Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Gil-galad, Elrond, Erestor and The Last Homely House. Aland and Naleth are mine. Regrettably, I also own Arphenion.
Then there followed days of Kings, Empires and revolution.
Blood just looks the same when you open the veins. (1)
SA 3025
I Hûl Vethen, read the sign over the door. 'The Last Goblet' - this was surely a cheeky jest at 'The Last Homely House'.
"Erestor hinted that the elves posted here needed a place less formal than the Hall of Fire," Elrond said. "I think it is my presence in that hall to which they object - I fear they think me unsuited to merry-making."
"Come now," Arphenion grinned. "I am certain that I heard a Dwarvish curse during that mad chess match last night. It almost woke me from my nap."
"Yes, you ancient Light-Elves do get weary. You will warn us if our merry-making keeps you from your bed tonight?" Gil-galad said.
They bundled inside the front door. A rather comical show of hasty and drunken attempts to genuflect followed as one elf elbowed another, nodding significantly at the High King, his Vice-Regent and his Captain at the door.
"Arphenion wins this round," Elrond whispered.
The innkeeper came forward and hastily took them to the fireside. "Make room for your betters," he said, dispersing the elves lounging by the fire.
"And your name, good keeper?"
"Aland."
"Aland?" Gil-galad raised his eyebrows, waiting for the patronymic.
"Aland," the innkeeper said simply. "I will send Naleth to you."
"If I recall correctly, he ran a rather...unsavoury tavern in the Fëanorian quarter before Eregion was founded," Gil-galad said, once the innkeeper was out of earshot.
"'Unsavoury' cannot begin to describe the turpentine he served."
"I spoke of its reputation, but if you frequented the place, Arphenion, then 'unsavoury' is indeed inadequate."
The serving maid came to the table. "I believe the lady knows more of our keeper," Elrond said. "You are his wife, I think?"
She laughed. "Nay, more like a sister. But it is a long story."
"Well, bring us a flagon of cider, and we will hear your tale," Gil-galad said.
Naleth returned to fill their mugs with strong, hot cider. "It is not often that I am asked for a tale - in my business, it is usually the other way 'round." She would not join them at their table, but remained standing as she spoke.
"My parents kept a tavern in Tirion. They were Fingolfin's people, but they chose to stay in Valinor. 'What use will they have for taverns in a war?' they asked.
"I was just a girl - forty-six as we now reckon time, but at the last, I slipped out and joined myself to the people of Fëanor. Many young elves did likewise - you can imagine how his speech on Túna inflamed our hearts.
"I fought my way to the ship. I did not understand why they were trying to stop us - but I do not think most of us understood - not even our lords. Not until later, too late. When I came aboard, someone handed me a child. 'Find his parents,' he told me, but they were not on that ship.
"Alatáno, his name was, but that was all he could say. I feared for a time that he had taken a blow to the head, for he had no words. In Mithrim, I walked the camp every night, but no one knew the child. I do not know - perhaps his parents were killed at Alqualondë, or were on one of the ships drowned in Uinen's rage. Maybe they died in the first battle. But I never found them, or anyone who recognised the child. Lord Caranthir started to keep a list of those searching, and those to be found - there were so many missing. Yet, the list only seemed to get shorter when someone was confirmed dead.
"My parents were wrong, and I could serve a drink and clean a table, so I was never short of work.
"I served in the hall of Maedhros for a time, while Aland came of age. After the Dagor Aglareb, we had a long peace behind the leaguer, and there was much travel and commerce in Thargelion. We left Himring to see new faces and hear new stories. Everyone has a tale to tell, and after a few drinks, they are willing to part with it. Men, especially. Dwarves, less so, for even in their cups, they hold their secrets close.
"Eventually, we had our own tavern, Aland and I. We worked many years in the service of a man and his wife. He had no sons, and his daughters had married into the people of Bëor and lived in Dorthonion. We had the tavern for perhaps fifteen years before the Dagor Bragollach. And then, we had nothing but the trees and the stars above. But, Aland could make a drink from potatoes, or any sort of root, and we were never short of demand, not in those days."
"So, that is who was making that stuff!" Elrond said. "It drove Maedhros half-mad - spirits were forbidden, except for wine."
"The Falathrim made it with seaweed on Balar. They still do," Gil-galad said. "Círdan did not worry much about it - people had reason enough to drink, he said."
