Sylvanlight, Book I by slflew

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Chapter 22. Learning.

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Chapter 22.

"All ye Elves deem that we die swiftly by our true kind. That we are brittle and brief, and ye are strong and lasting. We may be 'Children of Eru,' as ye say in your lore; but we are children to you also: to be loved a little maybe, and yet creatures of less worth, upon whom ye may look down from the height of your power and your knowledge, with a smile, or with pity, or with a shaking of heads." - Andreth, Morgoth's Ring

Cerederthan bowed before the monk. "I return with much news."

"And you are welcomed," the monk in green said calmly, dark eyes scanning over the group. "But you bring a host with you!"

"Indeed. Some have given us safe passage and seek reward."

The monk nodded. "It will be given. The return of our brother is worth much. But who are the others you have brought?"

Cerederthan squinted against the sun. "All in good time, my friend."

The monk inclined his head, then turned and led them up several flights of stairs, carved deep into the mountain face, to the monastery. The walls were thick, but once they were inside, it was very warm - enough to flush Gwen's cheeks. Her heart was beating quickly and her stomach was doing flip-flops. They were so close to her mother! But she was sure there would be a way to meet her soon, so she said nothing. They were shown to a small room filled with heavy yellow woolen robes and their stale smell, where they unloaded all their cumbersome trappings. The monk in green called another monk and spoke with him briefly in quick Quenya.

Their group was led into a large hall, quite obviously a banquet hall, with short tables and cushions for sitting on the floor. The walls were covered with great tapestries, hung from ceiling to floor and with lavish colors. They were instructed to wait, and the monk in green disappeared down the hallway. They stood there awkwardly. The faint smell of incense hung in the air, as well as a light touch of smoke from the fire crackling in the center of the room.

Gwen wandered around, beginning to look more closely at the tapestries. They were not covered in large pictures, but rather sequences of smaller ones, woven tightly. While some of the pictures seemed connected, others did not. Then she saw one picture of a star falling, and looked to examine it more closely. Cerederthan came up behind her.

"These are tapestries that the monks weave, depicting the dreams they have had of the future," he said to her softly. "Some of these have already happened, some never will. The future is always changing." He glanced at the star. "That one has certainly happened. More and more of them are coming true - like this one" - he pointed at a woman, carrying wings in her hands and fleeing a tower.

"Does Lorien help you to see the future?" she asked.

"Yes and no. Both Men and Elves sometimes have - to a degree - the ability to see the future, or the present. We call it foresight. But before Lorien retired to his deep dreaming, he taught us ways to see the future far more clearly, so that we might be able to guide the world far better than it has fared in the past. The monks weave them here so that we might all perceive them. There are even more written down in scrolls and placed in the libraries. It takes time to weave these, and there are always more visions to be had."

"Do you receive these visions naturally, then?"

"Foresight comes naturally, yes. We try to induce this through meditation. But deeper dreaming, and sight of the future, comes from the herbs we use - like the ones I used when you were in your cell."

"Ah," she said, but was interrupted when the monk re-entered, bearing a sack filled to the brim with gold.

"Will this do?" he asked. Herion made a show of hemming and hawing over it, but accepted it nonetheless. He bowed to Cerederthan. "You're an honorable fellow," he said, "and I wish you all the best luck can offer." His gaze flicked briefly to Gwen, then he turned and left, along with the others from his band.

The monk indicated for them to sit around the fire, and pulled a teapot off the flames. He spooned some powder to cups, filling them with hot water and dishing them out, one by one. Gwen gratefully accepted it, wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell. She wasn't much of a tea drinker, but it was hot.

Cerederthan spoke with the monk in indiscernible Quenya. Frodo and Touchstone exchanged glances. "Do you know what he's saying?" Touchstone murmured to Frodo.

"Very little," said the hobbit. "I know some Elvish, but only words and phrases."

"They're talking about you," whispered Eleyond. "See? They keep glancing your way."

"Can you make it out?" she asked.

He concentrated hard and shook his head. "It's too archaic. Those aren't the forms I know."

She sipped her tea until the two of them rose. "Forgive my rudeness," said Cerederthan. "This is one of the head monks in our order - Daeron. He'll be showing you to the rooms you'll be staying in."

