I Dhaerlend Dadui - Chapter 6 - Under Way
For those who are still following this in here, here's a new chapter:
Círdan looked about the office. Very little of any real consequence was left for Aglaron to winnow through after the expedition's departure: a few maps, and a tally sheet for the massive amounts of supplies bought and paid for by either the House of the Peredhil, Thranduil himself, or a sizeable donation from Celeborn and his Galadhren warriors. It had been agreed that the share of expenses to be born by the Falathrim would be counted in the existence of the Aeardelien and the Gwaelaer for use by the expedition and/or Thranduil after the establishment of the first settlement in Avathar. But Aglaron needn't know that. Círdan smiled and decided not to destroy the tally sheet of supplies after all, for it showed the dedication and willingness of several usually exclusive groups to pool resources, something that was a trait born of necessity in Ennor and only now resurrected in Aman.
Unable to sleep and unwilling to leave to the very end those little niggling tasks that could inevitably delay the first steps of any venture, he had spent the nighttime hours destroying documents that either Aglaron would not need or which pertained only to the motley group that had gathered in Alqualondë. Few of the Felessril that had followed him here would be remaining behind; and of those, most were family members of those who had already joined their cause and only waited an established settlement before following. Elrond and his wife had graciously opened their estate to those who would not be going on this initial voyage, but would be joining their loved ones at a later date. Aglaron and his cronies would swoop in to find the rented shipyard here virtually unmanned and the shipwrights' yards without supplies or tools of any kind - and with Telerin leaseholders more than ready to reclaim the property once more.
So late was the hour, he was not expecting the soft knock on the office door. Blinking back surprise, he moved to open it, and then took a step backwards in utter shock. "You!"
"May I enter?" a soft and melodic voice asked hesitantly.
He gestured his invitation, and his late-night visitor moved into the room. Círdan closed the door and pointed to the utilitarian wooden chair, clearly instructing his guest to be seated, and then sat down himself behind the now-clear desk. "To say that I am surprised to see you here now would be an understatement," he began, his eyes taking in the simple garb and quiescent attitude of the one before him. "Given that the coming day is of great importance to me, however, I would wonder what brought you now?"
"I would beg admittance to your party, my Lord, as a simple warrior." The smooth tones and well born accent hadn't changed at all, and Círdan could hear traces of other voices that had been long silenced in it. "My term of service with the Telerrim mandated by the Belain is just recently concluded, and I only today arrived here."
"I am shocked that you were even allowed past the city guard," Círdan commented honestly.
"I have been allowed admittance here several times, on the bidding of those whose orders I served at the time," was the response, in wry tones that told a great deal without adding a single word. "I suspect that I was allowed entrance because the guard believed me still so obliged."
"You are aware of what we intend - and where we are going?"
"I have sought out all such information for the better part of the last year, from the moment the first rumors began to circulate. The hope that I would be released from service in time to join your party before you departed was all that made the very end of a long and humiliating term of service bearable." The grey eyes that gazed back at him were tired, and yet seemed to dare Círdan to strike a light of purpose in them again. "You go to forge a new realm, and I would go to forge a new destiny for myself."
"You believe that you might be able to escape the bonds of memory, Maglor? I tell you that this may not come to pass. Elrond himself sails with us…"
"Which is why I ask not to be included with the Lords in charge of the effort, but merely to be allowed to lend my sword to their protection. I have no desire to call attention to myself…"
"Few there are who have not at least heard of you, " Círdan warned. "And word of your admittance will carry, even unto Elrond eventually. No doubt, he will want to know why you have avoided speaking to him directly."
"He does not need reminders of a past that is quite painful," Maglor said gently. "And I would not add to his burdens. Should he ask you, tell him that, if you will; and when the time comes, if it comes, then I will deal with him directly. Until then, all I ask is a warrior's berth and a chance to lend my strengths and skills to your cause."
"Then again," Círdan pondered aloud, "having one with your skills in music could be quite beneficial in maintaining morale among…"
"I own no harp," Maglor stated flatly. "I have no more songs to sing. I came home only at Ulmo's insistence, and I threw my harp overboard the moment I knew it to be irretrievable. The Telir had no use for my songs anyway - not that I blame them - and I have no desire to revisit the man I was… before."
Cirdan grimaced. The news of Maglor's arrival in the Undying Lands had come only a very few decades after Legolas' return; and then the pronouncement of his doom had rocked the entire Elven population: to spend three long-years as menial servant to those who had been harmed the most in the execution of his father's Oath, doing whatever they asked of him without question or complaint or redress. In all that time, Círdan had believed that the musician son of Fëanor had at least had the solace of song; but now, looking at the very mien of the man, he could see that Maglor was at last beaten down.
"How long since last you wielded your sword?" he was forced to ask. Glorfindel would no doubt want to know. That brought on another grimace; he'd have to inform several others who would no doubt be less than pleased at this late development.
"A very long time," Maglor admitted, "but such skills will not take much honing to bring back." He held up his scarred hands. "They are not pretty to look at, and they no longer create beauty, but they still know the work of a warrior."
"Of that, I have no doubt. Finally, however, I must ask this: are you willing to give your oath of allegiance to Thranduil Oropherion, at least for the duration of this expedition? He it is that seeks to lay claim to Avathar and rule whatever settlement arises." Círdan's gaze grew sharp. "Can you bow down to a Tawarel?"
"I have a great deal of practice bowing down to others now," came the bitter reply. "But to answer your question, I would have no trouble at all bowing before and swearing loyalty to Thranduil. I have no quarrel with him or his people, and so no reason to refuse. If he proves as good a leader now as the stories have made him in Ennor, I would be proud to serve him."
"You realize that I must bring your request to at least Thranduil himself before giving you a final answer?"
Maglor nodded his head. "I had heard that today was the day you intended to depart. I would imagine that Thranduil will not be hard to find; and I shall not leave the docks until I have either been admitted or refused. With any luck, he will find no reason for rancor and will not deny my petition."
"Very well." Círdan's face softened slightly. "When was the last time you ate?"
"I do not hunger much anymore," Maglor began, and then let a rueful expression wash over him. "But I will not refuse if something is offered me."
"Then come." The light through the windows indicated that the dawn was almost upon them. "I am supposed to meet my second at the inn at first light. At the very least, you can have a decent meal and tell me of your time with the Telir."
Maglor gave him a sharp look, but then hunched his shoulders and nodded. "As you wish."
Yes, Círdan promised himself, he would seek out others to tell them of this unexpected addition to their group. Maglor would bear watching; this beaten, defeated elf was not what anyone would expect of a Fëanorion. What had happened to him? Círdan wasn't entirely certain he wanted to know.
oOoOo
As warm and as comfortable as he was, Thranduil knew that the time had come for him to rise. He carefully dropped a kiss on the top of Laeriel's head resting so close to his on the pillow and kept his movements slow and careful so as not to shift the mattress too much. Their last night together for a very long time had been tender and still tearful, and neither of them had gotten much sleep. Already he could tell that the dawn would arrive soon, and he had a last bit of packing to take care of before he wanted to face the distress of their actual farewell.
"Has the day come already?" The sleep-slowed mumble made him freeze for a moment, and then slump before turning back to her.
"I did not mean to awaken you," he apologized and framed her face with a hand. "There is time yet; doze for a while more."
"No." She stirred and propped herself up on her elbows to look at him through the errant wisps of golden hair that had escaped her evening braid. "The moments are too precious to waste in slumber."
Thranduil stretched and caught at her lips in a sweet kiss, the kind of kiss that he had so missed for so long. Even now he had to pinch himself sometimes to remember that such things were no longer only dreams. "I have but a bit more to pack," he offered with smile that hinted at interest in something far more pleasurable. "We could…"
"Thranduil." He almost laughed at the expression on her face.
"It was just a thought…"
Her hand was as gentle on his face as his had been on hers. "What I meant to say was," she began again, "I have quite a bit to do, and very little time to do it in. I really should get to it." She pushed herself to sitting full upright and twisted to put her feet off the bed.
Thranduil looked around their room at the inn. He'd been frankly astonished at the amount of luggage that Laeriel had brought with her. "You've barely unpacked, my love. You need only…"
"I had no intentions of unpacking much during our stay here." Laeriel was on her feet at almost the same moment Thranduil was. "I'll just get dressed and finish putting away the clothing I was wearing yesterday, so that you can help me carry my bundles to the ship."
