Visitors Come to Court

[Valandil]

A story of early Arthedain, set a bit over one hundred years after Arnor was divided into Arthedain, Rhudaur and Cardolan - and about 2000 years prior to the events in "The Lord of the Rings"

[Valandil]

NOTE: See Page 2 of this thread for updated, improved chapters!

They moved as one – horse and man, for the rider had given his mount free rein to make his way down the slope, and shifted easily from side-to-side, or leaned forward or back, to best keep his balance and help the animal as it made its way along – now picking through difficult places, now dashing forward through clear spots. The trees were not so dense here, but between them the ground was mostly choked with grasses and weeds – all now yellow or brown or gray, dead or dying in the late autumn, but still thick about them. The falling sun, when it pierced the clouds overhead, lit up the remnants of the leaves on the trees – but even those colors were muted, rather than dazzling. The air was filled with the brittle sounds of breaking stalks and the hard footfalls and heavy breaths of the horse.

The horse was a large-boned, dapple gray stallion, and the mist of his breath in the crisp air mirrored the white of his mane and tail. The man was tall and slender and young. His hair was dark and his face intent, focused on something ahead. The short javelin he held in his right hand left little doubt that he was a hunter, in pursuit of prey. His dress seemed unfit for the season though, for he wore no hood or cloak or other coat to keep off the cold air – only a coarse woolen tunic of deep blue, over light gray leggings and undershirt, together with brown riding boots. But the insignia borne upon his tunic was that of the royal house of Arthedain, for the rider was a son of that house and his name was Celepharn.

As he rode he watched and listened. Above the noise of his own mount, now and again he would hear his prey crashing through the undergrowth ahead. Or he might see a glimpse of it darting through an open spot. Even without those, the broken path clearly marked the trail, but it was good to know that they were still close. It had been a long chase, and he was weary, but he would not weary to the point of halting. He would have this beast!

Just ahead now, he saw it charge across a longer opening – an opening that was clear for a good distance ahead of him, and which stretched across his path from left to right as far as he could see. The Great Road! He had come all the way to the Great East-West Road and would soon cross it to the south, even as his prey now did. He dug his heels in tighter, strained forward and held his spear aloft. The great horse, almost as if reading his thoughts, broke into a full gallop as the ground leveled, heedless of the branches and briars that slapped against him.

They were in the clearing now… through a small stream, breaking the thin ice which had formed on the top, then up a slight slope and over a low wall onto the road itself. In moments they would soon be across it, down the other side and into the thicket again. As he crested the road, the rider saw his prey in full view, just before it reached the undergrowth beyond, and marked where it went in.

But wait! What was that? Still on the road, Celepharn pulled back hard on the reins. “WHOA Donner!” he forced from his mouth. His horse, checked in mid-stride, first landed hard on its forelegs, then spun around and reared up before he could regain his control, so great had been his mount’s own desire to continue this chase – and so great its shock to have it abruptly broken off.

Celepharn turned his mount to face what had drawn his notice. Less than half a furlong away, to the right of his former direction, the west, were three travelers. Travelers were rare these days, especially along this stretch of road and in this season. The Hunt was great Sport and the Catch would bring great eating, but travelers, here and now, might be a matter of the Realm.

The travelers had seen him, of course, for how could they not notice first a great wild boar and then a mounted man pass so closely in front of them. They were walking, but each led a horse of his own. They had stopped at his passing, but as he now stood facing them, they resumed their approach. They were dressed alike, in gray cloaks and hoods, but seemed different from one another – at least the one in the middle did not quite match his companions. He was shorter than they, and seemed a little bit older and he walked with a staff. Their faces were in the shadow of their hoods, as the sun was behind them, but the middle one had a beard while the two tall ones had clean faces. Celepharn waited until they were close enough to speak easily, that he might also catch his breath and gather his wits about him before speaking.

“Halt, my good travelers. Whither are you now bound?”

The three stopped and looked first at Celepharn, then slowly from one to another, as if wondering who should speak for them. Celepharn tried to study their faces but could see little. The one to his left kept his demeanor steady and calm, the middle one seemed bewildered and the one on his right struggled to suppress a grin – were they up to some mischief, which this one could not contain?

Finally the middle one spoke up, smiling weakly as he did so; “Why – we are simply going about, from place to place… and seeking somewhere to lay our heads each evening. We did not expect to see such a… powerful rider… as yourself, in… these parts.”

This pricked Celepharn, for he was proud of his horsemanship and this fellow was evidently making a merry joke with his friends of his sudden wheeling about, here on the road. For in truth, Celepharn had felt in danger of falling when Donner had spun as he did.

“I can ride better than any man in all the kingdom of Arthedain!” he boasted. “What is more, I can run faster, swim farther and track more surely than any other, and only my father can surpass me at wrestling or with the sword!” He drew himself up as he spoke these words.

“Impressive indeed!” came the reply from the same who had spoken first. “But who… are you, to give us challenge and ask our… purpose? And who is this father, who alone can best you?”

“I am Celepharn, eldest son of my father Mallor – and he is eldest son and Heir to King Beleg of Arthedain, which land you now cross.”

“Oh… is it fit then, for a future king to ride alone? And to… declare himself so openly to those he knows not?”

Celepharn sat silent for a moment. This was not going well. He had managed to learn no more of this threesome, yet had told too much of himself. If they desired to make mischief, after all, what better chance than on a lonely stretch of road, with a three-to-one advantage on a son of Arthedain? Were they of Cardolan, and did they mean to start trouble with his grandfather’s realm, as well as that of Rhudaur? If they meant to make trouble, he had only one javelin – and his eket at his side, a short sword that was fine for finishing off any wounded prey, but hardly what he would choose to do battle with against three. He saw that the tall ones wore long swords of their own, beneath their cloaks – and that they had unstrung bows on their horses. Trouble might come, and he would be ready for it, but best to try to forestall it.

“It was needful that you know of my right to ask that which I ask. Tell me now… whither are you bound? And who are you?”

The older man laughed softly, and for a moment fear began to creep over Celepharn’s heart. He had begun to think the man witless, but wondered now if this was feigned to cover something more sinister. “Who … me? I am but a lonely pilgrim, seeking the warmth of fire and friends. These companions I have found who promise to take me to Imladris… Rivendell, it is also called. Do you know of the place?”

At the mention of Imladris, Celepharn looked to the speaker’s companions and perceived at last that those two were Elves, though the one speaking clearly was not. Still, all fear left him, and his heart leapt within him, for the Elves were long friends of his kingdom and his house.

“Imladris? Why yes, I know it… Pilgrim. I have been there before. Master Elrond there is exceeding wise, and what’s more, the tales told of the loveliness of his daughter are true, for I have met and spoken with her myself… even the Elves say that her glory is like that of Luthien of old… Yet Luthien chose Beren for herself in times of old, and of Beren am I descended…”

At this the Elf on his right broke out into a merry laugh. He pulled back his hood to show his face. Celepharn’s eyes grew wide with something akin to horror and then he blushed brightly. His mouth knotted up, but then he twisted it into a smile of his own, “Elrohir… thou villain! To stand thus quietly and give me no sign… you let my tongue speak from folly and pride! And this other with thee…” he said, indicating the Elf on the left, “thy brother Elladan, I presume?”

