Finrod and Mornel are trapped in a secret room and time is slipping away. Can Arafinwe and the others get them out in time for the wedding?

19. Waiting for Rescue

Mornel was still feeling along the outline of the panel when she heard a thud from outside and a pained gasp from her cousin.

"Finrod?" she turned to see what was wrong. His face was as grey as ash, such that she feared he was going to be sick.

"Atto!" he cried out and banged on the panel. The sudden stab of pain had been unexpected and for a moment, caused him to panic. There was a moan from outside. To the pair's immense relief they heard the Noldoran's voice, muffled as it was by the walls.

"I'm alright – just tripped over a broom some fool left lying about." It had been disconcerting when Arafinwe felt his son flinch mentally and break off the mental link with him but Finrod was now reaching out tentatively to him with his mind. Perhaps the fall had startled him too since they had been linked…

"Ingoldo!" It was Earwen's voice now. "Where are you?" Perturbed by her husband's sudden departure, she had dogged his heels closely until she reached the corridor where she found him sprawled in an ungraceful heap thanks to the broom. She could hear her son's voice but there was no sign of him anywhere.

"We are trapped in a secret room behind a tapestry!" Mornel called out. She was afraid the strain of using osanwe was getting to her cousin.

"How long have you been there?" It was Indis' alarmed voice now. She sounded agitated. Grandchildren simply did not vanish into locked rooms. It was not right!

"Since last night, grandmamma. We are shut in…" Mornel explained. There was a scrambling sound as the older elves tried to find the panel. Miriel's tapestry was taken off the wall, fastidiously rolled up, and placed on a divan in a nearby room. Miriel's beautiful tapestries were treasured by the Noldor as rare works of art since so few had survived the ravages of time since her death. Try as they might to force the door open with their bare hands, it held fast. The Noldoran ordered several palace guards to bring axes, crowbars, and other tools to force open the door. After much commotion and sweat, the door still held fast.

"Oh dear, we are late for the morning prayers…" Indis fretted. "It is not auspicious for a groom-to-be to miss the prayers. What will Findarato do without his parents' blessings?" Mornel glanced at the pool of sunlight on the floor of their prison and realized it must be time for one of the many Vanyarin rituals Finrod needed to undertake before the wedding.

"Forgive me, amme," Arafinwe pointed out. "Findarato could say his prayers inside and we are more than willing to give him our blessings, even if it is through a wall." At Mornel's suggestion, a messenger had been dispatched to the Guild of Smiths in the city where numerous blueprints of prototypes were kept in its massive, and very messy, library. Mahtan had taken her there once to show her his best student's early attempts. There had been a prototype of a lamp which burned with a cool steady light in the dark. The flaw in it was that it first had to be placed in Laurelin's glow for half a day to work. There had been a strange mechanism called an iron horse which pulled carts without rest but it belched out foul smoke and kept tripping over cobbles. Feanaro was not always successful as an inventor. Surely her atto would have left a copy of the plans for the locking mechanism or the door in the Guildhouse library.

"Findarato, please follow my instructions – you have to do the prayers to the Valar the best you can…" Indis' voice instructed. The guards had abandoned their assault on the panel. It was a bit chipped and a bit dented to show for their efforts. Finrod knelt as instructed and started singing the hymns. When Indis told her grandson to thank the Valar for their numerous blessings, Mornel could tell from the sour expression on his face that he was not exactly thankful about being stuck like a trapped rat. She had to cram her fist into her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. Indis would not appreciate such an intrusion on the solemnness of the occasion. Mornel perched on the edge of the desk. Under Finrod's scrolls, there were faint markings and grooves cut into the wood of the desk.

For a moment, Mornel wondered if they were another Avarin curse on her benighted uncles and grandmother. The symbols were strange to look at but at the same time familiar. Alchemy. Those brave elves who were a class of their own even among the skilled smiths of Aule's mansion. Such elves risked grave injury and even death by experimenting with various substances. There had been one such elf in Formenos who had created a substance which could burn, even when copiously doused with water. He had shown her his scribbles, among them the formula for the new substance as he attempted to refine it for the safer use of starting a fire using wet wood. She traced the symbols and faint Tengwar runes on the desk with her fingers. Something clicked suddenly in her mind. This was an alchemic formula for a type of alloy, which the runes suggested the secret panel was made of.

Finrod was finishing his prayers and his elders were bestowing their blessings on him by shouting through the panel to ensure he would be able to hear them. Mornel waited until the ritual was completed before she called out to her uncle.

"Uncle Ara, I have found something which might help us get out. Please fetch Grandfather Mahtan. We need him to confirm if I am right about this." Mornel hoped she was wrong about her suspicions. They could be trapped for several more hours if it was indeed a certain mithril-steel alloy her atto had made the door of. They would need a special cutting tool, or perhaps it would be easier to knock down the adjoining wall.