They were escorted to another section of the monastery, busy with the comings and goings of monks. Gwen's room was windowless, lit by the same crystals as had been in prison cell. Carpets covered the floors, and a single feather bed was heaped with blankets. The others were staying just down the hall.

Fairly quickly a maid came in to draw up water for a bath from a spigot. "Hello," ventured Gwen. She showed the maid her hand, and the woman's eyes widened.

"How does a slave come to a place like this," the woman asked, "and not be housed in the slave quarters?"

"It's a long story," Gwen said dismissively. "What's more important is that I believe my mother works here. Her name is Shannon?"

The woman considered this for a moment. "I've heard of her - she works in the kitchens. But I don't know much more than that."

Gwen leapt off the bed. "That's good enough for me! Can you tell me where the kitchens are?"

The woman answered with a string of complex directions, but Gwen wasn't really listening. In her mind, she was safe in her mother's arms. She took off without a moment's notice.

She went down the hall and up two sets of stairs before becoming completely lost. Gwen decided to keep heading upward, and ended up on the roof - which was covered in a greenhouse, steaming and full of plants. Deciding on a floor-by-floor search, she went back and forth downwards. On her way through one of the hallways, she came across a set of three large red-painted doors. Cautiously, she opened one and slipped through.

The smell of incense grew stronger; her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. She was standing on a balcony within a larger hall. It was faintly lit by small windows near the ceiling, but a large pair of statues was illuminated by candles. These statues, carefully carved out of stone, were clearly of Lorien and Este, both reclined, sleeping. The room was carpeted in red, with monks sitting and chanting softly before the figures. Before she was discovered in a place she shouldn't be, she immediately left.

By the time her nose found its way to the kitchen, it was running on night staff - four sturdy women baking bread and pounding rice for the next day. "Is Shannon here?" she queried, but the women shook their heads. Her mother, it turned out, would be in the slave quarters, as it was the end of her shift. Gwen made sure she understood the directions before following them.

She wound up having to go outside in order to get to the complex. There were coats available, but she was from Maine - she could handle a short bit of cold. She took a deep breath of warm air, and burst out into the mountain air. She ran the distance, her fingers in her armpits, and entered the building, grateful for the warmth. Going down the hall, she asked the first person she saw what room her mother might be in. The girl told her, and she ran to it, knocking on the door.

It opened to her mother's face, puzzled and then joyfully relieved when Gwen hugged her tightly. There were tears on both their parts - Gwen's suppressed grief surfacing from deep within.

She found out that what she had suspected was true - that the monks treated their slaves well. Her mother needed nothing, aside from being united with her family once more, and, of course, freedom. Gwen poured out everything that had happened - all the strange things. Her mother sucked in her breath when she heard about the death of Tulkas.

"You killed someone?" she breathed. "Your reasoning is sound, but still - I'd never thought you would be able to do such a thing."

"There's more," Gwen said, and told her the rest of the story.

"You're a fugitive? Here?" her mother burst out, her grip on Gwen tightening. "Gwen, you've put yourself in extreme danger!"

"Mom!" she protested, breaking free. "There's nothing I can do about it! Besides, can't you see? There's something bigger going on here!"

"Like what?"

Gwen faltered. "I don't really know. This is all leading somewhere. No one's ever been able to kill one of the Valar before, and my doing so proves something. That they aren't gods? I don't know. But certainly the society here is ripe for change."

"I've never known much about the ways outside of this monastery, Gwen, and from what you're telling me, I agree."

"Cerederthan's brought me here for a reason, that's for sure. It's not just for asylum."

Her mother nodded.

*

Gwen went along with her mother for the morning shift. She was given a bowl of fruit-laden oatmeal for breakfast as the kitchen busied in preparation for the monks' morning meal. The dining commons was extensive, with long wooden tables that had to be set. Gwen was pushing a cart of bowls for another servant when Cerederthan found her.

"I have been looking everywhere for you! Where have you been?" he scolded.

"With my mother."

His face relaxed. "Oh - I'm sorry, it's just - you had me worried, since you're wanted across the continent."