Elrohir replied, no longer laughing, but with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, “No, Elladan is away on another errand. This is a Lord of our House named Glorfindel. And have no shame in regards to thy words, for so are the young men among your people inclined to speak, and we delight in seeing you follow your own nature. Although, when thou art old and king, you will learn to keep your tongue in better check, as have all your fathers before you, although they had in their youth spoken even as you do now.”

“As for my sister…” Elrohir drew closer and spoke more softly and more gravely, “I do not think I can offer thee much hope, my friend, though I will not repeat your words to her, nor my father, nor even my brother, though they may guess your mind on it, as I had already done long ago. Yet these things come, and we Elves have learned not to take to heart the affections that you, our brothers, have for us at times. You would not be the first, among Men, to turn his heart to my sister. Yet each in his time, when the fruitlessness of his desire becomes clear, turns to one from among his own people… and all have become happy this way, when all is done.”

The pilgrim had hardly seemed to pay attention to the words between Celepharn and Elrohir, for he was gazing all about, as if trying to remember something. He had muttered only half-aloud, “Well now, something seems familiar about this place… as if something important will happen here. Only… where are the… people?”

Celepharn, more than grateful for the interruption, answered him, even though he had spoken as if to himself, “Our people still have a few farms here, though not so many as in times past, for here was before grown much of the food for the tables of the great city of Annuminas, which is almost 40 leagues due north of here. Most who dwelt herein have removed themselves closer to Fornost, or near the Crossroads by Bree.”

The pilgrim paused reflectively and added, “Well then, I should like to see your city of Annuminas if I may.”

At this Celepharn first looked puzzled and then laughed, “But Annuminas has been abandoned for well over one hundred years now! Her people were divided and scattered, then dwindled, until well nigh all that remained moved to Fornost. It was then that this place where we now stand began to grow wild once more.”

“Annuminas… abandoned?” said the pilgrim sadly, “Could you be so kind as to tell me, young man, the date as folk hereabout reckon it?”

“Certainly,” said Celepharn, surprised once more. “Tomorrow I am out of Fornost for a fortnight, so that today is the 28th day of Hithui, or November, as some men call the month, of the year 1004.”

“And the Heirs of Elendil who ruled at Annuminas… what is become of them?” asked the pilgrim, almost apprehensively.

Celepharn smiled slightly. “My grandfather is accounted the Heir of Elendil, for he is the tenth in the line after Isildur. I myself am of that line.”

The pilgrim gazed more closely at Celepharn and looked him up and down. “Yes… you would be now, wouldn’t you? You are a tall one I should say!”

“When I was a child, my mother thought that I should be as tall as Elendil, but it is not so, for it is said that he was nigh a half ranga over two, while I am just a bit more than a quarter-ranga above that mark.”

“But the House of Elendil is known for more than it’s height. The winter cold is growing and though the snows are late this year, they will not be missed much longer. It is a hard time to be on the road with a long journey. I bid you come to Fornost and enjoy the hospitality that Elendil’s descendants still share with others. You can then go on to Imladris when spring melts the coming winter snows.”

“Snow…?” said the Pilgrim, his mind seeming to drift.

The three companions then looked at one another as if deciding whether to accept. Celepharn wondered if they would come, for it was off their path by several days, and might delay them from their destination for three months or more. He even wondered why he had invited them, for it had only been a sudden impulse. But he had begun to warm to this strange pilgrim, and indeed wished to spend more time with him. And it was always good to see Elrohir.

“We accept,” said the pilgrim. “Now – would you kindly show us the way?”
Celepharn’s face became more serious. “I cannot take you myself, for I must return to my hunting party.” He looked once more to the south of the road, where he had last seen his former prey. “I shall return to them now, for the Black Boar has eluded me again.”

“Elrohir has been to Fornost before, I think, though not in my days. Nonetheless, continue on this road to the east another three days easy ride to the crossroads town of Bree. You will first pass the great Stonebows Bridge over Baranduin, which you will know, about 12 or 15 leagues east, I should say. Until then, you are in Arthedain, but from Stonebows to Bree, Arthedain is upon your left and the kingdom of Cardolan upon your right. Cardolan holds the town of Stonebows upon the east bank, but we have a small outpost of Arthedain on the hither side.”

“From Bree, another three or four days’ easy ride north will bring you to the very gates of Fornost, where the North-South Road ends. Tarry not, for the winter will come on swiftly now. I will go ahead by another way and make preparations for your arrival. For my hunting party, if they remain where I left them, are four or five leagues north of us, and off the better roads for travel.”

“Are your people at war with this… Cardolan?” asked the pilgrim.

“Not at war, but distrustful. Cardolan is at open war with Rhudaur and both are our sister kingdoms, ruled by cousins of my grandfather. But Cardolan is ever fearful that we will attack her. Although this fear is false, the very apprehension may mask their own desire in regard to us. Nonetheless, after Bree, you will be safely in Arthedain once more. And for now, Cardolan keeps the Peace of Amlaith and does not trouble wayfarers on the road. You may safely pass the night at any way station of either kingdom, but say not to those of Cardolan that you make for Fornost, lest you provoke suspicion.”

“Now – I have not enough light left to see me all the way back to my companions, yet perhaps I can find their campfire ere the dusk is too long departed. I must be away. We shall expect you at Fornost then. In a week.”

At that the three companions said their farewells and parted company with the young man, he turning and his horse cantered swiftly northward, back the way from which he they come, while the three mounted their horses and rode slowly eastward, in the same direction they had been going.

[Valandil]

NOTE: See Page 2 of this thread for updated, improved chapters!

The three travelers rode northward now, through a blinding world of white, for the winter snows had arrived. They bent their heads to turn their faces from the wind as their horses plodded along. They saw before them what must be the city and fortress of Fornost, although the blowing storm obscured the view. There was a plateau, said to be 60 rangar high, upon which the main part of the city was built. To the right, and a little behind, the plateau stepped up another 30 rangar, and it was in this quarter that the royal family of Arthedain made its abode, along with the other principal nobles of the realm. And from that upper plateau rose a tower, another 60 rangar in height, standing fully 150 rangar (about 475 feet / 145 meters) above the plain below.

On the south point of the main plateau was set a gate tower of stone, carved from that very face of stone and dressed smooth, for the full height of the plateau. The gate itself stood 20 rangar high, and only a fourth as wide, and above the gate were two tiers of four tall window slits. The road by which they approached now went due north, straight and true for the gate of the city. They saw that another road went nearly due west from a crossroads just one furlong in front of the city gate, for they could see a fire kept burning at those crossroads, with a single guard attending it, bundled in heavy garments against the cold. As they drew nearer, but still almost two furlongs away, he rose to await them.

“He’s a tall one,” said the Pilgrim.

“It is Celepharn,” replied Elrohir.

And it was Celepharn indeed. He was dressed much more suitably to the weather this time, topped off by a heavy cloak and hood of deep dark blue, which he pulled close against himself. And over all was a great white blanket of fur – the skin of a bear rumored only to dwell along the north coasts, a great distance away. He stood close to the fire, and at his back was a small tent. Soon they were upon him and he spoke to them first.

“Greetings, road-weary,” he began. “You are over-long in coming, for we first looked for you a week ago.”

“Yes we are,” replied Elrohir. “For we were detained – first by the desire of others and then by our own desire. But pray tell, does the King now have his own offspring serve as his guards and watchmen?”

“My grandfather the King is displeased with me, and I am sorry to say, it involves you, my guests.”

