What A Tangled Net We Weave... by Grundy

Chapter 1

Read Chapter 1

Reflexes honed by nearly twenty years of getting into trouble meant that three out of four of the elflings in the palace gardens were out of sight before the echoes of the smash stopped.

Ambarussa were crouched behind a pair of rosebushes, while Irissë had scrambled up the nearest tree. Only Artanis hadn’t bolted, remaining exactly where she was – completely obvious to any adult who emerged from the palace to investigate what the noise had been. And none of them doubted that someone would.

What are you DOING? three horrified voices demanded in unison, as she moved what little remained of what had apparently been Grandmother Miriel’s favorite vase into the shadow of the fountain with enviable casualness.

Trying to keep us all from getting in big trouble, Artanis replied matter of factly. Just stay quiet and hope it’s one of your brothers or fathers who come out here.

Luck was with them – it was Findekano who had drawn the short straw this time.

“Artë? Are you all right out here? What happened?” he asked, visibly startled to find only his youngest cousin, who looked to be not only unhurt, but unconcerned.

“I fell,” she replied mournfully. “These wooden shoes are much harder to walk in than they look.”

This had the virtue of being entirely true, even if it was not quite the entire story.

Finno relaxed.

“Artanis,” he said, trying for reproachful, but too obviously relieved that it had been a false alarm to properly succeed at it. “You know those shoes are very old, they’re examples of what the Noldor used before the Journey. You’re not supposed to be playing with them.”

“You did,” Artanis protested. “I heard Atto telling Emmë the story.”

“And that’s what gave you the idea?” Findekano sighed.

Irissë had to stifle a snicker at the expression on her big brother’s face now that Artë had implied he was involved in what had been happening. Down by the fountain, Artanis maintained the slightly truculent expression of non-guilt she’d adopted the instant Finno tried his half-hearted scolding.

“Tell you what, Artë,” Finno offered. “You bring me the shoes, and I’ll put them back before Grandfather or Uncle Ara notice they’re missing. Or my father.”

Ambarussa commented tartly that he hadn’t mentioned their father.

That’s cause he’d say Artanis was clever for wanting to look at them more closely, stupid, Irissë said. And he’d say the same if he knew you were involved, ‘cept you hid first, so no more complaining that he’s nicer to us than you, cause he isn’t. And he’ll be furious with all of us if he sees the other thing we shouldn’t have been touching.

That was true enough to shut them up.

Artanis had ignored them, instead walking the wooden shoes over to Finno with a commendable show of reluctance.

“Cheer up, little one,” Finno advised cheerfully, ruffling her hair. “It doesn’t look like you did any harm to yourself or these, even if you did make an unearthly racket when you fell. No harm done.”

None of the hidden audience cared to state the obvious. Ambarussa were too busy contemplating the odds of making it safely to their other grandfather’s house before their father discovered their role in the crime, and Irissë was actually somewhat worried what her oldest brother would say if he took it into his head to walk around the fountain to make sure there had been no damage to the tiles where Artë supposedly fell.

“I guess not,” Artë sighed. “Thank you, Cousin Finno.”

Findekano disappeared back inside, shaking his head at the foolishness of youth.

No, don’t come down yet! What if he turns around? Artanis snapped before Irissë could do more than move her hand to get a better grip for descent.

She waited several interminable minutes before allowing that it was safe.

The other three emerged from their hiding places to contemplate the remains of the vase.

“Maybe we could fix it,” Irissë said hopefully.

 “How?” Ambarussa snorted. “None of us are good enough at pottery to do it. We’d need an adult to help, and all of them would recognize what it is.”

“If we try it ourselves, we’ll just get in bigger trouble,” Ambarussa agreed. “Even if Grandfather didn’t notice, Atto would.”

“No, we have to clear the shards away and hide them somewhere in an attic or an unused room so they won’t be noticed for a while,” Artanis said decisively. “Grandfather doesn’t look in that room very often, and neither does Uncle Naro.”