He turned abruptly, all humor and amorous thoughts evaporated. "What do you mean? I am not carrying your anything to the ship. You are going home to Eryn Dithen…"
"I am not going back to Eryn Dithen. I am going with you," she stated firmly but gently. She turned to face him as her gown cleared her face. "Do not stare at me like I were one of those spiders from back home."
"You have said nothing of this before…"
Laeriel nodded calmly and folded her sleeping gown. "I know better."
"No. You are not going, and that is final." Thranduil shook his head and scowled at her. "This is not going to be a pleasure trip, Laeriel. None of us has any idea what we're going to be facing. Such a place is not safe…"
"Do you think I am not aware of that? Really, after you and Legolas told me what you were going to be up to, did you think I would just calmly sit back down to wait - again - for you to either return to me through Bannoth's Halls or send for me like forgotten luggage?" She refastened the leather straps that held the clothing bundle closed and studied the other bundles that lay arranged on the chest. "I suppose that I could carry it all, if you are unwilling."
The fact that her voice had stayed calm and rational was infuriating - as was the fact that he dared not thunder at her as he would have at home for fear of awakening the other guests in the inn. Oh, he had to admire her sense of timing, and admit that he had forgotten in the many long-years they had been apart that she was more than capable of taking advantage of any circumstance and using it against him. "This is neither the time nor the place…"
"There is no more time, and this is the only place we shall have to discuss this before it is time to cast off," she replied, "unless you wish to argue in front of everyone at the docks."
"Laeriel, there is a good chance there will be spiders there…"
"I know, husband." She was undoing the braid that had held her hair through the night. "I believe it was I who yet again mentioned that rumor abounds of Ungoliant's spawn being plentiful there long ago, when we last discussed this." Her fingers pulled through the long, golden fall and then began rebraiding it. "If you can face them for almost an Age, then I can do no less."
Thranduil snorted his frustration as he forced himself to finish his own packing. "This is not going to be a place for women…"
She threw her braid over her shoulder, her own ire beginning to show. "But I heard you and Legolas speaking of those of Círdan's folk who have joined in this venture not three weeks ago. He was telling you that Círdan had not prevented entire families from packing onto those fishing vessels that had joined in your caravan. If a fish monger's wife can come…"
"That is different. You…"
"Am I so delicate that I cannot still give our son decent competition at the practice range?"
Thranduil sighed. That wretched tournament! "I did not say that…"
"Do you believe that…"
"Laeriel!" He tossed down his bundle on the bed and caught his wife up in his arms. "My love! I want to keep you safe - and from spiders especially!"
"You will keep me safe," she replied in a tone of utter conviction, "for the same reason you will keep the fish monger's wife safe." She moved in his arms so that she could look him in the eye. "I know you, Thranduil Oropherion, and I know what I have heard of you from those who remained with you for long after I was gone. You were a good King, and took good care of your people."
Thranduil sighed again. He wanted so desperately to make certain that he would never have to watch her suffer as she had from that spider bite centuries ago, something that he would have to dread again if she got her way. "I cannot bear to think…"
"And I cannot either," she whispered, her lips brushing his cheek right at the corner of his mouth. "Can you not understand this? I have waited for you for so long, and I cannot be asked to sit and wait again. If we are together, we can take care of each other." He opened his mouth to respond, only to find her fingers covering his lips. "Listen to me. If you leave me behind, Thranduil, I will worry. I only barely managed to avoid needing to spend time in Lórien the last time we were apart with me waiting in Aman." The way her eyes filled with tears tore at his heart. "I do not want to go through that agony again. Please."
"And I do not wish to go through the agony of watching you perish from a spider's venom again," he managed finally, just as emotional as she was. "Please!"
"I will not place myself in danger; this I swear to you." Laeriel laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms about him tightly. "We had no idea that there were spiders in the Greenwood when I was bit, but this time we are forewarned and already cautious; and our warriors well-practiced in the art of battling them. The situation is changed."
Thranduil held her tightly, his eyes slammed shut in wishful denial. Her reasoning was sounder than he'd considered, and he knew better than to demand she obey him. The last thing he wanted to remember of her was her scorn; and the last thing he wanted to have to face on the entire voyage was her defiance. "You are not going to let me win this one, are you?" he asked finally in resignation.
"No," she replied gently, "not this time. Maybe the next one."
Finally he set her away from him. "I will agree to this under one condition: you will do as I ask, or as Glorfindel asks. He is my appointed commander of warriors; if he senses danger and wants you to remain in a safe location, you will obey without question."
"I am not a fool," she replied tersely. "I will not endanger myself unnecessarily. Of course, if you or Glorfindel insist on something for all the families involved, I will obey."
Again his eyes closed as he prepared to do something completely against his better judgment, certain that the moment would come when he would deeply regret it. "Very well, then. Where is your bow, your quiver?"
Laeriel looked down as if chagrined. "I sent it ahead to this inn weeks ago, asking the innkeeper to keep it for me against my arrival. We have only to ask downstairs."
Thranduil shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Take me with you," she replied immediately, "and have your family with you as you make a new life for us all." She glanced at the window. "The sun already paints the clouds. We should be breaking our fast and preparing to leave."
"You get to explain this to your son," he told her as he reached for his own bundle and the bulkiest of hers. "And I do not promise that the arguments that worked with me will work with him."
"You might be surprised," she smiled back at him, her good humor restored.
oOoOo
"So, I will not be aboard the same ship as you? Where will I be?"
Gildor patted the hand of his wife comfortingly. "When I told Thranduil of your insistence on accompanying me, his first thought was to deny you entirely." He patted Faerlinn's hand more firmly to forestay the complaint that was already forming on her lips. "But I prevailed on him, and he agreed that you could indeed sail, but only if you berthed on one of the fishing vessels that accompany us. There are already women and children on board those ships; and you would be safer there."
His eyes studied the graceful lines of the two larger ships, and then slid down the dock to where the three fishing vessels were berthed. The smaller ships were far less ornamental, as their purpose was a completely practical one, but they were not without grace. Thranduil's concerns were well met by the inclusion of these fisher-folk, and he was just as glad of the past and future monarch's decision.
"I would be safer with you," Faerlinn frowned, "but I will do as he says. No doubt he has his reasons."
Gildor breathed out an inaudible sigh of relief. Faerlinn had been by his side for the better part of two Ages of the world in Ennor, and all the while they had wandered Aman since arriving. It would be very strange not to know the peace of her being beside him for the length of time it would take before the future settlement was deemed safe enough to allow the women and children ashore. Then he resumed looking about the docks. "But where is Maenol? Was he not supposed to break his fast with us this morning? I have never known him to be so tardy at a meal!"
Faerlinn chuckled. "Your son is as eager to begin this new adventure as you are, my husband. He begged me to give you his regrets, but he would be up long before dawn to assist Glorfindel in assigning berths to the warriors as they boarded. He has become fast friends with the Peredhil - and with Thranduilion, of late. Already, it seems, he stands in a position of command, having been given charge of one squadron of warriors."
"And when did you learn this?" he gaped. He prided himself on being current with all of the latest developments in the venture; it was a little humbling to hear such important news from his wife.
"Yesterday, while you were in conference with Círdan and Thranduil and the Peredhil. I spent some time in the markets, purchasing things that we all will appreciate when we are far from our regular markets, and I spoke to him when I came upon him with Elrohir, doing much the same thing." She smiled proudly. "It was good to see him with others who share his past and experiences."
"I have hopes that this will be a good choice for all of us," Gildor nodded. "And I have no fears for those of our people who remain behind in Eldamar either. I spoke to Nóruithor, and he intends to continue the same route and schedule as we have been keeping."
She nodded. "That will give some continuity, both to those who wander and to those who normally await our arrival. Gildor?" Faerlinn pulled her husband to a near halt. "Wait - isn't that Thranduil - and isn't that his wife with him?"
"It is," he replied slowly, "and our erstwhile King of Avathar seems a bit more burdened than one would think he would be. Come." And now it was his turn to pull at his wife, this time to step lively. "Thranduil!"
Two golden heads turned at the call. Thranduil spoke softly to the woman on his arm, and together they turned and waited for Gildor and his wife to join them. "This is a bit of good luck," Thranduil said with a look of relief on his face. "I was just beginning to explain to Laeriel why she was going to have to be assigned a berth on one of the…"
"Oh!" Faerlinn's face broke into a wide smile. "Laeriel has decided to join you?" She turned to Gildor. "Now I shall not be discontent any longer. I at least will have someone I know on board with me."