“Oh?” said the Pilgrim. “Why is this so?”

“It all concerns the Black Boar.” Answered Celepharn, and then he set himself to tell his tale.

“The Black Boar is a great beast – large as a horse – and long has it troubled our farmers and eluded our huntsmen. One month ago we received word at Fornost that it was spotted in those lands south of Annuminas, our old city. I was newly returned from my long sojourn to the far north, and I vowed to my grandfather the King, that I would serve him up the bacon from the Black Boar at his Yuletide feast. Then I gathered what companions I could and we set off on our pursuit.”

“Then one morning as we arose, the very same beast sprang into our camp. He wounded two of my companions and killed three of our hounds. I armed myself as quick as I could and rode toward him, but he fled before me. Swift he was, and untiring, but as relentless was I in my pursuit. Before it was done, my lone companion who had likewise armed himself, and even the remaining dogs, all dropped out of the chase. And then it was I alone who pursued him.”

“It was on that day when I met you, and our meeting broke off my hunt. I returned to my party and found them camped where I had left them, nursing the wounded and warming themselves at the fire. The next day we broke camp and returned to this city, my home of Fornost.” Celepharn swept his arm back behind himself as he said so.

“When I reported myself to the King, he was displeased with me, though I did not mention that two of you were from Elrond’s house – or even that they were Elves. In his anger he scolded me for turning aside to speak with vagabond strangers and inviting them home, while leaving my oath to him unfulfilled. He ever was fond of his bacon, and ham and roast pork. So he commanded me to keep watch for you out here, until you arrived. That was 9 days ago, on the 3rd of Girithron. And I had begun to fear that you would not come and that I would spend the Yule out here in this tent.”

“And you still would not tell him that one of us was I, his old friend?” asked Elrohir.

“No…” replied Celepharn, with a slight smile. “I suppose I became angry with him myself. Now tell me though… what has delayed you for so long?”

“Here then is our tale,” began Elrohir. “We rode just a bit further before making our own camp on the afternoon we met, and the following day, rode as far as the Baranduin, but did not cross it, staying instead at the inn of Arthedain’s small town on the west shore. The next morning we crossed Stonebows Bridge, and were greeted by a delegation from the Thane of Stonebows, who would speak with us. So we met with him for most of that day, until he finally decided to send us along, with an escort, to a delegation of the people of Cardolan, under old King Tarennor himself – a first cousin to your own grandfather, King Beleg. He kept us there as his houseguests amid much merriment for a few days, and we,” Elrohir paused and looked significantly at the Pilgrim, “were loath to leave.”

“Finally he sent us off, about the time we might have first arrived here, had we not been detained. But when we reached the crossroads town of Bree,” again Elrohir glanced at the Pilgrim, “we stayed there for three full days as well, departing on the fourth morning. And that was four days ago, for we made slow going with the oncoming snow and winter winds hindering our horses.”

The Pilgrim smiled and his eyes twinkled. “Elrohir hints aright that I was the chief source of the delays, and for that I beg your pardon. I am eager to meet all I may and to learn their customs. Why, that was the very reason I accepted your kind invitation to see this wonderful stronghold and city. I did not imagine that our delay would inconvenience you so.” And at this last, his smile vanished and his face became sincere, and he bowed his head as much as a man his age could do while seated on horseback.

Celepharn nodded his acknowledgement. “Truly you could not have expected this outcome, but you do not know my grandfather – and even you, Elrohir, have not seen him of late. But you were detained by those of Cardolan? That is a grave matter indeed.”

“Well… not quite detained,” said the Pilgrim, “although they certainly wished for us to stay that they might satisfy themselves in regard to our purpose. If we had not been agreeable, perhaps they would have pressed the issue, but as it was, agreeable we were.”

“Then…” said Celepharn, pausing as if thinking, “we must explain your delay to my grandfather the King, but let us not dwell overlong on where you were – especially your visit to King Tarennor. For his father was the chief player in the division of these kingdoms, and this is the source of my grandfather’s great bitterness.” As he spoke, he began to knock the snow off of his tent and swiftly disassemble it.

“Truly?” asked Elrohir. “It seemed that Amlaith bore it well enough, although he certainly kept to himself afterwards.”

“Yes, that is what men tell me.” Answered Celepharn. “But the loss was harder to bear for the son than the father. My grandfather, as a young man, hardened his heart against all who had rebelled against his own father, branding them deserters and traitors. He sends no word to either of his cousins who rule Cardolan and Rhudaur. And at the rare times as they send word to him, he shuns the messages himself and gives them to his counselors, chief of whom is my father, asking that they only advise him of any import to the Kingdom that the messages may bear.”

“But now,” continued Celepharn, turning to gather what few items he had about himself before emptying the contents of a small kettle into the low fire and kicking snow onto the coals, “with your arrival, my assigned task has been completed and I may return to my grandfather’s palace. Come.”

And with that he turned, carrying his equipment in a single bundle beneath his arm and walking toward the city. The gate opened before him and the three riders followed him through.

[Valandil]

NOTE: See Page 2 of this thread for updated, improved chapters!

Once through the gate, they came into a tall, narrow chamber, lighted by a shaft cut through the rock overhead. Beyond this the path ramped up slightly, until it came to another level chamber, with another light shaft above it. On up again went the passage through the rock, until they emerged again into daylight (and wind and snowfall), fairly in the middle of the lower plateau. They saw guards of the city now, two squads of four men each, who had been alerted to their coming, but knowing who came, stood in orderly array on either side of their path as they came forth from the tunnel.

The guards wore the same dark blue as Celepharn adorned with a similar emblem, though lesser in size than that the trio had seen on him at their first meeting. This was apparently the royal sign of this kingdom. The guards were tall men, but not so tall as Celepharn - each young and fit, and each armed with spear, shield and sword.

Just beyond the guards was an open square, about which ran a circular path. They had gone straight north through the tunnel’s passage and now turned sharply to the right, going eastward on the circular path. After a quarter circle, they took the road which led straight east, toward a cleft in the upper plateau, in which they now saw that there was a path up into that upper tier.

The city about them was filled with two and three story buildings, most of them close together, some with shops of different kinds at the ground level and living quarters above. In most cases, the highest floor was a half floor, the southern wall rising full height, with upper windows to allow in the light that passed over the house of their southern neighbor, and the roof sloping down to the north, allowing light to reach the house of their northern neighbor. Most were of stone, but some buildings were built partly, or entirely of wood.

Few people were about at this time, for winter was coming on in full, and it was cold, and the daylight was beginning to fade. Wisps of smoke came from most of the chimneys, as the occupants gathered at the fire to keep warm or to prepare their evening meal. These were usually built up along the taller southern sides of the structures, to reach higher and to soak up into the stone what warmth they could gather from the daytime sun.

They passed an open gate at a guardhouse at the foot of the next ramp, and one more gatehouse after they had climbed it. Inside this last guardhouse they turned to their left and the upper plateau of Fornost opened before them.

In the center was another square, or courtyard, and just beyond it, and to the left and right, were three large structures. The one directly before them was symmetrical about the courtyard and was the most impressive of the three. It was the palace of the Ruling House of Arthedain. Built of stone, it stood three stories tall below its roof, and the roof inclined steeply up from both sides, adding nearly as much height as the three stories below, 24 rangar (76 feet) to the peak. The main entrance at one end faced south onto the square and two wings of equal length stretched east and west.