"Ada, could we knock down the wall instead?" Finrod suggested. The idea had occurred to him too. There was a muffled discussion in the hall before Arafinwe replied.

"We could but we have several supporting pillars in this hall – we need to proceed carefully…"

There came the sound of running footsteps as a guardsman was ordered to seek out Master Rumil and the palace blueprints. Both Finrod and Mornel groaned and glanced nervously at the roof above. The palace was old and had been rebuilt so many times that knocking down a wall must be done with great caution lest they bring down the roof or whatever had been built above it.

Across the city in her cousin's house, Amarie tied a silken bow on Snowdrop. Fearing she would be lonely, Finrod had sent the wolfhound to keep his bride company. She and her bridesmaids had just completed the morning prayers to invoke the Valar's favour. There had been the usual round of teasing banter from her girl-cousins. Elemmire had been a conscientious host, tending to their every need. It was a pity he had no inclination of settling down to start his own family yet. Snowdrop sneezed as one of the younger bridesmaids held a posy for the hound's inspection. The nis giggled and went off to make more posies for the bridal entourage.

She should be happy, yet Amarie felt strangely anxious. Her tummy felt as if she had drunk an entire flask of that fizzy concoction one of the Avari was selling outside the city. She and a cousin had tried a cupful of the brew out of curiosity. They had both come down with a fit of hiccups before the old nis peddling the drink informed them they should have sipped it very slowly - as in over the course of the seventeen-act play by the Rock Flower Clan and toss the empty bowls at the actors as a form of applause. The ways of the Avari were strange indeed. Snowdrop yawned and settled down on a rug for a nap.

Vanyar custom dictated the bride and groom not meet before the wedding yet Amarie felt the strong urge to run over to the palace to see if Finrod was alright. She picked up a brooch from her dresser and held it against her gown. Her parents were busy in the downstairs parlour receiving congratulations and the good wishes of the various Vanyar or half-Vanyar families who have made Tirion their home. Looking out of the window, she was amused to see Elemmire blushing and stuttering like a callow youth as he tried to speak with a dark-haired nis with a mischievous smile on her face.

Master Mahtan and several skilled metal-smiths answered their king's summons and came to the palace. After careful inspection and discussion, the metal-smiths declared that it was possible to cut through the mithril-alloy door using the latest metalworking tools in their workshops. It would be hot, messy work – would their majesties wish to remove the carpets and tapestries first? They needed a portable fuel source and they could only work for thirty minutes at a time before letting their overheated tools rest. It would take at least five hours to cut a hole big enough for the trapped elves to climb through.

Aunts Anaire and Findis assisted Master Rumil in combing the archives for the blueprints pertaining to this particular part of the palace if the builders had left any. The early Noldor and Vanyar kept scant records of the building of Tirion as Rumil was still trying to convince his peers of the benefits of the written word then. Perhaps knocking down a wall would be faster if they could ensure everyone's safety. Indis threw up her hands and declared she was going to seek help from one of the many Maiar who had come to Tirion as representatives of the Valar, even if it were that Aiwendil with his muddy boots and grimy clothes. Perhaps his birds could drop some food and drink down to her poor grandchildren.

The air was filled with the smell of scorched metal as the smiths got to work. The rest of the royal family retreated from the heat and smoke which soon filled the hallway despite Indis' throwing open the windows to air the place. There was nothing they and the trapped elves could do but wait. Mornel and Finrod moved away from the door as it started to glow ominously. It was not the most auspicious of starts to Finrod's wedding day.

"Do you still remember your brother Feanaro's wedding day?" Mahtan asked the Noldoran as he oversaw the distribution of skins of cool water to the workers during one of their breaks. Aiwendil had been located in the palace garden and he agreed to have some city ravens drop some water skins to Mornel and Finrod. Unfortunately, the filled water skins proved too large to fit through the window. The birds settled for dropping juicy berries and oranges down to the waiting elves so that they could quench their thirst.

"How could I forget? I fell out of the window and landed in a rose bush. Nolo was so panicked when I started howling… Amme heard me and got worried…" Arafinwe mused and shook his head at the memory.

"Today's predicament is almost familiar, isn't it?" Mahtan guffawed.

"I believe we had it easier then. Atto only needed a locksmith, not a half-dozen smiths."

As the hours passed, the metal-smiths made slow but steady progress.

Author's Notes:

Feanor probably wished his master had not retained the plans of his failed inventions and filed them in the Guildhouse.

Yes, they have welder elves in Aman. Why are the Maiar not helping? Let's see – the last time the Valar helped a royal elf in Tirion with his problems, they got a super-unhappy Feanor and the number one dysfunctional household in Aman. So they are washing their hands of the royal family a bit.