Laeriel blinked. "You are traveling to Avathar as well?" Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at her husband. "Someone neglected to tell me that I was not the only woman other than the wives of Círdan's fisher folk."
Gildor met Thranduil's gaze and decided to take pity on the man. "In truth, Lady, I am surprised that your husband has been able to keep all the details he has been required to handle in his head. I mentioned Faerlinn's request to him only in passing." He had to work to stifle the smile that threatened when Thranduil merely closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.
In the time that small exchange took place, Gildor felt his wife pull her hand from his keeping and surround the shoulders of the more slender woman. "We should let the men talk, my dear," she advised, her dark hair a stunning contrast to Laeriel's. "Which of the three…?" She pointed down the dock.
"You there!" Thranduil called to one of the sailors on the deck of the Aeardelien. "Would you please take charge of these bundles and see them to the Aearwing? Escort the ladies on board as well, and see them settled."
The sailor immediately bowed. "It would be my pleasure, my Lord." He executed a graceful leap to the dock and hurried over. "Allow me." Within a few moments, he had taken all of the bundles that Thranduil was willing to turn over to him, as well as having relieved Gildor of a few. "My Ladies, the Aearwing is the middle of the smaller ships. Come this way…"
Both women gave quick kisses to their spouses before hurrying to catch up again with their guide.
"I thought you were going to have her stay with Celebrían until later," Gildor asked, his tone shifting to one of faint amusement.
Thranduil looked pained. "As did I, but Laeriel herself had an altogether different idea, which she sprang on me only this morning, when I was in no place or position to argue effectively."
"Did I just see both of your two ladies being taken down the docks to the fishing ships?" Círdan asked, coming up behind them. "I knew of your lady, Gildor, but Thran…"
"Do not ask," Thranduil sighed and then straightened. "Now, is all arranged, and we are ready to sail as soon as we know all have arrived?"
"I have had an unexpected request to join our enterprise," Círdan said, rubbing his beard in a way that told Gildor of his disquiet. "A late arrival begs to be allowed to join his sword and destiny to ours."
"Someone we know?" Gildor inquired carefully.
"In passing, if not in fact." The mariner turned to Thranduil. "Maglor Fëanorion requests permission to join our forces as a simple swordsman. He says he is willing to swear loyalty to you and serve your will."
"Maglor!" Thranduil's eyes widened. "Have you told Elrond of…"
Círdan shook his head. "No. And to be honest, I can appreciate Maglor's wish to keep a low profile - as well as his wish to distance himself from all the bad memories this place surely holds for him. He has assured me that if and when it becomes necessary, he will speak to Elrond himself."
"What about his term of obligation to the Telerrim? The Belain…"
"He says that he was just released from that service, and that he hurried to get here before we could leave."
Gildor watched Thranduil cross his arms over his chest and narrow his eyes, sure signs that the wood Elf was contemplating potential problems. He'd seen that same pose often of late, and never had the discussion it presaged been unproductive. "If he is looking to compete…"
Again Círdan shook his head. "No. I have no doubts that that is not on his mind." He motioned to the others and drew them slightly away from the press of people seeking their assigned vessels and bidding family farewell. "I think that these last long-years under the Telerren thumb have not been kind ones. He claims to no longer sing or wish to in any way resume any of the traits he once was best-known for. I honestly think that, if left to his own, he would never have left Ennor at all." He scowled. "If the purpose of the Belain in handing him over to the Telerrim was to deprive him of his pride, they succeeded beyond their dreams. Thranduil, the man is beaten."
"Still… once it is known that a man named Maglor Fëanárion is aboard…" Thranduil began again, shaking his head slightly. "Even I will have to work around my memories of Menegroth, and the knowledge of what he wrought there with his brothers."
Gildor put a calming hand on the taut upper arm. "Do we not all wish to distance ourselves from those whose memories are too long and too judgmental? Is it all that surprising that he would seek to do the same?" Thranduil gazed long at him, obviously torn, then nodded reluctantly. Gildor smiled. "Then we give him a chance at a new start in life by allowing him to leave his old life completely behind. Let him choose an epessë by which he can be known to his new comrades in arms. And watch as he is introduced, to see if any recognize him or seem to suspect."
Thranduil turned calculating green eyes on him. "You sound as if you are in favor of granting him his request."
"What could it hurt?" Gildor shrugged. "We all know that we will be able to use each and every willing warrior. And we are a small enough contingent that it will be easy to keep an eye on his comings and goings and musings. If he causes any problems at all, we can send him back on the ship when we return for those we left behind."
"I too would speak in favor of his inclusion," Círdan added in a slow and thoughtful tone. "Gildor is right: we all seek to craft new destinies for ourselves and our peoples. And in doing so, should we deny the opportunity to do exactly that to one whose past is indeed a heavy burden?"
"He would have to swear loyalty…" Thranduil began.
"I have already broached that topic with him, and he finds no reason not to swear fealty to you," Círdan spoke quickly.
Thranduil sighed. "Where is he, then, that we can accomplish this and move forward before the day is completely spent?"
"I left him in the inn where I met with Arnon to run over last minute details, telling him that if his offer was acceptable, I would fetch him." Círdan gestured for Thranduil to accompany him. "Truth be told, from his expression as I left the table, he fully expects to look out the window and see our ships all under full sail and him still on dry land."
"Who expects to be left behind?" Olórin made his way over to the trio through the crowd, which seemed to part for him without any effort at all.
"Gildor, would you bring our late-arriving friend up to date while I take care of… formalities?" Thranduil asked with an impatient wave of the hand. "Come, Círdan, as I said, I would like to move forward before the day is spent."
Gildor turned to the Maia with a crooked smile. "It seems we have a new warrior to outfit and berth, one Maglor Fëanárion."
But he was not prepared for the way Olórin threw his head back and guffawed loudly and heartily. "Do we now?" he chortled when he recovered himself sufficiently. "Do we indeed?"
oOoOo
Elrond turned away from the sight of the port of Alqualondë once it was no longer possible to make out the faces of any of the people who lined the docks to either gawk or bid farewell. Celebrían, he knew, was among them; he had held her face in his sights for as long as he could. But, at last, it was time to look forward. And for the first time in a very long time, he genuinely looked forward to the unknown and the challenges it would present.
A muffled guffaw sounded from behind him, and he turned to see Galion gazing with amusement at Thranduil as the latter looked out to sea. Galion noted that he was being observed, and then tipped his head to lead Elrond's glance over to the tall, golden-haired Elf beside him. Elrond stifled the urge to chuckle himself, and instead moved to Thranduil's side to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Not a sailor, I take it?"
"Naur ar nuath! I swore I would never board another vessel heading to sea," Thranduil groaned. "I should have listened to myself; or rather, I should have remembered my promise to myself and the reason behind it when Legolas suggested this."
"You should have seen him on the way to Aman," Galion chuckled, making Thranduil groan yet again. "He was green the moment we got beyond the breakwater at Mithlond, but once we crossed the veil between the Belegaer and the Straight Road…"
"Galion, if you go any further into that tale, I shall have you digging latrines for the settlement until I get tired!" The deep voice sounded miserable and ominous.
Elrond deliberately ignored Galion to tighten his hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "That bad?" he asked comfortingly.
"I do not anticipate either enjoying the scenery or being in a good mood until I am back on dry, unmoving land again."
"Nonsense. I have something that should help make the journey far more tolerable." Elrond patted Thranduil's back and headed for the hatch that led below deck. "I shall be right back."
Since there was limited space on board the Aeardelien, much of Elrond's healer's gear had been stored down in the hold with the rest of the supplies - although placed for easy access. The darkness was no obstacle, for he had insisted that his bag be hung from a peg on the post at the very bottom of the stairs. He had just got a good grip on it when a wave made the ship roll slightly, and he could hear some of the supplies that hadn't been tied down shift.
He also heard a very soft, "Ow!" from somewhere to the right and halfway down the length of the hull.
"Who's there?" he asked in concern. To the best of his knowledge, all of the men - warriors, sailors and nobles alike - were still on deck, many watching the shoreline slip slowly past. The voyage had barely started; there was no reason for anyone to be down here besides him.
Unless…
Two days before, Finwë had sent a message detailing a rumor that had been circulating in Tirion, regarding some disgruntled men possibly seeking to sabotage the venture. The idea that so many would be so eager to abandon Eldamar had not settled well, especially in the lower classes of Calaquendi; with overtones of some of the religious extremists teaching that any desire to leave being tantamount to heresy against the Belain. Even a declaration from Finwë himself, stating that the Belain themselves had not prohibited but actually given permission for the venture, had done little to quell the unrest.
