Home Is Behind by grey_gazania

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Chapter 2

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Something was wrong. Ereiniel could read it easily, in the stiffness of her mother's spine as she pulled on her warmest cloak, in the way her father's eyes skittered away when he chanced to catch Ianneth's gaze, and in the taut, awful silence that stretched between them, like a harp string twisted out of tune.

 

Ianneth bent to help her daughter lace up her shoes, and Ereiniel reached up to touch her mother's hair with curious fingers. Instead of being set in its usual complex braids, Ianneth’s dark hair was pulled into a simple plait wrapped around her head like a crown.

 

"Careful, Ereiniel," Ianneth said. "Don't pull the pins out."

 

She complied, wondering how far away Eglarest was. Ianneth almost never wore her hair pinned up, not even when they'd gone on long rides to Barad Eithel before Morgoth had set the land on fire and Haru had gone away to Mandos.

 

Her father’s captain, Gurvadhor, arrived in the doorway as Ianneth bundled Ereiniel into her cloak. The wool was scratchy against Ereiniel’s skin, and she couldn't help tugging at the collar. Ianneth reached over and gently caught her hand, shaking her head. Ereiniel frowned, but stopped fussing and tried instead to ignore the discomfort.

 

"The horses are ready," Gurvadhor said. "We should depart."

 

Fingon nodded and crouched down to hold his daughter close. "I'll miss you, mírë," he murmured. She pressed her face against his chest and inhaled his familiar smell, soap and leather and pine needles. "I'll come visit when I can," he continued, "and we shall write to one another, all right?"

 

Ereiniel nodded miserably and fisted her hands into his tunic, not wanting to let go. "Why can't you come, Ada?" she mumbled.

 

"Shh." Fingon kissed her lightly on her forehead and she clung to him a little more tightly. "I need to stay at Barad Eithel to defend the people here," he said. "You'll be safe with your mother and the soldiers. You're my big, strong girl; be brave, mírë."

 

Gurvadhor cleared his throat tactfully, and Fingon stood. Ereiniel continued to lean against him, holding his hand, but he nudged her toward Ianneth. "You need to hurry along. Listen to your mother and to Lord Círdan, Ereiniel." He hesitated briefly before addressing his wife. "Be safe, Ianneth."

 

"We will," she said, gripping Ereiniel's hand. "You do the same." She and Ereiniel followed Gurvadhor out of the keep and into the chilly mist of the early morning. Ereiniel was suddenly glad for the cloak, even if it was itchy. She held her mother's hand and walked quickly, trying to keep up with Gurvadhor and Ianneth's bigger steps.

 

"Everything will be fine," Ianneth told her. "We'll cross the mountains and travel along the river, and when we reach Eglarest you'll see the ocean - won't that be exciting?"

 

"Maybe. But I wish Ada could come, too."

 

Ianneth stiffened again, and Ereiniel frowned, chewing on her thumbnail and wondering why her mother was upset. "He has other responsibilities, to his kingdom and his allies," she said tonelessly. "It's best that Lord Círdan foster you."

 

Ereiniel didn't argue, but she did glance back at the keep, wishing it could stay her home and that Haru had not been taken away from them, forcing Ada to become the King.

 

"Don't drag your feet," Ianneth interrupted. "We need to leave quickly." When they reached the horses she let go of Ereiniel's hand and mounted her palfrey.

 

Once Ianneth was seated in the saddle, Gurvadhor placed his hands on Ereiniel's waist. "Up you go, princess," he said, lifting her into the air and helping settle her in front of her mother. Ianneth wrapped a warm arm around her torso, and Ereinel leaned back and nestled against her, tucking herself under her mother's cloak.

 

"You'll be all right, my lady?" Gurvadhor asked.

 

"Yes," said Ianneth. "She's ridden with us before."

 

Gurvadhor nodded, mounted up, and signaled to the detachment to depart.

 

**********

 

"Is it very much further?" Ereiniel asked quietly, fidgeting and peering through the trees to catch glimpses of the river. The long days confined to her mother's saddle had left the girl restless and antsy, her mother seemed perpetually on edge, and the quiet, watchful guards were a sharp change from her father's relaxed good humor.

 

"Several more days," Ianneth answered. "We need to follow the river all the way to the coast. And don't squirm, Ereiniel; I don't want you to fall."

 

"But there's a bird, Nana, look!" she said, pointing through a gap in the underbrush. "Wow, it's tall!"

 

"It's a heron. Now sit still." Ianneth caught her daughter by the waist and tugged her back down onto the saddle.

 

"But Nana, why–"

 

"Hush!" Ianneth snapped. "The guards need to be alert, and your distractions won't help them. Stop fidgeting and be quiet."