The building to their left was not quite so tall nor so impressive, but it was nearly as large and certainly older. It looked as though it had gone through many additions, most of them done rather irregularly. This was the long home of the Princely House of Fornost, those who had succored King Amlaith the eldest son of Earendur at the time of Arnor’s division. For Amlaith’s wife was of that house, and her father and brothers had stood firmly by him at his great hour of need.

On either side, facing the courtyard more or less from southeast and southwest, two rows deep, stood the city estates of other nobles of the Realm – the greater ones to the inside and the lesser to the outside. But it was toward the third building on the courtyard itself, the one on the right, that Celepharn led them now. This was the Great Hall of Fornost, and it was here that people gathered together when the weather prohibited their meeting indoors. It was also where the king and his household gathered for their meals, and where he preferred to receive guests at mealtime.

The Great Hall was indeed almost entirely one large room. It was two stories high to the springing of the roof, and its roof did not incline so steeply, but it was wide, spanned across by great timber trusses. On its west side two doors opened onto the courtyard at quarterpoints. Inside there was a great fireplace at each end and an open fire pit in the center. Balconies ran along the east and west sides, and passages connected it to the palace and to various ancillary buildings behind it, but also to the Tower of Fornost, which was behind it, and straight east from the Palace.

They made for the southern door, for it was the nearest. There they were met by a half dozen servants, one of whom took the bundle of Celepharn’s tent, which he had insisted on carrying himself the entire way, another took the great white fur robe and thick mittens, which Celepharn removed and handed to him. Other servants took charge of the three horses while their riders dismounted, then led them away to stables behind the Great Hall.

Once inside they walked through a small vestibule and then into the hall itself, where Celepharn led them to a long table before the fireplace at the far end. There they sat and began to warm themselves, Celepharn from his vigil, and his guests from their journey. Celepharn removed his great blue cloak, burgundy hat and scarf, then a long vest of olive green and long, brown outer tunic. Below this was the familiar blue tunic and gray undergarments they had seen him in at their first meeting. He took off his fingerless gloves and his boots, setting these last upon the hearth, open ends toward the fire. Warm robes and slippers were brought for him and his guests, who had removed their cloaks and their boots as well. Then they sat together on a long bench, resting their backs on the table and their feet on the great hearth.

The hall was mostly deserted on their arrival, and for the first hour as they warmed themselves, the few servants who passed through kept to the far side. After that, a bustle of activity began steadily to grow, as preparations were made for the evening meal. By this time, the light from the high windows had shifted to the east wall as the sun descended toward the horizon outside. “Two meals we eat in winter, for the days are shorter, the food scarcer and the duty lighter.” Explained Celepharn. “In summer we also eat at mid-day, but in winter only at first light and at sunset.”

The table was set with simple fare; small baskets of coarse bread, fresh and warm, clay jars of butter and cheese, and a great pot of stew, with a pile of bowls about it. These were also placed on other tables in the hall – one row each down the east and west sides. Pitchers of drink, and sturdy mugs were set forth.

Celepharn and his companions had turned from the fire and stood to wait, the Pilgrim leaning on the staff he had kept with him. While the food was still coming out, a few nobles and officials and their ladies and children began to appear and stand near their appointed places. One official came to the small party and spoke in hushed tones with Celepharn, before calling servants to quickly re-arrange the benches at the head table, and to place two smaller tables crossways at each end. Then a few great, high-backed chairs were brought forth – the greatest placed at the center of the head table, with three others on each side. Celepharn stood by the smaller table on one side, while the three travelers were directed to the other.

Then from the half-level balcony to the left of the fireplace, a trumpet blew two notes, one low and one high. All became silent and turned their attention. Three couples descended a stone stair and approached the high-backed chairs. First came the Prince of Fornost and his wife, and they took the two chairs furthest to the right. They were a stately elder pair, his hair and beard shot with black and white, and his mantle and tunic were brown. Her hair now an even grey and she was arrayed in garments of dark purple. Next came Mallor, Heir to the Kingdom of Arthedain, and his wife, tall and slender, she still retained the beauty of youth, for she was young as the Dunedain account age. Mallor and his wife both wore blue, his garments darker and marked out with emblems of his rank, hers more simple, yet elegant. Mallor took the seat next to the greatest on the left side, or to the right of that seat, and his wife sat beside him. Then came King Beleg and his Queen, advancing slowly toward the remaining seats in the middle. The Queen advanced slowly but gracefully, her carriage straight and proud, and her own beauty had not faded with the years, but had been transformed. Her hair was as white as the snow outside, and she and her King wore garments of white and silver, covered with robes of crimson red.

Beleg and Mallor were like Celepharn in form, but both appeared far more stern and, like Fornost’s Prince, both wore beards, while Celepharn was clean-shaven. Mallor’s hair and short beard were black, but flecked with gray. Beleg’s hair and beard were white, for he was nearing 200 years of age. As he walked, with an attendant on each side, his eyes darted about the room even as his head remained fixed. Suddenly those eyes lit up and a great smile came unexpectedly to his face. He shook off his attendants and went around to the smaller table at the far end, straight toward the middle one of Celepharn’s three guests.

“Elrohir!” he said with joy, as the two locked arms in greeting. “It has been many, many years. How is your… family?”

Elrohir smiled in return. “Greetings King Beleg! Both my father and mother are well, and so is my brother Elladan. My sister also is quite well. I see that your own family grows. Your grandson Celepharn is known to me now from his travels. And it is good to come into your home this day, for you were not yet King when last we met.”

“Yes – it has been long indeed! I have been King here for nearly threescore years. Wait now… Celepharn! Are these indeed the three travelers you met while out a-hunting? You failed to tell me that they were fair folk… least of all that among them was a dear companion of my youth!”

Celepharn came forward when addressed and bowed his head before his grandfather. “King Beleg, you commanded me to be silent and obey you before I could say so.”

“Yes, well… never mind then.” The King answered gruffly. And then returning to look at Elrohir, “My, my… you have not changed at all! Who now are your companions?”

“This is a lord in my father’s house, named Glorfindel,” began Elrohir, as Glorfindel inclined his head slightly, his face expressionless.

Beleg looked intently into his face, “Yes… I believe I have seen you there before – but that was when my own grandfather was King – and over all Arnor, not only Arthedain. Who then is this other?” he asked, turning his attention to the Pilgrim. “No Elf after all, is he?”

“A simple pilgrim for whom I was sent to bring unto my father’s home. I was bringing him thither when your grandson graciously invited us to stay here at Fornost through the winter.”

“Hmmph!” replied Beleg, looking now intently into the Pilgrim’s face. “Just so you are no deserter or traitor, you are welcome at my table!

His guest met his gaze, first with gravity, but then with a slight smile as he answered, “Never yet have I turned from my duty, nor do I ever intend that I shall.”

“So – you are not one of those who rebelled against my father? Who helped to splinter his land asunder? You could be of the right age, if you have the life of the Dunedain.”

“I am not of the Dunedain, and my age is not a certain thing. But I do make the claim to be, what you would call… Faithful.”

“Very well then,” said the King, seeming satisfied as he turned back toward his chair and appeared once more less energetic, calling his attendants back to assist him. “You may then share in my table, such as it is. Poor fare for a King’s table though, is it not?”

