The Elendilmir by pandemonium_213

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Chapter 5: Falcon and Tercel

Sámaril is introduced to the Queen's peregrines and sets his hands and mind to something other than alloys and equations.

Thanks to Moreth, Rhapsody and oshun for their comments! Likewise, many thanks to Gandalf's Apprentice for letting me borrow her birds (see link to The Sword of Elendil in the Story Notes).

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The falcon plummeted from the crystal-blue sky, so swift that even I could make out no details of the bird, just a blur of blue-grey and white streaking through the winter-crisp air. Queen Isilmë, her arm outstretched, stood near the edge of the drop-off, the snow-blanketed valley rolling away before her feet. At the last minute, the peregrine unfolded its wings, spreading them to break its fall. The bird lofted up slightly, its talons extended, and settled on the long leather glove that covered the queen’s arm.

“Here’s my lady!” Isilmë offered a gobbet of raw meat to the falcon, which snagged it with her hooked beak, wolfed it down, and eyed the pouch hanging from Isilmë’s belt. The queen dipped her fingers into the small oiled-leather sack and rewarded her falcon with another bloody treat. She then slowly walked back to where Valandil, Gaereth, Lady Vórwen – the queen’s senior attendant - and I watched.

“This is Fâniel,” she said, keeping her eye on the peregrine. “I hope to take her to the moors next spring and hunt duck and grouse. The moors look to be good hunting ground.”

“They are, my lady queen,” I said. “The hunters of Imladris gather most of our game birds from the moors.”

“Have you ever taken a falcon to hunt?”

“No. Our hunters do not use hawks or falcons but spaniels.”

“Now that could be a marvelous combination: an elven-trained spaniel and my Fâniel. I hope that you might tear yourself away from the forge long enough to join me in the hunt, Istyar. Falconry is marvelous sport!”

“You might be able to persuade me, my lady, once winter’s past us.”

The tercel spiraled above, calling in frustration while his larger, more powerful mate was coddled and fed.

“Alagos has become wild again,” the queen said, squinting up at the circling bird. “He has always had a head of his own, that one, but Fâniel likes people.”

The falcon looked to the queen and then at me, curiosity glinting in her gold-ringed obsidian eyes. She shifted on the queen’s arm, digging her talons into the leather glove, when she heard her name. Isilmë stroked Fâniel’s pale breast, the buff feathers patterned with distinctive black barred markings. The bird accepted her touch and even seemed to enjoy it.

“I believe that Maico and Rámë’s blood runs truer in Fâniel than it does in Alagos. But even if he’s wild, he is loyal, I will say that for him. They followed us from Annúminas.”

Fâniel piqued my curiosity. I had seen many raptors, including the kestrels and eagles that soared over Eregion and here over Imladris, but never so close.

“Who are Maico and Rámë?”

“Rámë and her mate, Maico, were the ancestors of my peregrines. They appeared in the skies over Rómenna not long after Elendil and I wed. We did not know whence they came, but they made their nest in the cliffs above the sea and circled our villa. They became our protectors, watching over our home for the spies – his spies.” A shadow passed over her face, and Fâniel let loose a clatter of alarm calls, flapping her wings in agitation. Alagos clacked in response, his harsh cries rebounding off the cliffs.

“Shhh! There, there, my lady! No darkness dwells here.” She soothed the bird, which settled back on her arm.

“Rámë and Maico were so intelligent, Istyar. I hope you do not think I am foolish for saying this, but I believe the Elder King sent them to us – that they were his servants who took the form of peregrines. They hunted with us and watched over us for many years – far longer than the lifespan of the typical falcon. They raised several broods of chicks that spread into the peregrine population of the island. They were with us for one hundred and forty years, and then they left as mysteriously as they had arrived. Two of their descendants – a mated pair - fled from the ruin with us.”

Slowly, I reached out and with my left forefinger and stroked the falcon’s soft breast feathers. The falcon bent over and nibbled my finger.

“I don’t think that is a foolish notion at all, my lady queen. I’ll venture to say that falcons who live for nearly a yén are unusual,” I said, admiring the beautiful bird. “Look at her. She seems as though she is ready to speak.”