Was one of those here, on the ship?
Elrond's hand sought his dagger. "Come now," he called out tersely. "Do not think that I will not send down a squad of warriors to flush you out!"
Was that a soft moan he heard? Then: "Do not send for warriors. I will come - if I can get out from behind this…" There was a grunt, the sound of something hitting the wood decking.
Elrond's frown grew deeper as the voice resolved itself into a more feminine tone. "Who is it?"
"Me." A shadow loomed in the darkness that faltered as if tripping over obstacles, and then a vaguely familiar face appeared at his right hand.
"A woman?!" Elrond gaped. "What in the name of all the Belain are you doing…"
"Please!" Her hand caught at his arm like a claw and hung on tightly. "Please do not take me back! I want to be with…"
Frowning again, both at her gender and at her obvious Midhren-accented Sindarin, he caught at her arm and pulled her up the stairs with him, and then again onto the deck. "This is no place for women! What were you thinking?"
"Who is this?" Thranduil demanded angrily. "And I thought we all agreed that the women would all stay onboard the…"
"Your name, child," Elrond began.
"Elrohir calls me Linnaew; that is my name now!" she declared proudly, her chin lifted in defiance.
Elrond's lips quirked as he restrained a smile. He remembered his unmarried son speaking of his dallying with a Midhren girl now, and noting that Elrohir had begun to sound quite serious about the relationship. Oh, Elrohir, my son! This one will give you a run for the prize! "My apologies, my dear. I know you now; my son has spoken often of you. Thranduil, this is Linnaew Astaroniel, a young lady that Elrohir has been courting…"
"We are betrothed," Linnaew announced proudly, her chin lifting just a bit higher.
Elrond blinked at her in surprise. "Elrohir has said nothing of this to me…"
"But what is she doing here!" Thranduil bellowed, and then covered his forehead and eyes with a hand. "Nuath! I had best not do that again…"
"Here." Elrond dug in the leather bag until he found the yellow linen pouch that held the bits of sugared ginger. He handed one small piece to the ailing wood-elf. "Suck on this for a while, it should help. I shall craft you a more permanent aid momentarily. However…" He drew himself to his full height and looked down on an obviously disguised Linnaew. "…I am waiting, as is King Thranduil, for an explanation, young woman."
Linnaew looked over at the golden-haired man, who glared at her with tired-looking green eyes, with some fear. "K…king Thranduil? Who?"
"Just tell us your story, girl," Galion stepped forward, his calm in marked contrast to the surprise and ire of the others.
"Elrohir and I had decided that we would wed," Linnaew aimed her remarks at the much kinder-faced of the three, "but my father does not approve. We are Minil, and most of us…"
Elrond nodded understandingly. "Neither I nor my family is in great favor with your people. This is well-known to me."
Now it was Linnaew's turn to blink in surprise. "You are… you are Elrond? Elrohir's…"
"Yes, that is Elrohir's father. Continue with your story, please." Thranduil's mood was obviously improving as the ginger soothed his nausea, and Elrond quietly pocketed the yellow linen pouch. No doubt he would need to prepare another supply by the time this journey was over.
"As I was saying, my father did not approve of the match, although I am old enough to know my own mind. He had his man force me to pack my belongings and was getting ready to send me inland, to stay with relatives; and I fear he would try to arrange a marriage for me with Minaringwë." Her face folded in disgust.
Much of Elrond's ire began to evaporate. "Surely he…"
Thranduil was plainly nonplussed. "He would ask you to bind yourself to one whom you did not love?" The green eyes caught Elrond's gaze. "I did not think such things happened among the Edhil."
"You should ask Glorfindel of the practices in his homeland," Elrond replied tiredly, and then turned back to Linnaew. "Obviously you did not accompany your father's man inland."
She shook her head. "He tried to lock me in my room the night before I was to leave, but I…" She bowed her head and blushed. "I dressed myself in some of my brother's old clothes that I normally used to work in the gardens, and then climbed from my balcony. I fell in with a group of merchants traveling to Alqualondë and fetched firewood and water for the group as my way of paying for the protection. Once I arrived, I roamed the docks until I heard of the ships belonging to the Peredhil's Folly, hid myself nearby, waited until everyone seemed to have gone home in the night, and then ran up the first ramp I could find and hid down below." She sniffled and then straightened, looking Elrond in the eye without flinching. "I was hoping that I could stay undetected until you were far enough away that you would not consider putting back to Alqualondë."
Elrond gazed at Thranduil, who looked anything but pleased with the development. "What do we do?" he asked the soon-to-be-ruler of Avathar. "Do we take her back?"
"I am tempted," Thranduil began gruffly, but his demeanor softened as a stricken look spread across the young woman's face. "But I do not condone a parent attempting to force a child into a loveless relationship out of prejudice. No truly loving parent would ever do such a thing."
"You don't know my father," Linnaew's voice was bitter. "He has previously used marriage between his House and those of Houses he wished closer ties in order to pave his way into the court. My two sisters…"
"If it becomes known in Eldamar that she travels with us," Galion said quietly and soberly, "we may be accused of kidnapping by those who would stop at nothing to confound us."
Elrond shook his head. "Not when the particulars are revealed. Astaron, while he has been quite outspoken against our enterprise, knows better than to make accusations that he cannot prove. If nothing else, he will find himself pitted against my mother-in-law and her family; and his insistence in the matter might cost him his place at court."
"Please. I just want to be with Elrohir." Linnaew looked around her for the first time as if studying the faces of all she could see. "Where is he?"
"Over there." Elrond pointed over the side of the ship at the closest fishing vessel, the square sail proudly bearing the device of the owner's House. "He sails on the Olgalad." At last he sighed. "And there he will stay, while you must join the other ladies on the Aearwing."
"What?" Linnaew's lips began to tremble. "But I can defend myself - I can make myself useful…"
Thranduil's smile was lopsided and a little bittersweet. "I have heard this same argument before not so very long ago myself, but this is a decision that was made with the welfare of all in mind, young lady. Galion, signal the captain of the Aearwing to draw alongside, so we can transfer our stowaway to a more appropriate berth." His jaw worked as he toyed with the slip of ginger that was still in his mouth. "You will find that you will have good company there, young lady. My wife, and that of another of our number, sail on that ship for much the same reason you find yourself here now. We will notify Elrohir of your presence among us; I would imagine he will want to speak to you, when circumstances permit and an opportunity presents itself."
Elrond could tell that Linnaew wasn't happy with the arrangements, but he knew that putting back to Alqualondë was out of the question for more than just one reason. "Be content that you have won your place in our group, girl," he reasoned as he studied this woman that had evidently captured the heart of one of his sons. "Olórin sails on the Aearwing; I will have you in his keeping until we figure things out later. Having an unwed maiden on this trek is an unforeseen complication."
"I am sorry," Linnaew sighed. "If I knew I could have reasoned with my father, I would have done as Elrohir wanted: I would have taken refuge with the Lady Celebrían to wait until he sent for me. But my father…" She looked up at Elrond in sudden horror. "I have made it harder for those left behind, have I not?"
Galion stepped forward and put his arm around her. "I doubt your vanishing will help matters much, but neither will it be disastrous. Come along now - do you have any belonging still below?" He cast a glance over his shoulder at Elrond and Thranduil that assured them that he would handle the girl until she was safely on the Aearwing.
"What was that you gave me?" Thranduil asked as if on second thought. "It helped remarkably well."
Elrond shook himself to bring himself back to the matter at hand. "Sugared ginger," he replied, patting his pocket, "and I have enough to hopefully keep you less green around the edges for the time being. I need to find someone with access to some leather or spare material, however; there is another thing I wish you to wear that should make even the need for the ginger decrease."
"Anything so that I do not end up as I did on the journey to Aman," Thranduil stated earnestly. "Galion already will not let me live down the tale of our voyage; I shudder to think what he would do with reason to elaborate further."