“Where I come from, it is the fellowship that makes a table rich or poor Your Majesty, and in that I judge already that I come to a great banquet feast.” Continued the Pilgrim.

The King now slowly lowered himself into his chair, and once he was seated, all others about the room seated themselves as well. Thus King Beleg now sat at the middle of the head table, and to his left were Queen Hiriluial, then the Prince of Fornost and next his wife. To the King’s right was Mallor, then his wife, Lady Tiriel, and into the seat on the far right slipped a lady in simple clothes, with a shawl over her head and shoulders. Celepharn was first on the crosswise table to the King’s right, and at the one to his left sat first the Pilgrim – his staff now leaning across his shoulder, then Elrohir, then Glorfindel.

“Perhaps,” replied the King. “But one cannot eat fellowship. And this table would be none the worse for a great roast pig, I judge.”

At that, Celepharn winced, but did not speak.

“And where you come from,” continued Beleg, reaching for a small loaf of bread and signaling for a bowl of stew, “how do they treat with a youngster who continually disobeys his rightful King and turns aside to his fancies?”

“Well…” said the stranger, speaking to the King as older men will speak of younger, “If it were in truth just his fancies, he need be trained to attend to his duties. But in some cases, a man turns aside from one task when he judges that a greater has arisen. At these times, the wise must weigh his decision and see if he has indeed chosen correctly. If not, he should be shown his error. Yet if he has chosen rightly, he ought to be commended for it.”

“Where then are you from?” asked the King, pausing from his meal and looking once more directly into the newcomer’s eyes.

“Oh,” laughed the old man, “I am from here and about – quite far away, really. Although of late I have been a guest in Lindon.”

“And more lately at Cardolan, you might say,” replied the King, returning his attention to his bowl. He paused again for a moment. “You remind me, almost, of a few others who came to my table a few years ago. Older men, like yourself, traveling together and denying any connection to the division of our land. In fact… after only a short visit here, they were quite eager to get on to Rivendell – same place you’re making for. Curious that.”

“Your pardon, oh King,” interjected Celepharn. “When was this visit? I recall no such guests to your table.”

“Oh,” answered the King, sitting back in his chair, “it was while you were away up north, proving your worth, as some might say of you.” He briefly gave Celepharn a stern look, before growing reflective once more. “For he came at the very time we received word from Ciryandil, inviting us to Gondor to celebrate the one thousandth year since the fall of our great foe. Which I would fain not do – not without being High King over that land, as were my forefathers.” He looked once more on the Pilgrim. “The leader of that foursome, for four there were – oh how his eyes lit up at hearing that message. I should have thought he would go straightaway there himself.”

“Indeed he nearly did.” Said Elrohir. “For that very same group came indeed to my father’s home, staying only a short while, then asking aid in continuing on to Osgiliath. My father commanded Elladan lead them there, while I was sent to Cirdan, for we were told that one more would follow them to the Havens. So there I went, and waited, until he came.”

King Beleg listened intently to Elrohir, then slowly shifted his gaze to the Pilgrim. “Tell me more of Cardolan and Arthedain, if you would,” his guest inquired.

Just then a few roasts of fowl and coney were brought out and placed before them. As a servant stepped up to carve some portions for the King, he waved him back, but gestured for the knife and fork. He pondered over the roast fowl before him before slowly beginning to slice into it.

“My forefathers, from Elendil, Isildur and Valandil, lived as Kings of all Arnor and High Kings over all the Dunedain. But as my grandfather descended into his final days, my father’s brothers began to work intrigues and to contest with my father for rulership of the land.” He began to slice more vigorously. “When at last my grandfather died, they had made their allegiances, and tore off for themselves a share of the Kingdom.” With that, his knife passed through the roast fowl with such force that it struck the platter below, severing off one side of the bird. Beleg stood at his work and began to cut with equal force into the other side. He continued, his voice quaking with rage, “So over my grandfather’s grave my uncles massed their armies for war with my father and with one another. But it was a war in which my father would have no part – nor would he command his own brothers slain, despite their great crimes!” And at that, the other side of the fowl was stricken from the remnant, and Beleg stood, his fork and knife aloft, his arms shaking with rage.

The Queen looked with concern up at her husband and Mallor stood up beside him, placing a hand upon his shoulder, then slowly removing knife and fork from his hands, turning them back over to the servant. At his prompting, Beleg returned to his seat once more but continued his tale, his voice still tense but now under control, “Yet while my father would not have them slain, I marred one of them – my uncle Caryontar. Yes, with a long shot indeed, as he rallied his forces to take the city. My shot threw them all into disarray, and placed me at great risk. I was only rescued by my cousin here,” he nodded toward the Prince of Fornost, “and some nobles of distant kin to us. I turned to see them slain, unable to give them aid.” He paused and looked toward his Queen, who averted her eyes downward. “But I have given aid where I may… to their sons and nephews, their sister and… widow.” Beleg reached his hand over to his wife and placed a finger below her chin, gently lifting it up. She took his hand in both of hers and turned to look long into his eyes.

Then Beleg turned back to his guests, “So where once there was Arnor, we now have Arthedain, and Cardolan and Rhudaur. A quarrelsome lot, the other two – but I leave them to their squabbles. What do they fight for but the chance to bow before Gondor, which now only dallies with them both – even while some guess that Tarannon himself was in secret party with my uncles in their rebellion against my father, for they both gave him aid in his wars to the south. But now my cousins reap their own turmoil out of what their fathers did. But all these things are widely known, are they not?”

“As for Gondor – once Arnor was divided and her rightful King made king only of a part of what his father held – for what reason would they acknowledge him as High King, who could not rule over his own brothers? Thus… the High Kingship has passed from our people. No… I would not go to see the grandeur of Gondor in these days!”

They ate in silence for a while, for nobody wished to speak when the King was in a foul mood – as he all too often was. Especially when the talk had turned to the breaking of Arnor. But after a bit, the Pilgrim turned up his head to thank the serving girl as she filled his mug with a dark, steaming drink. He took a sip, then sat back and watched as she continued on her way, noting how she glanced anon at Celepharn, and how she lingered while serving him, then kept her eyes upon him as she moved onward. He noted too how some of the young noblewomen at the tables, attendants of the Queen and of the Heir’s wife, might discreetly turn their eyes to him for a moment, then look away. Celepharn seemed unaware of all this, but the King was looking again right into the Pilgrim’s eyes when they returned toward him, and his eyes showed that he had seen what the Pilgrim had seen.

The Pilgrim spoke once more with a twinkle in his eye, “King Beleg, it seems that not all here hold your grandson in as low regard as you do. Surely a young man like himself would find the favor of any maiden in the land.” Those around the table looked up, except for the young ladies who had been stealing glances before – for they each suddenly found something of great interest on their plate or lap and some blushed lightly. The serving girl finished her pouring and went briskly off to the lower tables.

“Does this amuse you?” asked the King. “Know, Pilgrim, that we Dunedain are not as the Men of Darkness nor even the Middle Men. In all these matters, we live as the Eldar, though perhaps it is no longer so in the Court of Cardolan?”

“Well enough then, but even the Eldar wed, as have you and your son. Celepharn, are you not of an age to wed the young maiden of your choosing?” he asked.

Celepharn seemed uncertain about whether to answer, but all turned their attention toward him, even the King.

