Heroes iii) Play. by hennethgalad

Chapter 3

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                                                 Play. 

 

 

   It was a steep climb to Marda Ingolë, where Curumo dwelt. Glorfindel paused to gaze out at the darkness to the East, all the Calacirya lay before him. On the far side the white towers of Tirion shone in the light of Laurelin, a haze rising from the many trees of the city blurred the lines of the spires, and for a moment he wished he were back there, not on his way to face the High King and a Maia, Curumo the wise. He was surprised at himself, to already be wistful for Tirion, after only a day... He looked up at the tower of Curumo, whom many considered the wisest of the Maia. Even Olórin spoke highly of him, and there was none whose judgement weighed more in the thought of Glorfindel. 

   The path was bordered by dark hedges, cut by skilled hands into smooth lines; at measured intervals spear trees stood, as neat as the hedges, pointing at the sky. The garden did not look to have grown, but to to have been constructed. There were white flowers in tidy beds, and close-trimmed lawns, with a few strange metal objects, as globes, cubes or curving spirals, gleaming in the bright Light. It was altogether strange to Glorfindel after the flourishing greenery of the farm, or the bright swirl of Tirion. He smiled, he would not be daunted by a mere garden. 

 

    The tall doors stood wide, Glorfindel stepped gladly into the cool shade, where an attendant offered him water, to drink, and to bathe his warm face. As he dried his hands, Ingwë, High King of all Elvendom, and favoured of Manwë, came through the wide-open doors to the back garden, smiling happily.

    "Ah ! Young Glorfindel ! I know your grandfather, a most respected scholar. Yes. He has never forgiven your mother for becoming a farmer. But there, the fresh crop brings fresh promise. We dine in the garden, do follow me."

 

   Glorfindel, who had bowed in silence, followed in silence. He had never been close enough to speak to Ingwë before, he had not even known that his grandfather knew the High King, for neither his grandfather nor his mother had ever mentioned such a thing. He thought of the old Elf, who long before had come from the darkness, following his King into the West. His grandfather had been kind, but set in his ways, considering Valinor to be perfect, requiring only that everything remain exactly as it was, and for his three children to become exactly as he was, quiet and studious, poring over the same few approved texts to wring the last dregs of life from every word. Glorfindel thought of overhearing his mother, talking in a low voice to his father, venting her anger at the old Elf and his loathing of anything in the least different or unfamiliar. 

 

   There were wide corridors on each side of the great hall, and more of the metal shapes, especially spirals. But on the floor, in gold and bright gems, a vast mosaic glittered underfoot. The pattern was abstract and difficult to see, much less to interpret. The chief colour was gold, there were more spirals, picked out in deep blue, highlighted in dark red, and other shapes whose names he did not know. He paused to look, and Ingwë turned. Glorfindel looked up into the calm blue eyes. 

   "My lord, is there some significance to these spirals ?"

   Ingwë smiled warmly, but his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

   "You must ask that question of Curumo, and please, this is not a formal occasion, please call me Ingwë. I am a friend of the family today, not the High King."

    Glorfindel bowed again, but Ingwë laughed and with a swirl of pale gold hair turned and stepped lightly down the broad stair into the garden. 

 

    Curumo was tall and dark, his eyes intent under thick brows, his hair bound back by a thin band of white gold. His robe was of a green so dark that it seemed almost black, but with the faintest shimmer in the Light, as the wings of a bird. He smiled kindly at Glorfindel and gestured to a seat at the marble table on the terrace. 

   "Welcome to Marda Ingolë, please refresh yourself."

   With his long-fingered hand he poured the wine himself, and Glorfindel picked up the delicate silver goblet with a smile. 

    "Walk in the Light, Curumo the wise, it is my honour to meet you."

    Curumo sat with slow dignity and raised his wine.

    "Grace of the Valar upon you, Glorfindel, and tell us your thoughts on the wine, if it please you."

     Glorfindel glanced down at the pale wine, and sniffed at the rim, then took a careful sip. The wine was soft, he thought of peaches, and the scent of blossom. As he swallowed it melted away, dissolving into mist, light as cloud.