Elvish Vocabulary (Sindarin unless otherwise noted)
Aeardelien - Sea Sport - a transport vessel
Aearwing - Sea Spray - a fishing vessel
Bannoth - Mandos
Belain - the Powers, the Valar
Epessë - nickname (Q)
Gwaelaer - Windsong - a transport vessel
Naur ar nuath - fire and shadow (an expletive)
nuath -shadow (an expletive)
Olgalad - Glittering Dream - a fishing vessel
Círdan looked about the office. Very little of any real consequence was left for Aglaron to winnow through after the expedition's departure: a few maps, and a tally sheet for the massive amounts of supplies bought and paid for by either the House of the Peredhil, Thranduil himself, or a sizeable donation from Celeborn and his Galadhren warriors. It had been agreed that the share of expenses to be born by the Falathrim would be counted in the existence of the Aeardelien and the Gwaelaer for use by the expedition and/or Thranduil after the establishment of the first settlement in Avathar. But Aglaron needn't know that. Círdan smiled and decided not to destroy the tally sheet of supplies after all, for it showed the dedication and willingness of several usually exclusive groups to pool resources, something that was a trait born of necessity in Ennor and only now resurrected in Aman.
Unable to sleep and unwilling to leave to the very end those little niggling tasks that could inevitably delay the first steps of any venture, he had spent the nighttime hours destroying documents that either Aglaron would not need or which pertained only to the motley group that had gathered in Alqualondë. Few of the Felessril that had followed him here would be remaining behind; and of those, most were family members of those who had already joined their cause and only waited an established settlement before following. Elrond and his wife had graciously opened their estate to those who would not be going on this initial voyage, but would be joining their loved ones at a later date. Aglaron and his cronies would swoop in to find the rented shipyard here virtually unmanned and the shipwrights' yards without supplies or tools of any kind - and with Telerin leaseholders more than ready to reclaim the property once more.
So late was the hour, he was not expecting the soft knock on the office door. Blinking back surprise, he moved to open it, and then took a step backwards in utter shock. "You!"
"May I enter?" a soft and melodic voice asked hesitantly.
He gestured his invitation, and his late-night visitor moved into the room. Círdan closed the door and pointed to the utilitarian wooden chair, clearly instructing his guest to be seated, and then sat down himself behind the now-clear desk. "To say that I am surprised to see you here now would be an understatement," he began, his eyes taking in the simple garb and quiescent attitude of the one before him. "Given that the coming day is of great importance to me, however, I would wonder what brought you now?"
"I would beg admittance to your party, my Lord, as a simple warrior." The smooth tones and well born accent hadn't changed at all, and Círdan could hear traces of other voices that had been long silenced in it. "My term of service with the Telerrim mandated by the Belain is just recently concluded, and I only today arrived here."
"I am shocked that you were even allowed past the city guard," Círdan commented honestly.
"I have been allowed admittance here several times, on the bidding of those whose orders I served at the time," was the response, in wry tones that told a great deal without adding a single word. "I suspect that I was allowed entrance because the guard believed me still so obliged."
"You are aware of what we intend - and where we are going?"
"I have sought out all such information for the better part of the last year, from the moment the first rumors began to circulate. The hope that I would be released from service in time to join your party before you departed was all that made the very end of a long and humiliating term of service bearable." The grey eyes that gazed back at him were tired, and yet seemed to dare Círdan to strike a light of purpose in them again. "You go to forge a new realm, and I would go to forge a new destiny for myself."
"You believe that you might be able to escape the bonds of memory, Maglor? I tell you that this may not come to pass. Elrond himself sails with us…"
"Which is why I ask not to be included with the Lords in charge of the effort, but merely to be allowed to lend my sword to their protection. I have no desire to call attention to myself…"
"Few there are who have not at least heard of you, " Círdan warned. "And word of your admittance will carry, even unto Elrond eventually. No doubt, he will want to know why you have avoided speaking to him directly."
"He does not need reminders of a past that is quite painful," Maglor said gently. "And I would not add to his burdens. Should he ask you, tell him that, if you will; and when the time comes, if it comes, then I will deal with him directly. Until then, all I ask is a warrior's berth and a chance to lend my strengths and skills to your cause."
"Then again," Círdan pondered aloud, "having one with your skills in music could be quite beneficial in maintaining morale among…"
"I own no harp," Maglor stated flatly. "I have no more songs to sing. I came home only at Ulmo's insistence, and I threw my harp overboard the moment I knew it to be irretrievable. The Telir had no use for my songs anyway - not that I blame them - and I have no desire to revisit the man I was… before."
Cirdan grimaced. The news of Maglor's arrival in the Undying Lands had come only a very few decades after Legolas' return; and then the pronouncement of his doom had rocked the entire Elven population: to spend three long-years as menial servant to those who had been harmed the most in the execution of his father's Oath, doing whatever they asked of him without question or complaint or redress. In all that time, Círdan had believed that the musician son of Fëanor had at least had the solace of song; but now, looking at the very mien of the man, he could see that Maglor was at last beaten down.
"How long since last you wielded your sword?" he was forced to ask. Glorfindel would no doubt want to know. That brought on another grimace; he'd have to inform several others who would no doubt be less than pleased at this late development.
"A very long time," Maglor admitted, "but such skills will not take much honing to bring back." He held up his scarred hands. "They are not pretty to look at, and they no longer create beauty, but they still know the work of a warrior."
"Of that, I have no doubt. Finally, however, I must ask this: are you willing to give your oath of allegiance to Thranduil Oropherion, at least for the duration of this expedition? He it is that seeks to lay claim to Avathar and rule whatever settlement arises." Círdan's gaze grew sharp. "Can you bow down to a Tawarel?"
"I have a great deal of practice bowing down to others now," came the bitter reply. "But to answer your question, I would have no trouble at all bowing before and swearing loyalty to Thranduil. I have no quarrel with him or his people, and so no reason to refuse. If he proves as good a leader now as the stories have made him in Ennor, I would be proud to serve him."
"You realize that I must bring your request to at least Thranduil himself before giving you a final answer?"
Maglor nodded his head. "I had heard that today was the day you intended to depart. I would imagine that Thranduil will not be hard to find; and I shall not leave the docks until I have either been admitted or refused. With any luck, he will find no reason for rancor and will not deny my petition."
"Very well." Círdan's face softened slightly. "When was the last time you ate?"
"I do not hunger much anymore," Maglor began, and then let a rueful expression wash over him. "But I will not refuse if something is offered me."
"Then come." The light through the windows indicated that the dawn was almost upon them. "I am supposed to meet my second at the inn at first light. At the very least, you can have a decent meal and tell me of your time with the Telir."
Maglor gave him a sharp look, but then hunched his shoulders and nodded. "As you wish."
Yes, Círdan promised himself, he would seek out others to tell them of this unexpected addition to their group. Maglor would bear watching; this beaten, defeated elf was not what anyone would expect of a Fëanorion. What had happened to him? Círdan wasn't entirely certain he wanted to know.
oOoOo
As warm and as comfortable as he was, Thranduil knew that the time had come for him to rise. He carefully dropped a kiss on the top of Laeriel's head resting so close to his on the pillow and kept his movements slow and careful so as not to shift the mattress too much. Their last night together for a very long time had been tender and still tearful, and neither of them had gotten much sleep. Already he could tell that the dawn would arrive soon, and he had a last bit of packing to take care of before he wanted to face the distress of their actual farewell.
"Has the day come already?" The sleep-slowed mumble made him freeze for a moment, and then slump before turning back to her.
"I did not mean to awaken you," he apologized and framed her face with a hand. "There is time yet; doze for a while more."
"No." She stirred and propped herself up on her elbows to look at him through the errant wisps of golden hair that had escaped her evening braid. "The moments are too precious to waste in slumber."
Thranduil stretched and caught at her lips in a sweet kiss, the kind of kiss that he had so missed for so long. Even now he had to pinch himself sometimes to remember that such things were no longer only dreams. "I have but a bit more to pack," he offered with smile that hinted at interest in something far more pleasurable. "We could…"
"Thranduil." He almost laughed at the expression on her face.
"It was just a thought…"
Her hand was as gentle on his face as his had been on hers. "What I meant to say was," she began again, "I have quite a bit to do, and very little time to do it in. I really should get to it." She pushed herself to sitting full upright and twisted to put her feet off the bed.
Thranduil looked around their room at the inn. He'd been frankly astonished at the amount of luggage that Laeriel had brought with her. "You've barely unpacked, my love. You need only…"
"I had no intentions of unpacking much during our stay here." Laeriel was on her feet at almost the same moment Thranduil was. "I'll just get dressed and finish putting away the clothing I was wearing yesterday, so that you can help me carry my bundles to the ship."