"Yes, well, I should've told you, but I was eager and didn't know where you were."

"Fair enough. But we have much to do, and there is little time. Locals are bringing in reports of the police asking questions in outlying villages. They may be here soon. This monastery may be forgotten, but they're searching hard for you. They may be here before we know it. Come with me."

Gwen apologized to the servant and followed Cerederthan's billowing robes. He had gotten new ones - blue this time, made of rough wool edged with faint embroidery.

"Leave you alone for a night, and instead of enjoying luxury, you return to the slave's life," he said wryly. "Your mother is doing well, I hope."

"Well enough, for her situation."

He nodded disinterestedly. "You are going to meet with the heads of the monastery - a group of very old and powerful individuals. Your arrival is very important to us all. Just be respectful, something I'm sure you'll have no trouble doing. But first we need to get you out of those clothes."

Gwen looked down at her dress - the one Feanor had bought her what seemed like ages ago. The hem was ragged from abuse and where she had torn it to staunch her wounds. It was bloody and stained from mud and food.

Cerederthan stopped in front of his room. "Come, there isn't much time before the meeting. I've laid out some clothes I could find on the bed."

She went in, and he closed the door behind her. She was in a hurry, and didn't take time to look around. She grabbed the clothes and put them on - a maroon linen wrap-around shirt with faint embroidery at the hems, and brown pants. Then she burst out of the room and followed Cerederthan's long strides.

*

Early that morning, Tegalad, a newly elected junior member of the Elder Council, woke up to attend one of the meditation sessions he enjoyed. It was not nearly as relaxing as he'd hoped - more visions of war.

He went to one of the kitchens to quickly have a biscuit, passing through the laundry room bustling with slaves tending large cauldrons of steaming water to get there.  He couldn't focus when he was hungry. Then he went to the special session called for an important visitor - he had no idea who the visitor was, though.  The novices were huddled in groups talking, not yet settled down, their bright colored robes in sharp contrast to the red tapestries that hung ceiling to floor behind them in the great space. Tegalad  stepped up onto the slightly elevated dais reserved for the elders, glancing at his cushion, not wanting to kneel just yet. Glancing around, he saw his mentor, Arandur, talking to the head of their order and went up to them.

"...that's why the entire thing is so exciting," Arandur was saying, then noticed Tegalad. "Ah, you're here!"

"Yes, I wouldn't miss something like this. But I haven't heard anything about the meeting itself. Who is our visitor?"

They looked at him, bemused. "You really don't know, do you?" said the head monk with a short laugh.

Tegalad's cheeks flushed. He felt like an idiot.

"It seems that Brother Cerederthan has brought the girl to us whom he believes is the one we're looking for," said Arandur quietly.

Tegalad frowned. "Is that so?"

The warning bell sounded, and there was a rush as novices bustled to their places, the late ones hurrying through the doors. Tegalad calmly strode and knelt on his assigned cushion, as did the other council members, arranging their crimson robes around them. Calamaethor, a noted fierce monk, sat next to Tegalad. He was highly honored by all as a master of melcinitan, a form of defense now taught to all monks that were being sent out into Valinor. Tegalad himself had to learn from Calamaethor before going, and had come to respect the elf. Beneath the gruff exterior was a passionate person who enjoyed meditation as much as he did fighting. Glancing at the statues of Lorien and Este behind the head monk, Tegalad wished he had that kind of dedication.

His attention snapped back to the present as the heavy wooden doors opened to reveal Cerederthan along with a girl who was far younger than he expected. She looked worried, gazing about the room, and spoke with Cerederthan briefly before the two came forward to sit on the cushions provided.

The bell sounded once more to begin the meeting, and the head monk stirred. "This meeting will come to order," he said. "Since our guest understands only Breech, we ought to use it for this meeting."

They all nodded. The head monk turned his attention to the girl. "Would you please tell us more about yourself?"

She wet her lips. "My name is Gwendolyn, and I'm a slave of Numenorean descent. My family, along with many others, was brought here from another world, where a Numenorean population was residing."

Tegalad had heard of this - one of the monks had brought the news of the events surrounding the fall of the Star of Earendil, a significant prophecy in the monastery's lore.

