Chapter XXIX: Gaerlonn
The next day, as planned, they awakened Nerwen while the sky was just paling at east. They hurriedly broke their fast with a black tea scented with bergamot and some cracker similar to lembas, even if not as sweet and fragrant, and then they set forth following the coast, keeping close to the trees. They stopped just once at half-morning, to have a quick snack – dried fruits and a tasty ready-mix of nuts, hazelnuts, almonds and pistachios – then they marched on. It was almost noon when they finally reached their destination, a massive, low defensive tower built of an almost black stone, placed on a hill at the sea-shore, upon which waved a long banner with a red tree on a dark-green field: the emblem of the Kindi, as Aryon explained to Nerwen.
They halted just for the time needed to have a warm morsel together with the small garrison of the tower, then Aryon chose six of his people, among them the female Elf commanding the squad, to escort him and Nerwen, and gave instructions to have mounts prepared for them. After finishing their meal, they exited and found eight magnificent horses with crownpiece, bit and bridles, but without saddle, replaced by a wooden cloth secured around the belly by belts. This was indeed the way to mount typical among the Silvan Elves, used also in Lothlórien. During the First Age, Nerwen tried the saddle with stirrups, customary to the Men, and she had adopted that way to ride since, finding it more comfortable; but for a few days, she wouldn't have any problem to adjust.
She caressed the bay mare's snout they had assigned her and greeted her mentally, so to make her acquaintance. The mare perked her ears in surprise, vaguely unsettled, but the Maia sent her a reassuring feeling and the animal calmed immediately down.
Thanks for carrying me, Nerwen told her, caressing her fawn neck.
It's a pleasure, the horse answered, You're small, you don't weigh much.
The Aini frowned a little: something in the mare's statement suggested a precise reason, thus she examined her. She discovered she was pregnant, just a few weeks; the minuscule embryo looked healthy, but it wasn't very firmly attached to the uterus.
You mustn't exert yourself, she said then, or you'll lose your baby.
A feeling of alarm radiated from the mare, but again she calmed her down:
It's fine, as long as you take it easy.
"I cannot ride this mare," she announced in a loud voice, "She just started a pregnancy, but she risks abortion: keep her into the stable and make sure she doesn't exert herself."
Aryon glowered:
"And how do you know?" he asked. She turned to glare at him, one hand on her hip; she didn't answer, just lifting one eyebrow.
Aryon felt annoyed by her attitude; then he recalled her capability to communicate with animals – she told him about Calad and the dolphin, so there was no reason to doubt she talked to horses, too – and felt silly.
He hated feeling silly.
"Of course," he said through clenched teeth, then he turned to the groom and reported to him what Nerwen had said. The other Avar answered in a protesting tone, but the prince, intolerant to any objection, glared at him in a way that would incinerate a dragon; the poor Elf hastily bowed and seized the mare's bridles, ready to lead her away.
Nerwen patted the mare's side to take her leave and mentally wished her good. She got back a feeling of gratefulness.
Aryon approached the Istar.
"The groom claims this mare has never been covered," he said, in a tone that demanded an explanation. Nerwen glared at him again: it looked like he didn't want to give up doubting her.
"Not always a mare mates when her owner decides it," she said coldly, "Apparently she decided on her own."
The Elf hesitated, then he nodded: he, too, knew this sometimes occurred.
Soon after, the groom arrived with another horse, this time a young roan stallion. He talked to Aryon, who translated:
"He recommends carefulness, Kerfin is a little exuberant."
Nerwen nodded, then she caressed the horse's muzzle as she did earlier with the mare and introduced herself. The stallion took a step back in surprise, but his curiosity prevailed and he returned to her. An immediate fondness sparkled between him and the Istar.
Nerwen therefore mounted him, with the help of one of the soldiers of the garrison, who joined his hands and let her use them as a stirrup, and she joined the group leaving for Gaerlonn. Aryon lingered a few minutes to speak with the commander of the tower, perhaps instructing him to send a message to Queen Eliénna, and then mounted on his horse. Nerwen noticed, slightly amused, that it was black, as it's rider attire.
