A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in posting, real life interfered. :-)
Chapter 4: Avacauro remembers
The next day Mírimë awoke excited and curious. She had no classes that day and Avacauro promised to tell her what he knew about Erdanon's and Mairacallo's story. In her excitement she forgot the parcel with Avacauro's paints at home. When she returned and went into her father's shop to get it, one of his customers had already arrived and regaled Aranon with talk about last night's dramatic events which occurred in one of the city inn's common room.
"... it looked like the beginning of a merry night, I have recited several of my poems for which I got a goblet of good wine, guests asked for more, but then royal guards stormed in and went straight for a group of young bucks drinking and laughing at a corner table. One of the guards asked them about something, or more likely, asked for someone. Those youngsters didn't hurry to answer. I would say they were after a long time reminded that every action has it's consequences, they realized they had done something they shouldn't and got scared.
Oh, good morning, lovely lady," the nér interrupted his story.
"What is it you need, Miri," Aranon asked.
"I forgot to take the paints to Avacauro," Mírimë answered.
"I suppose they were forgotten due to excitement and anticipation?" her father smiled and pulled the parcel from under the counter. "Here you are. Be careful with it, or you will incur Avacauro's eternal wrath."
Mírimë chuckled and thanked her father. When she was leaving, she heard the customer talk again:
"One of them was being cocky, but they would have none of it and gave him a talk, threatening him to..."
Rest of the sentence was cut off by closing of the shop's door. Mírimë wondered if said group of youngsters contained Finiorë. She wished it were so, but in the end she came to the conclusion that it was unlikely even for the king's people to find him so quickly. He was not a noble with his own residence and well known face, merely a friend of a grandson of one. No, this incident with the guards was probably connected to another problem.
When she arrived at Avacauro's studio, the painter was busy doing some preparatory sketches.
"Hello, Mírimë. Come in and make yourself comfortable," he welcomed her and took the parcel from her. "Sit, I will bring some apple juice to drink and we will begin."
Avacauro went to fetch said drink and Mírimë sneaked a look at his sketches. They showed two néri, one with light hair and one dark-haired. The light one was obviously wounded or ill, lying on a cot, while the dark one supported his head with one hand and held a cup to his lips with the other.
She looked closer to see details and noticed that the dark nér had shadows under his eyes, matted hair and blood-stained clothing.
When Avacauro returned with the juice, he found her still studying the sketch. Mírimë turned to him with questioning look on her face.
"That was nearly every day's occurrence during the War of Wrath. It could also be seen after the fight mentioned by Lord Horëamo. The dark-haired nér is healer who belonged to Erdanon's company. The other is a wounded Vanyarin soldier. That memory has become quite vivid these last days."
"How did you get to see this? Did you belong to Mairacallo's company?"
"No, I belonged to another troop. My commander sent me with a message to Mairacallo and his superior. It was a coincidence that I saw so much of that tragedy and its aftermath. I have often wondered how it came to pass. In my opinion Erdanon was not so indifferent and cavalier, and his Vanyarin counterpart was not so innocent as Horëamo says. I believe there is a possibility that his attitude to Middle-Earth elves played a major role."
"His attitude?" Mírimë asked, slightly confused.
Avacauro gave her a sad smile. "You see, Miri, when the army was being assembled and trained, it's members had differing understanding of why they were going to fight with Morgoth's servants. Some thought that should Morgoth win over the elves of Middle-Earth, he would then try to come and harm the elves of Valinor. After all, he tried it before. Then there was a second group, mainly the remaining Noldor and those of the Vanyar who remembered the Great journey. These had friends or relatives who were in peril and wanted to help them.
The third group and also the most numerous one, were those with the belief that every elf has a right to live a life in peace without the necessity to be constantly on their guard against evil creatures. That was not reality for their kin overseas and they wanted to rectify it. The last group, and luckily a very minor one, consisted of those who thought that Middle-Earth elves were just incapable of protecting their land and needed to be shown how to do it properly." Avacauro explained.
"Which group did you belong to?"
"The first one. Before Ëarendil and Elwing arrived and related exactly how bad the situation overseas is, I never gave much thought to it. When I finally did so, I got scared. I suppose Master Calimórë's vivid descriptions of fell creatures they met during the Great journey had done their part also," smiled the painter.
His listener's eyes widened. "He is so old?" she burst out.
"Yes, he remembers the Journey and he taught me history more than six thousand years ago," said Avacauro, amused by her outburst. "And I know he has friends or acquaintances among the Exiles and the Sindar, I have met him at some of their festivals I attended, he always had company.
"Do you think he could have met a former member of Erdanon's company that way?"
"It is possible."
Both got quiet and focused on their own thoughts. Outside a group of elves arrived at the house opposite Avacauro's. One of them, a nér wrapped in a white cloak and with a hood over his head, was gazing at his surroundings in wonder and perhaps apprehension. Avacauro noticed and commented on it.
"It seems that another elf has returned home from Námo's halls."
Mírimë turned to look in the same direction as her host. "One of those fallen in the War of Wrath?"
"Most likely. Which reminds me I should continue my narrative. You now know that there was a small group of Vanyarin warriors with potentially disastrous attitude. I will move on to where I originally wanted to begin. As I already said, I was sent as a messenger. On my way to deliver the message entrusted to me, I came across Erdanon's troop heading in the opposite direction. Both Erdanon and his second-in-command, Erestor, urged me to be as careful as I could, because I was traveling in the direction of an orcish keep and night was falling - a time when the orcs are at their most dangerous. They also told me I should find whom I seek easily, if I just trace back their steps. According to them the other troop should be following them."
"But that sounds..."
"Very different from what Horëamo said? As if Erdanon and Mairacallo's superior agreed on a course of action and the latter did not keep it?"
"Yes. Please, continue."
"As you wish. I did as the Noldor advised me, but I found only a site where the troops might have stopped for a while, and a track leading in the direction opposite to one which I came from. I followed that track and found whom I sought. Mairacallo was urgently talking to his superior, but apparently his words were falling on deaf ears. When the commander stormed away, I tried to follow him, but Mairacallo noticed and stopped me."
"Did you manage to deliver the message?" Mírimë enquired.
"Yes, Mairacallo took it. I was ordered to turn back, find Erdanon and tell him what his Vanyarin counterpart was doing – and that there was no stopping him. I set off. When I found the Noldor, it was obvious they'd had an encounter with a pack of orcs. Some were piling slain orcs to be burned, others were assisting their comrades with minor wounds and their healer was busy tending to those more seriously injured. When I relayed what Mairacallo wanted me to relay, Erdanon immediately sent one of his uninjured men off with a note. As I have learned later, the note was meant for Gil-Galad, informing him about the situation. Only then I fully realized something tragic could occur."
Avacauro was once again lost in thought and Mírimë did not urge him to continue. She also had something to think about, namely the impression that Horëamo's tale seemed more and more like a half-truth if not a lie, and a possible reason why he told the story the way he did and why now.
Their contemplation was interrupted by one of Avacauro's neighbours rushing in the studio.
"Have you heard the news? The guards arrested Lord Horëamo's grandson and his servant and now they are to be judged for assault on Lady Celebrían!"