust glitter in the warm air. My boots echoed loudly as I walked onto the dark polished wood.

‘My lord,’ I muttered, bending into a bow while hoping that the rumbling of my stomach was not as loud as it seemed to me.

Elrond sat behind a desk near the window writing tidy columns of figures in a thick ledger book. He put the quill down only after completing the page, and at last raised his gaze to acknowledge my presence.

‘Rarely does foresight, with which I am blessed, or possibly cursed, show me visions of such dire clarity as those which conveniently saved you from banishment yestereve,’ he began without preamble. I opened my mouth, wishing to speak, but he shook his head impatiently. ‘You are here only because I vouched for you, maybe unwisely, knowing your dread at being imprisoned. I foolishly proposed to Ereinion that you should serve one of his lords in the city, then immediately wished I had remained silent when he saddled me with your company. You have sworn an oath to me and, for better or worse, I have accepted your pledge. Do not make me regret this arrangement or I will have you locked away and throw the key into the bay. Do we understand each other, Erestor, or whatever your true name is?’

Briefly, I wavered between laughter and outrage.

‘Good morning to you too, my lord Elrond. We do understand each other, my lord. Perfectly,’ I answered at last, barely able to remove all vestiges of sarcasm from my tone.

‘We shall see. ’ He glared. ‘In the meantime, let us find out how you should earn your keep.’

He waved his arm towards a wooden chair before his desk. A command, not an invitation.

‘You have not broken fast, have you?’ he queried.

‘No, my lord.’

‘Did you eat last night?’

‘No, my lord, I did not wish to cause any trouble.’

‘Eat, then,’ he said, pushing a tray with cold meats, cheese and bread towards me. A basket full of apples and pears and a plate of small cakes were placed before me, too. When I hesitated, he added, ‘My cook overfeeds me.’

‘Thank you.’ I smiled and tackled the food, while he watched, arms folded over his chest.

Once I felt comfortably full, I sat back and looked at him expectantly.

‘So tell me, Erestor, what can you do to be of service?’

‘I can work as your groom,’ I volunteered. ‘Tauras was pleased with me before...’

‘My groom?’ His soft chuckle conveyed annoyance, not amusement. ‘You, who have been instructed into the ways of the courts of Aman, and can speak the High-elven tongue flawlessly, why, even better than the King himself? Who can fight like the best warriors in our host? Do not take me for a fool, Erestor.’

He proceeded to interrogate me thoroughly about my skills, though, to his credit, he avoided probing into my past, even when the recital of the abilities I chose to disclose must have posed innumerable questions.

He seemed particularly fascinated by my extensive knowledge of languages beyond those of the Quendi. I acknowledged speaking several of the tongues of the Atani, including dialects of the Eastern tribes and, naturally, the language of Númenórë. I only omitted knowledge of the speech of my own kindred and a few of the languages I had learnt while negotiating with the surviving defeated allies of Melkor. I thought it was prudent not to spur Elrond’s mistrust further.

‘Where did you learn Adûnaic?’ he asked.

‘Around the time of the war against Moring-... Morgoth, my lord.’ His eyes narrowed.

‘Do you know my brother?’

I hesitated, but I did not wish to lie.

‘Yes, my lord, I knew him.’

He leant forward in his seat, piercing me with a calculating stare.

‘And yet I cannot remember you. Our paths would have surely crossed, Erestor, if you had been close to Elros.’

I was treading on dangerous ground.

‘I would certainly not presume to name myself his friend, my lord,’ I lowered my eyes, as though in modesty. ‘Our stations were far removed. May I ask if you have news from him?’

‘None have sailed from Númenor to these shores. But I know from Círdan that he still… lives. Do you know that he chose the fate of the Edain, their Gift?’ His voice was calm, but his fingers were clenched upon the edge of the desk.

‘I do, my lord.’ I phrased my response carefully. ‘I saw you both enter the Herald's tent in turn, first your brother, then you, when summoned to speak your choices. I was told...’ I bit my lip.

‘What were you told?’

Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘That you argued bitterly because he wished to go the way of the Edain and you chose the Edhil, and each of you tried to convince the other into embracing his choice.’  