The Avar prince guided his stallion to the front of the departing group and signalled Nerwen to come by his side; finally they set forth, with Calad preceding them flying in reconnaissance.
OOO
They reached Gaerlonn two days later in the early afternoon, with no accident whatsoever. Before entering the town, Nerwen called Calad back and made her perch in front of her, on the blanket.
The port city of the Elves of Eryn Rhûn was much smaller and humbler than Gobelamon, and had a very simple architecture; the houses were mostly in wood, some in wood and stone, and only a few – probably the government buildings – were entirely in stone. It was very far from the appearance of any other Elven town in Middle-earth Nerwen had seen so far – the Grey Havens, Rivendell, Caras Galadhon – but the atmosphere was anyway somehow similar.
Many people crowded the streets and squares – in one of them they were holding a market – and there were many carts drawn by mules or manually, loaded with goods and provisions. Most traffic was going to or coming from the port, as Nerwen noticed after some time.
If the town was half so large than its counterpart in Dorwinion was, the port was instead equally vast. The Istar scrutinised the numerous ships of various tonnage moored at the long jetties, trying to locate the Feingwend.
Aryon headed for a low and large building, evidently the Harbourmaster's Headquarters. When Nerwen and the prince entered, the harbourmaster's orderly, an unusually massive Elf with dark eyes, his brown hair tied in a bun on top of his head, raised his gaze from the document he was reading. Recognising Aryon, he instantly stood up and bowed in greeting.
"Cunn Aryon!" he cried, talking in Avarin, then he noticed the woman accompanying the prince and switched to the Common Speech, "What brings you at Gaerlonn?"
"A search," Aryon answered laconically, "Is Captain Misselot here?"
"Surely, my prince, she's in her office," the Elf answered, "I'm going to announce you immediately."
Soon after, he led Nerwen and Aryon to the next room. Captain Misselot was relatively short, but she had an authoritative air appropriate to her position; her long hazelnut-brown hair was braided in a tress hanging down on her shoulder, while her green eyes sparkled with a lively light: as a whole, Nerwen liked her much.
Misselot stood up to greet them:
"Welcome, Lord Aryon," she said, bowing; she spoke in the Common Speech, as her orderly had informed her there was a foreigner accompanying the queen's First Sword. Now she openly gazed at the young woman.
Aryon introduced them; hearing the title the Green, the captain arched one eyebrow: probably she had no idea what it meant, but she didn't comment on it.
"What can I do for you, my prince?" she enquired instead. Aryon turned to the Maia:
"Lady Nerwen…," he said, inviting her to speak.
"I'm looking for a ship," she explained then, "The Feingwend, owned by Captain Corch."
Misselot nodded:
"Yeah, she arrived the day before yesterday. Let me see where she's docked…," she browsed through a large leather-bound journal, laying on one side of her desk, "There she is: at the end of pier number 12," she watched again Aryon, then Nerwen, "My lady, I must ask you what business you have with Captain Corch," she said, in an apologising but firm tone: it was plain she was very dutiful, and she wouldn't make exceptions, not even for somebody under the protection of the queen's brother.
"Let's say he has in his keeping some belongings of mine that I intend to retrieve," Nerwen answered; her sentence had been diplomatic and revealed nothing, but her tone had an underlying dangerous tone that made Misselot's hair stand on end. The captain glanced at Aryon, but the prince just nodded in an encouraging way.
"Very well," Misselot therefore said, "You can go."
"Thank you, Captain Misselot," Nerwen said, appreciating her cooperation.
They exited and set forth on foot; their horses remained in the custody of an operator of the Port Authority, so the entire escort could go with the Istar and Aryon.
Calad, worrying for Thilgiloth and Thalion and wanting to find them as soon as possible, took off and followed her friend; a few minutes later, they reached the quay marked with the number 12 and they walked down it; the Feingwend was docked at the far end.