"You did not have orcs on Balar," Elrond said. (2)
"You can imagine, after Doriath, and then Sirion...no matter what they say," Naleth said, lifting her chin, "we did not kill ruthlessly at Doriath. Only those who stood in our way. Those were our orders."
"And Dior's family?" Gil-galad asked.
"The elves who left the little ones in the woods were executed. Disobedience. And Dior's wife put an axe through Lord Caranthir's skull, did she not?"
Elrond raised his eyebrows. "So I have heard. Do you know this for certain?"
"I saw it," the maid said shortly. "A healer who journeyed with me was killed at Sirion," she continued. "She had no sword but the one put through her by the King's soldiers." She glanced at Gil-galad. "I only speak the truth. Right is not so easy to see from the ground."
"It is not so easy to see from above, either," Gil-galad said softly.
"It was difficult in Forlond," she continued. "If our folk did the same work, they were paid half, and those with skills - and there were many - could only get work as common labourers. Our custom wanted their liquor strong and cheap. We ran a better establishment in Eregion. Everyone had money to spend.
"We were fortunate to escape," she said simply. "And now, we are here. The place does not change, but the companies rotate often enough. Young faces, on their first stay away from home, old eyes filled with sea-longing. We see a few Dwarves when their masters are on official business. Good folk - they always leave generous vails to the maids." She glanced at the table. "I have nattered on too long - your flagon is empty."
"And another mug, if you please!" Erestor joined them at the table. "I told you that you should keep your heads covered. This place is a tomb tonight."
"And they said we would spoil the merry-making," Elrond said with a rueful laugh.
"Not to mention the bawdy songs."
"There are bawdy songs?" Gil-galad asked.
"Not tonight," Erestor said regretfully. "But your minstrel last night-"
"I have never heard Lindir sing anything bawdy."
"I have," Arphenion said.
Gil-galad covered his eyes. "I had forgotten that he was one of your...intimates. On second thought, I am quite satisfied with his repertoire."
Aland plunked the flagon of cider on the table. "You must forgive Naleth. Her tongue runs away with her."
"On the contrary, she told an interesting tale."
"Her tongue can also get her into trouble," Aland said. He was an elf of impressive height for a Noldo and as strong as an ox. One could imagine that he had no difficulty with troublemakers in his taverns. "She has grievances, and she is loyal as the day is long. Her love was killed at Sirion, did she tell you that?"
Elrond, his gaze far away in thought, turned suddenly to the present. "Alatáno Alpabarelo?" (3)
Aland started at the question. "I have not heard that tongue since I was a babe in arms. And I remember little of it," he said firmly. "She does not know. And no reason for her to know. If you need nothing else of me?"
"You have my leave," Gil-galad murmured. When the innkeeper had gone, he turned to Elrond questioningly.
"The name sounded like it might be Telerin. And it explains why he could not speak. Though, he was probably terrified out of his wits," Elrond added. "I have seen enough children like him."
"It would explain why no one knew the child," Gil-galad said slowly. "Truly, our hearts know no divisions save what we their lords have the conceit to place in them."
"All blood gleams red, once spilt," Elrond finished soberly.
"Eru save me!" Arphenion muttered. "Come, Erestor. Let us get a bottle of wine and find Lindir." He grinned wolfishly. "I have some interactive ideas for his bawdy songs."
Erestor looked at Elrond doubtfully.
"They will be spouting Pengolodh at one another in a minute," Arphenion said impatiently. "Or worse, reciting the Laws and Customs."
"Oh, go on," Elrond said, waving Erestor toward the door. He turned to Gil-galad. "Fancy a mad game of chess?"
(1) 'Is It Like Today?' by World Party
(2)"You did not have orcs on Balar"
No intent to make Maedhros the bad guy here. Both Círdan and Maedhros would have a lot of PTSD elves on their hands, and nothing they could do for them. As Elrond points out, Maedhros had to deal with it in a war zone. (Tolkien would have called it shell shock, but we have a canonical example of PTSD in Celebrian.)
(3) Alatáno Alpabarelo (Telerin)
'Alatáno from Alqualondë'. From alpa, 'swan' and bar, 'home'. (Of course, we haven't got a word for 'havens' in Telerin. Why would we need that?) We don't have an example of the ablative case, but we do have the allative, which is identical to the case ending in Quenya with the double n reduced to -na. So, I'm going with the notion that the ablative would also be identical, but reduced from double l to -lo.