    "Oh ! It is delicious !" he exclaimed "Truly, the most delicious wine I have ever tried, though, alas, I am young, and was raised quietly. May I know the vintage ?"

     Curumo laughed and raised his glass to Ingwë, who acknowledged the praise with a nod and a smile. 

     "It is my own Nectar, you find me delivering some barrels to my old friend Curumo, it seemed a good time to invite you, since we both have questions for you."

 

     Glorfindel gaped, and looked from one to the other "Questions ? But my lords, I... my lord Curumo, Ingwë, I know nothing, nothing ! I am so ignorant that I have come to Tirion as a... as a child, to learn. Ask me again in a hundred years, if it please you."

     They laughed, but not cruelly, and Glorfindel frowned for a moment, wondering again what he was doing with such people, why he was there. Ingwë put his head on one side, the fine pale hair hung like a sheet of thin silk, the Light shone through it, glowing on the fair face of the king. Glorfindel looked at him curiously.

    "Curumo, Glorfindel wishes to know the meaning of the spirals."

 

     Glorfindel, pleased that the subject seemed to have changed, turned with interest to the Maia, who sat back with his elbows on the arms of his chair, holding his goblet loosely between his hands, looking thoughtfully at Glorfindel. 

    "Ah." he said slowly, in his deep, pleasing voice. Ingwë sipped his wine and shook his head, then smiled again at Glorfindel.

    "My question, then, is whether you would like to join my household, to become a member of my Guard, though what there is to Guard against here, none can say. The Enemy cannot assail Valinor, and though his beasts still trouble the frontiers of our watch, none have passed the lines. Nevertheless... 

   It is the old custom, and I would not dishonour the past. 

   But there is also the future to consider, and I think it best to prepare for whatever may be, and even in Valmar, echoes of the disquiet of the Noldor reaches our ears."

    Ingwë spoke for some time, Glorfindel listened in silence, sipping the exquisite wine, hearing the familiar phrases, and wondering how he knew so well what Ingwë would say. Slowly it came to him, these were the very words his own grandfather used, after a feast, with his family around him; he would speak at length of the glories of the old days and the light of the stars. At times, when the restlessness of youth made Glorfindel squirm in his seat, he would wonder why, if the old Elf had loved the old ways and the old light so much, why he had ever followed the Call.  

   

   But Ingwë had been High King for a long time, he could see the restlessness in the eyes of Glorfindel, though the youngster held himself politely still, his eyes fixed on Ingwë.

    "But there, you must take your time, and choose with care. Yes. You will be welcome at my house when you are ready. Life is long, and there is no one path to the Light."

     Curumo rose to his feet.

    "Let us retire to the shade and dine, it is a steep climb up the hill, you will be hungry, no doubt."

 

    The table, the dishes, the knives, the goblets, all were of gold, the room was silver, the candles reflected from every surface, it was like being inside a sparkling gem, Glorfindel exclaimed with pleasure. Curumo smiled with satisfaction, and showed him to a seat. Three servants carried plates laden with delicacies, and moving together as though in a dance, laid them before each diner at once, then smoothly withdrew. Curumo again poured wine, this time a dry, fresh vintage, with a flavour of apples and green herbs. 

 

    The food was colourful and elaborate, with complex layers of tastes, Glorfindel ate slowly, wondering what he was eating, and what his sister would make of these dishes. He smiled to himself and looked at Curumo.

   "Is cooking among your accomplishments, my lord ? It is the chief delight of my sister, who would be fascinated by these dishes."

   Curumo smiled. "Ah, Little Gold Tree, yes, I am familiar with the work of your sister. An excellent cook, great skill with flavour, very impressive. But here, where the brightest minds gather to learn together, we have come to regard cooking as a high art, and these dishes are the work of my best student, who far surpassed anything I could teach long ago. There is no question that we would not strive to answer here, from the measurement of stars to the measurement of salt in a sauce. If you were to join us, think what you could learn !"