‘Yes, we bickered for days.’ He smiled briefly, a fond smile twinned with a gleam of regret in his grey eyes. ‘Anyone watching us would have believed that separation might be a blessing in disguise. But in the end we just stopped talking about it. Until the summons.’

I nodded.

‘The Herald of Manwë arranged it so that I would not see Elros or learn of his answer before I spoke my own. I desperately wished to know if my brother had changed his mind at the last instant, as I was sorely tempted to do, not to be parted from him. I begged Lord Eönwë to tell me.’ Elrond’s shudder stirred my piity, as on that day so long ago. ‘Manwë had forbidden him from swaying us in any way,’ he said. ‘The choice should be ours, made freely and independently. I believe he regretted denying my request, but it was hard to tell. I gave my answer, and selfishly prayed that Elros had been strong enough to renounce his calling. Still, the Herald did not tell me. His beautiful face looked cold as diamonds, even though he knew our fates had split us for ever. I wonder if the Maiar can feel as we do?’

‘I wonder,’ I repeated inanely, stunned by his words, which were echoes of Mairon’s arguments. I wished I could speak a belated apology at my apparent coldness.

‘You were in the camp, then?’ The sudden harshness of his tone startled me. ‘Under whose banner?’

‘I cannot tell you, my lord,’ I lamented.  

‘Very well,’ he answered, irritated. ‘Regarding the matter of your service, you shall work in the translation office, directly under my supervision.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

‘A final warning, Erestor. You are not allowed to leave the city without me, or another man in my service appointed by my orders. The sentries have been commanded to arrest you if you attempt to cross the gates unaccompanied. So save yourself the trouble.’

I set my jaw to contain my frustration. I had only gained a bigger cage, after all.

‘I hope this measure will only be temporary, Erestor. Earn my trust and I may grant you more freedom.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

My respectful bow masked my disappointment. I was not completely surprised by this setback in my plans, but it was annoying, nevertheless.

I could climb down the stone walls and swim away beyond the sight of the sentries, but the currents outside the harbour were strong. The most likely outcomes were to drown or to be hauled back before a furious Elrond.

Besides, I did not wish to be forsworn to Eärendil’s son. Proving my trustworthiness to someone as wary as Gil-galad’s spymaster could take months, years even. I would strive to shorten the enforced delay and, in the meantime, curb my impatience and make plans, studying maps and maybe even discovering clues about Mairon’s whereabouts.

I still hoped that one day, not too far in the future, I could convince Elrond to allow me to leave Lindon.

 

~ o ~

 

Lindon, Year 440 of the Second Age of Arda

I was being tested. There was no doubt that nothing of a secret nature was being placed in my hands. And yet, my parchments were numbered and counted at the beginning and end of each day, as though to prevent me from copying information or to pass messages to someone else.

A fair proportion of the bizarre, difficult texts I was given to translate must have been penned by Elrond himself, in order to test my claims and assess my fluency, as well as to amuse himself at my expense. They were always verified by Luinhir, a trusted member of his staff, who delighted himself in pointing out better word choices and, in his opinion, more elegant turns of phrase for my efforts. He was almost as pedantic as Mairon at his worst.

Mairon... O Mairon! Every spare waking moment I longed for the day when we would embrace again.

I was certain that he would have covered his tracks well, but maybe he had left a trail of clues that I alone might perceive and follow, before time erased them. Otherwise, with no winged friend to whisk me away to the furthest side of the world, I could forever wander the endless leagues of Endórë without finding my lover. Where to start my search?

Not long after I began work in my new position, I learnt that the translation office dealt closely with the courier services, both the official post and the discreet network of motley agents that fed Elrond’s intelligence about the affairs of other realms. Through them, I hoped to be able to relay enquiries to distant lands, in order to gather scraps of information, rumour or fact, regarding the events in Kiinlúum after my death and abduction, and to discover clues about Mairon’s current abode.

Might he be searching for me? Had he guessed that I had been snatched away, that the conspiracy wrought by the Valar to secure our parting had all but destroyed my allegiance to Manwë?