 

Stunned, Ereiniel shrank down in her seat and bit her lip to keep it from trembling; her mother usually answered questions, and she never, ever yelled. She ran her thumb over a bit of saddle in front of her and stayed silent, hoping that wouldn't vex Ianneth further.

 

She was glad for the opportunity to move when they finally halted to set up camp. While her mother went to fetch water she slipped away, trying her best to stretch without getting underfoot, but after a few near-collisions, Lassir, Círdan’s messenger and guide, pulled her aside.

 

"Come watch how a campfire is started," he said, drawing her over. He erected a cone of firewood and placed some bark shavings in the center. "What do you think those are for?"

 

"Ada and Nana showed me how they start campfires; that's kindling," Ereiniel answered. "I used to gather it for Ada."

 

"Did you?" Lassir looked surprised.

 

She nodded. "When we went to see Haru. That's Ada's Ada. This trip is longer, though." She chewed her thumb and tilted her head to look up at him. "You talk funny."

 

Lassir laughed, and she smiled tentatively. "That's because I'm from the Falas, while you and your mother are from Hithlum," he said. "You'll find that the people in Eglarest mostly sound like me - but if you were to meet any of the Iathrim or the Laegrim, they would speak differently from both of us." He struck his flint to set light to the tinder and smiled at her. "To my ears even your name sounds odd - we would say Erainiel."

 

Ereiniel pondered this, frowning thoughtfully as she watched the flames creep up the firewood proper. "Does that mean I'll have to change it?" she asked after a few moments. "Because Ada gave it to me and I like it better than Gilwen, so I don't want to."

 

He laughed again. "Not if you don't want to, no. It's your name to keep or change as you see fit."

 

"Do you like your name?"

 

"I do," he said. "My father named me; I was born right along this river."

 

"Really?" Ereiniel's eyes widened and she looked around curiously. "So is this your home? Do your parents live here?"

 

Lassir shook his head. "No, they live in Eglarest like me. We traveled there when I was a young; it was safer. That's the same reason you and your mother are headed there."

 

Ereiniel pondered this, but before she could ask another question Ianneth returned and set down her pail of water beside the fire pit. "Come, Ereiniel," she said, gently taking her daughter's hand and giving Lassir a brief smile. "Leave Master Lassir to his work. I found some wild carrots; let's go help prepare dinner."

 

***********

 

"I hope she wasn't troubling you earlier," Ianneth said, cradling her sleeping daughter in her lap as she sat near the fire, grateful for its warmth. Gurvadhor and some of his men were standing guard, but Lassir had remained near the fire.

 

Lassir shook his head. "She was no bother. Inquisitive, certainly, and energetic, but those are not necessarily bad traits."

 

"Just inconvenient ones during long trips." Ianneth brushed some stray down from Ereiniel's forehead and drew her cloak closer around them with a pang of guilt. "She'll be better once we reach Eglarest and she's free to run about."

 

"How old is she?" Lassir asked, prodding aside a piece of the log that threatened to smother the flames

 

"Eleven."

 

"That's very young to leave home," he said quietly.

 

"It couldn't be helped. Fingon is right – Hithlum is no longer a place for a family." Ianneth frowned slightly, eyes on the fire, until Ereiniel stirred in her sleep. "I should take her to bed," Ianneth said. "I’ll see you in the morning."

 

"And you. Sleep well, my lady."

 

Ianneth stood and carried Ereiniel to their tent, where she settled her daughter into the bedroll before taking off her own cloak and lying down beside her. Ereiniel’s breath tickled Ianneth's cheek, and the girl wriggled closer, seeking her mother's warmth. Ianneth wrapped one arm around her and wiped at her eyes, resolving that she would not snap at her daughter again.

 

***********

 

They rode for four more days, the Nenning gradually widening as it approached the sea. On the morning of the fifth day Lassir reined in his horse and pointed towards the horizon. “Those are Eglarest’s walls,” he said. “We should be there before dusk.”

 

Ereiniel perked up in Ianneth’s saddle, peering into the distance. "It’s big, Nana,“ she said. "Are there lots of people?”

 

“Lots and lots of people,” Ianneth confirmed. “And other children for you to play with.”

 

But no Ada, Ereiniel thought, settling back against her mother with a slight frown. She wrapped one hand around Ianneth’s arm and tilted her head to look up at her face. "And you’ll be there. That’s good. I love you, Nana.“

 

“I love you, too,” Ianneth said, dropping her head to kiss the top of Ereiniel’s head as the group continued moving.

 

Ereiniel couldn’t help staring as they rode into the city. The massive walls were built of thick chunks of hewn stone, many of them longer than she was tall, and the gate was guarded by armed soldiers, their grey tunics displaying a white ship. The streets teemed with horses, wagons, and chattering people, and she wrinkled her nose at the brackish smell that hung in the air, so different from that of Lake Mithrim. The sheer bustle, too, was overwhelming - not even her grandfather’s fortress at Barad Eithel had been so busy, and she found herself trying to look everywhere at once.