   "I ? I, join you among the wise ? Surely you jest, my lord, I am a simple farmer, keen on running, athletics and the feats of the body, not a great thinker or scholar. Indeed, unless I am mistaken, you were disappointed that I could not grasp the meaning of your spirals."

   "Forgive me, I was indelicate, but I am sincere. For you at least recognised that there might be a significance, and if you had spent half as long at your studies as you did in the fields, you would certainly know them for a mathematical representation of a series of numbers. But this is not the time for such questions. Your grandfather believes you to be as likely a student as he has ever proposed, and I have not had cause to question his judgement. Indeed, your mother was here for a time, but when she met your father, well..." Curumo tailed off politely, as though skirting an indiscretion that must be delicately avoided. Glorfindel felt a stab of indignation, thinking his father worth two of the Maia, for all his gold plates. But Ingwë laughed. 

   "Poor Curumo, how dare people have lives apart from study, eh ? But if none of us ever married, there would be no new students at Marda Ingolë, and no new questions to answer."

   Curumo sniffed, then smiled politely "Well, after all, Elves are Elves... But how about a game, when we have dined, Stratagem, perhaps ? One of my apprentices has crafted a board of remarkable beauty which I am eager to display."

   Ingwë raised his glass. 

   "Nessa guide us and Oromë favour us ! Yes. It is long since last I faced a confident opponent."

 

   Glorfindel pressed his lips together doubtfully, he knew the game, it was simple to learn, but far from simple to play, requiring much anticipation of the opponent, and considerable tactical skill. It would be simpler to confront one of the fell beasts than challenge two such wits to the game. But he smiled. 

   "It might be more eloquent of me to play my best than to explain myself badly. For you will defeat me with so little effort that you will soon see that I am a feeble opponent, and an unlikely candidate for study or for the protection of the King."

  "Come now, surely your grandfather has taught you, yes ? It may be long since last he had the better of me, but then he has not been plagued by young upstarts as I have, endlessly challenging me to prove myself again ! 'Ware, Curumo ! For I am ready to defeat you !"

   Curumo laughed "Excellent ! This way, if it please you."

 

  The board was polished crystal, sheared into smooth sheets, the game laid out in thin gold thread, the four tiers of the boards opened like the branches of a tree, each twig in clear crystal. The pieces were gems, carved into the traditional shapes, each in its place, rubies in one corner, then emeralds, sapphires and diamonds. The whole was lit by the Light of the Trees, refracting from every surface, scattering glints of light onto their robes and onto the smooth white stone of the table. Ingwë sighed. 

    "Yes. Yes, it is a masterpiece, truly. My compliments to the crafter."

   "It is yours, Ingwë, you are the finest Stratagem player in Elvendom, and the only worthy holder of such a piece. Besides, you are the only one other than Olórin who is worthy of a game. You will treat it with the respect it merits, and indeed, more people will see it in your Hall than ever climb the hill to me."

   "Why Curumo, what a marvellous gift ! I shall be the envy of all who have ever played Stratagem. But alas, should I bring this piece to my house, my challengers would double in number and enthusiasm, and my peace would be at an end."

   "You must find a champion, my lord, to fight in your place and defend your honour."

   They both turned to look at Glorfindel, who heard the words he had spoken in innocence as they must have heard them.  "I... I do not mean myself, sire, I can scarcely defeat a child at Stratagem. But someone... someone who can defeat my grandfather, who would see off the challengers until they themselves were defeated. Then you would face fewer battles."

   "That sounds very... strategic. Yes. But let us play !"

 

   Ingwë chose sapphires, Curumo diamonds, and Glorfindel took emeralds, the favourite gem of Elves everywhere. He caught the fading of a kindly smile as Ingwë turned to Curumo.

   "The host has privilege." 

   Curumo nodded, his eyes already fixed on the board, seeing not the empty lines but the coming arrangements, planning, preparing. There was a stillness in him which held the two Elves in its grip, so that when Curumo finally placed his piece, Glorfindel felt almost deflated, it was a move a child could make, a move he himself had often begun with. He suppressed a smile, after all, it was the first move.