“He’ll notice it’s gone,” Ambarussa said darkly. “He always notices if things are out of place.”

“So we’ll find another one in the museum,” Artanis shrugged. “All these old vases look similar, we just have to make sure we get the right kind.”

“This one’s called a hydrio?” Irissë said uncertainly. “Or was it hydria? Why does what it’s used for matter for what it’s called anyway?”

“Careful, you’ll get told you’re not a proper Noldo saying we have too many words,” Artanis warned.

“Pfft, Uncle can’t say I’m not a proper Noldo,” Irissë declared with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Ammë’s as Noldo as Aunt Nerdanel. It’s only you he says that to. And he does it when you’ve come up with a question he doesn’t have an answer ready for, because it’d make him sound less clever to if he just said he doesn’t know.”

“No, it’s because he’s annoyed he hasn’t thought of the question first,” Ambarussa said sagely. “He doesn’t like it when he doesn’t know more than we do.”

“Can we argue about why I get told I’m not Noldor enough later?” Artanis asked waspishly. “We need to get rid of this now. Ambarussa, that’s your job.”

“Why me?” he demanded, aggrieved.

“Because you’re the one that dropped it in the first place.”

“I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t scared me falling over in those stupid shoes!” he protested.

Ambarussa elbowed his twin.

“Anyway,” Artanis continued, “I need Ambarussa and Irissë to come with me to the museum.”

“Why both of them?” Ambarussa asked plaintively. “Why can’t I have one of them as a lookout?”

“Because I’m going to need a distraction so I can get into the storage rooms and out again, and two of them will be better than one for that.”

Ambarussa glared at her, no happier than his father would have been to be trapped by such solid logic.

“Fine,” he grumped. “But next time we have to do something like this, I get to go with a group instead of being the lone wolf!”

“You’re not a wolf, silly,” Irissë said fondly. “You’re a brave hero.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, gathering up the shards as best he could.

Irissë frowned and shrugged out of her jacket.

“Here, use this to carry it,” she suggested. “And be careful you don’t cut yourself on the pieces.”

“It’s not as sharp as glass, and we’ve cleaned that up before too,” Ambarussa sniffed. “Get going. This isn’t one of the ‘lasts forever’ meetings they’re having today, you know.”

Artanis nodded, and headed for the west gate to the gardens, her co-conspirators trailing in her wake.

Ambarussa gathered up all but the finest shards of the shattered container. The finest pieces, practically dust, he swept into the rosebushes, gutters, and any other place they wouldn’t be spotted or thought anything of even if they were.

Then he thought about where to dispose of the larger debris. It took him a while, but he decided that the attic above Moryo’s workroom would be best. No one ever went up there. It might not be noticed for an age…

---

Artanis had been to the museum several times with her brothers, and she remembered where Ingo had gone to get the the rooms that weren’t public, which he’d gotten to visit because he was Grandfather’s grandson.

What are we going to do? Irissë asked urgently. We can’t cause a distraction here the same way we do at home.

No, that was true. At home – meaning their grandfather’s house, or any of their own houses, causing a distraction was a simple matter of making enough noise or fuss in one place that no one looked anywhere else.

You’ve got to keep one of the dozers busy, she said. But in a different room than the one I need. Tell them you want to see something in a room farther away. Something in the room about the island that sailed the sea or the room about the ships would be good.

Wouldn’t that be something you’d ask to see? Ambarussa said dubiously. And they’re docents, not dozers. Atto can give you a very long discourse on where the word came from and why it is.

Let’s skip that, Artanis replied. But it being something I’ve seen is why it will work. You heard about something in one of those rooms from me, and I’m not here because I’ve already seen it.

And, she added in a stroke of inspiration, Ambarussa isn’t here either because he sided with me when I told you about it, and you didn’t believe me!

Irissë looked intrigued by the notion.