He turned abruptly, all humor and amorous thoughts evaporated. "What do you mean? I am not carrying your anything to the ship. You are going home to Eryn Dithen…"
"I am not going back to Eryn Dithen. I am going with you," she stated firmly but gently. She turned to face him as her gown cleared her face. "Do not stare at me like I were one of those spiders from back home."
"You have said nothing of this before…"
Laeriel nodded calmly and folded her sleeping gown. "I know better."
"No. You are not going, and that is final." Thranduil shook his head and scowled at her. "This is not going to be a pleasure trip, Laeriel. None of us has any idea what we're going to be facing. Such a place is not safe…"
"Do you think I am not aware of that? Really, after you and Legolas told me what you were going to be up to, did you think I would just calmly sit back down to wait - again - for you to either return to me through Bannoth's Halls or send for me like forgotten luggage?" She refastened the leather straps that held the clothing bundle closed and studied the other bundles that lay arranged on the chest. "I suppose that I could carry it all, if you are unwilling."
The fact that her voice had stayed calm and rational was infuriating - as was the fact that he dared not thunder at her as he would have at home for fear of awakening the other guests in the inn. Oh, he had to admire her sense of timing, and admit that he had forgotten in the many long-years they had been apart that she was more than capable of taking advantage of any circumstance and using it against him. "This is neither the time nor the place…"
"There is no more time, and this is the only place we shall have to discuss this before it is time to cast off," she replied, "unless you wish to argue in front of everyone at the docks."
"Laeriel, there is a good chance there will be spiders there…"
"I know, husband." She was undoing the braid that had held her hair through the night. "I believe it was I who yet again mentioned that rumor abounds of Ungoliant's spawn being plentiful there long ago, when we last discussed this." Her fingers pulled through the long, golden fall and then began rebraiding it. "If you can face them for almost an Age, then I can do no less."
Thranduil snorted his frustration as he forced himself to finish his own packing. "This is not going to be a place for women…"
She threw her braid over her shoulder, her own ire beginning to show. "But I heard you and Legolas speaking of those of Círdan's folk who have joined in this venture not three weeks ago. He was telling you that Círdan had not prevented entire families from packing onto those fishing vessels that had joined in your caravan. If a fish monger's wife can come…"
"That is different. You…"
"Am I so delicate that I cannot still give our son decent competition at the practice range?"
Thranduil sighed. That wretched tournament! "I did not say that…"
"Do you believe that…"
"Laeriel!" He tossed down his bundle on the bed and caught his wife up in his arms. "My love! I want to keep you safe - and from spiders especially!"
"You will keep me safe," she replied in a tone of utter conviction, "for the same reason you will keep the fish monger's wife safe." She moved in his arms so that she could look him in the eye. "I know you, Thranduil Oropherion, and I know what I have heard of you from those who remained with you for long after I was gone. You were a good King, and took good care of your people."
Thranduil sighed again. He wanted so desperately to make certain that he would never have to watch her suffer as she had from that spider bite centuries ago, something that he would have to dread again if she got her way. "I cannot bear to think…"
"And I cannot either," she whispered, her lips brushing his cheek right at the corner of his mouth. "Can you not understand this? I have waited for you for so long, and I cannot be asked to sit and wait again. If we are together, we can take care of each other." He opened his mouth to respond, only to find her fingers covering his lips. "Listen to me. If you leave me behind, Thranduil, I will worry. I only barely managed to avoid needing to spend time in Lórien the last time we were apart with me waiting in Aman." The way her eyes filled with tears tore at his heart. "I do not want to go through that agony again. Please."
"And I do not wish to go through the agony of watching you perish from a spider's venom again," he managed finally, just as emotional as she was. "Please!"
"I will not place myself in danger; this I swear to you." Laeriel laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms about him tightly. "We had no idea that there were spiders in the Greenwood when I was bit, but this time we are forewarned and already cautious; and our warriors well-practiced in the art of battling them. The situation is changed."
Thranduil held her tightly, his eyes slammed shut in wishful denial. Her reasoning was sounder than he'd considered, and he knew better than to demand she obey him. The last thing he wanted to remember of her was her scorn; and the last thing he wanted to have to face on the entire voyage was her defiance. "You are not going to let me win this one, are you?" he asked finally in resignation.
"No," she replied gently, "not this time. Maybe the next one."
Finally he set her away from him. "I will agree to this under one condition: you will do as I ask, or as Glorfindel asks. He is my appointed commander of warriors; if he senses danger and wants you to remain in a safe location, you will obey without question."
"I am not a fool," she replied tersely. "I will not endanger myself unnecessarily. Of course, if you or Glorfindel insist on something for all the families involved, I will obey."
Again his eyes closed as he prepared to do something completely against his better judgment, certain that the moment would come when he would deeply regret it. "Very well, then. Where is your bow, your quiver?"
Laeriel looked down as if chagrined. "I sent it ahead to this inn weeks ago, asking the innkeeper to keep it for me against my arrival. We have only to ask downstairs."
Thranduil shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Take me with you," she replied immediately, "and have your family with you as you make a new life for us all." She glanced at the window. "The sun already paints the clouds. We should be breaking our fast and preparing to leave."
"You get to explain this to your son," he told her as he reached for his own bundle and the bulkiest of hers. "And I do not promise that the arguments that worked with me will work with him."
"You might be surprised," she smiled back at him, her good humor restored.
oOoOo
"So, I will not be aboard the same ship as you? Where will I be?"
Gildor patted the hand of his wife comfortingly. "When I told Thranduil of your insistence on accompanying me, his first thought was to deny you entirely." He patted Faerlinn's hand more firmly to forestay the complaint that was already forming on her lips. "But I prevailed on him, and he agreed that you could indeed sail, but only if you berthed on one of the fishing vessels that accompany us. There are already women and children on board those ships; and you would be safer there."
His eyes studied the graceful lines of the two larger ships, and then slid down the dock to where the three fishing vessels were berthed. The smaller ships were far less ornamental, as their purpose was a completely practical one, but they were not without grace. Thranduil's concerns were well met by the inclusion of these fisher-folk, and he was just as glad of the past and future monarch's decision.
"I would be safer with you," Faerlinn frowned, "but I will do as he says. No doubt he has his reasons."
Gildor breathed out an inaudible sigh of relief. Faerlinn had been by his side for the better part of two Ages of the world in Ennor, and all the while they had wandered Aman since arriving. It would be very strange not to know the peace of her being beside him for the length of time it would take before the future settlement was deemed safe enough to allow the women and children ashore. Then he resumed looking about the docks. "But where is Maenol? Was he not supposed to break his fast with us this morning? I have never known him to be so tardy at a meal!"
Faerlinn chuckled. "Your son is as eager to begin this new adventure as you are, my husband. He begged me to give you his regrets, but he would be up long before dawn to assist Glorfindel in assigning berths to the warriors as they boarded. He has become fast friends with the Peredhil - and with Thranduilion, of late. Already, it seems, he stands in a position of command, having been given charge of one squadron of warriors."
"And when did you learn this?" he gaped. He prided himself on being current with all of the latest developments in the venture; it was a little humbling to hear such important news from his wife.
"Yesterday, while you were in conference with Círdan and Thranduil and the Peredhil. I spent some time in the markets, purchasing things that we all will appreciate when we are far from our regular markets, and I spoke to him when I came upon him with Elrohir, doing much the same thing." She smiled proudly. "It was good to see him with others who share his past and experiences."
"I have hopes that this will be a good choice for all of us," Gildor nodded. "And I have no fears for those of our people who remain behind in Eldamar either. I spoke to Nóruithor, and he intends to continue the same route and schedule as we have been keeping."
She nodded. "That will give some continuity, both to those who wander and to those who normally await our arrival. Gildor?" Faerlinn pulled her husband to a near halt. "Wait - isn't that Thranduil - and isn't that his wife with him?"
"It is," he replied slowly, "and our erstwhile King of Avathar seems a bit more burdened than one would think he would be. Come." And now it was his turn to pull at his wife, this time to step lively. "Thranduil!"
Two golden heads turned at the call. Thranduil spoke softly to the woman on his arm, and together they turned and waited for Gildor and his wife to join them. "This is a bit of good luck," Thranduil said with a look of relief on his face. "I was just beginning to explain to Laeriel why she was going to have to be assigned a berth on one of the…"
"Oh!" Faerlinn's face broke into a wide smile. "Laeriel has decided to join you?" She turned to Gildor. "Now I shall not be discontent any longer. I at least will have someone I know on board with me."