 

   The atmosphere, strangely, became easier when the game was underway. Glorfindel played with such focus that he almost forgot who his opponents were, and as they commented and jested, he felt that they too were merely at play, as though the companions of his childhood, rather than the King and the most renowned of Maia save Eonwë. And at first, and for a time, Glorfindel held his own, and as he took a piece from Curumo to place himself ready to attack Ingwë, he saw Ingwë staring unseeingly at him, and wondered what memory he had unwittingly evoked. 

 

   But after a time, the traps set for him were sprung, his canny opponents divided his forces and the green on the beautiful board was swept aside by sapphire and clear diamond. But as his own moves became less significant, he grew more absorbed by the tactics of the other two, and insight came to him, that Curumo wished only to win, and win well, which made his moves predictable even to Glorfindel. But the advantage of knowing what the Maia would do did not offer much help, for every move was also a trap, and every piece taken from Curumo extracted a terrible price.

 

  But Ingwë played for the joy of the game, to stretch his mind, to lose himself in the inconsequential seriousness of the game, and for the exhilaration of the challenge. This made him impossible to predict, he would make moves that could have no other goal than prolonging the game, he was like a musician that will not end the tune, and the exasperation of Curumo became apparent even to Glorfindel. But Ingwë too laid traps, and the board grew emptier, and the servants brought more wine, and still they played, Ingwë dancing, as it were, round the board, while Curumo, relentless as Mandos, hunted him, chasing him from board to board, cornering him only to see himself beseiged from another direction. It was fascinating, and as the wine lifted his spirits, Glorfindel knew that he would always remember the day he played Stratagem with two such expert players, with two such people. 

 

   But as the time passed, the moves took longer, the elaborate plans of each were coming to fruition, every placement could mean victory or defeat, every piece was moved more slowly, until Glorfindel forgot himself and sighed. Curumo, without the least flicker of his eyes, lifted a finger, and a servant placed a long box on the table in front of him. He sighed himself, then sat back in his chair and looked at Glorfindel.

   "I have a gift for you, Glorfindel of Little Gold Tree, and alas, now that Ingwë has defeated me, though he has not seen it yet, I should like to stretch my legs awhile."

  They both looked at him, then at the board. Ingwë exclaimed wordlessly and placed a sapphire in the fountain square, lifting aside the diamond and dropping it into the outstretched hand of Curumo. 

   "Victory ! By Tulkas, what a game ! Yes. I was certain that you had it, I thought myself finished three rounds ago... But I think you had your mind on other gifts than mine ?"

 

   Curumo smiled, Glorfindel and Ingwë looked at the box, as Curumo lifted the lid and handed a sword to Glorfindel. 

   Ingwë looked curiously at Glorfindel, but the face of Curumo was still. Glorfindel looked down at the long shining blade, he had never held a sword before. There were few in existence as far as he knew, he had only ever seen a display of the wielding skill once, when two Noldor from Tirion had come to a nearby festival. He had been small, and allowed to stand in front of his father who had watched over his head. The two athletes had danced around, striking each other’s blades, as it had seemed to him, until one had feinted, and thrust the blunt sword against the chest of his startled opponent. 

   With a shock Glorfindel had seen that that had been the purpose of each move, that the clash of sword on sword was keeping the swords from striking the body. With horror he had realised that swords could be sharpened, and that instead of fighting the beasts of the Enemy, Elves might one day fight each other. For it was certain that these were not hunting weapons. He was not alone in his understanding, and people had drifted away, and swords had not been seen again in that part of the country. But here were more. He looked up at Ingwë, who pursed his lips, sadness in his eyes.

 

   "Alas. The sword. What a loathesome thing. But there are fears that the Enemy could bring armies in from the North, across the ice. For those of our kindred taken from us at the beginning have been broken and corrupted by his craft, and they are armed with swords. Yes, and more...

   We do not speak of such darkness, here in Valinor, and the Enemy himself knows that he cannot prevail here. But we would not lose a single Elf to his malice, for all are precious. Yes. Therefore we are turning our thought to the last defence, should our lines be overrun. I too have learned the skill of wielding. 