The queen regarded the falcon with affection. “I have always thought so, too.”

The queen then raised her arm quickly – the signal for Fâniel to depart. The falcon leapt to flight, joining her mate in the sky overhead. The pair soared away down the valley.

“Thank you for indulging me,” the queen said, pulling off the leather glove. “Shall we attend to the business at hand?”

I led the three women and child into the forge and thence to my workshop where winter sunlight streamed through the line of windows that faced the South.

Had anyone told me that I would touch a raptor for the first time in my nearly fourteen yéni of life or that a queen of Men and her grandson would form an attachment to me - a sometimes irascible Noldo driven by thirst for knowledge but marred by grief and guilt - I would have snorted derisively in disbelief. But of late, these mortals had become part of the rhythm of my life.

~*~

After my first lunch with him, Val with Gaereth in tow once again had appeared in my office. This time, Naurusnir had to retrieve me from the forge where I tried yet again to replicate the fabled steel of the East.

My latest formulation had been at the verge of changing phase. I focused on the subtleties of the color of the coals and the alloy itself to ascertain the rate of cooling. At that critical juncture, Nauruscnir found me. Although he said nothing, just stood silently and waited as I took my measurements, his presence nonetheless distracted me.

“What do you want?” I had snapped, tearing my eyes from the glowing alloy, its edges beginning to darken.

“Forgive me, Istyar. Your young friend - the prince - is here again with his nursemaid. They await you in your office.”

“Just wait until I…” but when I looked at the crucible, I saw that the alloy had frozen into its solid state while my eyes were averted. I had lost my opportunity to observe the pattern of the phase change and correlate it with the cooling rate. Further examination revealed that the crystallization pattern was uneven. Another failed experiment.

“Ai! Can’t that child leave me in peace?”

Naurusnir had eyed me reproachfully, but I ignored him as I removed the crucible from central furnace and dampened the flues. I grabbed my shirt, thrown across a nearby workbench, and wriggled it over my head while striding out of the forge and to my office.

Neither this child nor his grandmother was my regent nor was I their subject to be commanded at a whim. Yet here I was, dropping what I was doing to meet the child. Why could I not say “no” to him?

Gaereth rose to greet me as I entered my office. She flinched, likely because my vexation must have expressed itself in my face. But Val was unquenched. A small muslin bag lay in his lap.

“Istyar? I have brought the rest of my soldiers.” He held up the bag, lumpy from the clutch of toys jammed within it. “Will you please make them strong again?”

“Ai, Val! I’m busy with my own work! You interrupted me in the middle of a crucial experiment.”

Immediately, I regretted my words. Val’s bright little face darkened with disappointment, and he hung his head. A slight sniffle informed me that tears were on their way.

I dropped to my knees beside Val and lifted his chin with my soot-stained fingers, leaving dusky smudges on his baby-soft skin.

“Val, I’m sorry. You just caught me at a critical moment. I can always repeat the experiment.”

He met my gaze, but his eyes swam with tears.

“Why don’t I ask Master Calaquar to repair your soldiers? He is more skilled than I am with wood. He could accomplish this much more quickly, and you’d have your soldiers back in no time.”

Val hung his head again.

“You really want me to repair these, don’t you?”

He raised his eyes and nodded slightly.

His voice barely audible, he whispered, lowering his eyes again, “I want you to make them strong, Istyar.”

“But why me, Val?”

“Because I like you.”

He leaned forward from the edge of the chair and wrapped his little arms around me, pressing his cheek against mine. The joy of affection, the anguish of love lost, and the warning against attachment all surged to break through the numbness that armored my heart. Just like the push-pull of my irritation when I left my work in mid-stream but yearning all the same to see the child, so my emotions jerked back and forth. I enveloped him in my arms and attempted to ground my conflict.

“Very well,” I said as I pulled away, wiping a tear from Val’s cheek with the sleeve of my shirt. “I’ll make them strong again and bring them back to you like I did before.”