Laeriel blinked. "You are traveling to Avathar as well?" Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at her husband. "Someone neglected to tell me that I was not the only woman other than the wives of Círdan's fisher folk."
Gildor met Thranduil's gaze and decided to take pity on the man. "In truth, Lady, I am surprised that your husband has been able to keep all the details he has been required to handle in his head. I mentioned Faerlinn's request to him only in passing." He had to work to stifle the smile that threatened when Thranduil merely closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.
In the time that small exchange took place, Gildor felt his wife pull her hand from his keeping and surround the shoulders of the more slender woman. "We should let the men talk, my dear," she advised, her dark hair a stunning contrast to Laeriel's. "Which of the three…?" She pointed down the dock.
"You there!" Thranduil called to one of the sailors on the deck of the Aeardelien. "Would you please take charge of these bundles and see them to the Aearwing? Escort the ladies on board as well, and see them settled."
The sailor immediately bowed. "It would be my pleasure, my Lord." He executed a graceful leap to the dock and hurried over. "Allow me." Within a few moments, he had taken all of the bundles that Thranduil was willing to turn over to him, as well as having relieved Gildor of a few. "My Ladies, the Aearwing is the middle of the smaller ships. Come this way…"
Both women gave quick kisses to their spouses before hurrying to catch up again with their guide.
"I thought you were going to have her stay with Celebrían until later," Gildor asked, his tone shifting to one of faint amusement.
Thranduil looked pained. "As did I, but Laeriel herself had an altogether different idea, which she sprang on me only this morning, when I was in no place or position to argue effectively."
"Did I just see both of your two ladies being taken down the docks to the fishing ships?" Círdan asked, coming up behind them. "I knew of your lady, Gildor, but Thran…"
"Do not ask," Thranduil sighed and then straightened. "Now, is all arranged, and we are ready to sail as soon as we know all have arrived?"
"I have had an unexpected request to join our enterprise," Círdan said, rubbing his beard in a way that told Gildor of his disquiet. "A late arrival begs to be allowed to join his sword and destiny to ours."
"Someone we know?" Gildor inquired carefully.
"In passing, if not in fact." The mariner turned to Thranduil. "Maglor Fëanorion requests permission to join our forces as a simple swordsman. He says he is willing to swear loyalty to you and serve your will."
"Maglor!" Thranduil's eyes widened. "Have you told Elrond of…"
Círdan shook his head. "No. And to be honest, I can appreciate Maglor's wish to keep a low profile - as well as his wish to distance himself from all the bad memories this place surely holds for him. He has assured me that if and when it becomes necessary, he will speak to Elrond himself."
"What about his term of obligation to the Telerrim? The Belain…"
"He says that he was just released from that service, and that he hurried to get here before we could leave."
Gildor watched Thranduil cross his arms over his chest and narrow his eyes, sure signs that the wood Elf was contemplating potential problems. He'd seen that same pose often of late, and never had the discussion it presaged been unproductive. "If he is looking to compete…"
Again Círdan shook his head. "No. I have no doubts that that is not on his mind." He motioned to the others and drew them slightly away from the press of people seeking their assigned vessels and bidding family farewell. "I think that these last long-years under the Telerren thumb have not been kind ones. He claims to no longer sing or wish to in any way resume any of the traits he once was best-known for. I honestly think that, if left to his own, he would never have left Ennor at all." He scowled. "If the purpose of the Belain in handing him over to the Telerrim was to deprive him of his pride, they succeeded beyond their dreams. Thranduil, the man is beaten."
"Still… once it is known that a man named Maglor Fëanárion is aboard…" Thranduil began again, shaking his head slightly. "Even I will have to work around my memories of Menegroth, and the knowledge of what he wrought there with his brothers."
Gildor put a calming hand on the taut upper arm. "Do we not all wish to distance ourselves from those whose memories are too long and too judgmental? Is it all that surprising that he would seek to do the same?" Thranduil gazed long at him, obviously torn, then nodded reluctantly. Gildor smiled. "Then we give him a chance at a new start in life by allowing him to leave his old life completely behind. Let him choose an epessë by which he can be known to his new comrades in arms. And watch as he is introduced, to see if any recognize him or seem to suspect."
Thranduil turned calculating green eyes on him. "You sound as if you are in favor of granting him his request."
"What could it hurt?" Gildor shrugged. "We all know that we will be able to use each and every willing warrior. And we are a small enough contingent that it will be easy to keep an eye on his comings and goings and musings. If he causes any problems at all, we can send him back on the ship when we return for those we left behind."
"I too would speak in favor of his inclusion," Círdan added in a slow and thoughtful tone. "Gildor is right: we all seek to craft new destinies for ourselves and our peoples. And in doing so, should we deny the opportunity to do exactly that to one whose past is indeed a heavy burden?"
"He would have to swear loyalty…" Thranduil began.
"I have already broached that topic with him, and he finds no reason not to swear fealty to you," Círdan spoke quickly.
Thranduil sighed. "Where is he, then, that we can accomplish this and move forward before the day is completely spent?"
"I left him in the inn where I met with Arnon to run over last minute details, telling him that if his offer was acceptable, I would fetch him." Círdan gestured for Thranduil to accompany him. "Truth be told, from his expression as I left the table, he fully expects to look out the window and see our ships all under full sail and him still on dry land."
"Who expects to be left behind?" Olórin made his way over to the trio through the crowd, which seemed to part for him without any effort at all.
"Gildor, would you bring our late-arriving friend up to date while I take care of… formalities?" Thranduil asked with an impatient wave of the hand. "Come, Círdan, as I said, I would like to move forward before the day is spent."
Gildor turned to the Maia with a crooked smile. "It seems we have a new warrior to outfit and berth, one Maglor Fëanárion."
But he was not prepared for the way Olórin threw his head back and guffawed loudly and heartily. "Do we now?" he chortled when he recovered himself sufficiently. "Do we indeed?"
oOoOo
Elrond turned away from the sight of the port of Alqualondë once it was no longer possible to make out the faces of any of the people who lined the docks to either gawk or bid farewell. Celebrían, he knew, was among them; he had held her face in his sights for as long as he could. But, at last, it was time to look forward. And for the first time in a very long time, he genuinely looked forward to the unknown and the challenges it would present.
A muffled guffaw sounded from behind him, and he turned to see Galion gazing with amusement at Thranduil as the latter looked out to sea. Galion noted that he was being observed, and then tipped his head to lead Elrond's glance over to the tall, golden-haired Elf beside him. Elrond stifled the urge to chuckle himself, and instead moved to Thranduil's side to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Not a sailor, I take it?"
"Naur ar nuath! I swore I would never board another vessel heading to sea," Thranduil groaned. "I should have listened to myself; or rather, I should have remembered my promise to myself and the reason behind it when Legolas suggested this."
"You should have seen him on the way to Aman," Galion chuckled, making Thranduil groan yet again. "He was green the moment we got beyond the breakwater at Mithlond, but once we crossed the veil between the Belegaer and the Straight Road…"
"Galion, if you go any further into that tale, I shall have you digging latrines for the settlement until I get tired!" The deep voice sounded miserable and ominous.
Elrond deliberately ignored Galion to tighten his hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "That bad?" he asked comfortingly.
"I do not anticipate either enjoying the scenery or being in a good mood until I am back on dry, unmoving land again."
"Nonsense. I have something that should help make the journey far more tolerable." Elrond patted Thranduil's back and headed for the hatch that led below deck. "I shall be right back."
Since there was limited space on board the Aeardelien, much of Elrond's healer's gear had been stored down in the hold with the rest of the supplies - although placed for easy access. The darkness was no obstacle, for he had insisted that his bag be hung from a peg on the post at the very bottom of the stairs. He had just got a good grip on it when a wave made the ship roll slightly, and he could hear some of the supplies that hadn't been tied down shift.
He also heard a very soft, "Ow!" from somewhere to the right and halfway down the length of the hull.
"Who's there?" he asked in concern. To the best of his knowledge, all of the men - warriors, sailors and nobles alike - were still on deck, many watching the shoreline slip slowly past. The voyage had barely started; there was no reason for anyone to be down here besides him.
Unless…
Two days before, Finwë had sent a message detailing a rumor that had been circulating in Tirion, regarding some disgruntled men possibly seeking to sabotage the venture. The idea that so many would be so eager to abandon Eldamar had not settled well, especially in the lower classes of Calaquendi; with overtones of some of the religious extremists teaching that any desire to leave being tantamount to heresy against the Belain. Even a declaration from Finwë himself, stating that the Belain themselves had not prohibited but actually given permission for the venture, had done little to quell the unrest.
