Chapter Seventeen

The citadel was grander the closer to the King she was taken, the walls were all covered in rich tapestries that seemed to run alongside her, drawing at her attention. Hiliel tugged reluctantly at her hand, herding her towards the door carved with a large helm and shield. The guard, complete with helm matching the door opened it for them, letting the buzz of the full room beyond hit them. Several dozen people talking and moving and breathing all far more loudly than even a full hall in Imladris. Each one sparked her interest, these solid figures in heavy clothes who stood like stone pillars, clumping as mountains would if they could walk. In amongst them all the white cloak of Curunír stood out, grand and shining with a light she had not noticed before, in the way her uncles were recognisable in a crowd. Beside him, perched upon a chair that was not quite a throne was the only graceful figure in the audience chamber. He was darker than Valandil, his skin like soft leather from too much sun and a faint frown formed part of his face. To her he seemed much more of an elf than his cousin, at once sad and old yet not so. She knew he was the King, for no one else in the hall could be worthy.

Curunír stepped forward, his lips moving silently, forming words she could not quite read. She bowed to the King. Gil-Galad had seemed grander but he was a distant memory covered in a haze of sea foam and light. She decided that this King was a good one for he looked the part.

"Yarna Isoweniel," Saruman told the King who said nothing for a moment then stood up, smiling thinly. It was a kind smile, the same one Elrond wore and Valandil at times could summon.

"Suilaid, tithen pen," he murmured in perfect Sindarin. "Welcome to Minas Tirith. The city is made more radiant by your presence." She gave him a nervous smile, unsure of what to say. She had never spoken to a King, only lords when it meant nothing for they were her uncles. Her silence made the King smile again and he bent down to her height.

"From whence do you come?" the King asked her.

"Mithlond-" she answered only she was not sure anymore, perhaps Imladris was meant to be her home if her Adar did not want her. "Imladris, Lord King."

"Mithlond is beautiful, is it not? I have been, long ago. Arnor must be much changed." Curunír had looked away for a moment, his attention caught by another Man and she summoned her courage.

"Please, my Lord King? Will you take Arnor? Valandil says he wants it not and he wants to stay with Elrond." The King looked surprised and she was afraid she had spoken out of turn.

"You know my cousin? Valandil- These are his words or his mother's?" Suddenly the King's voice had sharpened, making Curunír turn back to them.

"Valandil does not want to leave. Rinbereth would never speak to us. Please, could you make it so that he does not have to leave?"

"The boy will not be coming here," said the King. Unsure of his tone she smiled shyly, mostly certain that Valandil could stay.

"Yarna," Curunír ordered her away coldly.

"No, let her stay. I wish to know about this boy and his mother. Come, little Lady. Bring her a seat." A Man in burgundy uniform stomped forward, placing a carved stool by the King's chair. Yarna perched on it, pulling her legs up under her.

"Tell me, what sort of boy is my cousin?" She opened her mouth to answer then stopped, thinking. Her first answer would be that Valandil was nice enough, if a nuisance and a silly boy who could not do things half as well as a baby elfling. Then she thought perhaps the King would be upset that Valandil was not as good as he ought to be and take him away from Erestor and Nairn to be taught elsewhere.

"He is a friend," she answered slowly. "One day he will be wiser. He is better now than he was once." She was suddenly aware that most of the Men in the hall were staring at her and their conversations, to which she had paid no heed began to jump out at her. Vaguely she understood the odd word and turned at the loudest mention of elves.

"Ignore them," the King ordered them softened his stern face. "Why did your father send you here?" She bit her lip and looked to Curunír for assistance only to find him engaged with a Man, both one step away from stroking their beards in thought.

"He did not want me," she murmured. "My uncles sent me here." She was not altogether sure why. The King paused for a while, looking at her with a pity that made her uncomfortable.

"Who is your uncle?" he asked.

"Glorfindel and Erestor. Of Gondolin," she added to make them sound as grand as she thought they ought to be. The King inclined his head graciously towards her.

"I am honoured to have fought alongside them in the war. They are great warriors and noble kin. We are pleased to have one of their House here." The King sighed, making her wonder what he was going to ask next.

"My uncle left with Queen Rinbereth, to visit Arnor. He keeps leaving." The King frowned and she worried she had displeased him. She had never wanted to make sure someone heard what they wished to hear before, it was new this urge to say something pleasing to the King.

"Curunír." The wizard turned, his companion swatted away in favour of the King. "You tell me the elves have no intention of crowning a new King in Lindon. Do they intend to rule through Arnor instead?" The King's tone had turned cold.

"They have an interest in stabilising the kingdom and Elrond has custody of Valandil. It is a matter of preserving their interests, nothing more. As soon as Rinbereth's regency is secure I have no doubt Glorfindel and Elrond will withdraw."

"They had better. Hiliel will take care for her." For a brief moment the King almost smiled. "We shall teach you Westron." She had the sense that she was dismissed yet the King did not say so. Curunír flicked his finger at her and she bowed again before retreating to Hiliel.

"King like you," the girl said.

"The King likes you as well," answered Yarna. "Why do they stare?"

"Never see little elf. Just warriors." That made her sad, that these people had seen her Naneth long after she had, some had even been there at the battle. She envied them for seven years was ample time to see someone and she had missed that.

"Make them stop staring," she murmured. Hiliel made an uncomfortable noise as she looked around. With one last glance at the King, Yarna turned and marched as proudly as she could towards the doors. She could feel the eyes on her and hear Hiliel scurrying behind her. The guard at the door opened it for her without a word. She did not look behind her for what she guessed would be Curunír's disapproving stare. She wanted to leave and there was no one telling her to stay.

"Come, let us explore!" Hiliel called out after her as she ran off, looking for something less intimidating.