Hello Everyone! I hope everyone had a great Holiday. I know its been a while, but things have been crazy with family and traveling. The next couple chapters are going to jump around a bit since I feel like detailing every detail of Nemir's life would be too much for me to write and you to read.I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 14
Nemir took a deep breath as she smoothed her skirt impersonating pants and light grey blouse before entering The Dented Shield. The sun was slowing sinking toward the horizon so the common room was mostly empty. She spotted Morfindir sitting at a table with Capt. Berenor, Harthon, Amathion, and a few other unknown soldiers. They cheered as she approached the table and a bashful blush spread across her cheeks, "I haven't earned your applause yet," she said trying to quiet the men.
"We're simply offering you some encouragement. Not that you need it," replied Morfindir with a welcoming smile and a quick hug.
"And celebrating a chance to put Harthon's money to good use!" exclaimed Amathion before lifting his tankard of beer and downing the contents in a few large gulps.
"You better be worth it bard," grumbled Harthon but he had a slight twinkle in his eye that let her know he wasn't as sour as he appeared.
"I have prepared a few specific pieces I would like to perform, but I will be taking requests as well. I only ask that you wait till after I become settled," she said flashing them a smile as she shifted satchel on her shoulder.
"Be warned that some songs requested in establishments such as these can be… crude in nature," warned Capt. Berenor with a fatherly tone.
"I'm sure soldiers are no worse than sailors or fishermen," she said, " I'm optimistic concerning the manners of Gondor's finest."
"If anyone gives you trouble don't hesitate to fetch one of us," the captain insisted motioning to the men at the table.
"Aye, aye, captain," she placed her hand over her chest in a salute. "I better get settled before more people arrive. I hope you all enjoy." She walked to the front of the room where a large stone fireplace burned. A simple three legged stool sat at the center of the small clearing surrounded by a half moon of tables. She adjusted her bright blue cloak around her as she took a seat. She carefully unpacked her harp and admired the way the flames reflected in the mother of pearl causing a rainbow to gleam and dance. Balancing the instrument upon her thigh and chest, she experimentally ran her hand across the strings, and the notes calmed any remaining jitters. She played a couple simple tunes to awaken the strings and stretch her fingers before starting her first song. Keeping her audience in mind, she chose a song full of danger and adventure.
Far, far beyond the island
We dwelt in shades of twilight
Through dread and weary days
Through grief and endless pain
It lies unknown
The land of mine
A hidden gate
To save us from the shadow fall
The lord of water spoke
In the silence
Words of wisdom
I've seen the end of all
Be aware the storm gets closer
Mirror Mirror on the wall
True hope lies beyond the coast
You're a damned kind can't you see
That the winds will change
Mirror Mirror on the wall
True hope lies beyond the coast
You're a damned kind can't you see
That tomorrow bears insanity
Her fingers flew in a blur across the strings as she continued to sing the tale of Turgon and the creation of Gondolin with the help of Ulmo. Even if they were unfamiliar with the tale, she hoped they would connect to the adventureous themes. When the song concluded, she lifted her head from her harp and her eyes instantly focused on the table to observe their reactions. It was unnaturally quiet as the men sat like statues their eyes wide. The only exception was Morfindir, who sat leaned back, arms crossed, with a beaming smile.
"Was it not enjoyable?" she asked uncertain.
Her question broke the spell they were under, and the room erupted into cheers, and whistles. She looked around and found that the inn's staff had appeared to watch as well, and they added to the applause. She stood and made a deep bow to thank the small audience as a large grin spread across her face.
"Damn Morfindir," said Amathion his eyes glued to Nemir, eyebrows raised, "You weren't exaggerating. If anything, you undersold her skill."
He chuckled slightly and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "You never would have believed me until you experienced it for yourself."
"I'm sorry we ever doubted you," he said finally turning his head away from the bard. "You could tell me the girl could fly at this point and I would believed you."
"Try to show some decorum, Amathion," snorted Harthon, "I know this is well above your usual standards, but at least try to pretend you have some breeding."
