The Captive by Glorified

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Chapter 1. A Courtly Matter

When she went to Tirion that day she had only gone to see what everyone was talking about.  She stood with all the other onlookers expecting a sham of a trial and found herself unexpectantly with a reluctant house guest.  She could not have foretold the train of events that would be put into place by her decision that day and how her life and those around her would change. 

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Chapter 1. A Courtly Matter.

 

In all honesty I could have said no, and part of me did consider the idea of simply walking quietly away. I was standing at the back of the crowd and it would have been easy for me to do so and slip away unnoticed.

 

Why did I do it I’m not entirely sure? Perhaps I was curious along with all the other mawkish on lookers. Perhaps a loyalty to others whom I knew would be desirously interested in the outcome today.

 

But in truth I knew too what it was to be an outcast albeit not for such heinous crimes or any crimes at all actually, just being who I was. When your corporeal nature does not fit in with the consensus around you tend to get shunned and marginalised. I have always felt the unease of those around me, not quite disseminating what was different about me but sensing enough to steer clear, elf and mortal alike.

 

I was as much a conundrum as he was standing up there at before the dais, shackled and chained waiting for the inevitable. They would throw away the key I knew that. No matter who spoke up for him and I knew one who wanted to but he was forbidden to do so. All these thoughts ran through my mind when without any conscious realisation on my part I found myself easing towards the front where the elders stood and saying,

 

“I will take him”.

 

My voice sounded thin and I felt disembodied from it.

 

“I have a garden that needs landscaping”, I continued as a way of explanation.

 

Here in the splendour of Finarfin’s court I sounded bizarrely pedestrian; a pearlescent display of delicate dawn hues and glittering gold bejewelled occupants who turned and tilted their beautiful mantled heads as one with their with King in my direction; the rustle of stiff brocades and swishing of gossamer silks accompanying them like eddies from a stone thrown into a pond.

 

Finarfin stood looking at me as if I was slightly mad and if he was struggling to comprehend what landscaping a garden was. He looked utterly discombobulated as if his usual refined ordered world had been turned on its axis, and he was struggling to identify who or what had done so.

 

I the strange creature in front of him in a dusty artisan smock and sandals shrugged my shoulders and pulled my mouth up at the corners in a comic display that was utterly lost on Finarfin’s hubris and standing.

 

He came towards me peering down from his height on the dais, he was spectacularly gold from his silken hair that hung down in rivulets to his knees to his crown and mantle that embodied kingship and authority to the lightly tanned skin that was beginning to take on a rose gold hue through the light that was now shining in long shards through the halls windows.

 

There was a flurry of quick verbal parrying between the elders behind him. Finarfin went as if to say something to me but seemed to change his mind, and beckoned to his herald, he whispered something and the herald in a flourish walked towards me and proclaimed that I should wait as the king and his advisors would now debate my offer. The group of dignitaries withdrew to rooms unseen beyond the dais.

 

Unsure what to do I waited where I was. I could hear as all around there began a low murmur of many voices no doubt discussing what I am sure they thought was my preposterous proposal.

 

He stood waiting also a forlorn figure to the side of me, with his eyes downcast and his long dark hair shielding his face from onlookers, his hands and feet shackled in heavy chains. His clothing was in stark contrast to the splendour around him, he was wearing a thin crumpled tunic of faded home spun hemp and cotton, and breeches that were an uneven length and fraying at the bottom revealing no proper shoes but pieces of leather caught by throngs of leather and tied in a mishmash fashion so that they stayed on his feet. I could see his from his stooped frame he was muscular but rather on the thin side.

 

Two guards liveried in Finfarfin’s colours and heavy armour and weaponry stood to attention either side of him. An overly dramatic spectacle staged for the incumbent court no doubt.

 

I wondered how long Finarfin and his lackeys would be, I knew they would be keen to accept my offer amid the awkward murmurs of retribution and compensation, out of sight surely was out of mind? He would still be under curfew but free to roam with my gainsay in a five mile radius.

 

I was doing this for my friend I told myself, although my heart did beat a bit faster at the thought of what I was getting myself into. Already marginalised and not thought of as part of polite society I was more than happy to keep to my small homestead by the sea. However, what other repercussions would there be for me? Olwe’s court who I relied on for my business would surely baulk at my choice of house guest.

 

The swoosh of the court as they turned as one to the dais at the front of the long hall stopped me in the musings of my actions and their possible ramifications. After a long dramatic pause Finarfin looking directly at me and then nodded acquiescence with a dismissal of his head. The guards immediately undid the shackles and they fell with a clang.

 

I wasn’t sure what to do but knew someone would correct me if I didn’t follow court etiquette so I just turned to walk away hoping he would follow. I hesitated momentarily so that he would understand, which he did and lurched forward in an uncharacteristic Elvish stumble as if he were an automaton being wound up into activity.

 

We walked through the crowd with every eye upon us and out through the white gleaming city with its golden minaret capped towers and along dusty highways iridescent with gems. It was until we got far beyond the city walls and spying eyes that I stopped and spoke to him.