   Come, young athlete, lift your blade to me, and I shall show you stratagems ! Yes." He laughed, but there was a shadow in his eye that had not been there before, and he would not look at Curumo.  But the Maia smiled at Glorfindel 

   "I know just the place, come."

 

   They climbed the stairs that spiralled up the inner wall of the tower, each window they passed facing a different way, presenting them with an ever-changing view that set the mind spinning. Laurelin was fading, the forests glowed deep green, and the melodious birds filled the air with music. The echoes of their footsteps were loud and sharp, for a moment Glorfindel had the urge to sing, or to shout, to set the echoes booming, but he folded his lips firmly to dampen his laughter. 

 

   There was a broad space on the roof, with chest-high walls all round. Curumo smiled at the raised eyebrows of Glorfindel.

    "What need for walls, eh ? I watch the sky from here, and at times I walk about, with my eyes upwards. More than once I have walked into the wall, backwards at times, and if it were not there, well, I would not be here."

    Ingwë laughed, indeed, it was almost a giggle, and it came to Glorfindel that the Maia made Ingwë feel young, and carefree, that he felt able to lay aside duty and responsibility for a time in the presence of the mighty Curumo. 

 

    "So, Glorfindel, you have seen the sword in use before ?"

    "I, well, once, long ago..."

    Curumo nodded. "Hold it so." and swiftly showed Glorfindel how to hold and wield the sword. Glorfindel thought of Stratagem, simple to play... Ingwë had taken the other sword and was twisting it swiftly through the air. 

    "It is best to loosen the wrist before you begin, the blows send shocks through the sinews, do you look to yourself."

   Glorfindel nodded and swung the sword, it glinted in the Light, the intricate swirls of metal in the blade fascinated him, but more than the blade, the dance. And the thought that he would be facing Ingwë himself, under the watchful eyes of Curumo, the very first time he wielded a sword. He breathed deeply, it seemed that the day would never end.  

 

   Ingwë stood opposite him, the sword held up, slanting across his chest, Glorfindel looked over at Curumo, who leant against the wall, his goblet in hand, his eyes watchful and hooded, shadowy in the fading Light. Ingwë stood still as stone, Glorfindel copied his stance, and met his eyes. Ingwë smiled faintly and nodded. Curumo, in his low resonant voice, said "Play."

 

   There was a blur of movement, Glorfindel found his body reacting before his mind had the wit to grasp what had happened, as the sword of Ingwë flashed through the air. It slid down the blade of Glorfindel until the hilts clashed, causing the sword to buck in his hand like a startled horse. As he dropped the suddenly-alive blade, Ingwë stepped gracefully aside, holding his own sword upright before his face. But Glorfindel was already moving, he lunged after his sword, which seemed to tumble slowly through the still air, his hand grasped for the hilt and caught it, his momentum carried him forwards, he spun on one foot and whisked around, and came to rest facing Ingwë, the sword once more upraised in his hand.

 

    Ingwë laughed and threw his sword high above his head, snatching it from the air as it turned and fell, sparkling, into his hand. He bowed, flourishing the sword and pointing it at the floor. Glorfindel, bemused, bowed back, but Ingwë had turned to Curumo, who was standing upright, his eyebrows raised. 

    "You see it? What speed, what decisiveness, what a swift grasp !" he laughed, but Curumo shook his head 

   "He is not the only swift-witted athlete in Elvendom, nor under the shadow."

    Ingwë took in a sharp breath. "Yes. Yes of course, you speak truly. But never mind the foes we may never see, look at what we have found !"

    Glorfindel looked from one to the other, in doubt. 

    "But, but I dropped my sword..."

     Ingwë laughed, and stepped lightly to stand by Glorfindel. He placed a hand upon his shoulder.

     "It was my intention to teach you first to disarm. I am pleased, by Tulkas, that I managed first time ! Yes. But you, ah, my fine athlete, you caught it ! I have not seen that done. This is your first time with a sword, but you move as one who has trained for years."