Amathion just rolled his eyes, "I saw your jaw hit the floor the moment she sang her first note."
Harthon responded with a grunt and a glare, crossing his arms, "I admit it was unexpected, but at least I'm not blathering like a simpleton." Amathion easily brushed off his fellow soldier's comment, with a chuckle. He was used to Harthon's prickly attitude.
"Hush your chatter," interrupted with a gruff shout, "You two bicker like two old ladies, and the lass is about to begin another tale." The Captain's prompting caused a frazzled rush of soldiers struggling to find seats as Nemir resumed plucking her harp.
The the tables filled as the evening continued. Hungry men shuffled in from their daily duties to find a warm meal, decent ale, and a little merriment. The clanking of plates and tankards along with increasing chatter, challenged her. She settled with an instrumental performance, until the majority of guests had finished their dinners and became more settled. The room faded away as she focused on her harp and the music that flowed from it. She selfishly recalled the tunes of her childhood, and time slipped from her.
"I didn't come here to listened to lullabyes," the booming voice yanked her from her trance. She tilted her head upward to find a burly man sporting an impressive beard towering above her.
"Would you like to make a request?" she asked unfazed.
"I doubt a delicate thing like you, can do it justice," he stared down his nose at her, his mouth downturned, "This isn't a garden party."
She smirked, "If you are unsatisfied, I'll buy a round for you and your men."
"Deal! Gather round lads," he proclaimed motioned to his compatriots, "success or failure, we will be entertained either way,"
"I'm still waiting to hear the title of your request," she added.
"Tell us the story of Eärendil," he said.
"I challenge to be sure for his is a long and eventful tale, but I think I can manage," she waved her nimble fingers and began the ballad. The Song of Eärendil was one of her favorites and told to her often by her mother, who had the honor of meeting him a couple times. She made a gamble, and performed it using the older Sindarin translation, because she believed the Common tongue lost some of the nuances. She wasn't exaggerating when she told the man it would be a time consuming performance, elves loved their languages and always found a way to add as much flowery wording as possible. When the song concluded, the room was unusually quiet and she was instantly reminded of reaction she received earlier that evening.
"That was...," the large man paused as he wiped a single tear from his eye. "I had heard rumors of the beauty of elvish song, but I always thought them exaggerations till now. Thank you for sharing this with us.I swear I could almost smell the salt and feel the wind in the sails."
Nemir's body stiffened at his words. Was he assuming she was a Edhel or was he commenting on her language choice? She thought it best to ignore the comment and not ask him to clarify.
"You are most generous," she said gathering her harp as she stood from her stool. "If you excuse me, I must take a short break. I am quite parched."
"Of course! Let me fetch you the best wine this hole can offer," he exclaimed as he motioned to a serving girl.
"That's not necessary," she tried interjecting, but he ignored her objections. He continued to chatter on about how impressed he was with her talent, especially for a young woman. He also provided her with a long lists of requests, and she simple smiled and nodded tiredly. When the wine did arrive, she seized the goblet before making her escape, promising to consider his list.
As she returned to Morfindir's table, she spotted a brightly dressed couple approaching her. "Walden! Finna!" she rushed forward to embrace her friends, "I thought you had already left the city with the other traveling performers."
"We postponed our journey by a day or two so we wouldn't miss your official debut," explained Finna. "And I'm glad we did."
"I'll never again be able to perform The Song of Eärendil, for I know it will forever pale in comparison," pouted Walden dramatically.
"This means so much. Thank you. Come let me introduce you to Morfindir. He helped me arrange this opportunity."
"Oh, we finally get to meet this mysterious friend of yours," Finna's eyes sparkled with curiosity. Nemir simply rolled her eyes and guided them to the table.
She was yet again met with a round of applause, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks. "Your support is much appreciated," she said as the soldiers quieted. "I have some fellow performers I want you to meet. This is Finna and Walden. They were kind enough to guide me when I arrived in the city."
"I am forever grateful to you both," said Morfindir as he rose to great them.
