The Election Farce of Nargothrond: Of Dumbness, Treachery, and Brotherly Love by Dawn Felagund

Chapter 7: Celebrimbor Speaks at Council

Chapter 7: Celebrimbor Speaks at Council

Finrod’s councils were always noisy affairs, for the governance of a realm as extensive as Nargothrond was a complicated endeavor, but when shared among friends and kinsmen--as it was--then there was pleasure to be found as well, and more often than not, dire deliberations were superceded by the council’s thoughts on the realm’s best wines and music.

Finrod had carved from ancient oak a round table where all seats were equal, conveying no stature or preference, where all could speak and hear one another. He sat at the front of the room with his hands folded upon the tabletop, listening to the debates and gentle banters of his council, and his gilded crown was surpassed only by the bright gold of his hair. Nauglimir lay as easily as sleep at his throat, but the sapphires within it look lusterless and flat when compared to the light in his eyes, and when he rarely chanced to laugh, it rang around the halls like a peal of bells.

To his right, Orodreth slumped, after a night of fervent drinking, quietly nursing a headache by burying his nose in a flute of white wine. Further down the table, almost opposite Finrod, Celegorm and Curufin perched in tandem--as they always did--and their honeyed words sparkled with laughter.

To his father’s right sat Celebrimbor. His face was nearly lost behind a towering stack of books and parchments, and when he stood to speak, it created an interesting illusion, as though he was nothing more than a stack of books capped with a nondescript head.

“I wish to address the council,” he said in a voice that had all the glamour of dried, dead twigs, “regarding some research of mine that has recently come to fruition. It is my belief that the kingdom can never be too secure, and although we employ a guard who constantly roves the kingdom and although we take comfort in the secrecy of our realm--buffeted by the waters of the Narog, as we are--it would take only a single error or slip in judgment to lay us bare and open us to attack.”

The room had grown quiet. He looked down and saw his father’s bright eyes looking up at him. His Uncle Celegorm had his chin in his hand and was watching Finrod’s head healer--a silvery Telerin maiden with sad eyes--with vague interest. Finrod was staring into space--as were most of the other lords--and Orodreth was noisily pouring himself more white wine. Celebrimbor cleared his throat and went on.

“Over my last year here, the scouting reports have shown a mean average of fifty-four-point-two Orcs crossing the lands within ten leagues of the city. Of particular interest, however, is to note how these figures appear on a distribution.” Celebrimbor took from one of the ledgers before him a sheaf of papers, each with a meticulous set of graphs drawn upon it, and handed them to his father to begin passing around the room. “As you will note, the numbers have been slowly but steadily increasing, from a minimum of only thirty-nine during my first month here to a maximum sixty-two last month, implying that Morgoth is showing increased interest in these lands. Furthermore, the increase of Orc activity is taxing our scouts, and injuries have more than doubled in the last year, putting our scouts at risk, not only for injury or death, but--worst of all for the kingdom--capture.

“I have interviewed twenty-five Elves who survived and escaped Morgoth’s capture. Granted, it is a small sample, but most of their tales corroborate one another, and the numbers they provided show remarkable concordance, allowing me to make the following projections. First, Morgoth interrogates ninety-seven percent of his captives, asking primarily for the whereabouts of other Elven settlements. About eighty percent of captives are captured by Orcs, and a safe presumption holds that even a strong, armed Elf will likely be taken if he faces eighteen or more Orcs. Of those captured by Morgoth, seventy-two percent give him information that is in some way detrimental to our people. The others”--he swallowed hard and cleared his throat again--“are tortured to death.

“Based on demographic information, even a trained scout or warrior is just as likely as a simple craftsman--or even a child or maiden--to give information under certain kinds of duress. Interestingly, I noted that the compliance rates of captives seems to be increasing in the last century, implying that Morgoth has honed his techniques and now wastes less time on methods that will bring him no reward. We can no longer assume that we will remain safe and hidden forever. If the numbers of Orcs crossing our land continue to rise at the rates seen in the last year, in another decade we will have close to three hundred Orcs coming within ten leagues of the kingdom during any single month. Given that we only have fifty scouts watching the land, the chances that one of these scouts might be caught at unawares and taken captive becomes a serious risk to our security.

“For the last year, I have been working to find a method whereby we may keep surveillance of our lands without jeopardizing the lives and safety of our scouts and--for the reasons I have just given you--the entire kingdom. I have devised a system using crystals much like the palantiri but smaller, that when placed at key points across the land, will give us the ability to monitor the activity of enemies passing into the realm. Furthermore, I have devised a material by which the doors to our realm may be hidden from all but eyes that need to see it. To all others, the gates to the kingdom will look like nothing more suspicious than a wall of rock. In addition to these improvements, I have designed a series of alarms that will alert us to the approach of enemies within a league of the gates, enemies who might have evaded notice through our other system. This will give our army adequate time to prepare. No longer need we rely on the skills of a few scouts willing to risk their lives for the kingdom. With these advances, all citizens may remain safe until times of dire need, and families need not be sundered for the sake of our kingdom’s defense.”

“I thank you for your attention.” Celebrimbor sat down, disappearing again behind the stacks of books.

Celegorm picked at his nails and Finrod fidgeted with Nauglimir around his neck.

“Have you tried the new blueberry ale at the inn?” one of the lords asked another, at last.

“I was thinking of having our Lord Curufin make my wife a platinum circlet for our anniversary,” said another.

Orodreth let out a loud snore and upset the bottle of wine. One of the lords leaped across the table with a napkin to keep it from spilling onto the floor.

Celebrimbor sighed, and no one noticed.