“I have only seen twenty and five winters. Among lesser men, aye – many would already be husbands and fathers. But it is not so for us Dunedain. One of our ladies may wed at 30 or 40, but a young man at 50 or 60 – unless he is of royal or high noble birth, for then he must be at least 70. For a young man must make something of himself before he weds, and one of high birth has much to learn.”

“Seventy years you must be. Is it not difficult for a young man to wait so long?”

“It is…” and Celepharn glanced over at his parents and grandparents before continuing, “… an opportunity to learn self-control. One who would rule his people must learn to rule himself.”

“Well spoken!” said the King, and his mood seemed to lighten a little. “There might be hope for thee still. Just learn to keep thy promises – or not to make them. ‘Let the young men catch their deer, and the old men the geese and the children gather the berries, for I will bring down the bear and the boar’ you said. Well – none saw you bring down the bear whose coat you have, and the boar you have not brought back yet.” And then added as he turned back to the meal before him, “And forty-five or even fifty more years will do you good.” The Pilgrim looked intently around the table at each face. His eyes rested at last on Tiriel, mother of Celepharn.

At just that moment a messenger strode hurriedly into the hall. He looked every bit a young nobleman, garbed in blue trimmed out with red, and the emblem of a star on his left breast. He descending the same stairs by which the King and his entourage had arrived. He then made directly for the King, bent low beside him and spoke softly with King Beleg and Mallor. When he was finished he returned by the way he had come.

The King turned his gaze back toward Celepharn. “Well… it seems you will have another chance to keep that promise. The Black Boar has returned, and troubles the farmers at the head waters of Baranduin. Will you bring him to me?”

Celepharn rose as if to go immediately, but the King waved him back to his seat. “No – finish thy meal, for you shall need your strength. Leave before first light. If you stick to your task this time, perhaps we shall see you again at the Yule. The Black Boar would feed many guests.”

“Pardon me, Your Highness,” interjected the Pilgrim. “Might I… and my companions, join Celepharn in this hunt? After all, we are to blame for his turning aside when he had the beast in his reach.”

The King was surprised by this request, but appeared ready to refuse it, when the lady in the shawl spoke up suddenly, “He is the Elf with the Wand! Grant him what he asks.”

“But… he is no Elf!” said Mallor.

The King held up his hand. “My Seer has spoken, and I shall listen. He shall henceforth be called “Wand-Elf”… and he shall accompany you, and those with him, if they will.”

The Pilgrim seemed pleased and nodded his thanks to the King. Elrohir agreed that he and Glorfindel would go out with the Pilgrim, Wand-Elf. Celepharn sat musing on these latest developments. He didn’t see what good an old man would do him on a hunt for the Black Boar, but he liked the fellow – and it would sure be good to have the Elves along. Probably best to just have the four of them. Any servants or more companions just might slow them down.

The ladies excused themselves first. Shortly after they departed, Celepharn spoke briefly with a chief servant, bidding him to see that preparations were made for the hunt; that he be summoned three hours before first light, with breakfast for four awaiting them and that their horses, provisions, winter wear and hunting gear be made ready. Celepharn then excused himself from his father and the King and motioned for his guests to join him.

Celepharn led them up the same stair and through the same entrance that the royal procession had used, beside the fireplace. Then left along a passage into the royal palace, up one stair, then over to another stair and up two more levels, then down a hallway to a corner room. It was Celepharn’s own room, rather small and spare, but a fire had been kindled and was glowing with its warmth. Three mats had been laid out on the floor besides the one cot. Other than these, a stand with washbasin, a chest and a single chair completed the furnishings. One outer wall of the room sloped steeply inward, for they were just at the level where the roof began. At the other was a window facing west.

Celepharn went to the window and stood looking westward, over the city below and to the white expanse beyond. The snow had stopped falling and all was now still. The moon was out, a few days shy of full, and colored the white canvas below it with tones of silver and blue. Then Celepharn began to speak, still staring out into the distance.

“That way lies our quest, my new friends. And that way also lies Annuminas, the great city of my fathers where none now dwell.”

They set the chair and the chest before the fire and sat to warm themselves and chat before turning in for the night. Glorfindel stood by for the chest could only seat two, and with a motion he declined to be seated. Wand-Elf was given the chair and Celepharn was able to prevail on him to take the cot for the night.

Before they had been seated for long, there came a light tapping at the door. Celepharn sprang up to open it. There stood his mother Tiriel, with her two attendants. He greeted her and stood aside to let her in, but she remained at the doorway. “I would speak with Mister Wand-Elf,” she said.

Wand-Elf rose and approached the doorway. The Lady Tiriel turned to take something from one of her attendants, then turned back with a bundle in her hands.

“Mister Wand-Elf, the winters in the North are perilous. If you would venture forth once more, I would give you this.” She unfolded what was in her hands and there she held a long silver scarf. “May it protect you from the howling winds and bitter cold.”

Wand-Elf bowed slightly and held out his hands to take the proffered gift. “Why thank you, Lady Tiriel, this is most kind.”

She then looked straight into his eyes, a look of concern, even pleading on her lovely face, “Please watch over my son.”

Wand-Elf smiled. “I shall certainly do so. I take it that you watch over him whenever you can?”

“I was trained to watch from a young age, for my father is Warden of Elostirion. Lord Cirdan, he who was of late your host, is known to me, and his presence has always warmed my heart, even as your presence does now. I fear that trouble may come unexpected on this hunting trip, but my heart tells me that you might work my son’s deliverance.”

“Trouble often comes, and yet is mostly unexpected. We will do what we may.”

“I trust that you will indeed – and that you, and your companions, can render the aid that might be of need. Good night, good Wand-Elf.” She ended with a bow.

“Good night, Lady Tiriel,” he replied, inclining his head and then slowly closing the door behind her. Then, still standing at the door, he pulled back his robe from about his neck, wrapped the scarf around himself, then drew the robe tightly over himself. “Yes, that will do the trick,” he said, as he walked back to the chair.

[Gordis]

An awesome story, Valandil, quite well written.

I will not expand in praises here, though I could say quite a lot of good things, especially I like your descriptions of people and places; most of the dialogue is also great. Instead, I will concentrate on nitpicking . Please, forgive me in advance.

Chapter 1.

I had to read quite a long passage before I understood that the "beast" or "prey" Celepharn was hunting was in fact a boar. Perhaps it could have been better to say so much from the start.

It is not too realistic to suppose that on a bright winter day Celepharn could not recognize Elrohir immediately, even if his face was shadowed by a cowl. And you have written that "Celepharn studied their faces"!

Celepharn is 25, but the Numenoreans grow at the same rate as other men, so he shouldn't have sounded so immature - like a boy of 12 (I mean the passage about Arwen ). By the way, In Chapters 2 and 3 he sounds all right.

The pilgrim, which must be no other than Gandalf, is quite fresh from Valinor, so he does not know much about Arnor. Bur he traveled with Glorfindel and Elrohir all the way from Lindon. Curious that Elrohir had not briefed him already on Arnor situation - he must have known pretty well that Annuminas had been long abandoned and so on. By the way, I have a question: do you think Glorfindel has just arrived from Valinor with Gandalf, or has he been hanging around in ME since the middle of the Second Age? (As far as I know, Tolkien canon allows for both possibilities).

Chapter 2 is quite interesting, especially in the part describing the King's reaction to Arnor's division. Also it seems quite plausible that Gandalf was eager to visit the Cardolan King and Bree etc.