"Ah, you must be Morfindir," said the female bard with a sly smile, "Nemir has told us so much about you."
"She has?"
"Oh, yes. She began her search for you as soon as she arrived," she said.
"Well I did promise to meet him here. I wouldn't be much of a friend if I hadn't," she said slightly elbowing Finna's side.
"Yes...friend," she continued to smile like a fox in the hen house, "You must tell me about your time growing up together."
"Not much to tell. Fish Farm is a very dull place. It's one of the reasons we chose to leave," he shrugged.
"I have to return to the stage. Try not to interrogate him," Nemir said, downing her wine and heading back to her stool.
The rest of the night was much of the same, and she was able to earn a decent sized collection of copper and silver coins. Master Himon was also pleased with her performance and stated that she was welcome anytime. The entire experience left her feeling very accomplished and relieved. This was hopefully the first step toward earning a somewhat consistent income and earning a positive reputation for herself that will draw patrons.
"Are you leaving in the morning?" Nemir asked Finna as they stood outside the tavern in the cool night air. She had already bid the guards good night, but Morfindir, who insisted on escorting her back to her room, waited down the street for her as she said her goodbyes.
"Bright and early," she said with a frown.
"We plan to travel to Minas Tirith as quickly as possible with a trader caravan. Traveling alone is becoming more dangerous by the year," explained Walden shaking his head.
"We hope to eventually travel farther north to Rohan," she continued, "and visit some of Walden's family. Do you plan on staying in Dol Amroth?" her eyes flickered toward Morfindir with a knowing smile.
"For the time being. I feel like I have much to learn here and a growing circle of friends."
"Yes...friends. I'm not sure if you are purposefully being naive or if you really are that blind," said Finna leaning toward her. "Surely you see the way he looks at you?"
Nemir felt a stone fall in the pit of her stomach, "I…I've held suspicions that he's retained feelings for me."
"And? How does this make you feel?"
"I don't know," she sighed, "There was something between us all those years ago, but the situation was… complicated between his family and me. He was forced to leave and I had to stay. I think we both need time to become acquainted with the adults we have become."
"I see. Well only time will tell if this garden shall grow, but don't neglect it for too long or it might wither," she said.
"When do you plan to return?" Nemir asked.
"If all goes well," answered Walden, "we should be here for the next year's Yaviere celebration, and I expect by then you will be the most popular bard in the city."
"I doubt that, but your confidence is encouraging. I will miss you both," she reached out and embraced the couple, "Na lû e-govaned vîn savo 'lass a lalaith."
"What does that mean?"
"Until next we meet, have joy and laughter."
"I wish the same to you Nemir," Finna gave her a final squeez before releasing her and the couple walked down the street and into the night.
Nemir studied the dull grey door that she suspected had once been bright blue many years ago. The wood was as smooth as a sea stone and any splinters had long been removed by the elements and continual contact with human hands. She prayed to Ulmo that she had the right address as she reached up and firmingly knocked three times with her knuckle. She waited nervously as she strained to hear sounds of shuffling feet. The door opened quickly with a loud creek.
"Good Morning. Are you ? My name is Nemir and Mr. Himon from the Dented," her verbal flood was suddenly cut off. A lean wrinkled hand struck like a viper, grabbing her face and forcing it and her body downward. The lady was obviously advanced in age with bright white hair, a slightly bent back, and deep wrinkles. She turned and shifted Nemir's face in her surprisingly strong hand as she closely examined her visitor. At such a close distance Nemir noticed the green of her eyes was diminished by a cloudy film.
"You're younger than I expected," the elderly woman released her, and she couldn't help but rub her jaw and cheeks to lessen the effect of her grip. The lady turned and nimbly hobbled her way back into the house leaving a flustered Nemir standing in the doorway. "Come along. I can't waste time at my age," Gollel ordered without looking back. Nemir crossed the threshold, closing the door behind her, and cautiously stepped into a modest kitchen and dining area. The small fireplace still held embers from breakfast and a well worn table with four hand carved chairs sat nestled in a corner. The walls and floor were constructed of stone and mortar like most buildings in the city. A single window provided some light and the only form of decoration came from a portrait so covered in soot the face was concealed.