"Feanor was my master," she added, unsure of what more she could say.

"Are you quite sure of your Numenorean heritage?" asked Veryamorcon, one of the monks across from Tegalad.

She looked at Cerederthan, who gave no reaction. "I'm fairly certain," she said. "I was chosen for breeding stock, and my master says I have strong bloodlines - he had to pay a lot for me."

"It is also our understanding that you killed the Vala Tulkas," said Arandur. Tegalad's heart stopped. Had he heard right? A Vala, killed? How was that possible? The novices stirred and whispered with one another as they processed the same information.

"Would you please describe the incident for us?" asked the head monk. "Every detail is important."

Tegalad half-listened to the story as thoughts roiled around in his head. He had suspected for a long time that the Valar were not gods, and here was the proof. He had always kept his doubts secret, having come to the monastery as a young elf. His parents were part of the roving northern tribes that hunted and trapped for a living, where belief in the Valar was a daily part of life, perpetuated by Maiar living among them. When Cerederthan, then as he was now a roving monk, saw something in him, he was sent to the monastery to begin a different kind of life, despite his doubts. So he had kept quiet and advanced.

Gwen had finished her tale, and the elders were nodding.

"This is an event we have long foreseen," Calamaethor said firmly. "We just never knew that the fall of Earendil would herald it."

The head monk looked troubled. "If our visions are true, then this event will lead to war - a very long one."

"Why would such a person have that power in the first place?" asked Veryamorcon. "The girl is only of the race of men."

Cerederthan opened his mouth to speak, but Gwendolyn cut in before him. "Actually," she said, "I do have Elven and Maiar ancestry."

"Of course," Calamaethor said with a smile. "That would be the influence of Melian and Luthien, would it not?"

"In fact, I was told by Finrod that my ancestry is far closer than that," Gwendolyn pointed out. "Maiar and Elves have married into the Numenorean bloodline ever since they were stranded on my planet."

The elders whispered amongst one another. "That's a span of about fifteen-hundred years, yes?" asked Arandur.

Gwen shrugged. "Perhaps."

"A very short amount of time. Do you know how many of your ancestors were of other races?" asked the head monk slowly.

Gwen shook her head. "Maybe Finrod would know."

Tegalad took a shaky breath. This was impressive. The effect of a single union between elf and human had lasted for thousands of years - the tight timeline for Gwen's description had never occurred before, not even in Valinor. The unions between races remained very few, particularly because of the way they viewed one another - elves feeling superior to men, and men angry against their aggressors. Maiar were usually kept too busy by the Valar to form any attachments. 

"This may be the determining factor for Gwen's ability - the strong union of races within her blood," said Cerederthan. "I believe this has been hypothesized in the past."

The elders nodded. "We and the Numenoreans both have long awaited for your coming," said Calamaethor.

Tegalad couldn't keep quiet. "What is the extent of your abilities?" he asked, forgetting to speak in Breech. "Do you know what power you have?"

The girl looked blankly at him, uncomprehending. Arandur jumped in. "Forgive him. He asked about what abilities you've observed as having. Have you noticed anything else of importance, aside from being able to kill a Vala?"

She thought for a long while. Tegalad looked at his hands, unable to meet Arandur's solemn look. Finally she spoke.

"I guess I hadn't realized it, but as soon as I stepped on the planet, Earendil's star fell. I don't know if that was just a coincidence, or what it was. Then I later rescued Elwing from her tower, by opening the doors barring her in."

"We were as of yet unaware of the fact you rescued Elwing personally! She did not mention that," exclaimed Cerederthan.

"So if this was not coincidence, you may be able to break the bonds of the Valar," the head monk concluded.

"There's something else I think is related - I think I can touch the Valar as well, which explains why I could kill one," she said.

Veryamorcon frowned. "How would you know that?"

The girl looked uncomfortable. "A visit with Ulmo, I believe."

Silence filled the room, the weight of many minds thinking pressing all around.

"And so begins the end of the world," murmured the head monk.

Tegalad recognized what this meant with clenching of his gut. Dagor Dagorath.

