After her last lesson of the day Mírimë again turned her thoughts to the morning's lecture. She supposed Horëamo wanted the students to quickly form a decided opinion. Indeed, his story contained enough mentions of incompetency and bad behavior to clearly indicate who was the villain of the day and who was the hero. Or perhaps the victim. But she had her doubts. It seemed unbelievable to her that any sane elf would make light of a dangerous situation, or just leave his allies in such a situation to be slaughtered. If such behavior was normal amongst the exiles and the Moriquendi, there wouldn't be much left for the host of the Valar to save, wouldn't it?
While Mírimë pondered this, she failed to notice a silver-haired nís and inevitably collided with her.
"I'm so sorry," the Vanya exclaimed.
The other female started to say something in Sindarin, then stopped and said in Quenya:
„It's alright, nothing happened," smiled and continued on her way.
"Was that a Sinda wandering miles away from any deep forest? Anyway, it is probably not important," Mírimë thought a continued her brooding about Horëamo's tale.
If events occurred as the noble said, she would expect to come across at least one history book which ripped Mairacallo to small pieces. And the remaining three elves, Erdanon and his two followers, should be right in the next paragraph, labeled slayers of kin by inaction or too late action. But it was not so. Why?
There was also no mention of a Vanyarin healer saving those who seemed on their way to Mandos' halls, or a mention of a Vanyarin healer ending up as a victim of incompetency. A possibility of either commander misunderstanding the other was allowed neither. Mírimë imagined a military campaign was a very stressful business, during which such things can easily happen.
"I should stop my musings before I get a headache and behave unpleasantly to my parents' dinner guest as a result."
Anyone will agree that Mírimë's last thought was a sensible one. But as we all know, there is often a difference between what we do and what we should do. Such was the case with the young Vanya. Due to her thoughts about war long since past she was unusually quiet and her father, Aranon, couldn't help but notice.
"You look very thoughtful, Miri. Has master Calimórë given you difficult extra homework for your late arrivals?" Aranon asked.
"What? Oh. No, he didn't. But I was thinking about history. You see, Master Calimórë invited some noble named Horëamo to tell us about the War of Wrath and-"
"And he maligned Mairacallo, Erdanon, Elrond and perhaps some other commander of the Middle-Earth elves? And was there a story where a Vanyarin company was slaughtered and Erdanon just stood there and done nothing?" growled Avacauro, their guest and Aranon's long-time friend.
"Yes, there was such a story. Do you know some details about it?"
"Yes, I do. But there is much to say concerning that tragedy and the people involved, so I think it will be best if you came to my studio day after tomorrow, if your parents don't object."
"Not in the slightest," Aranon smiled. "Miri can also bring you those paints you ordered. The parcel should arrive from Tirion tomorrow. What do you think, Miri?"
"I will be glad to come and of course I will bring the paints," Mírimë agreed.
The conversation was followed by a moment of silence where all at the table savored their wine and the meal that Mírimë's mother Failindië had prepared. Avacauro leaned back in his chair and started to compliment the hostess, when a feminine shriek was heard from the street outside. All four elves stood and rushed out of the house to see what was happening.
Two néri were restraining a silver-haired nís who was struggling to free herself and a third nér was clutching a piece of white fabric in one hand while the other hand was pulling up the woman's skirt.
"Stop it at once!" Avacauro shouted and both he and Aranon advanced at the three elves. By now other people started to come out or look out of their windows. The trio dropped their captive on the ground and run away.
"At least we have a souvenir," shouted the one with the white cloth, waved it in the air and disappeared.
Both Mírimë's father and his friend were ready to follow them, but Failindië stopped them.
"Leave them. We had better help this poor thing, she is in shock. Aranon, help her inside. Avacauro, go to the kitchen and get a glass of wine. Miri, you go find... Miri! Are you listening?"
"Yes. What do you want me to find?"
"Find a clean dress and a blanket for our guest."
Mírimë nodded and followed her mother inside to do as she was asked. She was herself in a state of shock and disbelief. Assaults such as these didn't happen this side of the Sea. They occurred in the Middle-Earth, where they were committed by orcs and Men. No elf would even think to behave like this. Mírimë desperately wished to believe that all elves in Valmar had respect for each other and were above assaulting another just for fun, but after tonight such belief was impossible, because assault of another for fun was what she witnessed a while ago.
Footsteps were heard on the stairs and in the hall. Door opened and closed, shaking Mírimë from her stupor. She collected the clean dress and a blanket and headed for the guest-room where her mother could be heard as she tried to sooth their unexpected guest. When she stepped inside and looked at the face of the woman properly, she started. It was the Sinda she collided with earlier that day. Upon hearing her arrive, Failindië turned.
"You have the dress and the blanket? Good. You look as terrible as Avacauro. Go and have a glass of wine, I think I'll join you later."
Mírime thought her mother had made a sensible suggestion and went off. In the kitchen she found both her father and her friend. Avacauro was holding his own glass of wine and her father was deep in thought. Neither spoke as she joined them and they sat in silence for some time. When Failindië came down, Mírimë broke the silence.
"One of those who were restraining her takes history classes with me. And I bumped into the woman earlier today."
The other three were quiet for a while, then Avacauro reacted:
"I have noticed that the one who was pulling her skirt wore Lord Horëamo's livery. And I also recognize the woman, for I have painted a portrait of her some years ago when she was in Valmar with Lady Amarië visiting the latter's relatives. When this becomes public, those three attackers and Horëamo will have to deal with angry king Ingwë, even angrier king Arafinwë and enraged mob of the Sindar and some of the returned exiles. They are lucky her husband still stays in the Middle-Earth. Aranon, Failindië, Mírimë, you have in your guest-room Lady Celebrían, granddaughter of king Arafinwë."