CHAPTER IV

—Hrysívë—

A few days before Mairon's visit, he had sent over a handmaid in place of Atharys, who had to return to his regular duties rather than watching me brooding and moping. Her name was Eressë, and after a hint of inquiry I soon learned that she was a courtesan, and would continue to attend to that duty while she served me. I had no say in the matter, apparently, so I let it alone for now. I summoned her over now and stood by my window, my hands clasped together, as I waited. It was half an hour before noon—when the council meeting was arranged to take place.

"You called for me, my lady?" Eressë had entered the chamber quietly and bowed her head as she spoke.

I turned from my place by the window and lifted my chin; yes, I remembered—I had to play the part of Hrysívë, Princess of Morinórë. The mask had to be so powerful and convincing that it would meld into me. I could not take the mask off, not for a long time yet.

"I am called Your Highness," I said, my voice cold. "For I am the Princess of Morinórë, do you not agree, Eressë?"

Her head jerked up at the mention of her name, then she immediately bowed down again. I could tell from her demeanour that she was daunted. "Please forgive this one, Your Highness. This one's words slipped, that is all. Please punish this one as is righteous."

"I have no time for that." I strode over to the wardrobe, though my legs still burned and shook a little from their disuse. "Help me dress. I am going to the council meeting this afternoon."

Eressë hastened over, and though she looked down I could see her eyes were wide with fright. "As you command, Your Highness."

A little over a quarter of an hour later, I was making my way to the council room, clad in sapphire garb. The silver light from outside shone through the windows, but the sun was high, so half the corridor was still cast in shadow. Lanterns were held aloft by guards every dozen yards in this part of the tower, yet otherwise I was alone, and all was silent. I drifted past the guards as quietly as the clouds looming overhead, and they lowered their heads at my approach. And it was then I heard murmurs in the corridor and thus slowed my gait to hear.

"The former Númenórean lieutenant is still being imprisoned in the dungeons beneath Lond Daer," Atharys was saying. "I have questioned a few of the guards myself. They say it was his brother, the new Lord of Lond Daer who framed him and condemned him to this fate."

"Quite an intriguing story," Mairon said. "I hope you eliminated those guards."

I leaned forward and caught the glint of a candlelight in Atharys' eyes. "They died tragically to a mishap."

"This Númenórean," Mairon mused. "He could be an amusing pawn in our little game. Say nothing of this in the council."

"Say nothing of what?" I inquired, walking into the corridor. I smiled at both of them and inclined my head. "Greetings, my lords."

Mairon scowled at me. "Keep your silence on the matter, Hrysívë."

I bowed again, none too mockingly. "As you command, my lord."

Mairon strode into the council room without another word, but Atharys remained, looking at me incredulously.

"Hith—" Atharys began.

"My name is Hrysívë and you will refer to me as Your Highness," I said.

He wholly ignored that. "I didn't think you would come."

"I doubt our dear father did, either." I beckoned him toward the door. "In after you."

Atharys smirked, imitating my gesture. "Ladies first."

I laughed, though there was no humor in my voice. I had to force it into my expression so they would all be deceived, each one of them. Better be accustomed to this role now, or the game could go awry. "This one knows his manners."

It was only a matter of minutes before all the rest of the council began filing in the chamber. Mairon's seat was at the head of the table though he was not present at the moment; he had vanished by the time Atharys and I had entered the chamber. I took my seat on the left of Mairon's place as Atharys took the right.

The first to come was an Avar eunuch by the name of Lord Undanya—Atharys informed me of all their names and titles through ósanwë as they entered. In their respective orders of arrival, there was Undanya, Nínquë, Tiríssë, Angaino, and Hestáryn. They were a pleasant mix of the races of the Eldalië, Avari, and Maiar.

Is this all of them? I asked Atharys through ósanwë.

He flicked his eyes to the door. There are two more. . .two Easterling newcomers. They have sworn their allegiance only recently. This will be their third council meeting, I believe.

More than I.

Atharys made to answer but stopped, for the two Easterlings strode through the doorway, in a single file. The one in front nodded at some of the other lords then locked eyes with me. I noted that he was, in fact, quite young—only sixteen, if I had to guess. But there was a sudden flicker of something wild and passionate in his widening eyes, and I frowned at the expression.

The Easterling boy leapt forward. "You."

Lord Angaino, the older Easterling who had long been in Morinórë's court, stood. "Is there a problem, Lord Khamûl?"

But the Easterling boy continued to walk forward, shaking his finger at me. "You."