 

A man in livery cut his way through the throng and spoke to Lassir, who nodded and turned to Gurvadhor. “Braglanen will see that you and your men are given food and accommodations. I must escort Lady Ianneth to Lord Círdan.”

 

Braglanen directed a second man to take charge of the wagons of iron ore – Fingon’s gift – and led the soldiers down a cross-street. Lassir, though. beckoned to Ianneth and they continued down the main road before turning onto a smaller side street. Ereiniel continued to peer around, taking in the brightly-painted shutters on the wooden houses, so different from the familiar, subdued colors of Mithrim’s architecture.

 

“The stables are ahead, my lady,” Lassir said, “and my lord’s home is only a short walk from here.”

 

When they reached the stables, Lassir dismounted and turned his horse over to a stable-hand before reaching up to help Ereiniel to the ground. She did her best not to wriggle and stood chewing her thumbnail as she waited for her mother. Ianneth, too, passed Cordof’s reins to one of the stable’s elves before taking Ereiniel by the hand. "Remember your manners,“ she murmured.

 

Ereiniel nodded and leaned against Ianneth, her legs stiff. "Thank you, Master Lassir,” she said.

 

He led them down another street, broad and obviously well-traveled, and stopped before a cluster of long, low buildings set in a square and fronted by a verdant vegetable garden. "This is my lord’s home,“ he told them as they walked up the path to the door. Ereiniel watched her mother, who was studying the garden with an expression of pleasant surprise and surreptitiously sniffing the air.

 

"These are very fine plants,” she said. "I assume they’re fertilized with fish?“

 

He nodded. "It’s the most efficient thing to use here, even if it does get rather pungent in the summer.”

 

“Fruitful plants are worth foul smells,” Ianneth agreed.

 

Ereiniel gripped her hand more tightly as Lassir opened the door and escorted them inside. The entryway was airy, with walls fashioned from warm-toned wood and windows in the ceiling to let in the sunlight. A carved settle rested against one wall, and Lassir gestured to it.

 

“If you would sit, my lady, I will inform Lord Círdan that you are here,” he said.

 

“Thank you, Lassir, but there is no need.” A sinewy man with silver hair and bright eyes strode down the hall, smiling in welcome. “I hope your journey was uneventful?”

 

Clearly this was Lord Círdan, whom Fingon had told her she was to mind. Growing up between her father’s court in Hithlum and the High King’s court at Barad Eithel, she had observed many Men and many Elves, but the person standing before her was unlike anyone she’d ever seen. As Lassir answered, Ereiniel tugged insistently on her mother’s hand. "He has hair on his face like a Man,“ she whispered, staring with wide eyes. "But he’s an Elf.”

 

“Hush!” Ianneth scolded, but Círdan merely laughed and knelt down to be at eye-level with the girl.

 

“Are you certain it’s hair and not seaweed, little Ereiniel? I’ve lived by the sea for a long time,” he said, his eyes twinkling. "If you stay here long enough you may grow some yourself.“

 

She giggled and felt her mother’s tension ebb. Círdan smiled. "Now, if you and your lady mother will come with me, I will show you where you are to live, and Master Lassir can return to his family.”

 

They were taken to their rooms and then given a brief tour of the house. It was actually a group of houses, connected by outdoor passages covered by intricately-carved awnings, and arranged in a square around a small paved courtyard. Camas and sea lavender lined the walls, and a few pale stone benches were artfully placed.

 

Nearly everything else was made of wood, ranging from pale cypress to rich gum, smooth and without splinters. The smells were strange, unlike the pine that Ereiniel was used to, but not unpleasant, and the knots in the walls were like little eyes peeking back at her.

 

"Where are the Houses of Healing?” Ianneth asked. “I have some skill at healing, if you could use another set of hands.”

 

“They’re on the other side of the market,” Círdan said. “I’ve arranged for someone to guide you around the city for the next few days. There’s also an area near the market where many of the children play.” He flashed a smile at Ereiniel and then, to Ianneth, said, “There’s always a mother or two keeping an eye on them.”

 

They had circled back to their new rooms, and Círdan stopped, easing the door open. “Would you like to refresh yourselves before joining me for dinner? I can have water brought up for a bath.”

 

“That would be wonderful,” Ianneth said gratefully.

 

They bathed, washing away the grime of the long journey, and ate with Lord Círdan, who spoke mostly to Ianneth. The conversation was dull, all adult-talk, and Ereiniel was soon bored. But she resisted the urge to build a castle out of her mashed potatoes, remembering her mother's frequent admonitions not to play with her food. Still, she grew fidgety, and Ianneth soon excused the two of them for the evening, tucking Ereiniel in and then unpacking some of their things.

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Chapter End Notes

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