Small arms wrapped around me once again, and I thought my heart would break.

Although a departure from my usual endeavors, the simple act of refurbishing the figures had soothed me. In the midst of failure after failure with my latest experiments in the forge, carving the figures allowed for a quiet sense of accomplishment, however minor. The exotic wood took to the knife well, allowing me to embellish it with elaborate designs. Its spicy-sweet fragrance carried me to mysterious far shores with golden beaches and lush verdant forests that rose up into misty hills against a soft, sultry sky.

Within three days, interspersed with my primary tasks, I had rejuvenated the toys and joined Isilmë and Val again for a mid-day meal. Val had taken tremendous delight in the figures that now appeared new. He barely touched his food, so Isilmë had relented and let him play on the floor.

Isilmë had then told me of the history of the soldiers and the wagon.

“Lord Amandil – my father-by-marriage – gave these to Elendil when he was a young boy. They were made in a land that lies around the circles of the world - far from the Downfallen. Lord Amandil said that lush green forests covered the land and mists shrouded the far hills,” she said, her description of the distant country dovetailing with the images that had come to me. “Gods and demons had warred in that land, so in memory of those epic battles, the children of their kings and princes played with these toys. They have passed on to Isildur and Anárion and then to my grandsons. Elendur thought them worthy enough to be secreted on his father’s ship. He seized them from our quarters in Rómenna only days before the first tremor shook the city. Unfortunately, not all the pieces were recovered. There were more wagons, siege machines, and even a cavalry. Valandil has been happy enough with these.”

~*~

Queen Isilmë had led her small entourage to the forge on that winter afternoon not only to show off her peregrines, but also to have some of her jewelry repaired and cleaned, a task which I had offered to her during one of our mid-day conversations. Val leaned against my workbench and quietly watched me while I repaired the clasp of his grandmother’s gold necklace and polished its onyx and pearl pendant. Isilmë, Vórwen and Gaereth had settled in a sunny corner and occupied themselves with needlework brought forth from their satchels – embroidery for Isilmë and Vórwen and knitting for Gaereth. As I put the finishing touches on the last pearl, admiring its subtle iridescence, Val shifted and spoke up.

“Istyar? Would you help me make a Yule gift for Mama?”

“I suppose I can, Val. But what is Yule?”

“You do not know what Yule is?” Val’s eyes widened with incredulity.

“Yule falls near the time of your people’s winter festival,” Isilmë said. “The Middle Men of Arnor celebrate it, and the Dúnedain have adopted their customs. Valandil has heard tales of the holiday from Gaereth here, so he is eager to experience it, especially the gifting.” Isilmë smiled at her grandson. “Gaereth, tell the Istyar of your people’s Yuletide celebration.”

“Yes, my queen.” Gaereth set her knitting on her lap and began to regale me with the traditions surrounding the winter solstice in her village: the gathering of the greens – pine, holly, ivy and mistletoe – to bedeck hall and hearth, feasting and dancing, and lighting of many candles in homes and bonfires in the woods and along the shore to drive back the darkness of the longest night. Gaereth’s eyes sparkled as she described the customs and the special foods that she enjoyed, in particular a savory fish and mussel stew and sweet pastries filled with nutmeats.

“So 'Yule' is simply another name for the winter fesival," I said. "My people share many of those customs as you will see. We tend to gift one another at other times, on our begetting days – like your birthdays, I believe, or more often as tokens of friendship. But this Yule gifting sounds like a laudable custom. What would you like to make for your mother, Val?”

“Something made of wood!”

I gave this some thought. Val was far too young to reliably handle a carving knife, but he could at least sand and smooth a wood surface. Something simple then.

“Why don’t you craft a shuttle for her weaving?” I caught Isilmë’s eye, and the queen nodded in approval.

I had only seen Elerína a few times since that awkward encounter in the Hall of Fire and even then, only at a distance. She did not accompany Isilmë and Valandil to the lunches I now took regularly in the kitchen with them. Neither had she come to the forge with her son. I came to the conclusion she didn’t wish to spend time in my company. However, Isilmë had said that Elerína was engrossed in weaving, spending many hours of the day with Lairiel, the master weaver of Imladris and like me, a refugee from Eregion. I was strangely relieved to know that Elerína’s craft preoccupied her.