As there was no guard – there was no need for it, as they were in friendly territory – Nerwen, Aryon and the six members of the escort got on board undisturbed, bus as soon as they set foot on the deck, a sailor recognised the Istar and shouted a warning call. Lieutenant Dolimavi came running and, seeing Nerwen, stopped abruptly, almost slipping on the newly waxed planks.
"You!" she cried, her eyes popping out, "I thought you were drowned!"
"As you see, I'm not," Nerwen said tersely, "I want to speak with Corch, now!"
Dolimavi withdrew a couple of steps, then she motioned to the mariner who called the alarm, and he dashed toward the quarterdeck.
Nerwen looked around: there was no sign of her horses, nor of the corral they were kept in during the journey. She pressed her lips together: if Corch had sold them, she would force him to tell her to whom he had and then she would go find and retrieve them by any means, and to the incautious buyer she would tell to go to the smuggler to get back his money.
Meanwhile, a good number of the Feingwend's sailors had gathered around them, positioning themselves all over the place, on the quarterdeck, on the deck, on the forecastle. Aryon motioned to his people; they notched their arrows to the strings, but did not bend their bows yet; as for him, the prince placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to unsheathe it. Calad, remembering the crossbows, went off and perched on a pole, out of sight of the mariners.
Corch arrived, taking big strides, walking with an arrogant attitude; but seeing the armed company, he slowed down, coming nearer hesitantly. Coward, Aryon thought, disgusted.
"Lady Nerwen…," the smuggler began, halting at a fair distance, "I didn't expect to see you again."
"Worse for you," she growled, "I'm here to retrieve my belongings. What about my horses, scoundrel?"
"Be a little more careful with insults," he said, unable to avoid behaving insolently and placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, "You're only eight, and we are twenty…"
Instantly, Aryon drew his sword and the other bent their bows, lifting and pointing them at the crewmembers.
"Beware your conduct," the prince warned Corch in a threatening tone, "I'm Aryon Morvacor, First Sword of Queen Eliénna, and Lady Nerwen is under my protection."
The smuggler captain paled: evidently, he had realised who he was facing. He withdrew his hand from his blade and opened his arms.
"Your horses are… gone, Lady Nerwen," he said.
"I can see that for myself," she replied, stinging as a porcupine, "Where are they?"
"I sold the packhorse to a merchant just this morning," Corch answered, "As for the mare, I don't know where she is."
"What do you mean?" the Istar insisted, frowning.
"She escaped," the captain explained, "This morning. When we led her ashore, she turned against my men, threw off those who held her and bailed. There was no way to stop her, she knocked down with her hooves anyone trying to stand in her way, included the city guards. She was unstoppable like a twister! She exited town and vanished. Actually, also the other horse tried to break free, but we were able to hold him…"
Nerwen kept her grim face, but inside she felt proud of her four-legged friends.
"I want the merchant's name," she said, crossing her arms and tapping impatiently her foot.
"Gailar Begalion," Corch answered at once: he had apparently concluded that cooperating was a wise move.
"Fine, and now I want my belongings," Nerwen said. The smuggler hesitated only the fraction of a second, then the nodded to Dolimavi, who rushed toward the quarterdeck. Shortly after, she and a few sailors arrived, carrying the Istar's luggage, and she inspected it carefully. Relieved, she found both the pipe Gandalf had given to her and the large galenas provision she purchased in Gobelamon. However, one thing was missing.
"My dagger," she said imperiously, planting herself in front of Corch. The Elf sighed deeply and bent down, pulling out the hunting knife from his boot and handing it to this minute but terrible woman. The presence of Aryon and his escort had been crucial, but the smuggler suspected that, even if she had been alone, she would nonetheless give him a very hard time.
Nerwen snapped the Noldorin dagger out of his hand and slipped it into her belt.