What did you tell us about? she asked. And it should be the island room, it’s farther away from the room with the things from the land east of the sea. That gives you more time and less chance of being seen.

What about the nets? Artanis suggested. That’s something they’ll expect me to be interested in. And it doesn’t matter if you don’t know exactly which one, because you don’t know about them anyway.

What nets? Ambarussa asked curiously.

The nets they used to catch fish while the island was moving, Artanis explained. They’re different than the ones they use now on ships. And they’ve got different kinds of them, cause the Vanyar and Noldor made them different than the Lindar.

Teleri, Ambarussa corrected.

Artanis frowned.

Fight about it later! Irissë intervened. How do we know when it’s safe to not be interested in nets anymore?

I’ll tell you, Artanis said confidently. Probably only ten minutes or so. I just need long enough to get another hydria and get out again.

She didn’t elaborate on how she planned to accomplish that, and they knew better than to ask. With plans like this, it was best not to. ‘Plausible deniability’ was a phrase Curvo had taught them, and it was one they liked.

The three of them made into the museum without being noticed, and Artanis steered them confidently to the staff corridors, and to a wing that had windows on one side of a long hallway and doors opening into storage and research rooms on the other. They stopped, contemplating the hall in either direction.

There’s the room I need to get into, Artanis told them, pointing to the third door on the left. But there’s someone in the next room. The island room is the fifth room the other way. Tell me once you’re inside, so I’ll know it’s safe to come out of here.

She slipped silently into the nearest room.

Ok, here goes the distraction, Irissë said confidently.

If Artanis ran into anyone else, she’d be on her own, but there weren’t that many staff working at this time of the afternoon. And really, the two of them should be able to hold everyone’s attention.

“You do the talking,” Ambarussa muttered as they heard the scratching of a pen on parchment.

“Are you going to start about ‘everyone makes more fuss over you cause you’re girls’ thing again?” Irissë asked suspiciously.

“No, I’m just going to say it once cause it’s true. There’s plenty of princes in Tirion, but only a few princesses. Of course everyone pays more attention when they get to talk to one of you. It’s only annoying when you get out of trouble because of it.”

“I just get in less trouble in the first place,” Irissë informed him airily.

That was what got the attention of the researcher they were interrupting, who was understandably startled to find two of King Finwë’s youngest grandchildren standing before her unaccompanied.

“What are you two children doing here?” she asked, adding a belated, “my prince and princess?”

“Can you show us the nets Artanis was talking about?” Irissë asked, doing her best to sound both slightly uncertain and a little bit dubious.

“Which nets did your cousin mean, Princess?” the hapless researcher asked. “I’m sure I can show you nets, if you tell me which ones you’re looking for. And if I can’t, I’m sure the director can.”

“No, it’s not that important that we need to bother Master Rumil,” Ambarussa said hastily.

“I think he sees enough of us on tutoring days,” Irissë added, with just the right note in her voice to make the researcher suspect that by ‘sees’ she meant ‘is annoyed by’. “We ask a lot of questions.”

She hadn’t expected Rumil to be here today, but if he was, it was better he not be bothered – he knew them well enough to know when they were up to something.

“Right, well, if you just tell me more about the nets, I’m sure we can avoid disturbing Master Rumil,” the researcher offered hastily, now eager to get rid of them without looking like she was getting rid of them. If they tried Rumil’s patience…

“The ones they used when we were on the island crossing the sea,” Ambarussa ‘explained’ helpfully.

“I take it by ‘we’, you mean the Noldor who undertook the Journey, my prince?” the researcher asked with that expression adults used when they think they knew a lot more than kids.  “You’re a touch too young to have been on Tol Eressëa yourselves.”

Irissë nodded, helpfully treading on Ambarussa’s foot as if stopping him from saying something silly. (It wasn’t anything worse than they got from their older brothers, and even if it was, it wasn’t like they were in any position to tattle.)