"Himon told me that you were looking to rent a room. Is that correct?" Gollel settled down into a padded chair positioned close to the dying flames.
"Yes ma'am,"
"I don't have much to offer. So if you are looking for frivolous extravagance, you best look elsewhere" the elderly woman's voice was firm and stronger than her frail appearance.
"I only wish for a warm, dry bed, and a place I can safely story my few belongings. Nothing more."
She huffed, "I've become too old to climb the stairs so I keep to the ground," she motioned to a door Nemir had missed before. "There is a room up there, but it has remained unused and uncleaned for several years. If you possess the will to make it habitable again, it's yours for 8 gold a month."
"Thank you!" relief flooded through her. She only had a couple days left at the inn, and the fees were deplenishing her coin quicker than she liked.
"Don't be thanking me yet," the woman interrupted, "You haven't seen it. Go up and take a look, before you accept anything."
Nemir carefully climbed the steep stone steps, leaving the light from the window behind. She understood why the older woman refused to use the second floor as she traversed through the dark that would be inpeterable to mortal eyes. She reached a door coated in a thick layer of dust. It took a few forceful turns to loosen handle, and as she slowly pushed the door forward she was welcomed by a painful screech of hinges. The room was dark but she could make out a few vague shapes that she assumed was furniture. She slowly stepped toward what she hopped was a window leaving a trail of prints. Pushing the fabric aside released an explosion of dust causing her to sneeze and cough. The window was covered in grim, but enough light escaped through to provide her with a better view of the space. It was a simple room as the lady had said, about the same size as the one at the inn. The mattress would have to be replaced, but the furniture seemed intact. It would take some work and a lot of cleaning but it should do nicely.
Nemir had spent the better part of the week working on her new home. Washing linens, re-stuffing the mattress, dusting, scrubbing, and sweeping. She only paused to return to The Dented Shield to resupply her funds. Gollel seemed pleased with her progress, though she couldn't see the room itself she commented each time Nemir traveled down the stairs covered in dust and debris.
She carefully placed her spare clothing into the wardrobe and turned to observe her work. Light streamed into the now clear window, and she was thankful for the curtain currently pulled to one side. It was a faded with age, but free of dust and webs. The bed was larger than she was used to, with wooden posts carved with images of swans. A woven rug provided some warmth to the floor since it lacked a fireplace. Lucky for her, the cold didn't affect her much. She smiled, a sense of pride and accomplishment welling up within her. Wait till Morfindir saw the progress she made. He wanted to help, but a scouting mission was keeping him out of the city for two weeks, and she couldn't have waited that long. She collapsed onto her bed for a well deserved nap.
Nemir shifted the stack of awkwardly sized books that struggled to escape her arms. She placed her chin on top in an attempt to stabilize the structure, as she attempted to find her way back to her table. The rows upon rows of shelves turned the grand library into a maze, and she was having trouble navigating it.
"Let me help you with that," a familiar voice volunteered behind her and she turned to find Lord Faramir approaching, arms outstretched.
"Lord Faramir, that isn't necessary. I'm not far from my table...I think."
"I insist," he carefully slid half of her stack into his own arms, taking care not to drop the precious papers. "I've been visiting this library for years, and I still find myself lost amongst the shelves on occasion."
"Thank you, my Lord. My table should be near a collection of poems," she said feeling slightly embarrassed.
"That's not far from here. I'll guide you," his long strides confidently navigated through the maze and Nemir quickened her step to keep up. "Does this area look familiar?" he asked.
"Yes, that's my pile over there," she answered walking to the table and adding to the collection.
"This could rival my own table. What are you researching?" he asked as he placed the remaining books down.
"Well I was inspired by your own studies. My mother instructed me on the history of Dol Amroth, but I wanted to compare it to the records kept by the city itself." This was only partially true as her mother's account was created from personal experience as she witnessed the creation and growth of the city. She was actually searching for any written account that mentioned the Oaritsi. She knew that the occasional interaction occurred in the early days, and wondered if they were recorded as fact in mortal memory.