Was one of those here, on the ship?
Elrond's hand sought his dagger. "Come now," he called out tersely. "Do not think that I will not send down a squad of warriors to flush you out!"
Was that a soft moan he heard? Then: "Do not send for warriors. I will come - if I can get out from behind this…" There was a grunt, the sound of something hitting the wood decking.
Elrond's frown grew deeper as the voice resolved itself into a more feminine tone. "Who is it?"
"Me." A shadow loomed in the darkness that faltered as if tripping over obstacles, and then a vaguely familiar face appeared at his right hand.
"A woman?!" Elrond gaped. "What in the name of all the Belain are you doing…"
"Please!" Her hand caught at his arm like a claw and hung on tightly. "Please do not take me back! I want to be with…"
Frowning again, both at her gender and at her obvious Midhren-accented Sindarin, he caught at her arm and pulled her up the stairs with him, and then again onto the deck. "This is no place for women! What were you thinking?"
"Who is this?" Thranduil demanded angrily. "And I thought we all agreed that the women would all stay onboard the…"
"Your name, child," Elrond began.
"Elrohir calls me Linnaew; that is my name now!" she declared proudly, her chin lifted in defiance.
Elrond's lips quirked as he restrained a smile. He remembered his unmarried son speaking of his dallying with a Midhren girl now, and noting that Elrohir had begun to sound quite serious about the relationship. Oh, Elrohir, my son! This one will give you a run for the prize! "My apologies, my dear. I know you now; my son has spoken often of you. Thranduil, this is Linnaew Astaroniel, a young lady that Elrohir has been courting…"
"We are betrothed," Linnaew announced proudly, her chin lifting just a bit higher.
Elrond blinked at her in surprise. "Elrohir has said nothing of this to me…"
"But what is she doing here!" Thranduil bellowed, and then covered his forehead and eyes with a hand. "Nuath! I had best not do that again…"
"Here." Elrond dug in the leather bag until he found the yellow linen pouch that held the bits of sugared ginger. He handed one small piece to the ailing wood-elf. "Suck on this for a while, it should help. I shall craft you a more permanent aid momentarily. However…" He drew himself to his full height and looked down on an obviously disguised Linnaew. "…I am waiting, as is King Thranduil, for an explanation, young woman."
Linnaew looked over at the golden-haired man, who glared at her with tired-looking green eyes, with some fear. "K…king Thranduil? Who?"
"Just tell us your story, girl," Galion stepped forward, his calm in marked contrast to the surprise and ire of the others.
"Elrohir and I had decided that we would wed," Linnaew aimed her remarks at the much kinder-faced of the three, "but my father does not approve. We are Minil, and most of us…"
Elrond nodded understandingly. "Neither I nor my family is in great favor with your people. This is well-known to me."
Now it was Linnaew's turn to blink in surprise. "You are… you are Elrond? Elrohir's…"
"Yes, that is Elrohir's father. Continue with your story, please." Thranduil's mood was obviously improving as the ginger soothed his nausea, and Elrond quietly pocketed the yellow linen pouch. No doubt he would need to prepare another supply by the time this journey was over.
"As I was saying, my father did not approve of the match, although I am old enough to know my own mind. He had his man force me to pack my belongings and was getting ready to send me inland, to stay with relatives; and I fear he would try to arrange a marriage for me with Minaringwë." Her face folded in disgust.
Much of Elrond's ire began to evaporate. "Surely he…"
Thranduil was plainly nonplussed. "He would ask you to bind yourself to one whom you did not love?" The green eyes caught Elrond's gaze. "I did not think such things happened among the Edhil."
"You should ask Glorfindel of the practices in his homeland," Elrond replied tiredly, and then turned back to Linnaew. "Obviously you did not accompany your father's man inland."
She shook her head. "He tried to lock me in my room the night before I was to leave, but I…" She bowed her head and blushed. "I dressed myself in some of my brother's old clothes that I normally used to work in the gardens, and then climbed from my balcony. I fell in with a group of merchants traveling to Alqualondë and fetched firewood and water for the group as my way of paying for the protection. Once I arrived, I roamed the docks until I heard of the ships belonging to the Peredhil's Folly, hid myself nearby, waited until everyone seemed to have gone home in the night, and then ran up the first ramp I could find and hid down below." She sniffled and then straightened, looking Elrond in the eye without flinching. "I was hoping that I could stay undetected until you were far enough away that you would not consider putting back to Alqualondë."
Elrond gazed at Thranduil, who looked anything but pleased with the development. "What do we do?" he asked the soon-to-be-ruler of Avathar. "Do we take her back?"
"I am tempted," Thranduil began gruffly, but his demeanor softened as a stricken look spread across the young woman's face. "But I do not condone a parent attempting to force a child into a loveless relationship out of prejudice. No truly loving parent would ever do such a thing."
"You don't know my father," Linnaew's voice was bitter. "He has previously used marriage between his House and those of Houses he wished closer ties in order to pave his way into the court. My two sisters…"
"If it becomes known in Eldamar that she travels with us," Galion said quietly and soberly, "we may be accused of kidnapping by those who would stop at nothing to confound us."
Elrond shook his head. "Not when the particulars are revealed. Astaron, while he has been quite outspoken against our enterprise, knows better than to make accusations that he cannot prove. If nothing else, he will find himself pitted against my mother-in-law and her family; and his insistence in the matter might cost him his place at court."
"Please. I just want to be with Elrohir." Linnaew looked around her for the first time as if studying the faces of all she could see. "Where is he?"
"Over there." Elrond pointed over the side of the ship at the closest fishing vessel, the square sail proudly bearing the device of the owner's House. "He sails on the Olgalad." At last he sighed. "And there he will stay, while you must join the other ladies on the Aearwing."
"What?" Linnaew's lips began to tremble. "But I can defend myself - I can make myself useful…"
Thranduil's smile was lopsided and a little bittersweet. "I have heard this same argument before not so very long ago myself, but this is a decision that was made with the welfare of all in mind, young lady. Galion, signal the captain of the Aearwing to draw alongside, so we can transfer our stowaway to a more appropriate berth." His jaw worked as he toyed with the slip of ginger that was still in his mouth. "You will find that you will have good company there, young lady. My wife, and that of another of our number, sail on that ship for much the same reason you find yourself here now. We will notify Elrohir of your presence among us; I would imagine he will want to speak to you, when circumstances permit and an opportunity presents itself."
Elrond could tell that Linnaew wasn't happy with the arrangements, but he knew that putting back to Alqualondë was out of the question for more than just one reason. "Be content that you have won your place in our group, girl," he reasoned as he studied this woman that had evidently captured the heart of one of his sons. "Olórin sails on the Aearwing; I will have you in his keeping until we figure things out later. Having an unwed maiden on this trek is an unforeseen complication."
"I am sorry," Linnaew sighed. "If I knew I could have reasoned with my father, I would have done as Elrohir wanted: I would have taken refuge with the Lady Celebrían to wait until he sent for me. But my father…" She looked up at Elrond in sudden horror. "I have made it harder for those left behind, have I not?"
Galion stepped forward and put his arm around her. "I doubt your vanishing will help matters much, but neither will it be disastrous. Come along now - do you have any belonging still below?" He cast a glance over his shoulder at Elrond and Thranduil that assured them that he would handle the girl until she was safely on the Aearwing.
"What was that you gave me?" Thranduil asked as if on second thought. "It helped remarkably well."
Elrond shook himself to bring himself back to the matter at hand. "Sugared ginger," he replied, patting his pocket, "and I have enough to hopefully keep you less green around the edges for the time being. I need to find someone with access to some leather or spare material, however; there is another thing I wish you to wear that should make even the need for the ginger decrease."
"Anything so that I do not end up as I did on the journey to Aman," Thranduil stated earnestly. "Galion already will not let me live down the tale of our voyage; I shudder to think what he would do with reason to elaborate further."
Elvish Vocabulary (Sindarin unless otherwise noted)
Aeardelien - Sea Sport - a transport vessel
Aearwing - Sea Spray - a fishing vessel
Bannoth - Mandos
Belain - the Powers, the Valar
Epessë - nickname (Q)
Gwaelaer - Windsong - a transport vessel
Naur ar nuath - fire and shadow (an expletive)
nuath -shadow (an expletive)
Olgalad - Glittering Dream - a fishing vessel