"Forty gold coins were not enough, for you?" she asked, venomously, "You wouldn't earn the same amount not even selling my horses, therefore I wonder what on Arda got into your dead head, to try and rob me."
"Twenty gold coins," Corch revealed, "The other twenty are Dronegan's reward, for having recommended you."
Nerwen blinked, having a hard time to understand the smuggler's words. Dronegan – the nice, polite innkeeper – was his accomplice! She trusted him, and he had sold her? She felt her face flush in anger, but also in shame: she had been fooled like a chicken! What good were her thousands of years and experience? The only excuse she could have, was that she knew little about the race of Men, and maybe this was the reason Dronegan had been able to fool her so completely. Anyway, excuse or not, the embarrassment would haunt her for a long time.
"Are we done?" asked Corch rudely, again incapable to control his overconfidence.
This was the last straw.
"No," Nerwen replied, seizing unexpectedly his head, one hand above, one on the side, "Your actions and your arrogance deserve a punishment."
She released an inverted flux of thaumaturgic energy: under her hands pulsed suddenly an unwholesome, greenish light and Corch shrieked. Dolimavi took a step forward, but the point of Aryon's sword, promptly aiming at her, dissuaded her to try any defensive move in favour of her captain. The sailors, too, stayed still, under the threat of the arrows.
Nerwen let go and withdrew; on Corch's cheek, where she had pressed her hand, a scarlet mark had appeared, while from his head, large locks of hair had fallen out, exposing the underlying scalp.
"Now, each time you'll look into the mirror, you'll remember Nerwen the Green," the Istar snarled, "reminding that you definitely don't want to make a Wizard angry, whether male or female."
She rubbed her hands, and the brown curls sticking to her palms fell on the planks; Corch, livid and speechless, took his head into his hands and fell on his knees. Dolimavi dashed to him.
Calad took off from the pole; still furious because of the way Corch had treated her friends, both the two-legged one and the four-legged ones, she retaliated in her own fashion, throwing an excrement right to the smuggler's head. The victim yelled in vain a range of curses to the hawk, while Nerwen and the Elves escorting her burst into laughter, making Corch's humiliation complete.
Calad simply ignored his insults and withdrew, satisfied, and perched on one of the bollards of the jetty, at a safe distance from possible retaliation from the crossbow-armed mariners.
On Aryon's signal, two of the Elves of the escort picked up Nerwen's luggage, then the group marched down the gangway, the prince with his sword drawn and four archers with their arrows still notched to the strings walking backwards, in order not to lose sight of the crew. Once on the wharf, they quickly walked away.
"I'm curious," Aryon told Nerwen, sheathing his sword, "Why did you choose that particular form of punishment?"
"I've noticed how much vain Corch is," she answered, shrugging. The prince smirked, amused despite of himself:
"You've been pretty wicked, I'd say," he commented.
"I'm not a revengeful person," she said, "but when it's called for…"
"From what you told me, he undoubtedly deserved it," Aryon confirmed. Nerwen nodded:
"Let's look for this Gailar Begalion," she exhorted him, changing subject, "to retrieve Thalion; then we'll search for Thilgiloth."
Returning to the Harbourmaster's Headquarters, they retrieved their mounts and got back in town. Here they asked around, and they addressed them to a stable in the western quarter of Gaerlonn.
The horse merchant protested vehemently:
"I paid good money for that horse and I'm not going to let nobody taking it, not even the First Sword of the Queen! Now I'll call for the bailiff…"
"Do it," Aryon invited him, a baleful expression in his face, "Just know, before doing so, that that horse won't be found on the cargo manifest of the Feingwend and will therefore be held as smuggled goods. Do you know the penalty for those who import illegally from Dorwinion to Eryn Rhûn?"
Gailar paled; Nerwen guessed it had to be a very hard punishment.
"I see I haven't got no choice," the unhappy trader grumbled, "but how do I know the lady is for good the owner of that animal?"