 

“You can walk with me, if you want to, you don’t have to stay behind” I said. We had a long work back to the inn which would sequester us for the night, and then another long journey to my homestead.

 

Two days travel in all and I hoped we could cadge a lift from one of the merchants who was going in our direction the next day even if it was half way it would help my sore back and feet.

 

At the inn we ate in silence, he seemed sullen, embarrassed even, I wondered why? Perhaps he was not use to such simple lowly fare or company. We had small single rooms at the lower level of the inn at the back, and I listened to the maids gossiping outside,

 

“Wasn’t that him? I’m sure it was, you know the one they had up in Tirion?”

“Even if it is, it’s none of our business”

“He’s handsome though isn’t he”.

They left tittering with laughter and high spirits, it took very little speculation on my part to know to whom they were referring.

 

The next day we we found a lift to three miles short of the homestead, still in a sullen mood he said nothing to me the whole way there but lifted all the baggage into the back of the cart without a hesitation or asking. At least he had some manners I thought.

 

I thanked the cart owner profusely and went to give him coin for his inconvenience but he would hear nothing of it and waved my gesture away saying that it was nothing.

 

As we we walked I talked to him about the piece of land I wanted landscaping into a garden. Still keeping his eyes down cast he nodded. I had acquired the small farm with several acres to keep myself and my horse. The house was small but the garden was all but grown to meadow bordered by small stone out buildings and a wall that curved around the outer rim.

 

I told him that he could stay in them, and I hoped he didn’t mind that there was only an outside shower and no heating but we could sort something out when the season changed if he felt the cold.

 

As I spoke he simply nodded at what I was proposing yet I could see him casting furtive glances up at me with his soulful grey eyes. Whenever I turned to him he would drop his gaze, yet I knew he was wondering about me as much as I was wondering about him.

 

There was cut below his left eye which was healing with a yellowing bruise and purple bruising on his knuckles and two of the fingers looked as if they had been broken and badly set. I wondered how he had come such injuries perhaps the zealousness of the prison guards? Grievances ran deep.

 

However, for all his thread bare clothes and bruised estate he could not be mistaken for anything less than he was with his pale sombre Noldarian beauty.

 

We arrived a the farm stead and the shrill whinny of my Mearas stallion caught on the wind as he flew over the hill top in the distance towards me. After much cajoling and petting on both sides he returned to grazing and I turned to my reluctant guest abashed at him witnessing our fervent display when he spoke his first words to me.

 

“He holds your heart, and you his”, I nodded unable to think of anything to add to his adroit and truthful statement.

 

I motioned for him to follow me through the arched gateway walked across the lawn now seeded high in meadow flowers to the ramshackle buildings which were to be his residence.

After showing him where everything was I said he was welcome to eat with me in the farm house and told him dinner would be at six and left him to his accommodation.

 

I cooked just soup, lentils, vegetables and potatoes with some saffron seasoning, placed some rough hewn chunks of bread with butter on the table, and sat down with a glass of wine and wondered just what I had done.

 

As I mused there came a timid knock on the door and I said come in.

He’d washed and his long dark was hair was unravelled and wet around his face and he looked slightly flushed. He looked younger than he had earlier with his hair loose around his shoulders. As I looked at him he touched it self consciously. I noticed there were wet splotches on his tunic and breeches.

 

I’d hoped he’d found the towels. I caught a faint whiff of lavender and thought at least he’s found the soap.

 

“Please sit down”, I said as I got up to serve the soup.

 

He looked awkward as I placed the soup tureen on the table and then and told him to help himself. He declined the wine and I felt a tad louche drinking it to myself. I racked my mind as to what to say to put him at ease.

 

I prattled on about the garden instead, and my ideas for it. He nodded politely and said quietly,

 

“I can begin tomorrow, if you wish”,

 

“Yes, yes”, I said there were tools behind the small outhouse and I could go into to the village tomorrow and get some more and anything thing else he thought he would need if he could let me know.

 

He nodded and went to stand up and leave.

 

“Please, please” I said. I was a bit lost for words yet so wanted to say something to ease him.

“Please take the wine”. I foisted the unfinished half bottle on the table with a wine glass into his hands, he looked startled but to took them with a dignified grace and bow of his head. It might help you sleep I said as by way of explanation. He nodded again, his gaze curious and hesitant and then turned and left.

 

Later that night as I lay in my bed I mused on the day’s events and my new house guest. He was beautiful, I had to admit that, an angular jaw with high cheek bones and a slim strong nose. His skin had an ethereal transparency to it and he bore himself when he thought he wasn’t being observed with a regal and assured manner, his long stride measured and authoritative. But it was his eyes which intrigued me they hid and yet revealed so much of his long displaced history:

 

Was it a misplaced loyalty and gratitude to his foster son that had swayed my mind that afternoon, after all he had bequeathed me this place I now lived in? Perhaps? But I knew myself what it was to be discriminated against and turned from and I knew I could not mete that same measure out to another no matter how awful their crimes.

 

I saw the flicker of a small candle he must have found from across the yard and I realised I had not even asked him what he wished to be called. Maglor Feanorian he was of old but now perhaps he went by another name.