Every night, the shards of our shattered happiness, sharper than razors, pierced my pounding heart; memories of my blissful exile at Mairon’s side chased each other into dark swirling dreams that knotted themselves into a heavy lump inside my chest. Tears of pain and rage were inadequate to clear away the haze of longing and desire as I lay curled in bed calling his name, cradling the mithril cuff, reliving in my mind the exquisite pleasures we had shared, and yearning for the joy of his love, ever consuming, possessive and unspoken.

Our nest had been ruthlessly stamped on. I prayed to Eru that the scorpion would not attempt to sting his enemy in retaliation, thus fulfilling my darkest prophecies and making fate rule over will.

 

~ o ~

 

Elrond’s duties to Ereinion and the realm kept him extremely busy, often into the small hours and again from dawn every day. I only saw him when he broke fast in his hall at the head of the high table, when he came into the office to consult a matter of urgency with Luinhir and during our mandatory warrior training twice a week.

One afternoon, almost at the end of my workday, I was transcribing a particularly convoluted text into the neat script demanded by Luinhir when I watched Elrond enter the large room that served as our office. A trail of greetings heralded his approach, but I ignored him, focusing instead on completing my task.

When he stopped between my desk and the window, his shadow stole the pleasant warmth of sunlight and obscured the parchment before me, forcing me to stop. Annoyed at the interruption, I put down my quill and rubbed my tired eyes, then rose to my feet without the required promptness.

‘Greetings, my lord,’ I offered, with the sketch of a bow.

‘Greetings, Erestor.’ He peered at my writing and nodded. ‘You have a sure hand. I can see Luinhir now gives to your care the pieces he would rather not tackle.’ He gave a quiet chuckle. ‘How do you like your work?’

‘Do you wish to hear the polite answer or the truth, my lord?’ I retorted.

‘The truth.’

‘The truth, my lord, is that I doubt this drudgery constitutes a major improvement from my carefree days of mucking out Ereinion’s stables,’ I grumbled. ‘And yet, I must not forget that I owe you my gratitude for this boon.’

He laughed.

‘Come with me, Erestor,’ he spoke, with the quiet tone of measured authority that turned his requests into commands.

‘May I ask where, my lord?’ I longed to return to my room, where I was free to resume my introspection and dream of my plans.

‘I am visiting Celebrimbor Curufinion, my kinsman. He has petitioned Ereinion to reconsider the refusal of the Council of Lindon to the trade of ore and refined metal with the Naugrim of the Hithaeglir, on the eastern edge of Eriador.’

‘How can I be of service during such a discussion?’

‘I am not well versed on the intricacies of trading agreements and custom tariffs,’ he admitted. Then he smiled. ‘He is being opposed by the majority of Gil-galad’s councillors on the grounds of unfair competition against local miners and smelters. Celebrimbor claims that behind the refusal lies the ever present prejudice against both the Naugrim and the exiles by those who survived the fall of Doriath. I sorely need an impartial opinion on the matter.’

‘Why me, my lord?’ I was both wary and excited at the invitation.

‘Luinhir tells me he is most pleased with your work and you deserve a rest.’ He shrugged. ‘I am not commanding you to accompany me.’

‘I would be honoured, my lord.’

I finished tidying away my quills and inkpots before picking up my cloak and following him through the door. I did not volunteer conversation, beyond answering his queries about my well-being and other light pleasantries. Soon, we walked in silence.

 

Mairon would have approved of Celebrimbor’s workshop, remarkably similar to his own lair in our house in Kiinlúum. Both were impossibly crammed with a huge collection of books, plans, fascinating devices of obscure purpose, tools of many trades and creations in different stages along their crafting.

Celebrimbor greeted us still wearing his leather apron, and covered in sweat and soot. He led us across the courtyard to another cluttered room in his small house in the Noldorin quarter of the city. There, he made room for us to sit by shifting piles of parchments and books from the chairs onto the floor. Excusing himself, he disappeared.

Elrond picked up a sketch covered in minute figures and frowned, attempting to work out what it depicted.

‘I believe it is the calculations for the load bearing of a very large bridge. What do you think?’ He passed me the parchment.

‘He is ambitious,’ I remarked, after studying the design carefully. ‘According to the figures, the span of the arches is longer than I have ever seen. The structure seems delicate. And yet, I believe it would hold...’ I ran some quick calculations in my mind, and nodded in admiration. Mairon would certainly enjoy meeting this man, if the opportunity ever arose.