 

    Glorfindel thought of his life and blushed, but the sword in his hand was another tool, as the spade or the rake, to be wielded with care. His eyes met those of Curumo, who nodded approvingly.

   "But he has, dear Ingwë, it is a tool, he has grown up with tools in his hands, and his sinews are fluent in the wielding ! Still, the speed is remarkable, and no amount of training can amend its lack. The grace of Tulkas, and of Nessa the swift, are with you Glorfindel."

   Beside Glorfindel, Ingwë had turned thoughtful eyes upon him. He looked at the wise, fair face of the High King, and saw him for the Elf he was, harassed even in Valinor, threatened by the shadow which seemed to linger in every corner, spreading doubt, turning discussion to debate, debate to dispute, and now there were swords...

For the first time, Glorfindel thought of the world as Ingwë must see it, and his mind recoiled, the burden was far too much for one person, his mother was right...

 

  "Perhaps, my... perhaps, Ingwë, you need champions of another sort, to stand between you and the grievances of the Elves ? Champions among the wise, to listen to problems and to solve them. Champions who have the trust of those they listen to, chosen by those they would aid..."

   Ingwë sighed and nodded "Yes. I know these thoughts, I share them. The Vanyar speak often of such matters, but you know how we hate change ! Alas for Valmar, our people drift away, to Tirion or even to Alqualondë, and those who return, the few who return, overflow with new songs, new colours, new ideas. And people listen and talk excitedly for a time, but then it is the next festival, the next feast, the next choral host, and all is forgotten.

    But these are my problems, not yours, for you the great voyage begins ! Yes. You have much to learn, and I trust that you will not fail. Such promise ! Everyone is eager to instruct you ! Curumo wants you here among the books, I want you in Valmar to help me awaken the Vanyar from their daydream, Olórin wants you in Tirion, keeping an eye on the Noldor." He stopped suddenly, looking horrified at himself, almost covering his mouth, and looked guiltily at Curumo.

 

   "Ah." said Curumo, clearing his throat. "Ah, I must emphasise that I merely speculate as to the motives of my esteemed colleague. But the paths of his mind wander as his steps, and there is no fathoming him. It is merely my supposition."

   "Indeed. Yes. But I also would have asked that same thing. Will you, Glorfindel, watch the Noldor for us ? And for all who are not of their number ? I do not say 'pry' or ask awkward questions ! I have people whose business it is to be unnoticeable, they are the ones who pry. No, I would have you merely listen, watch, and tell me what you see. For it is certain that you will be admitted to many select gatherings, and I would learn the mood of such people. Will you do this thing ?"

    "My lord, you are the High King. It is my honour to be your aid in every need. But sire, I am... I am young, I was raised quietly, on the farm, I know nothing of the subtleties of life in Tirion, I can offer you no insight."

    Ingwë smiled "Quite so, quite so. Nevertheless, with your mind free from the clutter  of gossip and faction, I trust that you may see clearly where others are blinded by habit and prejudice."

    Glorfindel nodded slowly, then straightened up and bowed formally. 

    "I understand, sire. You mean that since I am not kin to any of the Noldor, nor yet raised in Valmar, that I shall be... dispassionate, and perhaps trusted more than I might otherwise be in Tirion."

 

     Curumo made a small sound of approval. Glorfindel felt as proud as when his mother had thrown him into the air as a child when he did well, to catch him laughing in her arms and fill him with joy. "Your thought is as swift as your body, Glorfindel, and I trust that we shall find you among us at times, when you have questions. The doors of Marda Ingolë stand ever open, you may consider this a second home. Indeed, since I am far nearer to you than Valmar is, I encourage you to bring your news to us here, and I, who am in constant communication with Valmar, can pass on your tidings."

     "I cannot express my gratitude for your kindness, nor my surprise that you should act with such kindness towards one such as myself. But I am sure that I do you a disservice, and that you are always as kind as you are wise."

     Ingwë laughed "You will do very well in Tirion with such eloquent charm ! Yes. You will win their hearts, and their confidence."