*

Soon afterwards, the end of the meeting was called, much to the relief of Gwen. She had felt quite uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gazes of so many people.  The room began to empty, and she stood as the council got up and began to cluster around her, some waiting austerely while others clasped her hand and spoke in rapid Breech.

Eventually, all had left but one, the big-nosed one that had spoken in Elvish. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said sheepishly.

"Oh, it wasn't your fault," she told him. "I'm sure you're just not used to speaking Breech here."

"Gwen, may I present Tegalad, a promising young monk here." Cerederthan's voice was warm. "I brought him here a couple hundred years ago, and he's done exceptionally well for himself."

The elf gave an awkward smile.

"Won't you join us for breakfast?" asked Gwen.

Tegalad hesitated. "Sure."

Upon sitting down at the table, Gwen helped herself to the delicious-looking oatmeal she had seen cooking earlier. Tegalad wasn't as enthusiastic about the food.

"I heard that you came with several other people," he said.

"Yes - including Frodo Baggins, the Halfling," said Cerederthan. Tegalad's eyes widened in surprise.

"What?" Gwen had noticed his reaction. "He's a Halfling from the Green Lands, that's all."

"His story has been told far and wide." Tegalad was impressed.

Cerederthan looked at her solemnly. "And he deserves far more respect from you, young one."

She bit her lip. "What did he do?"

"He was an instrumental part of the War of the Ring in the Green Lands," Tegalad played with a piece of bread, his mind somewhere else. "He was a Ringbearer, and because of that was able to destroy Sauron."

"Wait - who was Sauron? The name sounds vaguely familiar."

Cerederthan got up to get a pitcher of water from another table. "Sauron was a Maia in league with Morgoth. He played an instrumental part in the history of your people, Gwen."

"How so?"

Before Cerederthan could answer, Tegalad spoke. "He submitted himself as a prisoner to the Numenoreans, when they marched upon him. His voice was still heard and listened to, and the lies he spoke took root. As with many lies, there was a kernel of truth - he said that the Valar created the idea of a God to claim authority, and that the Valar themselves did not have authority. This struck directly at the heart of the Numenorean monotheistic religion - but few actually listened. However, it was the latter idea that is actually true - the Valar are not gods, but Eru is - "

"You'd better keep that idea to yourself," Cerederthan said in a dangerously low voice. "More than your career would be in danger. You must not speak so freely about such things."

Tegalad looked down at his plate. "I'm sorry - I'm just so excited after what I've heard, and being with someone so important..."

"What happened?" Gwen asked, garnering a confused look from Tegalad.

"Oh! Right. Numenor," he recalled. "Sauron began an underground cult worshipping Morgoth. Even some of the rulers of Numenor joined in - part of its allure lay in its promises of immortality." He lowered his voice, leaning over to her. "The situation was complex; some believe that Sauron was sent to do this by the Valar to give them a reason for destroying Numenor. The Valar never gave the Numenoreans the island of Numenor - it was found by them. The Valar fear the Numenoreans, Gwen. They feared their monotheistic beliefs and the strength of their heritage. They never thought an elf-human marriage was possible - they never expected a lot of things. But nevertheless, there were some who still believed in the monotheistic ways, and they listened to the pleas of visiting Elves from Valinor. When they set out to help them, the Valar realized it was a prudent time and sunk the island, bringing all of their kind to become slaves as punishment for their disobedience. Thus the Valar strengthened their positions and gained a large labor force."

"There was a group of Numenoreans who split off to found their own country," added Cerederthan. "Led by Elendil. They didn't believe in either religion prominent in Numenor - they followed the beliefs promoted by the Valar. They were heralded as heroes and endorsed by the Valar."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Gwen asked. "They chose what they wanted to believe."

"They deserted us when we needed them," said Tegalad. "Think of a strong host of Numenoreans, coming to help us demand freedom from the Valar."

"But the entire host was destroyed by the Valar," said Gwen. "How could more have helped?"

Tegalad paused midway through taking a drink. "I don't know."

"At least in that way a group of free Numenoreans survived," said Cerederthan, digging into a bowl of rice. "But I think that before, the Valar were working together, and were capable of far greater actions. Now their numbers are fewer, and they are set against one another. I don't think they could sink a host of ships along with an island nowadays."