"I'm impressed. I'm certain you will have better luck than me. After of hours of frustrating failure, I made very little progress with the Telerin document."
"Well tales of the past are the main source of my bread and butter," she said with a small smile, "If you need some assistance, do not hesitate to ask. I could use the practice."
"I remember you mentioning a performance. Did it go well?
"I believe so. The customers of The Dented Shield seemed very pleased and the owner offered me an open invitation," she said as she organized her collection.
"The Dented Shield?" his face twisted with confusion, "I've heard many soldiers mention that establishment, but it doesn't seem like a venue suitable for a lady such as yourself."
"Well I have to start building my reputation somewhere, and the owner was kind enough to give me the opportunity."
"Shouldn't your mentor have arranged your debut? Perhaps at a the feast or a party hosted by his . I admit that I am not familiar with the traditions of the musical arts, but a tavern seems...below you," his words left Nemir feeling puzzled.
"I think you are mistaken, my Lord. I have no teacher or mentor," she explained.
Her statement caused his eyebrows to rise in mild surprise, "I hope I don't seem too forward, but how did you learn…" he motioned toward the table.
"My family taught me. I've had lessons since I was young" she stated as if it was obvious.
"Of course, I should have guessed it's a family trade," he said confusion evaporating, "Would I have witnessed them perform either here or back home?"
Nemir blinked and tilted her head, brow furrowed, "Only if you worked with my father on his fishing boat or visited my home."
Faramir's face fell, "Fishing?" His inquiry was cut short when a loud voice carried through the library, "Faramir!". The sound of his name had the young lord cupping his face in his palms with embarrassment. "You would think he'd never been in a library before."
"You brother didn't strike me as scholarly type," laughed Nemir.
"There you are Faramir," Boromir appeared from behind a shelf, "I knew I would find you hiding amongst these dusty shelves." He spotted Nemir and smiled, "Though perhaps it wasn't only the books that kept my brother occupied."
"It may be hard for you to believe, but some people have interests that extend beyond themselves," she huffed, crossing her arms.
"I wonder which is sharper, that tongue of yours or the blades you carry?"
"If you every wish to find out, I would be more than willing to provide you with a demonstration," she challenged with a smirk. She didn't understand the effect the man had on her. His presence was both frustrating and invigorating.
Faramir stepped between the feuding couple, "What is your purpose here Boromir?".
Boromir tore his eyes away from the bard and back to his brother, "I received a letter from father. He expects us to return home sooner than expected. We have a fortnight to prepare a force and return to the city."
Faramir's shoulders deflated with the news, "I was enjoying our time here. I hate to cut it short, but I'm sure Father wouldn't order it if it wasn't necessary." He turned to Nemir, "I would like to hear you perform before I leave. Would you oppose to performing at our farewell feast?"
"I would be honored my lord," she said attempting to keep her voice calm as excitement bubbled within.
"Thank you. I look forward to it," said Faramir before following his brother toward the exit.
"Are you going to explain what that was about?" asked Boromir a mischievous glint in his eye. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were smitten by that wild cat disguised as a woman."
"My motivations are not so crass. I simply wish to learn more about her" he stated trying to ignore his brothers playful looks.
"Yes, and I'm certain her fair face doesn't enter into it."
"How many commoners have you encountered that can read and write Common and at least two elvish languages?" Faramir asked.
"None. My struggles with that blasted language are familiar to you. I'm grateful father never pushed the subject" answered his brother.
"Exactly," he replied, "There is more to this woman than meets the eye."
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. How is the pacing? I'm struggling at the moment because I know where I want the story to go, but the transition is giving me some trouble. Am I providing too much detail? Not enough detail? Am I a making the reader fill in too many blanks? Feedback is always appreciated.
The song referenced is "Mirror Mirror" from Blind Guardian's Nightfall in Middle Earth Album. It's one of my favs and I recommend it.