“Yes! I want to make that, Istyar. She weaves for Papa and my brothers. She wants to greet them with new banners when they return.”

“A most worthy task!” I clasped the necklace and lay it down on the soft fabric in its small chest. “Let’s find Master Calaquar and select the wood we will use.”

As I expected, Calaquar was in his workshop where he fitted the joints of a small table together. He set aside his task to help Val select a block of cherry wood from which the woodwright sawed a piece of suitable size. The child carried the wood back to my workshop. After he carefully set the block on my bench, he yawned mightily, and his grandmother took note. She gathered her embroidery and unceremoniously stuffed it into her satchel.

“Val, come now. We’ve taken up a great deal of the Istyar’s time with trivial tasks, and you, young man, are in need of a nap.”

“But I want to work with Istyar Sámaril on Mama’s gift!”

“Come back tomorrow,” I said. “It’s best if you’re well-rested for your work.”

Val went to Gaereth who took him by the hand. Isilmë turned to the girl. “Go ahead, Gaereth. I will be along shortly. I’d like to have a word with the Istyar. Vórwen, you may wait for me by the door.”

After the child and the nursemaid left my workshop and Lady Vórwen had positioned herself discreetly, the queen addressed me.

“Istyar, I know this must be most peculiar for you – to have a clutch of mortal women and a child seeking your company. Yet you should know I am grateful that you humor an old woman and provide something that is missing in a little boy’s life.”

“You are not old, my lady,” I said. “I have seen almost two thousand turns of the seasons, and I am far from the eldest of my people here in mortal lands.”

Isilmë averted her eyes. I sensed the shudder that coursed through her body and mind, but she responded with candor.

“Yes, and therein lies the gulf between us, Istyar. How strange it is for us to be in the Fair Folk’s presence. We are so alike yet so far apart.”

“The Eldar feel much the same way. You cannot know how hard it is watch our mortal brethren grow and wither so swiftly like a season’s leaves.”

“Or for us to know our immortal kin continue on paths without us, becoming ever wiser with age but retaining the strength and beauty of adults in their prime.”

“Our fates are sundered, my lady queen. Or so we are taught.”

“In this sundering, your folk hold yourselves at arm’s length from us. Yet you are different, Istyar. You are less remote somehow. More understanding. I must say that although you are wise and intelligent like any of your high kindred, you do not weave your speech so subtly. Sometimes you speak as plainly as a fisherman!”

I laughed aloud at that. “Yes, I’ve been told that I am direct. I will allow that I am intelligent but wise? That is debatable.”

The queen raised her brows. “I would say that you do not succumb to false modesty either.”

“I have also been told that I am a pompous ass. You must understand that the Firstborn are hardly a uniform people, my lady queen. We differ as much as apples and oranges…as much as Men do.”

“I know you are right, but when a mortal sees those who are only steps away from the gods, it is difficult to discern one Elf from another. You must understand, Istyar, that my people - the folk of the Andúnië - revered the Eldar even if few of us met even one of your people. Only our men – the mariners like my husband, my sons and my father-by-marriage - met any substantial number of Elves. The women of the Faithful remained in Númenor. Our traditions of hearth and hall exalted your people and mythologized them. We were even persecuted for honoring the Firstborn and speaking your languages. And now here we are living among myth.”

“I am hardly a myth, and I do not deserve to be exalted. I am no nobleman, my lady queen. I am but a stonemason’s son.”

She eyed me shrewdly, her storm-colored eyes sharp. “Yes, but that stonemason led the crews who built the Hidden City from King Turgon’s designs. Oh, don’t look so shocked. I’ve spent a good deal of time in Master Elrond’s library.