"There is still a steady number of Numenoreans in Valinor who follow Sauron's cult," said Tegalad, taking a swig of wine.

"There are?" Cerederthan and Gwen blurted out simultaneously. They looked at one another. "How could you possibly know that?" asked Cerederthan.

"They keep themselves very quiet," said Tegalad. "When I was a roving monk, I disguised myself as a slave and walked among them. Part of the reason why they're so unnoticed is that they no longer practice human sacrifice."

"They practiced human sacrifice?" Gwen asked incredulously. "That's awful!"

"That would get them noticed rather quickly," Cerederthan said. "The government tries to keep a detailed record of all slaves."

"So Morgoth holds sway over a number of Numenoreans?"asked Gwen. Tegalad nodded.

Suddenly a hand was placed on Gwen's shoulder, and she jumped. She looked up to see Eleyond's brown eyes.

"Excuse me," he said, "I hate to cut in on such an interesting conversation. But may I steal Gwen away for a bit?"

Cerederthan gave a small smile and a nod. Gwen got up, bumping into the table. Eleyond reached out a hand to help her, and as she took it, she had a funny feeling in her gut. I must've eaten something that didn't agree with me, she thought, and walked beside Eleyond out of the room.

She looked at him, scrutinizing his features. He was quite fair for an elf, with a handsome profile. He looked at her suddenly, and she glanced away.

"I hope you're enjoying your stay here," he said.

"Yes, I am. But what've you been doing? Anything interesting?"

He shrugged. "This and that."

She waited for a more accurate description, but none came. "Where are we headed to?" she finally ventured.

They started up a flight of steps. "One of the meditation rooms. It's quite beautiful - I wanted you to see it."

Gwen opened her mouth and shut it again. She'd been having a good conversation. She didn't really want to see a pretty room. But she liked Eleyond, and was sure he had a good reason for this. When they had gone up perhaps six flights of stairs, he led her down the hall, not making any conversation. Then he opened one of the doors to a room with a glass ceiling. It was quite warm inside, and a tree grew next to a small fountain inside. The room was decently large, and Gwen gave a small smile. "Yes, it's very nice. I hadn't expected to find something like this here." She was about to turn and go when Eleyond shut the door, with both of them inside.

The feeling in her gut increased. "Eleyond, what are you doing?"

He didn't answer, but walked towards the fountain. Suddenly it felt like all humidity was sucked out of the room, and the fountain changed shape. Ulmo rose out of the water, stepping onto the tiled floor. Eleyond bowed before the Vala. "I have done as you've asked." Eleyond's form blurred, becoming taller, and the being that emerged was blue, humanoid, and had webbed hands and feet. The Maia, she supposed, disappeared into the water.

For a moment the Vala and human looked at one another.

"Things have changed since last we met," said Ulmo, his aquamarine eyes mesmerizing. Water dripped from his salt-and-pepper goatee.

"When exactly was the last time we met? Did that visit underwater actually happen?"

He grinned. "You'll find that the boundaries between dreams and reality are very thin. The monks here will teach you that."

She crossed her arms. "How did you find me? Can any Vala locate me? Because if they can, I'm surprised I'm not dead yet."

"No, even I couldn't find you. It seems that you are invisible to us - perhaps one of the benefits of your inheritance. I knew you would be brought here, so I sent a Maia after you."

Her eyes widened. "Has Eleyond been a Maia this entire time?"

He snorted. "No. Just now. Eleyond is safe and sound in his room."

"Why are you here, then?"

He looked at her with an expectant expression. "You've discovered your talents - talents which I guessed you had a while ago. Now that you are in a temporarily safe spot, I think we ought to discern what you can and cannot do regarding the Valar. There are many people with questions, and many who will want you to fight for them. You must discover your limits so that you don't make empty promises."

She cocked her head. "And how do you expect to precisely determine what I can and cannot do?"

He grin returned. "How else? With experimentation, of course."

"What is the first thing you propose?" she asked.

He scratched his ear. "Well, the Valar are unable to find you. This would lead to the conclusion that our powers are unable to work on you. To make sure of this, I ought to try and do something to you."

