in the hills of dorthonion by Arveldis

in the hills of dorthonion

Read in the hills of dorthonion

F.A. 384

Andreth looked in wonder at the three Elves standing in the main hall, bright and brilliant, hardly touched by the grime of travel, otherworldly in the dim evening candlelight of the hall. They stood tall and straight, their bright heads touched with a nobility that needed no crown to announce itself, even as the first of them clasped her father’s arm in warm greeting, and the two behind him bowed their heads in respect.

Her father motioned to her, Beril, and Bregor, and they joined him at his side as he pointed to each of them. “These are my children: Bregor, my heir; Andreth, lately returned from Estolad; and Beril, my youngest.”

They each bowed before the Elves as their father introduced them by name. Andreth kept her chin raised as she looked upon the Elves; though she felt plain and unremarkable before them, she would not avert her gaze like one who considered herself lesser.

At the feast held in the Elves’ honor that evening, Andreth watched the lords without shame from her seat across from them. She noted their regal bearing, their interest in enquiring her family’s health and the news of Dorthonion, and the slight differences in appearance and mannerisms between the three—the first, Finrod, courtly in manners but warm in gesture; the second, Angrod, strong of brow and hand and reserved in speech; and the third, Aegnor, bright of eye and generous in praise of her people.

The lords had come before to her father’s halls, Andreth knew, but their visits were few, with many years between. Once they had come when she was a child and had not been permitted to sit at her father’s table with them, and they had come thrice when she had been at Belemir’s house. And many times had they come before her birth, and before her father’s birth, and before his father’s birth.

She looked upon them in amazement again. They looked no older than Bregor and bore no lines upon their faces nor silver in their hair, and yet they had lived for many generations of Men. Their memories stretched back into the Elder Days, and they bore the wisdom of centuries.

Her father’s voice stirred her from her thoughts. “My daughter, Andreth, is the Wise-woman of our house and has learned much of the lore of the Edain, both of our house and the House of Marach.” At the head of the table, her father glowed with pride. “She has returned this year from Estolad, where she was taught for many years the lore of the House of Marach by my cousin’s wife, the Wise-woman of their house.”

Andreth smiled at her father, then addressed their guests politely. “Indeed, I am only recently returned to Dorthonion after many years away. I am honored to at last make your acquaintance, my lords.”

The foremost of the lords, Finrod, looked upon her with great interest. “We must speak at another time of what you have learned of the lore of the Edain,” he said. “My people know little of your lore, for your coming was foretold only in whispers that guessed at your nature and purpose in these lands. Greatly have I desired to know the history of the Edain before our kindreds met."

Andreth inclined her head. “The lore of the Edain is told to few, my lord, for few do we trust with it. It is tradition for Wise-women to share their lore only with their chosen successor. But I will share what I may with you, that you may know our people better. But be warned that I may not share with you all that you desire to hear.”

Finrod smiled. “Graciously spoken.”

The Elf who sat across from her and to her right—Aegnor—laughed lightly. “You would be wise to leave his questions unanswered, my lady, lest you become ensnared by his curiosity and never have a moment’s peace during his visits. You would rue ever answering his first question, I deem.” The flames of the candles that lined the table danced in his eyes, bright with mirth.

“I shall consider that,” Andreth said with a smile.

---

Andreth paused to catch her breath, filling her lungs with the clear springtime air. The teeth of winter still nipped at the air, but their bite was quickly losing its sharpness as spring drew on.

Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she spied the glint of Tarn Aeluin, no more than a mile away. She picked up the trail again, following the narrow path down the slope of the hill until she reached the flatlands that surrounded the bowl of the lake. The walk to the Aeluin was long, full of rolling hills and steep switchbacks through densely forested slopes, but Andreth enjoyed the peace and solitude it offered her.

She descended into the last stands of pines and spruces that girded the sandy belt of the lake. Tarn Aeluin was the jewel of Dorthonion, and greatly treasured by her house, but few came to the shores of the lake during the winter and spring, preferring instead to visit in the summer, when the sun at last shone warmly upon the highlands, and the water of the lake brought cool relief.

Now, though, the water was bitterly cold even under the afternoon sun, and the shores of the lake were quiet and undisturbed as Andreth approached. Willow branches draped into the water, drifting gently in the breeze that stirred over the lake. A crane stood among the boulders that lay strewn along the water’s edge, peering into the water. 

Andreth picked her way among the boulders, finding a tall one that stood with its shoulders above the rest, and she climbed atop it, settling on its crown and tilting her face to the sun. Warmth spilled over her in a pleasant caress.

“It is a fair day, is it not?” The soft voice broke through her reverie, and Andreth startled and looked over her shoulder to find one of the bright-haired Elf lords standing behind her, several paces away. The Elf’s hair fell about his shoulders in an unruly mane, marking him as the youngest of the brothers.