"Stand down, Lord Angaino. I will take care of this boy," I said, then turned to the one called Khamûl. "Have we met?"
Khamûl drew in a shaking breath and an unreadable emotion flashed and froze in his eyes, wavering in indecision. It was one of those moments when you suddenly remembered something terrible that you seemed to have forgotten for years on end although it was this very thing that drove you on through the bitter years. There was utter shock upon his face, and anger, and sadness too, a blend of consolation and suffering. I watched these things fly through his face, all while wearing the cold mask of Hrysívë, and it was in this very moment that I reached out with ósanwë to his thoughts, seeking what recollections he had of me. . .

Beneath a veil of diaphanous silver—there was a boy, scarcely eleven, helting up a crossbow to defend his father's life. An elleth stood before him, holding a dagger to his father's throat, an indifferent mask melded to her face. I closed my eyes. Hithaeglir. It had seemed too long ago, but times like this were difficult to forget. Yes, I remembered how I slit the throat of the boy's father and let his limp body flop off the crag to the Easterling camps hundreds of feet below. I remembered that utterly cold feeling of detachment in my eyes when I had been bent upon revenge, a mad ambition.

Then that expression vanished from his face, concealed under the part of chieftain he had to play. It was a dangerous game—one slip, and you would fall.

"Perhaps once before," Khamûl said, walking casually to his place at the council table, "but no more." He sat himself across from Angaino, and the Easterling that had been behind him took the seat beside him.

Atharys glanced at me. Killed anyone lately?

Evidently not. I jerked my chin to the Easterling beside Khamûl. Who is he?

A lesser chieftain under the command of Khamûl, Atharys told me. His name is Esgarin.

I cocked my head at the Easterling. He was young also, I realized, like Khamûl, who was only around sixteen or seventeen. This one had to be at least twenty, though. And it was then that Mairon came in through the doorway, last to arrive, his entrance perfectly timed. He came, however, just as Esgarin was whispering something treacherous to Angaino. I caught the words with little difficulty.

". . .bad luck to have a woman in court," Esgarin was saying.

"I'm sorry, Lord Esgarin?" I said innocently.

The Easterling's head shot up. "Did I say something? I don't recall."

"Is there a problem here?" Mairon inquired as he took his seat at the head of the table.

Esgarin stood and bowed to Mairon. "I was merely wondering who the newcomer here is and what part she may be playing in the court, my lord. I meant no harm."

An interesting smile curved onto Mairon's lips. "You, Lord Esgarin, are having the honor to meet Lady Hrysívë, Princess of Morinórë, my firstborn child."

The Easterling's mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish. "Oh," he said, stuttering. "I see. I am profoundly sorry if I have offended anyone, my lord." He hastened back to his seat.

All the others had similar expressions of surprise upon their faces, except for the one called Tiríssë, I noticed. He masked his thoughts well, and possessed a practiced cunning, as a Maia. Anger seeped back into Khamûl's eyes.

I should hope the situation improves, I told Atharys.

That would be ideal. Atharys flicked his eyes to Mairon as he began to speak.

They spoke of many trivial things that were not to my concern, yet I listened nonetheless. Every detail would assist me to better play this little game they were so insistent on playing. I noticed how Khamûl did not speak very much and kept his gaze down to the table most of the time. I wondered what plot he was conspiring to frame me before Mairon, to bring me down one day, and I did not blame him. I would have done the same; I had done the same, in fact, and I would do it again.

"Lord Khamûl," Mairon said. "How is the tribe of Hwestrach faring? How long will it be until they are conquered?"

"My lord," Khamûl began, "the Wainriders are struggling to conquer Insangar and his people. They are more powerful than we had foreseen, and I am afraid we will need more forces to triumph over them." Insangar was the chieftain of the tribe of Hwestrach, the largest tribe of Easterlings there was. Over the long years, Khamûl had managed to name himself Grand Chieftain of the Wainriders, yet there were others with this same dream. He unified numerous tribes under his own banner, but there was Insangar, his greatest rival.

"Hm," Mairon said. "Lord Tiríssë, what do you think of this matter?"

The Maia of vigilance called Tiríssë looked up. "My lord. . .I believe I will be able to lend my forces to Lord Khamûl to conquer Insangar. It seems that unless he has any more aid, we will not be able to have control over them."

"That would be beneficial, indeed." Mairon turned to the cocky young Sinda sitting beside me. "Lord Hestáryn, are you willing to lead these forces?"

"It would be my pleasure," Hestáryn drawled.

"Good," Mairon said. "Then the council is dismissed."

Some of them spoke a little amongst themselves after the meeting, but Mairon headed straight out, and Khamûl directly after him. Lord Undanya, the tongueless eunuch, sauntered out of the chamber leisurely; he had no one he could talk to. I saw Esgarin, the Easterling that had been with Khamûl, begin to depart the room, so I hurried up to him.