"Like what?" she demanded. "You could just be looking for a way to kill me."

"Have I ever given you doubt that I'm on your side? If the Valar were able to kill you, they would have by now. You are a great threat. Now," he stepped closer to her, "I'm going to change you - make you a faun, I think - harmless."

Now Gwen was very nervous. Her stomach churning, she glanced at Ulmo, who was squinting, obviously focusing. Then she looked down at her feet.

They were shrinking - growing smaller, changing into...hooves.

"Hey!" she cried. "Stop it! It's working!"

He jerked back in surprise, and her feet returned back to their normal state.

"That shouldn't have happened," he said, frowning. "I don't understand."

She closed her eyes, still shocked by what had happened. She couldn't imagine it happening to someone else, permanently. It was just wrong.

Ulmo was thinking, pacing back and forth. "What were you thinking at the time I was doing that?"

"I don't know. I was nervous. I wasn't really thinking about anything."

"You were nervous. Why?"

"Because it might have worked."

He stopped. "And it did." Walking over to her, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Look. I've had my first physical contact with another race for the first time in thousands of years, and it's with you. I can touch you, Gwen. Now I want you to believe that I can't hurt you in any way. That for all my trying, I am unable to influence you. I'm going to try again, but don't be afraid, because it's not going to work."

He squinted again, and the knot in her gut tightened. But she took a deep breath, trying to relax. I feel nothing, she told herself. He can't do anything to me. When I look down, nothing will have happened.

She looked down at her feet, and sure enough, there they were, her ten toes. Looking up into Ulmo's face, she noticed it was creased in concentration. "It's not working," she said.

"I have to try my hardest. Any of the Valar would," he answered, and his fingers tightened on her shoulder. He exhaled and relaxed, removing his hand. "You did well."

She smiled a little. "Thanks."

"You must be desiring so much not to be found that subliminally, you're resisting the Valar's attempts," he said thoughtfully, then lunged at her.

She stumbled back, aghast, and ducked to one side to avoid him. He went past her and whirled around, grabbing her arm and knocking her off-balance. With a gasp she went down, landing flat on her back, then stretched and kicked at his knees with her feet. Grunting, he fell, but was immediately on top of her, arms reaching for her neck.  She struggled to kick his groin, but it was to this scene that Eleyond and Cerederthan burst in on, followed by a slew of monks.

"Hey! Get off her!" yelled Eleyond, going to snatch at the Vala, but his hands grasped nothing. Ulmo immediately got up, leaving Gwen on the floor, gasping for breath. Cerederthan knelt beside her, giving a hand to help her up. "Are you alright?"

"What were you doing?" demanded Eleyond, furious with Ulmo but powerless to do anything.

"Testing what Gwen could do with a Vala in a fight," Ulmo said calmly, adjusting his robes.

They looked at Gwen, who stood slowly. "I assume you were just trying to surprise me to get a better reaction," she said.

"Correct."

"If that was a real scenario, you would've died," Cerederthan was serious.

"I suggest that she be taught to fight as swiftly as possible. Every day your only hope of having freedom has the chance to be killed." He glanced at Cerederthan, then at the monks. "Don't expect all of the brethren to be accepting of what they've learned today."

With a nod to Gwen, he was gone, dispelling into the air like mist.

Cerederthan sighed with relief. "I'm sorry, Gwen.  I had no idea that Eleyond wasn't Eleyond until the real Eleyond came into the hall - "

She brushed some dirt off her tunic. "Don't worry about it. The visit was educational, to say the least."

The monks, seeing she was alright, left the room.

Eleyond crossed his arms. "He was clearly winning, and the Vala themselves as far as we know have no battle training to their benefit - they always use their powers. He's right, you're in for a lot of work." He looked at her mischievously. "Besides, how could you have possibly thought a Maia was me? Didn't you notice anything off?"

Gwen rubbed her neck. "No, nothing that wasn't normal - the brooding eyes, the constant frown..."

"The slouching posture," Cerederthan added, "the whining voice...."

Eleyond held his hands up with a smile. "I get it, I get it."