“Lord Aegnor!” Andreth exclaimed. “I did not hear you approach, forgive me.” She made to stand and greet him.

“Few who are not of the Eldar can.” The corner of his mouth lifted in humor, but his features were kind. “And there is no need. I care not for titles or ceremony.”

Andreth settled on the boulder again, wondering why he had stopped here and peering at him in expectation.

“You are Boromir’s daughter, Andreth, Wise-woman of the House of Bëor.” He did not say it as a question, but as a fact he knew, and Andreth wondered at his memory of her, having conversed with her only briefly during the night of the Elves’ arrival. She had thought the Edain must be as mayflies to them, indistinguishable and unlovely, short-lived and quickly replaced by new generations—and just as quickly forgotten.

“I am,” she said.

He moved to stand next to her, stepping as lightly over the boulders as if he tread on soft grass. “Has my brother pressed you for answers to his questions yet?”

“No, not yet.” Still curious as to his intent, she looked up at him, bright against the sky, though the sun was hidden behind the trees ringing the lake. “Has he sent you in his stead, thinking to disarm me?”

Aegnor laughed lightly. “No. He does not send others to do his bidding, lord though he be over Angrod and me.” He looked out over the placid lake. “I came here of my own accord, desiring the solitude of the Aeluin.”

“You have come here often?”

“Indeed. I come here every time my brothers and I visit. There is a beauty and peace here that I have not found elsewhere in Dorthonion.” His expression turned distant, as if he walked in a bygone memory. “At night, when the stars shine in the bowl of the lake, it reminds me of evening in Aman, when the light of the stars fell upon the green hill of Tirion upon Túna and caught in the many basins and fountains that filled the city.” He turned to her again, wistful. “The Eldar love nothing so much as the light of the stars, for our kin awoke under it and treasure it more than the light of day, and shall ever do so.”

Andreth looked upon him in amaze. “Even in these lands so near to the Shadow, forsaken by the Valar of the Blessed Realm, where malice breeds in the absence of light? For even the stars cannot wholly banish the darkness, and evil may creep beneath its shadow.”

“Yet the stars may pierce the darkness.”

“Perhaps. But still the darkness remains and keeps much hidden,” Andreth parried.

“For the eyes of the Edain, maybe.” A smile played upon his lips, and the light in his eyes was merry. “Do you challenge everyone thus, or only hapless Elves who intrude upon your solitude?”

Andreth met his gaze evenly. “No opinion is worth having if it cannot be tested and withstand the test, or else allow itself to be tempered like metal, and in so doing become refined.”

He looked at her long, and she held herself straight under his gaze. Something flickered in his eyes, and she thought it could be named respect.

“I deem my brother has met his match in you, Andreth, Wise-woman of the House of Bëor,” he said. “May I?” He gestured to a boulder that sat near hers.

She nodded, thinking again of his description of Aman and pondering his words. “Why did you leave the Blessed Realm? I have heard the tales of the Elf-lord Fëanor and his sons, and of their wrath and their ruin, but you are not of their house, and the tales of my people say that your house did not partake in their wrath. Why come to these lands long under shadow and leave a beloved home?”

He sat quietly beside her for several moments, and birdsong filled the silence between them until he spoke. “For the same reason you left Dorthonion and dwelt in Estolad, I deem—to learn of that which we did not know, and to sate the longing in our hearts. For among his words of wrath, Fëanor spoke of the land of our birth, Cuiviénen, far to the east. He spoke of its beauty and splendor and untamed places that were yet unpeopled—and my heart was stirred, as was that of Angrod, and of our cousin, whom we would not be parted from. And so it was for the yearning of a place yet unseen and the bonds of friendship that my brother and I left, and we cannot now return.”

Andreth watched him as he spoke. “Would you wish to, if it were possible?”

“No, for it isn't now the home that I knew in my youth, and the peace that I knew then was a false peace, marred by the lies and deceit of Morgoth, though I knew it not. I wish only that I were not separated from my father and mother, and that I knew if they begrudged my and my brothers’ and sister’s choices.” His voice had become quiet, and though he looked at the sheen of the sun upon the Aeluin, Andreth guessed that what he saw in his mind was very different.

She watched the minnows dart through the water ferns that grew in clusters in the water before her, silent as she waited for him to indicate that he was ready to speak again. As she watched the quick movements of the fish, she thought of sundered families, of seas that could not be crossed, and of homes that were no longer home.

At length, his gaze cleared and he stirred. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice as soft as the breeze that whispered through the leaves of the willows.