‘So, now I know you are also familiar with more than the basics of engineering design,’ chuckled Elrond. I glared at him and put the parchment at the top of the pile where he had picked it from.

Elrond glanced up as our host returned, having washed and changed into clean clothes. ‘You are back, Celebrimbor,’ he exclaimed. ‘Erestor seemed rather entranced just now by one of your projects.’ He waved his hand at the drawing.

‘The bridge across the mouth of the firth of Lhûn?’ answered our host with a grimace. ‘Ereinion rejected it a few months ago. It was too expensive. You see, building the foundations and pillars would demand very specialised equipment, and men willing to work in underwater chambers. Additionally, he was wary of bridges weakening his realm, probably echoes of Nargothrond. It fell to Glaurung on the year of his coming of age, did it not? Fortunately, I was no longer there to witness its ruin or I might have similar qualms, had I survived the slaughter or being enslaved. And Círdan objected on the basis of the impact on his trading fleet.’ He sighed. ‘All my plans are doomed to be thwarted by the High King and his Council.’

‘Not all of them,’ replied Elrond soothingly. ‘In Gil-galad’s defence, he was the one who asked me to find out more about your current trade proposal.’

Celebrimbor frowned, and nodded without enthusiasm before turning his appraising gaze on me. I had made sure Mairon’s shackle was well wrapped and hoped Elrond would not direct attention to it.

‘Why are you here?’ he asked, curiously.

‘My lord Elrond invited me, Lord Cele-‘

‘I am not a lord, Erestor, but a humble Guildmaster,’ he interrupted gruffly. ‘I am of the Dispossessed. Son of a kinslayer and grandson of a kinslayer, as I am forever being reminded. In these lands, I am tolerated, not welcome. No offence to you, cousin.’   

‘None taken,’ replied Elrond placidly. ‘After all, I am a mongrel who grew up under the perilous influence of your kinslaying uncles, wearing the colours of Fëanor and the abhorred eight point star, in case you had forgotten.’ 

Both men smiled, as though sharing a private jest, and Celebrimbor clapped Elrond on the shoulder. I remembered Curufin’s son from the days of the War, when malicious, cruel whispers plagued his every step, even more so after Maedhros and Maglor stole their father’s gems from our camp.

Celebrimbor seemed strangely familiar now; perhaps his features reminded me of his great-grandfather Finwë, slain by Melkor.

He brought out three silver cups and a bottle, and began pouring generously. ‘So, cousin, what do I need to do to persuade Ereinion and his worthy Council, that nest of intriguing, back-stabbing vipers, to accept my petition?’

‘Tell us, in as much detail as you can, what the benefits and risks of such a venture would be,’ Elrond said.

We spoke well into the night, our animated conversation eased even more by the refreshing white wine from the vineyards of Harlindon. I warmed to Celebrimbor: intelligent, honest and a dreamer.  His excitement was contagious. Several times, I felt the weight of Elrond’s calculating look at the relevance of my questions, or at the sharpness of my conclusions.

As we walked home, Elrond and I agreed that Celebrimbor’s claims about the Council’s partiality against him were indeed well founded.

‘And yet,’ sighed Elrond, ‘the King may be forced to reject a perfectly sensible proposition.’

‘How so, my lord?’

‘Because leading this realm is like juggling a dozen balls at once, and he must keep them all in the air, letting none fall. There are so many conflicts of interest and such fierce rivalry amongst our peoples and the factions within them, you would have never believed our ancestors awoke together at Cuiviénen. War alone has thrown us all together, and peace sometimes threatens to pull us apart again.’

After walking a few more steps, he continued. ‘I fear Celebrimbor will not find what he seeks unless he leaves Lindon and builds a realm of his own as Oropher, one of the lords from Doriath, has done. News from his folk is rare and far between, but we know he has settled east of the Hithaeglir.’

‘Would you follow Celebrimbor, my lord?’

‘Would I?’ He was lost in thought for a while. ‘Ereinion needs me here, for now. Otherwise, one day, who knows?’