“Do not think that the House of Elendil disregards the scholars and the skilled craftsmen. We may be called kings and queens here in Middle-earth, but we were not so in Númenor. My father and his father before him were noblemen of the Andúnië; they held many boats of a large fishing fleet. Yet at heart, they were fishermen like many of our folk, and so these queenly hands...” and she held out her large long-fingered hands, their bones prominent and blue veins branching beneath her tawny skin, “…have gutted fish and shucked many an oyster. The line of Elros gave rise to the ruling class, Istyar, but also to practical people. I would guess that your father must have been of a similar nature.”

“Your guess would be correct.” The mention of my father made me sad and wistful, but her reference to his vocation and pragmatism triggered a recollection far preferable to the ghastly image of his death that was burned into my long memories.

“He was practical and rather dour for the most part. He had seen so much hardship in his life: he crossed the Helcaraxë in Fingolfin’s train, and then he helped build Gondolin only to see it fall. He and my mother thought they had found peace at last in Eregion but that was not to be.”

“Your father and mother are no longer with you?”

“No. They died in Ost-in-Edhil.” I clamped down on the rising swell of grief, struggling to maintain the elvish serenity expected of me.

“I am so sorry for your loss.” She took my hand in hers. “Then you understand our fear of losing our loved ones. I will never overcome my worry for my husband and sons in spite of being the wife and mother of warrior-kings. Lindissë – Anárion’s wife – sees her husband and son march to war, leaving her once again. Elerína and her sons' wives and daughters have endured so much, but once again Isildur and my grandsons face terrible uncertainty. Valandil misses his father and his brothers, although he is too young to know what is at stake.

“We cling to the hope that they will all return to us, but their future is dark and perilous. The Eldar of Imladris and my peregrines watch over us – the families of the Dúnedain - but who will watch over our husbands and sons? I know you cannot – nor should you be – a replacement for these men. But we who have been left behind are drawn to you - a man among the Eldar. For whatever reason, you are more forgiving of our race than many of your kin. So perhaps now you have some understanding as to why mere mortals like my grandson and myself seek your company.”

“You are anything but ‘mere,’ my lady queen. I do understand, and there is nothing to forgive. I am honored.”

I raised her hand to my lips, this time with no self-conscious courtliness but with genuine respect and affection. She graced me with a half-smile, and silently left my workshop, leaving me to ponder this latest turn in my life’s long swells.

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Chapter End Notes

Vórwen - Isilmë's senior lady-in-waiting.

Fâniel and Alagos - the peregrine falcons that Isilmë brought to Imladris.

Rámë and Maico - the ancestors of Fâniel and Alagos; possibly Maiar incarnated as peregrines.

Naurusnir - Sinda, journeyman smith.

Isilmë - Elendil's wife; queen of Arnor.

Elerína - Isildur's wife; exiled co-queen of Gondor.

Calaquar - master woodwright of Imladris.

Gaereth - Dúnadaneth, Valandil's nursemaid.

Lairiel - Noldo, master weaver of Imladris.

Lindissë - Anárion's wife, co-queen of Gondor.

Tercel (also spelled tiercel): refers to male peregrines and gyrfalcons; derived from the Latin tertius, third. It was once believed that every third egg in a falcon's clutch hatched a male chick. Also, the male of these species is often about 1/3 smaller than the larger, more powerful female.

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I believe the appendix on the Calendars of the LotR notes that the Elves of Imladris did not celebrate Yule. However, in the Calendars in the History of Middle-earth (Peoples of Middle-earth, I think) makes note of the winter solstice being used in the reckoning of time by the Eldar, at least for the "long year" (100 years intially, 144 years in later writings); the solar year's beginning was in the spring. Also, there's a hint that the Eldar of Beleriand were preoccupied by something surrounding the winter solstice given that Morgoth launched the Dagor Bragollach then, similar to the attack on Gondolin (summer solstice). It's hard to imagine that the Eldar would not be keenly aware of these astronomical events and that they'd use them as a good excuse to celebrate - and hence pass these traditions to Men, too. As Rhapsody pointed out, Mettarë - the last day of the year according to the Dúnedain - fell on the winter solstice. Hence, I'm assuming the winter solstice had significance to both Men and Elves.