“There is no need,” she said with a gentle smile. “It was I who asked.” She paused, then added, “You said your ‘sister’s choices,’ yet I have not seen or heard of a woman among you when you and your brothers have visited.”

“A sister we have, Artanis. She goes where she wills and does not often come to the North. She dwells now in Doriath to the south in the halls of King Thingol and Melian the Maia, from whom she has learned much lore and wisdom.”

Andreth turned to him with great interest. “Do the Eldar also have Wise-women?”

The corners of his mouth curved up at her enthusiasm. “Of a kind. Many of the nissi—Elven women—study and are greatly knowledgeable in the lore and history of the Eldar, dedicating their time to chronicling the history of our people and learning more still from the Valar. But there are few among my people who are considered to be among the Wise, as, I mark, there are few among your people who are considered such.”

“Is your sister one of the Wise, having been under the tutelage of one of the Maiar?”

“She is. She has learned much from Melian that even Finrod, though he is accounted by many of our people as having great wisdom, does not know.” He turned to her, his too-bright eyes studying her with an intensity that left her feeling as if she had been laid bare before him. “You are very like her, I think. Artanis is strong of will and firm in her decisions. She does not suffer others to make choices for her, nor does she follow the course others would set out for her. She is singular, my sister, but so, I deem, are you. Although,” he added with a knowing smile, “I am certain that you, like her, chafe at comparison.”

“You have gleaned this from one conversation with me?” She raised a brow.

“Your eyes say much that your mouth does not,” he said simply. “And your bearing in the presence of my brother, Finrod, says more still.”

“What of my bearing?”

He simply smiled and stood up. “Good day, Andreth. I must return, but perhaps we shall chance upon each other again, and we may learn more of each other.”

She watched him depart, golden against the long shadows of the fading afternoon, and wondered at his attention to her.

---

The early morning sunlight warmed Andreth’s back as she crested the last hill that rose above Tarn Aeluin, offering a view of the lake and the forests and small meadows around it, brilliant in their late spring flush. From the crown of the hill, Andreth could see her family’s halls, the village that nestled against them, and glimpses of the path she had just climbed up, visible only to those who knew its snaking course.

She leaned against the bole of a pine tree to catch her breath. The path up to the hill was strenuous, but she reveled in the feeling of pushing her body to burning, thrilling delight.

“We meet again.”

Andreth whirled around to find Aegnor stepping from behind a tree several paces away.

“So we do,” she responded. “I did not know that you were familiar with so many of the paths of these lands.”

“Some. I have spent many years exploring these lands.”

It was strange to her to think that he, born in a distant, fabled country over the sea and a foreigner to these lands that she considered her people's, might know them better than she, who had spent her youth learning the trackless paths of the woods and hills, simply because of the long years he had been granted, according to the nature of his kin. This land was her people’s and yet not, for the Eldar would remain long after her family’s line had faded, remembered only by the Wise-women.

She wondered how many of her house he had spoken to thus, finding them in the woods and hills and offering friendship, and if he remembered all of them; or if, after watching generation after generation of Men blossom and soon wither, their faces and memories had become as indistinguishable as autumn leaves strewn upon the ground.

“You are quiet today,” Aegnor remarked. “Have you exhausted all of your questions?”

“Far from it,” she said, looking at him carefully—a being so utterly different from her and yet like in form and thought, and speaking to her as if there were no difference between them. “I merely have more thoughts than I have words with which to share them, and some perhaps are not fit for this moment.”

“Not fit?” He stepped closer into the shadow cast by the tree she stood against. Still he shone with a subtle, unearthly light, as if gathering to himself the light that fell in pools between the trees’ shadows. “I would hear whatever you have to say or ask of me, even if you deem it unfit for this moment, Wise-woman.”

“Very well.” Andreth looked at him evenly. “It is strange to me that you should know this land as well as I, though it is not your homeland, as it is mine. And it is strange to me that you converse with me as if there were no difference between us—as if no gulf of years or kindred or rank separates us. But you are a lord of the Noldor, and I am the daughter of a lord of Men pledged to your service.”

He studied her for a moment, choosing his words. “To your last remark, I will say this: I have said that I care not about titles, and nor do I care for rank. I have been a lord, and I have been an exile; rank matters not to me, for it does not tell the full measure of a person. Nor does age or race. In the reckoning of my people, you would be but a child, but in the reckoning of yours, you are a woman full grown, studied in lore and wisdom and greatly honored among your people.

“And to your first remark,” he continued affably, “I confess that there are many paths in this land that I have not yet learned, and I would be grateful for the aid of a guide, if she is willing.”

Andreth stared at him, bewildered still by his manner but curious, too, to know better the mind of this strange Elf, who cared so little for stark differences. “I am.”

“I am honored.” The smile he bestowed her lit his face with warmth, and she found herself smiling with him.  