Chapter 3.
Great description of Fornost, but I feel that a nice map would much facilitate the reading.
Also I didn't understand were the walls of Fornost man-made or just natural rock formations, like in Isengard?

Very interesting passage about roofs of the houses sloping to the North, allowing sun to come to the next row. Have you seen that somewhere in real life? Or is it your own invention?

About the Hall. I wouldn't expect any house that far North to have that many doors leading outside: "many doors opened onto the courtyard, with principal doors at each end and at the middle." Normally in the North the entrances are restricted to a bare minimum, and each has a stout door opening into a small vestibule (here you were right!) from where another door leads inside. Only that way it is possible to keep a house warm.

So, four other Istari passed through Fornost and Rivendell on the way to Gondor in TA 1000. Very interesting. The one eager to go to Gondor must have been Saruman?

I liked the story of the division of Arnor. Cleverly incorporated into the story.

It seems people around FEEL that the Pilgrim is more than a mere man. The female Seer, and the others as well.

And Wow! Gandalf got his silver scarf!!! So at the time of the Ring-Quest his scarf was... 2000 years old !!

[Valandil]

Originally Posted by Gordis

An awesome story, Valandil, quite well written.

I will not expand in praises here, though I could say quite a lot of good things, especially I like your descriptions of people and places; most of the dialogue is also great. Instead, I will concentrate on nitpicking . Please, forgive me in advance.

Thank you for the compliments Gordis, and thanks for all the comments that follow.

Chapter 1.

I had to read quite a long passage before I understood that the "beast" or "prey" Celepharn was hunting was in fact a boar. Perhaps it could have been better to say so much from the start.

Oh... I don't mind keeping you in suspense on this one!

It is not too realistic to suppose that on a bright winter day Celepharn could not recognize Elrohir immediately, even if his face was shadowed by a cowl. And you have written that "Celepharn studied their faces"!

Well... I thought it was a mostly cloudy late autumn day. I'll re-check that. Maybe "Celepharn tried to study their faces" or something.

Celepharn is 25, but the Numenoreans grow at the same rate as other men, so he shouldn't have sounded so immature - like a boy of 12 (I mean the passage about Arwen ). By the way, In Chapters 2 and 3 he sounds all right.

Sorry - I was incorporating a rather bad 'running joke' that amuses me - that all the men of Aragorn's line in turn develop a crush on Arwen. I really SHOULD remove that part... (did you catch Elrohir's measured answer to Beleg when he asks about his family?)

The pilgrim, which must be no other than Gandalf, is quite fresh from Valinor, so he does not know much about Arnor. Bur he traveled with Glorfindel and Elrohir all the way from Lindon. Curious that Elrohir had not briefed him already on Arnor situation - he must have known pretty well that Annuminas had been long abandoned and so on. By the way, I have a question: do you think Glorfindel has just arrived from Valinor with Gandalf, or has he been hanging around in ME since the middle of the Second Age? (As far as I know, Tolkien canon allows for both possibilities).

Maybe they just talked about Elf things. Glorfindel - could go either way. Actually, I first heard about him possibly coming with Gandalf when I originally conceived this story - long time ago (I have LOTS of these story ideas forming themselves in my head), and meant to incorporate that. But then I saw Tolkien's later conclusion that he must have come in the Second Age - so my story works mostly with that one. Here - he went out to Lindon along with Elrohir to wait around for Gandalf/Olorin to show up, so he came Second Age.

Chapter 2 is quite interesting, especially in the part describing the King's reaction to Arnor's division. Also it seems quite plausible that Gandalf was eager to visit the Cardolan King and Bree etc.

Yes - I think Gandalf would want to get to know ALL the Men of Middle Earth.

Glad you mentioned the King's reaction. I'm going off the supposition that if a man is wronged, he can sometimes accept it and deal with it - but sometimes his son (or someone else who loves him) will feel more pain and bitterness over it than he did. That's what I'm portraying with Beleg - who is very bitter about the pill that his father Amlaith had to swallow.

Chapter 3.
Great description of Fornost, but I feel that a nice map would much facilitate the reading.
Also I didn't understand were the walls of Fornost man-made or just natural rock formations, like in Isengard?

Better than a map - I've made a more-or-less decent sketch, which I need to color, scan and post. I plan to get it in this thread at some point - along with maybe a few other illustrations. Mostly natural though, with some augmentation.

Very interesting passage about roofs of the houses sloping to the North, allowing sun to come to the next row. Have you seen that somewhere in real life? Or is it your own invention?

My own idea - as far as I know. Seems logical enough though, huh? I just sort of took some passive-solar ideas and ran with them.

About the Hall. I wouldn't expect any house that far North to have that many doors leading outside: "many doors opened onto the courtyard, with principal doors at each end and at the middle." Normally in the North the entrances are restricted to a bare minimum, and each has a stout door opening into a small vestibule (here you were right!) from where another door leads inside. Only that way it is possible to keep a house warm.

This I should definitely change - thank you. I was thinking in terms of the vast number of people who might come in though, and that the doors could be kept closed, but you make a sound argument and I think you're right. Vestibules: even here in Chicago - almost every building has a vestibule, so I couldn't miss that one.

So, four other Istari passed through Fornost and Rivendell on the way to Gondor in TA 1000. Very interesting. The one eager to go to Gondor must have been Saruman?

I liked the story of the division of Arnor. Cleverly incorporated into the story.

It seems people around FEEL that the Pilgrim is more than a mere man. The female Seer, and the others as well.

And Wow! Gandalf got his silver scarf!!! So at the time of the Ring-Quest his scarf was... 2000 years old !!

Yes - Saruman was the one interested in power centers - the Istari arrived about the time that Gondor reached its greatest power, and I think he would have been very interested in that.

I hope to treat more fully with "The Division" in a separate story. Maybe later this year...

Yes - the scarf. You can believe one of two things. Either the preservation power of the Elven Ring kept it intact for the next 2000 years, or he replaced each with another like it whenever one wore out (OR just happened to have a new silver one in 2941). Anyway - I'm not giving him the blue hat... after all, he DID just arrive, and there's no need to complete his outfit so soon!

[Mari]

I like this story very much! There is a mysteriousness about Glorfindel that sparks my interest...

[Mari]

He he, hope to see Glorfindel back sometimes! *very subtle hint*

[Valandil]

Originally Posted by Mari

He he, hope to see Glorfindel back sometimes! *very subtle hint*

But do you like the "Visitors" depiction of Glorfindel, or the LOTR depiction?

Actually - when I first conceived this story, I had read that Glorfindel may have returned to Middle-Earth in the Third Age, maybe arriving with Gandalf. Later - I read further that he had more likely come in the Second Age. But I held onto the "distance" I had decided to establish between him and the Human characters in the story.

Although he's VERY friendly toward Aragorn in LOTR - he could either have made an exception with Aragorn, he could have changed somewhat over the intervening 2000 years - or he could have been drawn closer and closer to the line of Elendil, and held them in high regard (and maybe it started with Celepharn facing down Helkaruth).

Of course... YOU could write a Glorfindel story!