"Is my word not good enough for you?" Aryon sneered, intolerant at seeing his authority defied. He seemed ready to draw his sword and skewer the poor merchant on the spot, so Nerwen intervened to avoid the argument going bad.
"No, he's right," she said, "Gailar, I think you're a honest person and that you've been fooled by that rogue Corch. I'll demonstrate to you that Thalion is truly my packhorse."
She extended her thoughts inside the stables and immediately found the faithful animal's mind, who neighed, excited and happy and reared up inside his box. The groom ran to him, worried, but Gailar signalled to him to forget it and stared at Nerwen, wide eyed.
"It's him, isn't he?" she said, entering the stables and heading without fail toward the fifth box on the left, where she truly found Thalion who, seeing her, neighed again and stuck out his head to get a caress.
"Yes, that's it," Gailar admitted reluctantly, definitely defeated. Nerwen turned to him:
"Where's his harness?" she asked peremptorily.
They found it inside the box; after retrieving them, the Istar came out of the stable with Thalion in tail, without any need to lead him by the bridle.
"But my money…" the horse merchant ventured to ask, faintly.
"Ask Corch," Nerwen replied, wryly, "and next time, make sure that what you buy is actually legal merchandise."
Aryon came beside her and glared at Gailar in such a way, he felt instantly dissuaded to raise more objections.
Shortly after, they exited town; the baggage had been loaded again on the sturdy packhorse, who followed very closely his mistress, afraid someone could separate him from her again.
"How will you trace your mare?" Aryon asked to Nerwen. The Aini watched carefully around, uncertain about which direction she had to choose. Thilgiloth could have gone everywhere. No, she thought then, not everywhere: she knew Nerwen would come for her and therefore she would stay in proximity of Gaerlonn, even if not as near as to be seen from the town.
"We'll move in wider and wider arcs away from Gaerlonn," she therefore answered the prince's question, "I'll call for her, and when she hears me, she'll come to us."
Hence, they moved as the Istar had told them, going first eastward – that is, in the opposite direction from which they had come – then entered a short way into the forest and came back; in short intervals, Nerwen sent out her thoughts seeking Thilgiloth's. After a while, Aryon was about to ask her, perplexed, why she wasn't calling, having assumed she would use her voice, but seeing an expression of deep concentration on her face, he realised she was using her mind, as she had done with Calad on the first day, when they had met, or better, argued.
Considering the way their acquaintance had begun, the prince pondered, they could have been ending up slaughtering each other, verbally, if not by knives; and instead, now they were side by side searching for a missing mare. This could be the prelude to an interesting friendship, he concluded. If she would prove trustful, that is, which he still wasn't completely convinced of.
A few hours passed; when it became too dark in the forest to go on with the search, they stopped and set camp. They spent a quiet night, and as soon as there was enough light, they resumed the search. Not two hours had passed, and finally Nerwen contacted Thilgiloth's mind; perceiving her, the Chargeress expressed joy and relief, and soon after they saw her arriving at full gallop, like a bright white flash among the trees.
Glancing at her, the Avari's eyes widened: never had they seen such a splendid horse.
Nerwen jumped off Kerfin, the stallion carrying her, and ran toward Thilgiloth. Thalion and Calad did the same, and so the amazed Elves of Eryn Rhûn witnessed the reunion of four friends very different from one another.
Nerwen threw her arms around the Chargeress' neck, and she lowered her head on the Maia's shoulder, reciprocating her; with his nose, Thalion patted her on her side; and Calad flitted about excitedly, throwing joyfully her cry kek-kek-kek.
We knew you'd come for us, Thilgiloth transmitted to Nerwen, but when that Corch rascal tried to sell us, we were afraid you wouldn't be able to find us again, therefore I thought better for us to run, she turned to the packhorse, I'm sorry I abandoned Thalion, but I realised he wasn't with me only after having exited town.
"You've been great," Nerwen told her, "and Thalion, too, who not being able to follow you, has feigned resignation, but he told me that at the first opportunity he'd escape, too," she patted both on their sides, "You did very well, my friends."