She stepped from the shadow of the trees and motioned for him to follow her to the edge of the hill. “There are many hidden trails in these hills, many of which are known to my people, and others which my siblings and I discovered ourselves in our youth and have shared with none, until now,” she said, glancing up at him, tall and bright next to her. “There”—she pointed with her finger to the curve of the trail she had just taken—“is the trail that leads back to the village, but branching away from it to the west is a narrow path that leads to an aspen grove. Have you seen it?”

Aegnor shook his head.

“You must! The aspens are beautiful in the spring.”

“Lead on, then,” he said with a bright smile and followed her down the hill to the forest.

The woods were alive with high spring as Andreth led Aegnor to the grove. The bilberry, huckleberry, raspberry, and inkberry bushes that crowded the edges of the path bloomed in puffy clusters of blossoms, and choruses of birds trilled overhead. Ferns curved about the trunks of trees, and clumps of moss grew thick upon their bark.

“How did you become a Wise-woman?” Aegnor asked, holding back a low-hanging branch. “Was the decision made for you because you demonstrated skill, or did you choose to become one?”

“Both. I showed promise as a child with my interest in the history of the Edain. I asked my mother endless questions about our house and its history, about Dorthonion, about how our people came to these lands.”

She paused to accept Aegnor’s proffered hand and climbed up over a large boulder that obstructed the path, straightening her skirts and examining the path ahead. She pointed to the left, where a thin path broke off from theirs. “There. We must follow that path now.”

The pine trees grew thinner now, making the narrow path easy to follow, despite its elusive twists through the trees, and they could now easily walk shoulder to shoulder.

“And after my mother’s death,” Andreth continued, “I beseeched the old women in our village to tell me of the lore they knew, but they, too, could not answer all of my questions. And so my father sent me to Estolad to learn from my aunt, Adanel, the lore of the House of Marach, which alone of the houses of the Edain recalls the early years after the awakening of Men.

“Adanel had no daughters of her own to teach her lore to, so we became like mother and daughter, closer in heart and thought than mere teacher and student.” She thought fondly of her aunt, raising her as her own, teaching her with wisdom and love how to be both a woman and a Wise-woman—gracious, strong, and worthy of respect. “The years I spent with her and my uncle were some of the happiest that I have known since my mother’s death. Adanel has taught me everything I know, in wisdom and in the heart.”

Alders began to appear between the pines now, marking their nearness to the marsh that bordered the edges of the aspen grove. At their feet, the ferns became more numerous and varied, sprouting from tree roots in great curls and fronds.

“Are all of the Wise among your people women?” Aegnor asked after a moment, his expression curious as he glanced at her.

“Not all, but many are. There are some men of our people who are accounted among the Wise, like Bëor the Old, but Wise-women have long kept record of our lore. It is tradition among all the Houses of the Edain for women to remember our lore and keep the memory of our people alive. Men may pass into song and legend for their valiant deeds, but it is women who give life to their memories, and to the memories of all who are now gone.

“Of course,” she said, remembering to whom she spoke, “that is because we have need of remembering our ancestors, for we cannot walk among them as the Eldar can. The lives of the Edain last only as long as the Wise-women remember them.”

“It is a high calling, then, to be counted among the Wise, Saelind,” Aegnor said, looking at her long with an expression that she could not read.

Andreth held his gaze, wordless, as some emotion that she could not name passed between them. Wise-heart, he had named her. Wise-heart, though she had lived but a moment compared to him and knew so little of what he knew of the world, born before the sun had ever risen.

She blinked as if leaving a trance and searched his face again for the emotion she could not name, but it was gone. She looked to the path ahead and saw the thin white boles of aspens spread before them in innumerable spires.

“Here,” she said at last. “This is the grove.”

He looked away from her face and up to the bright crowns of the trees. As he stepped away, his hand brushed against hers, so slight that she thought she must have dreamed it.

She followed him into the grove, verdant in its vivid spring array and dappled by pools of sunlight. Leafy ferns covered the ground underfoot, and above, birds darted from branch to branch and sang bursts of birdsong.

Aegnor walked slowly before her, his face upturned to the lacing branches that netted the sky in lines of green and white. The gold of his hair caught the beams of the sun, and his face was lit with radiance.

She watched him, transfixed, for he seemed more unearthly now than he ever had before.

“It is indeed very beautiful. I am glad to have shared this with you,” he said at last, and this time, Andreth understood the meaning in his eyes, and warmth flooded through her.

---

Chapter End Notes

My choices for the flora of Dorthonion come from outofangband’s excellent headcanons of the flora and fauna of Dorthonion.

Additionally, this Tumblr post inspired the concept of Wise-women's roles in Edain society.