[Mari]

I feel ashamed, but I must admit that I don't remember a Glorfindel from the LOTR... so it was your version I liked. He seemed to me mysterious, with a lot of potential. Not sure what potential that would be though. A bit aloof, but not arrogant or "I couldn't care less".
For some reason my focus kept returning to him as it were, and not only to the main characters. Not sure how to explain it. :S

Anyway, I've never finished a story in my life, so I don't see myself writing a good story. Plus, most stories I write are children stories. Ranging from 8 to 12 year olds. And I'm not original. Therefore it would not be a good idea for me to write about him

[Valandil]

Originally Posted by Mari

I feel ashamed, but I must admit that I don't remember a Glorfindel from the LOTR...

He has a pretty small role - and in the movie it's expanded and given to Arwen. He meets Aragorn and the hobbits on their way to Rivendell and helps them get there. He's also at the Council of Elrond, but it's tough to keep track of which Elf is speaking between him, Erestor and Galdor. Or to even keep straight who those three are, especially your first few times through.

[Valandil]

I can hardly believe it, but I accidentally omitted something else I wanted to say in the story. I have added it in its proper place - near the end of Chapter 6 - and have left it bolded and italicized for now, so you who have already read can readily identify it.

I think I will try to write an "Author's Notes" for this little story of mine.

Or would that totally spoil it?

[Valandil]

OK - I just removed the bold & italicization from the new quote.

I've also added an "Author's Notes" section on the end of the Chapter 7 post, if anyone would like to check it out.

[Varnafindë]

I retain my feeling of abruptness - but I see that you were talking about something that really was unfinished. A very different feeling.

Perhaps it's just that I was hoping for more?

[Valandil]

Varnafinde - thank you very much. Both for taking the time to read it and for the comments. I admit that the story needs some clean-up edits here and there. I recently re-read it, after having left it alone for a long time. I was surprised at a few typos - as well as some stylistic things I would change now. I don't think I read carefully over the notes - so I didn't notice that I left a sentence without a verb and with an unclosed parentheses. I probably did a sloppy edit to change a previous sentence and wasn't careful enough with it. So I'll need to give that a look.

Some of the wrap-ups:
* Thane of Stonebows approaching: just indicates that Wand-Elf is having some early successes in trying to unite the estranged daughter kingdoms of Arnor. Of course, there are surely setbacks to follow, because they still have a rocky road for the next few hundred years. Also - I don't post this here at Entmoot, but I have written a history of the northern kings in an outline form - and indicate there that Celepharn marries a daughter of the Thane of Stonebows. We shouldn't look for the wedding anytime soon though - because Celepharn likely won't marry for another 50 or 55 years or so. His heir is born 58 years after this story is set. Yet - in another sense, this is just showing that things go on. The main part of this story is over, and life continues and changes. It also demonstrates a changed heart in King Beleg, who has perhaps 'warmed up' to the idea of reconciliations with the presence of Wand-Elf.
* Helkaruth is indeed intended to be the cold drake who will eventually slay Dain. He may not have liked Glorfindel's words, but he took them to heart and stayed out of Eriador. But many years later, even that won't matter. Trust me, that is a story I want to tell, but I don't want to give it away in advance. Maybe I'll try to start it soon. Is that a good 'next'?

I'm glad you liked that about Wand-Elf vaguely remember something about the future. That's how I imagine it might have been for him - having sung in the choir before time began about all these things that would come to pass. He might have re-sung snatches of the song for all the long years in Aman. Now that he has been confined permanently (more or less) to that human form, and is newly arrived in Middle Earth, he may - especially at first - struggle to piece things together and to recall them clearly. Maybe he remembers it imperfectly - at least at first. Or maybe it's that he is finally seeing before him what he has sung that was to be, and is uncertain (this being a new experience to some extent) whether he recognizes it.

Did you notice he even seems baffled by the mention of 'snow'? Or maybe not baffled, but he might have to suddenly think about snow in new terms... in ways in which someone cloaked in mortality would think of snow, not as he would have previously thought of and remembered snow.

Glad you enjoyed it.

[Valandil]

OK - I just corrected my note about the Princes.

[Varnafindë]

Originally Posted by Valandil

OK - I just corrected my note about the Princes.

Thank you!
And that concept of Princes makes sense - Aragorn appoints Faramir to be Prince of Ithilien (as a principality under Gondor), and I guess that the Prince of Dol Amroth rules Dol Amroth as another prinicipality under Gondor.

(It would be the same thing with Charles being Prince of Wales, with the difference that he's not expected to rule it
His investment as the Prince of Wales took place when he had come of age, he had only been a Prince up till that time.)

Originally Posted by Valandil

* Thane of Stonebows approaching: just indicates that Wand-Elf is having some early successes in trying to unite the estranged daughter kingdoms of Arnor. Of course, there are surely setbacks to follow, because they still have a rocky road for the next few hundred years.

I guessed that this was why they were coming, and that it wasn't a missing subplot. It's probably best just to leave it like it is - even what I thought of, wasn't meant to be a subplot. You cannot start a subplot in the middle of the last paragraph. Or you shouldn't

Also - I don't post this here at Entmoot, but I have written a history of the northern kings in an outline form - and indicate there that Celepharn marries a daughter of the Thane of Stonebows. [...] It also demonstrates a changed heart in King Beleg, who has perhaps 'warmed up' to the idea of reconciliations with the presence of Wand-Elf.

A daughter? Sweet!
I'm afraid I didn't notice that about King Beleg, though - or perhaps I just didn't notice the lack of his usual animosity.

* Helkaruth is indeed intended to be the cold drake who will eventually slay Dain. He may not have liked Glorfindel's words, but he took them to heart and stayed out of Eriador. But many years later, even that won't matter. Trust me, that is a story I want to tell, but I don't want to give it away in advance. Maybe I'll try to start it soon. Is that a good 'next'?

Then Celepharn cannot slay him
Yes, that's a good story and a good 'next'. I hope that both Celepharn's Annuminas and Dain are revenged eventually. I expect you would tell the story of Dain first, and then hopefully about the revenge afterwards ...

I'm glad you liked that about Wand-Elf vaguely remember something about the future. That's how I imagine it might have been for him - having sung in the choir before time began about all these things that would come to pass. [...] Maybe he remembers it imperfectly - at least at first. Or maybe it's that he is finally seeing before him what he has sung that was to be, and is uncertain (this being a new experience to some extent) whether he recognizes it.

I wasn't quite sure what way you were taking it, but I guessed it had something to do with his coming from the West.
I like this solution

I guess that only the Valar were creating parts of the Music, the Maiar would just be singing along, so there's all the more reason for him to be uncertain about whether he has interpreted it correctly, and whether he recognizes it.

Did you notice he even seems baffled by the mention of 'snow'? Or maybe not baffled, but he might have to suddenly think about snow in new terms... in ways in which someone cloaked in mortality would think of snow, not as he would have previously thought of and remembered snow.

I noticed. Seeing snow in the distance, or even outside your window, is very different from having to go out and walk in it ...

But it's possibly because of his memory as well. He's a little bit the same at first when he meets Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli in Fangorn.

'Gandalf,' the old man repeated, as if recalling from old memory a long disused word. 'Yes, that was the name. I was Gandalf.'

Even then, it takes him a little while to get back to who he has been. You might have thought that he was through with that after having been with Galadriel for a few days first, but then she would call him Mithrandir, not Gandalf ...

[Valandil]

Don't get too excited, because I can be really... REALLY... slow!

But I've spent some time the past couple days outlining, setting up a timeline and making tentative chapter assignments for that next story.

Like I say, it may be awhile before there's much more to tell than that.