A ryon recovered from his bewilderment; he got off his horse and approached them.
"If I didn't know you talk to animals – and trees – I'd think I'm hallucinating," he said, in his voice a reluctant tone of respect. Nerwen turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling and a dazzling smile on her lips; Aryon couldn't but think she was charming.
"Meet Thilgiloth," she told him, "Thilgiloth, this is Aryon Morvacor, prince of the Avari, and I hope I can call him soon a new friend."
At these courteous words, Aryon bowed his head to thank her: being the brother of the High Sovereign of the Six Tribes of the Avari, he hadn't to spend words often in thanking people, except the queen herself, but of course good manners sometimes imposed over him, too; and this was certainly one of those times.
"It's a superb specimen," he claimed, admiring Thilgiloth, "I've never seen a coat of such a shiny white: it looks like silk. Is she a mearh of Rohan?"
"She is," Nerwen confirmed, "And as all mearas, she's extremely clever."
"They say they're the most beautiful palfreys in the world… and now that I see one, I can't but agree. Legend has it that it was Oromë Aldaron taking mearas to Middle-earth," Aryon said, showing to know well this race of horses: indeed, it had been the Vala Oromë, also called the Great Rider, who relocated some of them from Valinor to Endor, where they had proliferated. Then, Aryon seemed to remember something and turned to stare at Nerwen with his bright blue eyes, which looked as if they were able to punch a hole in a stonewall.
"I thought mearas accepted to carry only the kings of Rohan," he said; suspicion was slithering back in his voice. Unprepared, for a moment Nerwen couldn't answer: now here was something she didn't know… Either Gandalf didn't know it, or he forgot telling her.
"Thilgiloth is the exception," she answered, trying to sound casual, "She accepted me because I have the ability to speak to her, but also because we met when she was a just small foal, and we bonded."
This was strictly the truth, even if Aryon could never imagine that this had occurred in Aman and not in Middle-earth.
"I see," the prince nodded, recalling her telling him that both Calad and Thalion accompanied her out of friendship, and didn't consider her a mistress, nor she considered them her property. As far as he knew, it could be true that even a mearh would join this woman who was able to speak to animals and plants, "Fine," he went on, "as we retrieved your belongings and your friends, at this point, as agreed, I'll take you to Bârlyth, to the presence of Queen Eliénna."
He watched her intently, waiting for a signal of confirmation or dissent, on the basis of which he would react: if she would even just hint to not keeping her word, he wouldn't hesitate a minute to do what he had threatened, that is, to tie her up and compel her to hold her promise; indeed, he still didn't withdraw his orders to the archers to be ready and aim their bows at her, if need should be.
However, Nerwen never gave her word lightly, and when she did, she kept it, at any cost.
"Sure," she said, "Give me just the time to saddle Thilgiloth, and we'll go."
From the baggage they retrieved from Corch, she took the Chargeress' harness, prepared her and finally mounted. She approached the roan stallion they borrowed her and bent to caress his neck.
"Thank you for carrying me so far, Kerfin," she told him. The stallion snorted and shook his tail gently.
My pleasure, he answered.
By now, Aryon and the other Elves of the escort had begun to get used at the Istar talking to animals – and at them actually understanding her – therefore they didn't stare in disbelief anymore.
The prince, too, mounted on his black stallion, and so the small company set forth, heading for Bârlyth, the residence of the High Sovereign of the Six Tribes of the Avari, and capital city of the realm of Eryn Rhû, too.
OOOO
Author's corner:
I had a great time mistreating Corch, the first hostile Elf Nerwen has to do with… Nerwen could teach a good lesson to Dolimavi, too, who was responsible for her wounding, but after all the First Officer was only executing orders, and the actual guilty party is the smuggler captain.
I am writing with all my passion and enjoying it much, and I hope you're having a good time in reading my fan fiction; if so, please let me know, I love feedback from my readers!
Lady Angel