"Lord Esgarin," I said, inclining my head.

He halted, then turned back to me, forcing a polite smile on his face. "Greetings, Lady Hrysívë."

"You will refer to me as Your Highness, Lord Esgarin, or do you not agree that I am the Princess of Morinórë?" I gave him a coy smile.

Esgarin pressed his lips together. "Yes, of course, Your Highness. What is it that you desire?"

"I heard you have a tribe of your own here in Morinórë, yet lesser than that of Lord Khamûl," I mused.

"I do," Esgarin said stiffly. "Your Highness."

I leaned forward to whisper the words in his ear. "Have you seen a Sindarin girl with silver hair amongst your people?"

"I have no Quendi in my tribe. We are all proud Wainriders." He paused and sweetened his tone. "But, Your Highness, I will keep an eye out for this Sindarin girl for you, if you would like."

"Hm," I said. "That would be much appreciated."

"If I may be excused now, Your Highness." Esgarin bowed and made to leave, but I caught his arm.

"Lord Esgarin," I murmured. "Your loyalty would be pleasing to me. . .if you could say none of this to any others."

"As you command, Your Highness." Again he bowed then departed down the corridor.

A few moments after the Sinda Hestáryn appeared by my right. "Your Highness," he said by way of greeting.

"Lord Hestáryn." I found myself thinking if it was by chance that he had that smirk glued to his face.

"His Highness Atharys had spoken to me of your awakening. I hope you are feeling better now that you are attending council meetings," Hestáryn said.

"I am feeling much better now, thank you for your concern," I told him. "How are you doing yourself?"

"Quite pleasant, in fact, beside you," Hestáryn drawled. "I heard that you are very skilled in swordplay and the martial arts, Your Highness. May I have the honor to spar with you?"

I gave a bark of laughter. "Where did you hear that, Lord Hestáryn?"

He shrugged, his expression nonchalant, though I knew that these words had been planned. "I can't seem to remember. . .that's a pity."

"Quite a pity," I said. "It seems you made it up. I have somewhere to be, Lord Hestáryn. Perhaps I shall see you on the morrow." With that, I departed and left Hestáryn seething in the corridor.

—Naergon—

"Dolothen," Naergon said by way of greeting as he approached the scout Glorfindel had appointed to investigate the east.

Dolothen inclined his head, turning from where he had been preparing his horse. "Captain."

"If you are prepared, you may take your leave," Naergon told him. "How many are in your company?"

"Six, including myself," Dolothen said. "When we reach Eryn Galen, we will be sure to send a raven."

Naergon nodded. "Good. I wish you luck."

They had sent out five units in total—Dolothen's was set for Eryn Galen, two to explore the lands south of Eryn Galen, one for the lands south of Eriador, then one for Eregion. The ones set for Eryn Galen and Eregion would go south to investigate after they brought their message to those realms. The latter one was led by Elerondo, son of Elwing and Eärendil, who would remain in Eregion as the lieutenant of Gil-galad. Glorfindel himself would be set upon that route while Naergon stayed in Lindon to defend the king, though Gil-galad insisted otherwise. He had not ordered it to be so, however, so Glorfindel had Naergon stay.

Something must have gone very wrong for the Valar to have sent you back here, Gil-galad had said. Glorfindel had admitted to not knowing himself; Manwë would not tell him what had happened.

"We all know the wind cannot speak," Naergon had jested, but Glorfindel had lifted a finger to the wind howling outside and proved him otherwise.

Along with the reembodied Glorfindel, two Maiar who called themselves Istari had been sent over. Their names were Morinehtar and Rómestámo and they both wore garb that was such a sea-blue Naergon wondered if all they did in their free time was worship the Valar. These two Istari were to accompany those that were exploring the lands east of Hithaeglir.

It was scarcely dawn now as Naergon made his way back to his quarters. He was about to enter when a servant hurried up to him with a package in his hands.

"Lord Naergon," the servant said, bowing. "This is addressed to you, from Eregion."

"Eregion?" Naergon repeated incredulously. He regained himself and received the package. "Thank you for bringing this to me."

The servant hastened away as Naergon retreated into his quarters. The package was quite heavy, and when he sat down to look at it more closely, he realized that it was from Églanim after opening the note attached to it.

A gift, Églanim had written. A golden arm.

That was it. Naergon frowned and tore open the package. It was, indeed, an arm made out of pure gold.

"This is going to be heavy," Naergon muttered to himself, "but I thank you nonetheless." He glanced at the rusting metal arm he had been using.

Then when Naergon tried it on, he found that the golden arm moved to his will.