“Yes, that’s the one,” she said. “Artanis said there’s bunches of nets.”

“Bunches might be a slight exaggeration, Princess, but there are a variety of nets. They’re at the other end of the corridor, though. This way, please.”

The two of them let her usher them down the hall, about as far as it was possible to get from the vase room, and when the door of the island room closed behind them, Irissë sent Artë a silent go!

Then she and Ambarussa started coming up with questions about nets to keep the nice researcher safely occupied.

---

That was where Irissë’s rather exasperated father found them an hour later, and led them back to Grandfather’s after profusely apologizing to the researcher who had fetched a colleague for assistance. The pair of researchers had been thoroughly educating Irissë and Ambarussa in the differences between the style of net constructed by the Vanyar during the Journey and the styles currently in use by the Teleri.

“I am so sorry that they interrupted your work for a trivial dispute with their cousin,” Nolofinwë told the not at all bothered museum staff.

“They were a very interested audience, Prince Nolofinwë,” the research Irissë suspected she’d think of as ‘the net man’ forever assured him. “They asked better questions than some twice their age.”

Nolofinwë pinned his daughter and nephew with a stare that was rather more knowing than they liked.

“All the same,” he said, “they should not have come unaccompanied and on a whim. Such questions should have been held until their next session with Master Rumil.”

“Yes, Atto,” Irissë murmured penitently.

“We won’t do it again, Uncle,” Ambarussa added. “Thank you, Masters, for your kind assistance.”

His uncle’s mouth tugged up into a suppressed smile at that.

“Let’s go, young ones,” Nolofinwë said firmly.

Irissë shot the museum staff a brilliant smile as he herded them out the door.

There was no sign of Artanis on their way out of the museum.

They found her ensconced on the couch in Grandfather’s study, with Ambarussa next to her. The slight smirk she gave them meant she’d finished her job, though the adults would probably think she was reveling in having been right about the nets.

And ‘adults’ meant not just Grandfather and Grandmother and Atto, but Uncle Ara and Uncle Naro too, which meant they were in trouble – but at least it was the minor trouble they’d meant to be in, not the more serious trouble they’d have been in for if Artanis had gotten caught. Uncle Naro would be furious if he’d realized what they’d done.

“Oh, you were still at the museum?” Artanis asked eagerly. “Did you get to see them?”

“Yeah, it was brilliant,” Irissë began, but as she’d expected, she didn’t actually get any farther than that as the fathers in the room began taking turns telling their offspring just how their behavior had been disappointing today – including Grandfather telling his sons that they were being too hard on children who were only curious.

The four of them felt slightly guilty at that part, because Grandfather would probably be very disappointed if he knew they’d broken Grandmother Miriel’s special vase. But he didn’t know, and Artanis had replaced it with one that looked similar enough that unless Uncle Naro decided to go poking around in her things – which he rarely did – he wouldn’t notice either.

It’s the same size and shape, and has the same design, it’s just the color is slightly different on the base and the handles, Artanis explained serenely once the scolding was over and they’d been turned loose in the garden again. It was probably made by the same person.

That’s good, Ambarussa nodded. But I think we’d better leave it where it is.

There’s no reason to take it out anyway, Irissë said practically. We’ve already shown it’s harder than it looks to get water in one of those while wearing those stupid old-fashioned shoes.

I don’t know, the shoes might not be so troublesome if I hadn’t been walking on tile, Artanis mused. All the same, if we ever try actually filling it with water again, I think I will do it barefoot. Just to be safe.

If barefoot was so much safer, why did they make the shoes? Ambarussa wanted to know.

I don’t know, Irissë replied. But I think we’d better save finding that out for another day. We’ve already had enough scoldings today.

She hesitated.

And maybe next time, Artë, we could just ask someone?

All three of her cousins regarded her in astonishment.

“Where would the fun be in that?” Ambarussa laughed.